The Hole (5)
The barbarians weren't rushing. As expected, they postponed their all-out assault by a day. But they didn't just sit around wasting time. From the ramparts, I spotted several suspicious movements in their camp.
The barbarians were openly dragging sheep and cattle forward and slaughtering them with spears. Were they trying to flaunt their abundant food supplies?
But they left the carcasses to rot and brought in fresh animals to kill. Watching the scene, I fell deep into thought.
They're killing livestock on purpose?
I focused on the fact that after slaughtering the animals they'd gone to the trouble of herding here, they weren't eating the meat or using it—they were just abandoning it.
Why?
The answer came easily enough. The flies swarming the manure we'd scattered yesterday revealed their intent.
They were killing the livestock to create rotting meat that could spread disease.
The barbarians were far more cunning and devious than I'd given them credit for.
If you smear livestock with feces, you can produce maggot-infested corpses in as little as two days. Hurl those over the walls?
Within a week, the city would be swept by plague.
It was a way to seize the city without sacrificing troops in a siege. Of course, adopting this method meant they'd risk catching the disease themselves during the bombardment.
Raiders seeking plunder rarely chose such a path.
Do they rate our defenses that highly?
I felt troubled by the barbarians' new tactic. From the defender's perspective, there was no countering it. Getting anxious over their blatant "preparations" and sallying out would only hasten defeat.
After wrestling with it, I went to see the governor.
Privus greeted me with a haggard face.
"I heard you repelled the enemy yesterday."
"Thanks to the troops' devotion."
"You've eased my worries, Your Excellency. When you mentioned preparing to burn documents yesterday, I was greatly concerned."
I recalled what I'd told the governor and gave a wry smile.
Anyone in his position would have worried. Fortunately, it hadn't come to that—but now I had to demand something even greater.
"The real reason I came to see you today is to tell you one thing."
"If it's a message, you needn't come in person, surely?"
The governor looked puzzled.
"It's too important to send via an officer."
Sensing the weight in my words, he swallowed dryly.
"The barbarians will begin catapulting at Londinium within days."
"Aren't they already doing that?"
"Not ordinary catapulting, I mean. Corpses will be flying over the walls."
The governor paused, grasping my meaning, then his eyes widened.
"They're trying to unleash a plague?"
"Something like that."
"My god."
"That's why we're evacuating the civilians. With only troops left, the plague risk drops significantly."
He bit his lip at that.
"But evacuating the populace in short order is impossible. We lack ships, and the moment withdrawal is announced, they'll riot to escape first."
"True enough. So you'll calm the civilian leaders to ensure an orderly evacuation. I'll handle the troops."
"Understood. I'll cooperate fully. Anything else I can do?"
"Publicly state you'll stay until the end."
"It's only natural for an imperial governor. Consider it done."
Privus showed the dignity befitting an imperial knight.
I'd seen plenty of governors unfit for the role, but they weren't the whole of the empire's ruling class. The empire endured because of men like this haggard fellow before me—those with backbone.
I shook the governor's hand and left his residence.
In response to the barbarians' ploy, I'd countered with civilian evacuation—a bold stroke. Now the task of steadying the troops during withdrawal and holding the city fell squarely on my shoulders.
"Assemble the legion's key officers at the gates within the hour."
"Yes, sir."
I issued the order to Fabius and pondered what to tell the men. The governor's proclamation would soon plaster the city; I had to reassure the soldiers first.
To do that, I needed words to fire up the Briton legionaries' resolve.
Sometimes a straight fight feels easier.
I grimaced wryly, choosing my phrases with care. One slip could prove disastrous; restraint was key.
While I mulled it over, Fabius returned with the officers. Addressing everyone at once would be more effective, but with the enemy at our gates, it wasn't feasible.
"Hail Imperator Ain, Your Excellency!"
I raised my hand in response as the officers knelt before me.
"My thanks to Britannia's eagles, devoted to the empire."
They saluted and rose.
I scanned them slowly before speaking.
"I summoned you for one reason: to inform you I've decided to evacuate Londinium's civilians before the barbarians attack."
A murmur rippled through the officers.
"Does that mean you're abandoning Londinium?"
"If we're withdrawing, when do we pull out?"
"There is no withdrawal," I stated firmly.
Confusion spread across their faces. Evacuate civilians but leave the legion? What did it mean? Their expressions made it plain.
Logically, the defenders' greatest asset was civilian support. Abandoning that left only the legion—what madness?
"Morale will plummet if the civilians go and we stay."
"Perhaps. But there's reason to evacuate only them. It's to minimize casualties from the plague the barbarians intend to unleash."
Only then did understanding dawn.
"Even so, evacuation will take time. The men might waver in the interim."
Natural enough. Many Briton legionaries had families here. Learning there was no one behind them to protect would stir desires to flee to them.
Troops without kin might wonder why civilians fled while they fought on.
"That's where you come in. Make the men see evacuation as enabling efficient combat. Show we have no intention of fleeing amid the civilians, and they won't panic."
The officers saluted, arms across chests.
"We'll ensure Britannia's eagles uphold their honor as soldiers."
"I count on you. Dismissed."
They bowed and dispersed.
As I watched them go, Fabius spoke up.
"Your Excellency, how will you fool the barbarians' eyes during evacuation?"
"Fool their eyes?"
"They have ships too."
I pointed to the catapults.
"We've got those, don't we? As long as they hold, their ships won't close within ten li of the bay."
"But what if they attack from sea and land simultaneously?"
Fabius's point hit home—I'd overlooked something.
Unlike the continent where I'd honed my experience, this island relied on naval power. The barbarians knew how to use ships effectively.
If they timed attacks from sea and shore to match the evacuation, our catapult fire would split. I'd underestimated the evacuation's challenges.
"You're right. That would be trouble. Any countermeasures?"
"If there are, make them hard to spot. Fog blankets Londinium Bay at dawn. Use night and morning for evacuation, and they won't notice for at least three days."
"Three days."
I clasped my hands.
Evacuation began at nightfall. To avoid drawing barbarian attention, we lit the harbor scarcely, so loading each ship took ages.
I watched for deserters amid the boarding. One coward fleeing comrades could demoralize the whole force; prevention was essential.
My presence at the harbor had officers on edge, scanning for deserters. As about a hundred civilians boarded, my bodyguard Gorgo rushed up and knelt.
"Your Excellency, barbarians are approaching the walls."
"What?"
I was stunned. With evacuation underway, they advanced now? As if peering into our plans?
Perplexed, I spotted lights across the bay—barbarian ships. Murmurs rose.
The provincial law officer asked me.
"Your Excellency, continue the evacuation?"
"Halt it for now."
No choice. Sending ships now meant catapults covering them, weakening wall defenses.
Evacuation prep had already thinned our ranks; we couldn't afford more strain.
"Yes, sir."
At his order, soldiers and leaders dispersed the civilians; boardees disembarked. Grumbles sounded, but my presence kept it orderly.
Damn. This is worse than no plan at all. We've given everyone reason to panic.
I scowled. No doubt—they knew our insides.
They'd launched this timed strike despite my reputation.
I clenched my fist.
Back at the walls, barbarians stood beyond bow range, torches aloft. Ready to strike if we turned catapults bayward.
I realized I was cornered.
They peered into our affairs, wielding efficient strategy. With civilian escape blocked, we'd take their corpse barrage helplessly.
Damn it all.
Where was the leak?
Three possibilities.
First: spy arrows from within. A bribed soldier could manage it—most likely.
Second: carrier pigeons.
Well-trained pigeons cross walls easily. I'd learned their power fighting Shapur.
But pigeons rely on homing instinct, so you raise them outside and fly them in one by one—no other way.
That's why Shapur sent from out to in, never attempting the reverse.
Third: signal fires. Prearranged, lights could relay to the outside.
Barbarians used it often, so our men watched closely. Hard to pull off.
A bribed soldier among us, then.
It grieved me to suspect the legion's eagles.
But no better suspects.
As I rubbed my face, an officer hurried down from the wall. With barbarians so close, I barked.
"Where are you going?"
"J-just to the latrine, sir."
A flash hit me.
Latrine.
Latrines had sewers.
Londinium's drained to land, not sea—for feeding outer livestock. Straight toward the barbarians' camp.
Drop a sealed message in, and info flows to them effortlessly. Undetected.
A chill ran down my spine.
But it was opportunity too.
Knowing their "window" into us, I could turn it against them.
Found the hole.
I bared my teeth toward the barbarians.
Now it was our turn to smile.
(To be continued)