The Fall of Veii- Part 2

by Francis Mulhern

  “Sir?” he said, his voice almost pleading. “They are preparing a sacrifice in the temple. A great white bull from what I hear” he said quickly as Marcus sat forwards at the words, his interest suddenly gained. “It will be slaughtered by the king himself. I heard two slaves talking about it as they drew water” he said, his voice trailing at the words. Marcus’ eyes flashed with anger as Fabius took a small step backwards.

  All eyes turned to Marcus as Fabius stood in the silence that fell into the room, his heavy breathing the only audible sound.

  “Tell me exactly what you heard” Marcus asked slowly, his voice menacing and his eyes constricted into thin lines.

  Fabius swallowed hard, his eyes roving the men as he took a step closer. “I crept into the tunnels last night” he said. “I was planning to join the attack by sneaking into the men as they went into the city” he shrugged as a few men shook their heads, Marcus along with them. “I slept at the bottom of the well, out of view” he added quickly to the sudden alarm in the faces of some of the men. “In the night a great noise came from the temple, the shutters were being drawn and hundreds of slaves were moving the furniture, dragging chairs across the floor and clearing the space where the throne sits. I heard two slaves coming to the well so I slid back and listened. They said that the king was performing the sacrifice to the goddess himself, a great white bull which would tell them of victory for Veii.” he swallowed again. “So I got one of the ladders and crept...” at this Mella stood and waved a finger at him, but before he could say more than a few words Marcus had placed his hand across his forearm and motioned Fabius to continue. Mella sat with a thump and an icy glare at the younger man. Fabius continued.

  “I crept up to the well and saw they were cleaning the throne and laying a sacrificial stone. I overheard another man, a priest” he raised his eyebrows as if this was really important “say that the sacrifice would be performed by the king and that everything had to be spotless” he finished with eyes wide as he stared at Marcus.

  “Anything else?” Marcus asked. “The slightest detail might be important” he added as he scrutinised Fabius’ face.

  Fabius looked deep in thought. “The sacrifice will be made one hour before the sun reaches its zenith” he said “which is why I ran all the way back.”

  Marcus motioned all the men to sit and held a hand as Fabius started to move forwards as if to join the group. Fabius stopped, his face questioning as Marcus waited a moment before speaking.

  “You, Quintus Fabius, could have given the Etruscans knowledge of our entrance to their city. Your stupid, impetuous actions could have caused disaster to Rome.” Fabius’ face fell as the words tumbled from Marcus’ mouth. “Your stupidity and reckless behaviour could have seen every man here slain as they entered that tunnel, and worse still it could have given the damned Veientines a way into our camp. Mella go now and check the tunnel please, take a large force just in case we need it.” Mella rose with a scowl at Fabius and saluted before dashing from the room.

  “Nobody saw...” Fabius tried to say as Marcus spoke loudly over him.

  “You are a hot headed bloody fool Fabius. How many times do we have to tell you to follow orders? How many times do you have to be told to hold yourself back from your reckless schemes? You have endangered every man in this camp with your stupid actions. If the Veientines had seen you we would have lost half the men in this camp, gods” he spat as he thumped the table with his palm, the slapping noise making several officers jump. Fabius’ mouthed worked but no sound came out as his eyes widened with fear at the stern words from his commander. Marcus put his hands to his face and then looked to the officers around the table.

  “We need to act now” he said urgently as the men nodded, some glancing with stony stares to Fabius. “Potitus, take the army and line it up for attack. Narcius, get the men ready to enter the tunnel within the half hour. Scipio” he nodded to his friend “You know what to do?” he asked as Scipio nodded firmly. Glancing to the candles on the table he held up his hands and closed his eyes. “Jupiter, Mars, Juno, we ask your blessing on our actions. Smite this enemy of Rome and we will give great thanks and blessings to you all.” He held his breath before he opened his eyes and spoke again. “Then let’s get ready gentlemen, the battle begins” he grinned as the men saluted and started to leave the room, Fabius moving to the side as many shook their heads at him.

  ****

  “Sire, the Romans are lining up their troops to attack” came the urgent voice of one of the guards, his face unconcerned as he relayed the information. The officer wandered to the walls and watched the gates to the siege works creaked open and men started to stream from them. He smiled at the futility of the act, knowing that they could not breach the walls. “Tell the commander that they are lining up their men” came the bored tone of his reply as he leant on the stone and watched with interest as the men began to line up in deep rows along the front of the city. Within a few minutes the leader of the watch appeared and leant on the wall next to him.

  “Looks like a full scale attack” he said, his voice calm and measured. “Not had one of them for a while” he laughed as the officer joined him.

  “Do we tell the King?” asked the officer.

  “What and disturb the ceremony? Gods no, more than my life’s worth. I’ll send a message to the general and we’ll just have another game of dice before he replies and tells us to throw a few arrows at them” he shrugged as he turned and walked away.

  The officer smiled as he continued to watch the troops lining up. This part of the attack usually took a good hour so he turned and set off back to the small room where he had been discussing the dowry he would get for marrying his daughter to Patricius the baker. Good fresh bread every day from now on he thought as he set off with a smile.

  ****

  Mella had confirmed that despite the stupidity of Fabius the tunnel remained a secret and the noise within the temple suggested that it was rapidly filling with the nobles of the city as they awaited the ceremony that was to be performed. Marcus had quickly been around the officers and given them final instructions, his curt words showing his anxiety as the final moments of the attack on Veii edged closer.

  Behind the long wooden walls which had been built to shield the entrance to the tunnel from the city he now stood with his helmet under his arm. It felt strange to be going into battle without a shield. The ladders were despatched along the tunnel and Marcus felt his heart beating quickly in his chest as he nodded to Manlius, Narcius, Caelio and Mella, each man nodding grimly as he turned to the tunnel and stepped into the darkness, more than a thousand men primed to follow him, another thousand ready once the first attack had started.

  The tunnel was dark and cold and the men shuffled along slowly with their arms touching one wall at their sides and holding the belt of the man in front, heads bowed. Potitus had been clear to all the officers and Centurions that they must progress slowly along the tunnel to avoid any loud noise which might alert the people in the city above them. Minutes of shuffling stretched as the men moved slowly along like some giant snake with thousands of legs, the slow trudge muffled by the darkness. At the front of the snake Narcius held the long rope which was attached to the wall and guided him to the entrance to the well. Several guards stood with small oil lamps at set intervals, the men nodding as the long, slow, line of men moved past them. Eventually Narcius reached the foot of the well, the light streaming from above despite the loose cover that had been placed over the stone aperture.

  As Marcus approached he saw the feet of the ladders stretching up into the light and his heart quickened again as the anticipation started to build in him. The noise of drums and other musical instruments began to drift into the tunnel as he reached the foot of the first ladder and peered up to see a circular opening with three loose fitting planks set across it. Narcius beckoned to the ladder and both men started to climb, one to the left and one to the right. As they approached the top Marcus could hear words bein
g spoken in the Etruscan language, the priests were intoning Uni Teran and various other gods to bring safety to the city. With his knowledge of the ceremony he guessed they had a full ten minutes until the bull was brought to the sacrificial stone, assuming they were following the Disciplina correctly. He put his eye to the gap between two of the planks, but could see nothing but the ceiling directly above and a little to the right. He looked to Narcius who motioned to move the planks a little to see if they could see anything and Marcus nodded taking his helmet off and passing it to Narcius carefully. Tilting his head he placed his forehead against the wood, angling as much as he could so that he could see as much as he could possibly see without lifting the wood too much. He pressed his hands against the wood and gently lifted the planks, slowly breathing out as he did so, his teeth clenched. The wood was light and moved easily, his pressure suddenly releasing as it moved too quickly. What he saw made him grin, Narcius frowning with questions in his eyes. Marcus pressed harder and the planks lifted, joined together by two long strips across their top. The entrance to the well was surrounded by a series of large screens, broken chairs and odd pieces of wood sat against the wall to his rear, but he could not see out into the temple and therefore they could not see in to see him. He wondered if he dare attempt to climb out and nodded to Narcius, using his eyes to suggest he lifted the planks at his end of the well, which he did slowly, allowing Marcus to take another step upwards, slowly lifting the wooden cover as Narcius did the same, his eyes showing relief as his head rose above the edge of the low wall. Silently Marcus took the weight of the cover and placed it along the edge of the well, sitting on the wall before lifting it to the floor and placing it on a sack which was thrown behind the dark screens. They were in.

  ****

  Potitus called the scorpions forwards as men with heavy screens ran, in pairs, up the long slope towards the far end which was within arrow range of the walls. As they ran missiles fell all around them, most hitting the screens and standing proud as the men edged the screens forwards, more slowly as they got closer to the wall. More screens followed, this time with the scorpions which would line the edge of the ramp. Potitus knew it was futile, but they had to make is look like a full scale attack. The ramp was on his left, though he remained far enough back from the front edge to maintain a good view of the walls to his left and right. He looked over his shoulder and waved to Vulso who, on the command, sent archers forwards, their wicker screens held out in front of them as they scattered into the dead ground before the walls, their short steps bringing cheers from the Romans who stood in their thousands watching the start of the attack.

  Potitus marvelled at the men who were giving their lives for their city. He watched as archers placed their screens and then bobbed up and down, searching targets before letting loose a series of arrows, none of which struck home despite the efforts being expended. The first distinctive thump of the scorpions brought his attention back to the ramp, the men on the wall diving for cover as the heavy shafted arrows crashed into the parapet or sailed over the top to inflict untold damage inside the city. The legionaries had been told to load slowly and not to waste too many of the precious missiles which took an age to build and were extremely expensive. Regardless of these facts he smiled at the effect they had, men diving for cover as the sound presaged each attack. The battle had started with the usual slow attacks, but to make things appear real Potitus knew that he must commit men to the walls, men who would undoubtedly die at his command. He watched the walls looking for the right moment to launch his first attack, the men with the long ladders already edging forwards through the ranks of Romans. He saw that the Etruscans had also seen them, men moving across the walls and spears clustering at the likely attack points.

  On the far right Scipio and his horsemen were cantering along the outside of the walls to draw fire at them in a vain attempt to distract the attention of the defenders. As the ladders appeared Potitus noted the sudden surge of movement at the walls, helmets and spears appearing in their hundreds where moments before there had only be one or two. Good, he thought, they are preparing to man the walls. His mind went to Marcus and the tunnels and he wondered whether they had reached the end yet and whether they had started the attack. He raised a hand to the men with the ladders and their Centurion raised a hand in reply, calling his men forward into a silent trot before the screams of encouragement of the standing Romans split the air along with the sudden increase in arrow fall from the men behind their wicker screens. Potitus prayed to Mars war-bringer that they win this day.

  ****

  Vanimus stepped from his gilded throne, the carved snakes painted in gold for the occasion and his red robes flecked with gold thread resplendent in the light of the temple. He felt the power of his position as the hundred richest and most powerful leaders in the city sat watching him. A surge of pride welled up inside him as he stepped up to the sacrificial stone and the great doors to the temple were opened, the intricate bronze carvings catching the light as they slowly opened to reveal the dancing priestesses and the white bull being led by a thick bronze nose ring. The animal raised its head slightly as it was paraded into the temple, he hoped that whatever it has been given to make it dozy was working, a bad display during sacrifice could put pay to all his schemes. As the bull entered the temple the doors closed slowly behind, the dull thud of their closing resounded around the temple as the animal moved forwards and the dancers remained outside.

  The chief of priests raised his arms, speaking lowly so as not to alarm the animal as it was brought through the crowd of seated nobles to its inevitable death. As the words were spoken he heard a clatter from the corner of the room to his left, his eyes flicking towards the old well which was surrounded by screens as it was most of the year before the priests sudden calling to Uni Teran was repeated by all in the room and his attention was brought back to the bull. The animal eyed him suspiciously as he stepped down towards it and his kingly robe was removed and placed back on his throne by one of the junior priests, the white robe of his religious office was then draped across his shoulders. He noticed one of the priests giving the bull a handful of some foodstuff or other to keep it calm as it stood, the whites of its eyes showing periodically as it stared at the strange scene around it. The bull took the food and munched happily as the king approached slowly and was given the iron knife, its thick handle carved into a winding snake emblem, the symbol of his family. He turned to the nobles as he spoke.

  “Uni Teran accept this gift and guide us with thy wisdom. Give your people the sure knowledge that your will is to destroy these men from Rome who stand at our gates and empty our sacred lake, destroying our farms and starving your children.” As he spoke the last words he bent down and used the long knife to slice up and into the throat of the bull as two priests gripped its sides to stop it kicking out. Whatever sedative the priest had given the beast worked as the animal made no sound but simply collapsed slowly to its front knees momentarily before falling onto its side, the blood pooling in dark circles as its life bled from its veins. The priest acted immediately and pulled the carcass to the stone altar, the chief priest taking the long knife from the king and slicing the heart from the beast and placing it in a silver dish. He then cut a long and bloody series of entrails from the stomach and, covered in red gore, he placed them on the sacrificial stone before removing the liver and placing it next to them. The silence in the temple stretched as the priest intoned the mother goddess and worked his way through the reading of the liver, using specially prepared oils and candles as he did so. The king stood watching the audience, seeing their gullible faces as they stared in awe at the priest as he prepared to announce the reading, his assistant theatrically smiling and nodding as the priests sliced the heart and held it up to the light. The king knew what was coming next and prepared to step forward as the priest turned to the audience, a look of wonder on his face.

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  Ch
apter 22

  The ladders slumped as the men fell from the wall, several not moving once they hit the floor as hundreds scurried back from the third attempt to scale the walls. Each attack had been cheered by the Romans and followed by deep groans as cheers rang out from the defenders as soon as the attackers turned and fled. Potitus saw two defenders fall from the walls with arrows in their necks and his lip curled as they fell to their deaths. Roman dead lay all along the wall front, men who had not known about the tunnels or the attack that Marcus was leading. Potitus felt no pity for them, just a sense of honour that their lives would help Rome to victory. The last attacker limped to the lines and was cheered through by the phalanx of men. The attack had been going for a full twenty minutes now and Potitus hoped that Marcus was inside the city, though no sign came from within that anything untoward had occurred. A sudden dread came over him, a cold shiver down his spine as he tapped his sword three times to avert the evil eye, an old soldier’s tale but one that he reacted to unconsciously. He looked over to Scipio who raised his arm and waved, Potitus nodding to the trumpeter who blew a long note and another attack of ladders set off towards the walls, the enthusiasm of the men remarkable as they had seen all previous attempts fail.

  ****

  Marcus cursed as the legionary dropped his helmet into the well, two men clambering to catch it before it landed with a thump to the side of the flow of water below. He held his breath as he stared in anger at the man, his eyes to the floor, who had lost his helmet. Narcius gripped the man by the shoulder and gritted his teeth at him, the snarl more than enough to let the man know that, should they live through this attack, his life would be a series of menial tasks. Marcus simply shook his head and bent low to repel any attack which the noise had caused, but none came, thankfully. Twenty men had now climbed over the wall and stood silently behind the screens, the space nearly full. Marcus had whispered to Narcius that he should take ten men and hold the doors whilst he took another ten and attacked the king, but as he finished he heard something that held his attention and every man suddenly looked to him, jaws agape before he launched himself at the screens screaming at the top of his voice.