Brutal Diplomacy

by J. Clifton Slater

  “Not that I know of,” the scarred veteran admitted. “Give that to me.”

  He pulled the waxed ends of the package and unfolded the oiled goatskin. The open flap exposed a piece of parchment.

  Chief of Boats, this message is for Tribune Velius. To authenticate, A weapon’s instructor doesn’t need a saltwater soaked rag on his left hand, it’s better for cooling the head.

  Sergeant Martius remember the first day of combat rowing class and Lance Corporal Sisera sitting with the rag on his head rather than soothing the blisters on his left hand. Seems, he already had hard skin on that hand from weapon’s drills. The Sergeant headed for the Headquarters’ building.

  ***

  “But how do we know it’s Sisera and not a trap,” demanded Gaius Claudius. “And suppose he’s held captive and was forced to write the missive?”

  “Then let’s all retreat to the Capital and we’ll let the Senate debate the issue,” suggested Tribune Velius. “Politicians are excellent at talking. Hold on. Something just occurred to me. That’s right, we are the Legion and we are bad at talking. Whatever are we going to do?”

  Gaius Claudius looked confused but the Senior Centurion wasn’t. He twisted his mouth into a sneer.

  “The Tribune is saying, Legionaries act on available information,” Patroclus declared. “Tomorrow night Lance Corporal Sisera and crews from the Sons of Mars will open the barricade vessels. There’s only one question we have to answer. Are we rowing over when he gives the signal?”

  First Sergeants Gerontius and Brictius reached out together and smoothed the map flat. Sisera’s rough drawing showed the tip of the hook, the dock and the warehouses. From the drawing, it appeared he could assure the dock and storage buildings would be cleared of Empire soldiers. Yet, it was only a foothold in Messina.

  “We can hold the areas between the warehouses with eighty infantrymen,” Brictius announced. “Fighting our way from there will be bloody and hard work for the lads.”

  “Straight up the main road to the Citadel?” asked Gerontius.

  “Not a good strategy,” Tribune Velius said jumping into the discussion. “Too many side streets. You’ll have Empire troops coming from the sides and getting in behind your advancing units.”

  Senior Centurion Patroclus placed the heel of his hand along the dock. As he swept it forward covering more of the town, he explained, “You’ll need to take Messina street by street maintaining a unified front. You’ll push the Qart Hadasht back to the Citadel and crush them on the slope.”

  The four men turned to stare at Tribune Gaius Claudius. Ignoring them, he walked to the map. Placing a finger on the lines representing the dock, he stated, “I’ll be on the first boat.”

  First Sergeant Brictius’ mouth fell open but he quickly recovered and put on a blank face.

  “Very admirable, Tribune,” offered the Senior Centurion. “But unless you’re trained to stand in a shield wall, our first units must be infantrymen.”

  “But who will go in on the first wave?” inquired Claudius. “Who will command the infantry?”

  “That’s my job, sir,” Brictius assured him. “I’ll be on the first boat. The Century’s Centurion will be on boat three.”

  “And I’ll be on the second boat,” announced First Sergeant Gerontius.

  “We have lots to do before tomorrow night,” Senior Centurion Patroclus suggested. “I want reports of units from the Southern Legion and equipment we’re sending with Tribune Claudius.”

  “First Sergeant Brictius and I have a lot to accomplish before we launch as well,” Claudius stated with a nod to his First Sergeant.

  Act 4

  Chapter – 24 Armor, Shields and Swords

  Alerio sat in a house a block from the warehouses. Lounging around him were twenty-five Sons’ of Mars and Milon Frigian.

  “And you’re sure the Legionaries will come?” asked Frigian. “Because once we set this in motion, there’s no turning back.”

  “I’m more worried about the first phase,” Alerio commented. The crewmen were leaning in and listening. “We’ve got to move fast and, once in position, hold until the infantry arrives.”

  “We’ll hold,” Frigian assured him. Then looking around the room, he asked, “Won’t we?”

  The response of “Yes, Captain” echoed around the small space.

  Three raps on the door announced a visitor. Before anyone could answer, the door opened and closed quickly.

  “The Sergeant of the Guard has finished his rounds,” the newly arrived sailor reported. “He’s working his way back through the western guard stations.”

  “And the roving patrols?” asked Alerio.

  “They’re moving counter to the Sergeant,” the sailor replied. “If they hold true to the pattern, they’ll reach the base of the Citadel before starting back down. The patrol on the hook is moving towards the point.”

  “Captain Frigian, are you ready for some larceny?” inquired Alerio.

  “Go inform the other houses, we are moving,” Frigian ordered four of his oarsmen. Then to Alerio, he said, “Larceny is my middle name, Lieutenant Sisera.”

  Twenty-one of the oarsmen began winding rope around one hand. The four singled out by Frigian moved to the doorway and left. They were assigned to contacting the houses were the rest of the crew members were staged. Then Alerio and Milon Frigian snuck out followed by the twenty-one rowers.

  One block down and across from the warehouses, Frigian selected pairs of men and sent them across the avenue. Each pair vanished down alleyways and streets between the warehouses. Ten teams had been swallowed up by the dark with no cries of alarm arising from the guards on the dock. With one rower still waiting, Frigian whispered to Alerio.

  “Not too late to withdraw,” Frigian commented.

  “Need a mug of fresh goat’s milk, do you?” inquired Alerio.

  The sailors who had checked on the rest of the crew crowded up behind them.

  “That’s the alleyway. You’re going to the third door on that building,” Frigian whispered indicating a single warehouse. “Go!”

  As the five sailors raced for the street and towards the door, Frigian said, “I guess we’re committed now, Lieutenant Sisera.”

  Alerio didn’t reply. He stepped around the Sons of Mars’ Captain and jogged after the entry team.

  ***

  The door was open by the time Alerio arrived. After stepping over the threshold, he closed the door and one of the oarsmen sparked flint and a candle came to life. Its light brightened a corner of the warehouse. Soon, four more candles bent to the flame and as the wicks blazed, the lit candles moved to locations around the small section of the warehouse.

  Without words, Alerio and the five oarsmen began quietly and slowly untangling armor, shields, helmets, and swords from a pile. As each piece came free, they carried them to an area with equipment in each category. After they had enough to arm twenty-six men, Alerio tapped one of the oarsmen on the shoulder. The rower moved to the doorway and slipped out.

  Those left continued to pull and sort the tools of war. They had enough for another twenty-five when six men eased through the door. Without being instructed, the new men dressed in armor, helmets, and selected shields and swords. All the equipment originated from different cultures and city states. Alerio set aside Legion armor, a helmet, a gladius, and six Legion infantry shields.

  Eight more men entered. They headed for the equipment while the armed ones positioned themselves on either side of the door. Alerio tapped another of the oarsmen on the shoulder and he left to collect his house of crewmen.

  No matter how carefully you handled armor, shields, helmets and swords, there were bound to be dropped swords, shields, and, the worst, helmets. Unlike heavy swords which clunked, helmets rang like a bell. The occasional clang and ring increased when the number of oarsmen dressing in the warehouse reached sixty. To Alerio it sounded similar to a street festival full of vendors and a crowd of rowdy citizens.

  With
his nerves on edge from the noise, Alerio left and headed back across the avenue.

  “It sounds like a choir tuning up,” he whispered to Frigian. “I’m not sure how much longer before we’re discovered.”

  “Lucky for us, the guard near you walked down to speak with another guard,” the Captain informed him. Behind Frigian, more oarsmen huddled against the house’s wall waiting to be sent forward. “But you’re correct. It’s time to make ourselves known.”

  “Give me a count of sixty,” Alerio requested before he ran back to the warehouse.

  By the time Alerio passed through the doorway, Milon Frigian’s count reached nine. Alerio had his shoulder armor buckled when Frigian counted thirty-one, thirty-two. At fifty-one, fifty-two, Alerio’s armored skirt and gladius belt were fashioned. At fifty-nine, Alerio placed the helmet over his head. On the street, Captain Frigian counted sixty and whistled one sharp note.

  Alerio barely heard the note through the thick boards of the warehouse. But he wasn’t the target of the whistle. The ten men hiding in the shadows of the alleyways and streets between the warehouses heard their Captain’s signal loud and clear.

  ***

  A pair of Qart Hadasht soldiers standing and talking on the dock, heard the whistled note. But sailors were constantly communicating by sounds. On a ship under oars, words got lost in the grunts and hard breathing. Due to the frequent use of whistles and yelps by oarsmen, the soldiers ignored Frigian’s note.

  When two naked men staggered from an alleyway and into the pool of a lantern’s light, the guards chuckled. Then they strolled over to the obviously drunk rowers.

  “The dock is closed,” one informed the inebriated men. “Back to town with you!”

  The naked men hesitated, as if confused, before looking up at the guards in surprise. In a reflex of modesty, the rowers dropped their hands to their crotches. Their sudden shyness further amused the guards. They laughed softly looking down.

  Then rope wrapped hands reached around their helmets. Both guards gagged as rope and fingers were jammed into their mouths. As the soldiers began to struggle, the naked men lowered their shoulders and charged the guards.

  Unable to cry out or bring their spears down to defend themselves, the guards were carried off the end of the dock. In helmets, armor and carrying shields and spears, the soldiers plunged into the harbor. Their first instinct was to drop their shields and remove their helmets. Instead of removing their heavy equipment, they found themselves fighting oarsmen who followed them into the depths of the black water. Down they went, struggling to hold their breath while fending off arms that propelled them deeper and deeper. Saltwater burned the insides of their noses and filled their mouths, throats and lungs. Choking as they sank, they thrashed and kicked.

  It wasn’t until the soldiers ceased moving that the four oarsmen released the guards, flipped over and kicked for the surface.

  In the water below the dock, five pairs of swimmers broke the surface. With no guards left, the ten oarsmen took their time climbing the ladders to the rough wooden planks. Then they headed for the warehouse where the Empire had stored the Sons of Mars confiscated weapons and armor.

  ***

  Captain Frigian crossed the warehouse and began dressing in the gaudy armor of a Greek commander.

  “Pretty armor,” commented Alerio as he walked over to Frigian. “What about the guards?”

  “I haven’t heard any of them call out,” replied the Sons of Mars’ Captain. Then to a broad-shouldered rower, Frigian ordered, “First Oar, take forty men back to the house. But don’t fall asleep, I’ll need you soon.”

  “Yes Captain,” replied the lead oarsman of Frigian’s crew.

  “Lieutenant Sisera, off you go,” the Captain instructed. “I’ve sent men to collect another crew. If you can get the Legionaries here before the entire Qart Hadasht garrison falls on us, we might pull this off.”

  “You hold them and try not to get killed,” replied Alerio as he handed the five extra Legion shields to unarmed men. “I’ll see you before sunrise.”

  Chapter – 25 Death on the Hook

  Alerio led thirty armored oarsmen and the five carrying only Legion shields down the dock. At the end, he stepped up on the grass and the rowers followed single file. Past the beach where the Son’s ships and the Qart Hadasht Triremes rested, they marched in line. Once the column neared the banks of the Strait, Alerio assembled them in two ranks with the five toting the shields positioned at the rear.

  “Move fast,” he whispered. “When we locate the patrol don’t yell and don’t hesitate. Plow into them and put them down.”

  “Yes, sir,” a few replied.

  When Alerio stepped in front of the loose formation, one leaned forward and asked, “Wouldn’t you be safer behind us, Lieutenant Sisera?”

  “What? And let the Sons of Mars have all the fun?” replied Alerio. “Forward!”

  On the hook of land, some of the oarsmen moved along the banks of the harbor side, others walked along the flat, dodging between trees and others stumbled over the rocks on the slope leading to the waters of Messina Strait.

  The lines of oarsmen were a third of the way along the hook when they encountered the Qart Hadasht patrol.

  ***

  It took the oarsmen behind him a few heartbeats before they realized the Legionary was moving. Alerio saw the shadowy figure appear in front of him. With a surge, he leaped forward, set his feet and powered the massive Legion shield into the first soldier. Driving with his legs, he shoved the first into the second Qart Hadasht, and the two rolled back into the legs of the third. The three were down and Alerio hacked at anything on the ground while keeping the big shield to his front.

  Realization that they were in contact hit the rest of the soldiers and the oarsmen at the same time. The oarsmen directly behind Alerio charged forward. On their flanks, the rowers on the banks felt the adjacent shields advance upward. Like a whip flexing before the head snapped, the lines of shields bent in a ripple as the flankers climbed to the hook’s banks to keep up with their brethren. By the time the men nearest the waters reached the top, the Sons of Mars had the Qart Hadasht soldiers sandwiched between their shields.

  In a face to face fight or with time to form up, the trained soldiers would have stood a chance. But they were in single file, trapped between shields and slashing swords. Despite their disadvantage, they managed to wound several oarsmen.

  Just as Alerio had done, the oarsmen chopped blindly down at everything laying on the ground. Then when none of those bleeding on the soil put up a fight, oarsmen reached down and ran their blades across all the throats they could locate by feel. Unfortunately, some of those murdered in the dark were Sons of Mars rowers. Friendly casualties were one of the reasons few warriors chose to fight in the dark.

  ***

  Alerio snatched up four Qart Hadasht shields and distributed them to four oarsmen.

  “Follow me,” he whispered.

  The five carefully picked their way down the bank leading to the Strait. At a spot Alerio estimated was below the line of sight from the far off but elevated Citadel, he took the shields and stacked them in the shape of a box.

  “The box faces Rhégion tower,” he explained. “Gather driftwood and build a fire in the box. Move the shield back and forth in front of the flames. That’s the signal to the Legion. Keep the fire alive and the shield moving. All of our lives depend on it.”

  “Until dawn or we’re dead,” a rower vowed. “We’ll continue to signal.”

  Alerio stumbled over rocks as he climbed back to the crest where the remaining oarsmen waited. Once there, he took the lead and they swept the banks of the hook. They encountered no additional soldiers.

  Where the land narrowed and bent like a hook, the tip formed the east side of the mouth of Messina harbor. Across the watery opening, a rocky beach jutted out from the shoreline marking the other side. Between the points of land, five Corbita transports were loosely tied bow to stern, creating a blocka
de.

  A lit candle rose from the deck of one transport. The small flame arched back and forth and Alerio’s gut tightened. Some of the noise from the fight on the hook had reached the Qart Hadasht arches on the transports. The only positive was the signal consisted of a single candle.

  Chapter – 26 Contact on the Dock

  Alerio and his force on the hook weren’t the only ones to see the candle. On the dock, Milon Frigian also saw the waving flame. Plus, one more person witnessed the signal.

  “Get ready, lads,” he said to a line of oarsmen. “It’s about to get interesting.”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing, Captain,” one of his men stated.

  “That depends on the Qart Hadasht’s response. Just prepare to defend the dock,” Frigian advised as he walked away from that group. He repeated the message to a cluster of armed oarsmen standing at an alleyway, “Get ready, lads. It’s about to get interesting.”

  “I believe I could use a mug of fresh goat’s milk, right about now” one rower exclaimed.

  “If we had any, I’d join you in a mug,” Frigian replied. “But we don’t, so we’ll make do with the blood of Empire soldiers. Prepare to defend the dock.”

  While Captain Frigian moved down the dock giving the same warning to his men at the alleyways and streets cutting between the warehouses, the third witness to the signal flame reacted.

  ***

  From the second floor of the citadel, the duty guard stepped away from the portal. In the back of the room, he shook his Sergeant awake.

  “Signal flame from the blockade,” he whispered.

  “Only one?” asked the NCO.

  “One candle waving,” the guard replied. “Want me to go down and tell the duty officer?”

  “I’ll go. Get back to your post,” the Sergeant ordered as he tossed back the blanket and swung his legs out of bed. “Shout out if they add more flames.”