The Fall of Veii- Part 1

by Francis Mulhern

  ****

  “I won’t condone violence” Manlius spat as he turned on the two men standing in front of him, their faces red with anger after the last hour of bickering.

  “You don’t understand what it means to us. You patricians are all the same” came the angry retort from Bassano as he ground his teeth at Manlius, his chest stretched as he stood with his fists balled at his side.

  “So, you will hit me? You will take out your anger on the man who is trying to help you?” he said with a snarl as Rufus stepped between the two men and lifted his arms.

  “Come on you two” he cajoled “this isn’t helping.”

  “No” pointed Bassano, raising his voice to a shout “He isn’t helping. What has all his postulating achieved? Talk, talk, talk but no action. My son is dead because of that bastard, his family living in their rich house with the money that we gained” he turned and shook his head as he kicked at a stool sending it skittering across the floor of the room. “He” he said again with malice in his voice, jabbing his finger at Manlius “doesn’t understand our plight. Why is he here anyway?” he said to Rufus, his eyes red rimmed with the fury that was bursting from within him.

  “I asked him” said Rufus, standing tall as he looked at his old friend, the tired face and hollow eyes looked even worse than the last time they had met. A short silence filled the room before Tolero stood and gripped Bassano’s arm. “Come on, sit down” he said gruffly, his one good eye flicking from Rufus to Manlius.

  “I tell you again” Manlius said as Bassano sat heavily onto a long wooden bench “Postumius and Ahala are planning something and we need to know what it is. They connived to get the Senate to agree to Postumius’s challenge regarding the spoils from Bolae and they paid the priests, I am sure of it” he said as he looked at the floor with a shake of his head. “Whatever they are up to we need to know” he added after a moment.

  “How?” replied Bassano as he slapped the table in front of him with the palm of his hand. “Tell me” he said without looking at Manlius, “tell me how you know this. If you have proof we can take it to the Plebeian Tribunes” he added with a hopeful look to Rufus.

  Manlius sat, his breathing heavy as he leant forward, his elbows on the table. “I have no real proof” he said slowly with a shake of his head. “They seem to be one step ahead of us at every turn” he added as he glanced at Rufus.

  “This is getting us nowhere” Tolero said, his anger rising. “I’m with Bassano, we take this into our own hands. The Plebeian Tribunes are useless, the law is on the Patricians’ side and we have nothing we can do to regain our rewards” he said as he sat back with his arms folded across his chest, flecks of spittle white in the corner of his mouth as he spoke.

  “And do what?” Manlius said with a shrug. “The law must be followed if you are to get compensation” he said. “I have spent days paying people to get me information, to get a crack in their armour where I can punch my knife” he said, using a phrase all the ex-soldiers would be used to, “but so far, nothing” he said, his exasperation written across his face.

  Bassano stood and looked to Rufus with a shake of his head, glancing to the three men behind him and finally to Tolero. “That settles it Rufus” he said, waving away his friend’s hand as he beckoned him to sit. “These meetings are of no use, all they do is twist and turn my mind making me feel like an ant under the Patricians’ sandals” he turned to Tolero.

  “Are you with me?” he asked as a grin split the one-eyed man’s face and he stood clasping forearms with Bassano. “Rutilus? Felix?” he asked to two of the men behind him, who both did the same, gripping his forearm tightly before he turned to the last man. “Amitus you had better stay with these two, you weren’t at Bolae and you can support the families if our actions go wrong” he said with a stiff nod.

  “What actions” shouted Manlius as he stood and stared at the men in front of him, his eyes searching every one of the men with a measure of fear and urgency.

  “Plebeian business” spat Bassano as he produced a mock smile to Manlius and turned his face to Rufus, who remained motionless staring at the table.

  “I am sorry my old friend, it must be done” he said placing a hand on his shoulder before turning and striding from the room.

  “What are they doing?” Manlius called, looking at Rufus and Amitus as the room emptied, “What are they doing?”

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  Chapter 25

  Narcius grunted as the ladder shuddered under the weight of several heavily clad legionaries above and below him, the thick wood bending precariously as the man ahead of him slashed into the arm that attempted to push the ladder away from the wall.

  A scream to his side made him glance to his right, a sudden fear that the man might crash into him and knock him from his position dispelled as the blur of a body disappeared into the empty space below him, a thick crunch the only sound as the man hit the ground.

  “Keep moving” he called, his hand attempting to grip the ladder as well as the hilt of his sword, his shield tied across his back. The attack had been swift, the towers creating a space into which the first ladders had run, the first cheering men scythed down as they reached the top of the walls without any resistance. The defenders had spread out as soon as the ladders arrived, several points being attacked at once to thin their lines. A sudden spray of blood washed into Narcius’s vision, his blinking eyes quickly focusing as the head of the defender above him was jerked backwards with such force that he didn’t have the time to see anything other than the eyes of the man who was snarling at him simply disappear into a cloud of red as a bolt went straight through his face.

  “Now” he yelled “Go” he screamed, battering the man above him with his shoulder as he attempted to scramble up the last few feet to the top of the wall. Finger nails scratched his leg from below causing him to swear and scream louder to move faster as his legs pumped to get up the last steps. The man ahead of him was over the wall, three he said as he clambered onto the cold stone and slid on his thigh to jump to the parapet, its wooden boards already slick with blood. No two his mind told him as he saw the body of the first man over the wall falling into the space to his right, into the city. “Line” he called, trying desperately to grip his shield and set his feet into the slippery footholds of the wooden floor. A clang told him the next soldier was over the wall and preparing to get into position behind him. The walkway was only two men wide and Narcius gripped the leather shoulder pads of the man behind him, dragging him into the line to face three snarling defenders. “Hold this line Eagles” he shouted as he grinned at the approaching men, their long swords flashing as they crept towards them. He heard cheers behind as he turned quickly to see several places where the Romans had gained the wall, the sudden thumping sound of a thousand marching men closing to the gate coming to his ears. This was what he lived for, he thought as he grinned at the first defender to swing his long sword at the front line of his First Century of Eagles. The legionary in front of Narcius simply swivelled his shield as the attack came and ducked into a short stabbing reach, taking the man in the rib cage with a great heave of air before he grunted as he twisted his sword and returned to his stance, a perfectly executed movement, Narcius thought. The defender didn’t have time to grunt as he fell to his knees and was knocked over the parapet by another defender, his eyes screwed tight against the pain as his blood leaked onto the floor in front of him.

  “Come on” roared the man in front of Narcius, clearly enjoying his first battle.

  “Steady, lad” Narcius said through a wide grin. “Remember your training. They come to you, you stay ready and get under their sword arm” he said slowly as the next defender, using a two-handed grip, stuck his sword straight out in front of him. Narcius had time to look into the city, the walkway to the gates was ahead of him and the gates almost directly to the left at the bottom of the steps. He smiled as the legionary ahead of him sliced into the th
igh of his attacker, ripping a long slice deep into his muscle. As the man buckled under the pain, his lungs screaming, the legionary simply rocked back on the balls of his feet and butted his shield boss into the man’s face, knocking him senseless and shoving him over the drop into the city, his arms circling wildly before he fell.

  Narcius turned to the wall searching for Marcus and waved his sword in three wide arcs before turning back to the defenders streaming up the walkway. “Forward” he called “to the gates” and he shuffled along behind the two legionaries in front of him with his shield held firmly across his body as another defender fell to his death ahead of the moving tide of Romans.

  **

  Marcus felt the exhilaration of the run, his legs hammering out the staccato rhythm of the short steps as the soldiers moved en-masse towards the gates, the Centurion calling his men to stay in line. From his position in the front line he could see the two towers to his right and left covered in tiny pin-pricks where the arrows of the defenders had been wasted. He grinned at Potitus’ ingenuity and then focused on the gates ahead of him. Narcius had given the signal that they were moving for the gates and Regillensis had finally gained the wall to the left of the gates, his task was to clear the walls so that the Roman archers could take positions from which to fire into the city itself. Marcus smiled at how easy it had been so far, his glance to the skies followed by a mumbled invocation to Fortuna.

  “Fortuna smiles on us today, Sir” came a reply from his right where a fresh-faced Centurion, his first command smiled back at him as he jogged along effortlessly. The young man’s eyes flashed with a mad glint, his grin showing his exhilaration. Marcus glanced at Quintus Fabius, the third son of one of the more pre-eminent families in Rome who his father had asked him to add to his army to ‘blood’ the lad as a favour to their family. So far, he had been an excellent, though often drunken, junior officer who had taken to being off the leash from his family with verve.

  “We’re not done yet Fabius” replied Marcus with a smile as he glanced forwards again “but the goddess does watch over us. Just keep your head down and stick to your training” he added. Ahead the walls were starting to show Roman helmets as the archers sprinted from their wicker screens to climb the ladders, their speed across the ground impressive compared to the steady trot of the more heavily armed foot soldiers. Marcus knew that it was now all about timing. The speed of the attack on the city had been their advantage, the defenders not expecting either the towers or the sudden onslaught as they thought they were safe behind their walls. The column of men was starting to slow down as it approached the gate, the sounds of sandals thumping the floor and metal clanging on metal getting louder as the men tightened up in their approach to the gates.

  **

  Narcius leapt from the last step, fanning out into the space as several well-armoured defenders rushed at him and his men. “Close the line, keep it tight” he yelled as a small legionary stepped forwards to hack at the spear of a tall man, his bronze helmet with a long nose-guard surely a relic of some Greek ancestor. A bump at his shoulder told him another man was in line, then another. He grinned and glanced to his left, the gate was surrounded by a column of spears, death written in their shining iron points. Narcius knew that spears were no use against his maniples, their ability to quickly attack, break into small groups and surround an enemy with speed would soon overwhelm them. He glanced right and then above to check that no other threats existed. To his right were the town houses, a series of wide roads running away into the distance were crammed with soldiers marching towards them in deep rows, spears held in the air to traverse the narrow junctions.

  “Speed lads. Speed” he called. “Maniples” he yelled, the veins appearing in his neck as his throat hurt at the cry. “Now!”

  Instantly a series of groups of men split from the line, each group of eight sprinting to form a small knot of shields bristling with swords. The spears of the attackers crossed each other as they followed their lines of sight, each man unsure which Roman to aim for.

  “Attack” called Narcius as he stepped forwards, batting a long spear away as it jabbed slowly at him, the face of a boy no more than fifteen years of age almost crying with fear as he stepped into the gap between his spear and shield and punched his sword into the boy’s neck, the soft tissues exploding as his head was whipped around. Kicking the falling body Narcius didn’t have time to feel the warm blood on his arm as he parried another spear, the movement coming from the man’s shoulder telling his trained eyes exactly where the tip would go. Again, a flick of his shield and a punch forwards with his sword saw the defender fall as two men either side of the, now dead and falling, man also fell to their knees under his Eagles onslaught. The gate was now only three men away as Narcius heard the first clatter of wood on stone as the rear line scrambled away from the attack on the gate. Within a heartbeat some men stood with hands in the air calling for surrender and mercy and others rushed away, scrambling in any direction where there was a clear space, fear and panic taking control.

  “Clear the space, set the line and get these idiots out of the way” yelled Narcius as he whirled to see the mass of defenders quickly settling into a line across the entrance to the inner city some fifty yards away. “And get that bloody gate open” he screamed as the first Ferentian slammed into one of his men. He whirled back at the oncoming column and shuddered, he hoped Marcus had reached his position.

  “Hold the line men and then when the gates are open we run” he shouted to the men around him who were setting their feet into a low stance and settling their shields to form a barrier.

  **

  “There” said Fasculus, his position mid-way up a tree just beyond the line of the river giving him a clear sight of the back of the city.

  “Where” whispered Mella, his arms clinging to the thin branches.

  “See where the bucket lands, its darker. How did I miss it?” he said with a shake of his head. “Felix” he whispered back down to the ground as the man looked up and waved. “Go now, fetch the Eques, at least a hundred” he said with a grin.

  “I might have got you wrong after all” smiled Mella “though I wouldn’t put a bet on it” he laughed as Fasculus smiled.

  **

  Marcus let out a deep breath as the gate shuddered, a small cloud of dust moving at the base of the thick wooden doors as they started to slide outwards bringing a great cheer from the Romans, some of whom leapt forwards and sprinted to the gap carrying hammers and long wooden stakes. As the doors reached half their aperture he saw that Narcius and his men were struggling to hold their position, the front line visibly buckling under a great weight from the phalanx of spears driving into them from the defenders.

  “Halt” he shouted as he heard Calvus repeat the order from behind. “Scorpions” he called as he glanced to Fabius, his mouth split into a wide grin as he turned to look over his shoulder. Marcus hoped his planning had been meticulous enough. He glanced back at Narcius, the back of his men now clearly visible as the gates were fully open. Six Romans on each side of the gates were hammering stakes into the ground to hold them open, their work rate tremendous, arms thumping up and down, the clatter of the hammers indistinct in the noise of the fighting beyond the gate. Behind him Marcus heard the legionaries moving aside as twenty men rushed forwards with the Scorpions and their bolts, the heavy breathing sounding ridiculously loud compared the sounds of battle from fifty yards ahead. Potitus appeared behind them as Marcus stepped forwards.

  “Sir” said Fabius, his eyes bright and eager as he touched Marcus’s forearm. “May I step closer to see? I’ve heard such good things of...” he glanced, a wicked smile on his face, at the men hurriedly setting up the machines. Thinking nothing of it Marcus tapped his shoulder “come then” he said as he stepped up to Potitus.

  “This is a masterstroke” Potitus said as he walked along the line of Scorpions, each legionary carefully placing the legs and checking the machine was set sturdily into the ground. Marcus
looked at the gates and smiled. “Scipio gave me the idea” he said with humility. “You know what he’s like with details. As soon as he said that the gateway could be our sticking point I had to find a way to clear it. I hope Fortuna looks over us and this is that way” he said as he turned to look at the gates, Narcius glancing anxiously over his shoulder as the Roman Legion came to a standstill outside the city gates. Marcus saw Regillensis shouting orders to the men remaining on the walls, though he couldn’t hear what he was saying. He chided himself for not thinking through this part of the plan well enough and ground his teeth at the thought that his officer might be swamped by the defenders if the bolts didn’t do their work quickly enough before Regillensis could give the signal.

  “There” yelled Potitus, causing Marcus to jump as his mind was so focused on the gates. Potitus was tapping a point on one of the Scorpions as a soldier struggled to latch the bronze fitting into its housing. “Quickly” he added, his voice sounding frustrated rather than angry. Marcus looked back at the gates, three of the hammer wielders had joined the beleaguered line of Narcius, grabbing shields and swords from the dead at their feet whilst three had run back towards the waiting army. Marcus made a mental note to praise the three men’s bravery and give additional duties to the other three.

  “Are we ready?” he asked to Potitus.

  “Yes sir” he said as he stepped across the first Scorpion and tapped the wooden legs. Marcus noted that each Scorpion had a small wooden eagle tied to a leather thong around the bronze sighting plate. At the sight, his mind went to the prophecy and how the Eagle would lead Rome. This was his destiny, he thought, as he turned to the gates and called for the trumpets to sound retreat for Narcius, the blare cutting through the dull clatter of metal on metal from ahead of them.