‘Below helmet, above chest piece. Tear chunks out of their neck if you’re lucky.’
Avso frowned at one of the legionaries.
‘No shield?’
‘No.’
‘Then you get this.’
Avso walked over to Statius and snatched the pilum out of his hand.
‘That’s my property!’ Statius protested.
‘You have sword and shield. He’ll pay for any damage.’
Avso handed the pilum to the other man.
‘You stay behind the rest of us. See something you can hit, have a dig.’
Avso picked up a stave lying on the ground close by, then noticed he was being watched.
‘Not long now,’ said Cassius.
Avso pointed across the street.
‘In that case, you might want to have a word with the locals.’
Before Cassius could find out what the Thracian meant, he was intercepted by Vestinus and the rest of the first section.
‘We’ve boarded up the access gap, sir. Not much is getting through there.’
Vestinus pointed over his shoulder. The criss-crossing collection of planks left only a few small holes and looked as solid as any other part of the cart wall.
‘Good. Stay here for now. If you see a breach, do what you can to help but don’t get too involved. You’re my reserve.’
Cassius glanced through one of the dwelling windows and saw the Syrians inside. He hurried round to the doorway and found them at prayer. Again Kabir and Yarak stood at the front, with the rest of the men kneeling forward, heads bowed so low that they almost touched the floor. Kabir noticed Cassius. He held up a finger, indicating Yarak was almost done. Cassius could barely believe what he was seeing, but thankfully the priest finished almost immediately. The men repeated a single line of prayer and were swiftly up on their feet.
‘My apologies,’ said Kabir, ‘but dawn prayers cannot wait.’
‘Clearly not. The ram is coming. Make sure your men stay out of sight unless they’re needed.’
‘Of course.’
Cassius moved on to the southern barricade where first he found the third section. Crispus was pressed up against a gap, eyes fixed on the gate. Cassius tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Ram is coming. Ready your men.’
As Crispus passed on the order to draw weapons, Cassius moved on to the next cart, where the second section were stationed. With both Avso and Serenus on the northern side, he had thought it wise to take up position to the south. Now, however, looking round at the grim, determined expressions on the faces of Strabo’s grizzled friends, he realised his presence was hardly crucial. None were particularly large, but they carried themselves with the same presence and composure that characterised the big Sicilian.
‘Sorry, sir.’
Minicius arrived, breathing hard. ‘Broken bootlace. Shall I sound a tone when they advance, sir?’
‘Don’t bother. I think we all know what’s coming.’
Cassius drew his sword. This time it came out easily; a good omen he hoped. To the right, one of Strabo’s friends yawned and rested his shield against the cart. The legionary was left-handed and Cassius noted how the ridges in the bone of his sword handle were dulled and black with dirt. Cassius glanced down and looked between his own fingers: the gleaming surface was shiny and unsullied.
Suddenly, there was a shout. Then a loud crack. Cassius looked up and peered between two planks. Another crack. The gate shuddered, releasing a small cloud of dust that floated slowly to the ground.
The wooden doors that made up the main gate were each mounted on a pair of iron hinges. The hinges were set into a timber frame embedded in the clay wall.
The Palmyrans struck first at where the doors met. Progress seemed minimal until one of the reinforcing planks nailed across the divide abruptly popped out, swiftly followed by the other two. With one more concerted blow the locking plank itself snapped and the doors swung slightly open.
‘Come on in then!’ shouted someone from the northern barricade.
With a splintering crash, the southern door buckled. The next impact knocked out the top hinge, leaving the door hanging at an angle.
Cassius imagined the enemy troops heaving the ram backwards, then lining it up for the next blow. They aimed low and they aimed well, taking the bottom hinge out cleanly, along with most of the wooden frame. The door flew backwards and toppled into the dust. It had taken them only moments. The Palmyrans cheered.
‘What are you waiting for?’ came the voice again. Cassius belatedly realised it was Avso.
A wide-eyed mass of infantry clustered close to the gate, shields and swords at the ready. Though the second door could now simply be pushed aside, the ram was slowly retracted once more.
Strabo suddenly materialised at the southern-tower doorway. He darted for the barricade, flung his pilum over the top and disappeared from view. Cassius leaned back and saw two legionaries part to let him through. They already had timber, nails and hammer ready and instantly began covering the gap.
Strabo recovered his pilum and hurried over to Cassius.
‘Fifty or so infantry. Some well armoured.’
The second door was struck. Two vertical planks were shattered by the first blow.
‘Here, pass me a couple,’ ordered Strabo.
A legionary handed him two of the light throwing javelins from a nearby bundle. Leaning his pilum against the cart, Strabo took a javelin in each hand and nodded at two others.
‘Gulo, Iucundus, you too. Let’s see if we can slow them down a little.’
Gulo was a sturdy, rough-featured man with shoulders as broad as Strabo’s. Iucundus was taller and narrower, with unusually fair hair that stuck out in tufts through the joins of his helmet. Though Cassius hadn’t previously known their names, he recognised them as Strabo’s fellow gamblers.
The ram was thrust forward once more and two of the sharpened stakes were driven between door and frame. The Palmyrans began to lever the hinges out.
With one javelin in his left hand, Strabo weighed the other in his right, then took several steps backward. Gulo and Iucundus stood beside him.
As its hinges were finally torn free, the door keeled over, lying at rest close to its counterpart.
The noise from the Palmyrans rose until it became a single bestial roar. The ram was withdrawn and before long, nothing could be seen except the red-clad swarm of warriors. The first rank stretched out their sword arms, held their shields high, and charged.
XXXI
Strabo, Gulo and Iucundus all got their javelins away as the first of the Palmyrans cleared the gatehouse.
Fighting the urge to retreat as the onrushing bodies surged towards the carts, Cassius saw one of the missiles hit home, piercing the upper arm of a swordsman who had lowered his shield. The warrior stumbled and fell, tripping two more behind him. All three were soon overtaken by the second wave of men.
The sight of what blocked their way did nothing to slow the Palmyran charge and in moments the first of them smashed up against the carts. The scrapes and thuds of metal on wood fused with the cries of attacker and defender alike until neither words nor language could be heard.
The opening in front of Cassius was suddenly covered by a striped shield. It was then wrenched aside and a narrow spear thrust towards his face. Cassius saw it in good time and stepped backwards, swinging his blade left. The sword caught the head of the spear, knocking it aside with a metallic clang.
The unseen warrior retracted his weapon and unwittingly presented Cassius with an exposed section of tunic. Cassius centred his sword and stabbed into the space but he was too slow and hit nothing; his opponent had already moved away.
Now was the time to check the rest of the line. To his right, the second section looked in good order. The legionaries stood at an angle to the gaps, shields protecting them as they sought vulnerable spots to attack. Strabo directed affairs, yelling orders and pushing the men into position.