“One of us must live,” the Etruscī replied. “I decided it should be me.”
He began a series of blows to Eutropius’ shield. Each strike in the same place and with the same intensity. Almost as if he didn’t have a different tactic in his arsenal. He pounded until the Insubri fell into a defensive rhythm and began to anticipate the next hit.
‘Trap’, the word popped into Eutropius’ mind when he pushed his shield early to deflect the anticipated strike. If a fighter wanted anything in a battle, it was to know where and when your opponent would react. Eutropius so far had been predictable, deadly predictable.
On the next blow, the Insubri angled his shield. The blade struck and slid low and wide. Eutropius swung his javelin over his shield and slammed it into the Etruscī’s helmet. The man rocked back but Eutropius didn’t give him time to recover. Jabbing over both shields, he stabbed four times before the Etruscī collected himself and backed away.
Eutropius knew he’d broken flesh by the roar of the spectators. When the Etruscī raised his shield to prevent an attack over his shield, the Insubri dropped to his knees and raked the javelin’s point across his opponent’s ankles. Blood spurted from the slices and the man collapsed to his knees.
Rolling back, Eutropius jumped to his feet and ran around behind the Etruscī. While trying to turn, his opponent fell over when his feet didn’t respond to the commands. The javelin severed his spine and Eutropius left it sticking out of his back like a flag pole.
“I’ll take my pony, my safe passage letter, and my life,” Eutropius said to Alerio as he dropped his shield and stripped off his helmet. “You taught me well, Legionary. I’ll remember the lessons.”
***
Blood from the last fight must have been for the crowd as the man with the rake didn’t bother to clean up the sand. Both Consuls left their platforms and started down the hill trailing their entourages. Because it was a nice afternoon, the crowd stayed. They were drinking, eating and a few were acting out combat scenes from the three matches.
Corporal Daedalus and most of the city guards had left. Only a few hung around to watch the citizens enjoy the after effects of the funeral games.
“Good job, Lance Corporal Sisera,” Senator Maximus gushed. Then he scolded, “We could have done without the Legion demonstrations. Especially after my talk about Sicilia.”
“Yes General. I apologize,” Alerio replied. Relief flooded his stomach at the Senator’s words.
“Now, I want to see my barbarians,” demanded Maximus.
He brushed by Alerio as did Consul Flaccus, the five Senators and Belen. Alerio followed them into the tent. As he entered, he heard Maximus telling his group the strengths and weaknesses of the three Insubris. Alerio relaxed when Belen handed each warrior a piece of parchment.
“I am a man of my word.” Maximus boasted. “Those are your letters of safe passage. A cavalry escort will be here soon and Belen has clothing for you. I don’t think Master Kellerian will let you keep his armor.”
The Armorer stood at the rear of the tent next to a smoking brazier. He bowed slightly at the mention of his name.
Before Maximus or anyone else could say more, Consul Codex’s voiced carried to them from outside.
“Citizens of the Republic! The Qart Hadasht Empire is threatening our trade route through the Messina Strait,” the Consul yelled.
Consul Flaccus, Senator Maximus and the others hurried out of the tent. Alerio stuck his head out to see Appease Codex standing in the arena with a fistful of bloody sand in each hand. Behind the Consul, Tribune Gaius Claudius, standing straight and tall, was the perfect image of a Legion officer.
“They have taken Messina and stolen the riches of the port and the surrounding lands,” he continued. “By heritage, the Sons of Mars are descendants of the Republic.”
The crowd stopped mingling and everyone on the slope turned to watch the new entertainment. After witnessing the blood matches, they were excited and Consul Codex was saying the right things to arouse the public.
“We have suffered financially from recent wars. Now is the time. We must march on, we must fight for, we must own Sicilia! The island’s riches wait to fill our coffers. It’s there for the taking. You witnessed the precision of our Legionaries, here on this very sand today. Now is the time for the Qart Hadasht Empire to taste the steel of our Legionaries.”
The crowd was yelling their approval. Consul Flaccus whispered something to Senator Maximus. They marched away from the cheering and the rest of Consul Codex’s speech.
“Tomorrow, in the Senate, I am asking for a Legion to go south and throw the Empire out of Messina and off Sicilia,” Codex bellowed. He began letting the blood-stained sand pour through his fingers. “Our Legions have beaten the Etruscī and the Insubri. Now it’s time for the Empire to learn the power of the Republic. They will leave Sicilia. Or, by my hands, their blood will flow and color the sands of Messina red.”
***
Alerio pulled his head back in the tent.
“Has Senator Maximus left?” asked Tomas Kellerian. When Alerio nodded yes, Tomas turned to Seventh squad, and shouted, “Now!”
The Legionaries jumped on the Insubri warriors. They held the barbarians down with their right arms stretched out.
“Master Kellerian, I don’t understand what we’re doing,” protested Alerio. “These savages have been freed and given safe passage.”
“You asked for my condition to train them,” the Armorer replied as he walked to the brazier and lifted out an iron bar. One end glowed red-hot. “I spent my life defending the Republic against barbarians like these.”
Tomas pulled a sharp pair of clippers from his belt. Kneeling on Petrus’ arm, he snipped off the man’s little finger and his ring finger. While the Insubri screamed, Kellerian cauterized the stumps. Next, he knelt on Eolus’ arm and preformed the same brutal surgery. After cutting off Etruscan’s fingers and sealing the nubs, the Armorer stood.
“My condition? That after they learned to survive the arena, they would never properly hold a sword, again” Master Kellerian explained. “In the future, no Legionary will fall from their blades. That, Lance Corporal Sisera was my condition.”
Chapter – 12 Wisdom of the Clay Ear
Thomasious Harricus stood in the doorway and watched as five Legionaries marched into the courtyard of the Chronicles Humanum Inn.
“Take a load off,” Alerio ordered the Legionaries as he broke formation and headed towards the Innkeeper. “Good afternoon, Master Harricus.”
“Lance Corporal Sisera. I assume, I’ll have to feed them?” inquired Thomasious. He was pointing at the infantrymen who were stacking their shields and lifting off their helmets.
“Legionaries are always hungry,” Alerio agreed. “A hot meal would be appreciated.”
“I’d like to have a look at your cook’s pantry,” said Cimon, the squad’s best cook. “Would that be possible?”
“Fine with me. Come inside Alerio and tell me about the Senators’ and Consuls’ reactions to the funeral games,” suggested Thomasious.
“Don’t you want to know who was victorious?” inquired Alerio as he mounted the steps. His pride was hurt as the Innkeeper didn’t seem curious about his part in the games.
“Blood on the sand, the winner of a horse race, or a powerful thespian performance of a play, is only one aspect of any public spectacle. But not the most important,” Thomasious explained as he guided the Legionary down the hallway towards the dining room. “The real contests are the financial and the political maneuvering taking place out of the public’s eye.”
***
There were a few customers in the dining room. Thomasious ushered Alerio to an isolated corner table.
“What maneuvering does a funeral game provide?” inquired Alerio as they sat.
“Senator Spurius Maximus, as the sponsor of your gladiators, gets the bragging rights if they win,” explained Thomasious. “For the next week, he will be the center of attention whi
le extolling the virtue of his fighters. He needs that since his protégé, Marcus Flaccus, is the most honored man of the year. The old General doesn’t like being overshadowed.”
“Then what did it mean when Consul Codex received so much attention from the crowd at the end of the funeral games?” asked Alerio.
“Gamesmanship, pure and simple. He turned defeat into victory,” Thomasious replied. “Without the afterglow of winning, he took advantage of the gathering to sway the citizens to his cause. I imagine Maximus and Flaccus weren’t happy.”
“They walked off during Consul Codex’s speech,” Alerio related. “But why did the city guard come after me? I’m not political.”
“Most likely the work of a Codex solicitor, seeking to give the Consul an advantage,” Thomasious ventured. “It wouldn’t take much coin to convince the city guard, especially as one of their own was training the other three gladiators. Toss in some assurances to the bet takers and no one would worry about holding you in a cell for a few days. Or, putting you in the care of a physician until you healed.”
“A final question, Master Harricus. What advantage did Consul Codex gain by riling up the crowd with talk of war in Sicilia?” asked Alerio. “He’s a Consul. Shouldn’t he be debating that in the Senate?”
“The citizens of our Republic are a powerful force,” explained Thomasious. “Not many Senators want to go against public opinion. If Codex has won over the public, then there will be war in Sicilia. Now, let’s get you something to eat. And you can tell me about the matches.”
Pleased at last to be able to talk about a subject he knew, Alerio described each fight and the fighters. Later that afternoon, Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera marched Seventh squad to the Legion camp and reported to Centurion Seneca. In the morning, he joined a cavalry patrol headed south towards the Southern Legion.
Act 2
Chapter – 13 Port of Ostia
Four Republic Triremes rested on the beach along with Legion patrol boats. Against the piers were six Greek Corbita with five more of the merchant transports lashed to their seaward side. Since the first light of dawn, Legionaries had been passing supplies and equipment up to the boats. A Legion quartermaster strutted along the rails of the rafted together transports.
“Don’t overload that ship with supplies,” he roared. “Leave room for the troops. It won’t do anyone any good to assault Messina with a ship of supplies. Unless grain can crawl out of their sacks and swing a gladius, you want Legionaries on that boat. You over there! The Legionaries need supplies when they land. Take on more!”
He encouraged, directed and scolded as the sun rose. Soon the stacks of supplies on the docks dwindled as they were transferred to the eleven Corbita. Watching the loading were Tribune Gaius Claudius and Consul Appease Codex.
“Take and hold Messina. I’ll be along with the Legion in a few weeks,” Codex ordered. “And Tribune Claudius, don’t fail me. I need Messina as a base of operations.”
“Yes, General. Is it proper to call you General, yet?” asked Gaius.
Appease laughed and shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s not official until the Senate votes tomorrow,” Consul Codex admitted while standing taller and pushing out his chest. “But, witnessing the advance units of my Legion about to depart, I’ll claim the title starting now.”
“Very good General Codex. If you’ll excuse me, I want to speak with our warship Captains,” Tribune Claudius informed the Consul.
“Yes, yes of course. And I must return to the Capital to prop up my supporters,” announced Appease. “Maybe make a few public speeches to remind the Senate of my popularity.”
“By your leave, General?” asked Gaius.
“Dismissed, Tribune.”
Gaius saluted, turned and marched off the docks. While he moved towards the beach, four hundred heavy infantrymen, one hundred sixty Velites, and about fifty support personnel formed lines. The Legionaries at the head of the lines began walking up the ramps to the transports.
***
The four Trireme Captains stood watching the boarding.
“Tribune, good morning,” they said as Gaius approached.
“I want my Senior Centurion on the lead warship. My First Sergeant on the seaward flanking Trireme and me on the other,” instructed the Tribune without acknowledging their salutations. “When do we row out?”
“The transports are slow. We’ll let them get underway before we shove off,” a Captain replied. Then he added, “We’d like infantrymen on our ships. In case…”
“I know. In case we meet any Qart Hadasht warships,” Gaius interrupted the Captain. “How many?”
“Two squads on each Trireme,” answered the Captain. “If…”
But the Tribune had already walked away.
***
“First Centurion, give me eight squads on the beach for the warships,” Tribune Claudius ordered.
“Yes, sir. It’ll slow us down as we’ll need to pull them from the same Century,” commented Senior Centurion Georgius.
“I said eight squads on the beach. I didn’t say hold me up,” Gaius said between clinched teeth. “Eight on the beach from the back of the lines. There. Problem solved.”
“Yes, Tribune,” Georgius replied as he marched to the lines of waiting Legionaries.
“Sir, what do you need?” asked First Sergeant Brictius as the Senior Centurion approached.
“Peel off eight squads from the end of the lines and put them on the beach,” Georgius relayed the order. “And don’t tell me about unit integrity. Just get them out of line and on the beach.”
“Yes, Senior Centurion, right away,” Brictius replied. He spun and began talking as he walked. “Which squads are here from Fourth and Fifth Centuries?”
“Eighth of the Fifth,” a Lance Corporal answered. “Third of the Fourth,” another reported.
“You two, pull your squads out and collect three more from your Centuries,” Brictius ordered. He glanced in the Tribune’s direction and noticed the Staff officer was busy speaking with the Ostia Post commander. The Senior Centurion had his head in a scroll held by the quartermaster. Turning to the squad leaders, he said softly, “Find your line mates and pull them off the boats if necessary. But do it quietly and make it quick.”
“Yes, First Sergeant,” they said before rushing up ramps to locate the squads.
First Sergeant Brictius had spent most of his career in the north. In battles up there, Legionaries lived and died by knowing which squads fought beside them. A Century down to four squads was still a formidable force as long as the pivots recognized the man on the adjacent squad. He wasn’t about to break off squads from different Centuries because a Staff officer was in a hurry. Besides, the Centurions, Sergeants and Corporals would trouble him no end as they searched for their missing Legionaries.
***
With shouting from the Greek Captains and loud responses from their crews, the seaward Corbita untied and pushed off from their sister transports at the pier. Rowing slowly, they cruised headed south in a staggered line. Then the five at the dock shoved off and joined the line.
Once the transports were underway, rowers and infantrymen boarded the Triremes. After being pushed off the beach, the warships stroked until they surrounded the convoy. The Republics first campaign to fight an enemy outside the Italian peninsula had gotten underway.
Chapter – 14 Port Rhégion
A week later, the convoy rowed into the Messina Strait. The Triremes delayed beaching while the first five Corbita tied up at the pier. The final six staggered in, and one by one, they tied up on the Strait side of the docked transports.
The Republic warships rowed hard against the strong tide of the Messina Strait to maintain vigilance.
“Captain, I demand you land and let me get about my business,” Tribune Claudius insisted.
“Tribune. You have seven Centuries of Legionaries in slow moving tubs,” the Captain replied between shouting commands to his first oar. The warship had
been taken too far south by the current. It came about and headed north. “If a Qart Hadasht Trireme decided to sink one, you’d drown a lot of good men. Let the Corbita get lashed together first.”
“You have three other warships,” observed the Tribune. “What difference would one more make. Plus, there isn’t an Empire warship in sight.”
The Legion Captain raised an arm and pointed across the blue and deceptively calm looking waters of the Messina Strait. North of them, portions of low walls, a few clay roof tops and a Citadel high on a hill were observable from the middle of the Strait. Then he indicated the tower on the Rhégion side.
“There are two of them almost within ballista range,” the Captain told the Tribune. “Riding on the tide at the mouth of Messina Harbor. I received the message from the signalman in the tower.”
“That’s two, you have four,” Tribune Claudius explained the math as if talking to a small child. “Put me on the beach and you’ll still have three, against their two! It’s simple. Would you like me to write it down for you?”
“No sir. The reason they didn’t come out of their harbor is, we do have four,” the Captain said. “If we only had two Triremes as escorts, the Republic would be buying sunken Corbita, not leasing them from the Greeks.”
“On what assumptions do you base those insights?” demanded the Tribune.
“Experience, sir. The Qart Hadasht warships are better at handling and rowing,” the Captain admitted. “The Empire has ruled the seas since before my grandfather was born. If we don’t outnumber them, we normally row away. But we can’t row away while guarding Legionaries trapped in slow moving tubs.”
The Tribune stomped away. The only path open to him was down the three-foot-wide center boards running the length of the trireme. Mumbling to himself, he didn’t notice the twenty infantrymen who stepped on rower’s benches to clear the way. His eyes were on the Citadel at Messina.
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