“Now you’ve informed a possible traitor of my plans,” Claudius exploded. “I want that man held under guard until after I launch my operation. For the security of my plan, I demand it.”
Velius smiled letting the expression crease his thin, wrinkled face.
“Lance Corporal Sisera. Report to First Sergeant Gerontius and inform him that you are under arrest,” Tribune Velius instructed. “No charges will be forthcoming. However, you are to be under guard until Tribune Claudius’ operation is underway.”
“Yes sir,” responded Alerio with a salute.
As the Lance Corporal disappeared from sight through the interior door, Claudius glared across the map table at Velius.
“I’ve heard about the relaxed attitude of the Southern Legion,” he challenged. “Here at the end of the Republic, you’ve lost your military bearing. In the Legions I’ve served with, a Lance Corporal like Sisera would have been taken away and locked up.”
Velius half closed his eyes as if trying to bring the other Tribune into focus. Then he inquired, “How many Legions have you served with?”
“I was on the General’s staff in the Eastern Legion. And was promoted to Military Attaché to the Senate for the Central Legion,” Claudius said with pride. “Now, I’m a commander for Caudex Legion.”
“I’ve served with six Legions in my career,” Velius informed him. “The Southern Legion is my first experience with a garrison command. I don’t have much to compare it to. You are quite possibly correct. Let’s get back to your operation.”
Later in the afternoon, Tribune Claudius left without much new information. The plan he and Consul Caudex had formulated was solid. Hit Messina rapidly after arriving before the Empire knew what they planned. This meeting with Velius had been a waste of time, thought Gaius Claudius as he strolled through the Legion Post.
In the Planning and Stratagies room, Gerontius stuck his head through the interior doorway.
“Anything I can do for you, or the assault force, sir?” he asked.
“First Sergeant, let’s gather the Southern Legion and hold a sunset parade and inspection,” suggested Velius without looking up from his relief map.
“Sir, you know the Legion is spread out along the coast for over a hundred miles,” replied Gerontius. “I could form up the Post garrison and the boat handlers for an inspection if you want.”
“No. That won’t be necessary,” Velius said as he rested two fingers on the map. They barely covered the harbor at Messina. “But you might want to alert the Medics and the patrol boat crews. Tomorrow could be a busy day for them.”
“Yes, Tribune, I’ll put them on standby.”
“Dismissed, First Sergeant,” Velius whispered. He ran his fingers the short distance from Messina, down the Strait to where he let them rest on the port of Rhégion.
***
Tribune Gaius Claudius strutted out of the Post gate, heading towards where his Centuries were camped. As he passed between rows of upside-down patrol boats sitting on support frames, he noted Lance Corporal Sisera. Rather than being detained, Sisera was holding a hammer and a broad headed spike. Hot, wet pitch and fibers dripped from the end of the spike.
“Sergeant. Why isn’t that man locked up?” demanded Claudius of a scarred NCO who seemed to be in charge.
“We don’t lock people up in the Southern Legion, Tribune,” Martius, the Chief of Boats, explained. “The Legion is shorthanded. Instead of locking them in a cell which requires guards, we give them the worst job possible.”
“But he was performing that tasked before his arrest,” noted Claudius as the Lance Corporal pounded the pitch and fiber between boards on a boat. “Was he under arrest then?”
“No, sir. He was taking an advanced class in boat handling,” Martius replied. “If you’re going to be a coxswain of a patrol boat, you’ve got to know how to maintain your boat.”
Tribune Gaius Claudius stormed off, resuming his trek towards his camp. Halfway there, he glanced back still fuming at the nonchalant attitude of the Southern Legion. A group of Legionaries rushed through the gate and snatched up hammers and broad headed spikes. He didn’t understand the commotion, so he continued to his unit.
***
“Senior Centurion Georgius. Command meeting in my tent,” Claudius ordered as he walked between the Legion tents. “Have all the boat Captains attend.”
“Even the Greek Captains?” inquired his Senior Centurion.
“I said all. Was I not clear?” Claudius challenged.
“Yes, Tribune. You were. I’ll round them up,” Georgius agreed as he marched away.
In his tent, the Tribune poured a mug of wine and sipped it while he waited.
Chapter 16 - Dawn Attack
“Lance Corporal Sisera, get your cūlus out of bed and join me,” Gerontius called across the barracks.
“On the way, First Sergeant,” Alerio replied as he swung his legs off the bed and reached for a tunic and his hobnailed boots.
“Follow me,” Gerontius ordered when the Lance Corporal materialized from the dark.
“What’s up?” Alerio asked while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Outside is was dark although the mountains to the east displayed a crown of illumination. They crossed the Legion parade ground and bypassed the Command Building. At the narrow west gate, Gerontius pushed through and they crossed a gravel area arriving at the base of Rhégion tower.
“We’re going to watch the Legion’s assault on Messina,” the Senior NCO advised as they climbed the ladder.
“I’d rather be in a shield wall,” Alerio admitted as he climbed. “No offense First Sergeant but, facing Empire troops is preferable to spending the morning with you.”
“What? You don’t like me?” teased the NCO.
“It’s not that, First Sergeant,” Alerio informed him. “It’s standing on formalities the whole time.”
“If that’s your problem, Lance Corporal, you’re going to hate today,” Gerontius said as he climbed through the floor of the observation level and stepped away from the ladder.
“What do you mean?” inquired Alerio as his head poked above the platform.
“Because the pleasure of your presence was requested by Tribune Velius and Senior Centurion Patroclus,” announced Gerontius before he paused and said. “Good morning, sirs.”
“Sisera, get up here and give us an idea of what Tribune Claudius faces in Messina,” Velius requested.
Alerio leaned over the short wall and down at the docks of Rhégion harbor. Although still dark, lanterns and torches on the eleven Corbita transports showed crewman stirring on the ship’s decks. A glance to his left showed only the dark beach with faint shapes of the four Triremes.
“Over there, lookouts will be posted at the top of the Citadel,” Alerio stated as he stood straight and pointed. Realizing no one could see his outstretched arms, he added. “On the hill of Messina, waiting for light to report on any ship movements.”
“Our signalmen do the same from this tower,” broke in Senior Centurion Patroclus. “Tell us about their defenses.”
“When they see our ships launch, they’ll alert the garrison and their warship rowers,” Alerio reported. “Our convoy will head north and out of the Strait. Once clear of the current, they’ll come about and row for Messina harbor. By then, the docks will be guarded by soldiers and the harbor patrolled by their ships. When our convoy reaches the port, they’ll have to stop and untie the merchant ships strung across the mouth of the harbor, blocking access.”
“What about our warships?” inquired Velius.
“When the merchant ships blockading the harbor swing free, the Empire warships will come out and bypass our Triremes. They’ll concentrate on ramming and sinking the troop transports before battling our warships. The few transports that make it through will have to use the docks because of their deep draft. Legionaries making it off the transports will face lines of Empire infantry on the pier. If they drive them back, the Legionaries can f
orm a shield wall. Then, it’s a battle of attrition.”
“Your description sounds bleak,” ventured Senior Centurion Patroclus.
“It is, sir. Messina’s strongest defenses are along the harbor,” Alerio replied.
“Can we expect any help from the Sons of Mars?” asked First Sergeant Gerontius.
“No, Sergeant. Admiral Hanno had them disarmed when he arrived,” Alerio reported. “Maybe once the Republic has a foothold they’ll supply food and fresh water. But, they’ll be no help during the initial assault.”
Below them and to the left, the voices of NCOs and Centurions called out as they mustered the Centuries. Soon, lines of armored Legionaries appeared on the docks below. The troops began to file onto the transports.
“Remember this day,” advised Tribune Velius. “It’s the first time forces of the Republic have crossed over a body of water to engage an enemy.”
“The Legion has rowed across rivers,” Senior Centurion Patroclus reminded the Tribune.
“Would you equate the Messina Strait with a river?” inquired Velius.
“There are no rivers that deep or, with currents running that strongly. Unless you include mountain streams,” listed the Senior Centurion. “For clarity, let’s say crossing a major body of water.”
“Fair enough. This is the first time, Legion elements have crossed over a major body of water to engage an enemy,” Tribune Velius stated correctly. “I’m not sure if it means the end of the Republic. Or the start of something grander. We’ll have to let history decide.”
***
“Georgius. I want them loaded before sunrise,” Gaius Claudius reminded his Senior Centurion for the fifth time. “Where is First Sergeant Brictius?”
“He’s on the dock, facilitating the boarding, sir,” Georgius replied.
“Excellent. Today, we shall lunch at the Messina Citadel, First Centurion,” Claudius exclaimed. “I want Brictius on the first transport. Let him form an advanced line. You’ll come in on the third transport to take command of our spearhead attack.”
“And where will you be, sir?” asked Georgius
“I’ll come in on the first Triremes and secure the beach,” Gaius Claudius said with pride. “My elements will fight their way to where you’ve set up my command post. Then we’ll push the Empire out of Messina. Now go see about the loading while I coordinate with the Triremes’ Captains.”
Senior Centurion Georgius had seen maps of the harbor. The beach was far from the dock and the path to the city ran through the dock. There was nothing between the two landmarks to protect. The fight for Messina would begin at the dock. The Senior Centurion kept his opinion to himself, saluted, and walked away.
***
“What do you mean, we shouldn’t row out?” asked the angry Tribune. “If you have reservations about this operation, you should have voiced them at the command meeting last night.”
“I did, Tribune. You said you’d consider them in the morning,” the warship Captain replied.
“Apparently, I have and decided to go ahead with the attack on Messina,” Claudius announced. “As soon as we have sunlight, I want to be on the way. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Tribune,” the four Legion Captains replied.
***
Alerio watched as the first line of transports pushed off and were caught in the north bound current of the Strait. The crews backed their oars down attempting to slow their progress. But the Corbita transports were under powered and soon, the first six were strung out while the last five were just untying from Rhégion pier.
Two Triremes launched from the beach and rowed frantically to get ahead of the lead transport. They had almost reached them when Qart Hadasht warships emerged from the Messina harbor.
***
First Sergeant Brictius shouted at the Greek Captain of the transport as the harbor of Messina slid by.
“Turn the ship, you gutless sack of merda,” he bellowed.
“Current has us,” the Greek replied while pointing at the harbor entrance. “Blocked, it’s blocked.”
Brictius hoisted himself up on the pilot deck, glared at the Captain before turning to study the harbor. Sure enough, merchant ships were tied bow to stern across the mouth of the harbor.
“We need to board those ships,” he declared. “When can we turn?”
The Captain indicated ahead where the land narrowed and the waters of the Strait seemed to boil against the shorelines.
“When can we come about?” asked the First Sergeant.
“Out past the Strait’s current in the open water,” the Greek reported. Then he called attention to the ships behind them. “Better here than back there.”
First Sergeant Brictius spun around and he ground his teeth in frustration.
***
Senior Centurion Georgius’ transport started to turn towards the harbor. The current gripped the deep draft of the Corbita, causing it to sail sideways as the four crewmen strained to row across the Strait. He judged they wouldn’t make it based on how swiftly the shoreline fell behind them.
“What’s our alternative course?” he asked the Greek Captain.
“Make it to open water and turn around,” the Captain related. “But we may not make it.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Georgius.
The Captain lifted a hand from the rear steering oars and pointed at the hook of land that protected Messina harbor. Waves rolled back from an Empire warship’s ram and swiftly, the ship itself rowed fully into the Strait. The ram, riding just below water level, tossed back white foam and blue water. Before Senior Centurion Georgius could shout a warning to the fifty-five armored Legionaries huddled in the cargo hole, the ram slammed into the transport’s side.
The ram punctured the hull and the Qart Hadasht rowers on the port side shipped their oars. With the Starboard oars doing power rows, the Empire warship turned further off its attack angle. As the warship arched away, the ram splintered and shattered a gash half the length of the transport.
On the pilot deck, Georgius actually looked down on the deck and the rowers of the Empire warship. Below the waterline, the ram killed two Legionaries on the initial punch through the hull. No one else died as the brass head and shaft moved down the hull as unstoppable as a boulder tumbling down a mountain. Some managed to remove their helmets before the cold waters of the Strait slammed into the fifty-five Legionaries. And as if fingers, the water pulled the transport over, trapping them in the overturning ship. Their screams became muted gurgles as the Corbita was sucked down into the depts of the Messina Strait.
***
First Sergeant Brictius screamed his anger as the Empire warships rammed three transports. The ships flipped over and his heart broke as one hundred and sixty-five of his Legionaries died without a chance to fight back. Then the first two Legion Triremes rowed at the Empire warships.
At first, they gave him hope of revenge. But the Empire ships easily avoided the rams of the Republic ships. Looking far to the south, he sought the other two Triremes. They weren’t in the water. Both rested on Rhégion beach, near where they were when the convoy launched.
At the pier, five transports had made it back to the dock. A quick count and he realized only two others were underway. They, as well, were caught in the current being propelled north. Thankfully, the Empire warships were busy with the Republic’s Triremes. The transports slipped by the battling warships.
Just before his transport rounded a finger of land and he lost sight of that part of the Strait, an Empire warship rolled and turned. Its starboard side oars momentarily out of the water jutting towards the sky. Then the warship righted itself and the ram angled down the side of a Republic’s Trireme.
***
Alerio gasped at the quickness of the Empire warships. He understood the sluggish nature of the transports, but he was embarrassed by the poor performance of the Republic’s Triremes.
With the three transports at the mouth of the Strait and his sister Trireme flounde
ring, the last Republic warship rowed for the safety of Rhégion beach. As if vipers returning to their snake pit, the warships of the Qart Hadasht Empire slithered back into Messina harbor.
“Lance Corporal Sisera. My eyes aren’t as good as they once were,” admitted Tribune Velius. “Are those storm clouds to the north?”
Alerio, the Southern Legion’s Senior Centurion, and the First Sergeant cupped their hands over their eyes to study the distant sky.
“Storm clouds and moving fast, Tribune,” answered the signalman. He stood behind the group holding a tube of rolled leather up to his eye. As if a lopsided unicorn, he moved the tube searching the sky to the north. “It’s a bad one. There is one positive note.”
“What’s positive about any of this?” growled Gerontius.
“The Strait is turning, First Sergeant,” replied the signalman. “The transports can make a run back to Rhégion on the southbound current. If they hurry.”
Everyone in the tower gazed northward straining their eyes searching for the three transports. Then, rain in the distance fell slanting to the west. Before the transports appeared at the mouth of the Strait, visibility dropped to nothing as rain and gusting winds reached the tower.
Chapter 17 - Dangerous Strait
“Have the men remove their armor and drop their gladii,” shouted First Sergeant Brictius at one transport then he repeated the order to the ship on the other side. “Drop armor and gladii.”
The three transports circled around and rowed side by side headed back in the general direction of the Messina Strait. Brictius’ wasn’t the only voice yelling. The three Greek Captains alternated between pointing at the darkening sky to the north and the entrance to the Strait ahead.
“What’s the problem?” Brictius asked the Captain of his transport.
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