“Go now and you will be there by first light” Apuleius said as the face of the man he had chosen for the task looked down at him from his horse. “That fool Manlius left this morning, if you are quick you can find a place in his guard and seek out what I need” he said as he turned to the woman beside him, her deep blue shawl stretched over her head as she stood looking at her husband, his pock-marked face half visible under his hood. “Nobody will know that you didn’t set off with them.”
“The money?” the woman said, her face hard as she turned to Apuleius. Her brown eyes looked harshly at him as he lifted a heavy bag from his cloak and placed it in her outstretched palm.
“The rest when you bring me something I can use” he said as he looked to the woman and then the man.
“Go husband and come back safe” she said with an affectionate touch to his arm as he nodded grimly and kicked the horse into motion, the beast flicking its head as it stretched its legs and trotted away.
“And don’t lose my damned horse” Apuleius said as he watched the man head off towards the salt road which led away from the Tiber and towards Veii, his shield and sword slung across his back. The woman turned back to Apuleius and tossed the coin bag up and down in her hands before she licked her lips slowly and raised her eyebrows seductively.
“Well I have an empty house and enough money to buy a large flask of wine” she said as she stepped closer to Apuleius, whose eyes held hers in a firm gaze as her head tilted to one side and she parted her lips. Apuleius glanced to her ample breasts and wide hips which were hidden under the thick stola and travelling cloak and nodded approvingly to himself.
“It would be a shame to drink alone” he said slowly as he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and looked deeply into her alluring face. “Of course discretion is called for and I will be maybe a hundred steps behind you, so leave the door loose” he said as he touched her shoulder with his hand and drew his finger down onto her breasts before stepping aside to allow her to walk in front of him. His plan was coming together. The fool patrician would be brought down and he would be the man to do it. He watched the sway of the woman’s hips as she wandered away and his heart beat a little faster at the thought of what they would do later that night, but he also felt it quicken at the thought of outdoing the great Camillus.
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Chapter 21
Dawn had come with a slight drizzle, the cool air and breezy conditions not perfect for his attack but also not bad enough to make him change any of his plans. The briefing the previous night had been a long process as he drew out the attack plan, choosing officers for each element and asking them to repeat the orders so that he knew they understood him. At one point he had been surprised to hear that Marcus Manlius had arrived at the camp with over a hundred armed men, all ready to fight for Rome and all of good fighting age, the last straggler arriving an hour behind the others but clearly young and strong from working his farmland. Marcus had been wary of Manlius at first. They had not been on speaking terms since the discussion regarding the incident with Postumius and his brother Aulus, yet Manlius pledged his loyalty to Rome and to the Dictator and asked to be in the leading men who stormed the city.
It had taken some time to get Manlius up to speed with the attack, the news of the tunnels bringing a wide eyed stare as he listened to the plan and nodded wisely, his mind running through the plan as it unfolded. The meeting had stretched into the night and plans were refined as Marcus made sure the officers drank only heavily watered wine and ate only bread, olives and cheese under the flame of the candle to Mars. He had been fastidious in this ritual for some years now after reading of the successes gained by Greek soldiers who ate and drank only light meals on the night before a battle, their prayers to the gods acting as the food they needed to smite their enemies.
In the light drizzle Marcus donned a thick cloak and stepped across from the square guard hut to the wall, striding up the earth bank and onto the short ladder to the parapet. He listened to the silence that the rain was bringing to the morning, the air heavy with slow falling sheets of drizzle. Ahead lay the tall walls, unscalable and austere, the helmeted heads of soldiers standing guard were visible at set distances along the expanse of stone, the odd spear moved along from right to left as he watched the slow procession of the disembodied weapons. Would today be the day? He felt his heart quicken at the thought but he held himself in check as he watched the spears move back from left to right. The feint of an attack had to appear to be a full assault and the officers had discussed various ways in which this could be done without too much loss of life yet allow the men in the tunnels to embark on their attack without being noticed by the Etruscans. Marcus felt heartened by the words of his men, they were clear that the Etruscans had no idea how many men had arrived from Rome. Potitus had allowed a small band of escapees from Napete to get into the city, maybe twenty men at most and Marcus was thankful for the news, the Etruscans must know that their support had been wiped out to spread fear into the city and help the Roman cause.
As he stood and looked out at the walls Scipio appeared at his side and nodded, his unshaven face and tired eyes testament that he had only just risen from his bed. “Any changes?” he asked as he turned his face to the walls.
“None.”
“They must know that our camp is bursting with men” Scipio said. It was true. The arrival of so many new soldiers at the Roman siege works had created an enormous logistical issue with new tents, new fires and latrine ditches creating a flurry of activity which the Etruscans could not help but notice.
“If the soldiers who escaped Napete are telling tales of woe as I hope they are then the city will be in turmoil. The King will be getting his advisers together and they will be working on a plan to hold us at the walls, assuming that they don’t know about the tunnels.” Marcus had woken from a dream in which he was running through an endless tunnel before the roof collapsed on him and his sword was knocked from his hand as thousands of screaming Veientines charged at him. He knew it was just his fears finding a way to express themselves, but it still nagged at his mind. Was it a sign from Juno to call off the attack?
“They will man the walls as we expect and we will win this day” Scipio said with assurance as he placed his hands on the top of the wooden wall in front of him and leant over to look down into the space below him. “The ground isn’t too soft, we will be able to march without a problem” he said. As he spoke the rain eased as a bright spot appeared in the heavens above them, the yellow-white spot of the sun attempting to break through the clouds.
Marcus grinned, a sign? He and Scipio both noted the change in weather and nodded as Marcus spoke. “We will set the men out as planned in two hours” he glanced to the sky “when the cloud breaks. The ceremonies will be observed and the screens taken to the rampart” at which he motioned towards the long ramp that stretched from the foot of the Roman camp to within ten paces of the walls of Veii, the engineers had worked hard to get as close as they could to the walls. Wooden planks and screens would be marched up the ramp and thrown over the walls under the covering fire of the scorpions as a part of the feint, men ready below to march when the planks were in place. It had to look like a real attack and Fuscus had volunteered to lead this part of the plan with Potitus leading the main army outside the city while Marcus entered through the well into the temple within.
Scipio was following the plan in his head. Potitus holding the central lines of men with Fuscus attacking along the ramp, Fasculus and Vulso holding the flanks and Scipio with the horse on the right. Marcus would lead the attack into the tunnels with Narcius, Caelio, Mella and Manlius. Quintus Fabius had also asked to join the attack in the tunnels but Marcus had refused his request.
Scipio looked at Marcus, his red cloak dank with rain, his face drawn at the cheeks behind his trimmed, dark, beard. The boy he had known was gone, the man standing next to him was so different from the person h
e had known; carefree; questioning; learning. The man standing beside him was driven by the passion to see Rome destroy every enemy before them and particularly to smash Veii. It was consuming his every waking hour and his pinched face and the gaunt look in his eyes told of the hardships war had brought to him. Scipio thought of the family members and children they had lost and the effect it had had on them both, their knowledge that life was short and the unexpected nature of sudden death bringing them closer together, yet somehow distant at the same time.
Marcus grunted and turned his head slightly as music floated over the walls, the unmistakable sound of flutes and drums. “A ceremony?” he said quietly as he frowned and turned his head to Scipio, who simply shook his head in response.
****
The King held his arms out as a slave draped the cloth around him, the elegant folds of the heavy cloth lying lightly across his shoulders.
“The bull is being prepared, your majesty and the oils are ready in the temple. It will be another half hour before the preparations are complete” his aide said, his voice dripping with servility.
Vanimus, the King of Veii stared at the wall, his anger still unabated despite the long discussion he had held with all his military advisers with regard to the sudden appearance of more Romans at his walls and the terrible stories that the men who had escaped from Napete brought to him. He shouldn’t have drank so much either, he said to himself as he felt the acid in his stomach and the need to suddenly relieve himself.
“Wait” he commanded as he headed to the wooden structure at the corner of the room which held a hole in which he could do his ablutions. Momentarily he returned, his face wincing at the acid which remained in his stomach and throat. He sipped small amounts of water and held his eyes closed for a minute before he resumed the standing position and the slave continued to dress him.
“Any change in the Roman camp?” he asked.
“Not yet, Sire.”
“Good. Send the priests to me I need to speak to them” he said. He had decided that the best way to reassure the people of Veii that their goddess still supported them was to hold a ceremony and get her to swear allegiance to the city. Since the damned Romans had held their ceremony at his walls and commanded Uni Teran, whom the Romans called Juno or Mater Matuta, to leave the city his people had been in uproar. How had the Romans managed to lower the water of the lake and spread even more of their diseased fears into his city? He shook his head angrily at the thought. This Camillus was clever. He had somehow stopped the flow of food and weapons into his city as well as caused his people to fear that the gods were losing the love of their city. Slavery, that was their biggest fear, not death at the hands of the Romans, slavery. The women filled the temples and begged their gods to keep them free and save them from slavery, to save their children from being made the puppets of the Romans. He cursed silently as the slave continued his work.
Since the news of the loss of their army at Napete, he cursed again at the thought of such loss, the cries for surrender and for proof that the gods still loved them above all others had risen. Every day some fool came to him decrying the Romans and asking the King to save his family. He dismissed them all. Yet now he had to prove to them that the city was still safe, and the only way to do that was to hold the ceremony and call on Uni Teran to confirm her love for them all. As he continued to consider the conversation of the previous evening he heard the door behind him and smelt the wood smoked air of the priests clothing come to his nostrils before he heard the words of the chief priest speak.
“Sire, we came as you bid” his annoyingly sing song voice said. Vanimus closed his eyes before he turned and looked at the leader of the priests of Uni Teran, his dark hair flowing beyond his shoulders and beard cut square three inches below his chin, as all the priests of the goddess did. Two other priests stood behind him, each with similar facial features behind their long hair and square trimmed beards, which made their eyes seem all the more prominently framed. One man had spots of blood on his left sleeve where he had been conducting sacrifices earlier that morning and Vanimus noted with satisfaction that the man looked immaculate apart from those small blemishes, as any priest should he said to himself.
“Take a seat” he motioned to a low table to their right “and I will be with you momentarily” he added as the slave busily finished the final elements of his clothing and stood back and bowed deeply to the King.
As the king sat he looked at the priests, their calm faces looking straight ahead, none of their eyes looking directly to him. As he sat silently the door opened and in walked his chief adviser, the old soothsayer Galminius, his white beard held with the gold thread across the middle and his dark eyes firm and confident.
“About time” he chided as Galminius bowed and stood by his right shoulder. Taking a slow breath he turned to the chief priest. “What of the auguries say?” he asked, his eyes flicking to the spots of blood on the sleeve of the priest to the man’s left.
The chief priest intoned steadily “the augurs show that the Romans will battle but the outcome is not yet decided. The bull...” As he spoke Galminius spoke over the priest.
“The auguries were conducted with the correct procedures?” he asked forcefully.
Unperturbed the chief priest, his eyes steady as he gazed across the room, continued. “Having followed the correct procedures to the letter the reading is clear. The decision of the gods lies in the ceremony of the bull. its death alone will decide the fate of the coming war, whoever.....”
Galminius spoke again, the voice of the chief priest falling silent, though a flicker of his eyes told Vanimus that he was angry at being interrupted for the second time. “The preparations of the bull? Has it been cleaned as the Disciplina requires, its tongue scrubbed?” he asked as the priest nodded and replied “yes.”
“It has only eaten the sacred grain since being chosen?”
“Yes”
“And the oil rubbed into its skin?”
For the first time the priest sounded annoyed at the questioning. “Of course, as the letters of the Etrusca Disciplina demand.” He fell silent again.
“Continue” the King said.
“The priests have communed with Uni Teran” at which all three men touched their hearts and bowed their heads in unison before the priest continued “and the readings are clear. The entrails of the sacrificial bull will tell us who will win this battle.”
The king glanced to Galminius, who was gazing at the chief priest but seemed satisfied with his answers. “Good. Then you may go. The sacrifice will be completed at the time allotted. You have the knife?” he asked as the three priest made to move.
“The blade has been sharpened and the oils from the goddesses statue rubbed into the iron exactly as the Disciplina requires” his eyes flicked angrily to Galminius who simply stared into the distance as if he was not there.
“Good. I must prepare.”
The priests stood, bowed and left. The king turned to Galminius. “I don’t want any mistakes” he hissed.
“He has played his part well, the others do not know that he is following your orders, Sire” he stated. “The entrails of the bull will be given as the offering to goddess in front of all the leaders as you have planned. When they see that you hold the entrails as the symbol of the goddesses’ love they will know that Uni Teran has no love of the Romans and covets this city and you as her king” he stated with a confidence which encouraged Vanimus.
“Good” he said quietly. “And the priest, is he happy to do this trickery?” He asked.
“All priests know what is good for them your majesty” bowed the soothsayer as the King nodded and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.
“Then I must prepare” Vanimus said with a grin. The Romans would not take his city today and the people would receive a message from the gods which would stop all this fear and complaining that was causing him endless sleepless nights. Life would return to normal and he felt a calmness coming over him as he stret
ched his back and felt the twinge of acid in his stomach once again.
****
The door burst open as Fabius launched himself into the room, his breathing hard and ragged as he stared at the officers sat around the table with Marcus. The optio barged in behind him and gripped his shoulder aggressively, his face a mask of anger that the man had managed to slip past him in the corridor outside.
“Dictator” he said, his face a mask of frustration. “Tell this man to unhand me, I have vital news of Veii” he said loudly as he bridled at the Optio, both men standing chest to chest and staring into each others’ faces.
Marcus waved a hand to the Optio, who bit his lip before he closed the door leaving Fabius standing triumphantly within the room. “This had better be good” Marcus said as he sat back, the faces of several men turning to the younger man, his chest still rising and falling at the run he had taken to reach the officers briefing. He held up a palm and gritted his teeth as if what he might say would cause some anger amongst the officers. “I” he started, his eyes darting around the men and falling onto Marcus as they widened and he sucked in a breath. “I have been along the tunnel to the well” he said as several of the officers stood, the sudden noise of chairs scraping on wood and a few angry expletives causing Fabius to hold both hands out in front of him “wait, wait” he said as his eyes scanned the faces of the men. Only Narcius, Mella and Caelio sat still, the rest of the officers angrily standing and staring at Fabius.
The Fall of Veii- Part 2 Page 27
