Final Campaign

wall that we could not see yet instantlybecame apparent. There was the usual momentary pause as the nextballista was being loaded to fire, when, without any otherwarning, the entire section of remaining wall above the gate lintelcollapsed. Just as Flavianus had predicted, the huge weight of thewall could no longer support itself, falling downward onto thetimber of the gate lintel. For just the briefest moment, nothingmore happened, the fortress rampart just above the right gatesimply having a dip in it, but otherwise looking strangely intact.After a moment of eerie silence, a screeching wail filled the air,a sound unlike anything I had ever heard before, sending shivers upmy spine and the thought of demons filling my head. I could notimmediately identify the sound, knowing that no single man couldshriek that loudly. I got my answer when first the lintel, followedby the gate itself, straining under the massive weight of the thickrock wall, finally gave way. The wail was replaced by a crackingsound; it was at that moment I understood that it had been the woodof the gates shrieking their last protest before splintering.Massive chunks of wood snapped outward, flying end over end,scything through the air and threatening to obliterate instantlyany man in their path. The iron bands of the gate were flung offalong with the pieces of the gate, and I watched in horror as onetwisted chunk of iron, spinning around too fast for the eye tofollow the movement, went slicing into one of the Centuries waitingto start the assault. I saw men tossed about from the impact of theiron, one man being disemboweled while others were severelyinjured. A collapse of this magnitude generates a huge cloud ofdust and debris, following closely behind the remnants of the gate,rolling down the hill in a thick wave that instantly blindedeveryone in its path. I was off to the side, but even so, I foundmyself choking on the combination of pulverized rock and mortar,the gritty cloud burning my eyes. Blinking through the tears, Icould only barely make out the aftermath of the collapse, yetdespite my obscured vision, I could see that we were in for a toughfight.

Slowly, the dust settled, the sound ofcascading rock wall dying down as the pile created by the collapsestarted to settle. Through the haze, I could see dark spiky objectsprotruding from the rubble pile, taking me a moment to realize thatit was pieces of the gate partially buried. Quite sensibly, theSerdi had moved off that section of the rampart, meaning there wereno casualties caused by the collapse itself. Understandably aswell, the spectacle of the collapse had captured everyone’sattention on both sides, and after the massive sound of the wallcollapsing, the ensuing moments afterward seemed eerily silent, mensimply standing there gaping at the destruction. Gradually, Ibecame aware of the cries of the wounded men from the Century whohad been hit by the piece of iron, bringing me to my senses.Shaking my head and pawing at my eyes to clear them of the dust, Ifinally was able to focus normally and the first thing I saw wasthe rampart lined with Thracians who were standing andwatching.

“Flavianus, wake your men up! They havetargets up on the rampart!”

Flavianus was covered in dust from head tofoot, along with all of his men, and he physically shook himself atmy shouted command, the dust literally falling from his body whenhe turned to begin shouting at the scorpion gunners. With the cloudsettling and my vision cleared, I got a better look at the breach,my heart sinking when I saw that my initial impression had beencorrect. There was in fact a breach there, a great gaping hole inthe fortress wall where the gate had been, and a huge pile ofdebris leading up to it, but the breach itself was not suitable.Not only was it too steep, thereby forcing the men to climb handover hand, the presence of the timbers from the gate sticking outof the pile acted as further obstacles. I could easily envision thescene; the First Cohort of the 8^th struggling up thatpile, easy targets now for those remaining archers, who could standon the southern and northern walls, safe from our scorpions, firingdown onto our men, and that was only the first part of the assault.Because of the steep angle, the top of the rubble pile was muchhigher than the ground inside the fortress. While men could handlejumping down a distance more or less their own height, anythingmuch higher than that posed serious risks. This was both because ofthe chance of injury and the jarring impact the landing wouldcause, forcing them to try recovering quickly enough to prevent aThracian from simply ending them before they had a chance to fight.We still did not know how many men were inside the fortress, butafter watching it for the past three days, I very much doubted ifit was more than two thousand men. We had whittled those numbersdown somewhat, yet there would undoubtedly be a large number ofSerdi warriors waiting for those first men over the breach. That iswhy the corona vallaris is such a coveted decoration, and israrely awarded because the first man into an enemy camp usuallydoes not survive. Also pushing at the back of my mind was theknowledge that the garrison in Serdica would see that something hadhappened from the cloud of dust rising from the fortress, meaningthey might be sending reinforcements shortly. My mind churnedthrough all these things as I stared at the rubble pile, trying todecide what to do. Finally, I mounted Ocelus and since thescorpions had resumed keeping the Thracians’ heads down, I trottedover to Flavianus. He was staring at the breach disconsolately, andI knew he understood the problem as well.

“What now?” I asked him.

Flavianus did not answer, continuing tostare at the hole, the two ends of his mouth almost meeting underhis chin. Finally, he looked up at me with a bleak expression.

“I don’t know,” he said simply, and I bitback a curse.

“Prefect! Prefect!”

I turned to see Marcus Primus, stayingcarefully out of range of possible harm, waving at me urgently.

I sighed, telling Flavianus, “Try