The Eagle In the Sand - Scarrow Simon (читать книги без .txt) 📗

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

They hunched down and waited for the impact with gritted teeth. The first rock overshot the gatehouse and smashed through the roof of the barracks block beyond with a shattering crash. Fragments of tiles exploded from the impact and pattered down on to the street around the building. The second missile struck the ground a short distance before the fort sending a shower of stones and grit against the wall, and raising a small cloud of dust above the spot where it had landed. Cato and Macro felt the impact and Macro looked at his friend with a nervous grin.

'That's quite some piece of kit they have there. Good range, and it can throw a decent weight. That's going to be a nuisance.'

Cato stood up and stared towards the onagers. Already the crews were working at preparing them for the next blow. He heard a thin series of clanks as the throwing arm was ratcheted back. Macro had hurried to the other side of the gatehouse and was staring down at the barracks block that had taken the first strike. There was a gaping hole in the roof and a haze of dust hanging over the building.

'Hey, you!' Macro yelled down to one of the soldiers in the street.The man looked round and up and stood to attention.

'Yes, sir!'

'Check inside that building. Make sure everyone's all right. Get any casualties seen to by the medical orderlies. Move!'

As soon as he had given the order, Macro re-joined Cato. The first of the onagers was almost ready to load and in the growing light they could see two men struggling to lift a rock into the cup at the end of the throwing arm. An order was shouted and an instant later the beam of wood shot up again, cracked against the cross bar and another missile arced towards the fort. As before, it seemed to be coming straight for them and Cato glanced at Macro. Macro was tracking the rapid progress of the rock, so Cato forced himself to remain composed and resist the impulse to dive to one side.The rock struck the base of the gatehouse and Cato felt the shock of the impact right through his body. A chunk of masonry fell off the rampart close by and dust and grit tumbled down from the dry thatch roof overhead.

Macro looked at him. 'You all right?'

Cato nodded.

'Better check the damage.'

They leaned over the rampart and gazed down. The rock was still in one piece where it had bounced back from the wall and there was a small crater on the face of the masonry, near the arch, and a skein of small cracks radiating from it.

Macro winced. 'I really hope that was a lucky shot.'

The second onager swung into action and another stone flew through the air towards the fort. Again it fell short and bounced off the stony ground before harmlessly hitting the base of the wall beside the gatehouse. As dawn broke over the desert the bombardment continued in a steady rhythm of the clanking ratchet, the crack of the throwing arm striking the cross beam and the crash of the impact. But nearly half the shots fell short, or went wide and hit the walls, or overshot the defences and smashed into the buildings beyond. Every hit on the gatehouse dislodged more masonry and the fine cracks gradually widened. One lucky shot landed right on the bottom of the gate itself, making the hinges rattle. Macro gave the order for most of the men to shelter behind the wall, leaving those manning the corner towers to keep an eye on the enemy. After a little while Macro and Cato climbed down from the gatehouse and sat down in the watchroom beside the timbers of the gate.

'Have you ever been on the receiving end before?' Cato asked.

'No. Can't say I'm enjoying the experience.' Macro smiled faintly.'Have to hand it to Bannus and his Parthian friends – they've managed to spring a very nasty surprise on us. And I let those bloody onagers slip by, right under my nose.'

'Don't be hard on yourself, sir. No one could have seen that one coming.'

'Maybe, but that's not going to be much of a consolation if they manage to batter the gatehouse down and swarm all over us.'

'Couldn't we try to destroy the onagers?'

'How do you propose we do that?'

'Send out our cavalry, charge over there before they can react and try to fire the onagers, or at least cut the torsion mechanism.'

Macro shook his head. 'It wouldn't work.There's only one route for horses through the ground we've prepared with caltrops and pits, and that's to the east. We'd have to take that until we were clear of the traps before we could turn towards the onagers.They'd have enough time to get plenty of men between us and their precious siege weapons. It'd just be a waste of men.'

'What if we tried it tonight on foot?'

'Much the same problem. There is a narrow passage through the obstacles to the west, and another to the north. If we lost touch with the paths we'd be caught between the enemy and our own defences. It's almost impossible to find your way in the dark.'

However badly Cato wanted to destroy the onagers he knew that his friend was right. It would be a dangerous operation, by day or night. He ran a hand through his hair. 'If we can't stop these onagers then I suppose we'd better get the counter-measures in place.'

Macro nodded. 'Let's go.'

They strode away from the wall and Macro took a javelin from one of the auxiliaries. He stood to one side of the gatehouse, adjusted his position, and then began to mark out a line in the sand and gravel with the point of the javelin. He continued until he had described an arc round the rear of the gatehouse, and then he returned the javelin to the auxiliary.

'That should do, Cato. I want a breastwork along that line. Build it up as high as you can. Rig a few sheltered platforms on either side. If the enemy comes through the breach then we'll meet them with arrows and javelins from three sides. Got all that?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then let's get to it.'

Cato assembled a work party and gave orders for the destruction of the barracks blocks closest to the gatehouse.That would provide a ready supply of materials for the second line of defence as well as clearing a space behind the breastwork to mass a force of defenders to meet any attack through the breach. The auxiliaries used iron hooks and lengths of rope to pull down the rafters and then the walls of each block. Other men took up picks and began to dig post holes for the roof beams. Timbers were nailed across the beams before the largest pieces of rubble were used to build up the foundations of the makeshift wall. The work continued through the morning and into the afternoon, under the glare of the sun, and all the time the onagers continued their assault on the gatehouse. Some rocks still overshot the wall and smashed into a building with a loud crash that made the defenders start and duck for cover, until the officers bawled at them to continue working. They were fortunate enough to escape any serious casualties until noon when one of the rocks pitched down into the middle of a work party, pulverising one man into a barely recognisable tangle of bloody limbs and wounding most of his comrades as splinters of stone exploded from where the rock hit the ground. Cato immediately shouted a string of orders to have the body taken away and the injured removed to the hospital, and sent the other men back to constructing the inner wall.

Then, in the late afternoon, as yet another shot smashed into the gatehouse, there was an ominous rumble of masonry as a crack opened up diagonally from the rampart almost down to the ground.The men paused for a moment to look and then returned to their labours with renewed determination. Cato quietly made his way over to Macro.

'Won't be long now, sir.'

'Maybe,' Macro responded.'But it's still holding up for the moment. I just hope it lasts until nightfall. I doubt they'll make any direct assaults until they can clearly see what they're doing. Meanwhile, we'll just have to make the best job we can of the inner wall.'