“Thank you. Finally we have some understanding. Alright, there’s three of them.”
Looking around urgently for a marker, he reached out to the warrior at the chief’s shoulder and grasped his spear. The man gave him a growl. Without a word, Fronto irritably ripped the spear from his grasp and, walking back to the parapet, he carefully examined the ground and located the entrance to the tunnel outside. Tracing it across the wall with his finger, he jumped down the inside and jammed the spear in the ground there, point first.
“Listen, Iccy. We’re going to mark out the three tunnels and then I’m going to send you on a little scavenger hunt. We’re going to arrange a little surprise for your countrymen in the morning.”
“Eh?”
Chapter 6
(The Remi Oppidum of Bibrax)
“ Testudo: Lit- Tortoise. Military formation in which a century of men closes up in a rectangle and creates four walls and a roof for the unit with their shields.”
“ Miles: the Roman name for a soldier, from which we derive the words military and militia among others.”
The early morning light was eerie. Fronto stood on the wall of Bibrax under the shade of a particularly bushy beech tree and tried to make out details of the Belgae on the plain below. The majority of the Belgic army lay encamped to the east of the oppidum and it was on that side that their main siege works were being carried out. With the sun about to climb, watery and pale, above that horizon, the mass of enemy warriors below was hard to make out in the shadowy gloom.
Clicking his tongue in irritation, he reminded himself that the longer his own men got to rest before the inevitable, the better, so long as it wasn’t more than an hour. Then the timing would be really tight. He turned and looked down inside the walls. Here shade cast by the buildings and trees left the defenders still sitting in virtual darkness, lit by burning torches spaced periodically around the circumference of the oppidum.
“Enjoying breakfast?”
A number of blank uncomprehending faces looked up at him from the gathering behind the wall. While one man in each section remained on watch, the rest of the defenders, whether they be Belgae, Cretan, Spanish, African or Roman, were all gathered in small groups around fires tucking into boars that had been roasting since not long after midnight. An army always fought better with a full belly than an empty one, so long as there was time for it to settle… and Fronto knew how this morning would begin.
There would be a few forays and tests of the new defences but no serious fighting until later, once the Belgae were sure there was no better way and that they could win. Likely, though, the first move would be the continuation of the undermining that had been begun the night before. He smiled.
As soon as things had settled last night, the Belgae back in their camps and drinking, the defenders dry and warm and in position, Fronto had climbed down outside the wall and examined the three tunnels. At first it had struck him as strange that they should have left the tunnels so open to investigation, but then any warriors they had left behind would have been in danger overnight and would have been easily picked off from the walls. The defenders could hardly collapse the tunnels, as they would likely finish the enemy’s job for them that way. Briefly, he’d given thought to filling them in from the spoil heaps the Belgae had left nearby, but in truth it would not have taken them long to clear it back out with such loose earth. No; he had his idea and it should work. He’d looked carefully at the tunnels and nodded appreciatively at the effort that had gone into them.
Groups of warriors had dug the three tunnels and transported the dirt out to the mounds. A long line of warriors protected by wicker shields had carried timbers up the slope, probably under enemy fire in the early stages of the siege, and these had been used to bolster the mine. The tunnels were well worked. Currently, the Belgae had actually reached the level of the wall itself, the tunnel sloping gradually upward so as to avoid the need to dig into the bedrock of the hill.
Without a great deal of knowledge of Belgic siege tactics, Fronto had assumed that they followed much the same system as the civilised peoples to the south. Certainly they had no intention of merely digging tunnels for ingress to the oppidum. Any warriors emerging from the tunnel would be in single file and would be cut to pieces; so the tunnels were there to collapse the wall. The tunnel would have to go another three or four feet beneath the wall itself and then open out slightly to either side. Then, during the first assault of the day, grapple lines would be thrown over the defences. A hefty tug from the Belgae and the wood and dirt-packed walls would crumble and collapse into the holes.
With a grin, Fronto dropped down the inner face of the wall and walked over to the spot where he’d marked the location of a tunnel with a spear. Since late last night, teams of auxiliary soldiers and Remi locals had worked under the directions of Roman officers, throughout the hours of darkness, to complete the tunnels from within the walls. Now there were three clear passageways under the walls, shored up with strong timber. Mounds of spoil sat next to the tunnel entrances both inside and outside the walls.
He smiled again and, wandering over to the fire, gathered a plate full of meat cuts and a few chunks of fresh bread. Returning to the wall, he settled down to wait, watching the enemy below while eating the tasty meal.
The Belgae finally came once the sun was fully above the horizon. At first they came with great care, some warriors holding large screens constructed of several layers of woven wicker backed by leather and light wooden spars to protect their companions from arrow fire, the rest gathered into three groups, heading for the tunnels.
Fronto heaved a sigh of relief as missiles began to drop down towards the attackers, but only occasional pot-shots as the opportunity presented itself. Satisfying. It had taken quite some time last night to explain through his officers to the multinational assembly that was his army, that they needed to take enough shots at the enemy so that the Belgae would be lulled into a false sense of security, but not enough to actually stop them reaching the tunnels or frighten them off. An arrow whizzed past him and landed one of the wicker shields below with a dull thud.
Fronto tapped his finger on his lower lip as he watched the approach. It was slow going. His men would have to show serious restraint, as he was sure that they could easily have picked most of them off before they reached the tunnel entrances. Finally the Belgae reached the spoil heaps and the screen-bearers peeled off, running around the entrance and planting the wicker shields heavily into the ground, supporting them with beams and creating an effective missile screen.
As the first warriors reached the tunnel mouth, Fronto raised his arm and dropped it.
“First team!”
Despite the communication difficulties, plans had been drawn up during the night and set with appropriate groups. At his command, by the entrance to all three tunnels, a group of four Remi overturned a barrel into the entrance. The top of each barrel had been punctured with a hole around six inches across. Liquid glugged and gurgled from the holes, pouring into a carefully-angled drainage channel the Roman defenders had excavated in the floor of the tunnel.
With another satisfied smile, Fronto watched the barbarians below enter the tunnel. He could hear them talking in their strange language and hoped against hope that they hadn’t realised their error. He took a deep breath. There was laughter. Likely the barbarians had smelled the roasted hog drifting down the long passageway. Hopefully it wouldn’t occur to them that the smells should not permeate a half-dug tunnel.
Once more he raised and dropped his arm.
“Second Team!”