***
“Maybe you’d like to run down to your camp and take a nap,” teased Alerio as he paced back and forth while crossing and uncrossing the swords in front of him. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t run. There’s a cut on your leg.”
“I’m going to cut your heart out,” the Hoplite threatened. But he remained where he stood on one leg while probing the wound on his thigh.
Alerio widened the sword swings and lengthened the distance he paced.
“I’m waiting, Greek,” he shouted so his voice carried along the battle lines. “Are you a coward? Or worried about a little blood? Come forward and fight me!”
The Syracusans behind the Hoplite bristled and called for their champion to kill the pirate. On the other side, the Messina militia shouted encouraging words for Alerio.
Spectatorship was intoxicating. To build up the courage to participate in a sword fight, or to charge an enemy, took momentum, energy, and compulsion. But watching a blood duel was freeing. The troops on both sides were in full voice with passion for their champion. If they weren’t divided by a no man’s land, the opposing forces would probably mix and bet on the outcome.
Alerio took in the sporting mood on the battlefield. He doubted the Syracusan commanders could rally their Hoplites and soldiers from this atmosphere to mount an attack. With that thought in mind, he extended his arms out as if crucified, raised the tips of his swords, and turned his back on the Greek.
***
The unprotected back proved too tempting for the Hoplite. His first step was powerful but the second, on the injured leg, caused him to break stride. Still, the Legionary stood in the ridiculous victory pose unmoving. Gritting his teeth against the pain from the cramps caused by the wound, he hopped forward while raising his sword.
Alerio prayed to Mars that the idle time had cooled the muscles of the Hoplite’s thigh. Listening to the shuffling let him know two things - where the Hoplite was located and that he was favoring the stiff, injured leg.
To compensate for the lack of mobility, the Hoplite took a longer final step in order to deliver the killing blow. Just a little beyond his normal stance. But still in his comfort zone, even if it the extension forced his shield from in front of his body. He wanted a drink. He wanted to bandage the leg. He wanted to sit down. But mostly, he wanted to kill this Legionary.
Alerio heard the Greek’s foot slam down on the dirt. Rotating to his left, he brought his swords together and hooked the blades on the back edge of the Hoplite’s shield. Using the hooked blades to increase his spin and speed of two steps, the Legionary pulled himself around the shield and away from the falling sword.
The Hoplite changed the angle of his blade, attempting to reach the moving Legionary. But his shield cocked to the right limiting the reach. Suddenly the Legionary was beside him, moving and still turning. Hoping to duck away, the Greek leaned to his right.
Alerio’s spinning steps carried him around the shield and momentarily, he faced the Greek. But he was over rotating, his momentum pulling him past his foe. As he fell behind the Hoplite, Alerio jerked both swords from the shield and in a sweeping motion raked them across the Greek.
As the Legionary fell behind him, the Hoplite started to turn. Then he felt a burning sensation on his upper arm. Glancing down, he convulsed at the sight of the peeled skin and the exposed bone. But, there was too much blood. Separate from his arm, blood ran over his shoulder and down his chest. While still holding his sword, he raised the back of his hand to his neck. His knuckles sank into a deep wound, and his knees buckled. The Hoplite fell face down on his shield.
“This was a brave warrior,” announced Alerio to the Hoplites and soldiers. “Take his body to your camp. Give him the funeral rites he deserves!”
The Legionary stood waiting to see if another Hoplite stepped forward to fight or if his suggestion worked. When two Hoplites marched from the line, he set his shoulders ready for another battle. Then he noticed their swords were sheathed. Relieved, Alerio backed off so they could pick up the body and carry the Hoplite from the battlefield.
Alerio tossed down the Greek sword and gave the Syracusans a cross chest salute. Then he slammed his gladius into its sheath, about faced, and marched towards the Messina defensive line.
“What happens when Hoplites break their shield wall?” one of the infantrymen asked.
Another infantryman looked around from his place in the defensive line. “They die,” he replied.
Another pointed at Alerio and added, “Because the weapon’s instructor kept his promise. He kills them.”
Chapter – 49 A Night to Plan a Day to Die
“Lieutenant Sisera, what’s our plan for tomorrow?” inquired Nereus.
Unlike the Legion, where meals were cooked by individual squads, the Captain had ordered food from the community kitchens in Messina. The infantrymen and irregulars ate at tightly packed camps along the defensive line. The only open space was the circle around the command staff’s campfire. Alerio and Nereus sat and talked while the other Lieutenants were off setting up guard rotations for the night.
“In the morning, the phalanxes will come straight through our center and stab us in the heart, Captain,” Alerio answered. Then he thought for a moment and asked, “What would you do if this was a sea battle?”
“Facing five Greek triremes?” replied Nereus. “Row away as fast as the oarsmen could stroke. Unless…”
Alerio waited while Nereus turned his face upward and stared at the darkening sky.
“Unless it was twilight. We’re pirates and not always bound by the fears of our crews,” Nereus explained. “We might lay off until dark, before rowing in and doing a little damage to the beached warships. Then, we’d run for open water. Our ships would be long gone before sunrise.”
“You described two actions. One to wound the enemy and the other to avoid them,” pondered Alerio. “They might get us killed, but I have a couple of ideas.”
“Run away?” inquired Captain Nereus.
“In a manner of speaking,” Alerio admitted. “I need sailors from two boats. Oarsmen from your most tightly knit boat crews. The mounted Sons and two of our heavy infantry squads.”
“The river Longanus isn’t navigable, and horses don’t fit on biremes,” explained Nereus. “If you’re thinking about rowing up behind the Syracusans.”
“The crews aren’t for rowing,” replied Alerio. “But they know each other and can work in unison under extreme conditions. And we’ll need more firewood.”
“Extreme conditions and firewood?” a confused Nereus asked. “I don’t follow.”
***
Deep into the night, Alerio reached out and, by feel, placed the squads of infantrymen online. Once the shields were locked, he separated two and sneaked between the gap. To the rear, he located the first oar of a boat crew. Leading the man and his rowers, they moved to the gap and he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. The boat crew waited.
Alerio moved down the line and separated another pair of shields. Again, he crept through and brought up another crew’s first oar and the rowers. Taking the first oar’s hand, he tapped out a ten count before moving back to the other first oar. There, he grabbed the man’s arm and propelled him forward.
Both boat crews filtered silently between the shields heading for the sleeping camp. They didn’t see the guards that Alerio had killed to make their passage unobserved by the Syracusans.
One crew angled for the horses, oxen, and supply wagons while the other moved to where the Hoplites stored their long spears and shields. Because they entered the camp at the same time, the exterior guards were confused when the wagons flared up, the horses broke from their tethers, and oxen fell from sword strikes. Part of the confusion was the line of men calmly carrying spears and shields through the camp. Until the spears and shields were tossed into the burning wagons, the guards didn’t have a target. Then they did.
Cries of alarm rose throughout the Syracusans’ camp and soon soldiers an
d Hoplites were up and arming themselves. In the lanes between their tents, they searched for infiltrators. A few noticed the bodies running for the night. They gave chase until a shield wall and swords leaped from the darkness and stopped the pursuit. While the camp was in chaos, the boat crews vanished into the night.
The horses stampeded until they were rounded up by the mounted Sons. Soon the cavalrymen’s horses were herded towards Messina.
The Syracusan command staff gathered at the edge of their camp. Across the grassy plain, Messina militia troops, backlit by roaring campfires, moved back and forth. None of them appeared to be coming to forward to further assault their camp.
***
In the predawn, when the Messina campfires were low and movement settled down, the soldiers and Hoplites came abreast and marched across the grassy plain. Seeking revenge for the night raid, they planned to catch the pirates unaware. Secure in the knowledge the Messina defenders lacked discipline, they began to jog in order to cover the ground and complete the surprise attack.
They broke into a run and their lines spread as the faster men outdistanced the slower or less enthusiastic among them. At the first campfires, they hacked blankets covering the lazy pirates as they raced deeper into the enemy’s camp. Soon the Syracusan force was spread from the middle of the grassy plan to the center of the Messina camp. A few stopped, puzzled by the lack of response. Some used their swords to toss back blankets only to find sticks and sod rather than an enemy.
***
Alerio rose up and waved his five squads of heavy infantry forward. In front of them, stragglers and disjointed Syracusan units strolled to catch up with their braver comrades. They didn’t see Alerio’s infantrymen or those closing from the other side of the plain - oblivious to the danger until the first of them were struck down.
The infantry squads joined up in the center and turned to face Messina. Finally locating an enemy, the Syracusan commanders turned his units and began to push the Hoplites and soldiers into a battle line. At last an enemy to challenge, they screamed.
Then, the Messina irregulars and horsemen charged from the gates of the city. They attacked the Syracusans from the rear.
***
Alerio was tiring. All morning, he took a place stabbing over the infantrymen’s shoulders with a javelin, screaming orders to reinforce weak places in his line, and choosing squads to rotate from the battle line to a resting place behind the fighting. Even though his infantry was maintaining their shield integrity, they faced an experienced fighting force. Slowly, they gave ground as the Hoplites and soldiers hammered the Messina militia backwards.
Messina’ cavalry and the irregulars were the only reason the infantry wasn’t overpowered. Caught between two attacking forces, the Syracusans had to divide their men to fight on two fronts. On the sides, the Messina horsemen kept them boxed in with savage charges.
Despite the success, Alerio realized his infantrymen were exhausted. It was time to cut the Syracusans loose.
“Sergeants, wheel your center squads back,” he yelled, “Break the dam and let the Syracusans flow.”
Two Sergeants ran up behind the squads holding the center of their line. After calling up another squad, they peeled back the two men in the center. Seeing a gap, the soldiers and Hoplites ran for the open field. The wider the gap, the more Syracusans escaped. None of them thought to turn around and continue the fight. They were as fatigued as the defenders of Messina.
Act 8
Chapter – 50 The Commander and the Captain
“Lieutenant Sisera. Another day, another victory,” Nereus exclaimed as Alerio staggered into the meeting with the Captain and the two Lieutenants. “The original Sons of Mars would be proud.”
“What are we going to do to them tomorrow?” asked Frigian with enthusiasm. He pointed to the cookfires blazing in the Syracusans camp. “I’d say, they’re done for today.”
“Sorry, Lieutenant, Captain but I’m all out of ideas,” admitted Alerio. “I’d just like to sit down.”
Crossing his legs, the Legionary sank to the ground. Frigian handed him a wineskin and sat beside the Legionary.
“Truth be told, we lasted longer than I thought we would,” Frigian exclaimed. “It was a grand adventure, but I’d rather be at sea in a typhoon with a green crew than here.”
“And I’d rather be at my father’s farm,” added Alerio as he handed the wineskin back to Frigian.
A silence fell on the Sons of Mars command staff as they sat and thought about another day of field combat. None were thinking positive thoughts.
“Lieutenants. I believe I see a solution to our problem,” announced Nereus while climbing to his feet.
Alerio, Frigian and the other Lieutenant stared up at the Captain expecting him to voice a plan. But, Nereus wasn’t looking down at them. His eyes were locked on the gates of Messina.
Through the portals marched columns of armed and armored troops. Their shields flashing in the midday sun, they marched out and began spreading across the grassy plain as they moved closer. Soon units of the newly arrived troops stood between the militia and Messina.
“Are they from Syracuse?” asked Alerio.
“No, Lieutenant Sisera,” replied Frigian as he stood up. “Those are Qart Hadasht mercenaries.”
A man in a yellow cape with polished armor strutted from the Empire’s lines. He stopped at a group of infantrymen and they pointed towards the command camp.
“The officer must be looking for me,” guessed Nereus as he looked down at his blood-stained armor then back at the approaching man in the spotless armor and cape.
The Empire officer marched to the camp and looked at the three standing men with disdain. Although his knees were inches from Alerio’s face, the officer ignored the sitting Legionary.
“I seek Crius Nereus,” the Qart Hadasht officer demanded.
“I’m Captain Nereus. Let me introduce my staff,” Crius greeted the man. “This is…”
“You are to report to Admiral Hanno at the Citadel,” the Empire officer ordered cutting Nereus off. “Whom you drag along with you is none of my business. The Admiral waits.”
Crius blushed and he formed fists with his hands. Before he could respond to the disrespect, Frigian reached out and placed a hand on his arm.
“Go see the Admiral,” Frigian advised. “We’ll see to our wounded. Take Sisera with you.”
“I’ll go speak with this Hanno,” growled the leader of the Sons of Mars. “Lieutenant Sisera, come with me.”
Alerio pushed off the ground and did a quarter turn as he rose. With his face only inches for the Qart Hadasht officer, he replied directly into the officer’s face.
“Yes, Captain,” Alerio emphasized the words as he smirked at the officer.
“Now! Lieutenant,” Nereus ordered when he realized Sisera’s hand clenched the bloody hilt of his gladius. “Come with me!”
Nereus walked off hoping the Legionary would follow and not start trouble by killing the Qart Hadasht officer. He relaxed when Sisera immediately fell in beside him.
“Arrogant mentula, isn’t he?” ventured Nereus.
“Qart Hadasht cūlus,” Alerio agreed.
***
Nereus and Alerio passed patrols of Qart Hadasht soldiers as they threaded through the narrow streets of Messina. On the road running from the harbor, the two men turned west and continued towards the Citadel.
Alerio glanced over his shoulder. Beached ships deposited more armored troops and other ships rowed into the harbor. All the new ships were Empire design. The Legionary began to count the number of Qart Hadasht soldiers entering Messina.
They began the hike up to the Citadel. Three officers in Empire armor stood glaring down at them as they climbed the hill.
“A Republic Legionary?” one commented as Nereus and Alerio reached the flat at the top of the hill. “I didn’t know the Republic had troops here.”
“They don’t. This is Lieutenant Sisera who is on my staff,” Nereus res
ponded.
“And who are you?” demanded another.
“Captain Crius Nereus, commander of the Sons of Mars,” Crius proclaimed. “and governor of Messina.”
A tall officer holding an elaborate helmet under his arm appeared in the doorway of the Citadel. His shaved head reflected sunlight, causing the dark and fierce looking man to glow. He approached with a scowl on his face.
“Not anymore,” he announced. “I am Admiral Hanno of the Qart Hadasht Empire. As of now, you are the Civilian Magistrate for Messina. Unless you prove unworthy. Then I’ll replace you.”
“I am the Captain of the Sons of Mars. That’s my authority,” Crius informed Hanno. “You are simply a guest in my city. If you don’t act civil, we’ll expel you.”
Hanno didn’t respond. He raised an arm and pointed to the grassy plain. Far below and over the city’s defensive walls, the heavy infantry and irregulars of the militia were lined up. Under the eye of an Empire officer and his troops, the Messina defenders were tossing their armor, swords, and shields on a pile before being allowed to enter the city.
“You have no need of an armed force,” Hanno explained. “but I need rowers for your ships to continue the business of Messina. For now, I allow them to live. As I do you, Crius Nereus. Do not try me. I can change my mind.”
With those words, the Qart Hadasht Admiral spun around and strutted back into the Citadel. For a moment, Nereus glared at the empty doorway then he turned away and marched stiffly down the hill.
Alerio took longer as he ran his eyes up and down the three Empire officers as if appraising livestock. Finally, he smiled and nodded at the officers before following Crius Nereus off the hill.
Chapter – 51 Captain Frigian
Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 2 Page 22
