The Fall of Veii- Part 1

by Francis Mulhern

  “City of Ferentium” called Marcus “The allotted time for discussion is at hand. What is your decision? Will you surrender your arms and liberty to Apollo, protector, and Mars, war-bringer, in the name of the people and senate of Rome?”

  A silence fell as the man atop the wall and two new arrivals shook their heads and laughed at the two Romans below them.

  “You cannot take these walls Roman. Go home and give your woman the benefit of your little spear” he called to a great burst of laughter from inside the city.

  “Almost humorous” said Scipio as Marcus grunted in response.

  “Then you leave me no choice than to declare that we, the people of Rome, will take this city and enslave all who bear no arms against us. We will, as is our legal right, kill anyone who bears arms against us and claim this city and its lands as our own”. With that he stepped forwards and threw the javelin frontwards, its nose dipping and skipping along the dry, hard ground before it came to a stop just before the gates. Before the javelin had landed Marcus had already turned and walked away from the gates, adjusting his helmet and striding purposefully towards the awaiting army. With a wave to Potitus he smiled to Scipio “I am going to enjoy this” he said.

  Potitus called to the officer in charge of the towers and the seven horses tied to the lifting mechanism were whipped forwards, their snorting causing the men on the wall to look away to their right with questioning gazes.

  “Hold there” called a soldier as he held the reins of the horses, another soldier using a long pole to guide the tower as it started to lift into and upright position. Potitus had created a large wheelbase on which the towers were to sit, the only way he could move them across the ground he had said. As the towers began to appear the defenders came streaming to the walls, their puzzled calls growing as the structures appeared to be rising from the ground.

  “Look at the fear they bring” said Scipio, a grin splitting his face.

  “Only fear of the unknown” replied Marcus “but it gives us an advantage and we must use it” he said as he turned and called to the men to keep the strain on the left rope. Slowly the structure lifted, men rushing to the base, removing chocks which held the structures in place, changing grips on the rope and calling instructions to each other as they dragged the tower higher. Potitus appeared at Marcus’s shoulder.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he said, a wax tablet full of notes on the movement of the machines in his hand. He whipped out his stylus and quickly mumbled “more weight on the right base” as he wrote it into his notes.

  Scipio nudged Marcus and pointed at the tower as it landed with a bump on its broad-based wheels, the remnants of a commandeered wagon. “It looks enormous” he said as the legionary in charge went around the base checking the wheels and hammering wooden stakes into the fixing at the side of the tower. Marcus moved across and looked at the machine, his admiration clear in his eyes. The tower was essentially a wooden platform on wheels with two ladders surrounded by a series of planks to keep the soldiers inside safe from arrows or slingshot. The wagon-base had been adjusted slightly to give a firmer base via additional planks of wood which gave it stability. As he walked around the base the legionaries were attaching ropes to the front via two large metal rings which had been attached to the reinforced base planks. The tower seemed sturdy, but the frame was light and Potitus had already voiced his concern that for true stability it needed bigger beams and a broader base, but in the current situation it should work just as they wished it to. Potitus and Marcus had been discussing how they would move the towers into position without losing too many, if any, men. They knew that any men pulling the machines would make easy targets for the defenders at the wall and that, as Scipio had pointed out, if the defenders rushed the machines with cavalry from the gates they would be easy prey to such a small, fast, attack force. Potitus had decided that a small force of a hundred spearmen should guard each of the towers and that the tower should be pulled forwards into position by thirty men with another thirty covering them with shields and wicker screens. It was risky, but represented their best chance to get the machines into position with the minimum loss. With a wave of his hand Potitus sent the wicker shields forwards. Two hundred men picked up the four feet high barricades and rushed forwards, an archer helping to carry the heavy shields which would sit as close to the walls as possible and provide covering archery fire.

  Marcus stepped forwards as the men looked expectantly at him. Taking a white robe from one of his messengers he donned the garment, covering his head in the robe and stepping up to the first tower, now ready to be dragged forwards. He raised his hands and turned towards the men, all faces watching him.

  “I call on Mars to give these towers his strength. I call on the sacred rites of our laws to be upheld in accordance with the laws set down by Apollo and I ask for the safety of our soldiers and the smiting of our enemies” he said as he stepped forwards and waved the orderly with the chicken’s forwards. Two birds were clucking loudly in the cage he dropped to the floor as he handed Marcus a handful of scented cake, moist despite the warm day. Marcus had frowned when he realised that he had not requested an augur for the small force he led but nevertheless he was well aware that the men would expect a patrician to complete the ceremonies for the battle. He nodded to the orderly who undid the catch on the cage and the first chicken leapt out flapping its wings, a good sign, thought Marcus as he crumbed the cake and let it fall onto the ground, both birds instantly swooping onto the food at his feet. The second bird scratched wildly, kicking dust back in the direction of the walls and he heard a murmur go around the watching men, another good sign. He smiled, he needed no more answers from the gods. He looked up at the closest soldiers, many holding amulets or tokens of luck as they awaited his verdict, those closest already smiling as they knew the portents were good having seen many such readings over the years.

  “We will kick down the walls and smite the enemy, it is written” he said as a great cheer rang out through the Roman lines, spears rising and falling in unison as the noise echoed off the walls of Ferentium. With a wave of his arm the phalanxes started to move into their formations and the army of Rome lined up to face their enemy.

  As he removed the hood and handed it back to the orderly, who was struggling to catch the chickens, Narcius appeared and saluted the officers, Calvus striding behind him, and said “Scorpions ready, Sir. We will be in position in three minutes and can provide cover as detailed.”

  “Excellent. Just remember, don’t waste those bolts we don’t have that many” replied Potitus as Marcus greeted Calvus’s arrival.

  “These tower machines are very interesting” he said, looking up at the wooden structure which was now starting to be pulled forwards as a cheer came from the Roman phalanxes lined up facing the walls of Ferentium. He turned to Marcus “Your tactics are” he narrowed his eyes “different” he said. “In a good way” he instantly smiled as he let out a low laugh. “These things” he waved a hand at the tower, looking up at the structures as they moved slowly forwards “could offer Rome a major advantage if they work as we expect.” He watched as Narcius stepped forwards and berated a legionary for not pulling as hard as he should be, cracking him with his vine cane and seeing the other legionaries nodding their approval at the punishment of the lack of effort by the man being chastised. “I will join Narcius in supporting the men” he laughed as he slapped Potitus on the shoulder and stepped forwards.

  “He’s changed” Potitus said with a look to Marcus.

  “We had an open and honest discussion” Marcus replied. “He has many views on many things and I have to say that I was surprised at how persuasive his arguments are. In fact, we discussed a great many things” he said cryptically as his eyes watched the towers creaking forwards now that both had been manned and were ready to move.

  “Time to get in position and see how this game plays out” he said with a wide smile to Potitus as he moved across to his horse.

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  Chapter 24

  The alleyway was dark despite the warm sunlight of the mid-afternoon as Manlius stepped out of the darkest shadow at the approach of the thin man, his bald head glistening in sweat as he laboured up the steep hill. The man’s look of surprise, and fear, made Manlius grin as he held up his hands to show he was not a bandit or murderer.

  “My friend, I am not here to harm you” he said, his face cracking into a smile as he stepped into the alleyway. The bald man backed away and glanced over his shoulder to see a thick-set man with a deep white scar across his chin step out from behind him, how had he missed the man, he cursed to himself.

  “What do you want, friend?” he asked in a quavering voice, gripping the pouch attached to his belt. He glanced over his shoulder again, seeing that the man behind him had not moved.

  “To talk” came the reply. “I am Marcus Manlius, you must know me?”

  The bald man squinted and stepped closer. “My eyes are not as good as they once were” he said as he squinted at Manlius and craned his neck as if he was trying to make out the face of the man. “I know of you, but what do you want of me Marcus Manlius?” he asked.

  “I understand you have details of a meeting between your master and Publius Postumius” he said as he stepped forwards, the smile friendly and warm but a harsh tone in his voice. The bald man stepped back again, the unmistakable collar marking him as a Verna, a slave born into a household and so valuable property. The slave gripped the pouch more tightly, Manlius seeing the action and raising his hands to show he still held no weapons. “All I want is the date.”

  The slave, his old face wrinkled, took a deep breath. “If master finds out” he mumbled.

  “Who would tell him?”

  The slave glanced again at the man with the scar leaning on the wall. He narrowed his eyes, he knew that man, he had seen him at the master’s house. “Him” he said, pointing. “He works for my master” he said, his eyes wide and mouth open as he turned back to Manlius.

  “He works for me now” said Manlius as he leant back against the wall and looked over at the sweating slave, his spindly legs showing a dark tan from his hours outdoors. “You have nothing to fear. I only want the date of the meeting and we will be gone, you will never see or hear from us again”.

  The slave gulped, sweat dripping from his temples onto his cheeks as he considered his next steps.

  “I know Ahala well” added Manlius. “Don’t worry, I have no hatred towards him and will not harm him in any way” he added, hoping that this would help the slave to come to a judgement.

  The slave looked around him, looking up at the high walls of the alleyway and leant forwards. “The second night after the full moon” he said quietly as Manlius patted him on the shoulder and handed him a thick silver coin, at which the slave gaped and bit the silver to check it was real before nodding and rushing off up the hill on his thin gangling legs.

  ****

  The towers seemed to take an age to reach their positions, the men of Rome standing watching as they were dragged slowly into the predetermined places Potitus had had dug into flat ground. At one point, the right tower had lurched dangerously as the wheels hit a large stone and the force of the pulling men had caused the wheel to jump as the metal binding creaked against the dark grey rock.

  Marcus sat looking at the scene, the city directly in front of him with its naturally defensive topography. To the right and left were steep slopes pitted with ravines which offered no attack opportunities, the rear falling to a steep cliff also held easily defensible ground. The only option was a frontal assault as they had planned. He had set the line out in three columns of men, each a deep mass of spears, with the few Eques he had at his command ranged on his far right but close enough to respond to any cavalry charge from the gates of the city. He looked up at the sky and nodded, he had plenty of the day left and he hoped this first assault would give him a measure of success in his first command, though his heart beat fast in his chest as he contemplated the thought. Regillensis and Narcius were standing in the centre ground, their ladders at the ready with the storming parties, who had been drilled for hours in the necessities of scaling the ladders and holding the narrow walkways above the city before moving en-masse to open the gates. Marcus would close the gap to the gates once the men were over the wall and he would lead the entry into the city with his Eagles once the gateway was cleared, with Calvus close behind with the second wave. He bit his lower lip as he thought through the actions, seeing it in his mind’s eye as it played out, looking for errors, changes to tactics and ways to make the attack more effective. Nothing came to his mind as he watched the arrows rain down on the towers and the men pulling them, the heavy shields starting to fill with bristles as each missile landed. So far, no Roman men had fallen. Scipio and Virginius held the remaining forces that would close in as soon as the gates were held by the attacks from Marcus and Calvus.

  A sudden rush of movement came from the left-hand tower as it jolted and shook for a few seconds, the men pulling it dropping the rope and turned on their heels to race away as the archers behind the wicker screens stood and launched arrows at the walls. Marcus took a second to realise that the tower had reached its position and he saw the two men rush from the wicker screen at its side into the safety of the structure and start to climb the ladder, the first man carrying his bow and quiver full of arrows and the second struggling to lift the heavier Scorpion up the steps. As they did so a flurry of arrows landed on the men rushing from the scene, one man falling with an arrow through his leg, the scream coming seconds after Marcus saw the man hit the dust. He stretched his neck to see if the fallen man was moving as a low cloud of dust grew across his vision where the majority of men were racing from the tower. A cheer went up as he saw the figure dragging his leg, his teeth clenched as he limped at great speed back towards the Roman line, arrows thumping into the ground all around him. Without thinking about it Marcus found he had kicked his horse forwards, digging his heels into the animal’s side and shouting at it. Potitus called something to him, but it was too late, he had made his decision. He bent low on the horses back, two hundred yards closed to fifty in a few heartbeats as the soldier twisted as another arrow hit his shoulder, knocking him to the ground as a great groan went up from the Roman lines. Marcus knew that this first action was critical to the motivation of the men. To see every man safely back from the tower would be a great boost to them, so he yelled at his horse to speed up, waving the reins wildly as he approached the soldier, his face screwed in pain. As he cleared the front line of soldiers he saw faces turn to him, their calls to their comrade turning to cheers as he raced forwards. As he approached the man, his arm stretched out towards him, he remembered something his brother Lucius had said to him years before, the soldiers want to believe their leaders are favoured by the gods, if you get the opportunity to prove it is so, then do it, but to die doing so would be stupid.

  Was this a stupid act? He reined in as an arrow thumped into the ground next to him, the soldier’s pleading face strewn with tears which drew long lines down his dust-covered face.

  “Quick” he called “Give me your hand, can you jump?” His horse swivelled as an arrow flashed past its ears, the noise of the cheering Romans growing as Marcus leant over and gripped the man’s arm, hauling him to his feet. Another great cheer came as Marcus realised that the Scorpion atop the tower had sent its first bolt into the defenders, clearing a section of the wall and giving him vital seconds as the defenders suddenly ducked at this new threat.

  “Quickly” Marcus called again, his teeth grinding with the effort of trying to lift the man, whose leg seemed normal with the exception of the dark wooden shaft through his calf, the amount of blood covering the leg almost non-existent. The legionary hauled his leg forwards with his loose arm, the shaft of the arrow in his shoulder bouncing as he did so with a huge grunt and his teeth grinding in pain.

  �
��Good man” called Marcus as he half lifted the soldier across the back of his horse, his mount turning and snorting at the new weight. Kicking hard Marcus steered the animal back towards the troops at a slow trot and he sat up with a prayer to Fortuna that she would keep them safe. With the words of Lucius in his ears he turned to the soldiers who stood cheering and he waved a hand, calling loudly “the gods are with us” as he closed on the rows of men, the cacophony of noise growing louder as he closed the ground.

  The soldier called his thanks as he was dragged from the back of Marcus’s horse and taken away by medics, his grateful calls drowned by the cheering of men. As Marcus waved to the soldiers Calvus appeared at his side and frowned at him.

  “You could have got yourself killed” he said flatly, his angry reproach evident in his eyes.

  Marcus took a deep breath. “A calculated bit of theatre” he lied “see how the men cheer now. They will see that the gods favour us” he said through deep gasps as he sat as tall as he could on his horse.

  Calvus shrugged but laughed quickly “Well, either way your action moved all the archers to the left wall as they saw the Roman Tribune charging at them, and that allowed the tower on the right to get into position without incident. A calculation?” he said, “or just a rush of blood?” he smiled.

  “The gods must surely be smiling on us all today” laughed Marcus as he turned to the sound of the Scorpions thumping their bolts into the defenders. “Time to attack?” he asked as Calvus sat on his horse watching him, his scrutinising look causing Marcus to feel uncomfortable at the gaze.

  Calvus smiled and turned to look at the scene. The defenders were now intermittently ducking to avoid the bolts and arrows from the Romans and the bolts had caused havoc with the thick line of men who had rushed to hurl their arrows at Marcus. With a quick glance at his sword, which he tapped three times before lifting it from its scabbard, he smiled back at Marcus. “Yes, I think now is as good a time as any, Tribune” and he set off back to his position in the line as Marcus waved to the trumpets to call the ladders forwards.