idence of the merchants and the centre of trade and commerce of the
island.

His army was small, not more than ten thousand men in all. That of the
Britons was large. The interests of the empire were greater than those
of any city, and Suetonius found himself obliged to abandon London to
the barbarians, despite the supplications of its imperilled citizens.
All he would agree to was to take under his protection those who chose
to follow his banner. Many followed him, but many remained, and no
sooner had he marched out than the Britons fell in rage on the
settlement, and killed all they found. In like manner they ravaged
Verulamium (St. Albans). Seventy thousand Romans are said to have been
put to the sword.

Meanwhile Suetonius marched through the land, and at length the two
armies met. The skilled Roman general drew up his force in a place where
a thick forest sheltered the rear and flanks, leaving only a narrow
front open to attack. Here the Britons, twenty times his number, and
confident of victory, approached. The warlike Boadicea, tall, stern of
countenance, her hair hanging to her waist, a spear in her hand, drove
along their front in a warlike car, with her two daughters by her side,
and eloquently sought to rouse her countrymen to thirst for revenge.

Telling them of the base cruelty with which she and her daughters had
been treated, and painting in vivid words the arrogance and insults of
the Romans, she besought them to fight for their country and their
homes. "On this spot we must either conquer or die with glory," she
said. "There is no alternative. Though I am a woman, my resolution is
fixed. The men, if they prefer, may survive with infamy and live in
bondage. For me there is only victory or death."

Stirred to fury by her words, the British host poured like a deluge on
their foes. But the Roman arms and discipline proved far too much for
barbarian courage and ferocity. The British were repulsed, and, rushing
forward in a wedge shape, the legions cut their way with frightful
carnage through the disordered ranks. The cavalry seconded their
efforts. Thousands fell. The rest took to flight. But the wagons of the
British, which had been massed in the rear, impeded their flight, and a
dreadful slaughter, in which neither sex nor age was spared, ensued.
Tacitus tells us that eighty thousand Britons fell, while the Roman
slain numbered no more than four hundred men.

Boadicea, who had done her utmost to rally