Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 2

by J. Clifton Slater

  “Wait till it’s dark and pull half your forces,” instructed Hanno. “Join with Gisco’s units from the town. I have scouts watching the street. They’ll report any shifts in the invader’s units. Let me show you the street on the map.”

  ***

  Tribune Claudius stepped carefully down the dark stairs. Once on the street, he headed for a roaring fire and First Sergeant Brictius.

  “Good evening, First Sergeant,” Claudius greeted him while pointing back with both thumbs. “Is this enough security to satisfy you.”

  A tall, thick Sergeant and a short, beefy Corporal hovered behind the Tribune’s shoulders.

  “Almost, sir,” Brictius replied. “The Sergeant is an expert at escape and evasion tactics. And the Corporal is the wrestling champion of his Legion. But I want one more element before you go wandering across a dark combat zone. Lance Corporal Sisera, front, and center.”

  “You’re the Legionary who organized Messina for our crossing,” Tribune Claudius ventured as Alerio walked into the light. “You did an excellent job. But First Sergeant, why Lance Corporal Sisera.”

  “Our Lance Corporal is a master swordsman,” Brictius replied. “I don’t expect trouble. But if it finds you, I’m confident these three Legionaries will see you safely back to the command post.”

  “This is an inspection tour, not a combat patrol,” The Tribune informed his First Sergeant. Brictius saluted but didn’t say anything. Claudius having received the top NCO’s meaning, ordered his bodyguards, “Let’s get moving.”

  At each barricade on each street, the Tribune talked to the men. He asked about hometowns, family members and promised better accommodations after Messina was captured. Alerio couldn’t decide if Tribune Gaius Claudius was a caring Legion commander or a master politician. After he thought about it, he realized, there wasn’t a difference.

  The inspection team met Senior Centurion Valerian as the Tribune spoke with Legionaries at the wide road.

  “You can see a light in the Citadel from here. It’s faint. Must be in a back room away from the watch portals,” Claudius informed the men.

  “You can see the light, sir?” asked a Legionary. “I’ve been telling the squad about the light, sir. But no one believes me.”

  “You and I, Legionary, are blessed by Theia,” pronounced the Tribune. “You keep watch here and I’ll watch over you and your squad from Temple hill.”

  He left an excited young Legionary and an amazed squad as the inspection team moved further south. They had passed the first street and were headed for the second when Senior Centurion Valerian jogged up behind them.

  “Tribune. The young Legionary with the good eyes. Were you serious about seeing the light?” Valerian asked.

  “It’s a rare gift. And yes, I was quite serious about seeing the light,” replied Claudius. “Why do you ask?”

  “The young man took you up on watching out for his squad. Since you left, he’s been off to the side of the fire’s light fixated on a point far up the dark road,” Valerian explained.

  “He’s doing his job. Excellent,” Claudius commented. “Morale is why we’re doing this.”

  “Yes, sir. But he reported seeing units of troops crossing the road. No one else saw anything,” Valerian informed the Tribune. “I wasn’t sure whether to take him seriously or not.”

  “Senior Centurion Valerian. If one blessed by Theia mentions seeing something, it’s not a vision or a trick of the mind. It’s because he has witnessed reality,” Claudius explained. “In what direction were the units heading?”

  “South, sir,” Valerian replied. “But we don’t know what streets they’ll come down.”

  “Tribune. I suggest you head back to Temple Hill,” recommended the bodyguard Sergeant.

  “Not yet,” Claudius insisted. “I don’t hear any Empire war cries. Let’s do one more street.”

  As Alerio followed the tribune the guard Corporal leaned over and whispered, “I don’t think the Qart Hadasht use war cries.”

  They were almost to the third street when a sentry challenged them, “Halt. State your name, rank, and unit.”

  Even in the dark, they could see the leveled javelin and shield.

  “Gaius Claudius. Tribune of the Legion expeditionary force to Messina,” replied Claudius. “Since when do you challenge behind the lines?”

  “Since we caught two spies,” the Legionary replied as he raised the javelin tip into the night sky. “The Sergeant and Centurion are questioning them in the shed just behind me.”

  Claudius rushed for the shed with Valerian right behind him. The bodyguards sprinted to keep the Tribune in their pocket of protection.

  The entrance to the shed faced east and when Claudius opened it a little light spilled out.

  “Light! Close the door,” the Centurion snapped. “What’s so important?”

  “I could ask you that,” Claudius replied as he stepped in and closed the door.

  “Tribune, I didn’t know,” the officer began to explain but Claudius cut him off.

  “You caught spies. Are there more?” he demanded

  “After we pulled these two off the walls, we checked,” the Centurion reported. “Just these two watching our squad at the intersection.”

  “Kill them and wake your men,” Claudius ordered. “You have Qart Hadasht headed your way. I’ll send all the help I can. But your squads are my spearhead.”

  The door opened and closed quickly. The Tribune called out.

  “Senior Centurion Valerian. The third street is the target. Get as many Legionaries there as you can spare,” Claudius commanded. “Lance Corporal Sisera. Can you rally the Sons of Mars to back us up?”

  “Yes, sir. Once you are safely back at your command post,” Alerio replied.

  “Then let’s get moving,” Claudius said as he headed north.

  Senior Centurion Valerian vanished in the dark as he sprinted away.

  ***

  Sub-commander Gisco stood behind his one hundred and fifty soldiers. Down the street where the front of his Company and a half waited was a gap. A few paces away, another one hundred and sixty soldiers stood in columns. Further down the street at the head of his soldiers,’ Sub-commander Barca waited.

  “Down the street are the invaders,” Barca said. “We are going to sweep them into the harbor. March silently until it’s time.”

  “How do we know when it’s time?” asked a soldier.

  “When you gut the first rank of dirt farmers,” he explained getting a laugh from the men at the head of the columns.

  Barca smiled and waited for the exchange to be repeated back through the Companies. The farther back it went, the better he felt with each laugh. Then he had a bad thought. What if instead of gutting a dirt farmer, it got twisted to gutting a sub-commander?

  He shook off the feeling and announced, “Forward!”

  Turning with his bodyguards, he marched down the hill at the head of his men.

  Soon the fire of the Empire’s barricade came into view. Then the fire of the invaders appeared a block ahead.

  Stepping to the side and marching slower, he let his Companies begin flowing passed him.

  Barca ordered, “Form ranks. Form ranks. Form ranks.”

  By the fourth row, the soldiers were spreading into ranks by themselves. The lead rank passed the first fire. Barca kept up the pace, staying four ranks back and watching the fire in the intersection ahead. So far, there had been no cries of alarm. When the fire was a quick sprint ahead, Barca ran forward shouting.

  “Charge! Charge!” he commanded and his soldiers responded.

  The front rank lowered their spears, maintained spacing and alignment as they jogged towards the fire.

  Than a voice called out in the dark from beyond the Legion barricade, “Brace! Brace! Brace!”

  Act 6

  Chapter 34 - Diplomacy

  Barca couldn’t separate the ranks of the invaders from the shadows. Had he time to think on it, the entire intersection a
ppeared darker than the surroundings. But he was entering the intersection with the third rank. Once his soldiers cleared the cross streets, he’d order a flanking maneuver and turn the attacking ranks northward. They would sweep in behind the invaders’ lines and decimate the upstarts…a sharp pain shot through his brain, his head snapped to the left, and he stumbled forward before falling into oblivion.

  ***

  The leading ranks of the Qart Hadasht soldiers expected a quick smash, a turn and a hard, running fight to the edge of Messina. Instead, they slammed into ranks of Legion shields. As their bodies stopped as if colliding with a brick wall, the ranks behind shoved them onto the blades and javelins of the Legionaries.

  By the fourth rank, the intersection was filling as soldiers attempted to flow around the logjam by moving off to the sides. The first charging to the left and right also died on Legion weapons.

  The sixth rank didn’t reach the intersection. They tripped over the bodies of their comrades. Lieutenants began shouting conflicting orders. Some calling for a retreat and others reinforcing the charge command. The attack faltered and the street leading to the intersection filled with confused, milling Qart Hadasht soldiers.

  ***

  Senior Centurion Valerian wanted desperately to order an advance. But his two hundred Legionaries were arranged in a semicircle around the intersection. If he ordered it, they would attack and trip over the wounded and dead soldiers. That wasn’t the problem. The issue was they’d end up converging and assaulting each other.

  As a result, he waited as the shouting and cursing from up the street receded. Eventually, the sounds of Qart Hadasht soldiers faded and silence returned to the dark street.

  “Stand down! Hold your positions,” he shouted. “Pass the injured to the rear!”

  ***

  Tribune Claudius paced the dark hilltop. Even though runners reported the success of his Legionaries, he couldn’t rest. Not with Qart Hadasht units roaming the town and his lines thin. Even with the pirates backing up his men at the barricaded streets. Plus, he didn’t completely trust the Sons of Mars and their brigand attitude.

  ***

  Shortly before daybreak, sub-commander Gisco climbed Citadel hill.

  “They were waiting for us, Admiral,” Gisco reported to the silent shadow standing on the crest of the hill. “And sub-commander Barca is missing.”

  “Missing?” inquired the big shadow.

  “He was at the front, prepared to turn the ranks,” Gisco replied. “He never returned from the intersection.”

  “And, where were you?” demanded Hanno.

  “I was with my Companies to the rear of his,” Gisco responded.

  “Don’t go into the Citadel. Head directly to the south wall defensive positions,” instructed Hanno. “If the Syracusans see we are weakened, we’ll be fighting on two fronts.”

  “Of course, Admiral,” Gisco said as he turned and started down the hill.

  ***

  The sun had barely appeared above the eastern mountains. In the morning light, Captain Milon Frigian strolled up the steps. At the top of Temple hill, he was challenged by the command post guards. After waiting for a while, they ushered him into the command tent.

  “Good morning to you, Tribune Claudius,” Frigian said with a smile. “A very good morning as you broke the attack by the Qart Hadasht soldiers. With help from the Sons of Mars, of course.”

  “Thank you for your help, Captain,” Claudius replied. “What can I do for you?”

  “I have good news and a request,” Frigian responded holding out his hands as if they were scales. He waffled them up and down each in turn.

  “I could use some good news,” Claudius suggested.

  “Among the wounded prisoners from last night’s activity, you have a Lieutenant,” Frigian said as he raised one hand higher and paused. As he continued, he lifted the hand over his head. “And sub-commander Barca.”

  “Two Empire officers,” Claudius replied flatly. “I wasn’t aware, but what of them.”

  “Oh, my dear, Tribune. Barca is the number two officer in Hanno’s detachment. That’s if you don’t count Gisco and nobody does,” Frigian explained. “And the Lieutenant is the eldest son of an important family. Two, honey sweet, royal hostages. Now, Tribune, if you find them a nuisance, the Sons of Mars will gladly take the pesky officers off your hands.”

  “No Captain. I believe I’ll hold onto them,” Claudius explained than asked. “You have a request?”

  “When armies battle, the fields will flourish after the trampling and the grass will regrow,” Frigian began. “But in a town, the trampled are the women, children and the old.”

  “I wasn’t aware of any civilian casualties,” pleaded Claudius. “But this is war. Have them stay inside.”

  “That’s the problem, Tribune. They have been inside and are running out of food, water, and some require medical attention,” Frigian informed the Legion officer.

  “Those in areas controlled by the Republic are free to come out,” offered Claudius.

  “Unfortunately, the farms are beyond the west gate and many of the fishermen live in Empire sectors,” explained Frigian. “If you could see your way to speaking with Admiral Hanno…”

  Claudius held up the palm of his hand and exclaimed, “What makes you think Hanno will talk with me?”

  “The Admiral is a nobleman and a military man, but his family are traders,” Frigian informed him. “All the Qart Hadasht aristocrats are in business. Maybe you and the Admiral can reach an agreement? I’ll be there to help in any way I can. As a matter of fact, the Sons have in our possession a large Egyptian tent. We will erect it on an empty lot between your two lines. See, I’m helping already.”

  Claudius thought silently before replying, “I’ll send a message. And if Hanno agrees to a parley, you may attend on one condition.”

  “And, what would that be, Tribune?” Frigian asked.

  “You don’t say a word during the negotiations,” warned Claudius. “One word, one whisper, or sound from you, and I’ll walk out. Is that clear?”

  “Tribune Claudius. My Lieutenant and I will be so quiet, you’ll forget we’re there,” promised the Sons of Mars’ Captain.

  ***

  At the same time Frigian walked the stairs to Temple hill, Ferox Creon strolled to the top of Citadel hill.

  “I am Captain Ferox Creon, the new leader of the Sons of Mars,” explained Creon to the duty officer. “And by rights, the Magistrate of Messina. I’d like to talk with Admiral Hanno.”

  “Stay there,” instructed the Lieutenant. He walked to a door, rapped, opened it and leaned inside. After a few words, he returned to his desk. “The Admiral will see you.”

  Creon strutted through the doorway and walked briskly to Hanno’s desk.

  “Admiral, good morning. I am Ferox Creon, the new leader of the Sons of Mars,” he announced. “Before you say anything, the crews who have thrown in with the Republic are renegades. Disavowed by the Sons who are loyal to the Empire.”

  “You mean all the damage to my soldiers have been from a few dirt farmers?” sneered Hanno. “All right, let’s say you represent the Sons of Mars and they are loyal. What do you want?”

  “Our businesses and trade are suffering from the invasion,” explained Creon. “Farmers can’t get their produce to market, ships can’t row into the harbor to barter, and local craftsmen are unable to ply their trade.”

  “And that is the Empire’s fault?” inquired Hanno. “If you want Messina open for business tell the invaders to leave.”

  “Very astute of you, Admiral. That’s exactly the reason I came to see you,” Creon said with a smile. “The loyal Sons of Mars would appreciate it if you’d parley with Tribune Claudius.”

  “What makes you think he’ll meet with me?” inquired Hanno.

  “Claudius is a farmer as you’ve pointed out. What do farmers enjoy more than talking about the weather and haggling over everything?” Creon stated. “The Sons happen t
o have a fine Egyptian tent we picked up in our travels. Let’s say we erect it on an empty lot between the Empire sector and the block temporarily occupied by the invaders. I would, as the Magistrate, make myself available to assist in any way you require.”

  “I will send an inquiry to the Tribune,” Hanno promised. “But there is a stipulation.”

  “Please Admiral, name it,” begged Creon.

  “During the conference, you will not utter a sound,” warned Hanno. “If I hear a resonance from your throat, I will walk out.”

  “Admiral, you have my word that my Lieutenant and I will say nothing,” Creon assured him.

  ***

  Tribune Claudius,

  The merchants of Messina are greatly inconvenienced by your presence. I propose we discuss your withdrawal at the apex of the sun. The Sons of Mars will provide a tent for our talk.

  Admiral Hanno of the Qart Hadasht Empire

  ***

  Admiral Hanno,

  The people of Messina suffer from your continued resistance to the inevitable. If you are agreeable, I suggest we meet in the tent provided by the Sons of Mars and celebrate a midday repast.

  Gaius Claudius, Tribune of Caudex Legion, representative of Consul Appease Clodus Caudex, Consul Marcus Fulvius Flaccus, and the Senate of the Republic, and citizen of the Republic

  ***

  The sun lingered high overhead. While most of Messina sought shade to enjoy the midday breeze, the wide center road hosted two small military parades.

  Tribune Claudius and Senior Centurion Valerian marched up the grade. Behind them came a squad of Legionaries in perfect step with their equipment cleaned and polished. They represented excellent examples of the Republic’s finest.

  Admiral Hanno and Lieutenant Maharbaal marched down the grade. Close behind and moving in unison, followed a squad of Soldiers. Their equipment also shined and oiled to display the best of the Empire.

  From opposite directions, the small displays of military pride converged on the billowing tent of Egyptian cotton. Layered with overlapping sheets of blue and yellow, the tent allowed air flow while providing privacy for the occupants. As the military participants approached the lot where the tent was pitched, two other parties emerged from buildings to the west and east. Unlike the men in armor with swords and gladii, the Sons of Mars wore loose tunics without blades.