“A fresh misfortune has occurred,” was
the greeting with which Beric’s mother met him
on his return home. “Prasutagus is dead;
and this is not the worst, he has left half his estates
to the Roman Emperor.”
“To the Roman Emperor!” Beric repeated;
“is it possible, mother?”
“It is true, Beric. You know he has always
tried to curry favour with the Romans, and has kept
the Iceni from joining when other tribes rose against
Rome. He has thought of nothing but amassing
wealth, and in all Britain there is no man who could
compare with him in riches. Doubtless he felt
that the Romans only bided their time to seize what
he had gathered, and so, in order that Boadicea and
his daughters should enjoy in peace a portion of his
stores, he has left half to Nero. The man was
a fool as well as a traitor. The peasant who
throws a child out of the door to the wolves knows
that it does but whet their appetite for blood, and
so it will be in this case. I hear Prasutagus
died a week since, though the news has come but slowly,
and already a horde of Roman officials have arrived
in Norfolk, and are proceeding to make inventories
of the king’s possessions, and to bear themselves
as insolently as if they were masters of all.
Trouble must come, and that soon. Boadicea is
of different stuff to her husband; she will not bear
the insolence of the Romans. It would have been
well for the Iceni had Prasutagus died twenty years
ago and she had ruled our country.”
“The gods have clearly willed, mother, that
we should rise as one people against the Romans.
It may be that it was for this that they did not defend
their shrines from the impious hands of the invaders.
Nought else stirred the Britons to lay aside their
jealousies and act as one people. Now from end
to end of the island all are burning for vengeance.
Just at this moment, comes the death of the Romans’
friend Prasutagus, and the passing of the rule of the
Iceni into the hands of Boadicea. With the Romans
in her capital the occasion will assuredly not long
be wanting, and then there will be such a rising as
the Romans have never yet seen; and then, their purpose
effected, the gods may well fight on our side.
I would that there had been five more years in which
to prepare for the struggle, but if it must come it
must. This Catus Decianus is just the man to
bring it on. Haughty, arrogant, and greedy, he
knows nothing of us, and has never faced the Britons
in arms. Had Suetonius been here he would not
have acted thus with regard to the affairs of Prasutagus.
Had Caius Muro not been absent his voice might have
been raised in warning to the tyrant; but everything
seems to conspire together, mother, to bring on the
crisis.”
“The sooner the better,” Parta exclaimed
vehemently. “It is true that in time you
might teach the whole Iceni to fight in Roman methods,
but what is good for the Romans may not be good for
us. Moreover, every year that passes strengthens
their hold on the land. Their forts spring up
everywhere, their cities grow apace; every month numbers
flock over here. Another five years, my son,
and their hold might be too strong to shake off.”
