He dropped his useless spear, which remained entangled among other spear-shafts and did not fall to the ground. With his right hand he groped for his sword, but when it was drawn he made no attempt to use it. Instead he braced his right hand on his knee, holding the sword behind his shield. In this attitude he might perhaps endure the growing pressure without being knocked off his legs and trampled to death by indifferent feet.
The position was stabilised. This was desperately hard work: no one was pushing a sharp spike at him, and suddenly he recovered his nerve. Why, he was fighting gallantly in the front rank of the Roman army! It seemed that he would come out alive, and then for years afterwards he might boast of his exploits. Set battles were not nearly so dangerous as the casual frays between brigands and shepherds which he remembered from his wandering days. He took a firmer grip of his sword and looked about him. Below his own shield he saw an inch or two of brown thigh, with an Etruscan greave below it. He thrust awkwardly, using only the strength of his wrist; for all his force was needed to keep him in his crouched posture.
He heard a grunt above his head as the bloody leg flinched away. There was a momentary easing of the pressure, until the ranks behind forced him forward and his left foot fumbled for purchase on a writhing body. His shield was now engaged against another solid obstacle, so that he was in no danger of falling on his face. He looked down to see that he was standing on a fine woollen loincloth, whose protective leather apron had been thrust aside by his toe. A quick downward stab, and he had killed his first foe in open battle. He could not see the man’s face, but he supposed he must be the Etruscan noble who had engaged him when the armies met.
He had advanced a few feet; so, luckily, had his comrades on either side. But as a whole the battle was still undecided, though now it was becoming more deadly as men dropped their spears and began to rip at bellies with their short stabbing-swords. Yet a wall of shields was still opposed to another wall of shields; no one was free to move forward, and only the rear ranks were free to retire.
Yet the lines were never still. A commotion far away to left or right set them eddying and swirling, as men lurched in the throng. Trumpets sounded above the warcries, there were bellows of rage and shrieks of pain; and under all the noises a steady trampling of feet, as unwounded warriors strove desperately not to be knocked over. It was deafening and exhausting, and far more dangerous than it appeared to be.
But Perperna had grown accustomed to his dangerous surroundings. Sword in hand, he guarded with vigilance the only vulnerable point in his panoply, the lower edge of his shield. Once a spear-point flickered there, until he trod it underfoot and the unseen foe dropped it; several swords appeared, to be warded aside. Then the pressure seemed to be easing. He straightened himself cautiously, looking over his shield to see if victory had already been won.
It had not, as he realised when he saw the Etruscan helms thronging close. He had more room because the Romans at his rear were falling back. He might have been left behind to be hacked to pieces by innumerable swords, if his rear-rank man had not tugged at his tunic. ‘Get back, you fool,’ his comrade gasped. ‘We must keep the line unbroken or they will be all over us.’
Without turning he took four long paces to the rear, stumbling over the wreckage of the battlefield. Then he was snug again with sheltering shields on either side, and felt ready to begin the fight once more.
But now that the line had begun to move back it was very hard to bring it to a halt. The slope favoured the Romans, but even so the Etruscan advance gathered impetus. The pressure grew once more strenuous, and every Roman had the idea that another long step back would set him free to move and give him a chance to find firm footing. Perperna could not feel the support of a shield at his back; obviously he could not be expected to stand alone against six ranks of Etruscans. The only thing to do was to move faster and catch up with his retreating comrades. The line was now falling back at a steady walking pace.
As he walked backwards he stumbled, and saved himself from a fatal fall only by a quick sidestep which strained a muscle in his thigh. The clods of stubble-strewn earth seemed to be meeting his feet at the wrong angle, and he wondered for a moment whether some hostile god were attempting to trip him. Then he understood, and was even more afraid. The retreating army had been driven back to the summit of the slope, and beneforth the Etruscans would have the ground in their favour.
All the Romans were aware of their deadly danger. For a few desperate minutes the retreat was halted while swords and spears prodded across the short space of level crest. But men who have once begun to give ground find it hard to stand firm. With another surge and a great blast of trumpets the Etruscans got them on the move again; and now it was more difficult to keep a footing on the steeper reverse slope of the ridge.
Thus far Perperna had not been scratched, while many combatants in either side were losing blood from cuts on arm or leg. But his thigh ached from the sprain, and he knew that if it came to a rout he would not be able to run fast. Very well, then. He had survived the destruction of his city, only to die in a skirmish between detachments from the main armies of two remote provincial states. In his second battle he would be slain, and there was no striving against fate. He still had one last duty, to his ancestors and his kin. Since he could not flee he must die well, leaving a corpse which the victorious enemy would treat with reverence; a corpse fully armed, even to the shield, and bearing all its fatal wounds in front.
Slowly he walked backwards, still covered by his shield, his sword darting out beside it to keep attackers at a distance.
The Etruscans were leaving him alone. For the first time since the armies had clashed, and that seemed long hours ago though in truth it was not more than forty minutes, no one was trying to get past his guard and stab him in the heart. He could lower his shield and look about him. He saw the explanation. On either side the Roman lines had broken, with the warriors of the front rank turned about and trying to run from the field as fast as they could. Thanks to his sprained thigh and his natural reluctance to turn tail he had become the apex of a little wedge of resistance when the rest of the army was broken. Behind him a score of sober and sensible veterans were rallying, level-headed men who knew that even in a lost battle panic flight was the most dangerous expedient.
Of course he was far from safe. Since there were no cavalry on the field the Veientine foot were all engaged in the pursuit, and none had leisure to deal with this last knot of defiance. But already there were Etruscans behind him, though they had not yet turned to attack his little party from the rear. He wondered if there were still some way of escape, and at the same moment someone behind him called out: ‘You are the outlaw from the north, aren’t you? You must have been in other fixes like this. I won’t run away, but have you any idea what we ought to do next?’
Perperna had been looking round for someone to command him. Now he realised that these lost Romans looked to him to bring them to safety. That he could not do, of course; but at least he could show them how to end a defeat with dignity.
‘Run away if you want to,’ he called back. ‘I can’t, because I am lame. But the Veientines are behind us. There’s no escape, and we may as well die fighting. If some of you will guard my back we may kill an Etruscan or two before they make an end of us.’
He set off resolutely to the crest of the ridge, and after a moment’s hesitation the score of Romans followed him. The fighting was already a furlong or so behind them. They had leisure to search for unbroken spears among the litter of the battlefield before they sat down in a circle, facing outwards.
Perperna was gratified to note that he was quite calm. He was setting an example to hardened veterans. It was unfortunate that the enemy did not know his name, and that in any event he had no kin to hand down his memory to posterity; for this was the kind of end out of which poetry was made. Perhaps in the underworld his deeds would be known, and when he entered it he would be welcomed by the heroes of old. He looked round th
e deserted field to see if he could spot any of the Choosers of the Slain, the maiden daughters of Skyfather, who ought to be busy here just now.
Over there was a crow, which might very well be one of them; if she came within earshot he would tell her his name and ancestry, and remind her that he was about to die like a hero in what was only his second great battle (he might add that in his first battle he had killed more than one of the foe). But she remained tearing at a fresh corpse, presumably doing her duty, and came no nearer to the little group of living men. It was odd that he should see only one bird that mattered in augury, and that one on the lucky right-hand side. In this pass it was hard to imagine what a good omen might promise, but it was undeniably a good omen.
‘The pursuit has gone clean out of sight,’ someone remarked cheerfully. ‘If we keep to the north side of the slope, where they can’t see us from a distance, we may be lucky enough to get away unharmed.’
‘That’s the straight road to Veii, isn’t it? Well, they won’t be looking for us in that direction. How many are we? Twenty-four? Perhaps we shall reach the town before the Veientine army; and capture it all by ourselves.’ Perperna also spoke cheerfully; for now that he knew he would be dead in a few hours nothing seemed to be really important or depressing.
There seemed to be no living men in sight, though they knew that among the wounded some would observe their flight. There was no hope of escape, but to keep marching seemed somehow more gallant and heroic than to wait for death sitting still. On the far of side the ridge they soon left behind them the wreckage of the first encounter, and their spirits rose as they moved over clean untrampled grass.
They were only a few miles from the city of Veii, in which there must be some kind of garrison. Soon they would be surrounded and attacked. If the enemy were in a bad temper after heavy losses the last survivors might be knocked over alive and then killed painfully and slowly. Perperna decided to place himself in the front rank once again, and to guard himself carelessly. It would be prudent to get a spear in the heart while everyone was busy fighting at full stretch.
They marched for more than an hour, and must have been getting near Veii when the last man in the group shouted a warning. After looking round Perperna gave his orders, for by now he had been accepted as unquestioned leader. ‘Draw up across the track here, in four ranks of six men each. Get the formation as tight as you can, and remember that flight won’t save you. Hold your spears well up; aim at the rider, not at the horse. But where did those horsemen spring from? In the battle I saw no Veientine cavalry.’
Galloping hard behind them came a knot of armed horsemen, their ensign of dyed wool streaming from a gilded pole and their trumpet pealing the charge. The Romans answered the challenge with their own warcry, the sobbing call of the hunting she-wolf.
Suddenly the riders sawed at their reins, pulling up in a spatter of cods and turf. One man alone rode forward at a walk, and then shouted in amazement.
‘So you really are Romans? I thought those Veientines couldn’t get our warcry right, even to save their lives. But what are you doing here, all by yourselves? Do you plan to take Veii alone, all twenty-four of you? I thought we had only two armies in the field. Where have you come from, and who is your leader?’
All speaking at once, they told of their adventures. Soon the young noble cut them short. ‘So you follow this Perperna, though the King has not given him any regular authority? Very well, sir, that promotion on the battlefield makes you my equal. I am Aemilius, a commander of horse. I’ll get you a mount, and you must come with me to report to the King. This is a famous deed. I was sent out to see if there was anything left of the colonists after their shocking defeat by the Veientine detachment. After riding for miles over the bodies of Romans stabbed disgracefully in the back, and persuading terrified fugitives to climb out of the tree-tops, I find a score of undismayed veterans setting off to attack Veii on their own. Heroic, that’s what it is. But if King Romulus hadn’t destroyed the main Etruscan army you’d all be food for crows by now. Not only are you brave men, the gods must be very fond of you.’
His words came tumbling out, in undisguised admiration. But the greatest compliment of all was that he ordered a sulky noble to dismount and give his horse to Perperna.
The main Roman army was halted before the gate of Veii.
But the gate stood open, hung with olive-branches in token of peace. Etruscan councillors were bringing out the chests of tribute, and less important Veieintines, Italians of the populace, were bargaining over skins of wine with those Roman spearmen who had a little silver. Quickly Perperna understood. In the same hour in which the colonists of Fidenae and Camerium had been heavily defeated the King had gained an overwhelming victory. He was told that Romulus himself, with nothing but his personal bodyguard, had destroyed a whole band of spearmen nearly fourteen hundred strong. At once, fearing that they could not survive an assault on the city wall, the Veientines had offered terms of peace. They would pay tribute, they would give hostages, they would surrender their precious salt-works at the mouth of the river, they would hand over anything – if only the dreaded Romans and their all-conquering King would go away. Then the city of Veii would remain free and independent, even though depopulated and poor.
The victorious Veientine detachment, bearing trophies taken from the colonists, was even now marching in by the western gate, too late to save their city.
King Romulus sat on his famous ivory stool beneath an awning of purple cloth. He was obviously tired to the limit of endurance – a middle-aged man, almost an old man, who had fought for a long day like a lad on his first campaign. But he was also obviously at the very summit of happiness, drunk with satisfaction as though with wine. Now here was another item of good news, so that his pleasure might overflow. With a broad grin he embraced Perperna.
‘The disgraceful behaviour of the colonists was the only blot on this wonderful day, and you have redeemed the squalid story by your heroism. People will forget that my men ran at the first charge, and instead remember that when all was lost a score of Romans showed themselves willing to fight the whole army of Veii. And it was your doing. Your comrades are brave men, and I shall reward them; but they would have straggled away if you had not held them together. It’s all the better that you are one of my old celeres. That will show the world that I can pick, out good warriors. Now what can I do to make you as happy as I am? You will come back to Rome, of course, and bring your family and all your household. I’ll give you a good house on the Palatine, and twice the ploughland of an ordinary citizen.
If that isn’t enough you can also manage the salt-works at the river mouth. The works were designed by Etruscans, and it will take an Etruscan to manage them. And even more important, I shall make you a Senator. I have just decided, this very minute, to add a hundred Senators of the tribe of the Luceres to the hundred Latins and the hundred Sabines. It won’t be easy to find a hundred respectable Luceres, but you are one man who deserves the promotion. Now is there anything else I can do for you? No? In that case you may go home and get ready to move your household. Keep that horse. It’s one of mine anyway, and it won’t harm my proud young cavaliers if one of them has to march home on his feet for a change. Now be off with you, before I give you the half of my kingdom and then begin to envy your prosperity.’
Vibenna was pleased at the change of affairs. She managed to stretch her face into a cold and perfunctory smile, the first her husband had seen. ‘I shall be glad to get away from this unhappy town, where everyone remembers that I was taken as spoil of war in a forced marriage. Perhaps in Rome they will think of me as a real matron, whose husband was correctly chosen for her by her parents. Anyway, they all say that in Rome wives are well treated. And it is a healthy place, or healthier than this; so your child who has started to grow inside me will stand a chance of living. It will be wonderful to see a child of mine crawling about, after three of them dead in their cradles. Yes, I know you are surprised at my news, men always
are. But all the same it’s true, and I’m not sure that I don’t love you.’
For the first time since he had met her, she was speaking in Etruscan.
Everyone enjoyed the splendid victory celebrations, except the Veientine commander, who had been captured in the field. When Romulus gave thanks to Mars on the Capitol this prisoner followed behind his chariot, dressed as a child. Afterwards he was slowly whipped to death with the light canes used for punishing children; though whether this was done as a sacrifice to the gods, or merely to give pleasure to King Romulus, no one could say.
11. Bloodguilt
The citizens were gathered in the assembly. If all the spearmen in Rome had attended the valley would have been uncomfortably crowded; and if all the colonists had come too, from their outlying cities, the King would have been compelled to choose some other site. In fact Romulus faced only a small audience. The assembly was summoned to meet on most evenings, and its business was never announced beforehand; most citizens could not be bothered to come. Thus the King could boast that he ruled with the assent of all his subjects, and yet there was a very slight risk that anyone would vote against him.
This evening there was nothing of importance to be decided. A few young men had reached military age; they must be presented by their fathers for enrolment in the tribes. More pigs were needed for sacrifice to the gods below, who do not care for oxen. The pigs would be bought with silver from the common treasury, which could amply afford it; but the expenditure must be agreed by the assembly, so that the sacrifice might be offered on behalf of all the citizens. There was one clear case of damage to growing crops; but the owner of the straying sheep had already acknowledged his fault, and the amount of compensation had been settled between the parties. The assembly pronounced on it only to put on record that the dispute was at an end.
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