Twang!
The first scorpion bolt shot towards thefortress, landing short, which is not unusual, hitting the wallseveral feet below the rampart. An instant later, another scorpionfired, using the first shot as a reference, this one hittingdirectly below an opening between the crenellations before glancingupward, narrowly missing a man who was slow to duck. Within a fewmoments, the dozen scorpions were putting up a steady hail of fire,the bolts streaking in between the gaps in the rampart, some ofthem striking fleshy targets. The first Thracians to die were menwho were foolhardy or slow, not ducking out of the way quicklyenough. Then the scorpion gunners waited, trying to time shots sothat when a Thracian poked his head up to check on what washappening, they timed it perfectly, sending a bolt to meet him. Itbecame something of a game and, of course, this led to spiritedwagering between the crews, each of them trying to match theircomrades. One Thracian met a spectacular end when he leaned over atthe exact moment a bolt passed between the crenellations. Even fromwhere I was positioned, I could see the blood and brain matterspray high into the air as the man’s head exploded, much to thedelight of one crew and the groans of the other. The Thracianarchers, no longer able to see their targets, were now reduced tostanding a short distance back from the rampart so they in turnwere not visible to our gunners, thereby firing wildly, withpredictable results, their arrows landing almost everywhere excepttheir intended target. In the same way, the Thracian artilleryspotters were unable to aim their own weapons, consequentlychoosing to save their ammunition. Seeing that the rampart was nowclear, I gave the order for the ballistae to open fire, theair soon filled with alternating high-pitched reports of thescorpions, punctuated by the lower, heavier booming sound of theballistae arms slamming into the crosspieces. A momentlater, there would be the sharp crack of a missile hitting thewall, and I was pleased to see that it only took each piece one ortwo stones to find the appropriate range. After a moment, I turnedto Libo, giving him a nod and, without hesitation, he in turn gavehis own command. The scouting party started out at the trot,heading up the road toward Serdica. I watched the rampart intentlyfor any sign that a Thracian had managed to take a peek to see whatwas happening, bracing myself for the sound of a missile flyingover the rampart, yet nothing happened. Turning to watch the dusttrail of the scouting party, I saw them disappearing around thebend in the road as it curved slightly east, wrapping around thebase of the mountain. Now there was nothing left to do but wait,for both the bombardment to reach a successful conclusion, and Liboand Lucullus to return with news.
Stone after stone slammed into the fortresswall, most of them striking within inches of the patched area abovethe gate. Still, I could not see much damage being done, other thanknocking pieces of mortar loose. After perhaps twenty direct hits,I rode over to within shouting distance of Flavianus, who had movedup behind the plutei to supervise the men working theartillery. Staying out of range of the archers, who had given upfor the most part, I called to him.
“It doesn’t look like we’re doing muchdamage.”
His scowl deepened, and he shook his head,but it was less in answer to me than a reaction to mypessimism.
“Stop being impatient, Prefect,” he shoutedback. “It will take some time.”
I bit my tongue, yet it was hard; knowingthat I would be sounding like Marcus Primus was enough to convinceme to remain silent. My biggest problem at that moment was that Ihad nothing to do, finding sitting on Ocelus and just lookingimpassive to be extremely difficult. I had occupied myself bywatching the progress of the scouting party by its dust cloud,until it disappeared behind the shoulder of the mountain. Veryquickly however, Libo and Lucullus would be on the opposite side,where they could see both the city and whatever lay between it andthe fortress, despite their dust being out of sight. I could notdiscount the possibility that there was yet another fortressguarding Serdica, or perhaps the river crossing, if the riverturned to the east around the base of the mountain, although Idoubted it. Even worse, our scouting party could run directly intoreinforcements sent from the city, if there was indeed a road thatallowed the fortress commander to send for help. I had given veryexplicit orders that they not engage in the event that happened,yet not knowing the lay of the land meant that they might not havea choice if they were surprised. There was no sign of the defenderson the rampart now, reducing the scorpion gunners to firing boltsat random intervals all along the wall, except at the very farcorner, which was just out of range. And it did not take long forthe defenders to discover this, and before much time had passed, wecould see them leaning out over the wall at that spot, looking backtoward the gate in order to assess the damage. I took some comfortin the fact that they were seeing the same thing I was, littleenough, at least as far as outward appearances. But Flavianus stillseemed confident, and even Marcus Primus was reluctant to press himfurther when the Praetor and Masala made an appearance to see theexcitement.
“It doesn’t look like much,” I heard thePraetor sniff to his aide. “I don’t know what all the fuss is aboutconducting a siege.”
“It would seem that it must be harder thanit looks,” Masala replied with a straight face, catching himrolling his eyes from his spot immediately behind the Praetor.
The ears become accustomed to the sound andrhythm of the missiles slamming into the wall, every ball strikingthe same tone. Each missile continued to chip
