Unjust Sacrifice

by Slater, J. Clifton

  “They look like picket lines,” Savium remarked.

  “The Marines are stationed there to keep prying eyes away,” Alerio told the senior Centurion.

  “Are you positive you aren’t going to sink my ship?” Savium questioned.

  “Your ship will float just fine,” Alerio lied. He had no clue but didn’t want the Centurion or his deck officers to worry. “There’s a carriage waiting for you and your Principales. Praetor Sudoris is expecting you for dinner.”

  “Be sure my ship is here in the morning, Sisera,” the Centurion warned as he dropped over the side.

  Flictus Savium and the deck officers hiked through the sand. Following a line of Marines holding torches, they climbed the bank. At a carriage, the driver handed each man a mug of wine.

  “This is service,” the First Principale commented after taking a sip.

  “Courtesy of Centurion Sisera,” the driver told the officers. “I’ll have you back at the command building before you finish the vino.”

  “What if we finish first?” the Third Principale asked.

  “Sir, there is a wineskin on the seat next to you,” the driver assured them.

  It was a pleasant evening and two of the deck officers’ pseudo saluted when the carriage rolled through the line of Marines. Behind them, the oarsmen and sailors from the Deimos’ Claw approached the same line.

  “Where are you going?” a Marine NCO asked.

  “To town,” an oarsman responded.

  “No, you aren’t,” the Optio informed him. The other rowers stacked up behind the first. “Your bivouac is behind you. As well as food and drink for the evening.”

  “You can’t do this,” the rower protested.

  “First, you have food and beverages behind you. Second, we need you well fed and rested for tomorrow. And third. Oh Hades,” the NCO ceased his explanation. Pivoting his head, he glanced behind him. “Tesserarius, what are the orders for anyone approaching us from outside our picket line?”

  “A tragic training accident,” the Corporal replied from the dark. “They staggered into our night javelin range.”

  “You see gentlemen, we have provided everything you need including security,” the Optio proclaimed. “Have a nice evening.”

  All along the line, the three hundred oarsmen and fifteen sailors from the Deimos’ Claw were turned around.

  “I don’t get it, Optio,” a Private asked from the dark. “Why not let them go to town?”

  “Some of those oarsmen are spies for the Senior Tribune,” the NCO answered. “We don’t want people roaming around during the installation.”

  A heavily loaded wagon came down the embankment and rolled across the hard ground. When the wheels sank into the sand, a Century of Marines appeared and pushed it to the warship.

  “Is this going to work, sir?” Optio Rutri Gurganus inquired.

  “If it doesn’t, can you find a place for me in your Century?” Alerio suggested.

  “I need torches, the lumber and the ropes up here on the deck,” Rutri shouted down to the wagon. Then to Alerio, he answered. “I could find a place for you. But, I’d rather have you right where you are.”

  “Then let’s get this thing built,” Alerio announced. “And win this war game.”

  Chapter 21 – Hunter Chase

  While the concept came from Nicholas DeMarco, the structural idea originated with the ship’s carpenter. The Egyptian described the strength of reed boats. Overlapping the materials allowed for integrity under twisting stresses and the ability to survive the application of violent impacts. But rather than reeds and sticks, Alerio’s team used long planks. Placed in staggered layers and bound by closely spaced rope ties, the beam easily reached thirty-six feet in length.

  After sawing off the top section it was reattached by leather hinges. In front of the forward mast, the butt end of the beam was fashioned to an iron bracket affixed to the deck. Then, using two sets of rope, the beam was raised, and the upper section folded in like the handles on a pair of shears. Finally, the beam was lashed to the mast.

  Rutri Gurganus craned back his neck to stare at the mast, the beam and the folded section with the spike. They were static outlines against the dark night sky.

  “That is our edge, sir?” Rutri questioned.

  “No Optio. Our edge is the specialized Marines,” Alerio corrected, “What you’re looking at is a delivery system.”

  “Unkindness,” Rutri offered.

  “The perfect word to describe our group of ravens,” Alerio confirmed.

  ***

  The day was bright and the sea smooth with low swells. On the horizon, ten quinqueremes rowed in a line as if passing in review.

  “A perfect day to chase an elusive target,” Centurion Savium exclaimed with a glance at the clear blue sky. “At least my oarsmen will break a sweat.”

  “What do you mean?” Alerio asked the ship’s senior officer.

  “Last night at dinner the senior Centurion for the Adiona for Us said the Senior Tribune had ordered him to avoid contact,” Savium replied. He indicated the beam tied to the mast. “It’s makes us a little forward heavy, but nothing that will hinder my rowers.”

  “The Adiona for Us?” Alerio questioned. “I get honoring the Goddess of Safe Returns for a merchant vessel. But isn’t it an odd name for a warship?”

  “Centurion Sisera, you wouldn’t say that if you knew the entire name the crew uses,” Flictus Savium informed him. “The entire slogan is a safe passage for us, not for you.”

  “They are making their turn,” the Third Principale announced from the forward deck.

  His warning was passed on by the Second Principale who stood midship on the rower’s walk. Centurion Savium acknowledged the course change.

  “First Principale, put us on a heading to face the enemy forces,” Savium ordered.

  While the deck officers shouted directions to the steering oars and the three hundred rowers, Alerio glanced fore and aft. The other ships of the yellow squadron also turned to face the blue squadron.

  “Can you identify the Adiona for Us?” Alerio inquired. To him, the ten ships of the opposing force all looked the same.

  “Lubricum's flagship will be easy to locate,” Flictus Savium declared. “It’ll be the one hiding behind their formation.”

  “Can you break through?” Alerio questioned.

  “Not without a judge declaring us sunk,” the ship’s commander commented. “But as I told you, my crew needs a good sweat. And success will secure my position.”

  “I appreciate your confidence,” Alerio offered. “but failure will ruin us both.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Savium remarked before addressing the first deck officer. “First Principale, pick a side, select a sustainable pace, and get us around their formation.”

  Each ship in the exercise had a representative from the Senate. Their job was to observe the rams’ location during attack runs. They would then signal which was closer and declare one ship the winner and the other the loser of the engagement. While two squadrons faced off in the war games, there was a twenty first warship out that day. It belonged to Praetor Sudoris.

  The Praetor had less interest in the outcome of the duels between ships. He was more interested in how the Centurions managed their crews and vessels. A bad showing could have the officer demoted to a First Maniple Century of inexperienced Legionaries. A duty assignment that made a veteran Centurion into a nurse maid. Neither Centurion Sisera nor Savium wanted that job.

  ***

  “I can’t tell the difference between their ships and ours,” First Tribune Lubricum admitted.

  “We have them contained in our box,” the senior officer of the Adiona for Us reported. “At least most of them.”

  “What do you mean most of them?” Lubricum demanded.

  “One swung wide and the bow officer can’t locate him,” the Centurion replied.

  Almost as confusing as the round up of wild horses, the opposing warships circled, jogge
d out from the pack, then turned away. Manipulating their oars, the warships positioned and repositioned trying to get an advantage on the enemy.

  A few did make attack runs. After the surface of the sea flowed over the tops of their rams, the ships came close then rowed away.

  “Winner,” two judges announced with flags.

  While the boldest ship’s Centurion turned his vessels seeking another opponent, the loser rowed for shore. So far, three of the Republic’s warships had the dishonor of leaving the war games.

  “Enemy ship sighted,” the fore deck officer called out.

  The message bounced from the rowing officer to the steering deck.

  “Where?” the First Tribune asked. He scanned the battling warships in front of him. “I can’t make it out.”

  “Look to the starboard side, Senior Tribune,” the ship’s officer directed. Then to his first deck officer. “Deimos’ Claw has breached. Head towards him.”

  “No, no, row away,” Lubricum insisted.

  “We can’t run, sir. It will reflect badly on the crew of the Adiona for Us,” the senior Centurion told him. He might have said the crew but they both knew Praetor Sudoris was watching the Centurion. “We can charge the Claw but stay away from his ram.”

  “And away from his side boards,” Lubricum added.

  Then Lubricum thought about the situation and decided he wasn’t worried. On the Adiona for Us, the Tribune had fifty heavy infantrymen, ten archers, and a ballista. Even if Centurion Sisera’s misfits got grappling hooks across, he had the manpower to cut the lines before the ships were reeled together.

  “Fine, do a run at them,” the First Tribune agreed. A smile crossed his face and he added. “If you get the opportunity, ram them.”

  ***

  Under the guidance of Centurion Savium, Deimos’ Claw plowed the waters, cut behind the mass of attacking warships, and located the Adiona for Us.

  “First Principale. Back off and save the oarsmen,” the ship’s first officer ordered. “Watch them and let me know which side is weakest.”

  “Weak side?” Alerio inquired.

  “Just like a maniple, one side of a combat line will be weaker,” Savium stated. “It maybe leadership or a few less fit or physically smaller men. Despite the reason, if my first deck officer can detect which are the fragile oars, we’ll attack that side.”

  Alerio studied the rise and fall of the ninety oars on each side. To the infantry officer, they appeared to be in sync and in rhythm.

  “Starboard side, Centurion,” the First Principale reported. “They have a pause in their engine.”

  “The center of their power strokers?” Alerio ventured. “How does that happen?”

  “Could be one or two are ill, or the strongest rowers are angry,” Savium replied. “In any case, their main drivers on the right side are in disarray.”

  “Starboard to starboard?” the first deck officer asked.

  “Right down the side,” Savium agreed. “Let’s see if we can break a few of their oars.”

  “I need less than a twelve-foot gap,” Alerio proposed. “Can you get that close?”

  “For a few strokes at the end of our attack run,” Savium advised. “We can do six-feet, but it’ll mean shipping our starboard side oars.”

  “I would suggest you pull them in anyway,” Alerio instructed.

  “But we’ll lose strokes and forward progress,” Savium described.

  “If the contraption at the mast works,” Alerio told him. “you won’t have any forward movement to lose.”

  ***

  The Deimos’ Claw surged forward as the drummer intensified the beats. In response, the stroke rate increased to an unsustainable level. Before the rowing fell into confusion or oarsmen collapsed in exhaustion, the warship adjusted. With the ram aimed at its opponent’s waterline, the warship plowed ahead.

  Coming at the Claw, the Adiona for Us split the sea and targeted the other warship with their ram. Both ships were attempting to be the last to turn away. At the bow rails, the judges studied the rams watching to see who came closest without shattering the other’s side boards.

  The bronze fins of the rams at the front of the keels threw sea water into the air. When half a ship’s length separated the weapon heads, Marines raised swords and cut the line holding the beam to the forward mast. Ten more seagoing Legionaries grabbed ropes and pulled. Another group put shoulders against the beam and rotated it to face the path of the Adiona for Us.

  “Drop it,” Alerio shouted. “Pull.”

  The tall beam began to fall in the direction of the empty sea. As it leaned, the upper section and the spike swung out and up. The ropes tightened, holding the moving section until the big beam fell at the same rate.

  Thirty-six feet from the base of the mast, the spike fell towards the sea. Then, the bow of the Adiona for Us moved under the iron barb.

  Chapter 22 – Look Around

  The artilleryman on the ballista craned their necks back and gawked at the beam. Standing by their weapon on the foredeck of the Adiona for Us, they watched as the long iron spiked dropped towards them. The men on the bolt thrower weren’t the only ones watching the falling beam and the spike. Legionaries near the bow threw themselves out from under the falling beam. The artilleryman ducked and the spike slammed into the deck boards.

  The iron pin punched through the boards of the Adiona for Us and a ripple raced along the staggered planks of the boarding beam. Even though a couple of rope ties popped, most of the bindings survived leaving the two warships connected by a plank beam.

  ***

  Until the ramp crashed and held together, Centurion Savium only half believed the device would work. But just bridging the gap over the water did not win the battle. Although in disorder for the moment, the Legionaries on the Adiona for Us would soon collect themselves. If they organized quickly, they might come across and threaten Deimos’ Claw.

  Then Savium felt an odd movement of his ship. From a forward heading, the vessel was slipping sideways, and the boarding beam shifted, clearing some of his deck and some of the Adiona for Us’ deck. In horror, the ship’s senior officer realized what was going to happen.

  Marines ran to the moving beam and raced out over the sea. Only through the grace of the Goddess Adrestia did they maintain balance. Defying gravity and the jerks of the boarding beam that threatened to throw them off, twenty-five Marines reached the Adiona for Us and leaped onto the deck.

  Screams and cries of pain pulled Savium’s attention from the Marines. As the quinqueremes drifted together, he was glad his starboard side rowers had been alerted to pull in their oars. The oarsmen on the Adiona for Us were not forewarned.

  A whole young fir tree created each oar. And while debarked, dried, and carved, the tree trunk had weight. The hard lumber inside the ship reacted violently to the snapping of the wood outside of the hull. Oarsmen flew off their rowing benches with broken arms, legs, backs, and snapped necks. Screams from below drowned out the war cries from the attacking Marines and the defending infantry on the upper deck.

  “But we are on the same side,” Savium remarked in a weak voice. He imagined the unseen brutality below deck on the other warship and cringed. The seriousness of the war games came into focus when the Marines reached the defenders on the Adiona for Us.

  ***

  Six Marines jumped out of line when the file leaped from the boarding ramp to the deck. The half dozen sprinted to a couple of infantrymen who had misjudged the moving beam and landed hard. Beyond them three artillerymen by their ballista climbed to their feet.

  While rushing by the downed Legionaries, each Marine hammered the infantrymen in the helmet. Both lay unconscious and defenseless as the Marines moved to the bolt thrower and beat down the artillerymen. In a few heartbeats, the foredeck of the Adiona for Us belonged to the boarding party.

  “Brace,” the Optio of the infantry ordered. Then to ease the anger of his Legionaries at the cruelty of the Marines, he promised. “We’
ll make them pay shortly.”

  In straight rows with their big shields locked, the ranks created a barrier between midship and the aft deck of the Adiona for Us.

  A twenty-sixth Marine jogged unsteadily across the beam.

  “We lose in a standoff,” Optio Gurganus reminded his Marines. “Take a few shields.”

  Rather than deadly javelins, the Marines and infantrymen carried wooden spears with blunt tips. Even with the snubbed noses, when the Marines threw, the Legionaries huddled behind their shields against the impacts. While the infantry ducked, the Marines unwound ropes from their waists.

  Eight ropes ended in loops and were cast onto the shields or helmets of the Legionaries front row. With solid yanks, the Marines managed to dislodged shields or at least pull the men holding the shields off the line. Then the other nine ropes were employed. Whirling a weighted end around, those Marines sent rocks into the exposed rows of Legionaries.

  Furious at the abuse, the entire unit of Legionaries took a step forward.

  “Optio. Control your ranks,” Senior Tribune Lubricum commanded. If the infantry broke ranks to seek revenge, the fight could become a melee. In the commotion, Sisera’s Marines might get through the Legionaries, the archers, and reach the steering deck. He insisted. “Hold your lines.”

  “Get back in formation,” the infantry NCO bellowed. “Steady your ranks.”

  All eyes from the Adiona for Us were focused on the rude and rough behavior of the Marines on the bow. Then a loud whistle cut through the air. To everyone’s amazement, the Marines backed off, formed ranks, and dropped to a knee behind their shields.

  “Sisera. Junior Centurion Sisera,” Lubricum shouted. He peered at the nearby deck of the Deimos’ Claw. There were men lined up at the rail, but none were the unruly weapons’ instructor. The Senior Tribune called out again. “Sisera. Do you yield. Look around. The infantry controls half the deck, I control archers and the steering platform. You hold a toe of the fore deck. Do you yield?”