“Then get to work,” he said, and I was happyto do so.
Our first challenge came with theconstruction of the plutei, because there were no treesstanding in the vicinity that were of a sufficient size, or thewood that was available was too soft and would undoubtedly shatterif it were struck by enemy artillery. To remedy that, our onlychoice was to break down several wagons, using the wood from themto construct the barricades. This could pose a serious problem; ifthose timbers were damaged, then we would be short several wagonswhen we were ready to continue to Serdica.
By the end of the first day, theplutei had been constructed. It was in sections, convex inshape, with the supports angled slightly so if an enemy missilestruck the timbers nailed to them, it would not strike square.These sections were loaded on wagons, but by the time everythingwas ready, it was already too late to head to the fortress and wehad to wait until the next morning. That night, sitting at my smalldesk in my tent, I missed Scribonius a great deal. I realized howmuch I had come to depend on him for his advice, and I was remindedof something I had heard from men who had lost a major limb, howfor some time afterward they would still think it was there. Theywould only remember when they tried to take a step on anon-existent leg, or reached for something with an arm that was notthere. That was how I felt that night, worrying about the far sideof the fortress, and how I did not know what the ground was like onthe side facing Serdica. I knew that the fortress would be clearlyvisible from the walls of the city, meaning they would know whenthe siege began. If there was a more direct road, or even a pathsuitable for men and horses, the Thracians could easily reinforcethe fortress, and perhaps more importantly, resupply them withammunition. I was not worried about food, knowing that the siegewould not be protracted enough for their larder to run so low thatit would cause them real trouble. Sitting there, sipping from mycup of wine, I brooded over how to find out what I needed to know.Diocles had been off visiting a friend elsewhere in camp. When hereturned, I was still sitting there, in an extremely bad mood.
“Where have you been?”
Because I had long since stopped questioningDiocles about his whereabouts, he had every right to looksurprised. Freezing in the doorway, he surveyed the situation,instantly understanding that my anger was not at him, but that ifhe were not careful, I would lash out at him, at leastverbally.
“I was visiting Pericles.” He named one ofthe younger clerks of the Praetorium he had befriended and,despite my irritation, I was reminded that he had done so at mybehest.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I said.
It was a half-hearted apology, because I wasstill angry and wanted to take it out on someone. Fortunately forboth of us, what I had done to Scribonius was still fresh enough inmy mind that I refrained. More out of desperation than in any realhope of finding a solution, I told Diocles my problem. He satlistening carefully, then in a pose reminiscent of my friend,frowned as he thought.
“Essentially, you have to figure out a wayto get around that fortress, but the road is within range ofartillery, and perhaps archers?”
“Yes, that’s about it,” I agreed.
“What about creating some sort of diversionto draw their attention away from what you want to do?” hesuggested.
“I’ve thought of that, but nothing comes tomind.”
“Wait.” He suddenly smiled, looking verypleased. “I think I know what you can do.”
I indicated that he should go ahead and tellme his idea, yet I did not have a great deal of confidence.
“Nothing,” he said simply. “You don’t need adiversion.”
I stared at him, feeling the angerthreatening to return, but I was willing to give my little Greekthe benefit of the doubt.
“Maybe you should explain yourself,” I toldhim, my tone more than enough warning for him to hurry on.
“You’re putting the artillery in placetomorrow, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And starting the bombardment the momenteverything is in place?”
“Of course.” I made no attempt to hide myimpatience now.
“Isn’t that going to keep them so busy thatthey won’t have time to worry about a scouting party?”
I considered the idea, and I could see thatwhile it was sound, it needed some additional bolstering.
“Not by themselves, but if we take thescorpions, that should do the trick.”
It would require some alteration to theoriginal plan, since we had not intended to drag the scorpions upthe hill along with the ballistae. I complimented Diocles onhis idea, feeling enough comfort that I was able to go tosleep.
We placed the plutei first. It wasthen we learned that while the Thracians did have artillery, it wasnot in sufficient strength and numbers to stop us. It did make themen move carefully, but only after a couple of them got careless,stepping out from behind the plutei when they were pushingit up the hill into position, and one man was killed, anotherhaving an arm torn off at the shoulder before they learned theirlesson. The plutei suffered a number of direct hits,creating a thunderous crash when they were struck. Nonetheless, thetimbers held, the barricade working as designed, sending themissiles caroming upward because of the angle. Their archers wereanother matter; the only thing we could be thankful for was thatthere did not seem to be more than a hundred of them on theramparts. Firing their arrows at an extreme angle into the sky,they were able to arch their missiles over the plutei¸striking more men and forcing me to send in a Century to form amakeshift testudo in an attempt to shield the working party. I saton Ocelus, out of range, of course, watching the men work. Besideme were Libo and Lucullus, along with a cavalry detachment onehundred strong. They were waiting, as was I, for everything to beput in place with the ballistae and scorpions. Then thebombardment would begin, whereupon they would go at the gallopnorth on the
