Reluctant Siege

by J. Clifton Slater

  Suddenly, three horses came from the field. Alerio’s only warning was the greeting from his horse in response to the whinnies from the cavalry mounts. His mind snapped back to the present but the Syracusan soldiers were already towering over him. With javelin tips aimed at his head, all he could do was stop and acknowledge them.

  “Good evening,” he said looking past the iron points and the long shafts.

  “Nice horse, Son of Mars,” one said with a wicked smile.

  “You sir, have me confused with the Sons of Mars,” Alerio tried to explain. “I’ve never been to Messina. Never met any of those rogues.”

  “He’s Latin,” another of the cavalrymen observed. “And you’re right. It’s a nice horse.”

  A quick jab from any of the javelins and Alerio would be fatally injured or killed. Rather than waiting to see if they were horse thieves or murders, he dropped the reins and rolled away from the three deadly tips. Using his horse to block the cavalrymen, Alerio sprinted into the trees leaving his horse on the road. Unfortunately, his pack, a change of clothing, personal gear, and his fat coin purse were tied on the horse - as was his bedroll with the swords and blanket.

  “Should we hunt him?” asked one of the mounted soldiers.

  “Too dark and those trees have low branches,” another replied. “We have the horse and his pack. Besides, I don’t think he’ll be a problem. Did you see how fast he ran?”

  “Like a rabbit,” the third added. “Let’s finish the patrol and get back to camp.”

  The three rode off. From the tree line, Alerio watched them head south. Once they were out of sight, he sprinted across the road and didn’t stop until he was far into the field. There, he turned and continued his march northward. Now however, he was aware and keeping an eye on the road.

  ***

  When it was almost completely dark, three shadowy riders came along the road heading north. Once the cavalrymen passed, Alerio changed course and regained the road.

  Legionaries marched and Alerio was a Legionary. Throughout the rainy night, he continued his trek. Stopping only to collect rainwater in his oiled goatskin to slacken his thirst, he reached Naxos before the cloudy sky lightened.

  The sight of a campfire protected under a suspended tent-cover made him smile. Mounted soldiers lived good, he thought. To approach the camp, he snaked between toppled granite blocks. They might have once been a temple or a government building. Now they served as cover for the Legionary as he worked his way closer to where the Syracusan cavalry unit slept.

  Across the fire but visible at the edge of the light, he spied seven horses and a supply mule. One of the horses was his. Further confirming his count of the enemy force were three two-man tents. Five soldiers were not in sight. Alerio assumed they were sleeping.

  One guard sat under the cover staring into the fire. He might have been fantasizing about hot food, warmth, dry clothing, and cold vino. At least that’s what Alerio was fantasizing about. But first he had to collect his belongings.

  One of the challenges with launching an attack on a superior force was the inability to match the enemy sword for sword. Even with the element of surprise, Alerio was doomed in a stand-up fight against six trained soldiers. Plus, he didn’t have a sword to use. He did have a finely crafted knife and that would have to do for now.

  Chapter – 38 Natural Selection, Nature Calls

  They selected the campsite with an eye towards repelling an attack. Three tents formed a semicircle on one side of the campfire with the tied horses and the mule occupying the opposing space. Toppled but leaning granite blocks formed a defensive structure between the horses and the tents on one side. Across from those blocks, but further back, more of the large blocks were scattered beyond the firelight. The on-duty guard sat on a smaller granite block facing in the direction of the scattered blocks watching the logical approach an enemy would use for an attack.

  The cavalry troops had done an excellent job of securing a safe bivouac. If a large, noisy force arrived, the guard would alert his comrades. If, however, one wet, weary, and hungry Legionary crept forward slowly in the pouring rain, it was a different situation.

  Alerio moved from block to block, using the granite, not as barrier but, as a way to break up his shape. While still beyond the firelight, he knelt down beside a block to wait.

  ***

  Spend time with troops in the field and you’ll learn one thing. No matter how good the security, before the sun rose, a soldier would need to relieve his bladder. Alerio had drifted off and didn’t see the man emerge from his tent. He did hear grunts exchanged between the sleepy man and the sentry. By the time the soldier walked out of the firelight and into the rain to answer nature’s call, Alerio was awake and moving.

  The soldier yawned as a stream of his steaming water splashed into the wet earth of the ruins. His blanket over his head and wrapped tightly around his shoulders. He yawned again then attempted to scream when the knife blade sliced into his kidney before traveling to sever one side of his spinal cord. No sounds of agony issued from his lips because of the hand clamped over his mouth.

  The soldier was eased to the ground and finished off. His body placed so it sat leaning against a granite block with the sightless eyes reflecting the campfire light.

  Alerio moved off to the side and groaned loudly enough for the sentry to hear. Then, he placed his tongue between his lips and made a fart noise. Not a quick one but, a long drawn out wet sound. And, he groaned again.

  “Gods man,” whispered the man on guard duty. “What crawled up your cūlus and died.”

  Alerio replied with another groan, an even longer fart noise topped off with a final groan which he shut off unnaturally.

  The sentry walked to the edge of the firelight and peered into the rain. As if it would help, he shielded his eyes with his hand, leaned forward and stared into the black rainy night.

  “Trooper, talk to me,” the sentry urged as he stepped out from under the cover.

  He must have seen the campfire light reflected in the dead man’s eyes because he moved directly towards the body. “Are you…”

  With his windpipe severed and the weight of his body supported by his head, which was pressed against Alerio’s chest, the concerned sentry died without finishing the question. Alerio let the body fall on top of the other dead cavalryman.

  When he set out from Syracuse, Alerio’s plan was to get to Messina and catch a ship to Rhégion. There he would make his report to Tribune Velius. If the mounted troopers hadn’t stolen his horse and his equipment, he would be on the way to Messina. Now, he stood in an unguarded camp of sleeping soldiers and the job wasn’t done.

  ***

  An iron pot with tripod legs, ration packs, and bladders of liquid, as well as his pack and his bedroll were stacked beside the campfire. Alerio pulled the swords out of the bedroll and rested them against the granite block beside a pair of javelins. Then he rummaged through the first two food ration packs. Finding a nice stock of supplies, he began to assemble a big breakfast.

  He placed the iron legs above the fire and attached the pot. After filling it half way with water, he ladled in three portions of oats. Laying on more logs, he poked the fire until it blazed up and flames engulfed the base of the pot.

  Pulling out three yams, he placed them in the embers below the burning logs between drinks of vino. Mounted troops did live better than the infantry.

  In the last ration pack, he touched four wrapped packages. The outsides of the wrappings were gritty and Alerio smelled salted pork when he pulled them out of the pack. He skewered the pork slices on sticks and balanced them on the top of the pot. Soon, the delicious aromas of boiling oats, baking yams, and roasting pork filled the air.

  Alerio picked up his swords in one hand and the sentry’s two javelins in the other. Once armed, he strolled back into the dark and the rain to wait.

  ***

  Food in the morning was an individual choice. Some men woke up hungry and the slightest smel
l of food would bring them charging out like a post hibernating bear. Others enjoyed the aroma of food in the morning but often preferred sleep to eating. And a segment of men always chose a warm blanket and their dreams over morning food. Alerio waited to see the distribution of choices among the Syracusan soldier.

  ***

  “What is that smell?” a soldier whispered as he crawled out of his tent. “Praise Hestia, it’s a feast.”

  Before he could rise to his feet, a javelin shaft appeared in his open mouth. The iron head imbedded deep in his gut. The hungry soldier fell face down in the wet grass. Alerio’s stomach growled and his mouth watered as he waited with the final javelin for another of the three remaining Syracusans.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Another soldier’s head appeared in the entrance to a tent. The javelin entered the top of his shoulder, speared his heart before splitting his hip bone. Although he didn’t cry out, the loud grunt woke the final two soldiers.

  At the sounds of confused questioning coming from that tent and the one on the right, Alerio knew the locations of the last two men. Swinging his swords to loosen up his shoulders, Alerio ran to the first tent.

  Sword clutched in hand, the man scrambled over the body of his tent mate. He made it to the entrance and caught a glimpse of the flat side of a sword before he fell unconscious on top of the dead soldier.

  Alerio leaped to the next tent and used his foot to slam the man’s sword to the grass. Then as he did before, he knocked the soldier out.

  Chapter – 39 Unkind Years and Rust

  The rain slackened to a light drizzle and the sky lightened. Someone was chewing loudly and the smell of roasted pork hung in the air. Normally, the aroma would make the soldier hungry. But a throbbing headache and a sour stomach gave him the opposite reaction. He puked up last night’s dinner on his thighs.

  Lifting his head, he saw the Latin from yesterday evening sitting by the campfire spooning boiled oats into his mouth with the ladle. In his other hand, he held a slice of pig on the tip of a long knife. Looking around, he noted his Lieutenant across from him. The officer was slumped over and tied to a tree. After attempting to move his arms, the soldier realized he was tied up.

  “Good morning,” the Latin greeted the soldier. “Sorry about the rude treatment but you took my horse and my gear.”

  “You’ll be stoned to death for this, Son of Mars,” sneered the soldier.

  “About that Son of Mars thing,” Alerio responded between shoving food into his mouth. “I’m a Legionary with the Republic. And, like I said before, I’ve never been to Messina.”

  “Your death will be painful,” the cavalryman warned.

  “You and your officer are alive because I need to complete my report,” Alerio informed the man. “I just need the size of your advance force.”

  “For what purpose? We own Sicilia and the Sons of Mars will be put to death and cast into the sea,” the soldier promised.

  “Maybe it’s the rap on the head. Let’s try this again,” Alerio said as he stood and walked to where the soldier was sitting. “All I need is the size of the Syracusan advance force. It’s a simple question.”

  “Five phalanxes of Hoplites, one hundred mounted, and six hundred soldiers,” responded the soldier.

  “Nine hundred soldiers or so,” observed Alerio. “That’s not a lot of men to take a city.”

  The soldier laughed and shook his head. “You really have never been to Messina,” he stated. “The walls are low. The original Sons of Mars are old and their equipment is rusty. It’ll be a miracle from Ares if they hold out a full day.”

  “Then why is your King marching with an army in four weeks?” inquired Alerio.

  “To claim the city and all the lands between Syracuse and Messina,” the soldier reported. “Now cut me loose.”

  “Cut you lose?” asked Alerio.

  “You said that’s all you needed,” replied the soldier.

  “And it is,” Alerio agreed as he reached out and sliced through the soldier’s throat. Turning to the officer, he performed the same surgery. Then he walked back to the campfire to finish his breakfast.

  Alerio had been taught by veterans of the Legion. One of the first lessons was never give an enemy a chance to counterattack or retaliate. The mounted unit of Syracusan Cavalry wouldn’t be doing either.

  ***

  The clouds cleared, the sun came out, birds sang and the road began to dry. It was a beautiful day and Alerio would have appreciated it. But his eyes were closed. Lulled to sleep by the rocking of a walking horse, he dozed. Behind the horse, six more followed in the napping Legionary’s wake. Although tied to lines, the slow pace and the calm morning had the horses following without putting tension on the lead line.

  The line hung slack until two horses in the back tossed back their heads and danced to the side. Then the line tightened, cutting into Alerio’s thigh and the Legionary woke up.

  Four horsemen rode at him from the north. As they closed, Alerio tugged the line and the horse carrying the javelins, swords, and extra Syracusan armor moved beside him. Without stopping, he extracted two javelins from the holder, placed them across his horse’s neck, and let his horse continue forward.

  Act 7

  Chapter – 40 The Sons of the Sons of Mars

  The riders came up fast but instead of forming an arc where each could employ their weapons, they remained bunched up. Alerio noticed they were young maybe fifteen to sixteen years old. Just a few years younger than him. Despite their youth, their arms and shoulders were heavily muscled. Their legs, however, were those of a normal youth.

  One nudged his horse forward leaving the other three in the center of the road.

  “The road is closed, Syracusan,” the youth announced. “Turn around. Go back to King Heiros and tell him the Sons of Mars are ready to fight.”

  “How far is it to Messina?” Alerio asked as he used a thumb to shove the petasos back on his head.

  “Are you deaf?” the young rider spit out. He kneed his horse forward as if to intimidate the man under the hat. “This road is closed.”

  “How far is it to Messina?” repeated Alerio while placing a hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn. All four of the youths watched the hand move over his mouth. They missed Alerio’s other hand as it untied the lead line from his horse.

  Between the yawn, the fancy felt hat, and the man’s dismissive attitude, the youth exploded.

  “Do you have a death wish?” he screamed kneeing his horse closer. “We’ll cut you down. Soak the earth with your blood and leave your corpse for the beetles.”

  Alerio smiled and asked, “How far is it to Messina?”

  The youth drew back his javelin, kicked his horse forward, and jabbed with the weapon.

  Alerio leaned to the side, snatched up the two javelins in one hand, and struck the side of the youth’s head. As he toppled off his horse, Alerio kneed his mount forward. With a javelin in each hand, he charged the other three.

  They hesitated. Holding the tips of their javelins forward, as if to ward off the attacking horseman, the three sat unmoving.

  Alerio drove his horse among them sweeping right and left with the shafts of his javelins. All three were quickly unseated. Before they could recover, the Legionary dismounted and walked to each smacking them in the head.

  ***

  The walls were low, the sun was low, and the guard at the gate was bored. At least he was until a rider came into view. From far down the road, he sighted a single rider leading a herd of horses. Most of the mounts had packs, he assumed, slung over their backs.

  “Sergeant of the Guard,” he called out. “Rider coming. Looks like a trader.”

  A middle-aged man strolled to the gate. His armor, like the guard’s, showed years of patching, and miss matched replacement pieces. The Sergeant squinted as he peered down the road at the rider.

  “Your eyes are terrible,” the Sergeant exclaimed. Then, without explaining, he hurried back through the gate shout
ing, “Call out the guard! Call out the guard!”

  The cry was picked up by other voices and the Sergeant stood waiting for his duty squad. Meanwhile, the guard at the gate held up his hand, curled his fingers, and looked through the tunnel trying to bring the rider into focus. When he did, he understood the Sergeant’s reaction. The rider was armored and four of the packs on the horses’ backs were actually bodies.

  Long moments later, enough time for the rider to come closer and details to be visible, ten young men appeared. They wore armor and carried shields from the Republic, different Greek States, the Qart Hadasht Empire, and some locally made but of poor construction. As they arrived at the gate, some were still pulling on their armor.

  “In our day, we would have been dressed for battle and challenging the rider by now,” the guard called from outside the gate.

  “You would have been hungover,” replied the Sergeant as the squad formed ranks. “But you would have been standing in the shield wall, long before this lot got dressed.”

  “What’s up, Sergeant?” one of the squad members asked.

  “An armored rider. Syracusan by the looks of him,” the Sergeant reported.

  “You called us for a single rider?” another commented.

  “It’s a good drill,” the guard outside the gate observed. Then to himself, he mumbled, “The Sons of the Sons of Mars are not their fathers.”

  Chapter – 41 Messina

  Alerio gently pulled the reins bringing his horse to a stop. It didn’t stop the nine horses on the lead line to halt. Six were cavalry mounts. They came forward flanking Alerio with the other three dragged along by their lines. If the horses had riders it would have resembled a cavalry charge.

  A twelve-man squad stretched across the road with a Sergeant standing in front of them. To the Legionary, they looked no better than barbarian tribesmen. Large shields, not as massive as Legion shields, were held in haphazard manners. Some rested on the ground, others held off to the side. Only a few were forward and touching the neighboring shields. Behind the shields, the troops were relaxed to the point several had their legs crossed at the ankles.