The Fall of Veii- Part 1

by Francis Mulhern

  “Is it a scout?” asked the young officer who had been looking at the wheel, his eyes peering into the haze.

  “I’m not sure sir” said the burly legionary, quickly grabbing his kit and strapping a leather scabbard to his belt. Two other legionaries were picking their spears from the ground and coming to stand in the road with anxious faces as the rider picked up speed and galloped at them, his hand waving though the Romans were unsure if it was a placating gesture or a call to charge. Potitus, his fear growing in his stomach, grabbed his reins and pulled his sword from his scabbard as he mounted, his eyes straining at the approaching rider who had increased his pace.

  “Only one of him” said a voice to his left as Potitus pulled his skittish horse into a standing position and relaxed slightly, his hand gripping his sword tightly. “You men get your weapons, we’ll see who it is and what he wants.”

  Potitus nodded to the two riders with him and they trotted off towards the approaching man. As they closed the distance the man became recognisable as a Roman scout, the light colours of his tunic marking him out as a member of their force. The urgent look on his face caused Potitus to look beyond him in case he was being chased, but he could see no sign of an enemy beyond the lone horseman.

  As the scout dragged his horse to a stop, a thick dust cloud erupting from the floor as the white-laced sweat of the beast dripped from its neck, he half saluted as he gasped for breath, his eyes almost frantic as he searched the three riders in front of him.

  “A force of” he panted “a hundred horses coming this way, fast!” he exclaimed as he snatched a glance back over his shoulder. Potitus peered back behind the rider as he started to turn his horse, its nostrils flaring as it read its riders sudden urgency. “Quick” he called “back to the wagons.” Not needing a second order the men turned and kicked their mounts into a mad gallop, Potitus calling to Spurius and his men to run.

  ****

  “Are you sure this is correct Aquilinus?”

  “Indeed” replied Lars as he looked around the grain store, walking away behind the owner so that the man wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. Antoninius glanced at the order from Cicurinus and frowned, his thick eyebrows meeting in the middle as he cast his mind back over the last conversation he had held with the Senator. Something wasn’t right with this order, but he knew that Cicurinus wasn’t a man to be kept waiting and that the patricians changed their minds as quick as the weather. He shook his head slowly and wiped away a bead of sweat that was running down his cheek.

  “Right then” he said with a deep breath. “What do you need for your report?” he asked cautiously, looking at the back of the junior magistrate who had brought the order for him to personally review the grain merchant’s ledgers and stores. After a moment Lars turned, his face smiling at Antoninius.

  “What would you suggest?” he asked as he held out a hand for the order to be handed back to him, his eyes flicking between Antoninius’s and the tablet held in his hand. Antoninius had seen these upstart patricians come and go and knew a rat when he saw one. He pursed his lips as he narrowed his eyes, his mind working through offers and suggestions. He knew this man’s family name had been high a generation or two ago, and that he was ambitious, but he wasn’t sure where to place his gambit.

  “The last magistrate got three sacks a month plus first go at the new slave boys” he sneered, unsure if this man’s tastes were that way inclined.

  Lars remained with his hand out, his face impassive as he simply stood and looked directly into the eyes of the grain merchant. The merchant shifted uneasily, had he made a mistake or did the fellow want more? He gulped as his eyes flicked upwards, a movement that Lars knew meant the man was thinking through options. He had spent years learning the movements of the eyes and what they pertained to and in an instant, he knew he had his man. He let his head move slightly to the side as he raised his hand to request the return of the order, a move which caused Antoninius to sweat again, a long drip running down his temple and onto his cheek.

  “Three and the slave girls?” he asked, his eyes narrowing again as he peered at Lars.

  Lars dropped his arm slowly, seeing the corners of Antoninius’s mouth twitch as he suppressed a smile as quickly as it started to come to his face. Turning towards the doorway he shrugged and waved a hand “Four, you can have the slaves” he said as he looked back at the face of the merchant, his eyes narrow but his teeth showing through his grinning mouth.

  “Deal, and this?” he asked with a wave of the order from the Senator.

  “I will complete my report to say that you are beyond reproach, but the increased problem with mice and rats has lost, what, twenty sacks of grain?” he asked with his expression neutral but a curl at his lips showing that the merchant would see this as a chance to profit immediately from their arrangement. The man’s grin split his face as he handed the tablet back to the junior magistrate and replied, “I will have the evidence of the infestation in my office for you to take back to the Senator after we have had lunch” he said slapping Lars on the shoulder, at which the younger man winced but smiled.

  As the men walked back across to the open doorway Gatto slid from his hiding place, the smell of rotten fish almost making him gag as he slipped over the wall to the back of his cousin’s garum factory, a new venture which had seemed expensive but was providing a lucrative income for the family. Gatto carefully avoided the barrels of fish entrails which would be sold to the fishermen later that day, a good secondary income from the business. As he dipped under a long line of air dried fish he considered his options, Javenoli or Manlius, who would pay him best for this information? Having a junior magistrate in your pocket could be good for both men and he looked to the skies and thanked Fortuna for putting him near the entrance to the grain store when he saw the young Aquilinus enter.

  ****

  As Potitus reached the broken wagon he twisted to look behind at the road, no sign of riders was yet visible, so he slowed slightly and glanced around at the retreating Romans as they ran for the back of the column, calling a warning to the men there as they did. A thought flashed through Potitus’ mind as he dug his heels into his horse’s sides and shouted for the animal to pick up its pace.

  Sliding from the horse he called to Narcius, who was lining up two rows of men across the road, their spears and shields creating an effective barrier, “Narcius, bring me ten of the Scorpions” at which the primus pilus had grinned wickedly and sent a number of the men rushing away into the wagons beyond them.

  Marcus appeared with Mella as Potitus ran back to the line of soldiers and stared into the distance at the lonely wagon, its contents spilled out onto the road where the soldiers had left them.

  “What is it?” asked Marcus as he dropped to the ground and ran alongside his friend.

  “Raiding party I reckon” came the reply as Potitus was kicking stones off the road and looking up and down, his head bobbing like a chicken as he strutted along kicking the ground. “That bunch that have trailed us for a few days, looking for easy pickings I guess.”

  “What are you doing” Marcus asked, his voice quiet as he glanced at the men, also looking strangely at their officer, who seemed intent on kicking stones out of the road behind them.

  “Clearing the ground Camillus” he looked up with a wicked grin “for the Scorpions” he added as Marcus took seconds to comprehend his words. He glanced back along the road at which a handful of riders had appeared and reined in beyond the last wagon and clenched his teeth, a sudden rush of excitement coming to him.

  “You think they will attack the wagon?”

  “I would” replied Potitus, still kicking stones. “Look at it, a wagon of spoils left unattended, the men two hundred yards away and no-one left to defend the loot. What would you do if you were a raider Camillus?” he asked as the first legionary appeared, his breath rasping as he ran with the wooden body of the machine clutched tightly to his chest.

  Marcus looked up at the riders, who
were discussing whether they would make the wagons before the soldiers could run back to it. With a whoop, the lead bandit dashed forwards, his horse’s ears drawn back and its nostrils flaring as he charged forwards.

  “Will we have time?” asked Marcus as another two Scorpions arrived, Narcius quickly setting them up and calling forward the men he had trained in their use.

  “I hope so” Potitus said as he stood and clutched one of the bundles of bolts which had just arrived; five bolts wrapped in a blanket and tied with a thick cord in two places. Pulling his dagger from his belt he sliced the cords and glanced back along the road. The riders were now almost at the wagons, the faces of the men clearly visible as they peered at the Romans, a mad look of lust on their faces.

  Marcus looked at the strained face of one of the men as he twisted the locking mechanism on the Scorpion, hearing another grunt as he did the same to his machine. He grinned, this would be interesting.

  “Quickly” he found himself saying before he chided himself for the order, it was down to these men now, and they knew they needed speed. He placed himself behind the first bolt thrower, the mechanism being wound and the sighting line being drawn. With a clunk, the first bolt snapped into the firing mechanism and Potitus fussed over the angle for a second, the legionary furrowing his brow as Potitus twitched the angle and looked to Marcus. “We need a brass plate here with lines for the angles” he said, almost to himself as he tapped the housing of the mechanism before he stepped across to the second Scorpion and went through the same motions.

  At the wagon, the first raiders stooped from their horses, their mad eyes glinting as they grabbed at the sacks and attempted to haul them up onto their horses, one man slipping and falling from his horse as the weight of the sack was too much for his precarious position as he leant over too far from his tall mount, a burst of laughter coming from his companions as he stood and yanked at his snorting horses reins.

  As he fumbled with the sack he glanced over his shoulder at a loud thumping sound, which to his ears sounded like somebody throwing a large sack of flour to the floor. In his peripheral vision, he saw a black blur, reminding him of a bee or a fly which was flying too close to his eyes, but he twisted to grip his horse, such minor concerns didn’t worry him today. He knew that this sack of loot held enough for him to sell at the market and make him a good profit. As he grinned and considered what a good idea it was to join this raiding party he heard another thump from close behind him and turned to see Arxitus taken from his horse by a thick arrow which split his body as it drove straight through his chest and dragged the man, screaming momentarily, onto the floor, the scream dying before his dead body bounced in the dust. As his eyes widened he felt a great shove from behind as his horse whirled and screamed, its legs kicking madly as both he and his horse leapt in the air, joined together by a thick shaft of wood which sent a searing pain through his body.

  The legionaries cheered as the second bolt thumped into the man trying to regain his mount, the wooden shaft bursting through the man’s stomach and into the belly of the animal, a mad scream of the man-horse coming at the same time as the animal jumped and dashed in a frenzied circle before crashing to the ground, man and horse legs thrashing for seconds before they both came to a limp halt.

  Thump. Thump.

  Two more bolts were let fly as the raiders screamed and turned their horses, the look of fear etched into their eyes as they watched the thick arrows of death thrown towards them. A crowd of legionaries had rushed to the scene to see the bolts flying and Marcus, surprised, turned to call, half-heartedly “back to your positions men, they could be approaching from other sides” though he knew that the only real danger was facing their rear.

  Potitus was calling the crews to load and fire, his mind ticking through the timings and mechanics of the action as the men worked efficiently to load and fire the machines. One bolt missed its target, skittering along the road, the iron tip scraping into the dirt as the wood bounced along to the groans of the firing crew, who were already re-loading. The majority of the raiders had turned tail and fled, those at the back of the attack had seen the devastation of the bolts and turned to flee instantly, but those near the front were almost in two minds whether to try and grab some of the sacks or to turn and race away.

  “There” called a voice as Marcus saw a man jump on his horse from behind the wagon, a sack under his arm as his horse circled as he tried to mount it.

  “This coin to the Scorpion that gets him” called Potitus, picking a thick bronze coin from his purse and holding it aloft to a cheer from the men. Marcus looked at the faces of the soldiers, all grinning madly at the scene and saw Mella grabbing arms and shouting odds to the soldiers, many eagerly waving coins, trinkets or ingots at the man as Marcus shook his head at his actions.

  Thump.

  The man bit his lip as he leapt onto the horse, the sack pulling his arm and swinging into the rump of the animal with a metal clanging sound at which he smiled, his thoughts suddenly going to what was in the sack and its potential value. The taste of blood in his mouth made him curse loudly as he watched the rest of the raiders scurrying from the hail of iron bolts, his heart pounding with a sense of fear he had never felt before.

  Thump.

  The first bolt smashed into the wagon, blasting the wood into shards as his horse reared at the sudden explosion by its side.

  Thump.

  The second whistled over his head, his eyes watching it as he kicked furiously into his horse’s sides, his free hand dragging the reins as he struggled to lift the sack as the animal stomped back onto four legs and kicked into a gallop, it’s mad eyes staring accusingly at its rider.

  Thump.

  He felt the horse gain its feet and kick into its stride, a sense of relief coming to him as he gripped the sack more tightly and set his jaw in a grin, he was free, there was no way they could throw an arrow this far, he thought.

  Then with a sudden crash his horse went from under him, the bolt slicing into its hind quarters as the beast twisted and screamed in pain. The rider’s leg was pushed forward as the bolt passed straight through the horse and into his calf, ripping the lower part of his foot away as he felt himself fall, pain scorching through his body. He heard a great cheer from the Romans and then his head hit the road and everything went black.

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  Chapter 16

  Publius Postumius felt angry. He looked at the three Senators, their faces expressionless as they sat in their gilded chairs watching him.

  “The priests have agreed, and my case is clear” he added, his words firm as he stared from man to man. The room, with its high ceiling, was stiflingly hot as the wooden shutters to the windows had been closed for this legal meeting. Postumius sat back in his chair and placed his arms on his thighs as he sat tall and took the stoic pose his Greek tutor had taught him all those years ago.

  “The soldiers refused to obey their orders, they broke their oaths and as such they lose all claim to the rewards of the campaign” he said calmly “as I stated in my report” he finished. A mumble came from the Senators around the room, many dragged from their baths for this extraordinary meeting of the council.

  The room was filled with as many of the Senators as had been able to attend, with three appointed as the senior judges to preside over the case Postumius had brought. As the three men looked to each other Postumius glanced at the man he hated most in all of Rome, Gaius Javenoli, his fat face watching him like a hawk as the three Senators looked again at the words from the priests. Postumius knew that all legal matters had to be ratified by the priests of Rome, and he also knew that the Pontifex Maximus could over-ride any decision that the priests made and that at present the man was outside the city visiting his sick mother in her villa on the coast in Campania. Timing had been everything and he had rushed to the city as soon as his spies had confirmed that the Pontifex Maximus was out of the city and unable to influence the proc
eedings.

  He smiled to himself as the three men continued to discuss the situation in hushed tones, their animated faces and gestures showing that the money he had used to bribe both the priests and one of the judging Senators had been well spent. With any luck, this loot from Bolae and the retainer he had secured from the Capenates for some of the land deeds around Bolae would clear the enormous debts he had built up over the last two years since Javenoli had stopped his patronage. He glanced again to Javenoli as the man leant and whispered to the younger man next to him. Postumius wondered what the old fool was saying, but his mind was brought back to the three Senators as they seemed to have come to a decision, a nod from each head and deep sigh from the paid Senator suddenly causing his heart to jump in his chest as he shifted on his seat and frowned, trying not to look concerned.

  The older Senator stood, his face blank as he turned to the audience of old grey-haired men who sat around the room awaiting the chance to review or influence the decision. Adjusting his toga across his arm the man looked directly at Postumius, taking a small drink of watered wine before speaking.

  “Your report details that Roman soldiers drew their swords against their commander” he started, a stern look coming to his face as a murmur went around the room. “It states that the men of your Legion surrounded your campaign tent and demanded your prisoners be released, aided by” he glanced at the report “Aulus Manlius.” Shaking his head, the old Senator continued. “Furthermore, despite your requests for the men to return to their units they refused and remained” he looked at the report again “against their own Centurions’ wishes” he read as he looked up at Postumius with wide eyes. Postumius nodded, his face downcast as if he had been greatly offended by such an act from the soldiers. “Such a thing has never happened before Tribune” he said, his face glum as his eyes looked up and around the room of Senators, all ex-soldiers themselves.