Caesar sent scouts to round up a few prisoners, and from them he learned that the Britons were about ten miles away. It was nearly midnight, but Caesar set off immediately and marched through the moonlit forests and marshes of Kent towards Canterbury. There was a brief skirmish near the banks of the river Stour, but as soon as the Romans began to attack in earnest, the Britons disappeared into the trees. The further the Romans advanced, the further the Britons retreated, drawing the invaders deeper and deeper into the forest.

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Once again, the weather came to the Britons’ aid No sooner had the Romans sighted the British rearguard, than a messenger came running up to Caesar with the news that a gale in the Channel had wrecked his ships, plucking them from their moorings and smashing them down upon the shore. A disappointed and angry Caesar was obliged to abandon the pursuit of his elusive enemy and return to the beach to survey the damage. Forty ships had been completely destroyed. Those less badly damaged were dragged up on the beach and for ten days the Romans worked around the clock to repair them. That done, Caesar ordered his men to dig themselves in behind earthen ramparts and wait for the Britons to attack in force.

The Britons let them wait. They had now overcome petty rivalries in their own camp and had united under one leader, Cassivellaunus, King of the Catuvellauni tribe. He was content now to nibble at the Romans, by sending out raiding parties and staging a few ambushes, knowing that sooner or later, Caesar would have to take the initiative.

Summer was fast fading into autumn when Caesar at last lost patience and marched from his fortified camp towards the Thames. The Romans arrived at the only crossing place to find that the Britons had barricaded it by driving stakes into the riverbed. The obstacle was overcome when the Romans clothed their elephant in an armor of iron scales and placed on its back a tower full of archers and slingers. The great beast lumbered into the Thames, with a shower of arrows and stones pouring down from the tower. The terrified Britons bolted for the protection of the trees and refused to come out, except to make a few hit-and-run forays, which did them little good.

Now the unmistakable smell of autumn was in the air and Caesar, aware that time was running out, resorted to subversive tactics. He had in his camp the son of a British chieftain recently defeated by Cassivellaunus. When Caesar promised to restore this young man to his stolen kingdom, some of the smaller tribes deserted their leader. Cassivellaunus, in his growing isolation, persuaded the four kings of Kent to attack Caesar’s base camp and so draw the Romans away to defend it. The plan failed, but Caesar eagerly seized his chance when Cassivellaunus asked for a truce.

Caesar negotiated a treaty imperiously, almost as if he had won a great victory. Cassivelaunus promised to abide by it, but Caesar, impatient now to be gone, took no precautions to ensure that he did so. All Caesar wanted was to get away from this inhospitable island, from its abominable weather, and its cunning inhabitants. Autumn gales were already blowing round the coast and the winds were frothing up dangerously choppy seas when the Roman ships weighed anchor and sailed for France.

Julius Caesar never returned to Britain. The island was left undisturbed for nearly a century, until AD 43 when the Emperor Claudius ordered the invasion that succeeded where that of Rome’s greatest general had so conspicuously failed.

This article was written by Brenda Ralph Lewis for British Heritage magazine.

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