Dawn of The Eagle

by Francis Mulhern

  Marcus had sat down as Decimus had started to speak and, as instructed by his brother now was the time to wave Antonicus forwards.

  “And” said Lucius, standing as Decimus sat, “here is Antonicus to say if the plan is acceptable”. The effect of the arrival of the Augur on the soldiers, his white hood over his head and deep red cloak flowing in the light wind, was just as Lucius had expected. Antonicus carried a cloth covering a large object which he held out in front of him. Each man turned, without speaking, to watch as Antonicus came to a halt at the table, small specks of blood from the sacrifice he had completed showed on his hands and under his fingernails as he spoke.

  “The reading was as clear as it could be” he said with moist eyes looking straight at Lucius. “The gods approve the plan. They accept the sacrifice if we ensure that a libation of fifty goats and twenty barrels of wine are sacrificed after the battle”. This was a hefty price tag thought Lucius before he answered.

  “Then there is one more thing to add, gentlemen” he nodded to Marcus.

  Marcus stood once more and took the heavy object from Antonicus. He pulled the cloth away and spoke, looking to the skies “The men of the leading force will fight under this new standard, the standard of the Eagle” and he held up a carved eagle, painted in gold, with the letters ROMA carved in large letters below the spread wings and clawed feet of the bird. “The Eagle has brought us luck and we will honour her this day” he said as he handed the standard to Decimus as the officers around them stood and watched in wonder.

  “Gentlemen, let the march start” said Lucius with a glint in his eye.

  ********

  It had taken a lot of convincing for Marcus to join Decimus in the leading attack, but Marcus had pointed out that if the prophecy was about him then he would triumph, and the best place to be when this happened was in the forefront of the attack where his family could gain the most glory from the victory. Reluctantly Lucius had agreed.

  “How did you get this plan?” asked Mella in a whisper as he and Marcus trudged through the trees in the half darkness, the noise of thousands of men behind them hiding his voice from the others marching in tight formation so that they stayed as close together as they could.

  “What do you mean?” replied Marcus, his breath steaming in the cold air.

  “Just where did you get this idea from? I mean, you’re a just kid!” he looked to Marcus and stumbled over a fallen branch as he took his eyes from the ground, swearing in a hoarse whisper as he did so.

  “I don’t know” he replied. “It just came to me when I weighed up the options. I was thinking that if Comus’s army is breaking up and the siege is nearly done at the fort he would want a quick victory before he sent everyone home for the winter, even moreso if his allies are leaving already. If we reinforce the fort he will be forced to attack quicker than he had planned, especially if he thinks there is a large relief force coming from Avaenti.” His breath was coming faster now as the pace of the march and his speaking took its toll on him. “So I surmised that to exploit his weakness we had to get more troops into the fort before the army gets into position. If we can get into the fort and bolster the defences, forcing Comus to attack, we will create a platform for the main army under Magnus to attack his rear, skirting the main camp and hitting Comus directly in his own warband. This will create the maximum confusion. Once the Aequians turn to face the new, bigger, threat we will march from the fort and attack then on two fronts”.

  “Genius” said Mella, clearly impressed. “I hope it works just like you say lad”. He added, nodding as he spoke and kissing the bracelet to Fortuna he wore on his wrist. “The lads like the Eagle idea as well” he half grinned. “They are sure getting jumpy these days and it’s a very clever touch” he added glancing to Marcus who was also smiling. “That bird is bringing us a lot of luck so far”. Mella knew nothing of the prophecy of the Eagle and Marcus was under strict instructions to say nothing to anyone until the time was right and the issue of Postumius had been resolved.

  “Well it seems to have been lucky for us so far” he whispered. As he spoke the man to his right gave a grunt and Marcus turned to see he had hit his head on a low branch. The noise of the men stomping through the bracken and breaking branches all around him was very loud. Already Decimus had castigated those closest to him telling them this wasn’t a race and they needed to tread carefully. Marcus was learning the hard way that a night march could turn into a farce quite quickly. Ahead Decimus had stopped and turned to sign the signal for the troops to halt. Along the line behind him the senior soldiers did the same and slowly the noise of men crashing through the undergrowth stopped. The Centurions came forwards to see what was happening and get their orders and Marcus tagged onto the back of a group of three as they passed him, each man smiling at Marcus as he did so.

  “All here?” he asked as the men counted off by touching the shoulder of the man to their left and came to twenty three, the number of senior soldiers leading the raid. Decimus waved his vine cane in the general direction they were heading. “If the calculations are right we are about an hour from the place we are aiming for” he said in a low voice, his face almost totally hidden in the dark with only the small light reflecting from his helmet making it clear where he was. “The scouts will be back in a bit so we rest here for a while until we know how the land lies. Tell the men to rest in full kit and be ready to march at a moment’s notice. When we march out we go really really slowly” he exaggerated these words as his featureless face turned around the circle of men looking at him. “I want complete silence. Anyone making a noise will be on a charge when this is over, and believe me I will find out who it is and I won’t be happy” he said menacingly as he swished his cane against his thigh. There were some murmurs amongst the assembled men before Decimus dismissed them and turned to Marcus.

  “Marcus, stay here will you? Is Mella with you?” At this Mella had replied that he was and had steered Marcus forwards against the tide of men turning back to carry out Decimus’s orders.

  “Damned dark” grumbled Decimus as he sat with his back to a large tree. “I hate night marches, so much trouble and so difficult”. Marcus’s quick mind was already thinking of solutions to the problem when Decimus growled at a soldier to his left, “get the jug and bring that bread from my pack”. At the noise of the man fumbling in Decimus’s marching pack Marcus spoke.

  “What’s the matter Decimus? He asked, not sure whether he was looking at Decimus or not as the light through the trees had suddenly disappeared as the moon went behind a large cloud.

  “It’s likely we will end up slightly out of position when we arrive at the edge of the forest. That’s the trouble with night marches, you can never be totally sure that you are following the right path. I need the scout to get us back on track, but he’s late and I’m hoping he’s not been caught by the Aequians” he said, his voice trailing away. Marcus wasn’t sure what to say so said nothing, the darkness enclosing them becoming cold now that they had stopped marching. He shoved his hands into his tunic and closed his fists to keep his fingers warm. The bread was handed out and Marcus felt unnerved by the darkness surrounding them as he slowly chewed the thick, hard, bread.

  “Have you sent another scout to look for the scout?” asked Mella through a mouthful of bread.

  “Yes. And he’s not back either, that’s why I’ve stopped.”

  He paused before continuing as a cold breeze shook the leaves of the trees around them, making them all peer into the distance. “I’m going to get Cossus and some of his lads to go ahead and get the position right, but I need to know if we are on track or off it, and by how far”. Marcus heard him bite into the bread and munch on it before he spoke again. “If we cock this up it could mean we lose the element of surprise. If that happens” his voice trailed “we will be cut to pieces by the Aequians” the gloom in his voice becoming evident as he shuffled his sitting position next to the tree.

  Marcus was just about to speak when the
y heard a snap from ahead of them in the trees. The soldier stood beside the tree next to Decimus hooted twice, mimicking an owl, and the response of three hoots came back instantly. Before the reply had finished Decimus was on his feet and clapping the soldier on the shoulder, whispered “six men either side to check it out, scouts for fifty yards” at which a group of soldiers silently dispersed into the darkness.

  The silence was palpable as they waited for the next noise or action. Marcus saw shadows in every direction, his mind jumping at any tree movement as light from the bright moon above them peeked through the tree branches and made his mind race. Without warning three men appeared by the tree, the silence in which they had moved across the floor of the forest stunned Marcus and he let out a low gasp as the faces of the men appeared next to Decimus. Instantly Marcus felt ashamed that he had reacted in such a way and he breathed slowly and deeply to catch his breath as he leant forwards to hear the scouts report.

  “Bang on line, sir” he whispered. “No more than twenty five minutes steady walk, so maybe an hour at the most with the weapons” he added. “No sentries, no traps, nothing” he continued quietly as he gave his report. “Sorry, I was late, sir” he suddenly added “but I got some information that you might find useful. The fort is still standing but, if I remember rightly from the last reports, the Aequians have moved further forwards. I would suggest they are preparing a dawn attack”.

  “Bugger” said the disembodied voice of Decimus as the darkness became almost total for a split second. “Which tower are they facing” he added as the noise of his slapping his vine cane against his thigh sounded from next to the tree.

  “Western, sir. Same one as the earlier reports, looks like it’s about to collapse. Lots of fires there so it’s well lit up and they’ve cleared the ground for the attack” added the scout who was now drinking deeply from a water pouch.

  “Excellent” said Decimus “that will help us get to the gates quicker”. He turned to the second scout “Get the officers back here quick as you can lad. And well done” he ordered, turning back to Marcus and Mella. “Marcus?” he asked into the darkness.

  “Here”.

  Decimus turned to where the reply had come from and waited a moment as the scout disappeared into the trees behind them. “When we go you stay with Mella and you don’t stop for anything. Understand?”

  “Yes” came the monotone reply as silence and darkness engulfed them again.

  Chapter 18

  The body of the Greek had been found, along with several of his bodyguards, the day after Postumius’s meeting and had been greeted with shock by the community of money lenders to which he belonged. The word on the street, according to Fasculus’s spies was that he had bad debts with another money lender based in Campeva, far to the South. To feed the story and move suspicion away from Postumius, Fasculus had murdered a well-know debt collector and reluctantly left two of his Greek gold coins on his body. The body had been found in Cacus’s cave on the Palatine hill by a servant of a local dignitary, paid to do so by Fasculus. So far there had been no reports of anyone asking questions or seeking any other truth to the man’s death, and his passing was soon forgotten as the usual round of money-grabbers bayed for his wares through the law courts, a welcome distraction as far as Fasculus was concerned.

  As he rounded the corner by the Temple of Saturnus at the foot of the Capitoline hill, the statue of the god, with its veil and scythe, seemed to watch him as he trudged across to the forum. Fasculus looked back over his shoulder at the temple which housed the Republics reserves of gold and silver, smiling at the heavy guards with long pikes and thick broadswords who stood guard over the building. He’d taken a very narrow back alley to get here so that he wasn’t spotted on the main street and was conscious that, even though it wasn’t as busy at this hour of night, it was still a busy location. The rider had returned from Avaenti with information which he needed urgently to ensure his activities for Postumius could continue unabated.

  This rider was turning out to be good, he mused, as he skirted a crowd of angry merchants arguing about the price of cloth at a stall. He seemed to be living a charmed life bringing messages into and out of Rome, and Fasculus wondered if he was in the pay of another Patrician who had deeper pockets than his benefactor.

  Gatto was meeting the rider on the steps of the Curia Hostilia, an open meeting place which was used widely by the Roman populous to listen to speeches from leading politicians and to debate Republican themes. This evening a crowd had gathered to listen to a debate on the state of roads in the capital which was getting noisier as Fasculus got closer to it. The open space led to smaller chambers inside the three-windowed building where senators often debated taxes and legal issues of the day. Today the crowd were meeting outside the building, facing the long length of marble arches running along the buildings front. Fasculus watched from a distance as the rider clasped arms with Gatto and then blended into the crowd cajoling the speaker who was arguing for higher taxes for more road maintenance, his classic orator’s stance almost comic to Fasculus’s cold mind.

  “Well?” asked Fasculus as Gatto joined him on the corner of the Forum a few minutes later.

  “Seems the Furii have left Avaenti to support Scipio as we thought. He delivered your message and got this in return” added Gatto, handing a small tablet to Fasculus as the two men turned and headed back across the forum towards the house of the vestal virgins from where they would start the slow climb up the Palatine towards the temple of Jupiter Strator, the chosen deity of the Postumii family. Fasculus read the tablet, careful that no-one, not even Gatto, could see the words written within. As he walked along he glanced at Gatto and said quietly “well, he’s coming back. Should be here in a day or so” he added with a grunt.

  Postumius had called for Fasculus to meet him at the temple at sun-down and, as they were a little early he said “Let’s get a drink, I need one”. Gatto grunted happily, hoping his boss was paying the bill.

  An hour later the two men were standing in the chilly air outside the temple when Postumius and his father came out wrapped in thick woollen cloaks and surrounded by a number of burly ex-legionaries to escort them back to their villas. Postumius and his father said their goodbyes and Fasculus waved to the guards to go ahead and keep the road clear.

  “Did he say yes?” asked Postumius as Fasculus fell in beside him and handed him the tablet, his steady gait unaffected by the large quantity of wine he had drunk over the past hour.

  “He will be back in Rome within two days and would welcome an audience to consider what happens next” said Fasculus flatly, staring straight ahead as they started the final climb up the steep hill. “He also wants to know more about the prophecy, specifically how it is clear that the prophecy is aimed at you” he looked nervously to Postumius, whose facade remained stoic, “and which barbarians are mentioned” he added as his sandal slipped on some mud on the road causing him to fall a step behind.

  Postumius grunted acknowledgement but said nothing. In his mind Postumius was starting to think that maybe Mamillus was the man to meet with the latest recruit to the inner circle. Mamillus held the money for the venture and would profit from it well when the Republic was crushed and the Patricians saved Rome, but he needed this man with him. His influence was great and his family had been staunch supporters of the Republic over the last seventy years. Having him join the cause would create a groundswell of energy among the Patrician families and would surely give it credence beyond any other family. He stopped suddenly, causing Fasculus and all the guards to half draw their clubs, cudgels and daggers from their secret pockets as they stared wildly around them at the passing crowd. “What is it?” asked Fasculus urgently.

  “I need the rider to go back to the Tribunes army with an important message” said Postumius. “Bring him to my house immediately”.

  ---

  Cossus lay flat on his belly watching the fires that circled the fort. He had counted over eighty men standing guard i
n the land between his position in the long grass in front of the forest and the fort itself some three hundred yards away. It would take his soldiers little more than a minute to run the distance to the gate to announce their arrival, but he wondered if they would get through the guards. He scanned the ground for pits or stakes which the soldiers could miss and trip on, but could see none in the half light of the coming dawn. He was aware that the main camp was only a thousand yards to his right and a smaller camp containing a few hundred men was the same distance to his left, closer to the crossroads. It was exactly as the scout had said and Cossus felt a smile come to his face at the thought of seeing his cousin again. He made up his mind and crawled slowly backwards in the grass, careful to keep his body as flat as possible.

  Decimus stood behind the thick trunk of a tree with the officers, waiting for Cossus’s assessment. The latest scout report suggested that Magnus, Lucius and the main force were within an hour’s march, so they had to attack soon or the plan might not work exactly as designed, they had to get into the fort before dawn to get the focus of the main Aequian army onto the fort and away from the forest. The darkness clung to the trees around them and Decimus had ensured that the army stayed well back in the trees so that no reflection was given out from the myriad of fires lit around the fort. Cossus crawled across to them and knelt on one knee in the centre of the circle of officers.

  “The sentries are spread thinly as the scout said” he whispered, looking around the faces of the men. “As agreed, I will take four men and run for the gate. There seem to be no traps or pits but we won’t know until we get going” he added quickly. “Once at the gates we will send the signal once we know that they are ready to open the gates”. The plan was simple. Five men would run to gates and get Scipio to open them. Only when the gates were ready to open would the remaining three thousand men start their quick march to the fort. Timing was everything, to arrive to closed gates would leave three thousand men with their backs to the enemy and almost certain death. It would be hard enough to get them all into the fort before the Aequian camp came to life and attacked them, to leave them stranded outside would be a disaster and would leave the main army at risk too.