but you couldn’t work on the whole machine at once; it was just too big and complex. One bit at a time. And he’d done that with this last week; one piece at a time, but when he tried to look at the events and the effects of the whole week at once, it made his head swim.
He sighed and turned his head to gaze into the woodland occupying the higher slope of the valley’s side.
“Cernus… I need more direction. I’m getting lost in all of this.”
But there was no sign of the great white stag.
The eaves of the forest glowered at him with what looked like malicious intent.
Vengen was more even than Salonius had expected. Once, long ago, it had been the hilltop fortress of the greatest of the northern tribes; so long ago that even the name of the tribe was considered obscure knowledge. The massive plateau had been carefully flattened and the steep banks on all sides carved and built into a succession of concentric ditches and embankments that would present, on their own, a serious impediment to attackers. Indeed, the innermost ditch even cleaved the hilltop in two, creating two separate zones connected by a bridge.
But where the ancient tribe had carved this monument to their independence, the Empire had done what it did best. Adopted, adapted and improved. Taking Vengen as the centre of military control for the entire northern quarter of the Empire, Imperial engineers had raised high walls with a series of towers around both separate zones. Each tower bore a siege weapon that, given the height of the plateau, would have an astounding range and field of fire.
Pennants bearing the Imperial raven and the wolf snapped in the late afternoon wind and sounds of civic and military life issued from beyond the walls. The young soldier stared up at the high walls and marvelled. Truly, this was a seat of Imperial power.
The riders and their escort slowly made their way among the maze of ridges that formed the slope leading up to the main gate, aware at all times of the number of guards watching over them from the walls above. As they approached, he noted the construction with a trained engineer’s eye. There had been several different building phases at Vengen that had left the walls more than twice their original height, with a clear line showing the original parapet where the stonework changed. Indeed, the main gatehouse showed four very obvious stages of building, both upwards and outwards, with the last being an external barbican that added an extra level of defence and would be a brutal killing ground for attackers. And even though such defences were beyond the hope of any besieging army, it would still be easier than traversing the six ridges and ditches full of traps and sharpened stakes, all clearly within sight of the archers on the walls.
Vengen was prepared for any kind of assault, though it was clearly unnecessary. Vengen had never been attacked and, with the strength and control of the Empire, it never would be. Vengen was, without a doubt, the most impressive symbol of strength and control Salonius had ever seen.
They passed beneath the arch of the outer gate, two oak doors almost a foot thick standing open but constantly guarded and greased ready to close in a matter of mere moments. The holes in the ceiling of the outer barbican would rain fire and oil and other deadly missiles, blistering and killing a crush of attackers as they desperately tried to cross the yard to the inner gate. The walls connecting the outer barbican to the inner main gate were crenellated on the inside as well as the outside, giving defenders plenty of cover as they butchered the attackers below.
But all of this detail filtered into Salonius’ mind on a subconscious, peripheral level, for from the moment he passed under the outer arch, his attention was seized and gripped tight by the main inner gate: an engineer’s dream, be they military or civil.
“The great Golden Gate of Cassius.” Whispered Catilina as she leaned toward him. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
Salonius opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him. Instead, he turned momentarily to look at the pale and drawn lady beside him. The medics had advised they leave the shaft of the arrow in place until they reach hospital facilities at Vengen. They had confirmed that nothing critical had been pierced and that moving the arrow would cause bleeding and worsen her condition. They had given her some kind of medication for the pain, carefully bandaged her and left her in Salonius’ care until she came around, which she’d done some four hours later. Salonius had cradled her gently, his eyes full of concern, and she had turned, looked up at him and smiled broadly.
“Did you arrange all this to get me on your horse?” she’d laughed. “Varro will be jealous!”
Since then, throughout the night and the next day, the lady had regained some of her strength, and certainly all her brightness and humour. That first night when they’d stopped for food she’d eaten ravenously and thanked Salonius for his cares before disappearing out of the circle of firelight with Varro for an hour.
And once they finished their meal and mounted once more, Catilina had taken her own horse back, brushing aside all queries and comments of concern…
“Stop staring at me Salonius. I’m fine!”
The young man felt an irritating blush rise to his cheeks and turned his attention back to the Golden Gate.
The Empire was known for its arches. There were glorious arches in the Imperial capital, or so he’d read, and quite a few out to the east, all celebrating the greatest victories of generals and Emperors, but he’d never seen one outside a sketched drawing. There was only one great triumphal arch in the northern lands, but it was reckoned by those in the know to be one of the best ever constructed.
Cassius had been the great conquering Emperor who, over two centuries ago, had almost doubled the size of the Empire in his short, twelve-year reign. He it was who brought the northern lands into the Empire and who had taken Vengen from the barbarian and made it an Imperial fortress. And to mark the conquest of the north, he had an arch built at Vengen to rival those back in Imperial Velutio. The second plateau of the fort had been retained for the military, but the arch stood at the entrance of what was to be the civilian settlement on the first plateau.
The triumphal arch was constructed of tufa, encased in shining white marble brought almost three hundred miles from the coastal ports solely for this monument. Rows of niches peppered the facade in neat lines. Not enough to destroy the simple elegance of the double-arched gate, but enough to house twenty statues, alternating between the great officers and generals of Cassius’ army, and the figures of the barbarian leaders, proud and noble even in defeat. A work of beauty and genius, and one that, while promoting the ideal of the Imperial army, still managed to remind the viewer that the barbarians were an enemy worthy of extreme respect.
And then, atop the arch stood the great bronze statue of Cassius in his chariot, four shining metal horses snorting and stamping in their proud frenzy. The sun gleamed off the bronze that was kept polished at all times.
And the final addition to the arch, through which it had acquired its name: the great doors. Solid wood, two feet thick, reinforced in later years with iron, but faced with solid gold, attached to the wood with gold-plated bolts. The doors dazzled and flashed in the sunlight, a blazing, blinding reminder of the glory of the Empire.
Salonius realised he was holding his breath.
In later years, the arch had been incorporated into the walls of the outer bailey of Vengen when the civilian settlement had received its defensive walls. Few concessions had been made to the defensiveness of the glorious structure. The top had been crenellated, massive ‘D’ shaped towers had been added to either side, and one of the huge golden doors had been sealed permanently shut to restrict access. None of this had detracted from the arch. Indeed, in a curious way, it added to the beauty.
He was almost sad as they passed within the inner gate and entered the town proper of Vengen. The civilian settlement was quite small by Imperial standards, limited as it was by the dimensions of the plateau, but every inch of space on that hill top had been used to the greatest advantage. The buildings were generally three storeys tall and packed in with little or no yard or garden space and, by edict, all buildings in Vengen were of stone rather than wood, bearing in mind the danger posed by fire within the crowded press of the town.
Salonius was surprised, as they rode through the busy streets as to the makeup of the population. He wasn’t sure what he expected; probably a mix between the more civilised northern tribesmen and Imperial settlers from the centre of the Empire. He wasn’t expecting the cosmopolitan atmosphere Vengen apparently had.
The moment they entered the main street that ran across the town from the Golden Gate to the bridge across the gorge, a small, dark-skinned Pelasian man stepped out from a side street and started shouting something about a restaurant at him. Two crippled veterans of eastern extraction sat on a doorstep playing dice. The ebony skin of a southern tribesman grabbed his attention before he disappeared into the crowd.
