Agala combed his camp, brooding over last night's failed attempt at a siege. His father had once told him that a beast when cornered, fought more fiercely. He had been forced last night to ruminate more on that proverb. He was a fool, he thought, to have thought that Masa, the last walled town of the Massada tribe would fall easily. He had not properly thought of what was at stake. If Masa fell, it would mean that the Massada had lost the war which had lasted ten years. It was only reasonable to expect such a fierce resistance. He had been blinded by the prospect of glory and had not considered the stakes properly. A reasonable general would wait for reinforcements before taking on Masa. His thoughts were occasionally interrupted by the groanings of his injured men as their wounds were stitched. He had lost fifty men last night. Some fell as they tried to mount the siege on the wall and others fell as they abandoned the siege and fled towards their camp with the victorious shouts of the defenders rending the air behind them and more arrows raining down on them. He felt his mind wallow at a dead end as he turned over and over again, the possible next lines of action he had as options. If he attacked Masa again, he could lose more men, he could even get killed. His other option, which his pride could not stomach even for a moment was to send word to other generals for reinforcements. He spat in disgust at the thought of that. The other generals felt nothing but contempt for him, as a result of his youth and humble background and they also envied his raw skill and battle prowess. All or nothing!, he thought, he would rather risk his life and the lives of his men than swallow his pride and ask for help. He was not going to let another share his glory.

Drawing a deep breath, he gave the order to his men to prepare for another siege. This time, he was going to strike at midday. The sun was up in its raw strength as a group of his men lifted the siege weapons and began to advance towards the wall, surrounded by his battalion in a phalanx. They heard a trumpet sound and soon, the Massada archers were positioned on the wall.
'Shields up!',shouted Agala and his men promptly obeyed. They kept marching forward, hearts pounding as they anticipated the first barage of arrows. They did not wait much longer. Hundreds of arrows flew towards them from above, landing on the ground, their shields and their bodies. Agala heard a few of his men scream as the arrows pierced their bodies. More arrows flew in, more men screamed and more men fell. Agala whistled under his breath, he could now see why the Massada archers were dreaded. They came within a hundred metres from the wall.
'Halt!', he commanded.
His men halted, while still maintaining their formation as more arrows rained down on them. They managed to load their huge catapults with rocks.
'Fire!', he ordered and his men fired the first round. He smiled as he heard screams of the enemy soldiers from behind the wall as they were hit by the missiles. Just then, an arrow brushed past his left cheek and he felt his blood splatter on his body.
'Load!', he ordered madly. His archers swifly loaded again
'Fire!'. More shouts from behind the wall. The archers on the wall were no longer as organised as they had been as a good number of them had been killed and injured by the rock missiles.
'Archers, repeat fire, battering ram with me', he ordered. A group of his men was to stay with the archers, helping them load and protecting them from enemy arrows. The other group was to advance with him to the enemy gates, with the battering ram


As they approached the gates, they suddenly flew open and enemy soldiers poured out, uttering fierce ulutations.





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