Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 2

by J. Clifton Slater

  The Sergeants rode silently after the initial shouting to get the swords, shields, and armor distributed. Their destination flickered in the distance. Light from a single brazier acted as a beacon and the line of men angled for the bright spot.

  As directed, upon arrival the Sergeants formed the men into a giant circle around the fire. The rising sun revealed a pile of woolen blankets on the ground below the brazier. Boredom set in and if it weren’t for the Sergeants, the men would have dropped to the ground and gone to sleep. Again, per instructions, the men were forced to stand and wait.

  ***

  The blankets moved. As if a specter from the earth, they rose from the ground to the height of a man.

  “Silence,” ordered the Sergeants when the men began talking about the strange vision. “Lock shields! Hold your positions!”

  Legionaries would have snapped the edges of their shields together forming an impenetrable barrier. Some of the one hundred fifty men managed to touch the side of their neighbor’s shield, but most left their shields resting on the ground in front of them.

  “What’s this?” a voice demanded from under the blankets. “You invade my campsite? I should jump on you all and slay you where you stand.”

  At the threat, more of the shields lifted. The blankets began traveling around the brazier.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” the blankets stated. “Because back in the city, your best friend is under the covers with your girlfriend. While you stand here like an idiot, she is crying out in passion. Repeating your friend’s name again and again and again. It seems, he is a better lover than you.”

  Several men shouted for the apparition to keep his mouth shut about their girlfriends. The floating blankets stopped and faced in the direction of a man who had protested.

  “Is it my fault you have a tiny mentula?” inquired the ghost. “If he has more stamina than you?”

  One man tossed his shield aside, drew his sword, and ran from his position. The Sergeants didn’t have time to react before the man, with his sword held high for a downward slash, reached the specter.

  A sheath, old with gashes in the leather letting the underlying wood show, swung up from under the blankets. The blunt instrument snapped forward as the blankets stepped to the side. It slapped into the charging man’s thighs. While he stumbled trying to change the angle of his sword, the sheath whipped around and slammed into the angry man’s neck. He sprawled on the ground and the blankets hovered above him before lowering over the prone figure. When the blankets rose, the man lay still on the earth.

  “You break your circle over an insult? You are no better than a pack of rats,” the blankets ventured. “Small frightened rodents with funny teeth. Let me look.”

  The blankets spun slowly around as if examining the men in the circle. “Toothy. It’s a wonder you can drink vino between those fangs. And why don’t you rinse out your mouth once in a while? Your breath smells like rat merda. Oh, maybe you eat rat merda.”

  Two men from separate sections charged forward. Whether it was that insult or a combination of insults, and the early morning, wasn’t clear. What was for sure, the men were out for blood. They came for the blankets with swords and shields.

  With his sword held high overhead, the first kept his shield forward. Five steps from the offender, the blankets sprouted legs and ran at the man before leaping up. Flying horizontally, the specter’s feet slammed solidly into the shield. The man and his shield arced back while his legs continued forward. Before he could recover from impacting with the ground, the blankets settled momentarily over him.

  The second man charged the motionless blankets. Before he could deliver a blow, a sheath shot out and impacted his shins. Despite the pain, the man swept his sword towards the blankets. But the wraith was no longer there. It was beside the man. The second angry man disappeared inside the blankets. When the ghost moved away, it revealed the man lying motionless on the ground.

  ***

  “You break your line and you die,” the specter shouted as the blankets were tossed to the side. Under them stood a naked man. Streaked in dirt, the man stood glaring around the circle. In his hands were two old sword sheaths and, on his head, rested a beaver felt petasos. “You let your temper control you and you die.”

  Alerio strutted around the circle. As he walked, flakes of dirt fell from his skin. He stopped at a gap between shields. The sheaths snaked out between the gap and slammed the shield holders painfully in their hips.

  “Gaps kill. Leave a hole in a shield wall and it crumbles. And you die,” Alerio informed them. When their shields were locked together, he bashed at the shields with both sheaths. The hardwood rang cleanly as they impacted the steadily held wood and metal shields. “These men will not die.”

  Then, he ran to another gap. One shield he kicked away while hammering the side of the other man’s helmet. The man fell limply to the ground and lay there moaning.

  “He is dead. That’s on you,” Alerio spit out at the man trying to bring his shield back to the front. “Gaps kill.”

  Alerio continued around the circle. But the men had learned the lesson and he found no openings in the shield wall. As he walked and tested the wall, the four men in the center of the circle rolled into sitting positions.

  “Get back into the shield wall,” growled Alerio.

  The men in the circle opened the wall to allow the men to take their places. Two of them neglected to lock in their shields. Men on either side of them slapped their helmets and whispered a few words of warning. Soon the wall was a solid circle of shields.

  ***

  “My name is Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera of the Republic’s Legion,” he announced. “Answer me. Break the wall and what happens?”

  “I die,” shouted back the one hundred fifty men.

  “Leave the protection of the wall?”

  “I die,” they responded.

  “Leave a gap in the wall?”

  “I die,” they replied.

  “My name is Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera,” he said again. “I am a weapon’s instructor and it’s my job to keep you from dying. Is it worth listening to me?”

  “Yes, Corporal,” they shouted.

  “Break into lines of fifteen men,” he instructed ignoring the dropped Lance in Lance Corporal. Figuring he’d just received a promotion in the Sons of Mars organization, he continued. “Keep your shields locked and walk to the city walls and back. Go slow, maintain the line, and keep your shields tight. Go! Sergeants, on me.”

  As the circle broke up and the squads moved away, the four NCOs rode to Alerio and dismounted.

  ***

  “You’ll never make them Legionaries, Corporal Sisera,” one of the Sergeants observed.

  “I don’t plan to,” admitted Alerio as he pulled a wineskin of water from under the blankets. After rinsing off the dirt, he slipped on a tunic. “There are five phalanxes coming. I want to prevent them from busting our line.”

  “No line can stand against a phalanx,” commented another Sergeant.

  Alerio sat down and tied on his heavy sandals.

  “I agree,” he said as he stood and belted on a gladius, he found in the Messina armory. “But you can refuse to fight on their terms. Rather than a solid shield wall, I want to create floating centers.”

  Chapter - 44 Uniformed Movements

  The circle reformed and behind each section of fifteen men, a Sergeant sat on his mount.

  “Do not break formation,” one ordered.

  The men stood braced, angry and frustrated. In the center of the circle, Alerio strutted around holding the old sheaths.

  “Will not one of you children come out and fight me?” he cried. “Are there no men in Messina. Just little lads who want to hide behind their shields.”

  He repeated the challenge and each time a Sergeant reminded the men to hold their positions. Then, the weapon’s instructor upped the challenge. He began to pound on the shields with the sheaths while taunting the men.

>   “You there. Should we send you back to change into a dress?” Alerio teased as he beat on a shield. “Maybe you’d be happier suckling babies.”

  One man flinched. “Hold your positions,” bellowed the Sergeant. “What happens if you break the wall.”

  “I die,” the section responded.

  Alerio moved to another section and began pounding on their shields.

  “You two. Should we send you to the animal pens?” he asked between wraps. “You look as if you’d be happier tending the sheep. Holding lambs suits you better than holding a shield.”

  A man took half a step and his Sergeant yelled, “Maintain the wall. Steady.”

  Alerio moved to the next section and, as he beat on their shields, he insulted them.

  “Pirates? You think of yourselves as freebooters, daring sea going rogues?” he ventured. “I say you are cowards. As soon as a warship from Syracuse comes over the horizon, you must squeal like little lasses and row away as your bowels loosen. Does your ship stink of cowards’ merda?”

  The Sergeant was yelling, the men were yelling and two of them charged at the weapon’s instructor.

  Alerio ducked low and put his shoulder on the lower edge of one’s shield. The man went up and flipped over the Legionary’s back. Alerio emerged from under the shield with a sheath in each hand. The man tumbled over and landed on his neck.

  Alerio batted away the second man’s sword and leaped into the air. He cracked the other sheath over the man’s head. Walking back to the first man who lost his temper, Alerio kicked him in the neck.

  “What happens when you break the shield wall?” he screamed while pointing with the broken sheath at the two injured men.

  “I die,” a shocked murmur ran through the circle.

  “What happens when you break the shield wall?” demanded the weapon’s instructor.

  “I die,” this time the circle responded loudly.

  “The next man to break the wall will die,” Alerio promised. “Sergeants, form them up in rows by squads.”

  The Sergeants called their squads to line up on their horses. Once there were rows of thirty men facing the NCOs, they were ordered to face forward. Alerio marched to the head of the formation.

  “Raise your left hand,” he stated.

  Most of the shields lifted but a good number of shields remained still while the right arms raised. Left and right were a major issue for military trainers. Given time to think, a person could figure out left from right. But in the heat of battle, the recognition had to be immediate. A thought occurred to the Alerio.

  “Raise your Port arm,” he shouted. All one hundred shields shot into the air.

  Sailors, he thought, as he walked along the front rank. They had to know the sides of their ships in order to row properly.

  “Make a partial turn to Starboard,” he shouted. All of the formation turned right to face diagonally. “That’s a Lateral. Face front. Turnabout and lock shields.

  The formation became a jumble as some men turned right and others left. Their shields bumped into the man next to them.

  “Starboard Turnabout,” he instructed, and they easily did an about face in unison. Not smooth or pretty but they completed the movement without snags.

  “One quarter turn to Starboard,” he instructed. The formation turned right facing their Sergeants. “That’s a Flank.”

  “Starboard Turnabout.” They about faced and stood looking at the walls of Messina in the distance.

  Now, if they can do the maneuvers while marching, Alerio thought.

  “Start on your Port foot. Forward march,” he shouted. “Port, Port. Now, Starboard Flank. Lock shields.”

  The formation moved forward with a lot of men out of step. He didn’t care as long as the shields were tight, and they moved in the same direction.

  “Sergeants. Pull your squads out of the formation and work them in ranks of two,” yelled Alerio. “I’ll come around and inspect their progress.”

  One of the old Sergeants rode up and looked down on the weapon’s instructor.

  “I served with the Sons in Agathocles’ army,” he stated. “You’re as good in the field as any of our Captains.”

  With that compliment, the NCO kneed his horse and rode back to his squads.

  Chapter – 45 The Fake Greek Command Staff

  Alerio climbed the hill to the Citadel. Inside, he found Captain Crius Nereus sitting with four young men and one of the old Sergeants.

  “Corporal Sisera, good evening,” Nereus greeted him. Then he indicated the four young men. “These are my messengers. Two will travel to the Senate of the Republic with another plea for military assistance. The other two are my messengers to the Qart Hadasht Empire with the same request.”

  The messengers picked up satchels and walked out of the Citadel. Alerio watched them leave. Although he hoped the Republic responded first, he didn’t hold out much hope. General Flaccus had marched north with his Legion and the reserves from the Republic’s treasury.

  “Sit down, Corporal Sisera,” Nereus ordered. “Over the last three days, you’ve done a good job turning rowers into soldiers. But the Sergeants have a problem. So, of course, I have a problem.”

  “And what is that, Captain?” inquired Alerio as he sat across from the Sergeant.

  “Individually the squads respond well to their Sergeants,” explained Nereus. “And the Sergeants trust you. Our problem is we have no battle commander for the heavy infantry at the center of our line.”

  “I assumed you would have Lieutenants in charge of the port, starboard, and center,” replied Alerio using the naval terms. “You must have experienced leaders to face the Syracusans.”

  “Ship’s Captains I have plenty. Even a few retired infantrymen. But no one with land combat knowledge. I’m barely qualified. As I said before, Captain is an honorary title,” he stated. “I was a simple soldier, not a commander.”

  “And I’m only a Lance Corporal of the Legion,” pleaded Alerio. “I have no experience…”

  Nereus cut him off, “No one in Messina does. But history has many cases of young men commanding armies. Alexander the Great comes to mind.”

  “I’ve heard of him,” admitted Alerio. “But wasn’t he the son of a King? My father is a farmer.”

  “All we need is to keep them off our walls until relief comes,” Nereus stated. “Be they Legionaries or Qart Hadasht soldiers.”

  “And keep the phalanxes from chopping our lads into sausage meat,” the Sergeant added.

  “If I have no choice,” Alerio agreed. Then he thought about it and asked, “What rank will I hold?”

  “Lieutenant of the Sons of Mars Militia,” Nereus announced. “I’ve got a stallion and shiny Greek armor for you. The men will need to recognize you in the heat of the fight. And the Syracusans may hesitate when they see us in our Greek Commander armor.”

  “A fake Greek command staff,” whispered Alerio.

  The Sergeant stood, smiled, and hammered a salute into his chest.

  “Captain. Lieutenant. I’d best go check on the men,” the old NCO announced. “By your leave sirs?”

  For the past few days, Alerio had been in charge of the Sergeants. Without thinking he released the NCO. “Dismissed, Sergeant,” Alerio said.

  The NCO left and Alerio glanced at the Captain to see if he was offended by having his authority usurped.

  “Now Lieutenant Sisera,” suggested Nereus without a hint of anger. “Tell me how you plan to deploy my heavy infantry.”

  Chapter – 46 There are Infantrymen then there are Hoplites

  It was two days later that the advanced unit for the Syracusan army arrived at the river Longanus. Alerio, Nereus, and two pirate ship Captains, pressed into the roles of Lieutenants, sat on their horses. From the plain south of Messina, they looked down as a line of wagons and men reached the far bank. Five especially heavy wagons pulled by teams of oxen forded the river. When the wheels sank into the river bottom, men splashed into the water and pus
hed.

  “There’s the reason they took so long to get here,” Nereus observed. “The road must have been a mess after the rain.”

  “Why are those wagons so loaded down?” Lieutenant Frigian, one of the pirate Captains, wondered.

  “Hoplite armor, big shields, and long, really long spears,” Nereus reported. “We’ll out number their soldiers, almost match their cavalry but, we can’t duplicate their heavy infantry.”

  “I thought Lieutenant Sisera built us ten heavy infantry squads,” the other Lieutenant ventured.

  “It takes years to train a Hoplite or a Legionary,” Nereus explained. “Lieutenant Sisera trained our men to move as a unit. If we wanted to match a phalanx, we should have started three years ago.”

  A Syracusan cavalry patrol crossed the river and trotted towards the Sons of Mars’ command staff.

  “Back to Messina,” advised Nereus.

  The four men reined their horses around and kneed them into a fast trot. Behind them, the advance units continued to push wagons and march soldiers through the river and up onto the plain. Tomorrow, the two forces would clash for the right to rule Messina.

  ***

  “Rowers are strong and they can fight,” commented Lieutenant Frigian. “But that’s from a warship. I’m not sure about a pitched battle on a grassy plain.”

  “If you remove the Hoplites, it would be just another brawl,” replied Alerio.

  “If you remove the phalanxes, I wouldn’t be worried,” Frigian informed him.

  Nereus and the other Lieutenant were dining and drinking. After eating, Alerio and Frigian decided to visit with the men assigned to the heavy infantry.

  “Since I became Captain of my own ship, I’ve found it’s good for morale to check on the crew,” Frigian stated as they walked to the staging area where the men were camped. “It’s one thing to attack a merchant ship. There’s no rowing away from this fight.”