Simon Scarrow - The Eagle In the Sand

Macro laughed. 'Let 'em try. As long as this wall's between us there's not much they can do to cut down our numbers.'

'Maybe,' Cato replied quietly. 'But they must know that too.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning that there must be a reason for them to want us to keep our heads down.'

Macro lowered his shield on to the fighting platform. 'They're up to something. I'll be back in a moment.'

He slid off the fighting platform and ran along behind it until he reached the ladder leading up to the main wall. There would be a nasty instant when he emerged in full view of the slingers in the breach, and, bracing himself, he launched himself up the rungs.There was a shout and two slingshots whipped close by, then Macro threw his body up on to the rampart and rolled out of sight. One of the men immediately scurried over and protected him with his shield. Catching his breath Macro nodded his gratitude and then went over to the wall. Making sure that he was sheltered behind one of the crenellations, he peered over the top.

Behind the screen of slingers in the breach there was the pile of bodies from the first assault and beyond that the silent mass of Judaean rebels waiting to attack. As Macro watched them by the wavering orange glow of the torches that ringed the onager, he noticed them pull aside as something passed through the crowd. As yet he could not make out what it was. Then one of the enemy, sharper-eyed than his comrades, spied the prefect's head and loosed a shot at the ramparts. It struck the masonry above Macro's head and chips of stone burst from the wall, several striking Macro in the face, one laying open the flesh at the corner of his left eye.

'Shit!' He recoiled backwards, clutching at his face. 'Shit. Bastard.'

His fingers came away coated in blood and Macro hurriedly undid his neckcloth and mopped the wound. His left eye still had vision, but it was badly blurred and the pain in the socket was searing.

'Sir?' The auxiliary who had protected him with his shield loomed in front of Macro. 'Shall I send for the surgeon?'

'No!' Macro winced. 'I've had worse. I'll be fine.'

The auxiliary looked at him doubtfully and then shuffled away. Macro tried to staunch the flow of blood before he tried again to see what the enemy was bringing forward. The front ranks split open and gave way to a score of men carrying an iron-tipped beam of wood. So that was it, Macro realised. A battering ram. He slithered back to the edge of the rampart and this time he decided not to risk the ladder but lowered himself over the side of the wall a bit further along, and dropped heavily to the ground below. He hurried back to Cato. His friend winced as he saw the wound on Macro's face.

'Sir, you'd better get that seen to.'

Macro shook his head. 'No time for that. We're for it now.They're bringing up a ram. It'll be here any moment.'

They took a quick glance over the breastwork and saw that the slingers were already moving aside as the men carrying the ram struggled up the rubble slope and heaved their burden over the crest and down into the fort. Behind them massed the Judaeans, clutching an assortment of shields and weapons, as well as several ladders, all washed in a pale yellow glow from the fires burning inside the fort. On either side the slingers continued to rain their missiles down on the breastwork. Once the men carrying the ram had cleared the rubble they made straight for the middle of the inner wall where Cato and Macro had taken their position.

'All right!' Macro shouted at the men on either side. 'When I give the command, on your feet. Save your javelins for the men carrying the ram.'

He held his hand out for a javelin, and turned back to Cato as his friend hefted the shaft of his own weapon. 'Ready?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Second Illyrian! Up and at 'em!' Macro rose behind his shield, Cato at his side, and then the rest of the men. Below them, the men at the ram glanced up, but did not hesitate as they lumbered on. Macro raised his arm, balanced the javelin and took aim with the iron head, before he hurled it with all his strength.The weapon flew towards the man at the head of the party carrying the ram, but he saw it and ducked to one side so that the javelin missed him and tore through the forearm of the man behind. Macro swore and reached back for another javelin. Even as he had missed, many of his men had not, and several of the attackers went down, pierced by the lethal iron heads of the weapons. As soon as they fell, replacements rushed up from the dense mass behind and took their place at the ropes that had been fastened round the timber shaft. The reappearance of the Romans above the breastwork provoked the slingers to renew their furious bombardment and there was a sharp cry from the auxiliary standing next to Cato as he was struck in the face with a dull crack. The auxiliary dropped his javelin and let his shield drop for a moment and was immediately hit in the shoulder, the impact driving him round as his knees buckled. Cato could not spare him any help as he hurled his second javelin and turned back to the men behind the wall for another without waiting to see if his throw had been true.

'Get that man to the medics!'

Hands grasped the injured auxiliary and hauled him off the fighting platform. An instant later another man had taken his place, javelin raised and ready to throw. On the other side of the wall, the ground was strewn with wounded and dead, but the survivors had reached the wall and, as someone shouted the time, they swung the ram back and then forward with all their might. Cato felt the platform quake beneath his feet and a section of the breastwork in front of him fell away.

'Get them!' he shouted to his men desperately. 'Get them!'

The auxiliaries responded to the order with a frenzy of hurled javelins that struck down so many men that the enemy could no longer hold the ram and it sank to the ground, until more Judaeans rushed forward, snatched up the rope holds and swung the ram back, and forwards into the wall. This time the impact nearly knocked Cato and Macro off their feet and another large chunk of the makeshift wall collapsed. Macro grabbed Cato's arm and pulled him down behind the breastwork.

'The wall's going to give way soon. Get down and get some men ready to hold the breach. You have to keep them out. Go!'

Cato jumped down from the fighting platform. Glancing back as he felt another blow from the ram he saw loose chunks of stone leap from the wall. He turned back to the reserve force, and became aware that a line of casualties was being treated by medical orderlies by the side of the nearest barracks block. He turned to the closest optio. 'What are the wounded doing here? Get them to the hospital.'

The optio shook his head.'Can't, sir.The fires have cut us off from the centre of the fort.They have to be treated here.'

Cato looked beyond the optio, down the street between the barracks blocks. At the end of the buildings flames and smoke barred his view. Just then a couple of men from Centurion Parmenion's fire-fighting party emerged from the smoke and bent over coughing. They carried smouldering mats in their hands and a moment later they went back to try to beat the flames out. Cato turned back to the optio.

'Find Centurion Parmenion. Tell him he has to clear a way through. I don't care how he does it, but it must be done, or we're going to be caught between the fire and the enemy.' Cato thrust the optio on his way and turned to the other auxiliaries standing to behind the wall.

'Reserve units! On me!'

The men hurried over and formed up in a solid column, shields to the front and javelins now grounded and angled forward, ready to serve as spears. In front of them the wall shook and showered chunks of rock on to the ground under another blow from the ram. On the fighting platform Macro was desperately ushering the men away from the collapsed breastwork so that they would not be caught in the falling masonry when the ram breached the wall.The next blow came, and another, and then after a slight delay the wall fell outwards in a rush of debris and a swirling cloud of dust. Cato clenched his hand tightly round the shaft of his javelin and raised it towards the gap in the inner wall that was wide enough for two men to get through at a time.