A thin trail of smoke rose against the sky. The fort, at least, was still occupied.
‘All of the chiefs who’ve surrendered in the last few days are sure that Drustagnus has gathered a last warband,’ Victorinus said. ‘Probably only a few hundred men. We’ve got cavalry scouting all the valleys around here, so they shouldn’t be able to slip away. It looks like a strong position, though. Direct assault along the ridge might be the only way to take it.’
Castus glanced at the tribune. Victorinus was a sober, sol shy;dierly officer, with a broad face and a big chin and very large, prominent teeth. The men of the cohort privately called him the mule. But Castus trusted him. He nodded.
‘Tribune,’ he said, ‘I’ve been over the hill crest and along the valley at the far side. That was the way I came down when I escaped.’ The horses shifted, twitching their ears. Victorinus motioned for him to continue.
‘If a small party of men, a century or two,’ Castus went on, ‘got down into that valley, I think they could climb up to the walls undetected. If the defenders were distracted, they could get inside and open the gates…’
Victorinus frowned more deeply, running his tongue over his teeth. ‘An artillery attack from the ridge to the north-west might be distraction enough,’ he said. He fixed Castus with a narrow stare. ‘You’d have to lead the assault party yourself, though. Do you think you could do it?’
‘I think so, dominus.’ Castus tried to recall the events of that night: his escape from the hut; the killing of Decentius and the wild scramble down over the walls and palisades; the race through the hills with the dogs behind him… He tried not to think of what had happened before that: his promise to Cunomagla. Was she really inside the fort now?
‘I don’t remember it too clearly,’ he said. ‘It was dark. Misty. But I’m sure I could find a way in.’
Victorinus nodded, satisfied. ‘Think your men are up to it, centurion?’
‘Yes, dominus. At every command we will be ready…’
The tribune stared up again at the walls of the fort on the hilltop. He bared his long teeth in a grimace. ‘Incredible to think you were a captive in that place!’ he said.
‘Yes, dominus.’
‘I admit, I can hardly imagine what it must have been like to be a prisoner of such savages.’ He shook his head, hissing grimly. ‘The indignities they must have forced on you…’
‘Yes, dominus,’ Castus said, reddening, but could not meet the tribune’s eye.
‘Look at those German cocksuckers!’ Modestus laughed. ‘Hey, Minervia!’ he called out. ‘Put some balls into it!’
All across the flank of the hill, the legionaries of I Minervia were toiling upwards, stripped to their tunics, lugging heavy baulks of shaped timber, rolls of cable and sheaves of iron-tipped bolts. Some hefted huge earthenware jars, carrying them carefully in rope slings. Castus paused to watch them; the line of men stretched away down the hill towards the marching camp in the valley below. Cavalry troopers stood guard all along the route.
‘Let’s go,’ Castus said, and gestured on upwards. The men of his century straggled behind him, climbing up the steeper slope past the labouring legionaries. They were sweating in full equipment and armour; none carried spears or javelins, but every sixth man had a coil of rope and a hooked grapnel over his shoulder.
Reaching the crest of the ridge, Castus paused again, breath shy;ing hard. The engineers were at work here in the hot sun, piling together stones and turf to build artillery platforms. Along the ridge to the east the ground dipped, and then rose again, and there at the last summit Castus could see the fort. It appeared very close now, fewer than five hundred paces away, and very clear in the bright daylight. He could pick out the figures of men moving on the wall ramparts, gesticulating and waving spears.
‘Why don’t they try to escape?’ Diogenes said, coming up behind him. ‘They can surely see what’s happening up here.’
‘They must think they can hold out against us.’
‘They’ve got a shock coming then!’ called Modestus. The optio was bringing up the rear of the century, herding the last stragglers up onto the summit. ‘They haven’t seen what one of these bastards can do!’ He gestured to the first of the artillery platforms, where the engineers were slotting and bolting the heavy timbers together, preparing the drums of cable that they would tighten into powerful torsion springs. Already the first of the massive long-armed onager catapults was taking shape. Further east, where the ground dipped, groups of soldiers from VIII Augusta were assembling the smaller bolt-throwing ballistae only a couple of hundred paces from the fort.
But those huge stone walls, cut into the hillside and lined with palisades, looked strong enough even to resist artillery. Maybe, Castus thought, the defenders were not so stupid after all.
‘Could we not merely starve them out?’ Diogenes asked, looking perplexed. ‘Surely we’d need only to wait, and after a few days…’
‘Where’s the fun in that?’ Castus said, and cuffed the teacher’s shoulder. ‘Anyway, there’s no glory in it. Not the Roman way.’
Diogenes gave a resigned shrug. ‘These are your arts, O Roman,’ he gravely intoned, ‘to impose peace, spare the van shy;quished, and crush the proud… I suppose it must be so, then.’
‘Mule approaching,’ Flaccus the signifer muttered under his breath.
‘Dominus!’ Castus cried, standing to attention as Victorinus strode towards them. The rest of the century shuffled into line behind him.
‘Brothers,’ the tribune said, ‘the great work commences!’ The rest of the assault party were coming up the hill now, led by Valens and the third centurion, a wiry African named Rogatianus, who had been promoted from Legion XXII Primi shy;genia. The centurions gathered around Victorinus, giving their salutes.
The tribune showed his teeth as he squinted, pointing with his staff towards the fort. ‘As you can see,’ he said, ‘the land falls away on both sides and to the rear. Once night falls, the artillery attack will begin on the north-west side, facing us here… They’ll be using incendiary missiles, to set fires along the rampart there and among the huts in the lower enclosure behind it. Meanwhile, you’ll drop down off the ridge to the south and circle around into the valley to the east…’
Castus sucked his lip, trying to judge the distances in his mind.
‘Once you see the flames take hold,’ the tribune went on, ‘you’ll climb up the far slope to the south-east rampart. Castus’s century will lead. Once you reach the rampart, get inside as soon as you can…’
‘What if they see us climbing the hill?’ Valens asked.
‘Then you’ll have to fight your way in, and may the gods aid you in that. Hopefully the defenders will be distracted by the artillery attack. Once you’re inside the lower enclosure, one group will circle around to the right and seize the main gate from the inside, over there at the north-east end of the fort. A storming party from the Eighth Augusta will be waiting outside. Give a single call on the horn, then open the gates and let them in. A second group will scale the inner wall and enter the upper enclosure, then circle around in the same way and secure the inner gate. It’s vital that you do so – otherwise the storming party will be trapped between the two walls.’
‘Oh, a simple exercise then,’ Valens said. He glanced warily at Castus. ‘Was this all Knucklehead’s idea?’
‘We’ve had patrols up and down the valley to the east all day,’ Victorinus said, ignoring the remark, ‘so it should be clear of hostiles, but once you’re down there, keep silent and stay under cover until you’re ready to begin the assault. When you see the first fires, get moving. The watchword is Constantius Victor… We’ve got four hours until dusk, and there’s a work camp below the summit over there – rest your men and have them cook and eat. They won’t get any more hot food until tomorrow.’