The One Who Gazes at the Stars (1)
To verify my assumption that information was leaking through the sewers, I decided to station a few of the guards who'd followed me in ambush inside them. It was nauseating work, but there was no other way.
The soldiers drawn by lots wore the faces of the dying, but they soon headed for the latrines. I felt sorry for them, yet the fate of Briton's defense hung on this.
Hold strong.
I patrolled the walls while waiting for them to bring good news. Fortunately, the barbarians seemed focused on blocking our civilian evacuation and didn't attack all day.
On my way down after finishing the rounds, a commotion erupted from the latrines.
"Spies!"
Shouts and curses burst from the crowd gathered around the latrines.
I pushed through the throng to the front.
"What's happened?"
"These men were hiding in the sewers."
I gave a wry smile at the sight of my guards seized by the soldiers.
Things always seemed to twist hardest when they weren't going my way.
I addressed the soldiers.
"Release them. They're not spies—they're soldiers under my orders."
"Sir?"
The soldiers looked baffled for a moment. Who but a spy would crouch in filthy sewers?
I didn't explain, just approached my guards.
They knelt, covered in filth.
"Forgive us."
I embraced them fiercely, heedless of the muck.
"It's fine. You did your best."
I sent the guards to the baths and summoned Fabius.
Fabius had watched the bizarre uproar with a glint in his eye, as if struck by an idea.
"Fabius. From now on, check the clothes of everyone entering the latrines. We need to thoroughly search for letters inside."
"Understood."
But catching spies this way would be tough. After this fiasco, no one but an idiot would try smuggling letters through the latrines.
I issued the order and sat against a civilian house wall.
Even fools won't get caught now. Still, we have to block leaks through the latrines.
I rubbed my face with both hands.
Then I spotted two children running and yelling—a boy and his little sister, quarreling over a scrap of bread.
The brother dashed off with it, and the sister shrieked in outrage.
"That's mine!"
"I'm bigger, so it's mine!"
the brother shot back.
Fuming at losing her share, the girl wailed.
Watching them sparked an idea.
Make others' things your own. Others' things into your own. Ah, that's the way.
I smacked my knee with my fist.
The boy whipped around at the sound. In that instant, the girl closed the gap, leaped onto his back, and bit his ear hard.
"Aaaah!"
She'd sunk her teeth in deep; the boy bawled and dropped the bread. The sister snatched it up quick as a flash.
I turned from them and entered the civilian house serving as my temporary quarters.
If my premise is right—that the barbarians get news through the sewers—they'll be waiting for word from there.
But with latrines under watch, leaks will be hard for a while. This is our chance. Feed them info and test it.
I took up a quill pen.
On the parchment, I wrote that we'd launch a fast courier at night requesting reinforcements. If the barbarians reacted, my assumption was confirmed. And I'd know I could feed them false intel without catching spies.
That would suffice.
I filled the parchment densely with script.
At sunset, a ship prepared in our harbor—not carrying civilians this time, but a swift courier.
"Row! Row!"
The slaves rowed hard, and the vessel slipped from the harbor like silk. I watched it go, eyes fixed on the dark bay beyond.
If the barbarians had gotten my leak, they wouldn't let the courier pass. Sinking it would show even fast ships couldn't reach the mainland safely—crushing our defenders' morale further.
I worried for the crew even as I hoped the barbarians would bite. Only then could I manipulate them with our info.
Take the bait.
Fist clenched, I scanned around the courier.
How much time passed?
A light flickered across the bay, swiftly approaching our courier.
"Barbarian ship!"
Soldiers watching from the harbor shouted.
The barbarians moved nimbly, as if they'd anticipated the courier's mainland run, cutting it off. Even accounting for our catapults, escape looked slim.
"We may need to sink our own ship."
"Send the signal."
I spoke calmly, but inside I was thrilled.
They were exchanging info through the sewers after all.
I felt their unknown commander in my palm. If I could predict their moves, victory was in reach.
"Filthy barbarians."
Soldiers gritted their teeth as the courier returned.
I watched, then told Fabius,
"Two hours from now, send another courier to the mainland. Scrape together every ship from the homeland."
"But won't they heighten their guard if they see ships massing?"
"Doesn't matter. And if they do exactly that, all the better."
I sketched a plan in my mind.
First, leak through the sewers that we'd evacuate all civilians and legion at once.
Impossible with our capacity, but seeing ships from the mainland would make barbarians believe it real.
How would they respond?
Barbarians planning to trap us and wipe us with plague would block escape at all costs. That meant stationing many ships and troops across the bay.
Diverting that force would halve their frontal numbers.
Then signal we'd abandon the city just before their "plague attack."
Slashing wall defenders would tempt them: no need for catapults; a frontal assault wins, and blockade troops stay unused.
Lure that reduced force inside and annihilate. Against six-to-one odds, no; but three-to-one? Viable.
Win that, and Londinium survives. Even in ruins.
Civilian and city damage was inevitable.
But with escape blocked now, no better strategy existed.
Destroy the enemy to open a path. Cripple half their force, and they couldn't squeeze Londinium by sea and land. Their plague ploy fizzles.
Hell, losing half might break their will entirely.
So we had to win this gamble.
Flutter flutter.
A fierce wind from the bay whipped my black cloak.
"Carry out the orders."
Fabius saluted across his chest instead of replying.
Time to start the gamble for city and legion's fate.
The next day, barbarians fired catapults at dawn. We countered with heavy ones, but couldn't neutralize all their advanced positions overnight.
Boom!
A flying stone smashed a house roof with a roar. Baked bricks shattered, spraying everywhere.
"Guide civilians to the square!"
Selected civilian reps and some soldiers evacuated from impact zones.
As I eyed their catapults, Fabius ran up.
"Commander, repositioning catapults will take time."
"Cunning bastards."
I rubbed my scabbard with a finger.
Anticipating our heavies, they'd deployed in a V, hurling corpses at the city. Suppressing them proved harder than thought.
But catapult trouble didn't doom us. If they thought walls climbable and assaulted, victory beckoned.
Toot.
Mid-barrage, a horn blared from barbarian lines.
Here it comes.
I hardened my face and ordered,
"Hold positions desperately till retreat sounds. Show them Briton's legion is no frail deer, but a mighty lion."
"The legion triumphs!"
Soldiers roared back.
Barbarians surged like waves to the walls. Seeing our thinned defenders, they'd chosen assault—fooled by our fake intel into seeing "opportunity."
"Arrows!"
But we couldn't let them up easily. Too quick a collapse breeds suspicion. We had to bleed for it.
At my cry, arrows flew. They arced gracefully skyward, then plunged to earth.
Thwack. Thud.
Barbarians shielded and clung to walls. Their ant-swarm numbers chilled the spine anew.
Ladders hooked, poles rose. Soldiers bashed and stabbed climbers with shields and spears.
Barbarians occasionally screamed and fell.
To shake numerical terror, our men bellowed and swung weapons.
Briton legionaries weren't weak, even routed to Londinium. Trusting me beside them, they held.
I watched, fist clenched.
"Excellency!"
Gorgo called amid my commands.
"Speak."
"Barbarians climbing right flank too. You should withdraw."
I scanned around and shook my head.
"Not yet. They're not frenzied. Need more time for battle heat to cloud their reason. If I retreat now, men break. Then we lose."
Gorgo bowed at my resolve.
"Then, Excellency, let me fight for you."
"Do it."
"Yes, sir."
Guard Gorgo had held back to protect me. But fighting after they overran? Pointless.
I sent him to the fray.
As our men clashed fiercely with barbarians, stones kept pounding the city. Houses crumbled each hit.
"Hold! Hold longer! I'll repay your blood with glorious victory. Spill hot blood for the empire!"
I urged them, personally raising the Praetorian legion's eagle standard.
"The legion with Imperator Ain is invincible! See! The golden eagle watches over us!"
Officers bellowed; soldiers surged, shields and swords flashing.
But barbarian numbers overwhelmed.
Our men yielded ground inch by inch.
I swallowed hard watching our precarious stand.
Hold. Londinium and the legion's fate rests on your shoulders.
I gripped the standard crushing-tight and stabbed the ground.
(To be continued next episode)