Etruscan Blood

by AM Kirkby

  ***

  They advanced two more times, till they stood at the edge of the slope, and still there was no response from the city. It put Servius on edge; it felt almost as if the city had been abandoned to the ghosts, and stood empty, undefended. He had taken his army so close that if anyone above had pushed a boulder down that rough slope, chance could carry away ten or a dozen men of his front line; they were vulnerable, standing there, even in armour.

  They stood there, sweating with heat and fear, in the vast silence of noon. The sappers he'd sent forward had finished their work, and the right-hand phalanx swallowed them up. They felt stillness settle heavy on their shoulders. If it hadn't been for the fear Servius thought he would have begun to drowse. Even the fat flies, now, were sleepy, easily brushed off into the dirt where they were trodden on, and burst like mulberries.

  It wasn't working. He'd gambled on his plan, and lost. The sun had reached its zenith; the glare seared his eyes, and made him squint into the dazzle. He gave the command; retreat. Cavalry first.

  "You can't do that, sir."

  One of the veterans. Plain speaking, as all his men were; you might depend on that for your life, some day.

  "I just did."

  "Yes, but..."

  "Tell me."

  "They're not covering us now, sir. We're unprotected."

  "So we are."

  "Sir." The man's voice was hollow, as if he'd been given the order to suicide.

  "Don't worry. There's a plan. A good plan."

  But he felt hollow. There was a plan, but the plan wasn't working. He was still doing what he'd planned to do; but Veii... Veii wasn't joining the dance. All this discipline, and effort, and planning, might go for nothing, and at nightfall, if they were lucky, they'd be back in camp, having achieved nothing, admittedly at little cost, but the men would start to grumble, and Servius would have lost a little of their respect. The gilt of good luck and the lustre of success soon rubbed bare, and men began to suspect there was base metal underneath.

  Retreating before a single blow had been struck. Retreating in front of what was, perhaps, an empty city; in front of a city that had not resisted. Retreating, against all the rules, without the horse to cover them.

  He felt, at least, relieved that Vulca could be in no possible danger now.