‘Probably not,’ said Ballista. ‘It needs something else — something to sow panic among the attackers. I had thought to use the Fides — cast off tonight, conceal her on one of the islands in the Hypanis, when the Goths were committed tomorrow, land and attack their flank. But Centurion Regulus has removed that option. Although I think there is something else …’
VIII
Olbia
‘Everyone wants redemption.’ The chains prevented Heliodorus from moving.
‘It has to be earned,’ said Ballista. It was dark in the cellar, hard to see.
‘Releasing me will not make all the crew of the Fides love you.’
‘Maybe not,’ Ballista smiled. ‘They all hated me — only you did something about it.’
‘Back in Alexandria, my father — may the earth lie light on him — often said my anger would be the death of me.’
‘I have much to do before tonight.’ Ballista was brusque. ‘Will you take an oath?’
‘We will do what is ordered, and at every command we will be ready.’ Heliodorus actually laughed. ‘I swear by holy Serapis, and all my ancestral gods, that I will obey your orders.’
‘Not seek to harm me or my familia?’
‘Not seek to harm you or your familia.’
Ballista looked at the dark, motionless shape of the other chained mutineer. ‘What about him?’
‘Your Hibernian hit him too hard. He may not live.’
‘If he recovers, and will take an oath, he, too, will be released.’
‘And if the oath is too much?’
‘The same as would have happened to you — his commilitones will beat him to death.’ Ballista’s tone contained no emotion. ‘You will be one of them.’
‘Is an oath extracted under compulsion binding?’
‘If I were in your position, I would not raise such philosophical points.’
Again Heliodorus laughed. ‘Do not be concerned. I will earn my redemption.’
The gentle touch of a fingertip just behind his ear: the accustomed signal. As he woke, silently and instantaneously, Ballista thought to see Calgacus. It was Maximus.
‘Anything?’ Ballista asked softly.
‘No. It will be dawn soon.’
The abandoned winery was crowded, packed with recumbent figures, the air very stale. Ballista groaned slightly as he shifted. Sleeping in chainmail on a stone floor was not easy. Worse as you got older. He was pleased he had slept at all. But then, he had been very tired. There had been much to do.
Few hours of daylight had been left by the time the Olbians had acceded to Ballista’s plan and put themselves in his hands. A semicircle of streets and alleys behind the north gate had been barricaded. Overturned carts, barrels, furniture and lumber had been roped together and pegged down to make them immovable — all except on the main road, where two large wagons, hastily pallisaded, made a barrier which could quickly be opened. Rough holes had been knocked in the dividing walls between some of the buildings where the defenders needed to move about. The rear doors and the windows of others had been nailed shut or boarded over. Loop holes had been hacked in their ceilings, to turn the ground floors of these into killing traps. In those buildings which had flat roofs or thatch, old amphorae and stones had been carried up to the top. The tiles on the majority, as ever in urban combat, would make excellent missiles. The great general Pyrrhus of Epirus had been killed by one dropped by an old woman. The blacksmiths in the town had hastily produced some crude caltrops. They were to be thrown out into the streets when the defenders had withdrawn to the barricades. Although more effective against cavalry, in the confusion of the coming fight they should give the attacking infantry another concern. Knowing there were sharp metal spikes underfoot always preyed on the mind. Ballista had given strict and repeated instructions that they were for the side streets only; none were to be dropped on the main thoroughfare. This had to be kept clear; much depended on it.
The plan to draw the Goths into a prepared ground behind the gate could only hope to succeed if the adjacent walls were held. What could be done in the time had been. There were more than enough arrows. Stones, bricks, broken statues — anything that could hurt when thrown or dropped had been stockpiled along the wall walk. Pitchforks to dislodge ladders and axes to cut grappling lines had been distributed. After much thought, Ballista had ordered combustible material and metal cauldrons to heat oil — sand, when the supply of oil proved inadequate — placed at intervals. The locals confirmed his observation that the prevailing winds here were northerly or westerly. It was not in the defenders’ favour. A fire would tear through the heavily built-up town. With luck, there would be no accidents, and hopefully the Goths would not resort to such tactics, fearing to burn what they had come to plunder. If the worst came to the worst, the outer town would burn but the dressed stone of the curtain wall of the citadel should act as a firebreak.
It had been full dark for at least two hours when the makeshift defensive works were near enough complete that Ballista considered he could leave them. Montanus had selected thirty well-armed militia men to act as cavalry the next day. Outside the Bouleuterion, Ballista had spoken separately to them. He had stressed the vital importance of their role, told them to see to both their horses and courage, pray to their gods, then get what rest they could. Tomorrow they must listen for the signal, obey commands and charge as one.
Ballista had walked back down to the house of the strategos by the citadel gate. Fifty more citizens under arms — these all volunteers — had waited for him in the street there. Diocles had them marshalled with the twenty-eight crewmen of the Fides. By the light of torches, Ballista had explained the plan, such as it was. Castricius and Diocles had inspected them, to make certain all had followed the instructions to carry only sword and shield — the next morning’s work would be at close quarters, and bows would be just an impediment to their clandestine manoeuvres. They also checked that all had muffled their armour and boots, removed spurs, belt attachments and anything else that might make a noise, blackened their faces and hands, wrapped rags around metal helmets and donned dark cloaks. The latter had been no issue for the locals, who tended to wear them anyway. Most of the Romans had borrowed them. While that was carried out, Ballista, Maximus and Tarchon had had something to eat, relieved themselves, then had a final few words with Montanus and the other Olbian commanders.
Rejoining the men, Ballista had thought he should address them. He had felt too tired. But some sort of speech was always expected. Standing on a mounting block by the door, looking out over the quiet ranks in the guttering torchlight, he had kept it short. They were to observe complete silence and listen for orders. They were few, but numbers would be of no account. The Goths would not be expecting them; surprise was everything. ‘Let us be men,’ he had ended. Like a religious response, they had returned the Homeric tag.
Ballista had embraced Castricius. The little officer’s angular face was taut with concern. Ballista had run through the signals yet again: when Castricius wanted him to move he was to hoist a green flag alongside the red war standard on the house of the strategos and have three blasts on the horn sounded; if no signal had come from the town but Ballista himself judged the time was right, he likewise would have his bucinator blow three times; should those outside be forced to try to retreat back to the city, it would be four notes.
They had embraced again. Ballista was loath to leave him behind, but he needed someone he could trust both to take direct command of the barricades and the cavalry and to oversee the whole defence. The disposition of the Olbian leaders and troops had been altered. Callistratus remained at the docks, although now with only one hundred men. Bion held the wall to the west of the gate, and Saitaphernes to the east with five hundred men between them. The reserve under Dadag manned the barricades, with some two hundred and twenty men. The cavalry waited behind them. The acropolis, the very last line of defence, was garrisoned by one hundred under Montanus. They were all stretched thin, but if those at the gate fell back to join the men at the barricades and the women and children on the roofs played their part, the town might just hold.