Crixus moved his men up to within a hundred feet of the ditch, and promptly withdrew them when great holes were torn in their ranks by machines mounted on the towers. I was with Spartacus watching the whole sorry episode as what looked like darts shot out from the tops of the towers and into the densely packed Gauls.
Spartacus shook his head. ‘They are called Scorpion bolt throwers and they can hurl a three-foot dart over five hundred yards. That’s about the range of your bows, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, lord,’ I replied.
‘The difference being,’ he continued as more Gauls were skewered while pulling back to a safe distance, ‘is that the Scorpion is operated by two men and consists of two wooden arms that are pushed through ropes made of animal sinew. The sinew has been twisted, making it a very powerful spring. The arms are then pulled back by levers, which further increases the tension. The bolt is notched into a large bowstring and then placed in a trough cut in the firing block. Then it’s released. You can see the result.’
‘You have seen these things before?’ I asked.
‘Many times. Each century in a legion usually has one Scorpion attached to it, and there are similar weapons that a legion also deploys in battle.’
‘I saw none on the plateau.’
‘No, strange that. Makes me think that those we killed were freshly raised from veterans who were retired then called back to the standards.’ The Gauls had pulled back to a distance out of the range of the Scorpions and were now taunting the garrison with obscene gestures and exposing their genitals to those on the walls.
‘Those walls look strong,’ said Spartacus.
‘At least thirty foot high,’ replied Akmon, ‘Perhaps higher. Storming them will be a bloody affair and we’ve got no siege engines.’
‘Even if we did we have no one to operate them,’ said Spartacus, glumly.
‘With one side open to the sea we also have little hope of starving them into surrender,’ I added to the general despondency.
‘The best we can do for now is to dig a rampart to face their walls and put a wooden palisade on top of it,’ said Spartacus.
In two days the rampart had been erected. The tree-covered slopes of the nearby Sila Mountains provided the materials for the palisade, which was completed within a week. Thereafter little happened. Ships continued to leave and enter the harbour and we continued to train our army. I established the camp for the cavalry five miles south of Thurii at the base of the Sila Mountains. The many streams that cut through the valleys and gullies provided fresh water for the horses and men and kept both man and beast away from the camps around the city, which soon became overcrowded and disease-ridden. As a result, Spartacus pulled the army back and dispersed it to prevent pestilence doing more damage than the Romans. The various contingents took turns in manning the palisade that surrounded the city, though we were excused as Spartacus informed me that it was well known that Parthians were useless in sieges and in any case we had the responsibility of providing an outer screen for the whole army. To this end Byrd and his scouts worked tirelessly in being our eyes and ears. I think Byrd was happiest when he was riding alone far and wide. He rode on a mangy looking horse and carried no weapons save a long dagger. His clothes were threadbare and his appearance scruffy. He reasoned that if he was spotted or captured the Romans would think that he was just a poor traveller, though just as likely they might execute him as a bandit. He had never been a soldier and he never professed any desire to be one, but he and his scouts were happy in the task they performed and I was delighted that he was so diligent in his work. His years spent travelling far and wide in Cappadocia had taught him to read the landscape and it served us well. He and his fifty scouts answered directly to me and paid no attention to anyone else. It annoyed Nergal and amused Burebista, but the arrangement worked and so I left well alone. He had recruited his scouts personally and they were similarly attired, but to his credit Byrd had taught himself Latin and lived with his men. Like him they were outsiders, and that sense of being outcasts bonded them together.
Despite the fact that it was now winter it was still warm during the day, though at night the temperature did drop markedly. And on one particularly cold evening when the wind was blowing off the snow-caped mountains, Byrd rode into camp on his shaggy beast. I was sat on the ground warming myself by a large fire set by Godarz and some of his veterinary officers when he thundered up. He was breathless and his horse was sweating heavily, which drew mutterings of disapproval from Godarz as he inspected the animal and calmed it down. He then ordered that its saddle be removed and the beast be watered and fed, totally ignoring the wishes of its owner. But then, Parthians love their horses above all things and can’t bear to see what they perceive as mistreatment. Byrd was indignant.
‘Horse fine, he no need food. I feed him.’
‘Obviously not enough by the look of him,’ sneered Godarz as the horse was led away. ‘I doubt he has been groomed for a week, it’s a disgrace.’
‘You no talk to me like that,’ said Byrd, squaring up to the older but bigger and stockier Godarz.
‘Enough,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘What do you want, Byrd?’
He smiled at me. ‘Have found Romani silver mine.’
‘What? Where?’ I asked.
‘A few miles away, in the mountains. I ride to tell you. No time to stop and feed horse.’
After he had eaten some stew and bread and drunk some wine I rode with him to the Thracian camp. It was dark but the route was easy to follow as the whole plain around the city was filled with campfires. Akmon had established the Thracian camp directly in front of the city’s western entrance, approximately a mile back from the walls, with the palisade in between. I often wondered what the garrison thought of a legionary camp built in their midst, but one full of enemies. We rode through the camp to the tent of Spartacus, who was sitting with Akmon when we entered.
‘A silver mine,’ he said to Byrd, ‘you’re sure?’
‘Romani only dig mines for gold or silver,’ he replied. ‘No bother with anything else. One of men tell me. Many soldiers at mine to protect precious ore.’
‘Makes sense,’ said Akmon, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic after drinking some wine.
‘We could take it easily enough,’ I added. ‘I could leave in the morning with two or three companies.’
Spartacus leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the table. ‘A silver mine explains why the city is so well protected and large, and therefore prosperous. The Romans must ship the silver from Thurii, across the gulf to Tarentum and then up the Appian Way to Rome. How far to the mine?’
‘Half a day’s ride, lord,’ replied Byrd.
Spartacus looked at me. ‘You and I will ride there tomorrow. But we’ll take some of my Thracians as well as your horse.’
‘That will slow us up,’ I said.
‘True, but if as your man says the garrison at the mine is large, cavalry won’t be enough.’ He pulled his sword from its scabbard. ‘Besides, a bit of fighting will blow the cobwebs away. Akmon, you will command in my absence.’
‘What use is more silver if we can’t buy anything with it?’ said Akmon.
The next morning we left early, two hundred horse and the same number of foot. Claudia embraced her husband who seemed in high spirits, the prospect of adventure clearly preferable to spending another day inspecting the ditch and palisade and talking Crixus out of making a direct assault on the city. The day was sunny and warm and soon we had left the plain and were heading up into the mountains, along a track that lanced through thick woods of beech and gorges cut by fast-flowing streams. The air became cooler as we climbed, and our pace slowed as men dismounted to lead their horses on foot, the Thracians in their mail shirts and helmets hauling shields, swords, food and javelins behind us. We made a lot of noise that seemed to irritate Byrd, who was clearly enjoying our company not at all. The area was alive with different fauna, such as silver fir, maple, laurel, oak, holly, water mint and Dog Rose. It was also teeming with wildlife — black squirrel, deer, Red Kites and otters. We once saw an eagle soaring above us through a gap in the trees, which Spartacus reckoned was a good omen. Halting mid-afternoon, Byrd, Spartacus and I continued on foot, leaving the track and moving through the trees.