Rome in Flames Read Free Page A

as our warriors had burned Londinium.
    A bright flame flickered in the darkness above us. Sparks dropped onto the straw, setting it alight. If we didn’t get out, we would burn to death! We ran towards the door.
    â€˜Stay in the shadows,’ Conan told me. ‘Head towards the trees.’
    But there were no shadows. All around us, the huts were ablaze like a ring of bonfires. As we ran out, a shout went up. Conan tried to pull Father’s sword from its sheath. Too late – we were surrounded by soldiers. Although we both struggled fiercely, they quickly overpowered us. I was sure we were about to die.
    Then the leader gave an order. Instead of killing us, they took our weapons away and tied our hands. I felt my face burn with shame and fury.
    It would be better to be killed than taken prisoner. That’s what Father always said. Choose a warrior’s death, not a lifetime of slavery!
    But we had no choice. They led us away into the darkness.
    * * *
    â€˜Where are they taking us?’
    For three days, we had been marching southwards. We were part of a long, straggling line of prisoners, chained together in groups of five, with iron collars locked around our necks.
    On the first day, one group of men had made a run for it, trying to reach the forest, which was a bowshot from the road. But, chained together, they couldn’t run fast enough. A soldier’s javelin had brought down their leader. They had fallen in a heap, and the soldiers had finished them off.
    After that, no one tried to escape. We trudged on, mile after mile, along that road which ran straight as a spear over hills and valleys. Soon, our feet were blistered. The iron collars rubbed and chafed our necks.
    Along the way, we saw villages being burned, their crops destroyed, their cattle stolen. The Romans were taking full revenge on the people who had rebelled against them.
    â€˜Where are they taking us?’ That was what everyone wanted to know. Rumours spread up and down the line of prisoners. We were going to Londinium or across the sea to Gaul. We would rot in the salt mines, or break our backs in the galley-ships. No one knew what lay ahead, and even the strongest warriors were afraid.
    On the fourth day, the road led us through a broken gateway into a city of smoke-blackened ruins. ‘Londinium,’ Conan whispered to me.
    Although it was ruined, anyone could see that this had been a great city. It was fifty times bigger than our village. And our army had destroyed it! No wonder the Romans were angry.
    â€˜They will never rebuild this place,’ said Conan. ‘It’s totally dead.’
    â€˜Don’t be too sure,’ said Andreas, another prisoner. ‘The Romans are like mushrooms. If you pick one, three more grow up in the same place.’
    Beyond Londinium, we were in the land of the Cantii tribe. They had not taken part in the rebellion. There were no burned villages here, no signs of war. But the towns looked more Roman than Celtic. Square stone buildings were replacing thatched huts. Many of the people wore Roman-style tunics, although they were too tall and fair to look like true Romans.
    â€˜Traitors,’ Andreas muttered, spitting on the ground.
    As we went through a town, people looked at us with embarrassment. I heard the word ‘slaves’ being mentioned.
    Conan straightened his back. ‘You are all slaves too!’ he shouted. ‘Slaves of the Romans! You should have fought alongside us when you had the chance!’ Then a soldier threatened him with the whip, and he was silent again.
    At last we came to a town by the sea. I had never seen the sea, although of course I’d heard of it. Travellers who passed through our village sometimes talked about it – how stormy and dangerous it was, how it could swallow ships and men. But it didn’t look dangerous. It was flat and grey, and the sky came down to meet it in a long, straight line.
    There was a harbour where