Hero of Rome Read Free Page B

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    Valerius stared up at the fortress on the flat-topped hill. He had seen native oppida like it many times but this was by far the largest and the most skilfully constructed. He studied it carefully, impressed by the engineering. The approaches had been cunningly designed to force attackers to assault the palisaded walls from an angle, so that they would be more exposed to the slings and spears of the defenders. He could see those defenders now, a silent line of heads silhouetted against the sky above the first of the three ramparts that encompassed an area measuring as much as two legionary encampments.
    The legate called for his chief engineer, who had been summoned from Glevum when a siege became inevitable. ‘It may look formidable,’ Livius growled. ‘But this place is no Alesia and I do not have Caesar’s patience. How long before the heavy weapons are ready?’
    The man chewed his lip but Livius knew him well enough to be certain he had the answer to hand. ‘One hour for the onagers and ballistas, perhaps two more for the big catapults. We had a little trouble at the last river crossing …’
    ‘You have two hours to put everything in place’ – he also knew the engineer well enough to be certain he had built in the leeway to be able to meet his general’s deadline – ‘two onagers, two ballistas and a single catapult between each pair of watchtowers.’
    Later, the heavy chopping sound that was instantly recognizable as the discharge of a ballista brought him from his tent. He looked up at the sun and a particularly sensitive watcher might have noted the shadow of a smile cross the stern features. Two hours less perhaps ten minutes. Good.
    ‘A ranging shot, sir, short by a dozen yards,’ the engineer announced. ‘A waste of a bolt, but we’ll do better this time. More tension on the rope there!’
    Valerius hurried across to join them and watched as the weapon’s commander hauled on the winch, and the two front arms of the ballista bent noticeably back as the ratchet turned noisily. It was a big bow, really, one that shot massive, five-foot arrows with heavy, needle-pointed iron heads. A big mechanical bow encased in a wooden frame and mounted on a cart for easy transportation. They called the arrows ‘shield-splitters’ and he had seen the destruction they could do to an enemy battle line. They would be equally deadly when they fell among the British warriors and the shambling mob of refugees who had sought the false security of the fortress walls. Those walls were now ringed by twenty ballistas and the same number of onagers, the little stone-throwing catapults. Experience told him the onagers would struggle to hurl their ten-pound projectiles over the walls of the inner rampart, but they would add to the chaos and the panic. There would be no such problems for the big catapults. The long, fifteen-foot arm could throw a boulder five times the size of a man’s head from one side of this hill to the other.
    ‘Weapon armed and ready, sir.’
    The engineer scuttled round to the rear of the ballista and stared along the launching ramp towards the fortress. ‘Another elevation.’
    The ballista commander lifted the central beam of the weapon a notch and stood back as the engineer again checked the aim, the calculations twitching one by one across his furrowed brow. Eventually he turned back towards Livius. ‘You have the honour, general.’
    The legate nodded. ‘Ballista … fire!’
    From the eastern gateway of his fortress the Silurian chieftain heard a soft thud at the base of the hill and detected a flicker of movement against the green and brown of the earth below. In the same second some force disturbed the air close by his left shoulder, plucking at the heavy cloth of his cloak, and a moment later he heard a shriek from within the fortress behind him. He turned, knowing what he would see. At first he wasn’t certain whether it was one person or two writhing in the dust. They must