Caesar’s landing was unopposed for some very good reasons, as
Caswallawn had seen the vast size of this fleet and realised quickly that any
defensive force he sent to the beach to oppose the landing, could be swiftly
flanked by other ships landing subsequently either side of this bay, and his
men easily destroyed. As he watched the Romans consolidate their beach landing,
Caswallawn was content to assemble his army further north for the planned
mass-attack the following day and so he and his Brythons melted away into the trees.
The main body of Caswallawn’s spearmen were still assembling
in the broad maes which made-up last year’s allied war-camp and those still coming
east from the cliffs, were yet to arrive. News had reached the camp before them
however angering Caswallawn beyond measure, as it transpired the Belgic tribes
which had already shown so much dissent had headed west, taking themselves home and would not be taking part. This
didn’t do a great deal for the tenuous unity of Caswallawn’s disparate troops,
widening the gulf between the allies and the rebels once more and many
arguments and brawls had broken out in all the southern war camps. Caswallawn
had worn himself out touring these fractious campsites and reassuring his men,
doing his utmost to keep the alliance of tribes together long-enough for him to
achieve his goals. Taking Caswallawn and all the Brythons by complete surprise
however, Caesar struck out that very night and headed up Cwm Gryffdŵr, heading for CaerCelgwern or CaerCant no-doubt, and
leaving the Brythons to hurriedly break camp and pursue him in the dark.
At dawn the following
morning, Caswallawn and his men had used more direct routes and had overtaken
the Romans this last hour. Hundreds of chariots loaded down with troops had
been ferried west through winding forest lanes and Caswallawn’s army had reached
CaerCelgwern just in time. He had his breathless men arrayed themselves all
along the western bank of the Gryffdŵr to slow the Roman’s progress into western
Caint, just as the harsh roman horns announced the General’s arrival.
Forcing Caesar to fight all along the banks of this river, Caswallawn
was hoping to allow the soldiers of CaerCelgwern the time to reinforce the
entrance to the fortress behind them and block the routes through the ditches
with felled trees, whose branches had all been sharpened. As the morning
sweated painfully past midday, Caswallawn’s Brythons had put up a tremendous
fight but this was never planned as a decisive battle in any way, just another
time-consuming hurdle for Caesar to cross, losing men continually. Caswallawn and
his ferocious men made crossing so difficult and dangerous, the Romans
struggled for over two hours to gain the furthest bank in numbers which could
hold and be consolidated, before another mad group of defending warriors
cleared them from the bank in a screaming, manic onrush of sharp spears and
leather shields.
Caesar had exercised great foresight, as when his Gallic
cavalry eventually reappeared they were the other side of the river. He had
sent them looping inland in search of a ford upriver and they had clearly been
successful, as they hugged the trees along the far bank now in their return, attempting
to negate the attention of Caswallawn’s chariots. At the right moment, a Roman
horn blared out and this suddenly arrived cavalry tore into the Brythonic
flanks with an indefensible attack. The Brythons suffered horribly from
Caesar’s foreign horsemen and were completely routed from the western
approaches of the river. They all withdrew to a distant call from a horn, the survivors
melting away into the nearby trees from where they had emerged, just as the wet
legionaries clambered up from the river.
This torn riverbank was littered with Brythonic dead and the
river below it was filled with the slowly moving bodies of both nations, all
heading inexorably for the ocean. Far fewer were clothed in the maroon wool and
polished armour of Rome, so the invaders crossed into western Caint and were
boisterous in their victory. The Gallic Auxiliaries, who had caused such deadly
mayhem among the ranks of the Brythons and who had claimed so many lives along
the banks of the Gryffdŵr, were hated by the Brythons for being treacherous combrogi and the archers sought them out
eagerly as their comrades vanished into the woods behind them.
The hillsides of CaerCelgwern were festooned with trees
unusually, as most boundary or watch
hillforts are cleared, so that the military might of the fortress can be seen
for miles. Even the walls were often whitewashed for enemy-facing boundary strongholds especially the Capitals of each
tribe, which would gleam proud atop a denuded hill for all to see and fear. The
trees at this fighting fortress were
left to grow deliberately, as they were added protection against mounted
warriors and made a confusing viewpoint for an approaching enemy, giving no
appreciation of the fortress hidden among them on the crown. The locals knew
every track and lane in this conical forest, having hunted it and the
surrounding forests all their lives. In a hunter,
hit-and-run style defence of this fort the trees would prove invaluable as the
paths and trackways through them were everywhere and utterly unfamiliar to the
Romans.
Once the way was clear, all the Romans forded the Gryffdŵr
and crossed the boundary into western
Caint and the Brythons watched them advance using the cover of the trees. The
allied southern archers assembled at the fringes, as their comrades used pairs
of horses to drag great trees across the entrances to the Caer above. These
archers at the periphery, bolstered by many of the finest archers from Cymbri held
back the approaching Romans, as Caswallawn reassembled his army to the north of
the fort. A long line of nobles and aristocrats were winding their way down the
rear northern lane unseen, leading their children, three laden ox-carts with
their chattels and a small herd of cattle. Apart from a token line of warriors
on the south-eastern battlements, CaerCelgwern was all but abandoned. Despite
Caesar’s bold and surprising first night manoeuvres, King Cyngetoric’s nephew;
Gŵyr Elwyn ap Uned and his family had managed to escape with
all they held dear.
The Romans surged from the river toward Bryn Celgwern but had
to shelter under their turtle-shell formation twice from the withering
onslaught from the trees. Even as they drew near to the fringes and tried to
bring the Brythons to battle, they withdrew and flitted away through the myriad
trunks of these firs and the dense bushes between them. A second line of
archers drawn higher up the hill covered their comrades on their uphill
retreat, keeping up the barrage of arrows and sling stones on the invaders below.
The Romans however do not know how to quit, and so in the face of this
onslaught of shot they poured uphill into the woods. At the harsh sound of an
unfamiliar horn, the Romans broke their rigid formations and charged up the
hill as a roaring mass of flashing steel and red wool, rushing upwards between
the trees slaughtering any Brython they caught. With the most determined effort
and showing inspirational courage, they pushed ever upwards but losing men to
arrows and stones continually. Showing their superb training, the Roman
legionaries used their scutum and their long-honed battle tactics to cover each
other, using the trees themselves and forging ever onwards without check, as
they had done across Gallia with unerring success.
With glimmering Centurions and furious Optios screaming at
their men, they fought in skilled groups and overwhelmed the groups of archers
and their protective spearmen, eventually scattering the opposition and enveloping the fortress at the top of this hill. The Romans roared their victory and began
to spread out, laying siege to this fortress as more and more of their comrades
charged up the hill to join them. As the more heavily armoured soldiers melted
away from the battlements and left the Caer by the servant’s gate at the north-eastern
wall, the lightly armoured spearmen, archers and slingers remained at the
palisades to continue the bombardment of Caesar’s garrulous soldiers, as they prepared
to storm the front entrance of CaerCelgwern.
The Roman’s auxiliaries were ordered to cut branches down and
fill the outer ditches with these and dozens of large shrubs, so they could
pass over them and the hill was furious with this activity and the sound of
knocking axes. The heavily armoured Romans in the vanguard with their comrade’s
scutum held over their heads, began to draw down the great pile of logs to gain
access to the fortress itself but under a constant barrage from above. As the
big men up-front pulled the logs down with iron hooks and chains, their
comrades had to form their testudo
over the heads of these powerful men as they furiously tried to clear the way
ahead. As the blistering shot began to peter out from the battlements smoke was
seen rising from inside, so these big men and their big axes brought down the
front gates and as the afternoon clouded over, the fortress fell.
As the huge, axe-wielding vanguard crashed through the
sundered gates and into the bare, littered interior they found it almost
abandoned, as the Brythons were long-gone and the archers and slingers had swiftly
followed before they were surrounded, firing the fortress behind them. The only
living thing remaining was a scrawny mongrel, who paused from his scratching on
the dust of the deserted parade ground at their rude entry. He gave the Romans
a disdainful look before jogging off and vanishing around the back of the
thatched and empty forge, which had just burst into flames.
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