Britain triumphed. Her hardy sons had repulsed the invading Roman, and forced mightiest Cæsar himself to give back. But victory,—as ever with such victories,—came hand-in-hand with mourning. The royal Cassibelan, while rejoicing at his people's brave achievement, had to deplore the loss of him who had mainly aided its success. His brother Nennius lay at point of death. Fifteen days he languished beneath his mortal wounds; and before the day fixed for the celebration of the victory, arrived, he had ceased to breathe.

The king had published a decree, summoning all the nobility of Britain, with their wives, to his capital of Trinovantum, in order to render, with sacrificial rites and offerings, solemn thanks to their tutelary gods; who had granted them conquest over so great a commander as renowned Julius. He had also called the companions of his victory together, that he might amply reward them, every one, accordingly as they had severally distinguished themselves; and now, this appointed solemn rejoicing, for which the chief of his realm were convened together, he resolved should be mingled with the sad but honoring tribute of a national celebration, in his brother's funeral exequies.