Theodoric by Ross Laidlaw Page A

directly beneath the arch. Cursing, sleepy sentries in Sarmatian scale armour emerged from the flanking towers to investigate the problem. Suddenly, headed by Theoderic and Timothy, armed Goths poured from the wagon, dispatched the sentries, and rushed for the towers – but too late to stop those within from releasing the portcullis. Down crashed the massive iron grille, only to be checked in its descent by the stout sides of the wagon. Spears bloodied, several Goths emerged from the towers.
    â€˜The diversion – what’s happened to it?’ exclaimed Theoderic to Timothy. ‘We should have heard the signal by now!’
    â€˜I tried to warn you, Deric. It was a mistake putting your brother in charge. You’d best send word for our lot to come in.’
    â€˜You’re right – we’ve got no choice. God, what a mess!’ Grim-faced, Theoderic dispatched runners to summon the main force.
    Awaiting its arrival, Theoderic cursed his ill-advised generosity in entrusting Thiudimund with the diversion, a gesture intended to reconcile his brother over the grievances he harboured. The plan had, like all the best plans, been simple, and had seemed foolproof. Under cover of night, two-thirds of the army – some four thousand men – would hide in a stretch of wooded parkland between the Danube and the northern section of the city walls. The rest, under Thiudimund, would take up concealed positions near the city’s south gate. At dawn, whenthe gates were opened to admit supply carts, Thiudimund’s section would begin a mock attack, with plenty of noise, on a southern stretch of the walls, sounding horns to advise Theoderic that the diversion had begun – the signal that the ‘wooden horse’ (the wagon) could be activated. Babai’s men, as observation had confirmed, were ensconced in the citadel. When aroused by the tumult of the diversion, it could safely be assumed that they would sally forth to repel the ‘assault’, whereupon Theoderic’s contingent would enter the city by the north gate and fall upon them from the rear.
    That part of the plan affecting Theoderic had been carried out to the letter. But now, owing to the diversion’s inexplicable failure to materialize, everything had been thrown into jeopardy. Babai and his men had only to remain in the citadel, and the Goths would be faced with either having to mount a siege – a recipe for certain failure – or trying to take the fortress by direct assault. The latter would inevitably result in many casualties; probably, against such a strong position, to no avail. But there was no alternative, Theoderic decided. If they were not to lose the element of surprise completely, they had to act at once.
    The towers had been secured and the portcullis raised, as the van of Theoderic’s force arrived at the north gate. Sending messengers to urge Thiudimund to join him, Theoderic, accompanied by Timothy, led his men to the nearby eminence on which loomed the citadel. Confronting them was its gate, two massive slabs of timber between a pair of mighty bastions projecting from the curtain wall. The Goths were greeted by a volley of arrows, and hastily pulled back out of range.
    â€˜What a brute!’ exclaimed Timothy, sounding far from happy, as he surveyed the entrance to the citadel. ‘D’you really think it’s worth it, Deric? We’d need ladders.’
    â€˜Or
a
ladder.’ Theoderic’s brain was working furiously, as a memory of something he had witnessed in the Eastern capital flashed into his mind. A troupe of entertainers performing tricks, one of which featured a woman strapped to a board, a man hurling axes which slammed into the wood all round her . . . Turning to his men, he began issuing orders. Doors ripped from neighbouring buildings, and with battens quickly nailed to them for handling, were pressed into service as screens. Propelled by willing volunteers, an