Act 3, Chapter 2 of The Ashes of Rome
I squinted upward. The cliff face loomed over us, with the summit at least a hundred feet above. A crack in the surface caught my eye and suggested a possible solution to our predicament. I started to map the cracks that crisscrossed the cliff’s surface. Yes, if we could somehow reach that promontory. I stepped onto a large rock and carefully jammed my fingers into a large crevice. Pulling myself up, I strained to reach another outcropping with my foot…
BAWK! BAWKBAWKBAWK!
Startled, I let go of my handhold and slid down the cliff to land in a pile of dust and small stones.
“Must you bring that damn thing everywhere?” I demanded, wiping blood from my arm where it had dragged across rough stone.
“She doesn’t like being alone, Talos,” Urus protested. “She thinks someone’s going to eat her!”
I whirled on him so fast that he backpedaled, almost losing his grip on Cluck the Chicken. “If you insist on bringing her next time, I’ll be the one eating her!”
My anger startled both Urus and Cluck, the latter of which set up a terrible din and flapped her wings so hard that feathers flew everywhere.
“You scared her!”
“Good! Maybe she’ll be more accepting of being left behind.”
Urus clutched Cluck to his chest.
“Get rid of the chicken, Urus. Do it now, before I find a spit and a fire. Our rations are short enough without the added insult of seeing perfectly good food strutting around.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the other warriors. Urus’s brows drew down in a look that I knew well.
“The first one who tries it is a dead man. Maybe we can roast the corpse over a fire!”
Perhaps I had pushed him too far. “Peace, Urus! I’m sorry; she startled me, is all.”
Urus did not look satisfied. “Apologize to Cluck.”
Chuckles sounded from all around, and I saw Urus’s lip quirk in a quick smile. I breathed a sigh of relief. I bent down and spoke to Urus’s chest. “My sincerest apologies, dear Cluck. May your delicious thighs and succulent breasts never grace the inside of a cookpot.”
Laughter erupted from the gathered warriors, and Urus clapped me happily on the shoulder before making toward his tent, Cluck in tow. For a moment, I envied him. Instead of wine or Catta, I headed for the one place I was sure Brennus would be: the Forum.
✸✸✸
The Forum was less crowded than usual. The cool air of autumn gave relief from the blistering summer heat, but the truth was that our supplies were running dangerously low. Brennus was forced to send scouts farther and farther afield with each passing day. If the siege did not end soon…
“Talos, tell me you have good news.” Brennus stood beside one of the chairs strewn about the Forum, hawk nose more pronounced now that his face was pinched from short rations, but his eyes still commanded.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “There might be a way up one of the cliffs. It’s arduous, though, and it would require a ladder and then climbing.”
“Tell me,” he said, and I did. When I was finished, he sat back and let out a low whistle. “What you propose is incredibly risky.”
I had to agree. “It would have to be under the cover of darkness, but that section of the hill is the least guarded. If we can get but a few warriors to the top, they can sneak to the gate, open it, and let the rest of our forces through.”
Brennus thought about it for a moment. “It’s promising, I’ll grant you that. We’d need light-footed fighters for this.”
“We’d need both stout warriors and those more lithesome. Someone must hold the ladder, and there will be sections where the ladder may not avail us, in which case our warriors would become the ladder.”
Brennus laughed. “Well, it sounds like Urus will have a role. The great aurochs could hold up a mountain alone.”
“I have several others in mind, including myself.”
“Who do you intend to go over the precipice and open the gate?”
“Lukotorix and one or two of his scouts. They’re the most adept at this kind of thing, but limiting the number we send up will mean less chance they’re spotted before they reach the gate.”
“They would need to shroud their weapons. A glint of moonlight on steel or the clang of a blade on stone could give the whole thing away.”
“Agreed.”
“When are you thinking about pulling this harebrained scheme off?”
I grinned. “Why wait? Tonight suits me just fine.”
“Good. The sooner we deal with those huddling behind their walls, the sooner we can march home. We’ve been away too long as it is.”
✸✸✸
Nightfall came quickly, and I was grateful. The warriors I’d chosen gathered at the base of the hill, and I recounted our goal. “Lukotorix, Drutalos, and Catta, your task is simple: scale the cliff, breach the Romans’ defenses, reach the gate, and open it so that our forces can enter.” I encompassed all three with my gaze. “Stealth is the most important thing, so keep the bloodshed to a minimum, at least until the rest of us are on the other side of the gate. Urus and the rest of us will support you as you climb. The ladder will get us partway up the cliff, but much of it will require other means of ascent.”
“What are you suggesting?” Urus asked.
“We become the ladder,” I said with a grin. “It will require significant effort, and some of us are simply too large to make the entire ascent.” I elbowed Urus.
“That just means I’ll be the first through the gate.”
“Assuming you can get back down in one piece,” Catta jibed, and several others laughed.
“As amusing as this is, we’re wasting darkness. Make sure your weapons are well wrapped, and let’s get this over with.”
While everyone busied themselves with making sure their weapons were shrouded, I took Catta aside. “I—” I began, but the words jammed themselves together in my throat. “You—” I tried again, with no better luck.
Catta’s laugh was husky, echoing the same emotions that burdened my own heart. “I’ll be careful, Talos. You do the same.” And then she was kissing me, and I lost myself in the sweet warmth of her lips.
A cough from behind broke our embrace. “We’re ready,” Urus informed me. “Save your energy for afterward. Catta’ll be wanting a good bedding after her exploits tonight, no doubt.”
“What’s wrong with before and after?” Catta teased, but she grabbed her shrouded spear and stepped to where a hastily crafted ladder leaned against the cliff face. She squinted upward into the night. “And this is supposed to get us where?”
I pointed, although it did little good in the gloom. “There’s an outcrop just to the right. We’ll climb the ladder, reach the outcrop, then use finger and toeholds to reach the next outcrop. It’ll be hard going, one at a time, and we’ll have to help each other. The first scout goes up, gets their footing, then helps the one behind ascend, and so on. Weapons will be passed hand to hand as we climb.”
“Trust Talos to make a night assault a chore,” someone groused behind me.
Without turning around, I shot back, “Perhaps you’d like to try the front gate again? That didn’t work out so well for some of my friends.” The heckler fell silent. I looked to Lukotorix. “Your scouts will need to go first, and I’d recommend moving from the slightest to stoutest.”
The Mouse King nodded. “Catta, you’ll follow me, then Drutalos will bring up the rear.” And then he was scaling the ladder. Within moments, the night closed in around him, his mouse-skin cloak making him all but invisible.
✸✸✸
We climbed from ledge to ledge, sometimes from crevice to crevice. Sometimes the gap between ledges was too far for one person to reach. In those cases, we were forced to create human chains and haul warriors from ledge to ledge one at a time. More than once, some of our shorter comrades were forced to stand on the shoulders of those taller than they were.
Several spots were exposed to the circuitous routes the Roman guards followed atop the hill. We were forced to pause before entering these spaces, which usually meant hanging from our fingertips and toes and praying that our strength would last. We spotted guards more than once, but they were either too exhausted to pay much attention or else the gods shrouded us in shadows.
The cliff itself complicated our ascent. The rock bit into my fingers and ate at the toes of my boots. It was a treacherous type of stone, given to crumbling, which I learned the hard way. I jammed my fingers into a handhold, brought my foot up to a toehold, but failed to test my perch. The stone held just long enough for me to feel confident in releasing my left hand and reaching for the next fissure when the ledge gave way beneath my foot. My heart lurched, and I bit down against my cry of surprise. I managed to catch myself with my right hand, but for long moments I dangled over the drop, my arm burning from the strain, as I scrabbled fruitlessly for purchase. The sound of stone cascading down the cliff face seemed as loud as thunder in the night.
After what felt like hours, we came to the most difficult part of my plan. The upper section of the cliff was not completely vertical. It was very steep, but not impassable for a determined warrior. The true challenge was that the slope was entirely covered in loose stones. A single wrong step could send the scree sliding, stones clacking against one another, and alerting any guards who might be about. Above the scree field stood a stone wall almost twice a man’s height and, beyond that, the Arx. This was the point beyond which I could not go, and the reason we’d brought Lukotorix and his scouts. Urus and most of the rest of the ascent team had remained on the ledge below, preparing to descend. I would join them, then circle back to the road up to the gate. If all went as planned, Lukotorix and the others would open the gate, and we’d end this business.
I touched Catta’s arm. “Glory to you and blood to your spear.”
“Gods be with you,” she finished the ritual, then kissed me again.
“It’s time,” Lukotorix said, and began carefully ascending the slope. Catta followed, with Drutalos bringing up the rear once more. The man was less light-footed than either Catta or the Mouse King, and I prayed to any god who might be listening for luck. Then they were halfway up the slope, and I held my breath, biting the inside of my cheek so hard it drew blood. They reached the two-thirds mark, and I began to believe that the gods would smile on us. Lukotorix was almost to the base of the wall, with Catta hard behind, and Drutalos closing the gap. Catta interlinked her hands, and the Mouse King vaulted to the top of the wall, then dropped to his stomach and reached to help Catta up. Drutalos hurried ahead, but in his haste, he grew careless. He stepped too close to a larger stone, and the side of his boot caught it, sending it skidding down the slope — clack-clack-click-crack! The sound echoed through the night.
“Fool!” Lukotorix hissed.
Drutalos tried to recover but stumbled and dropped to one knee. More stones cascaded down the hill, hissing and clacking together. He froze there, unsure whether he should push on or retreat down the slope, and that decision sealed his fate. Lukotorix and Catta disappeared from the top of the wall, leaving the other scout behind.
“Drutalos, come back—” but before I could finish my whispered order, an unearthly noise broke out on the hill above us. It was a horrendous cacophony of honks and flapping wings that only grew louder and louder.
“Gods, what’s happening?” Drutalos whispered, sliding to a halt beside me.
“It sounds like…geese.”
“What would the Romans be doing with geese?”
“Who knows the Roman mind?”
A cry of pain cut through the bedlam, and I saw a dark shape falling through the night. Lukotorix’s body crashed into the scree field and slid downward too fast for me to reach. He went over the edge bonelessly, blood blackening his torso.
On the wall above us, two figures danced. One was lithe and wielded a spear like Cathobudua herself. The other was stocky and fought with a sword and shield. The helm proclaimed him a Roman soldier, but I could make out nothing of his features in the night.
Catta fought like a force of nature, her spear dancing faster than lightning. The head dipped in, punching into the Roman’s shoulder, then she reversed the stroke and twisted, bringing the weapon’s butt around to sweep the soldier’s feet out from under him, but his sword was faster despite the wound. A mighty swing cleaved Catta’s spear haft in two, and then it was his turn to go on the offensive. He smashed her in the side with his shield, sending her sailing from the wall. Like Lukotorix before her, she smashed into the scree and careened down the slope.
There was no way I could stop her at that speed, but I wasn’t about to let that keep me from trying. I ran several steps up the slope and readied myself. Catta slid toward me, her eyes wide and one hand outstretched. I reached for her, grabbing her arm just above the wrist, then turned with her as she slid past. I threw myself backward toward the incline. Her weight pulled me off balance, but our grip held, and her descent slowed and turned, giving her just enough time to slam the broken spear haft into the ground. I held my breath, both of us now sliding toward the edge and certain death, when the spear finally bit into a gap in the stone. We jerked to a stop, Catta grasping both the spear haft and my arm, while I dangled halfway over the edge. She pulled me back to safety, then clutched me to her, breathing hard.
“Lukotorix didn’t make it,” I told her.
Catta shook her head. “He was dead before he hit the slope. Damned geese alerted the Romans to our presence, and he was ahead of me when the soldiers showed up. Took a sword thrust through the gut but still had the strength to fight that bastard long enough for me to get to him.”
“I think it’s safe to say that we won’t be getting in this way.”
“No, you’re right—”
And then pila, arrows, and stones began raining down around us, and we had other things to occupy our time.
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