Адриан Голдсуорти - The Encircling Sea

Cerialis saw the wood of the parapet, the drab shield of one of the defenders in his path, and a spearhead came past his own shield and only just missed his face. Then the pirate vanished, falling back with the bolt from one of the engines in the throat. The prefect took another step, then another, and punched a warrior in the face with the boss of his shield, knocking the man back. With a shout, a soldier had pulled the stunned trooper off the other ladder and was climbing. Cerialis stabbed with his sword through the opening in the parapet, striking against a shield, but once again his opponent went back a step. Vindex watched from the ditch, saw a man coming from the side, knew the prefect could not see him, saw the slicing blow of his sword break through the boards of Cerialis’ shield, but then the pirate fell with a bolt in his shoulder.

The testudo was almost at the gate, the wounded pirate slipping with each movement and sobbing with pain. Up on the rampart men were lifting something heavy. An archer saw the bronze cauldron and yelled a warning, even as he loosed an arrow. One of the pirates carrying it let go, clutching at the shaft in his arm. More archers shot, and it was enough to panic the men so that the cauldron tipped too early. One of the pirates screamed as the scalding oil splashed onto his legs. Wood on the parapet smouldered, but most of the contents went in a wave down the stone side of the rampart. A legionary yelped as little spots of hot oil flicked onto his breeches. More struck the pirate lying on top of the testudo, and he writhed, making the shields bob underneath him. Then the cauldron thumped onto his chest, breaking ribs, and the men underneath staggered.

‘Hold together, lads. Nearly there,’ the centurion called. ‘Another pace, another. Now!’

The front rank had held their rectangular shields ahead of them. Now they raised them, adding to the roof of shields so that it reached the timbers of the gate. The second rank was tightly packed against them, for it consisted of sailors with axes and the dolabra pick-axe that was the army’s universal tool, and these men squeezed past to get to the front. There was not much room, but they swung the blades and started to bite into the timber. Stones smacked onto the shields above them, and then a pirate who had leaned over to throw at them screamed because an arrow hit him in the face.

The marines were raising their ladder, men starting to climb, when a second cauldron appeared on the wall. It was too heavy for the pirates to carry up to the gate and use on the testudo, so they raised it here and strained as they tipped the mouth over. Warning shouts came too late, and the stream of yellow liquid hissed as it fell. Men screamed as their flesh was scorched and blistered. One fell from the ladder, arms flailing. Another man was desperately struggling with the shoulder buckles on his mail because the liquid had seeped inside and was burning him. A shout of triumph came from the rampart.

Over to the left, near the sea, Cerialis was on the wall and could not remember how he had vaulted across. Two infantrymen and a trooper were beside him, the closest pirates dead, wounded or holding back, and the prefect bellowed because they had done it and were up.

‘Come on,’ he shouted to his men, and led them along the walkway to clear it of enemies. More and more Batavians clambered up behind them. There was a smooth ramp behind the wall, and the prefect kept an eye open in case some of the Harii gathered to attack him in the flank, but there was no sign of this. Men on the wall saw him coming and turned to face him, and he stabbed and hacked at them, smelling their rank breath as he killed them.

Vindex grunted with effort as he pulled himself up over the parapet. To his right the prefect and a dozen Batavians were making good progress along the wall, as the centurion led another twenty down across the ramp to cover their advance. There seemed fewer of the Harii and Usipi than he expected, and no sign of a reserve waiting to beat back any breaks in the line. Dark smoke rose from the cluster of roofs inside the stronghold. The Brigantian waited for Segovax, the Red Cat, and the others to join him. Probus needed help to get in and his pain was obvious.

‘You should stay here and rest,’ Longinus told him.

‘No,’ was the only answer the merchant would give. Behind them, Crispinus led the fifty legionaries kept in reserve and a force of sailors in through the entrance. Cerialis had passed the spot where the smoking ladder raised by the marines still stood, and the blue-grey clad men threw a couple of grapnel lines onto the parapet and were starting to climb. The rampart curved so that he could not see the gate, only the tower above it, and pirates were still there, hurling anything they could find down into the ditch. Vindex doubted that the legionaries would break through before the gates were opened from inside. The stronghold was falling, there was no doubt of that.

‘Which way?’ Longinus asked.

Vindex pointed at the smoke from the burning building, suspecting that his friend was behind such mischief. He circled his arm to point that they would work their way round to the left. No one spoke as they headed down the grassy ramp behind the wall.

The barn burned faster than Ferox expected, part of its thatched roof collapsing in a great gout of flame and smoke as he ran past it, feeling the wave of heat. There must have been something stored there to make the fire rage so quickly. He saw Brigita, waiting where the alley wound sharply round a house. Women were screaming, but he could not see them and guessed that the cries were prompted by the fire. He coughed because the smoke was blowing around him, little pieces of burning thatch wafting on the wind.

Ferox came around the corner, and was glad to see that someone had had enough sense to take them all back past the next bend. Around that corner the path opened out, and he found his little force waiting for him. He stood in the middle, Brigita beside him, with the redhead next to her and two of the lads to make up the rest of the front rank. The others waited behind them. The house to their left gave them some shelter from the smoke, but he could hear their pursuers spluttering before they reached the corner.

A hope that Cniva might lead so that they could kill him proved vain when half a dozen pirates spilled into the lane ahead of them, their shields on the wrong side because of the bend.

‘Now!’ Ferox yelled and the second rank threw javelins. One of the enemy was hit in the leg, another on the hand, making him let go of his sword.

‘Charge!’ Ferox screamed the command in Latin, but the others understood and followed as he ran at the pirates. Men turned, wanting to flee, but there were others behind them and in the tight alleyway there was no room to escape. He punched with his shield, making the man with the wounded hand stagger, and then rammed the gladius into his belly, feeling the long triangular point snap through the mail cuirass. Brigita cut down another before he could turn and use his shield for protection. A lad drove his leaf-headed spear right through the thigh of a pirate, so that the head burst out the other side, but the weapon stuck there, and the wounded man turned his scream of agony into one of anger as he hacked at the boy’s neck. The young warrior fell, blood jetting high, and the bare-breasted girl stepped over him and finished the pirate with a thrust through his mouth. A man came at Ferox, his shield up too high so that he could not see, and he swept underneath with his sword, cutting almost through the pirate’s leg.

Suddenly the Harii were gone, apart from those left dead or moaning in the mud of the alley. Ferox glimpsed the rest running, then a waft of black smoke made him blink.