Marius' Mules V: Hades' Gate (53 page)

"Taste of their own bloody medicine" he declared as he mounted the stairs.

"Nice" Felix replied, nodding. "Bought us a little time. Question is: to do what?"

"We're doing an excellent job of holding them off" Pullo agreed, looking at the ladder men as they retreated in confusion once more. They were temporarily discouraged, but already the Gallic leaders were moving forwards, urging their forces to rally and attack. Ambiorix and his cronies were shrewd enough to recognise that despite the failure of the first siege tower and the likely fate of the others, they had enough momentum now to get men onto the walls and to allow their men to retreat and panic would destroy any advantage they had.

"Problem is: we can't hold them off forever. The leaders are turning them round already. We could have done with a bit more discord flowing through their ranks first."

The two centurions looked at one another and grinned.

"You always thought you should have been the first to reach primus pilus" Pullo said with a raised eyebrow. "Care to prove it?"

Vorenus laughed. "With respect to your rank, my friend, I could fight my way through that lot before you even got your sword unsheathed!"

"Come on then."

Felix shook his head. "That's suicide."

"Never underestimate a Sardinian, prefect. Tough mountain men, we are." Vorenus grinned as he drew his gladius.

"Has to be done" Pullo nodded. "We've got to give them something to think about - something that'll frighten them and make them think we're too dangerous to attack. I don't know whether you're aware, prefect, but we're almost out of ballista ammunition, and the reserve pila are already at the walls. You know as well as us that if we run out of both of those it's only a matter of time until they get over this wall, and then we're dead men."

Felix nodded. "You're right, of course. And maybe - just maybe - if you can cause enough trouble, we can get a messenger through and out to Caesar." He tapped his lip. "In fact, this might be the time to start doing something underhanded and devious. You two get your centuries formed up and ready to sally. I'm going to find Vertico and his cavalry."

As the prefect descended the steps, the two centurions looked at one another.

"He thinks you meant to take the men with you."

"That's 'cause he's never seen a Sardinian fight. Besides, we need a nice little gesture to put those two tribunes of the Tenth in their place."

* * * * *

Felix looked back at the couriers as he approached his customary position on the south rampart. It was one of the most unpleasant aspects of command, to send a man knowingly to his death, and this was worse than most. The nine men gathering by the west gate were doomed not only to death at the hands of the Nervii, but likely a most agonising, gruesome death by torture.

Well, eight of them.

Once again, he peered at them - eight men in light armour, four on horseback and four on foot, each ready to issue from the gate, fanning out in an attempt to make it through the enemy lines and to the open ground beyond to carry their sealed messages to the general. None of them would make it, and they likely knew that but brave as they were, they were prepared to try, for the survival of the legion.

And hovering in the shadow of the gate, close by, was their only true hope - and a damn dangerous hope it was too.

The last messenger of the nine was one of the auxiliary natives under the command of Vertico the Nervian. He was of a blood with the men outside the walls and dressed identically.

As the messengers dispersed and made their own attempts to make it through the army, the Nervian would disappear among his own people, able hopefully to make his way through and to the safety beyond. Felix's main worry was not for the man's survival, but for his loyalty. He prayed to Fides - a Goddess he rarely bothered with - that the man didn't simply discard the message and join the besiegers.

A roar went up from the legionaries on the southern defences, signalling that the two centurions had launched their attack. Simultaneously, the west gate jerked open and the eight Roman couriers rode and ran through it, making for the enemy rampart sections where the palisade had not yet been raised. Behind them, just as the gate shut, a figure in Gallic trousers and cloak emerged and disappeared into the ditch.

"Divine Fides watch him. Mars shelter him. Mercury grant him wings."

Turning his back, he climbed the steps to the southern palisade to watch the advance of Pullo and Vorenus and the first two centuries of his legion - men he had personally commanded as their centurion until this winter. He was totally unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

* * * * *

Pullo was faster than Vorenus remembered. It was a rare occasion these days when the two men - both natives of Feronia on the north-east Sardinian coast - had a chance to fight side by side, and certainly not without having to busy themselves with the command of a century of men apiece.

Having leapt from the top of the palisade, the two centurions had hit the embankment already curled and rolled to a halt on the narrow berm before the nearest ditch.

The sheer audacity of the move had taken the crowd of Gauls gathering in the Gallic gateway for the next attack so much by surprise that the pair had climbed the far side of the first ditch and dropped again to the middle one before any enterprising Celt decided to loose an arrow at them.

As they hurtled across the bottom of the second ditch, struggling to keep the shields they had borrowed from their men in position and not bouncing on the uneven turf, Pullo was already hefting his precious pilum ready to cast as he reached the rise at the far side of the ditch.

Vorenus shifted his grip as he put on an extra turn of speed to catch up, preparing to throw his own missile.

This time the Gauls were ready and half a dozen arrows were released as Pullo and Vorenus suddenly emerged over the lip of the middle ditch.

Fortunately, they had cut across at an angle and the arrows, released reflexively, went wild, aimed at the place the two centurions had been expected to appear.

As Pullo - first to crest the top - reached the surface, his arm came forward, releasing the pilum with careful aim. The seething mass of Gauls hardly required a great deal of care, but Pullo had marked his target before even leaving the walls. After all, they had to do enough damage to frighten the Gauls. The pilum caught a man at the fore - clearly one of the tribal leaders - bare-chested and waving a spear angrily, hurling him bodily back into the crowd. The Gauls barely had time to register the blow before Vorenus' own pilum disappeared among the press, piercing another Gaulish nobleman and drawing an agonised squawk. In response, the Gauls suddenly closed on the two wounded and downed leaders, shields coming up in a defensive arc.

More arrows flew - this time on target - only to whistle through thin air as the two men dropped into the outer ditch. Once again, they angled their approach so that, as they reached the far side, they appeared at an unexpected position. Their movements were carefully planned, despite appearances: as they clambered up the far side, they had arrived at the gentlest area of the slope, next to the Roman causeway that led directly to the south gate.

Pullo was still in the front and his sword came out with a rasp as he crested the rise and charged the Gallic army like some demon of the night.

Vorenus topped the slope a moment behind, just in time to see Pullo take a spear throw to the front. His friend's shield was already in the way, but the heavy Gallic weapon punched straight through the leather and wood, hurling Pullo backwards onto the ground. As Vorenus leapt forward, the Gauls were already rushing to envelop the fallen Roman. The junior of the two centurions felt a wave of relief as he saw Pullo struggling, the spear jammed through his discarded shield and wedged between the bronze plates of his belt, prevented miraculously from a death-dealing blow by a narrow strip of leather. Even as Pullo struggled to free himself of the constriction, his sword was flashing out defensively against the oncoming Gauls.

By the time Vorenus was at his side, there were near a dozen Gauls lunging and thrashing at them with spears, swords and axes. Pullo's discarded shield was preventing them from getting to his undefended side - a hindrance due to its size and bulk - but any moment the pair would be swarmed over by angry, vengeful Gauls.

Screaming Latin obscenities, Vorenus launched himself at the Gauls, using his shield as a battering ram and knocking back and aside half a dozen men in a single leap, his sword flashing out again and again, biting into flesh, slicing arms and once severing a man's jugular. The spray of arterial blood washed over the entire scene, blinding half the combatants and making it difficult for anyone involved to see what was happening. A man appeared above Vorenus and lunged down with a sword, only to be struck by a well-thrown pilum from the camp's walls. He disappeared backwards with a shriek.

Angrily, Vorenus shook his head, blinking away the crimson veil, only to lose his footing to an animal warren's entrance. With a curse, he fell forwards, his own shield slipping his grasp and disappearing off to the side. A roar of victory went up among the front ranks of the Gauls and some of the lesser warriors found themselves pushed roughly aside to allow the greater nobles to reach the fallen Roman - not the two leaders they had pinned with their pila, though.

Vorenus rolled to avoid a spear thrust which jammed into the turf where his chest had been but a moment before, lashing out with his gladius and feeling it catch flesh in the sudden press above and around him. He felt something wet and rubbery slap across his cheek and a fresh splash of crimson washed his vision. A thrust blade ripped a few links from his mail shirt and bounced along his ribs. He hardly noticed, so intent was he on avoiding the rest of the iron and bronze points lunging down at him.

Again, a Gaul was plucked from his feet by a carefully placed pilum from the camp walls and Vorenus almost laughed as the sudden gap in the surrounding enemies trying to kill him filled with the frenzied form of Pullo, who had finally extricated himself from his predicament.

"We've got to go!" he yelled at Vorenus as he slammed his blade into the neck of the Gaul to his left, stamping his nail-soled boot down on the foot of another man.

"So soon?" he managed to shout back with a manic laugh.

Pullo's reply went unheard as Vorenus concentrated on keeping two lunging spearmen off him, knocking the weapons this way and that with his sword so that they could not manage a straight thrust at him. As one spearhead slammed into the turf, pushed aside from its intended target, Pullo was suddenly next to him, lifting him with his free arm while his sword continually slashed at the enemy.

Vorenus felt his own blade come out of his grasp, his fingers numbed by the scrape of a spear head along the knuckles. Involuntarily, he yelped and then, irritated by the unmanly noise, shouted something to the effect that the spear-wielder's mother had known her brother in most unfortunate ways.

Something grazed his leg as he stumbled away, drawing blood and leaving a hot score-mark across the back of his thigh.

Suddenly they were in the open again, making their way onto the causeway and back to the gate in the camp ramparts, which was already creeping open for them.

Celtic warriors chased them, leaving the safety of their lines and trying to get close enough for a good spear throw, only to find themselves in range of the scorpions in the towers that protected the gate. The nearest two Gauls were impaled in a heartbeat and knocked back, encouraging the rest to stay at a safe distance.

Stray arrows and sling stones began to track them and as they ran they zigged and zagged across the causeway, presenting the most difficult target they could. Pullo was spun sideways as a bullet clanged off his helmet making a sound like a bell and Vorenus had to grab his arm as they ran to keep him heading the right way. An arrow thudded into his own shoulder, the mail shirt taking most of the power out of it, but the blow still slamming him forward. He could feel the wound beneath the links burning and throbbing.

And then they were inside the gate and the timber leaves were closing behind them. Vorenus fell to his knees, gripping his painful shoulder and coughing up bile. Next to him, Pullo wrenched off his helmet, noting with dazed interest the dent in it and feeling for the matching dent in his skull from which a trickle of blood ran. He shook his head to try and clear the fug of the bell-ring that had robbed his senses.

By the time the pair had pulled themselves upright and stood recovering with deep breaths, Felix had descended the ramparts and was wandering towards them, shaking his head in baffled wonder.

"You two are absolutely out of your minds. You know that?"

"Just a bit of exercise, Prefect."

Felix laughed.

"They just did a headcount on the wall. Comes out differently each time, but we can be fairly sure you killed or badly wounded at least eleven of the bastards, including three nobles. Not a bad rate for two men. I was expecting more of a major assault, but you might just have given the messengers the distraction they needed."

"If Fortuna hasn't
completely
abandoned us."

* * * * *

The evening brought a calming of the winds, which was a great relief to the men on the ramparts. Following the crazed activity of the two centurions, the Gauls had surged against the fort walls with renewed anger, though their outrage at what had happened served Rome well, driving them into frenzied, chaotic attack, rather than the carefully planned siege that their leaders were obviously favouring.

Still, the day had brought too many deaths for comfort. Felix stood watching the numerous campfires of the Nervii and pondering on the butcher's bill he'd just been delivered. The legion was now down to less than three thousand men. Still a strong force by headcount, but little more than half that which had manned these walls a week ago, and that included a large number of wounded.