“Check the other walls for a simultaneous attack and if there is no sign of any bring extra men over here with arrows and spears” he said as the older man grinned and disappeared off down the ladder and into the streets.
The Gauls were working themselves up into a fury, the screaming growing as the war horns started to blow their long notes, each horn screaming like a dying bull. Quintus screwed his eyes as the sound reached a crescendo and the Gauls were calling louder than the damned horns. Then they started to run, like a great flood of sun-browned and pink flesh, at the walls.
“Gods” Quintus said before gaining control of himself and standing to call the men along the wall into action. He’d expected a slow advance behind shields with covering fire from spears or slingers, but the Gauls, most of them half-naked, simply screamed and ran at the walls. His eyes were drawn to the bouncing breasts of several Gallic women as a line of them, swords in hand, charged behind their men folk screaming in their high-pitched tones.
“Attack them slingers” Quintus called as boys, and some women, whirled stones around their heads and threw them at the advancing Gauls. Most missed. The missiles bounced uselessly in the dust to start with but after a few shots a few Gauls fell, and of those that did most got up and continued to limp or run at the walls, screaming as the deep horns grated out the long continual note that assaulted the ears. Quintus noted that the fast moving Gauls were widely dispersed and marvelled at the tactics, ideal to reach the walls with the minimal of loss, the wide gaps between runners making targets difficult to hit. He nodded appreciatively, but he knew that it would be a different story when they reached the walls.
He watched, warily, as the remaining Gauls stood and cheered their kin on as they charged across the three or four hundred yards to the walls, small groups beginning to form as they neared their destination. At least the rest weren’t attacking, he thought as Demetrius arrived back and said that this was the only attack. More spears were passed forwards and Quintus nodded as arrows began to fly from the walls, more Gauls falling to these than to the slingers.
“They must be mad” Demetrius said as he eyed the attacking Gauls.
“Totally” Quintus replied gripping a spear and half leaning over the wall to get his footing before the first attacker arrived. He mimicked the throwing action and edged to his left slightly before nodding to Demetrius who was watching him intently.
The first Gallic wave arrived five men deep and a hundred or more across, other, more slow-running, waves not far behind. Quintus hefted the spear as the first Gaul to get past the hail of arrows and stones jumped into the ditch and turned with a twist to place his back to the foundation stones, the second man scrambled onto his shoulders in a quick, well-practiced movement, and a third started to climb up onto the two-man ladder. The fourth and fifth men dodged left and right but threw stones and spears at the men on the walls. The same scene was playing out along the wall front, the long notes of the Gallic horns screaming deafeningly in the background. Quintus thrust the spear at the approaching Gaul, his long sword swinging across his body to batter the spear out of his hand as Demetrius launched his spear straight at the Gaul. The tip burst through the man’s chest, the wooden shaft wavering momentarily as the man screamed and gripped the spear, pulling it from his body despite it being a killing blow. Both Quintus and Demetrius held their breath for a second before the man, the deep tide of red now foaming from his chest, was dragged down by another Gaul who was scrambling past him and instantly leapt from the cupped hands of the second man in the human ladder to thrust his heavy iron sword into the face of Demetrius before falling back down into the ditch. Demetrius’ open mouth was smashed by the iron and his body fell backwards with the force of the thrust, tipping onto the walkway and pouring blood from the orifice as the dying man’s legs kicked frantically. Quintus was momentarily shocked at the speed of the attack and the disastrous effect on the man next to him but reacted quickly, grabbing a spear and thrusting it into the space above the man below him as the next Gaul flew up at him, the spear taking the man through the shoulder as his sword fell away into the ditch, the man disappearing with a scream.
“More cover here” he shrieked as two men raced across and thrust their spears into the face of a Gaul who was clinging to the wall and scrambling his legs madly to get a purchase which would launch him over the top. He snatched his sword from its scabbard and leant over the wall, quickly pulling his head back as a spear thrust at him. The second wave of Gauls had arrived and were employing the same tactic to good effect. To his right Quintus saw that a Gaul had made the parapet and, screaming at the two men to hold their position, he raced across to the beleaguered defenders. As the Gaul drew his sword back and thrust it through the neck of a boy who was only shoulder height to the Gallic giant he raced in and ducked under the long backhand swing of the Gaul as he tried desperately to round on the rapidly advancing Quintus.
The Roman knew he had to get in close and charged forward in a crouch slicing his short sword across the giant’s ribs and feeling the clatter of bone after bone shattering as he grunted with the effort of the two-handed strike. The Gaul roared and span around striking Quintus on the head with the handle of his enormous sword and sending sparks across his vision. As he saw the second strike coming, he knew there was little he could do but drop to the floor and hope the blade missed. He twisted as he fell, and his back slammed into the wooden floorboards as the broad sword of the Gaul bit into the top of his helmet striking the wooden floor and the tip of the helmet almost simultaneously as the body of the Gallic blade missed his head by inches. Quintus gasped as the sword struck him, but he managed to thrust his shorter sword straight up into the man’s groin which was straddling where he lay, the large man trying desperately to move his feet to get a better strike at the defender. The sword slid easily into the soft flesh as the man screamed, Quintus quickly sitting up as he pressed the sword home until he felt it hit something hard beyond the bones of the man’s pelvis. Blood streamed out of the man as he crumpled and collapsed on top of Quintus, whose ears were still ringing with the clash of the sword on his helmet. He gasped loudly as he felt the body being dragged from him as a Clusian hauled him to his feet.
“Amazing, sir” the boy said with a grin before a spear came straight through the arm which was holding Quintus, the boy staring at the spear in disbelief before fainting and falling to the floor.
Quintus dived to the right as a Gaul scrambled over the wall, his sword covered with the blood of another dead Clusian defender who had peered over the wall too soon. Blinking rapidly Quintus grabbed the spear from the boy’s arm and thrust it at the Gaul, his mad laugh causing the Roman to suck in air quickly and shake his head to stop the ringing in his ears. The helmet had slipped to one side and he felt himself manhandled backwards by the soldier behind him who screamed and charged at the Gaul. The Gaul simply sidestepped the strike and thrust his sword through the soldier’s chest, gripping his throat with his free hand and yelling into his dying face. With only one eye able to see in the damaged helmet Quintus gripped the sides and yanked it from his head, the movement drawing the eyes of the attacking Gaul to him.
“You” snarled the Gaul. Gattric grinned an evil, toothy, grin at Quintus and pushed the dead body of the soldier backwards as he stepped over the lifeless form of the speared boy and advanced on him. Quintus scrambled to his feet, slipping twice before he found his footing and clutching at his sword as he moved backwards.
“Well, well man of Rome” the Gaul said, his eyes lighting up. “The gods have given me two prizes today” he said as he grunted and swung the heavy blade at Quintus, who stepped back and clattered his shorter sword into the strike of the Gaul. The blades were very different, the weight of the Gallic blade swatting the shorter sword away easily as the Gaul stepped in for the kill. Quintus was too quick for him, knowing that he needed to be closer to his man and moving towards rather than away from the advancing strike, which caused Gattric to pull the swing slig
htly and try to angle it down, which Quintus was ready for. The shorter blade was more manoeuvrable close to and Quintus thrust the hilt back up and smashed it into Gattric’s face, the beard almost tangling in his hand as it caught the hilt on its way through. Blood spattered into Quintus’ eyes as he leapt forwards and head-butted the Gaul, his sweaty, naked, torso slapping into his face as he twisted to grip Quintus on the way through.
The two men locked eyes as they held each other’s sword arms with one hand whilst trying to bring their other arms into place to attack their opponents as they grappled along the walkway, the strength of the larger Gaul quickly starting to tell and Quintus buckling to one knee.
“Weak, Roman. That’s what you are” Gattric spat. His blood-lined eyes stared crazily at Quintus as he freed his hand and pulled a long dagger from his belt, kicking Quintus in the knee with his right foot as he thrust him to the floor. Quintus clenched his jaw as he fought back, pushing the sword arm away and dodging to avoid the first strike of the Gaul’s dagger which sliced along his cheek causing a burning pain which sent a scream from Quintus’s lungs.
Gattric laughed as Quintus screamed and he sank his teeth into Quintus’ forearm, spitting blood into his face as Quintus buckled under the onslaught, his ears almost too deaf to hear the screams of laughter coming from the Gauls mouth. But then Gattric’s face twisted and he lurched forwards as if he had been shoved violently from behind. Quintus took the movement against his left shoulder and rolled the giant away as best he could as the man grappled at his arm and caught him with the flat of his sword as he fell across his body. His right hand was free, and Quintus gladly accepted the luck the gods had given him as he ripped the iron blade into Gattric’s belly, grunting as he pushed the blade through and felt it leave his back. A warm gush of his blood soaked into Quintus’s sleeve and then poured to the wooden floorboards as the man seemed to lose his energy, his eyes searched Quintus and then looked angrily back over his shoulder.
Quintus grunted, the weight of his assailant almost too much for him to hold before he slipped against the wall and used its leverage to throw the Gaul off him. As he grunted and shoved the dead weight off, Quintus saw a smiling face staring back at him, his curved blood-soaked blade held across his chest and his eyes watching like a hawk. Aengus cocked his head and smiled to Quintus before turning around to shout over the noise of the battle raging along the walls.
“It’s the Roman ambassador” he screamed above the noise as he stood up and pointed at Quintus. “He’s killed Gattric. The Roman Ambassador has broken his oath” he yelled as Quintus stared mutely up at the Gallic Druid. More calls came from the walls, the noise of the battle starting to dissipate as Aengus leant in to Quintus and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, ambassador” he said.
************
Chapter 3
“Have they finished bathing?” Sulpicius asked, his long nose and light blue eyes staring at the messenger.
“Yes, sir. I have offered them food and drink and they are all in your tablinium” replied the tall athletic man.
“Excellent. Return and inform them I will be with them shortly.”
Sulpicius had been serving as military tribune for the past seven months and had intercepted the return of Quintus Fabius from Clusium only hours before. Since then he had been pacing his rooms until the man and his brothers had spent some time bathing and cleaning themselves for the more formal meeting, they would hold to discuss the next steps for the arrival of the Gauls. He smiled knowing that gaining valuable information from Quintus on the details of the Gallic invaders would help his career two-fold. Firstly, he would have the upper hand on Tricostus. He smiled at the thought. Tricostus had been spending his money in every bar on every corner to try and find out more information about the battle at Clusium and the claim that the Gauls were making regarding Quintus Fabius. Having first-hand information would be extremely useful in influencing the Senate and furthering his career. Secondly by allying himself with the Fabius brothers he would gain the friendship of the whole Fabius clan, one of the oldest and proudest families of Rome. He felt a shiver run through his body at the thought and clenched his fists in anticipation as he considered what the cost would be and how he could profit from the whole affair. Taking out the note he had received days earlier from Quintus he re-read the details.
Since the initial battle at Clusium the Gauls had fallen back and demanded the head of Quintus Fabius, claiming that he had breached the law of nations concerning ambassador neutrality and that he should be handed over to them. The Clusians had, naturally, refused to give him up and eventually managed to smuggle him from the city. The leader of the Gauls had raged at the news that the man had left Clusium and had sent an envoy to Rome to demand that Fabius be released to them. The Gallic delegation was only a day away from the gates of Rome and due to meet the Senate just after mid-day on their arrival. Since then news had been sparse, but a number of small battles around Clusium had resulted in continuing losses for the Clusians, though the Gauls had apparently not yet sacked the city.
Of course, Sulpicius had been doing the rounds with the Senators, wining and dining the influential men who would help to make decisions and swaying their thoughts towards his own. The cost had been enormous but the benefits… he licked his lips as the thoughts ran deliciously through his mind. His family had seen hard times until recent years, but now their gods were shining on them. He glanced to the small statue in the alcove and wandered across, tipping a small measure of his best wine at the feet of the goddess as he mumbled an honest prayer for luck and fortune. So far, he had Longus, Cossus and Cursor on his side as well as Atratinus and Javenoli. Javenoli had been sick these past months, the affliction causing him to lose a great deal of weight but also to lose some of the strength of his mind that had maintained his position of power for so many years. Sulpicius smiled. Javenoli was a powerful man in Rome, but his grip had slipped as he had been on his sick bed, the majority of Senators and would-be politicians avoiding him for fear of contracting something nasty. But he had visited him, and he had learned a lot from the old fox. He returned his mind to the note and scanned the final comments. Seven ambassadors from the Gauls, the brother of their leader named Belinus led the deputation with their priest, which they called a druid. He frowned at the strange word before reading the final line. The Gauls fight with little or no armour and despite their enormous size they can be easily defeated.
The last two words reverberated in his mind. Easily defeated. At last a chance to show Rome how he, as military tribune, could act. A victory, and maybe a triumph. He licked his lips thinking of the triumph of Camillus he had attended a few years before. Magnificent. The glory and honour. It’s a shame Camillus got too high and mighty and had to be brought down, he thought with a smirk, before dropping the message, draining his cup and heading swiftly out of the room to speak to the three Fabius brothers.
Entering the tablinium he opened his arms and called to the men with gusto. “Quintus. Caeso. Numerius” he said as he hugged each man as if they were long lost brothers. He noticed the new scar along the cheek of Quintus but avoided mentioning it as he offered more food and wine to the guests. Quintus looked tired after four days of sleeping in the hills before he returned to Rome, but Caeso and Numerius were well fed and had already spent several hours in deep discussion with Sulpicius and Cossus over the past day or so as they started to develop their plans.
“It is an honour to have such heroes in my house” Sulpicius said as he watched Quintus warily for signs of anger or surprise. If Caeso had played his part, he’d been bribed well enough for it, then Quintus would play along nicely.
“We are honoured” came the tired voice of Quintus as he sipped from the silver wine goblet and ate another honeyed date. “Your bathhouse is magnificent” he added with a stroke of his freshly cleaned hair as he smiled warmly at Sulpicius “and I hear” he glanced at Caeso “that you have been busy preparing for my arrival” he added with open eyes an
d a wide smile.
Sulpicius chuckled. So Caeso had played his part. The man was dumber than an ox but useful. “Indeed, my friend” he replied. “But let us eat first and discuss Clusium, I must hear of these Gauls and who they are. Tell me what really happened and whether the tales of them being giants is true” he said.
“Gods they are big buggers” Quintus said with a laugh which was echoed by both his brothers. “Do you remember Aemilius Castorius?” he asked as Sulipicus grinned and leant forward with a nod. “Well every one of them is half as big again as he was. Big, angry, dumb and useless” Quintus laughed.
“Really?”
“Sulpicius, they attacked a defended wall with naked men” he added with a shake of his head. “Hardly a stitch on any of them. But what they were” he reached for a chunk of warm bread “was fast. Strong and fast” he chewed the bread, his mouth working quickly, as Sulpicius nodded earnestly at the words.
Vae Victis Page 4