The Romans almost came to a standstill as they bristled at the wall of spear tips, two legionaries ducking and parrying at the front as three others tried to work around the sides. The Gauls screamed and shouted curses but they remained solid as a unit and the clatter of sword on wood soon grew into a clamour as the Romans were bested. Marcus was thinking furiously as he called the men to keep pushing forwards, his sword swiping against a spear as it was thrust towards him. Apuleius took a spear to the shoulder, the iron wrenching his body back as he bit his lip and dropped his shield to grab the wood of the shaft. It was the gap that Marcus needed and he threw himself forward, his short blade slamming into the open mouth of the Gaul as he tried desperately to pull back the weapon which was embedded in Apuleius’ shoulder. Before the sword had exited the back of the man’s head the Gaul next to him had, wide-eyed with fear, already turned to stare at his fellow soldier, a move which allowed two legionaries to stab him simultaneously. With the weight of Marcus’ attack, the Romans were through, Gauls pushed against the walls were stabbed and hacked as they attempted to draw their swords, falling before their weapons even reached half way from their scabbards. The remaining Gauls had sprinted up the hill as soon as the Romans had gained the upper hand, five or six rounding the corner with a final glance back at the Romans with fear in their eyes.
“This way” Marcus called, clambering over the rubble that led to the steep rise which was blocked by the men on the top of the Capitol. Calling that he was Marcus Furius Camillus he and the remaining men were greeted by a series of heads which appeared over the barricade with bows trained on them. Several men called their names at the defenders as they scrambled across the detritus which littered the way to the alley in which the defenders stood. A cheer went up, but Marcus called at the defenders for silence.
“No, brave men of Rome. No. Silence please. We must not let the Gauls know we are here. Are the leaders still on the Capitol?” he called as a wooden ladder protruded clumsily over the parapet and several men appeared above them.
“Sir.” Called a voice from above. “Yes, they are still there collecting the last of the gold” he said, his thin face and sunken eyes glistening with joy as he stared open-mouthed at the men who had come to rescue them.
“Then we must get to the Temple” Marcus called as he gripped the rungs of the ladder and started to climb. “But nobody must know we are here” he shouted.
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“The dish” Javenoli shouted, causing several faces to turn to him in astonishment. “It’s the dish that is weighted” he called again. “Look how it is bigger and thicker than this one” he pointed. “They have tricked us” he called, his wide eyes narrowing as he turned to Lucius.
Lucius stared at the scales and stepped forwards as Aengus simply smiled and moved back towards the group of Gauls, who had now stiffened, Brennus’ eyes suddenly darkening as his lips went taut across his face.
“It’s trickery after all” yelled Lucius to Astonus as the Gaul shrugged and stepped back behind Belinus, who had moved to the fore of the group. “You claimed we were cheating you and it turns out that it is you who are the thieves after all” Lucius snarled. Men stirred around the room and shuffling feet sounded as men started to move to give themselves enough space to either fight or run.
“And why not” shouted Brennus, his red hair swaying as he moved menacingly close to Lucius and snorted in his face, snot falling from his nostrils into his moustache as he stooped and grasped a handful of the gold before throwing it back on the scales, the heavy metal scudding to the ground and the clanging echo sounding like a bell tolling as it span on the floor. “This” he waved his arm around the Temple “is all mine. I won this in combat and I will take everything you own as is my right” he shouted as all of the Gauls drew their swords and circled their leader. “This” he called as he stood as tall as his frame would allow and held his own thick iron sword up in the air. “Is the sword of victory” he said loudly, his eyes falling on Lucius, the anger clear in the veins that strained from his neck as the golden torc flashed in the light.
“In law we agreed to a thousand pounds of gold and in law that is all you can claim” Lucius shouted back as he arched his back and stared defiantly up at the taller Gaul. “We have paid your price” he said dismissively. “Take it and go” came the final words as Lucius clasped his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes at the Gaul.
Brennus laughed, a loud barking, hoarse, laugh that split the room as Belinus came to stand beside him and grinned at his cousin, the druid. Aengus had already slipped across the room and was at Brennus’ right shoulder, silver curved dagger in hand. “Gold means everything to you stupid Romans” he said as his eyes circled the room. “I will take it” he added slowly as his eyes fixed on Lucius. “All of it. And all of the remaining gold in this Temple” he said eying the gold ring on Lucius’ finger.
Lucius stood his ground. “You are entitled to your spoils as we agreed” he said slowly. “One thousand pounds of gold. There is the last payment. Take it and leave our city as you agreed.”
“Agreed” bawled Brennus as specks of spit flew from his mouth, his cheeks turning an angry red as he ground his teeth and turned back to the scales. He strode across to the scales and turned to look at Lucius as the crowd moved back and a shaft of light came from the doorway illuminating the sword which he lifted into the air.
“Vae Victis” he yelled and threw his broadsword onto the scales, the iron ringing loudly as it bounced on the gold-filled disc. “Woe to the vanquished, Roman” he spat as he pointed to the scales “we will take what is ours as victors and owners of this city. Every scrap of gold will be wrenched from your fingers if we have to. It is ours by right” he snapped as several men stepped forwards and caught his eye, one in particular stepping boldly toward him, his beard trimmed neatly and his features looking far too healthy to be one of the Romans from the hill. The man had a short blade which he turned so that he held the flat of the blade and marched purposefully towards the scales. The crowd of Romans began to whisper, a sudden cheer rang out from the back of the room and Brennus stared wildly at Lucius and then back to the taller Roman who now stood a yard in front of him and held up a hand for silence.
“What trickery is this?” Brennus snarled as his eyes bored into those of the newly arrived Roman.
Marcus nodded to his brother, the trail of a smile etched across his features. He turned to the Gallic leader, noting the enormous hands, the thick red beard and the angry eyes.
“I am Marcus Furius Camillus” he stated slowly and quietly. The effect was startling. The anger shown by Brennus had filled the room with tension, the Romans and Gauls standing apprehensive and alert, ready to snap at the smallest movement by their enemies. Marcus’ words were soft, almost quiet, and they seemed to take almost all of the anger from the Gauls as each man creased his brow and turned to their leader.
“You Gauls say you are men of honour” Marcus continued, his shoulders relaxed as he held the flat of his sword in his right hand and let his gaze move across the Gauls in front of him, eyeing each man for his strength, noting the weapons, the tense muscles and the scars which suggested how they led their attacks. “Let it be known that I have been declared Dictator, leader, of Rome by the Senate and people of our city” he said as silence fell into the room. “As Dictator I denounce this payment as illegal” he said as his jaw tightened and his fingers bunched into a fist in his left hand, his voice starting to rise. “The people of Rome chose me as their leader before these prisoners on the Capitoline agreed to give you their gold. Their freedom will not be paid for with gold, they had no right to offer such a payment.”
Brennus stepped forwards, his towering frame standing a half head taller than Marcus as he stared down at him with his nostrils flaring.
“What trickery you Romans try” he roared. “Every time we talk to you, you twist words as if it were rope, knotting it into a noose on which to hang your enemies. You did it at Clusium
” he spat, the lump landing at Marcus’ feet. “You will not trick me again Roman” he said as he stepped closer, his chest heaving against Marcus as he looked down at him.
Marcus smiled, knowing that he was being provoked. He knew that despite all the bluster the Gaul was still acting within the rules of Nations. He wanted Marcus to strike the first blow. Marcus smiled amiably and widened his stance slightly so that the pushing Gaul could not lean too much against him without fear of tripping.
“There are no tricks here” Marcus said as he turned on his heel, half smiling as Brennus over balanced slightly and had to right himself. “The law is the law Gaul. These people had no right to agree these terms with you. They had, by law, divested all powers to me as their sole leader. It is my decision whether we pay this ransom you request before you leave our city.”
Brennus huffed and crossed his arms with a darting look to the smaller, older, man who was standing wide-eyed on his left.
“The terms were agreed in good faith. These” Astonus said, returning to his role of negotiator. “Are the spoils of war and the terms agreed are right in law, they are ours” he stated with a fixed stare.
“No” Marcus said in response. “If your leaders were split from your army and agreed terms, they would not honour them once they returned. Such is the way of war” Marcus added as he moved towards the scales, his eyes resting on several small golden objects which had fallen to the floor. He leant forwards and picked up a small golden disc inscribed in Greek and bearing the picture of Achilles, his spear held high as if in a killing stroke. He placed the disc back on the scales slowly as every eye watched his movements. The long sword of Brennus lay across the top of the scales, the dark iron was etched with scratches where he had meticulously sharpened the edges, the scratches played in the light as Marcus looked at it momentarily. “And today I have returned to Rome to take the city back into the hands of its founders and fathers” he said with a hiss as he turned and stared directly at Brennus. “Take your men from this Temple” he said as his eyes darkened “under the flag of truce as agreed, but there will be no more gold” he added. “As Dictator I tell you, Gaul” he spat the words ferociously, “that with iron and not gold will this land be redeemed” he said, brandishing the sword he held in his hand and letting it fall with a clash on top of the broad sword of Brennus as the Gaul glared at him, his eyes flicking from the sword to the Roman leader.
Brennus took two enormous strides, men bristling as he stepped forwards and leaned in over Marcus. “You Romans are like a snake in the grass” he said as his hand slipped onto the hilt of his sword. “You slither and you twist, your tongues sliding from your mouths as you utter your false promises and use your cold eyes to fix your prey. Well today Marcus Furius Camillus you will have your tongue cut from your head and I will feed it to my hounds.”
Marcus could smell the sweat of the man as he stood with one hand on his sword, which remained on the scales, and his other tightened into a fist, before he snapped back to his full height.
“You will all die in this miserable city” Brennus called as the Gauls, all except Aengus who was watching Marcus like a hawk, burst into angry chants and curses at the Romans around them. “Let it be known that I Brennus of the Senones, killer of Romans, will never be defeated by such weak snakes who do not know the meaning of the word honour.” His last words were spoken directly to Durso, who stood stiff-jawed as the Gauls white teeth bared in his red-bearded face. With a glance to the rest of the Gauls and a quick glance back at the gold he was leaving behind he turned and motioned towards the door. The guards moved instantly, pushing and shoving the watching Romans, the first three getting bloody noses as the Gauls heaved into them viciously.
“Let them go” Marcus called as the knot of men by the door raised their weapons in defence. “They say we have no honour. Well, let them know that the men of Rome have honour enough to let them walk free of the Capitol as agreed by its Senate.” A cheer went up as the Gauls were jostled from the room and made their way out into the sunshine.
Brennus’ head snapped left and right as he got his bearings and headed directly down the slope which led to the narrow alleyways by which they had entered a few hours earlier. Around him the Romans were asking questions, the noise growing louder as the people thronged around the Temple and began to cheer, the words Camillus starting to ring around in the air. Belinus pointed away to his right and called something which Brennus couldn’t quite hear, but before the walls of the houses rose to obstruct his view he was able to make out movement in the city below him. Soldiers marching through the streets, the clash of weapons, indistinct in the noise of the crowd around him, but there none the less, came to his ears. He ground his teeth in anger as he strode out towards the entrance. He took a long breath and tightened the grip on his sword, he would make this Camillus pay dearly for this.
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Chapter 22
The crowd swarmed around Marcus, men raising their arms to the sky and thanking the gods for their deliverance, others hugging their wives and children as they shouted praise to the men who had come to their rescue.
Marcus held his arms aloft and called for silence as the men of the Senate hugged and cheered as if they had won a major battle against their enemies.
“Romans” he called. “Romans.” The sound of people cheering ebbed slowly and eventually came to a hushed quiet as men began to beat their swords on the tables, their shields and even the iron of the scales, which now stood forlornly at the centre of the Temple, to gain silence. Eventually the noise was low enough for Marcus to speak without shouting. He glanced to Lucius, his face gaunt and his clothes hanging like sack cloth from his thin bones and nodded grimly. “The gods have favoured you” he called as he held his gaze up at the ceiling of the Temple. “For they have saved you from harm as these barbarians have tried to starve you from your prison” he circled his arms as he spoke the words. “Now we must face an even greater danger” he said as faces frowned at him and some of the older men grimaced. “For we must face these Gauls and throw them from our city.” A great rapturous cheer echoed around the Temple as men vented their pent-up anger at the Gauls and screamed a defiance that had been held in check by the barricades they had built around the Capitol. Marcus held up his hands again and waited for silence. As the last noise died away, he let his eyes move across the scene around him, hope in every eye that caught his own. “The Gauls are heading towards Praeneste” he said as he lifted his sword. “Most of their soldiers have already left, but our legions are moving through the streets to cleanse them of the filth that has infested them for several months. You men and women here must recover first. Eat, drink and gain your strength before you join the army that will rid this city of these Gallic barbarians. Only when you are strong should you re-join the legions” he said with a nod towards the door. “I must go now and lead the men as they push the Gauls out of the city” he said as he stepped forwards, his left-hand gripped Lucius’ arm as he moved. “Rome will be ours once more. Our iron will regain this land.”
As he stepped from the doors of the Temple, he saw men and women kneeling and praying to the gods, children running in circles cheering, unsure what to say or do, and other men grabbing swords and lining up ready to march with him back down the hill towards the city. He grinned. He was back.
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Brennus jumped the final few feet to the floor and yelled at the small Roman shield wall which was arrayed across the road to his right. To his left were many dead Gauls, their eyes staring blankly into the sky as their blood still ran from their crumpled bodies.
“Back to the warriors” he growled as he stepped over a shield and kicked at a fallen helmet, the dented metal ringing as it skittered along the road. “We will hold out at the gate along the road where the wagons left this morning” he shouted as his angry face turned to Astonus.
Astonus quailed under the gaze of his leader. “You have failed me” he snarled as Astonus’ eyes widened
in fear and his head began to shake. “Your counsel was ill-advised and your negotiations were poor” Brennus snapped as he turned his head away from the older man. He didn’t even turn his head as he heard the body of the advisor fall heavily to the floor, the gurgling and groping sounds telling him that the man’s throat had been slit before he could even utter a word in his defence. He smiled.
Aengus appeared at his side, his blade dripping with blood. “The omens were bad, cousin” he said, his voice flat. “And the death of Astonus will appease the gods for a while, but I fear we must defeat these Romans again before the day is out.”
Brennus huffed and stroked his beard as he strode along the road, more men appearing at his side, swords running with gore. “Are the gods with us?” he asked, his voice a little more strained than he wanted it to be.
“The grey heron was seen this morning” Aengus said slowly. The bird was the bringer of death and the Gauls had spent many hours discussing what it could mean. “Sedullos and his clan were the guards this day, they have failed and the Heron must have their spirits” he added as Brennus nodded at his words. “If they survive.”
Vae Victis Page 28
