Conn Iggulden - The Gates Of Rome

The men shuffled apart from the little knots that had formed out of a need for contact. The fear was in all their eyes. Renius cursed to himself. Ten good men from his old legion and he could hold this place until dawn. These were children with sticks and knives. He took a deep breath as he tried to find words to encourage them. Even the iron legions had needed speeches to fire their blood, and they were confident of their skills.

"There is nowhere to run to. If the mob breaks past you, everyone in this house will die. That is your responsibility. You must not leave your position-we are stretched thinly enough as it is. The wall is four feet wide-one long pace. Learn it-if you take more than one step back, you will fall."

He watched as the men shuffled around on the wall, checking the width for themselves. His face hardened.

"I will keep fighters in the courtyard to deal with any that get over the wall. Do not look down, even if you see your friends being killed before you."

Cabera came out of the buildings, his bow restrung in his hand. "This is how you inspire them? Your empire is built on this sort of speech?" he muttered.

Renius frowned at him. "I have never lost a battle. Not with my legion, not in the arena. I have never had a man run or break under my command. If you run, you will pass me, and I will not run."

"I won't run," Marcus said clearly, into the silence.

Renius met his eyes, seeing a touch of the madness he had witnessed before.

"Nor will I, Renius," said another.

The others all nodded and murmured that they would sooner die, but still the faces of a few were puckered in terror.

"Your children, your brothers, your fathers will ask you if you did. Be sure you can look them all in the eye."

Heads nodded and shoulders lifted a little straighter.

"Better," Cabera muttered again.

Julius moved easily through the open door onto the courtyard. His breastplate and leggings were oiled and smooth. His short scabbard swung as he walked. His face was a brutal mask as an obvious rage burned inside. The men on the wall turned away from him, looking out over the fields.

"I will take the head of every man from my estate not within these walls," he growled.

Cabera shook his head quickly, not wanting to disagree with the man while those on the wall were listening. "Sir," he whispered. "They all have friends outside. Good men and women who are trapped or unable to fight through to you. Such a threat hurts their morale."

"It pleases me. Every man outside these walls will be killed and I will pile their heads inside the gates! This is my home and Rome is my city. We will cut out the filth that burn the houses and scatter them on the wind! Do you hear me, little man?" His internal fury built into incandescent rage. Renius and Cabera stared at him as he climbed up the corner steps and walked the length of the wall, shouting orders and noting sloppiness.

"For a man in politics, he has an unusual approach to a problem," Cabera said quietly.

"Rome is full of men like him. That, my friend, is why we have an empire, not empty speeches." Renius smiled his shark smile and walked over to where the women waited in a quietly murmuring group.

"What can we do?" asked a slave girl. He recognized her as the one he had whipped so many months ago for distracting the boys in their training. Her name was Alexandria, it came back to him. While the others shrank from his gaze, as befitted the rank of slaves of the house, she held his eyes and waited for his answer.

"Fetch some knives. If anyone gets past the wall, you must fall on them and keep stabbing until they are dead."

A gasp came from a couple of the older women, and one looked a little sick.

"Do you want to be raped and killed? Gods, woman, I am not asking you to stand on the wall, just to protect our backs. There are too few men to bring some down to protect you as well!" He had no patience with their softness. Good for bed, but when you had to depend on one… Gods!

Alexandria nodded. "Knives. The spare wood axe is in the stable, unless someone has it. Go and search for some, Susanna. Quickly now."

A matronly type, still looking pale, trotted off on the errand.

"Can we carry water? Arrows? Fire? Is there anything else we can do?"

"Nothing," Renius snapped, losing patience. "Just make sure you kill anyone that lands in the yard. Put a knife in their throat before they can regain their feet. It's a ten-foot fall; there'll be a moment of weakness when you must strike."

"We won't let you down, sir," Alexandria replied.

He held her gaze for a second longer, noting the flash of hate that broke through the calm demeanor. He seemed to have more enemies in this place than outside the walls!

"See you don't," he said curtly, and turned on his heel.

The cook had returned with a large metal plate strapped to his chest. His enthusiasm was embarrassing, but Renius clapped him on the shoulder as he went to join the others.

Tubruk was standing with Cabera, holding a strung bow in his large hands.

"Old Lucius is a fine shot with a bow, but he's in the kitchens setting up for the wounded," he said, his face grim.

"Get him out here. He can climb down later, when he's done the job," Renius replied, without looking at him. He was scanning the walls, noting the positions, looking for failing nerves. They couldn't hold against a proper attack, so he prayed to his household god that the slaves outside couldn't mount one.

"Will the slaves have bows?" he asked Tubruk.

"One or two small ones for hares, perhaps. There's not a decent bow on the estate except for this-and Cabera's."

"Good. Otherwise, they could pick us all off. We'll have to light the torches in the yard soon, to give them light to kill by. It will silhouette the men, but they can't fight in the dark, not this lot."

"They may surprise you, Renius. Your name has a lot of power still. Remember the crowds at the games? Every man here will have a story for all the generations of his family to come, if he survives."

Renius snorted. "You'd better get to the wall; there's a space on the far side."

Tubruk shook his head. "The others have accepted you as leader, I know. Even Julius will listen to you once his temper calms down. I will stay by Marcus, to protect him. With your permission?"

Renius stared at him. Would nothing work properly? Fat cooks, girls with knives, arrogant children? And now his orders were to be ignored just before a fight? His right fist lifted in a smashing uppercut that seemed to lift Tubruk up and backward. He hit the dust unmoving and Renius ignored him, turning to Cabera.

"When he awakes, tell him the boy can look after himself. I know. Tell him to take his place or I will kill him."

Cabera smiled, his eyes wide, but the old man's face was like winter. In the distance, there was a sudden clamor of metal beating on metal. Sound rose in a wave and chants filled the black night. The torches were lit just as the first few slaves reached the estate wall. Behind them were hundreds from Rome, burning everything in their path.

It very nearly ended before it had begun. As Renius had thought, the wild-looking slaves that streamed up to the estate walls had little idea of how to overcome armed defenders and milled around, shouting and screaming. Although it was a perfect opportunity for bowmen, Renius had shaken his head at Cabera and Lucius, who watched with arrows ready and cold eyes. There was still a chance the slaves would look for easier targets, and a few arrows might fan their rage into white-hot desperation.

"Open the gates!" someone shouted from the mass of torchbearers. In the flickering light, it could have been a festival if it were not for the brutal expressions of the attackers. Renius watched them, weighing options. More and more came from the rear. Clearly there were already more than a small estate could support. Rogue slaves from Rome swelled the ranks with nothing to lose, bringing hate and violence where reason might have won the day. Those at the front were pushed forward and Renius raised his arm, ready to have his two lonely archers send the first shafts into the crowd. They could hardly miss at this range.