Final Campaign

and, during the night, the Lusitani hadattempted to attack our makeshift camp, consisting of little morethan a hastily dug ditch and the spoil thrown up as a breastwork.That was when I first experienced what I can only describe as afit, not necessarily dissimilar to those suffered by Caesar in away. It was not the same in the way in which it manifested itself;I did not convulse, and in fact had full command of my body.However, where it was alike is in that I had absolutely no memoryof it after the fact. I remember a feeling of rage and bitternesswashing up through me, feeling like a fire that started somewheredeep in my belly and the thought of how the glorious career that mybest friend Vibius Domitius and I had dreamed of since we were boyswould now be denied me, because I was not going to survive thenight. I thought about the unfairness of it, how I had been workingsince before I was even wearing the toga virilis, under thetutelage of Cyclops, to be the best Legionary in the history ofRome, and how I would be deprived of all the rewards that came withit. Then something inside me seemed to break, like a dam suddenlygiving way to a raging flood. The next thing I remembered wasstanding, panting like a dog in the heat, every inch of me coveredin blood that was not my own, with a sword in my hand black andcrusted with blood and gore. All around me were bodies, many, manybodies of Lusitani that, according to the other men of my Century,I had killed. Call it bloodlust, call it touched by Mars, some sortof divine madness, it had saved not only my life, but the lives ofthe men of the First Century. This had been the occasion of myfirst decoration by Caesar, and really marked the beginning of myrelationship with the general, who I still love above all others tothis day. This killing rage had not happened to me often, but whenit had, the results had always been the same. Now, standing at theedge of that rubble pile, full of despair and the sick feeling thatcomes from knowing not only that you have failed, but you are notnearly the man you thought you were, that rage, that old friendcame back to me, one last time. The only difference this time wasthat I remember what happened in the subsequent moments vividly, asI let out a roar of frustration and anger.

“No!” I remember shouting, over and over.“No! No! NO! I am not done yet! I am not through! I am still TitusPullus!”

The fatigue and weakness that just a momentbefore had been about to engulf me and send me to oblivionvanished, a fresh spate of sweat spurting out of my body, but thistime feeling like molten lava. Dropping both ladders from my righthand, I crouched to peer from underneath my shield, severalarrowheads now poking through to make my vision even more obscured.I had to find a spot to put the first ladder. Seeing a likelyplace, I picked one ladder up and threw it down, with the spikesfacing downward. Fortunately, the ladder stuck into the pile. Then,picking up the second ladder, I began walking up the first section.Immediately following my lead, the other three men did the same intheir own area, except that before the one farthest to the rightand nearest to the wall on that side could take more than twosteps, he either let his shield slip or a Thracian made a luckyshot. Hearing a choked cry, I risked a glance in time to see himdrop his other two sections of ladder to clutch at his throat,clearly seeing the feathered shaft protruding from between hisfingers, already soaked with blood. There was nothing that could bedone except press on, with only the ability to hope that the manbehind him had the presence of mind to pick up the ladder insteadof mindlessly trying to scramble up the pile. My spot was on thefar left, meaning the ruined left side of the gate was immediatelyin front of me. The other two leading men were between me and thefallen Legionary, both of them having also placed their firstsection of ladder. One of them, now that he understood what wasrequired, was moving more quickly than the rest of us. Arrows werenow coming more thickly than at any other point, thudding into therubble, glancing off the pieces of rock that were part of the pile,or embedding themselves in one of the pieces of gate sticking up.With my renewed energy, I no longer was having trouble keeping myshield up, despite it growing increasingly clumsier as the weightchanged from all the arrows stuck in it. Reaching out to throw downthe second section, I climbed farther up on the first, putting mecloser to the wall. I knew that just a few paces away, higher upthe pile, I would be too close to the wall for the archers to get ashot at me, but the men behind me still had to go through the sameordeal. Taking care not to move my shield, I looked under my arm tosee a single line of Legionaries strung out behind me, all of themholding their shields up, most of them having several arrows inthem as well. A few men had fallen, most of them curling upunderneath their shields to wait for help while, for the most part,the Thracians ignored them. The second section was over a much moreuneven piece of ground and, taking my first step, I almost lost mybalance when the ladder twisted. A good length of one side was nottouching anything solid, not even the spikes, so I looked about fora better piece of the pile to lay it on, but it all looked thesame. Gritting my teeth, I walked farther up the ladder, feelingthe flattened rungs under my feet for any change that might alertme that it was collapsing from under me. Because of my height, Icould now catch a glimpse of the interior of the fortress, and itwas not a heartening sight. A