The Fall of Veii- Part 2

by Francis Mulhern

  At this the officers did cheer, long and hard, the men outside stopping to see what the noise was and some nodding vigorously at the sudden emotion coming from the command centre as hundreds gravitated over to the scene to try and be the first to find out what good news had caused the officers reactions.

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  Chapter 16

  The city of Napete was small, too small for the thousands of men sited around the walls. The stench of rotting vegetables in the drainage ditches and over-filled urine pits permeated the air. Testosterone fuelled men, ready for war, strutted along the narrow roads and kept the local prostitutes busy. Whichever way you looked at it if the army didn’t leave soon the men would turn on themselves and annihilate each other.

  “Has Soticus arrived yet?” asked Sentillius, his beard dripping with goose fat as he picked his teeth clean with a fragment of bone.

  “Not yet, Sir” came the reply. “The scouts said he will arrive by nightfall.”

  Sentillius nodded. So they would discuss the plan and march by the morning. Three days to Veii with so many men and then glory. He grinned.

  ****

  In the darkness Marcus had watched as the men brought sack after sack of dirt from the tunnel, the rows of men carrying it to the lake and depositing it around the edge of the water. All day long other men toiled to lift the water and spread it onto the fields, the ground bursting into fresh growth at the sudden appearance of such a deluge. The Veientines continued to attack the ramparts, which Marcus’ men also half-heartedly replaced during the day and retreated from attacks during the nights. As far as he knew Veii still did not know of their plans. Tomorrow would be the festival and he would call for the gods to leave Veii, offering them new homes within the walls of all-conquering Rome. His mind had worked through the words he would use and the details of the offerings to the gods, especially those that the Veientines would know and understand. Planning was everything, he thought as he walked back towards the wooden palisade. The words of the prophecy given to him coursed through his mind; The water will shrink before him in his hour of need, that seemed to be the case, though he was intervening with manpower not divine will. He considered how he would use the words to Fortuna, Mater Matuta and finally Juno, the patron goddess of Veii, to call down the goddess’s wrath on the city and finally end this ten year war. The city must be purged and killed, killed, all of them he thought, the words clear in his mind. Never to be a city again. A sadness fell over him at the thought. How many thousands were hiding in the city, behind its high walls? He snapped out of the morose thought, his mind turning to the treatment he would receive if he were unlucky enough to be captured by the King of Veii. The gods had spoken to him and it was as it must be, the city would fall and everyone who bore arms against them would be killed. Everyone.

  He turned at a noise and Potitus, his face muddy, appeared at a trot, his eyes showing an urgent intent.

  “What?” Marcus asked, a sudden fear coming to his voice.

  “We’ve broken into a drainage ditch. It seems to run right into the city” he said, his white teeth gleaming from his mud covered face.

  “Really? That’s impossible. Already?” he beamed.

  “Already.”

  “Come, tell me about it”

  As the two men strode away Potitus described how the digging had hit a long stretch of soft ground, so soft he had added wooden poles to the sides of the tunnel as the silver miners did near his home town. After a while the soft ground had hit hard bedrock, which turned into a wide tunnel in which flowed a strong, steady stream of water, the man-made walls making it clear that it was the remnants of an old water course now used as a drainage ditch by the city and no doubt ending up in the lake. Marcus was delighted with the news.

  “It gets better” Potitus said as Marcus stopped walking and turned to his friend, his face dark in the flickering light of the torches at the walls.

  “How?” he asked.

  “I’ve been in the drain myself and followed it to the end. It’s as wide as two men and you can walk with a low stoop, it’s this high” he held up a hand to just level with Marcus’ ear. As Marcus was tall for a Roman this meant that most men could easily move along the drain if they walked with a stoop. Marcus looked into the beaming eyes of his friend.

  “What’s at the end?” he asked, almost not wanting to hear the news.

  “The drain passes many channels which must be coming from the houses in the city, most too small for a man to clamber through. But it continues to rise and ends at a steep climb up a short well.” Marcus held his breath as he saw the white teeth splitting his friends face. “The well is within the central Temple of Veii” he announced as Marcus’ jaw fell. His mind went over the plans of the city that they had. The temple where the statue of Juno was held. What could be more fitting? Surely the gods were smiling on him now, he thought, his mind racing through possibilities. Potitus clapped him on the shoulder “Come on, let’s get that drink before I take you to see for yourself” he called as he moved past Marcus and headed for the dark buildings of the camp.

  ****

  The following day had broken with a low wind and a warm sun, the few clouds that hung in the sky breaking into thin wisps as the early morning brought a clamour of activity at the Roman camp. Wicker screens had been erected in the space between the city and the siege wall, men standing, spears aloft, as the defenders atop the battlements peered down at the Roman movement. The camp followers had been invited, some setting up colourful stalls in the space, though everyone kept a wary eye on the gates of the city as the smell of meat and sounds of music began to spring into the air. The soldiers that were on duty in the tunnel had been granted two hours leave to attend the festival and the Augurs and soothsayers were hawking their trade in drab coloured tents as the men and women milled about, all soldiers fully armed and prepared just in case the Veinetines should march out at them.

  As ordered the trumpets announced the march of the religious symbols and the Eagle and other standards of the legions, each brightly adorned and covered in garlands picked by the men the previous day.

  Marcus donned his helmet and stepped out into the sunlight, his officers lined up in front of him. He nodded to Narcius who set the marching cohorts into action under the loud trumpets and the dancing of a group of women he had commandeered the previous night. The music had a startling affect on the men, all the frivolity suddenly becoming sombre as thousands of men fell into lines and watched as the effigies of Juno, Mater Matuta and a shrine with a spear point and an arrow head filled with flowers and herbs for Fortuna were marched past. Marcus had walked the route and placed bowls at set distances from which he could stand and sprinkle the effigies with water from the lake as he called the spirits to attend the festival with the Roman gods and to leave Veii behind. As he called the words at the first bowl more men appeared on the walls, some jeering, others calling for quiet to listen to the words being spoken. Marcus spoke even louder to make sure that they could hear. Finally he approached the closest point to Veii, the men holding the wicker screens turning outwards to watch the walls more intently in case a hopeful arrow was sent at their Tribune.

  Turning so that his voice would carry to the walls Marcus removed his helmet and covered his head in his robe, taking out the iron knife that he carried, a gift from his departed Uncle many years before and placing it down on a low wooden table that a slave had raced across and placed in front of him.

  As he lifted his arms the enormous crowd, over four thousand Roman soldiers and another thousand or more camp followers hushed themselves into silence. Marcus felt a power start to reach into his body as all eyes looked to him, including the eyes on the wall.

  “Romans, we celebrate the festival of the goddesses and the spirits of the lake, as we have been asked to do” he said, already noting the confused looks on the Veienteine leaders who were now straining to see what was happening below them. “I call o
n the gods to honour us with their presence as we dedicate this day to them.” He called the name of each god and goddess, the cheers of the men rising as their Centurions orchestrated the noise, as Marcus has asked them to do. As he dedicated the sacrifices, sprinkling the animals with water from the lake, burning the offerings in the correct order and spending time to douse each of the entrails in the correct amount of oil he finally turned his body to fully face the walls of Veii. His heart rose in his chest as he felt it skip into a heavier rhythm, the beat almost like a marching tune as it skipped steadily along. The walls were full of jeering people, his prayers and rituals had been so consuming he hadn’t had a thought to check the walls. But now, as he turned to look at them the people of Veii threw stones, rotten vegetables and pots of faeces at him, all of them falling well short as he stood and looked at their angry faces, biding his time before he spoke the words he had pored over for hours.

  Marcus thought through the words, were they good enough for his protectors? Would Juno, Mater Matuta and Fortuna really support him in his hour of need as the prophecy seemed to say or would he stand here today and call on them and they turn their heads from him. A nervousness came over him as he felt his heart beat quicken and a cold wind blow along the front of the city. His senses became heightened as he heard the noise begin to calm, a few final jeers and curses coming out from the assembled lines of featureless faces along his enemies wall. He knew that Juno was also known as Uni Teran by the Veientines and that the shrine in the citadel in the South of the city held an archaic wooden statue said to have been carved by Hercules himself, though he doubted such myths. He felt the weight of the wooden eagle and the scroll he held around his neck as he swallowed slowly and licked his lips as he prepared to speak.

  “Once great city of Veii” he called, a few jeers coming back to him from men in one of the lower sections of the wall ramparts. “The prophecy of Minios says that your walls will never be breached until the lake is drained.” He raised his arm and turned theatrically to point behind him. “See how the waters shrink.” Some moans came from the walls, the reaction settling his nerves a little as he let his eyes rove along the wall, every face turned towards him. Calling to the gods brought his fears to his mind, if the gods were with him then his cause was just, but he remembered the words of Calvus which said that great men fell from the grace of the gods because they did not pay due homage to them. It was as easy to be cast from the grace of the gods as it was to be struck with a spear, and he knew it. Yet, he thought, the prophecy was a sure sign of divine support and what he had to say next would surely prove that to him and all those who knew of its existence. He smiled broadly, his oiled beard moving as he swept his gaze along the walls.

  “Great goddess Uni Teran” he called as gasps went up from the walls “Juno” he shouted. “The spirits of the water follow your great city, Rome. They flee this place, which they know will fall, its walls breached and its people slaughtered” he held his head low, his chin rising and falling in line with his breathing. He counted to thirty, knowing that this was the required length of time for supplication to the gods before he looked up again. Behind him some cheers began as women appeared on the walls, their high pitched wailing brining joy to the thousands of Roman standing listening behind him.

  “Uni Teran” he shouted again. “Juno” he looked at the knot of men above the gate, the King staring back at him with his deep eyes in shadow. “Leave this town where you now dwell and follow our victorious army into our city of Rome, your future home” he called more loudly to cheers from the Romans. “which will receive you in a temple worthy of your greatness. A temple I dedicate to you now Juno. I say again, as the spirits of the water have joined with Rome and will be worshipped in our great city, your temple will shine as a star in the night amongst the gods of Rome.”

  Theatrically he slipped the final entrails into the small fire in front of him, the flames jumping as a sizzling sound was followed swiftly by a great black cloud, at which the people on the wall of Veii cried in alarm. The meaning was clear, and Marcus smiled at his words, keeping his eyes low as chants of ‘Camillus, Camillus’ came from the Roman camp.

  ****

  The noise from the city had nearly been as loud as the sounds of joy and laughter that had come from the festival at the Roman camp, the majority of the people moving behind the walls soon after Marcus had finished speaking. Rations of wine were also reduced to keep the men sober in case the turn of events drew the Veientines into a rash attack. The festival continued unabated into the early evening as Marcus called all his senior officers to the planning room.

  “How is the digging going, do we have enough space for three men at a time?” he asked Potitus without looking up from a report. This had been his latest order, knowing that they needed to get into the city with as much speed as possible. Since seeing the entry point himself he had been fascinated by how wide the final approach was and how quiet and dark the temple was beyond the walls, its shutters closed as if the building were hardly used at all. The men had taken to working slowly but steadily to remove the final elements of stone and mud which would give them the easiest entrance to the well and the work was almost completely finished.

  “There is no more than two days work remaining” his friend beamed, his eyes twinkling at the answer.

  “Excellent” Marcus replied his gaze returning to the plan of the city spread out on the table on a thick vellum map in front of the officers. The map showed the layout of the city, its walls on the right bank of the Tiber with the old salt road crossing along its northern edge. Marcus remembered how the Roman Fabii clan had built their estates along the river Cremera just off the map as he looked at it. The salt trade had led to many wars and the clan had been wiped out by the Veientines nearly a hundred years before, sparking hostilities between the two cities. Scanning the map he noted the well engineered roads, remembering his brother saying they were wide and straight with good solid flagstones and cobbles for floors. The soothsayer Gerittix had added a few new square huts where the soldiers camped at night by the walls, his local knowledge had been invaluable before Marcus had sent him to Rome with a purse of money and a full belly. These sentry bases would have to be attacked first before the gates could be opened. His eye was caught by the drainage tunnels, the Cuniculi, which were also used to water the extensive fields around the city. He smiled to himself at the skill of Potitus and his engineering men, knowing that without them he would still be sat on his hands back here in the camp with no opportunity to fulfil his destiny.

  The city held a central square, similar to most Etruscan designs but much larger than that of Capena. The roads and houses were laid out in a grid pattern radiating from the central square with the only building that stood out as different in the whole city being the irregularly shaped temple in the south corner, that of Juno. Temple may have been the wrong word, it was a sanctuary, thick walls with high windows and sleeping quarters running along the side. He knew from his studies that the west side of the sanctuary held a wonderful terracotta statue of Apollo, though he couldn’t remember which pose the god held and for a moment he considered visiting it after they had defeated the city before a sudden cold feeling made him shudder and he tapped the hilt of his sword involuntarily before looking up to the curious gazes of the men, most of whom had seen the movement.

  “Thinking bad thoughts, Sir?” Mella asked as Fasculus smiled next to him.

  Marcus smiled warily but said nothing, his eyes returning to the map. He sat back in his chair with a deep sigh, some of the officers raising their eyebrows at the motion. He narrowed his eyes as he looked around the room.

  “I need to know more about what’s in the city” he said without looking at anyone in particular. “I need to know how easy it will be to get to the gates. I need to know where their horses are kept.” He pursed his lips in concentration. “I need to know what the morale of their men is like after today’s festival and religious ceremony” he said, looking up for the
first time to see several officers instantly flick their eyes away so as not to catch his stare. “I need someone to go into the city and scout around to find the answer to these questions” he said finally as he sat forwards and put his palms on the map, his eyes roving the room.

  “Caelio?” he asked.

  “I’d be spotted within a minute, sir” came the quick reply. “Look at me” he said, raising his hands and shrugging his very Roman face at the men, some laughing quietly, others saying nothing. “I am honoured by being in your thoughts though, Tribune” he said genuinely.

  “Then I need someone who looks Etruscan or at least maybe Greek, like a trader” he said as his eyes fell on Fasculus, who was shaking his head and sighing deeply as his eyes came to rest on him.

  “A trader” he said in jest. “Do I look like a trader? Me with my noble birth” he said with a long smile across his face as several of the officers laughed with him.

  “I will go with you” Potitus said as Marcus turned to look at him.

  “You look nothing like a trader” Mella said quickly to another guffaw from the soldiers around the table.

  Marcus smiled back at him. “It’ll be dangerous” he said.

  “I know, but who better to get to the gate and see the quickest way to get it open?” he replied.

  Marcus looked to the men’s faces, set firm in their determination.

  “I agree” he said as the two men nodded to each other. “But” he said you need to take another man with you, or a woman so you don’t stand out” he added, Mella nodding at the idea.

  “We can’t trust a woman” Mella said “she might cry out and attract attention from the soldiers. Take Fabius” he said as he looked to Marcus. “He is short, wiry and has the look of an Etruscan, a noble one I grant you but an Etruscan.”