Dawn of The Eagle

by Francis Mulhern

  Marcus and Quintus set off at a steady walk, still discussing how to make heavy horses more effective against the long iron tipped spears of a dense phalanx of soldiers, when Quintus stopped suddenly and grasped Marcus’s cloak, pulling him abruptly to a halt.

  “No” he said staring open mouthed into the distance. Marcus barely had time to look to Quintus when the legionary, who had dutifully followed them, gasped loudly and started muttering, fumbling urgently at a chain around his neck, finally pulling a wooden amulet from under his tunic and kissing it repeatedly. Marcus scanned the skies and looked to the windows of the houses that surrounded them.

  “What is it” he asked, his eyes darting from place to place and seeing nothing but the half shadows of the late morning and the empty streets of the city.

  “We must tell the commander Marcus, we must hurry!” Quintus exclaimed pulling at Marcus as he strode out as if the hounds of hell were after him.

  “What is it?” Marcus asked again more urgently as he stumbled along in the grip of his friend.

  “There it is again” said the legionary from behind them in a frightened voice his arm outstretched “by the house with the rabbits hanging outside”, pointed a long finger at a small dwelling to their right where Marcus saw a small owl silently glide across the front of the house. An owl, he thought. A portent of disaster. Now he understood why his friend and the legionary were acting so strangely. It was said that the gods sent owls to warn their people of a pending disaster and history was full of times when an owl had preceded great losses in war as well as the death of kings. Marcus looked again, but the bird had flown on and was lost to his sight. He wondered whether the rabbits, hanging overnight to improve their flesh before eating, could have something to do with the bird being in the city looking for food but quickly put this thought from his mind as he was dragged around a corner into the city square.

  Quintus released his grip on Marcus’s cloak and marched across the square intent on delivering his message to Lucius as soon as he could. Marcus looked back over his shoulder towards the house, but there was no sign of the bird and no other people stirred in the lazy, cool morning. In fact, he thought, the city was surprisingly quiet. He wondered what message the owl was giving, and whether the surreal stillness had been orchestrated by the gods as Quintus and the legionary believed, and so turned to hurry after the legionary, who had now outpaced him and Quintus who was almost running into the command centre having pulled his cloak tight around him.

  Marcus entered the room where Lucius and his chief staff were all staring agog at Quintus.

  “Marcus saw it too, didn’t you” called the wide-eyed face of Quintus, who had clearly informed the assembled men of the portent he had seen. All heads turned to him as Marcus came to a stop just inside the doorway and felt the nervous looks of all the soldiers upon him. Many had taken small amulets, lucky rings or special tokens from their secret hiding places and kissed them, muttering some prayer or other to avert the evil eye or to appease the gods. Marcus faltered for a moment before Quintus continued “it is disaster, it has to be” he almost wailed appealing to the men around him for some form of comfort and setting off a series of further shuffling and muttering from the men. Marcus was annoyed with his friend for his outburst and the way a Roman Patrician was dealing with the portent, if that is what it was.

  “Quintus is correct” said Marcus, his voice strong and measured as he looked to his brother, whose face was stony and unemotional. “An owl was seen flying across the city from the right to the left.” He stepped forwards moving closer to the front of the room to stand next to his brother, who nodded slightly as he did so. “But we must be sure what it means, and what portent it brings before we act, to act with impulse will be unwise and to not act at all will anger the gods. We must understand the message” he added as he came to stand next to Lucius and turned to face the room. “Agreed” said Lucius with such strength that everyone suddenly stopped muttering and stood in silence. The silence stretched and Marcus noticed that his brother was using the silence to gain control of the men as he walked slowly around the room patting the shoulder of a Centurion here, nodding to another there.

  “Quintus, fetch Antonicus” he said as he reached the doorway from which Marcus had arrived, clearly wanting to get the blathering man out of the way.

  “I called you all here to give you some news, but it seems the owl has beaten me to it” he said glancing at Quintus as he shuffled from the room on his errand. He held up a small sealed scroll, thick with dirt and torn across the middle. Marcus thought he saw blood spattered across the scroll as Lucius unfolded it and read the report;

  Lucius Furius Medullinus, if you receive this message you will know that the relief force led by Cornelius Scipio is besieged at the cross roads of the three hills by a force of 20,000 Aequii. Losses are high and your immediate assistance is required.

  Gasps emanated from around the room as Lucius looked up from reading momentarily before continuing,

  A marching camp is set but baggage and food mules have been taken. We have no more than two days provisions and General Scipio has been wounded. The messenger will scout the area to ascertain the best approach and enemy positions before continuing to Avaenti in the hope that this information will support your plans. A. Reginus Baccuito, first centurion.

  “The man who brought this scroll to us died of his wounds shortly after he arrived” Lucius said as he motioned the men to sit and moved back towards the front of the room. “But he had time to tell us that the Aequii have set small forces at all road junctions and are constantly attacking the camp from all four sides. We will need to send scouts out immediately” he looked around the faces staring at him.

  “Fulvius, can you ensure we have six scouts and a relay chain set on the road so that we are in constant contact with the farthest scout. And get Decimus and all other scouts that are out back as quickly as you can. Go now and return here for further orders as soon as it is done” he added. At this Fulvius rose, saluted and left the room.

  “Magnus” he added without looking up from the scroll “prepare the city watch to hold the city whilst we are away, but enlist all the best men to form a new cohort. If they don’t have their own spear, find them one” he added. “All senior officers to be back here in one hour with march reports, I expect every available man to be in full kit and ready to leave before first light.” He stood and looked to the men facing him, “Licinius Cossus” he said looking to a thick-set, dark haired brute of a man standing at the back of the room, “Scipio is your kinsman so your cohorts will lead the march” he added as Cossus nodded, his face set in a grimace. “Send your skirmishers ahead tonight to check the roads and ensure you and Fulvius work together to keep the communication lines open”.

  “Sir” saluted Cossus, a half-smile creeping across his face at the prospect of leading the army to support his cousin. Lucius dismissed the men and called his optio to collect as many maps of the area surrounding the three hills crossroads as he could, he knew that in the next few hours all the senior staff must know every hillock, lump and bump of the area, it would be vital to plan their approach and battle plan against the larger Aequian force.

  Chapter 10

  Marcus had remained in the room as everyone filed out to complete their orders and he stood silently as his brother shifted scrolls and wax tablets across the large campaign table. “You will stay here with the garrison” Lucius said, not looking up from his papers.

  “No, brother!” exclaimed Marcus. “I want to be with the legions. My place is with them” he said stepping closer to Lucius and standing as tall as he could. “I am ready to fight” he added, but his voice faltered as his brother looked up at him.

  “No. You will stay here where it is safe. You are too young to be in the fighting and it would be madness to think anything else.” He peered back at the map and reached for another from the box below the table, almost ignoring Marcus’s presence.

  “But Lucius” ple
aded Marcus his voice rising as he stepped up to the campaign table, “I have proven my worth. Did I not fight well at the cave? Did I not see the movement that caught the Gaul’s in their tracks at Mount Algidus? Have I not shown I am skilled in helping the soldiers? Brother” he implored, bending forward and placing both hands on the table “Am I not the lucky talisman of the men?”

  Lucius shot him a dark glance. “Yes brother, you have been lucky, but do not underestimate the situation. You are too young to be in this battle and that is that” he added turning, picking up a box of scrolls and ruffling through them without looking up at Marcus once. “Luck may be your friend today, but tomorrow she may turn against you, luck is a fickle thing. You must be careful that your hubris does not overstretch itself Marcus. You are a young man who may have a great future, but that future will not include fighting this fight, it is too dangerous for a boy. If I could send you back to Rome safely I would do it now, but you will stay here until I send for you when this is done”.

  Marcus was stunned. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest as a thousand retorts filled his mind, but he knew his brother would not bend. He stood, chest rising rapidly as he tried to calm his nerves, watching his brother finish placing scrolls and maps on the campaign table in front of him, using goblets and heavy stones carved with leaping horses to hold them in place.

  “May I attend the planning meeting” he asked, more meekly than he intended, raising his voice slightly to add “it will help with my education”.

  “Of course” said Lucius, finally stepping away from the table and moving around to stand in front of Marcus. “Look, the odds as against us. The enemy have nearly twice our strength, they have the advantage of setting traps and pickets against us as we approach the crossroads. We do not even know if Scipio and his soldiers remain alive.” He grasped Marcus’s shoulders as he spoke, looking deep into his eyes. “You are my blood and I must protect you. Father would strip me bare and kick me to the lake and back if I got you killed” he added half-grinning as he spoke, his eyes suddenly soft as he looked into Marcus’s defiant face. “You know I cannot let you join the men this time.” He waved away Marcus’s pleading eyes and turned back to his scrolls “come back in one hour when the officers return and see what you can learn, but do not prepare to march, you will be staying here”.

  Chapter 11

  “Go now Mella, and return as I bid” said Marcus as he closed the door to his room behind him and marched across the square to meet with the senior officers. Mella collected the small bundle of papers and coins Marcus had given him and, grumbling, set off in the opposite direction, his feet kicking up small clouds of dust as he did so.

  As Marcus entered the room a number of eyes looked up to see him, some nodding recognition and others simply turning back to their leader to await his words. Marcus moved to the back of the room where Senator Javenoli was beckoning him to come and sit next to him.

  “Here lad” he whispered, waving to an empty seat and patting Marcus on the arm as he sat down. “You’ve missed nothing yet, he’s waiting for Fulvius and Decimus. Yes he got back just five minutes ago” Javenoli added at Marcus’s questioning look, “his scouting party lost a horse so were delayed. You could call it lucky that he was as close as he was” he continued in his quiet whisper, wiping his wet lips as he placed his goblet of deep red wine on the small table to his side. Up close Marcus noticed that Javenoli was adding notes from the meeting to a small wax tablet on his lap and his face gave away the questions he was going to ask.

  “My mind is not what it used to be Marcus” he said leaning across and handing the tablet to Marcus. “To keep up with the planning and to make sure I can add my experience when needed I need to write down the details and think them through. Old age and too many blows to the head from too many fights I am afraid” he said tapping his forehead with a bejewelled finger, his friendly eyes looking far away as he spoke with a half-smile on his flabby, vein etched, jowls.

  “I can help” Marcus said in a low voice, “I can take notes for you”.

  “Would you?” asked Javenoli with a beaming smile as he picked up his goblet and turned as the door opened and Fulvius marched in, closely followed by Decimus. “Thank you Marcus” the senator whispered as they both turned to see Lucius stand from his position at the head of the campaign table ready to start the meeting as he lit the ceremonial candle.

  “Gentlemen” Lucius swept his arm around the room “we are all that stands between annihilation of eight thousand Roman citizen soldiers”. He paused to look to each of his officers. “We are the representatives of Rome, the greatest city and the greatest people in the world”. He pointed to the legion standard held by the standard bearer to his left, “the gods ordained that Rome will be triumphant over all our foes, and we will add another great victory to the roll call of her successes. You have seen the maps, you have discussed your troops strengths and you have seen the reports on the enemy’s soldiers and tactics. What we decide now will put our names in history. Rome will prevail. Rome will win glory. We will give the senate and people of Rome victory”.

  Marcus was captivated by the strength of his brother’s words and noticed that all the officers were staring intently at Lucius waiting for him to continue. “Report your strengths” Lucius added looking to his Optio who was holding a large tablet in his hand on which to capture the numbers.

  “Get them for me Marcus will you” whispered Javenoli as Marcus fumbled and dropped the stylus before picking it up again and writing down the numbers and make-up of the troops as they were relayed to the audience. Javenoli took some time to review the troop quotas as the officers sat around the maps pointing to small hills and debating movements of troops on the maps. Lucius placed coloured counters where the officers thought enemy positions would be strongest and they discussed how best to counter-attack. At length a plan began to form, with Javenoli using Marcus’s notes and long discussions on the terrain and tactics employed by Comus and his men to help the final battle plan come together. As the officers drank wine and ate flatbread inused with olives and ham, they reviewed the plan and finalised any last-minute changes. Marcus was drunk on the tactics, the planning, the counter-planning and the choices of troop, placement and leadership. He turned to see Javenoli had risen from his seat.

  “Gentlemen I leave you to your final hours of planning, go with my wishes for good fortune in the days that follow, I wish my years were less and I could join you” he said with heavy lidded eyes. Marcus watched as many of the men thanked Javenoli as he left the room and he wished his personal favourites a safe passage through the next few days of war, spending a few minutes talking closely with Lucius and clasping forearms before he left with a final wave to the room.

  “He’s some man that Javenoli” said Decimus who had taken the vacated seat next to Marcus. “Thirty years a warrior, consul twice and as fine a magistrate as you could ever see”, he drank from his cup and turned to Marcus.

  “Your brother is right, you cannot go tomorrow. You know that?” he asked without looking at Marcus and placing his feet on the chair opposite as he rubbed the small of his back. “Damned horses” he added taking another long drink from his cup. There was a moments silence before he shifted in his seat and looked across to Marcus, who was pointedly not looking in his direction. “Come on, you are too young and he has to look after you” he stated breaking some bread from the chunk he had and passing it across to Marcus, who accepted it and started to slowly chew a large mouthful.

  “There is nothing to say” Marcus said in a calm, monotone voice. “The Tribune has spoken and I cannot change his mind” he added with a nonchalant shrug and a smile to Decimus.

  Chapter 12

  Before dawn the city was awash with the noise of soldiers rushing to get to their cohorts after a final night in the local whorehouse or drinking and gambling till late in one of the few alehouses. Marcus was wrapped in his woollen cloak to keep out the cold half-frost of the early morning and f
ollowed Mella across the back of the stable block.

  “Are you sure this is it” he asked in a sleep weary drawl, his eyes still half shut from such little sleep.

  “Oh no, I’ve brought you to the wrong place when I spent all night up sorting out your shit for you” Mella said in a haughty exasperated and somewhat annoyed voice which Marcus was unsure how to respond to. “Of course it’s the right bloody place” he added as he lifted the latch from a thick wooden door and peered cautiously into the gloom beyond it. “Here” he added, giving Marcus a handful of grain and pulling him into the room.