Dawn of The Eagle

by Francis Mulhern

  “Whoo hoo” screamed Mella as he watched the Aequian try to yell some curse at him before he fell, his perfectly thrown Javelin stuck right through the man, spitting him like the pig he was.

  “No?” cried Rufus, jumping up and peering over the wall before slumping back onto the parapet and reluctantly handing over his coin to a grinning Mella. “Gods you’re lucky” he added as Mella took another javelin and turned, ready to stand and attack again. Suddenly the wooden walkway shifted an inch, making all the men stood on it sway and stop in mid-action. The movement was followed by a chorus of cheers from the Aequians which rumbled into the distance as each Roman looked to their comrades with fear in their eyes.

  “Every second man clear the wall” came the decisive voice of Decimus as he strode across tapping men on the shoulder, to which they instantly ran away to the ladders at the corner of the tower. Decimus turned and waved to Scipio, who had climbed down into the centre of the camp and was discussing something with Marcus. Scipio replied with a thumb up, ordering the reserve unit to man the ground behind the wall and clearly explaining to Marcus that he could not go with them.

  Chapter 27

  As Comus watched his son ride off with a few of his trusted aides he turned to his chiefs. They had quickly informed him of the arrival of a great bulk of men, who had entered the fort at first light while he was away, and how they had formed battle lines and sent scouts off to search for any further reinforcements, but none of the scouts had yet returned. Comus fumed at their stupidity. He turned, called for a fresh horse and went to his tent to fetch his war sword and round shield, the one with the long red slash painted across it, which reminded him of the wound he had inflicted on the first man he had killed in battle. He smiled as he hefted the shield and picked his way through the tents to peer at the battle scene in front of him.

  “How long since we started to fill the ditches?” he asked his aide, who replied that it was about twenty minutes.

  “Good, get the knights to the rear to face the west tower and the main gate” he replied, shifting his weight on his horse as he mounted and looked to the officers around him. “The ditch will be full and we will ..” his voice trailed as a great shout erupted from the field and he swivelled to see what was happening. “What...?” he questioned without expecting an answer as five phalanx of men started marching at the Roman fort. He looked to his officers “Gomitius, get them back in line, now” he roared at a squat man with wide shoulders to his left who, even before he had saluted, had kicked his horse into a gallop and headed out into the quarter mile space between him and the marching army. The war horns called out their tunes, but confusion lay everywhere as some horns called attack and others called for the men to stand their ground.

  “What is happening” he growled, looking at the men around him, “come we need to get closer to the action” he said kicking his horse into a trot. He blood was up now that he had got his son back and it was time to finish these Romans, he thought, as he set off for the battlefield.

  ---

  Marcus stood and watched as the tower began to move. Inch by inch the building was starting to slip sideways as the Aequians dug and chopped at the weakened and burnt wood at the foot of the wall. The palisade started to buckle under the feet of the soldiers and nervous glances were exchanged across the length of the wall. Every effort Marcus had made to get to the walls had been blocked by Scipio, even the ceremony, which had had the desired effect on the men’s motivation, hadn’t been enough to get him close to the action. Scipio had even had the audacity to wander across to Marcus and ask him how the ceremony had gone, before informing him he must stay in the reserve ranks.

  He stood with his hands on his hips as he listened to the unmistakable crack of wooden boards splitting. The tower was leaning forwards now and slightly to one side, it wouldn’t be long before it and the wall surrounding it fell. He wondered if Lucius would wait to attack if the fort was over-run, or if he might even decide that to lose the fort and the men inside would be better than losing all of the Roman army and to disengage. He dismissed the thought.

  Scipio had set three lines of spearmen, strong Principe soldiers with thick breast-plates, ‘heart protectors’ as the men called them, behind the wall and tower on the west side. He had placed other units in similar positions around the fort as support, in case any other areas were breached, but the west was clearly more heavily defended. The noise from outside the wall had grown as the Aequians could feel the tide of the battle move towards them. Marcus was desperate to stand on the parapet, to see what was happening on the other side of the wall. He felt impotent standing next to the standards in the centre of the camp, the men around him older and wealthier with heavy armour and thick rectangular shields. These men, he knew, didn’t see much of any battle. They were used after the other ranks of Hastati and Principe had either smashed through the enemy or the enemy had smashed through them. The grey haired noble stood two spaces to his left continued to wipe his blade with a thick cloth, the shine glinting in the early morning sun and sending reflections out across the wall ahead of them, but it was clearly a new blade and never used before. Next to him another man stood dispassionately chewing a thick rind of bacon, his water pouch hanging from a small notch on his shield. With his cool eyes and sombre expression he could be stood on his doorstep overlooking his fields, thought Marcus as his blood raged inside him. He needed to get up on the walls. How? How could he do it?

  With a loud crack one of the central stakes in the wall buckled as the axe man finally cleaved through the burned out wood. The walkway around the wall also buckled and one man fell backwards into the fort with a resounding thud as he hit the dirt bank below, instantly dragging himself to his feet but staggering in a dazed circle as he did so. Marcus heard Decimus bellowing to the soldiers to clear the wall, which was now visibly shaking with the renewed effort of the Aequians to tear it down, their cries and cheers echoing off the tower above them. He watched, his feelings of impotence intensified, as daylight broke through a section of the wall where it met the tower, a shaft of light shining into the interior of the fort like a beacon to the Aequians. The noise had grown and Marcus couldn’t hear the noises being shouted up on the wall as Rufus, Mella and Decimus ran for their lives amongst the knot of soldiers trying desperately to get away from the slipping tower. Marcus had taken an involuntary step forward and felt an arm on his shoulder. “Steady lad” said the voice of the old soldier to his left.

  Marcus whirled on him, anger burning in his eyes. “We must do something” he said, his voice urgent.

  “We do our duty Marcus Furius of Tusculum” said the man, his voice calm, betraying no emotion as he stood looking deep into Marcus’s eyes. “Our role will come soon enough, and when it does we will go eagerly to glory or death as befits our status” he added, his features and expression betraying no emotion whatsoever. Marcus looked at the man and saw a number of deep scars across the bare upper arms, his lower arms covered in leather thongs, which too bore the scratches of previous use. He knew the man was a veteran of many battles and Marcus felt like a boy again, this grandfather telling him to stay where he was and act like a true soldier. He took a deep breath, stood tall, a half head higher than the man at his side, and stepped back into his place, his face tight and teeth clenched. Marcus looked at the Eagle standard and shook his head, maybe today was not the day to do battle.

  Chapter 28

  “You work for me now” Javenoli said through a mouthful of pork, small droplets of fat playing on his lips as he chewed the soft pink meat. “In your time with Postumius you will have learned a great deal of things regarding all the leaders of Lucius Furius Medullinus’s army” he asked, looking to the man, who greedily ate his fill of the luscious meat.

  “Well, I kept a file on each one, and I have a few spies in each camp if that’s what you mean?” he grinned at the smile that appeared on the Senators face.

  “Excellent” he replied, wiping the fat from his grey beard as a
globule fell from his lips. “Then I want you to meet the rider at the inn on the road to Caisra as agreed. When you meet him, take the money to my house. You have good men?” he asked, his eye brows rising.

  “The best” grinned Fasculus

  “Excellent” said Javenoli again, his face showing his delight. “I trust you to take it all there” he said with a glance to Fasculus “but you know I will check it” he stated. He turned to look at Fasculus. “You were a good Centurion, but I hope you make a better spy” he added, his features cold.

  “Aye” said Fasculus, not sure how to respond, as the Senator continued.

  “I need you to get close to the Furius boy, become his confidant, his friend. How can you do that?” he asked, looking at the food in his hands before gnawing at a rib and then sucking noisily as he drew the soft marrow from its centre.

  “That’ll be hard with Decimus and that idiot Mella” considered Fasculus, his hand tapping the table lightly as he thought. “Be sad if they had an accident” he mused “be a loss to the army and to the boy” he said as a thin grin spread across his face.

  “Mmm” hummed Javenoli as he pushed the plate of leftover meat to Fasculus and picked up a large beaker of wine, its red clay ornamented grapes hinting at the sweet wine within. “That might be a good course of action” he said in a low, measured, voice.

  “Consider it done” said Fasculus, his mind wondering how he could make this happen.

  “But” continued Javenoli “death may not be the only solution” he added, carefully. He placed two Ases, thick bronze coins, on the table. “Take these and go and get drunk” he said as his voice drifted into his thoughts. “If Marcus Furius is the one chosen by this prophecy I must find a way to influence him so that he can serve my needs as well as his own” he pondered, his face a mask of concentration.

  “Don’t murder anyone just yet, my man” he added as he slid the coins across to Fasculus, his mind playing through a number of scenarios.

  Chapter 29

  Scipio and Rufus had moved to the central tower above the main gate beside Cossus. As they watched they saw a group of riders come to halt in the Aequian ranks directly in front of the gate, their leader clearly giving orders to the men around him as he watched intently as the wall was pulled to and fro by the mass of infantrymen below it.

  “It’s Comus” said Cossus “I’d swear it” he said, squinting at the Aequian leader.

  “Come on Comus, attack man. Do it” exclaimed Scipio “Do it now”. He nudged Cossus. “Any sign from Lucius?”

  “Yes the trap is set. I got the signal a few minutes ago. We just need the bulk of their army to here at the walls” he added, a grim expression on his face.

  “Maybe they need a little extra help?” added Scipio remembering something Marcus had done in their battle scenarios in the command tent.

  “What?” said Rufus and Cossus together as they looked to their commander. Scipio looked at them.

  “Against my better wishes” he said turning to look back into the fort at the men standing alert and ready to give their lives for Rome. “Rufus, run and bring Marcus Furius to the command tent” he added, turning back to the battle. “Yes, you heard me, go” he repeated as he turned back to see Comus waving to the leaders of the phalanxes of men to stand their ground. He needed to entice the Aequian commander to attack and Marcus’s plan from earlier might have some merit, but he needed the senior officers to agree to it.

  “Cousin” he said to Cossus, “Bring the first spears to me in the command tent quickly” he ordered bluntly, no time for pleasantries now he thought as Cossus saluted and ran off around the fort.

  When the last of the small group of men reached the command tent and spread out around the small model of the fort which had been set with the current positions of the attackers, Scipio turned his face to Marcus.

  “When we enacted some scenarios earlier this morning, you suggested two things regarding the wall Marcus Furius” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. “Firstly” he said pushing the wall outwards and moving the group of spear men behind it forwards “You suggested we use the destruction of the wall to our advantage, taking away any leverage the Aequians may have from its destruction”. He placed the wooden block of soldiers onto the wall “Like this?” he quizzed to Marcus’s nod. “But” he said, “we will cut the binding ropes to the tower. I think it will stand alone if it is not attached to the wall”, he looked intently at Marcus and then Rufus, who had some skill in engineering. Both men nodded.

  “Then” he looked at the small knot of horsemen he had inside the fort, and without looking at his senior officers he opened the main gate and wheeled the three hundred horses to the left, hitting the side of the phalanx of Aequians he had moved forwards into the gap created by the fallen wall.

  “This strike is audacious and will surprise the enemy” he said, looking up at the men around him, “and might force Comus to attack with his main force as the horsemen and defenders, here” he touched the soldiers on the wall “will pen in this phalanx” he tapped the block again “and try to kill them all. The phalanx will not have time to wheel left and defend itself and if it does the troops in the fort will go through the gap and finish them off.” He waved to the troops stood in phalanx across the table. “None of these troops are close enough to advance in time across this distance and if they get close enough the Equites will disengage and return through the main gate. If and when the main force of Aequians is here” he drew a line with his finger across the front of the fort “they will be close enough for Cossus to give the signal to Lucius Furius Medullinus to attack” he concluded, looking to the men, all of whom were staring fixedly at the table, the movements going through their minds. It was gamble and he knew it, but the earlier move Marcus had made had given him the idea. He smiled to Marcus, who turned to look at the scene on the table with a hidden grin.

  “Will it work? Will it get them to attack?” Scipio asked more urgently than he probably intended, looking at the men around him and placing both hands on the table, which creaked under his muscular weight.

  The old soldier who had stood next to Marcus in the rear lines moved a block of soldiers to the main gate as he spoke. “I like it” he said forcefully, dragging everyone’s eyes back to the table, “but we need more support here in case they cover the ground to the front gate more quickly than we have considered” he added, with a glance at Marcus and a smile which almost made Marcus grin back at him, but he held himself still as he considered the move.

  “Agreed” said Scipio “Thank you, Potitus” he smiled. “Anything else, quickly?” he asked, his eyes roving around the senior officers as they all nodded agreement to the plan.

  “Fabius” said Scipio to a short man with thick, wiry hair and deep set eyes stood across from him, “the Ambustii will lead the Equites. Get them ready to go on the second horn” he added as a number of the soldiers slapped Fabius Ambustus on the shoulder mumbling good luck to him.

  “Then, let’s go” he said, slapping Marcus on the shoulder and walking from the tent. As the men left the old soldier, Potitus, came across to Marcus and placed a hand on his arm, holding him back. “Marcus Furius” he said, as Decimus came and stood next to him unsure what Potitus was going to say.

  Potitus looked at Marcus and then at Decimus. “You are a remarkable young man” he said, his eyes not wavering from Marcus and his cold expression lightening. “I have a son of about your age. When we are back in our homes and the fires are burning on long cold winter nights, might you visit to discuss your tactics with him? He too is a bright lad, though he could do with some more meat on his bones” he said as his eyes moved over Marcus’s broad shoulders. “I am sure he would enjoy your company” he added, standing and waiting for a reply.

  “I, I would be” Marcus looked to Decimus who winked at him nodding vigorously, “delighted, sir” he said with a nod of his head. Potitus nodded “then I will make sure my man arranges it all. It is years since I met your father, maybe
I should request his attendance too. Would you be so kind as to mention it to him when you see him?” he added as he turned, slapped Decimus on the shoulder and left the tent with a broad grin on his face.

  “That’s a first” whispered Decimus conspiratorially, “his family were amongst the highest of the high in the old days of the Kings but fell from favour some years ago, some scandal or other” he waved his arm and shrugged trying to remember, but shook his head. “Anyway” he continued as he held Marcus back from leaving the command tent “he keeps himself to himself, but” he looked around quickly “he has a faction of followers in the senate who would be very helpful for your political career. If you get my meaning?” he nodded with his lips pressed together. Marcus looked at Decimus and laughed “let’s see if we get out of this scrape first shall we” as he stepped past him and headed for the tent flap.

  “What’s happening then?” Mella was waiting outside the tent for Marcus and Decimus to appear and quickly fell in beside them as they marched across towards the west tower. As they approached the tower Decimus explained the plan to him and ordered Mella to stay with Marcus at all times.