‘They’re frightened,’ Simon whispered to him when no one else was in earshot. ‘And I can’t blame them.’

The siege tower was big. Domitius had read about these towers, been set exercises to design them and work out precise dimensions and the amounts of material and labour required, and made models of them, but he had never helped to make a real one, or seen one so close up. Part of him was proud of the legionaries who had made this ramp and machine, and who now were driving the ram’s head into the wall. The damage was already obvious in a patch several feet square, and as he leaned over the parapet and squinted he thought that one of the stones had shifted so that one end poked out from the wall by an inch or so. Given time, the ram would breach the wall.

A bolt from a scorpio clinked against the cap stone on the raised section of the battlement just next to him and he jerked back under cover.

‘It’s worse nearer their ram,’ Simon assured him. ‘Hard even for our boys on our tower, because their one is higher and their archers are good.’

‘Are they making the tower higher?’

Simon frowned. He was sweating, the rivulets making stripes in the dust on his face. ‘How do you mean? Can’t rebuild the thing with the Romans shooting at us.’

‘Doesn’t need to be stone. Use timber and animal skins, planks or wicker screens for cover. You build up so that you are higher than they are and you shoot down on them.’

Simon shook his head because it was obvious, and he could not understand how he had forgotten all the stories about cities doing this to fend off attackers. Domitius explained about lowering sacks to meet the ram’s charge, and that was another idea so obvious that Simon grinned at his own stupidity. The strategoi appeared, and Domitius watched the young Jewish officer explain his thoughts, and saw the magistrates pass through the same series of expressions, from disinterest, even impatience, into enlightenment and amusement that no one else had thought of such obvious tactics. Men were despatched to find sacks and suitable ropes.

Simon was happier than he had been for a while. ‘The building can wait until night, although they’ll start making sections. Give ’em a nasty surprise tomorrow morning when we’re looking down on them again!

‘Oh, the strategos asks why they are still adding to their ramp? Won’t they just come across that drawbridge from the tower?’

‘They’ll want to get more men forward if they can make a big breach. The idea is that the spoil from the wall falls down to make a ramp. I’m guessing they are already filling up the rooms inside that patch of wall with rubble.’ Simon frowned, before he gave a smile and nodded. Secrecy could be carried too far, and he was growing to like Domitius. ‘So they extend the ramp to get close enough for that, and to put work parties at the foot of the wall to see whether they can help. You’d be surprised what you can do with some crowbars and a lot of sweat.’ Months – what seemed like an age ago – Caecilius had used the same words when instructing him. Domitius was almost certain that his old boss was among the officers watching from the observation tower. There was something about the way one of the tiny figures stood that was distinctive. At least he had not been killed.