The Fall of Veii- Part 2

by Francis Mulhern

  He turned and smiled at his brothers back as he was walking away. There was good leader that men would follow, he thought to himself as he nodded. If only there were more like him. This army was two thousand men or more now, a force which was nearly as strong as the Romans at Veii. If they could get a messenger into the city and launch a double strike they could destroy the whole army. He grinned at the thought as he set off towards the gate where his brother was standing shaking his fist at a guard who had leant his shield against the wall and was sitting on the floor dozing.

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  Chapter 17

  Javenoli placed the message on the table and nodded to his slave to pay the dusty messenger, adding that he would like two hours before the man delivered the message to its proper recipient. He smiled as he contemplated how he could use this to his advantage, nodding to the man as he took the message and replaced it in his pouch before disappearing through the doorway with the slave, the silver jingling as he placed that in his pouch as well.

  So, Veii was to come back to haunt Rome again. Rome would win, he thought to himself as he stood and wandered towards the garden at the centre of his villa, but how could he gain favour with the Senate. He decided he would intercept Marcus Furius Camillus on the road, if he left now he would be a few miles from the city before they met. He had spent time and money getting close to Camillus and his family and if the men delivering the goods to Veii had been tortured he might need his standing to hold back any future trouble that might come his way. If Camillus needed more men then he must surely think he was going to defeat Veii and Javenoli knew that he needed his own men in the city to kill anyone who knew of his involvement in supplying weapons and food to the city.

  It was time to change his plans and he smiled at the statue of Juno he had placed in the centre of his garden, the words he had read of Camillus’ future changing his allegiance to the mother goddess and making her the centre of his household. He moved across and poured a large measure of his best wine into the bowl at the foot of the statue and closed his eyes as he thought through how he would honour the goddess should Camillus win at Veii.

  ****

  Narcius and Fasculus had started the training for the close combat fighting, removing the men’s shields as they were too bulky to get through the tunnel. The training had started at first light but within an hour it was clear that the men needed additional support as many were falling to heavy bruises from the wooden training swords they used which they were finding difficult to wield without a shield.

  Mella had helped by fashioning a leather shoulder guard which could be tied to the chest guards of the men, but this too was restricting movement and the men were grumbling. After further tests and much adjusting the shoulder guards had been reduced in size and were holding up to the repeated knocks that were raining into them during the fighting.

  “Do you think we can win in there?” Mella nodded his head in the direction of the city.

  Fasculus and Narcius looked to each other, both men shrugging in reply.

  With a frown he asked the question again, his gaze caught by one soldier whose footwork was particularly good.

  “We have a good chance if the defence is at the walls, but we will need the luck of the gods to get the gates open and to hold them with three thousand men at our backs” Narcius replied coldly.

  “And the people will come out of their houses and attack us with pots and pans” laughed Fasculus.

  Mella grinned at the thought, knowing that thousands of civilians would cause just as much trouble to the Romans as the defending soldiers.

  “Will the Senate send more men?”

  “They must” came the quick reply.

  After a moment Mella called a halt to the training, both Centurions jumping as he yelled the command.

  “What? Why?” Fasculus asked indignantly as the junior officers trotted across to their seniors to see what the next set of orders would be and both men looked quizzically at Mella.

  “You” Mella called to the soldier whose footwork he had admired, “over here” he shouted.

  The soldier jumped to attention and trotted across, his face red from the exertion of training. When the junior officers arrived and Mella was satisfied that everyone was there he turned to Narcius with a nod as he waited for permission to speak which came quickly with a confused frown.

  “Name soldier” he asked as he took a wooden sword from a pile on the floor.

  “Visculus”

  “Right soldier, attack me” he said as he moved into his stance and stood back a pace from the man. The soldier looked to his own junior officer to await the nod which would allow him to proceed. The soldier moved into his stance, his right arm narrow to his side and left slightly out to counterbalance any move he made. Mella twitched his shoulder, at which the man stepped back and moved his body around to the right. With lightning speed Mella darted an attack to the man’s shoulder, but with three short steps and a slight duck he had moved out of range. Mella pressed the advantage and stepped in closer watching the man’s feet as they edged to the left then back to the right quickly. Visculus caught the attack with his sword and attempted a sweeping cut at Mella’s arm, missing by an inch as he moved further around, turning Mella to his right. The man’s eyes never left Mella’s and the two men moved quickly in a circle before Mella stepped forward with a feint which drew Visculus into a movement of his sword arm which Mella easily parried and thrust his hand into the chest of the soldier before stepping back with a smile on his face. Visculus was angry but held his stance, not allowing the strike to do anything more than anger him. Mella watched his feet again, the same three step movement which kept his balance strong. One, two, three he counted as the feet moved and he tried to catch the man’s sword arm, missing every time as Visculus was acting more defensively than he had seen him during the training.

  “Attack me man, like you did over there” he snarled as Visculus’ eyes widened.

  “Give it to him Visc” came a shout from a group of men who were standing watching with grins across their faces. Mella wished he had been quick enough to place a few bets before he’d started, but there had been no time.

  The words caused the legionary to move in a blur, the sword clashing into Mella’s with swift strokes, followed by easy footwork. One, two, three Mella counted as he admired the simplicity of the steps before saying “four” and stepping into the attack, knocking the sword arm back and striking the man heavily on the shoulder with his own, to a groan from the men behind him. Visculus stepped back and winced as the movement caught him, his eyes darting to his shoulder before looking again to Mella. The footwork was good and Mella had seen something he liked, but he needed to test it again, he held up his hand and Visculus relaxed, a little crestfallen but unhurt.

  “Excellent Visculus, but now I will demonstrate how you will beat me” he turned quickly to the group of men around him. “You three” he pointed his sword to three legionaries who quickly tried to disappear into the group behind them. “Here” he commanded.

  “You” he said as the men arrived and shuffled forwards. “Watch” he said as he stepped into a crouch and moved with the same three step movement, almost dancing as he counted aloud the three steps, then repeated it as he stepped around the men, his stance wide but strong. He then called “four – five” as he stepped forwards with a slash and thrust, counterbalancing his sword arm with a swing of his left, before starting his count of one, two, three again. Visculus’ eyes opened wide at the sudden movement, a light dawning in his mind at the sudden change to the stance and attack he had been used to taking. He grinned.

  “Teach them, quickly” Mella said as he stepped to his equipment and picked up the water pouch, gulping down a long drink as he nodded to Fasculus. He turned to the men around him. “In the streets you need to fight close and dirty, to find an edge on your opponent, to kill or be killed” he called as men moved closer. “Visculus has
a natural movement which will work in the streets, you must all learn it” he called, “it will save your life” he added.

  Within a moment Visculus and the men had stepped forwards, each man with a glint in his eye at the chance to better an officer. “Imagine I am a soldier in the streets of Veii” Mella called “and you four men see me coming at you” he said with a smile. “You will work from left to right, one at a time. Step into the movement, hit and step back” and then he raised his voice “the next man moves forwards, then the next, you take the same three step movement, then four-five” he moved his sword to the action and stepped back. “In this way you will move quickly along the street, you will not stop, you will kill everything that comes at you and you will only strike once before the soldier next to you steps forward. Understand?” he called.

  “Yes, Sir” came the chant from Visculus and the three men.

  “Right. You men” Mella called to the men standing watching “get behind me” he said as they shuffled into place. “You men” he said to another group. “Get those shields and create an alleyway seven men wide so we can get used to fighting in a confined space” he added as the men threw their swords to the floor and stepped across to the shields which were stacked neatly to the right. Mella nodded to Fasculus, who shook his head but smiled back at him.

  As soon as the alleyway was formed Mella nodded to the man behind him and stepped back “go on then” he said with a broad smile at the confused face of the soldier. “What? You didn’t think I was going to get my head cracked open did you?” he laughed as he pushed the man forwards and watched as his sword was parried and he was knocked across the helmet as Visculus said “four-five” and quickly stepped back for the next man to step forwards. It took seconds for the four men to slice through the defenders, taking each man quickly as they struggled to deal with the sudden movement; one or two did manage to put up a stern fight, but the fresh attack of the four men moving quickly forwards placed a new threat in front of the man defending as soon as he had covered the thrust of the previous attack.

  “Good” said Narcius as he looked to Mella approvingly. “Remind me to ask for your opinion before my men spend an hour battering each other next time” he grinned.

  ****

  “Is that?” Marcus looked confused as he saw the horses walking towards him. He had set out for Rome with a handful of sturdy cavalrymen, each riding a strong horse with a spare in case they were needed. They were no more than two hours from Rome and ahead on the old salt road was a column of thirty of forty men, many in high quality armour and at their head a figure he knew well, Javenoli. A rider was cantering across towards them, his spear in the air to show he was carrying a message.

  Within minutes the rider had announced that Senator Javenoli and his men wished to know whom these riders heading for Rome were and what their business was. Marcus smiled at the words of his old friend and sent the rider back to say that it was a friend and they should stand to for Tribune Marcus Furius Camillus.

  “Marcus” called Javenoli, his heavy horse clearly struggling to carry the man’s weight and Javenoli clearly struggling to stay seated on the beast, as Marcus approached the thirty man column.

  “Senator” he replied jovially, stepping from his horse and walking across to the Senator. He looked up at the old man, the lines on his face much deeper than when he had last seen him and his forehead creased into an almost permanent frown. He clasped hands with Javenoli, who was struggling to get from his horse.

  “Stay seated my friend” Marcus added as he stretched his back, his face betraying the tightness he felt from hours of plodding on his mount. “We will be returning to Rome, and you must come with us” he said as Javenoli looked to him with a confused frown.

  “But” Javenoli said with a look of incredulity “Why? Has something happened? I was coming to Veii to lend my support” he said with a confused expression.

  “No, no Senator, nothing bad has happened. I will explain on the way. Come, let us turn and head back to the city. There is so much to tell you” he added as Javenoli smiled warmly at him.

  ****

  The crowds thronged the Temple as the leaders of Rome met to discuss the return of the Tribune to the city. People jostled and pushed to get closer to the steps of the temple but the mood was jovial apart from when a pickpocket was caught and soundly thrashed by three burly brothers whom he had tried to rob. In the noise and clamour of the crowd nobody took much notice of the brown-clad, dirty, soldier who had left his horse at the gates and run the last few hundred steps to the forum, his breathing laboured after hours in the saddle and the long run to the location of the meeting. He pushed his way through singing crowds, men discussing politics and women adorned with their best silver and gold jewellery who were idling along the ring of stalls in the forum.

  “Make way” he called, his voice only a creak above a hoarse whisper as he struggled to make headway through the crowd. “Make way for a messenger of Rome.” A few heads turned to him, some wrinkling their noses at the smell of ingrained sweat and horse that permeated the air around him. He almost fell as he stumbled into a thick set man, his brown and white clothing showing he was a baker, his face a mix of Greek and Roman with a white beard, neatly trimmed. The baker turned to the messenger and eyed him curiously before he gripped his shoulder and looked into the man’s eyes. “What news?” he asked urgently as a few other faces turned to the scene. The messenger, his own eyes tired and his breathing ragged replied “I have news for the Senate, a great army of the Etruscans” he said, his eyes wide with fear which was matched by the baker who simply gripped the man harder and turned to drag him forwards. “Clear the way” he screamed, his voice booming so loudly that people turned in fright at the sudden sound. “A messenger with terrible news” he called “make way.”

  People flocked to the sound, a cacophony of noise turning to silence momentarily before the crowd began to ask questions, some urgent and others mocking the messenger, but every voice asking what this terrible news was.

  “A great army is coming” called the baker “we must get to the Senate” he called as the crowd started to shift in front of him. “Clear the way. Make room” he shouted as he barged through the crowd, the exhausted messenger being dragged along behind him. At the steps to the temple the guards looked at the parting crowd in confusion as the noise grew to a crescendo of wails and calls for information, the crowd starting to get agitated at the sudden change in circumstances.

  “Hold there” called the guard raising his spear to block the approaching men’s path. “By what right do you wish to enter this building” he called, his trimmed beard showing yellowed teeth as he set his jaw firm and stared at the two men. The baker pulled the messenger forwards and placed him between himself and the guard, the messenger taking a moment to compose himself and look up into the confused face of the soldier.

  “I am Decimus Matrius, messenger from Napete” he said with a few glances around at the crowd. “I have news for the senate that I must convey to them urgently” he said more forcefully as the soldier narrowed his eyes at the small man in front of him.

  “Let him through” he said through gritted teeth, adding quickly “you can tell me the message away from this lot” he added with a stare at the baker who managed to hold his eyes for a second before shaking his head and crossing his arms in anger.

  The messenger was taken to the massive wooden doors to the temple, the thick wood carved with crude flowers and grapes, and the soldiers spent a few minutes listening to his tale before ushering him into the building. As they entered a number of heads turned to them questioningly before the guard took him across to the small table at the back of the room where two patricians sat with a series of wax tablets and vellum scrolls. After a moment one of the men began to write furiously onto the tablet, his eyes growing wide as the messenger relayed his information. Turning to a slave, his lithe, pale, frame almost invisible in the shadows beyond the sitting men he handed over the tablet and po
inted to the dais where the three leaders of the Senate were listening to the discussion regarding Veii.

  “The fact of the matter is clear” said Cicurinus, his eyes darting around the room. “If Camillus is correct, and I have no reason to disbelieve him, then the city will fall to us within a few days. For that I am sure we are all grateful” he added with a broad, if not convincing, smile. “I agree with my friends” he motioned to his right to the men who had been discussing the need to send more troops to support Veii “and agree that we need to send more of our stout Romans to finish off this threat from Veii. The sooner we send them, the better” he said as he sat down with a firm nod as a few cheers rang around the high ceiling of the temple. As the noise died down a few men stood, their heads circling the room as they wished to speak and tried to catch the eye of the leader of the meeting, whose face remained stern in the low light of the room.

  Before he could speak the slave edged forwards and handed the tablet across. Mugillanus took it with a frown and opened it to read the words within, his eyes growing wide as he took a moment to read the full details. A slow silence fell around the room as the Senators and leaders of the plebeian council alike turned to look at him, a few murmurs and frowning faces starting to look alarmed as the leader of the Senate looked to the dusty messenger and back to the writing on the tablet. He handed the tablet to Ahala, who was sitting next to him, his light brown eyes and lean face turning urgently to the words, his mouth opening as he read them.

  Mugillanus stood, his eyes glancing to Ahala and then to Marcus before he spoke. “We have a message from a friend at Napete” he called loudly as he waved an arm at the messenger. Everyone knew that Napete was an Etruscan town not far from Rome and a staunch ally of Veii. There had been rumours for months that the Etruscan council were gathering to send a force to Veii to annihilate the Roman camp, but so far no news had come and the Romans had largely ignored the possibility, believing that the Etruscans would be unable to attack if their largest city state, Veii, could not support them. Spies had been lodged in every city and now one of those men had appeared with this news. The audience fell into a stony silence.