ground accompanied by a roar of triumph from the other side of the wall.
‘That’s it, they’re going,’ the centurion above shouted.
‘And about fucking time too. Artillery!’ Faustus roared.
The crews of the ballistae and onagers stationed with the first cohort rushed out from the wall and began to frantically load their weapons.
‘Two hundred paces; two fifty,’ the centurion on the wall called down. He was waiting for the enemy to be far enough away for the missiles not to overshoot them because of the trajectory they needed to use to clear the wall. ‘Now!’ he yelled, flinging himself down so as not to have his head taken off.
Fifteen assorted artillery pieces released simultaneously with a loud rasp of metal grating on wood followed by sharp cracks from the wooden arms of the machines slamming into the restraining beams as they released their projectiles.
Faustus came strolling up to Vespasian as the volley flew over the wall. ‘We hardly ever hit any of them with the artillery, I just consider it to be good manners to send a few bolts and rocks after them as they go,’ he said grinning, ‘and besides, it’s good fun.’
‘And good practice for the crews,’ Sabinus observed. ‘They had their weapons loaded very quickly. I’m impressed.’
‘Well, don’t tell them, it’ll go to their heads and they’ll slow down.’
‘I won’t, my brother in light.’
Faustus raised his eyebrows. ‘So you heard my slightly profane reference to our Lord Mithras, brother? I’m sure he will forgive it, but, to make certain he does I will do my utmost to help a fellow believer. A boat and clothes you say; not a problem.’
Faustus turned his attention to his men. ‘What are you all looking at, you idle buggers?’ he bellowed. ‘Haven’t you ever seen a steaming siege tower before? Get back to work, the lot of you; the Fifth Macedonica didn’t stop in all the time we were under attack so jump to it and clear those bodies up.’
The reaction was instantaneous; shields and buckets were downed and the men returned to their tasks. Once he was satisfied that all was proceeding as quickly as possible he returned to Vespasian and his comrades. ‘Well, gentlemen, the Getae have solved the clothes problem. Rather than me having to get eight of the prisoners and executing them, there are probably dozens of already dead ones just beyond the gate. We’ll go and take a look when it gets dark, but first let’s find you a boat.’
‘From what I know of this sewage drain,’ Centurion Faustus said, pointing to a crude diagram of the fortress lit by a single oil lamp, ‘it’s just to the west of the keep, which means that it will open up into the main courtyard.’
‘Shit, that isn’t going to be very private,’ Magnus exclaimed. ‘It’ll be packed with Getae.’
‘Yes, two thousand or so, the rest are in the fortified settlement,’ Faustus replied. ‘However, if you go in the dead of night there’s a good chance that they’ll be asleep.’
‘A good chance you say, but not definite?’ Vespasian asked, scratching his crotch, which had been playing havoc with him since donning Getic clothes.
Faustus shrugged. ‘Who’s to say what these fuckers get up to at night, they do keep a few horses in the fortress. Anyway, if you get in, the priest will probably be found in the keep itself. According to the few auxiliaries who managed to escape when the fortress was overrun, the most comfortable rooms are halfway up, on the third floor; I would guess that the Getic commanders will commandeer them.’
‘This is getting silly,’ Sabinus observed. ‘Even if we do manage to tiptoe past all these sleeping savages, make it up three flights of stairs and find Rhoteces, we’re bound to make some noise getting hold of him. So how do we get back down and out again through all that lot? Not even the Lord Mithras could spirit us past them.’
‘You don’t go back down, but you will need our Lord Mithras’ help.’ Faustus grinned. ‘I’ll give you some rope and you can leave through the windows, it’s fifty feet down straight on to the riverbank. I’ll lend you two or three of my lads to stay in the boat and they can pick you up as you come out.’
Vespasian nodded. ‘I suppose that give us the best chance of escape, but, no offence, Faustus, I would prefer if you would give me the three lads who were transferred from the Thracian garrison to man the boat; one owes me his life, they’ll have more reason than most to hang around when it starts to get dangerous.’
With a shrug Faustus acquiesced. They were hunched around a table in a small, ill-lit hut built up against the siege wall, which Faustus used as the headquarters for the first cohort. The air inside was barely breathable owing to the stench of the disguises they had ripped from the dead Getae three hours before.
Vespasian looked at Sabinus and Magnus, who nodded reluctantly, then around at Sitalces and the rest of the Thracians crowded behind him, peering at the map. ‘Well, Sitalces, what do you think?’ he asked the huge Thracian.
‘We have a saying in Thracian: “A faint-heart never fucked a pig.”’
Vespasian joined in the general laugher. ‘I’ll remember that one. Well, gentlemen, we’ve got a Titan of a pig in front of us, let’s give it a fucking that it won’t forget.’
‘What do you think the chances of success are when you storm the place tomorrow?’ Vespasian asked Faustus as they wove their way through the crowded siege lines towards the river. They had drawn some questioning looks from the legionaries still at work in the torchlight, but the sight of their primus pilus and an escort of a heavily armed contubernium — a unit of eight men — led the soldiers to the assumption that it was a group of Getic deserters being taken for questioning. They had removed their weapons which, along with their regular clothes, Vespasian’s uniform, a couple of crowbars and the ropes, were in a hand-cart being pulled by Varinus and his two mates Lucius and Arruns.
‘It’ll be a hard slog but we’ll get there. The key to it is timing. We need to contain the thousand or so enemy in the fortified village so that they don’t take the towers in the rear in the half-hour that it will take to push them to the walls, or, once we’re there, burst through the siege lines and escape whilst we’re busy trying to get over the fortress’s walls. That’ll be the job for the seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth cohorts, whilst we and the sixth take one tower, the third and fourth take another and two cohorts of the Fifth Macedonica take the third, leaving their other two cohorts to guard the gates. I’ll give Poppaeus his due, he does think things through and he knows how to conduct a siege, which is more than can be said for some of the twats that I’ve served under.’
‘What time is the attack set for?’ Sabinus asked.
Before Faustus could reply a horribly familiar voice interrupted. ‘Faustus, where the fuck did you find these savages?’ Centurion Caelus loomed out of the darkness accompanied by two torch-bearing legionaries. ‘If you’re taking them to the general for questioning then you’re going the wrong way.’
‘Piss off, Caelus, and mind your own business,’ Faustus growled. Vespasian and Sabinus lowered their heads in an attempt to hide their shaven un-Getic faces; Magnus retreated behind Sitalces.
‘Prisoners are the general’s business, and I make the general’s business my business,’ Caelus replied, taking a torch from one of his legionaries and thrusting it towards Vespasian. ‘They don’t seem too keen to be seen, do they?’
‘Keep back,’ Faustus warned as he tried to step between Vespasian and Caelus, but Caelus was quicker and he grabbed Vespasian’s chin and forced his head up.
‘Well, what have we here?’ he drawled, staring coldly into Vespasian’s eyes. ‘A tribune disguised as a Getic warrior.’ He looked around at the rest of the party and recognised Sitalces and the other Thracians. ‘All of you dressed the same… not really messengers from the Queen, eh? Spies, more like.’ He turned back to Vespasian. ‘I knew you were up to something with these hairy bastards back up in the pass when you gave them orders. You hadn’t spoken to them once on the journey yet you knew Sitalces’ and Artebudz’s names. Now I understand why you put all our lives in danger, you’re on a secret mission for someone that couldn’t wait. The general will be very interested, I’m sure, when I tell him what’s going on.’
‘Centurion, you will do no such thing,’ Vespasian ordered futilely. ‘Faustus, grab him!’
Caelus jumped to his right, away from Faustus as the primus pilus made a lunge for him, and swung his torch round, narrowly missing Faustus’ face, causing him to back off. Then, with a sneer, he sidestepped between his two accompanying legionaries and sprinted off into the night.
‘You two get back to your century,’ Faustus ordered Caelus’ two legionaries, ‘and don’t say a word about this to anyone unless you want to spend the rest of your service on latrine duty and having the skin whipped off your backs at regular intervals.’
The two men, looking suitably terrified at the very real threat, nodded quickly, saluted their primus pilus and
