The last Corbita rowed in and tossed out lines. Crewmen on the other transport caught and pulled the lines. When the two ships were rail to rail, the sailors tied the ships together. Legionaries climbed over the rails and, with relief, made their way from ship to ship until they stood on solid ground.
As the Legionaries crawled over and across the transports, the four Republic warships rowed to shore. Tribune Georgius stood at the bow shuffling his boots impatiently and glaring down at the pebbles and sand of Rhégion beach.
“Tribune, please move back to midship, sir,” requested a sailor.
“Do you know who I am?” Gaius asked as if everyone on the warship hadn’t spent a week with him.
“Yes sir, I do. But you’re standing on the ramp,” the rower explained. “We can’t lift it and lower it until you move back, sir.”
Chapter – 15 Southern Legion Planning and Stratagies
The old man knelt, knees deep in freshly excavated soil. A root ball clutched in one hand as he patted a flat place in the bottom of the hole. Carefully, he sat the roots on the flat place and began scooping and lightly packing soil around the stem of the plant.
“Tribune. You have a visitor,” Southern Legion’s First Sergeant called from the doorway.
“Just a few moments, Sergeant Gerontius,” Velius replied with his head bent forward.
“I want to speak with Tribune Velius,” Gaius Claudius announced as he brushed by the First Sergeant. Out back of the Southern Legion’s command building he saw only a gardener on his knees digging in one of the mismatched squares of plants. Overhead a variety of vines crept around on trellises. “I demand to speak with Tribune Velius. Where in Hades is he?”
“It’s not Hades. It’s the Southern Legion. Of course, we have adherents of Tellus across the Strait,” the old man mumbled as he tamped down the soil around the stem. “At least they should be as often as they want to bury people in the Goddess’ earth. Or send them down to Neptune’s realm.”
“Nobody asked you old man,” sneered Gaius. “Keep your opinions to yourself. Now where is the Tribune?”
“You insist on asking questions and not listening to the answers,” the old gardener commented as he pushed back to a kneeling position.
Gaius lifted a foot as if to stomp on the newly planted stem.
“I wouldn’t do that, Tribune,” warned Gerontius.
“You dare to threaten a staff officer, Sergeant?” Gaius shot back. “I’ll have you whipped at the punishment post.”
“Look down, sir,” suggested the First Sergeant.
Gaius glanced down to where his foot would have landed. The gardener held up a trident styled gardening tool. Each prong was needle sharp and pointed at the Tribune’s hovering foot.
“It’s the southern soil, you see,” the gardener explained as he pushed on his knees to stand. “Rocks and clumps of hard clay. Terrible for the plants.”
The old man walked to the doorway and dropped the tool into a bucket beside the entrance.
“First Sergeant. Bring our guest in,” the gardener said as he disappeared through the doorway.
“Yes, Tribune Velius,” Gerontius replied before turning to Gaius. “Sir, you’ll find the Tribune in his office.”
Gaius Claudius stomped through the door and didn’t see First Sergeant Gerontius’ salute.
“I’m here to clear the Qart Hadasht out of Messina,” announced Gaius Claudius. He paused by the large table occupying the center of the room. “I don’t have time for games.”
“What do you have time for?” inquired Velius.
“What? Look here Velius, I’m marching my Centuries into Messina tomorrow morning,” Gaius exclaimed. “Any information would be appreciated.”
First Sergeant Gerontius crossed the room. He almost reached the interior door when the old Tribune called to him.
“First Sergeant. Would you locate my favorite spy and have him report here immediately?” instructed Velius. “I don’t require parade ground spiffy, just his body here as soon as possible.”
“You might…,” began the First Sergeant. But Velius shook his head, no. “Right away, Tribune,” Gerontius promised as he vanished through the doorway and down the hall.
“Let me show you a few things,” Velius offered as he rolled the cover off the map table.
“Good map,” exclaimed Gaius Claudius. The Tribune walked around it before placing a finger on the harbor of Messina. “We’ll row into the harbor, secure the port. Then attack up the main road and take the Citadel. What kind of opposition, am I facing?”
“Excellent, a definitive question. I have hopes for you yet,” Velius mumbled under his breath. Then in his speaking voice replied, “Three hundred infantry, four hundred irregulars and seven hundred rowers depending on how many Empire warships are in port.”
“I brought four hundred heavy infantrymen and one hundred sixty Velites,” boasted Claudius. “It should be more than enough to oust the Empire’s mercenaries.”
“Have you ever taken the field against Qart Hadasht forces?” inquired Velius.
“Not them specifically. But in the eastern region, I was on the General’s staff and we planned counterattacks against the rebels,” Claudius stated. “Close up in a defined area like Messina, it’ll be easier to bring them to the fight. Much better than chasing evasive rebel forces.”
Tribune Velius turned his head away and rolled his eyes. In his years with the Legion, he’d met a number of staff officers who assumed field commands. Some listened, learned and became fine commanders. Others got stuck in the glory of working on a General’s staff. They believed their experience in the rear with maps and symbols, representing Legion and enemy forces, gave them battlefield expertise.
Before Velius could begin questioning and picking apart Gaius Claudius’ plan, there was a rapping at the backdoor.
“Sir, Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera, reporting as ordered,” a Legionary, covered with pitch and bits of fiber, stood on the threshold.
“Come in Lance Corporal,” Velius invited. “They have you caulking patrol boats, do they?”
“Yes sir,” Alerio answered as he saluted the two Tribunes.
“Hold on! I recognize you,” Claudius said with a sneer. “You’re the weapon’s instructor who trained the barbarians. And strutted around the arena like a prized cock. What is he doing here?”
“Lance Corporal Sisera is my expert on the Sons of Mars and the Empire troops in Messina,” explained Velius. “He has…”
“I don’t care what he has, or hasn’t,” growled Claudius. “I’ll not take advice from a barbarian lover.”
Alerio bristled at the comment but held his tongue. Arguing with a staff officer would only get him a session on the discipline post. Thankfully, Tribune Velius came to his defense.
“Tribune Claudius. I am attempting to aid you in your attack on Messina,” Velius explained in a soft voice. Both Alerio and Gaius Claudius had to lean towards the old spy master to hear his words. “Lance Corporal Sisera has met Admiral Hanno. Plus, has he contacts in the Sons of Mars. Maybe we can use his knowledge.”
“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 hav
e 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 Codex 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 Codex had formulated was solid. Hit Messina quickly 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 boats 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 poured 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 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 form 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 L
egion 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 more grand. 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.
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