The Pillars of Rome by Jack Ludlow Read Free Book Online Page B

Metullus had at his disposal. And to all she had repeated the same thing.
    ‘We need not hold for long. My husband is at this very moment on his way to rescue us.’
    It had been a while before the truth dawned. Through the dust kicked up by the tribesmen seeking to break into the circle of wagons, it was just possible to observe that the Roman legions had formed up in a hedgehog defence, shields up to the front, the rest over their heads to protect against arrows, the whole forward-moving assembly bristling with protruding spears. What they had not seen was the hastari , Aulus’s best troops, moving past the baggage train, not towards it, going to the rescue of the allied legions. Claudia could not know that on receipt of her message, her husband had had no choice but to save his army before he could think of saving her.
    Inside the circle of wagons the death toll had risen inexorably. Metullus had fought as well as he could, husbanding his men, waiting till the last moment to close any breach that the attackers had gained, but each counter-attack stepped over the bodies of fallen comrades; each success in repulsing the enemy had been bought at the expense of casualties, diminishing a force that was already too weak in numbers. The wounded had fought alongside those who could still walk, well aware that death would follow defeat and in the background, above all the shouting, cursing and clash of arms they had heard trumpets, Roman trumpets ordering manoeuvres that they prayed were to aid them.
    Metullus had pulled his men back just as collapse was imminent, when three sections of his wall of wagons had been breached so that the last thirty surviving soldiers had formed a shield around the wagon that contained the personal baggage of Aulus and his family. Inside that shield crowded every one of the non-combatants of the army. Some had wailed, others cried silently, a few looked so shocked as to be unaware of what was happening, but most, men and women, Romans in the main, had stared at the enemy with undisguised contempt and had prayed to Fortuna , the Goddess of Fate.
    ‘Lady Claudia, it is my duty to offer you the use of my sword.’
    Claudia had looked into the blood-covered face of Metullus, at the gashes on both arms from sword cuts, as well as a great slash across his forehead that had left a flap of skin hanging over one eye. Dust had coated the blood, as well as the rest of him, armour included. Claudia had whipped off the embroidered linen shawl that covered her head, and pushing that filthy flap of skin upwards, had wrapped it round Metullus’s head so that he could see properly.
    ‘You need your sword to defend us, Gaius Metullus.’
    When she could see both eyes, she saw a pain in them greater than that which came from his wounds, for like him she could see how the Celt-Iberiantribesmen had crept cautiously through the gaps in the wagons in numbers too great to contest.
    ‘Be aware of what awaits you, Lady.’
    ‘It awaits all we women, Metullus. I would not have you spare me the fate of the rest.’
    ‘Then I shall kill you all.’
    ‘Do you not know that some of my ancestors were Sabine, Metullus? They survived and so shall I.’
    Metullus had actually smiled then at the reference to the Rape of the Sabine Women, a piece of Roman folklore known to every citizen of the city-state, a story of brutal Roman soldiers who had assaulted the defenceless wives of their defeated enemies.
    ‘Face your destiny, Metullus, and I will face mine.’ Pearls were embroidered into her shawl, now wrapped round the soldier’s head. She had pulled off two and handed him one. ‘Pay the ferryman with this in place of a coin. That should ensure that your journey over the River Styx to Hades will be a comfortable one.’
    The cry behind, as well as the low moan from those around him had told Metullus the final assault was coming. For the second time that day he had raised his sword blade to his lips, to salute the bravery of