The Fall of Veii- Part 2

by Francis Mulhern

  ****

  The priest turned to the king and held up the sliced heart and liver portions which remained. “The reading is clear” he said as he scanned the eyes of the men in the room. He raised his voice loudly as he spoke his next words. He turned and pointed the sacrificial knife to the entrails of the bull on the sacrificial stone. “Uni Teran offers her grace and service to whomever cuts the intestines of the bull and offers them in sacrifice to her. Whomever that shall be will be the victor of the coming battle” he said loudly, his face sincere despite the words being rehearsed since two days ago when the king had offered him the bribe.

  The king beamed, his face coming to life as he turned to step up the two steps to the stone altar before a sudden scream from the screens next to the old well caused him to jump back in shock, several loud gasps coming from the audience as the wooden screens were thrown to the floor and banged furiously with a loud clatter. Men ran at him, he grabbed the knife from the priest and ran to the altar gripping the entrails as a sword slashed across his arm and he screamed, the blade dropping to the floor as he felt his arm break and he tumbled to the side, the entrails falling on top of him.

  Marcus wasted no time in gripping the entrails that were still held in the useless fingers of the king as Narcius and his men sliced into the crowd, most of whom carried no weapons and were butchered as the sacrificial bull had been just moments before. The bloodletting was fast and furious as men streamed into the temple, the priests standing and staring at the scene with terror in their eyes. The king scrabbled across the floor and gripped the sacrificial knife in his left hand and tried to stand as Marcus kicked him in the face, his jaw cracking as his head thumped against the pillar behind him. Marcus held the entrails up to the faces of the few Etruscan leaders who remained alive surrounded by his men. He stepped over the king’s prone body and placed the entrails at the foot of wooden statue that had been draped in garlands of flowers and fruit for the ceremony and turned quickly to the priests. “Give me the robe” he said as the priest jerked at his clear Etruscan and pulled the robe from the kings limp body.

  “Holding the entrails at the foot of the statue Marcus took the iron knife and sliced them into sections as he said “Uni Teran, Juno, mother goddess. You have given us your blessing and agreed to follow your victorious soldiers to your new temple in Rome. I accept your words, victory is ours.” The priest stepped forwards and knelt, Marcus simply glanced to Narcius and nodded, ignoring the priests’ supplications. The temple was filling fast with Romans as thumps were heard on the door behind, the short lived commotion in the temple clearly causing anguish outside. Narcius nodded to the legionaries who held knives to the throats of the rich and each man was asked a simple question “slavery or death?”, those choosing death dying a quick and honourable death as the floor ran with blood.

  “You have your orders” Marcus said more loudly, breaking the silence as he noted the man who had dropped his helmet slice the throat of a noble who had chosen wisely. “We meet at the gate, go” he said as several men pulled at the doors and raced out at the wide-eyed guards who started to turn and run at the sight of Romans in their midst. “You” said Marcus as he pointed to the man who had dropped his helmet “name.”

  “Aebutius” the man said, his head lowering as he expected the worst.

  “Aebutius, you are with me and Narcius. Earn yourself our favour” he growled as the man looked up with hope in his eyes and Narcius growled at him.

  ****

  Marcus exited the temple to screams and the sound of running feet, his target was the south west wall from where he would attack the small group of soldiers who manned the left hand side of the gates before heading to the gates themselves. Mella and Caelio were heading directly to the square and then to hold the road to the gates as best they could and Manlius was taking the long route to the south east to come at the Etruscans from their left. Manlius had the trickiest attack as he needed to follow Mella into the square before disappearing across it and into the back streets before turning toward the gates.

  The roads were wide, clean and well kept and Marcus raced along unhampered by a shield but feeling naked without it. The men had been told to strike quickly and find weapons and shields as they went, but so far there had been no resistance and Marcus ran straight through two Etruscans who appeared from a side road, their faces falling as they suddenly saw a hundred men racing towards them. The first man had barely called an alarm before Narcius slit his throat at a run, the body spinning and falling as the blade slid through his neck, the second man simply falling open mouthed as two legionaries fell on him quickly. Screams came from behind them as they ran, then to the left as sounds of fighting broke out within the city. Marcus wondered if Potitus had heard them as he pumped his arms and thrust himself into a man who stepped from his house with a long curved blade, the metal clashing against Marcus’ own blade as he swung it at the approaching men. The curved blade was heavy and well struck but the momentum of the Roman forced the sword arm of the Etruscan back and Marcus thumped his elbow into the man’s face, wishing it was a shield which would have knocked him senseless. Without stopping, there was no time, he picked himself up and raced on noting that Aebutius had driven his sword through the man’s guts and was already two paces behind him.

  The walls approached at an alarming speed as Narcius raced round a bend and saw the foot of the wall at the end of a short, straight, wide street. Soldiers were moving to the left as he ran towards them, faces turning towards them at the sudden appearance of running men, some unsure who they were before they spotted the look of hatred and death in the Roman faces. Thirty paces, then twenty as the soldiers, thick shields and long spears, attempted to turn towards the attack from their left as they were marching to the gate, caught unawares by the Romans within their own walls. Marcus glanced to Narcius and both men grinned as they screamed death to the Etruscans.

  ****

  The legionary climbed out of the well and slipped on the blood soaked floor, his sword falling to the ground with a clatter as the soldiers coming from behind gave him a wide berth. Cursing he stood and looked around the temple, was there anything in here that could help Apuleius, his mind worked furiously as men streamed past him and ran off towards the doors, some slipping but no others falling as he had done. He ran away towards the carcass of a bull, the thick blood caught in the gutters of the floor where it had been slain, the sluice holes in the floor testament to its sacrificial usage. He glanced quickly around knowing he would only have seconds before someone called him into the attack, but it took only those seconds for his eyes to fall on the throne and on it lay a red cloak flecked with gold thread, the kings robe, and a long sceptre with an orb and an eagle on the top gilded in gold as they said the old sceptre of King Romulus had been decorated at the founding of Rome. He ran across and quickly stuffed the robe into his tunic his grin splitting his face as he looked at the sceptre but disregarded it, it would be too difficult to hide. He turned and ran outside noisily and prayed that he would survive long enough to get it back to the man who would set him and his wife up with a life of luxury for this.

  ****

  Marcus was thrust forward by the press of men behind him, slipping on the flagstones as he narrowly avoided a lunge by an Etruscan who screamed curses at him before his face was thrown back by a stabbing spear from behind Marcus, the Roman who had thrust the spear letting it go as he switched to his sword and screamed death to the Etruscans. On his left Marcus saw the line of men splitting as the leading edge of the men carried on towards the gates and others turned to face the new threat from the Romans at their rear. Another spear thrust at him from the front and Marcus ducked and gripped the shield of the prone man who had a short thrusting spear sticking out of his face.

  Aebutius suddenly gripped his shoulder and pushed him lower as a spear raked along his back and across the man’s thigh before he stabbed his sword into the guts of the attacker, wrenching it clear as he hopped back and swore loudly
. Marcus gripped the shield and pulled it clear, instantly feeling safer as he saw other men doing the same thing. Aebutius was next to him, his leg bleeding but clearly not causing any problems, Marcus muttered thanks as he thumped his shield into a spear that was jabbed at him, the clunk leading him to roll his left shoulder and lean to the right to open the man up to a quick stabbing movement. The Etruscan dived forwards at the strike and Marcus missed him entirely, his mind applauding the move despite the fact that he hadn’t killed his man. He stepped back quickly as a shield clashed against his from the right, the shield wall staring to grow. Aebutius had disappeared but Marcus didn’t have time to consider this as the attacker thrust again, his white teeth showing through his brown beard as he yelled for more men. Their leader Marcus thought that’s why he was so good.

  As Marcus stepped forwards the man disappeared into the background, more spears falling in front of him as he grinned at Marcus and winked, the movement causing Marcus to frown before he ducked another strike which was thrust at the shield wall. The men had come to a standstill, the road lined with shields from the Roman end and spears and shields from the Etruscans. Narcius called for the men to step back, the call instantly responded to by the trained soldiers as they all took one step backwards and the Etruscans, pressed from behind, stumbled against their shields allowing the shield wall to open and several faces to gasp as swords ran them through and the Romans pressed forwards again. Marcus stabbed down at the heart of a man who was still alive but had a gaping wound in his stomach, his bared teeth and whistling breath disappearing as he stepped over his dead body and pressed on.

  Narcius called the beat and the men responded, press, release and stab. A few Romans fell as the quick learners in the Etruscan lines understood the movement and managed to catch a slow legionary. Inexorably the Roman line butchered its way along the street and the Etruscans began to thin out.

  A scream from above made Marcus flinch as a man fell from the wall, an arrow in his chest as his body impaled on the spears of two Etruscans in the back line, the winking leader knocked to the floor by the suddenness of the action. “Charge” Marcus shouted as he heaved into the press of men in front of him to take full advantage of this gift from the gods. The Romans took moments to slice through the Etruscans, the rear line running and the middle falling over the prone bodies that lay across the street.

  As the Etruscans raced away Marcus called to Narcius and the two men took a moment to look around them. Behind them were streets filled with the eight man groups of Romans he had set out into the city to kill any one and draw the defenders out of the city square. Men of the city were falling even as he watched, doors slamming shut as the Romans killed anyone who stood in their way. With him and Narcius were seventy or eighty men, all blooded and ready to charge into battle.

  “We must get to the gate” Marcus said as he turned to the fleeing enemy. He knew the gate was little more than two hundred yards along the road and around the next corner, but he also knew that by the time they got to the gates the road would be awash with men. “We need more men” he said as Narcius nodded and turned to a man next to him. “Round up as many of the maniples as you can and send them along here” he said quickly as the man turned and ran into the street behind them.

  “We go at a steady walk and we hold our line” Marcus said as they set their shields forwards, the rag tag of different shapes and sizes not creating the shield wall that they were used to but adequate under the circumstances. Another man fell from the walls ahead of them as Marcus raised his eyes upwards, Potitus was starting the real offensive, he had clearly heard the screams from within the city and knew that the walls were now vulnerable. The road was empty now, doors closed and windows barred along the wide street. It was unnerving. Screams, the sounds of fighting and the clatter of men running sounded all around them, yet ahead of them was silence. They approached the left turn which led at an angle to the main gates and Marcus stopped the line of men and bent low to peer around the corner, whipping his head back just in case a sword might strike at him, but what he saw made him return his head to the street without fear. Narcius appeared next to him.

  The road in front of him was filled with people, citizens all screaming as they hurried towards the gates, the soldiers being jostled as they tried in vain to hold back the tide of women, young children and old men. Panic had hit Veii and Marcus turned to Narcius and grinned back at his smiling face. To his right the narrow road along the wall was empty, a dog barking from its chained position on the wall the only living thing he could see or hear.

  He breathed slowly and turned to Narcius. “If we charge into the rear of that lot they will turn and run up the roads to the left back towards the square” he said as he pictured the roads and streets on the map of the city.

  “The soldiers will kill them all” Narcius replied “and save us a job” he shrugged.

  Marcus noted several groups of men arriving behind him, the call for support clearly being responded to.

  “Then we stick to our orders. We reach the gates through those people” he said “but we will need to make as much noise as possible to cause the maximum panic” he stated coldly as he looked at the men behind him and nodded to the closest faces. “Victory is there men” he said pointing his sword. “We must get to the gates. Riches and glory are in our grasp” he yelled as the men leered hungrily at him. “Let’s go” he shouted as they rounded the corner and lined up before they clattered their swords on the shields they held, the noise reverberating off the walls of the buildings around them.

  The people at the back of the crowd trying to get to the gates turned and screamed before they started a frenzied push at the soldiers blocking the road in front of them, blood spraying into the air as they tried in vain to escape the Romans as they approached the rear. Marcus grinned as the first men and women turned and fled down the alleyways to their left, the tide of people suddenly rushing turning into a stampede. As the final citizens disengaged from the soldiers Marcus lowered his body and glanced to Narcius, nodding as both men screamed the charge and the Romans picked up their pace to a run at the line of Etruscan spears across the road which led to the small piazza by the gate.

  The press of men was lung busting, the squeeze of bodies getting tighter and tighter as both sets of soldiers leant into their shields. Marcus grinned at Narcius as both men took deep breathes and screamed ‘release’, the men behind suddenly stepping backwards a moment before Marcus and Narcius, along with the front line of Romans, did the same, instantly pivoting and slicing their swords into the Etruscan front line as the men behind pushed them forwards.

  Blood spattered into Marcus’ eyes as his sword bit into the shoulder of the man in front of him, his body twisting at the energy behind the thrust. Dragging his arm back he managed a second thrust into the man’s ribs, the familiar crunch of bones and jerk of his head telling Marcus that the man was dead before his body crumpled to the floor and another Etruscan was pushed over his dead body, a short sword instantly stabbing through his exposed back as he stumbled. Marcus put his foot on the dead man’s back and leant into the gap that had appeared before him, a spear glancing across his helmet as the defender to his left tried to wield his weapon at him in the confined space. He managed to get the point of his sword into the thick soft muscle of a thigh before he stood back and felt his shield clatter against the soldier next to him as he rolled his shoulder, feeling the muscle ache but knowing that he was still far from tiring. He didn’t have time to relax as a spear shaved the top of his shield, the eyes of the attacker filled with hate as he lunged at him. Marcus needed to know what was happening beyond this line of defence and his attention was distracted as the man lunged again, his shield lifting the spear attack up as he stepped forward, followed by all the men along the line. The attacker froze as his face came almost within a hands width of Marcus and his mouth gaped as Marcus thrust his short sword through the gap between their shields, his eyes already searching beyond the dying face of th
e Etruscan as his hand mechanically twisted the sword through his guts. A warm red pool fell to the floor but the man’s body was trapped by the press from behind as Marcus continued to scour the scene, the curses from the Etruscan dying in his ears.

  “We are nearly there” he called as a cheer came from behind him and the men pressed harder, Marcus struggling to release his sword as it was lodged in the guts of the dead Etruscan. He grunted and took short, sharp, breaths as he felt the heat of the bodies around him and tried to remove the sword, but he couldn’t move his elbow due to the press of men. Fifty yards ahead was the gate, but the road was thick with people. Soldiers, citizens, Roman attackers and even a horse, its legs kicking wildly at anyone who got too close. The noise was horrendous and Marcus knew that they had come to a standstill. He needed to do something, and quick, or the attack would stall. He looked up and saw fighting on the walls and he cheered, his cheering causing others to look up at the Romans who were fighting for their lives against the Etruscan defenders above them.

  “We have the walls” he screamed, knowing full well that this was not the case, but anything he could do to dampen the spirits of the defenders was worth a try. He called again. “We have the wall men, Rome will win” and he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as he gasped at the point of a spear that had been thrust through the arm of the dead man who lay against him and into his shoulder. He screamed at the dead face, which seemed to mock him as the spear was thrust harder from behind. The spear had gone through Marcus’ shoulder guard but was angled upwards so had missed the bone, tearing into the soft flesh on the outside of the muscle. He clenched his fingers and was relieved that he still had full control of his sword arm as he snarled back into the line of men in front of him. He looked to Narcius, who grunted as he pushed but his body didn’t move.