The Fall of Veii- Part 2 Page 8

  “Here” called Narcius, his men lining up a wall of shields with their backs to the walls. Marcus peered over his shield to get his bearings as more soldiers rushed over the wall. It had only been a matter of ten minutes at the most and the Romans had already gained the wall, the people inside the city were screaming and running manically, soldiers battering women who were gripping them and calling for them to save their lives as Roman archers now appeared on the walls and started to rain arrows into the city.

  “Now” cried Marcus as he sensed the opportunity to strike had come. Narcius led the charge as the floorboards creaked and groaned under their feet, the men at the front tripping and being dragged to their feet by the men behind.

  “Steady” called Narcius as he butted a defender with his shield boss, the man falling back into the stairway below him before landing on the thick grass bank inside the city. Some of the Romans had leapt from the parapet in their urgency to get into the city, one or two falling immediately to the quick thinking defenders, others landing heavily and screaming as their legs bent or buckled under them. One or two lucky ones jumped to their feet and ran at the defenders holding the base of the stairs.

  A trumpet called Marcus’ attention to the road which led to the town square, immediately in front of the gates, and the noise of hundreds of feet came clattering along the wide roadway towards the Roman attack. Jumping the last few steps Marcus realised that Narcius and his hundred or so Eagles would soon be overwhelmed by the defenders unless they got to the gate first and opened it.

  “Narcius, the gate” he called urgently as his officer snapped his head around and searched out the location.

  “I will take the roadway, we can hold it for a few minutes but you must get the gates open” screamed Marcus above the noise of fighting.

  “First cohort, with me” called Narcius as he screamed at three approaching Capenates and launched himself into a run, followed by a blur of blue clad soldiers.

  “On me” called Marcus as he stepped forwards and launched himself into the remaining defenders who were backing away from the walls. “We must hold that road” he called to the men around him as he slashed at a spear that was thrust into his face by a dark skinned defender, his eyes blazing with hatred and his muscled arms bulging from years of working the soil. The spear slipped past his head as Marcus ducked and rammed his sword up into the man’s ribs with a crunch, pushing his shoulder into his face as the man screamed and fell as Marcus rushed past him towards the roadway.

  The defenders were running, their leaders calling them into defensive positions as the noise of the main army came from the road ahead of Marcus and his rushing men. A young defender, his face not yet shaving, ran at the Romans and launched an overhead slice with a long iron sword, his scream high-pitched yet strong. Marcus didn’t change his stride as he moved his body to the right and smashed his shield edge into the boy’s thigh before the sword edge had even begun its downward swing. The bone snapped with a thick crack as the youth crashed forwards under the weight of his body movement. Marcus didn’t have time to consider the age of the youth as he snapped his sword into the throat of the boy, his scream dying as his eyes suddenly filled with tears and he collapsed into the dust as Marcus ran on.

  The road was eight or nine men wide and already several defenders were lined up, their nervous faces glancing to each other and then behind at the approaching mass of spears from the town square. “Kill them” Marcus called as he slashed into the shield of the closest man, his back pushed against the wall of a house as he stepped backwards to avoid the attack. The thump of an arrow caught Marcus unaware as he felt the man next to him twist and fall. Glancing upwards he saw three men knocking arrows from the roof of one of the buildings. “Bastards” he spat as he flung his sword up to counter the attack of the grinning Capenate who used the wall as a lever and threw his whole body behind the heavy sword he carried. The sword smashed into the metal boss of Marcus’ shield as a quick thinking legionary to his right stepped inside the attack and punched his sword with lightning speed into the chest of the olive skinned defender, the metal heartsaver buckling under the ferocity of the strike. The man fell to his knees as the Roman pulled at his sword as it grated on the heartsaver and stuck as his body buckled forwards. Marcus skipped sideways to push the legionary under his shield as a defender struck with his spear, the length of the shaft being the only thing that saved the legionary as it was slow to move in the cramped space. Kneeling the legionary retrieved his sword and stood to nod thanks to his Tribune as he slid back into the line.

  A flash by his side made Marcus twitch involuntarily as an arrow sliced past his ear embedding itself in the shield behind him. A quick look showed that one of the men on the roof had been taken by Roman arrows and the others were firing indiscriminately into the Roman soldiers. Knowing that there was nothing he could do Marcus turned his attention to the mass of spear men coming towards him.

  “Is the gate open” he called behind him.

  A few seconds later the reply came. “Nearly.”

  “Then we have no time to lose men, get this road set for defence” he called, stepping into a lunge as a tall defender, his eyes wide with fear jumped back from his attack and knocked into the two men beside him. At the sudden movement all three men momentarily turned to look at each other before they threw their spears and shields at the Romans and turned to flee back down the road.

  Ignoring the cheering of the Romans Marcus looked left and right. The road was wide enough to defend with no obvious weakness or steps which could give the Capenates an advantage. “Felix” he said to the man away to the right, the soldier nodding at his name. “That house” Marcus pointed “check the doors, I don’t want a way through to our rear” he called as the soldier tapped two men and raced forwards to bash into the door ahead of them. The trumpet call came again as Marcus heard the first of the Capenate spearmen start to yell from thirty yards ahead of him. A sudden blur crossed his vision as a man fell from the roof, an arrow through his throat as he clutched at it as he wriggled in the air before crashing into the stone. Good thought Marcus, glancing up at the roof and smiling.

  Felix came thundering out of the house, his sword slick with blood and a handful of jewellery being stuffed into his tunic as he grinned at his men as they came rushing out behind him, one chewing a thick leg of pork as the other simply shook his head and laughed before they returned to the line.

  “No other way out, Camillus, sir” Felix grinned.

  “Good. Take the right edge Felix and hold that line.” Marcus looked back over his shoulder. He had no more than thirty five maybe forty men to hold this road. “Four lines” he called, the men instantly moving into order as a crash and some swearing came from behind them. “What the...” Marcus said as he turned to see the short, stocky, form of Quintus Fabius grinning at him as he shoved his way through the line.

  “Reporting for duty” smiled the manic eyes of the officer, the men around him grinning as the blood covered man stepped to the front line.

  Marcus shook his head. “Second line Fabius. That’s an order” he said as Fabius glowered at him. “There’s no place for that long sword here” he said as a way of explanation as a soldier with an Eagle burnt into the leather of his chest guard smiled but roughly pushed the patrician back into the second line, the soldiers there welcoming him with words of encouragement which took away any anger he may have been feeling.

  “We hold this line” Marcus called “until the rest of the men arrive” he added as the throaty screams from the defenders came from the spear wall ahead of them.

  The spears clattered into the Roman shields, the jabbing and thrusting incessant as the Romans struggled to deal with the weight of the pushing Capenates. Marcus was sure that the weight of the lines of soldiers would be a disadvantage in the narrow roads of the city, but the Capenate leader was clearly an able soldier as he held the lines back and reset the attacks in short waves, allowing room for the soldiers at the front t
o do their work effectively. The grunting of men became louder as the razor sharp spear tips slashed through the air, catching arms, thighs and shoulders as they came in pairs or threes, the men drilled well in their attacks.

  Marcus ducked an attack, blocking with his shield and thrusting the short sword into the underarm of the attacker, the tip of his sword slicing into the soft flesh before the man jumped back, wounded but not killed. Another spear slashed across his vision, the tip screeching as it scraped along his helmet as he twisted his head. He stepped back and took a deep breath, not daring to glance over his shoulder. His arm was tiring from the constant dodging and thrusting at the attacks of the Capenates. To his right two men had fallen, one dragged back by his comrades as he screamed in agony, the other simply trampled by the men as they closed the gap over his dead body, a frantic pulling and kicking removing the obstacle before it became too hazardous.

  Darting forwards again as an opportunity presented itself Marcus felt the warm gush of blood cover his hand as he thrust the sword deep into the belly of the attacker and twisted it before returning it to his side with a sucking noise as it left the belly of the man. Gasping for breath he saw that the other men were also struggling to hold the line, the men behind stepping forwards and slashing into the gaps as the Romans became ragged in the front line. Thinking quickly Marcus realised the line must change, he needed fresh hands to face the Capenates. A scream to his right made his mind up as Felix fell to a spear in his shoulder, his cursing disappearing as he was dragged backwards and the Capenates pushed forwards again.

  “Second row” called Marcus, taking another deep mouthful of air “On my mark take the front line” he screamed. “Front row” he yelled “move back.”

  A sudden movement confused the Capenates as the front rank momentarily pulled their spears back expecting an attack. This gave the Romans the vital seconds to switch places, only one man getting a spear to the forearm during the movement. Gasping, Marcus stepped back, stretching his back as he moved into the rear line, several happy blood-spattered faces staring breathlessly at him as he did so.

  “What’s happening at the main gate?” he called as he turned to see a line of soldiers still holding the narrow archway to the small gate behind him despite the press of Romans against them. It was almost the opposite of the scene in which Marcus had been fighting, a smaller number of men holding out against a larger number. More Romans were coming over the wall, but not yet enough to make an immediate difference. Archers stood idly on the wall, their arrows knocked but no targets easily available. Striding backwards Marcus glanced up to the roof, and saw that no defenders remained above him. Relieved he stretched his back again and marched to within earshot of the walls.

  “You” he called to a group of archers who were studying the city from the walls and sending the occasional arrow into the city. “What is happening at the main gate?” he called.

  “Still fighting at the walls. Same here” he added as he pointed along the walkway where a knot of soldiers was busy hacking at defenders.

  “Right, then fetch a ladder and as many archers as you can” he shouted. “Now” he yelled as the man looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language before suddenly moving into action. A sudden cheer came from the gate as the Romans stepped forwards as a deep groan came just as quickly from the defenders as they fell to the Roman onslaught.

  Searching the roads Marcus noted that only one other narrow alleyway led from the gate to the centre of the city, as he had remembered, but this had been blocked by a mound of stone and rubble by the defenders. As it turned out this was now hampering their own defence and Marcus noted spear tips appearing behind the stones as he watched. The main road was holding well considering the overwhelming numbers, but the gate needed to be cleared. As he was thinking this he heard a crash to his right and saw several ladders being flung down from the ramparts, their thick wood clattering onto the stones. A flurry of men appeared before him all dressed in the uniform of archers and all eager for instructions.

  “Which of you is in charge?” he asked, as the men looked to each other momentarily and no-one spoke.

  “Me sir” chanced a youth, tall but clearly no older than his eighteenth birthday. Marcus smiled as two indignant veterans cuffed his ear and he ducked as one of them stepped forwards with a salute.

  “Officer was killed, sir” he said “and we are from three different clans” he said with a shrug.

  “Name soldier” he said as the bearded man looked at him with a measure of interest but clearly unsure who this blood covered officer was.

  “Amaelius, sir” he saluted.

  “Right Amaelius, as Tribune of Rome I make you a Centurion and you are in charge and he” he pointed to the tall youth who was staring angrily at the veteran “is your second. I want that roof swarming with men and I want every Capenate in that alleyway” he turned and pointed “and that one, dead. Understand?” The man saluted, his words stumbling as he tried to reply. Before the man could mumble his words Marcus had turned and pointed to the roof. “Get those ladders and get up there. Now” he called before marching back towards the gates. Turning he saw the youth, his face now flushed with pride, grip a ladder and call to several men to help him get it to the wall. With a smile Marcus watched as they did as they were told, their training taking over their pride at this strange turn of events.

  As he stepped into the back of the line of men at the gate a sudden surge at the front finished with a cheer, the men beside him seeming to relax at the sudden cacophony of cheering from their colleagues. Seeing their commander, several muttered his name and moved aside, Marcus was happy to step into the gap. At the front Narcius was calling for the heavy wooden blocks from the gate to be removed, his left arm hanging uselessly by his side as he winced and gritted his teeth.

  “Narcius?” Marcus asked as he looked at his First Spear.

  “Bastard got me with a cut” he said, trying to hold his arm up but gripping it quickly as blood ran down his arm.

  “Come on, sir” said a soldier, wrapping a thick red bandage across the arm and tying a quick knot before shaking his head to Marcus to indicate that Narcius would be out of any more action that day.

  “Well done men, especially you Narcius” Marcus called as the men grinned and cheered. The gate swung open with a loud squeal, as if in protest at the Romans taking the city. The iron hinges moaned at the weight of the small, but sturdy, gate and Marcus smiled at the scene outside.

  A great cheer came from outside the city as the Roman legion started to march forwards, the officers trotting ahead to see what was required before the men arrived. Marcus gripped a soldier who was cheering loudly, his face a sudden mask of fear as his commanding officer turned to address him directly.

  “Run to the Centurion there” he pointed “and tell him that they should hold the line at the front gate, send no more than three hundred men in this gate. Run” he called as the man threw his weapons to the floor and dashed out towards the trotting officers, their faces now visible as Marcus waved to them. Potitus’ face grew into a questioning scowl as he saw Marcus’s hand raised towards him.

  ****

  Mascullus yawned and then stopped mid-way through the action as his feet felt wet, a sudden sloshing noise making his tired eyes stare towards the floor of his tent. Having completed the night shift at the walls he had slept until late in the afternoon and had awoken bleary eyed just as the sun had begun to drop into the early afternoon.

  “What?” he said s he took a deep breath and blinked his eyes.

  “Attus” he said loudly to the man to his right, his deep sleep untouched by the noise of the call. “Attus” he called again, jumping from the cot, raised above the ground so he didn’t have to worry about snakes or rats.

  Attus jumped, his arm reaching for his dagger as he instantly thought they were under attack, the other three soldiers in the tent also jumping at the noise, two yelling as they jumped from their cots into the ankle deep water befor
e jumping back and blinking their eyes.

  “Is this a joke?” a large man, his bald head but thick beard making his face look all the more terrifying , called. He stepped up and down before walking to Mascullus and frowning. Both men pulled aside the tent flap to see several men standing outside their tents, ankle deep in water. Attus appeared, his bleary eyes gazing at the water and out into the lake.

  “It’s a sign” he said, a tone of fear in his voice. “The gods don’t want us here” he said, gripping the talisman around his neck as other men looked to him, their mouths open. There was a sudden movement, almost a wave, as a small rise occurred in the water, as it rose another inch. The men looked to each other and froze, their worst fears running through their minds.

  “Get your kit and get to dry land” came the voice of their Centurion, his groggy eyes showing that he too had only just been woken from his slumber after their night shift.

  Scipio arrived moments later as tents were dropping and men sloshing through shin deep water with armfuls of sopping wet gear, their armour and swords clearly the first things they had rescued from the water.

  Scipio sloshed through until the water nearly reached his knees, standing and searching the horizon for something as the confused men stared at him. “Get on with it” he called to the laggards who were standing and watching him, the shout causing an instant increase in activity.