Page 59 - SYTYGIB Prehistoric Times
P. 59

It certainly wasn’t a game for kids back in those days, though. In AD 43, a huge Roman army arrived in Kent and battled their way inland from the beach. Anyone who stood in its way as they smashed through hillforts and villages was for the cHoP. For children, it must have been terrifying.
 Did anyone remember to bring the marshmallows for us to toast?
While some tribes fought back, others decided it would be better (and less choppy) to make peace with the Romans. If they did so, they had to obey Roman laws and pay taxes.
One Celtic queen called Boudica got fed up with having
to give up land and pay the Romans, so she got a big army together and went off to do some very naughty things
to Roman towns, such as burning them to the ground.
I want to make s´mores!
   Do you ever wish . . . your mum was a bit fiercer?
Sure, she’s really lovely and she smells of custard creams – but wouldn’t it be cool if she occasionally surprised everyone with something wild and unpredictable? Well, if Boudica was your mum, you wouldn’t be complaining about her being boring.
In the late Iron Age, Boudica was queen of the Iceni people of Eastern England. Her husband, Prasutagus, was the top guy when the Romans invaded in AD 43, and they allowed him to continue to rule. But when he died, those naughty Romans took the property of the Iceni and are also said to have flogged Boudica and treated her daughters terribly.
Boudica was FuRiOuS and rose up in rebellion against the Romans in AD 60–61. She united many Celtic tribes and, with her army of tens of thousands of warriors, inflicted a surprise defeat on the Roman Ninth Legion. She then went on to destroy Colchester (the capital of Roman Britain) as well
as London and Verulamium (St Albans), killing thousands in the process.
Finally, Boudica was defeated by the Romans at the Battle of Watling Street and it is believed that, to avoid being captured, Boudica poisoned herself. On second thoughts, perhaps it’s best if your mum sticks to being lovely . . .
57
 The beginning of written history
 



















































































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