Attila the Hun's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The city walls rose ahead, grey stone stacked higher than three men. Attila sat on his black stallion and watched smoke drift from the Roman settlement beyond the gates. His riders had killed every scout and patrol they found on the road. Now the gates stayed shut, iron-bound wood reinforced with crossed beams. Towers rose at each corner, red clay tiles catching the afternoon light. He could see faces peering down from the ramparts — not many. The scroll had been right. Aetius left this city with half the defenders it needed. Attila raised his hand and his riders spread wide, encircling the walls. They would not charge. Not yet. Let the Romans count his forces. Let them see no relief column coming down the road behind them. A single arrow flew from the tower and fell short in the dirt. Attila did not flinch. He turned his horse and rode slowly along the wall's length, close enough that the defenders could see his face. He wanted them to know who had come for their city. Behind him, his warriors began dragging timber and rope from their carts. They would build siege towers by nightfall. The walls were high, but walls only mattered if men stood willing to die on them. Attila had seen enough sieges to know when a city would break. This one would open within three days, or it would burn. Either way, the plunder inside belonged to his men now. Rome's gold was no longer a distant prize — it waited just beyond those gates, and nothing Aetius had written on that scroll would save it. One of his captains rode up beside him and pointed to the field beyond the city's south wall. Bodies lay scattered there — Roman legionnaires in full armor, cut down before they reached the gates. Among them sat a catapult, half-built, the wood frame carved with Roman letters. Attila rode closer. His warriors had caught the Romans trying to assemble it outside the walls. Now it stood abandoned, ropes still coiled beside the throwing arm. He dismounted and ran his hand along the frame. The wood was solid, the design sound. His men could finish what the Romans started. He turned to his captain and gave the order. By dawn, they would have the catapult working. The defenders would watch their own weapon tear holes in their walls. Attila looked back at the city gates. The Romans inside thought stone would protect them. They were wrong. The siege had already turned — not in three days, but tonight. The city would fall faster than he planned, and his riders would feast on Roman gold before Aetius even knew this place had fallen.