Runners raced up to the man, talked and listened for a moment before rushing off down the streets. During the exchanges, the man never took his eyes off of Claudius.
Assuming the man was Admiral Hanno, the commander of the Qart Hadasht forces, Tribune Gaius Claudius brought his heals together and gave his opponent a crossed chest salute. He held the fist against his breast plate waiting for an acknowledgement.
Hanno, although Claudius couldn’t make out the details, sneered and bared his teeth. What Tribune Gaius Claudius did see clearly was the Admiral spitting in his direction before marching out of view.
Gaius Claudius dropped his fist and rested it on the pommel of his gladius. Now, he neither wanted to pace, yell or throw something. What he desperately wanted was to run down the stairs, draw his gladius and kill the arrogant Admiral. But he didn’t.
The Tribune returned to scanning the town searching for ways to gain an advantage. Revenge would come later, once he commanded Messina.
***
“Draw,” shouted First Sergeant Brictius as the first rank of Qart Hadasht soldiers sprinted forward. “Brace! Brace!”
The front rank pulled their gladii and crouched down behind their shields. Behind them, thirty-four Legionaries bent their knees, leaned forward slightly, pushed their shields into the backs of the men in front of them and tightened their shield arms. When the soldiers collided with the Legion shields, they bounced off the inflexible wall.
The second and third ranks ran forward expecting to charge through holes made by their first rank. Confusion set in when the rank bounced back. The soldiers suddenly idled for a heartbeat.
“Advance, step back,” ordered First Sergeant Brictius taking advantage of the situation.
The front twelve Legionaries lunged with their shields, plunged their blades into flesh and dropped back into the formation. It happened so quickly, the Lieutenants standing beside their soldiers didn’t understand why men fell to the ground.
Hesitation in combat kills - delayed response from their junior officers, from the survivors of the first three ranks, and from the overall Qart Hadasht Company commander proved it. Failure to adjust allowed First Sergeant Brictius a second opportunity.
“Advance, step back,” he ordered.
Again, twelve shields shoved forward shocking those contacted. Before they recovered from the impact of the big shields, gladii blades thrust forward and more of them died.
“Second rank rotate forward,” First Sergeant Brictius ordered.
All the Legionaries in the unit unfolded their left arms placing their shields perpendicular to their bodies. The first rank stepped back between the spaces and continued until they were in the rear of the formation. Almost as quickly as the shields opened to allow passage, they were pulled back across chests. Now Legionaries with fresh arms and legs manned the front rank.
Commands rippled down the Empire Company formation and the soldiers shuffled nervously. First Sergeant Brictius recognized the symptoms of men asked to perform a dangerous task. He decided to give them something to add to their misery.
“Stand by Javelins,” he shouted. “Launch two!”
At close range to the opposing forces, the javelins flashed from hands to bodies in a heartbeat. Two launches and there were holes in the Company where wounded and dead fell out of formation. This got the Qart Hadasht commander’s attention and he passed down orders. Suddenly, the entire company ran at the Legionaries.
“Brace, brace!” shouted First Sergeant Brictius just before a tide of soldiers washed over the Legionaries.
At first Brictius couldn’t see anything but the faces, helmets, and armored shoulders of Empire soldiers crawling on his Legionaries’ shields.
“Push!” he yelled, to be heard over the grunts and cries of men struggling against enemies, their own sense of survival, and the mass of bodies pressed together. “Push!”
And Qart Hadasht soldiers rose into the air on rising shields. The higher the shields the more soldiers slid off and the straighter the Legionaries stood. One tilted back and a soldier tumbled behind the ranks.
A private stepped up and drove his blade between the man’s ribs.
“Advance, step back,” ordered First Sergeant Brictius.
The shields shoved the leading edge of the Empire soldiers back and the gladii thrust helped to maintain the gap for a moment.
“Second rank rotate forward,” Brictius ordered and, like sideways window slats, the shields opened and the front rank came off the line.
But only nine of the twelve made it to the rear. Three were down under the feet of fighting and scuffling Legionaries and soldiers.
The battle for the street became a blur of slashes, hacks and jabs. Legionnaires and soldiers injured and killed each other. And First Sergeant Brictius was forced to feed his reserve squads into the meat grinder as the number of wounded and dead piled up behind the lines.
Even in the chaos of belly to belly fighting, the well-trained Legionaries responded to the call of rotating off the front line. While the Legion valued the ability to put fresh arms and legs into a fight, the Qart Hadasht military hadn’t learned that lesson.
When the Empire Company commander passed word to withdraw the remaining exhausted soldiers, First Sergeant Brictius had just rotated his ranks. As the Qart Hadasht attempted to retreat, the Legionaries received a different set of orders.
“Advance, advance,” instructed Brictius.
The shields shot out downing soldiers who were stomped as the unit attacked. Gladii stabbed the stumbling and disoriented soldiers as they ran. And still the Legionaries continued their assault.
“Corporal, on me,” Brictius called out.
“Yes, First Sergeant,” the Century’s NCO asked. He was covered in blood with bags under his eyes from rotating to the front and fighting. He also sported a number of cuts and bruises.
“Get to First Sergeant Gerontius’ position,” Brictius instructed. “Tell him, we’re taking five more blocks than setting up a barricade. Let me know if he’s able to keep up.”
“On it, First Sergeant,” the Corporal replied before jogging away on rubbery legs.
***
Tribune Claudius watched as the Qart Hadasht soldiers ran in panic from Legionaries in perfect formation chasing them down.
“Signalman. All units to move up four, no wait, five blocks,” the Tribune ordered.
As the flags waved, a weight lifted from Claudius’ chest. With the harbor, warehouse district and half of Messina in Legion hands, he was close to victory. And completing his mission of supplying General Codex a safe harbor on Sicilia for the Legion. The one remaining task, remove Admiral Hanno from the town.
***
Admiral Hanno strutted up the hill to the Citadel. While he had lost a battle, he was confident he’d win the war. One simply did not become an Admiral of the Empire and not believe in the destiny of the world’s largest trading empire and naval power. No country could stand against Qart Hadasht. If need be, he’d starve them out. With a last glare at Temple hill, he marched into the Citadel.
Chapter – 32 War of Words
Tribune Claudius frowned as he wrote casualty reports from the day’s actions. Too many men injured and far too many Legionaries died. A knock on the tent pole pulled him from the reports.
“Tribune. There is a Qart Hadasht messenger here to see you,” a Legion Sergeant announced.
“Bring him,” Claudius stated as he placed his quill in a holder.
A man wearing a white tunic with a thin belt was escorted across the command tent to the Tribune’s work area. He clutched a scroll in his left hand. As he approached, the messenger extended his left arm. The Sergeant slapped it down.
“That’s close enough,” the NCO warned as he placed a hand on the man’s chest. “I’ll take the scroll.”
The Sergeant examined the wooden end caps, sniffed it and partially unrolled it. Once satisfied the document holder was safe, he handed it to Claudius.
“Thank you,” the Tribune acknowledged as he took the scroll.
After unrolling it, he began reading.
Tribune Gaius Claudius,
I greet you only out of necessity. You are an invader in Messina and have upset the balance of power in Sicilia. You and your killers will leave at dawn. Although distasteful to me, my monogamous gesture of safe passage to Rhégion holds until the sun rests on high.
Should your arrogance exceed your senses, the outlaws who follow you will be put to the sword. You will suffer a cut for every soldier who died defending the town. After the blood sacrifice, your body will be crucified as a cautionary tale for the Sons of Mars, the upstart Republic, and any who defy the undying Empire.
Admiral Hanno of the Qart Hadasht Empire
“Sergeant take the messenger outside and hold him until I craft a response,” Claudius ordered. “And find me Senior Centurion Valerian.”
“Yes, sir,” the NCO said as he guided the messenger out of the tent.
“What to say to you Admiral?” Claudius whispered while rereading the message.
***
The messenger ran up Citadel hill and didn’t break stride until he stood in front of the duty officer.
“Sir, a message from the Legion commander for the Admiral,” he reported.
“Come with me,” ordered the officer. He guided the messenger to a closed door, knocked, and opened it. “Admiral. The messenger has returned with a reply.”
“Send him in and find me sub-commander Barca,” Hanno instructed.
The officer opened the door and the messenger bowed and scurried to the desk.
The Admiral held out a big hand for the scroll. Once in his hand, he broke the seal, unrolled the parchment and studied the words.
“I’ll have a reply. Wait outside,” instructed the Admiral.
“Tonight, sir?” the messenger asked.
Under the glare of Hanno’s stare, the messenger nodded and backed out of the office. When the offending little man was gone, the Admiral reread Claudius’ reply.
To the Honorable Admiral Hanno,
Greetings my worthy opponent. I write this with no malice or qualms. Messina is under the protection of the Republic. History tells the tale of the Sons of Mars connection to the Republic and, as such, they are under the protection of the Republic. And lest I remind you, not for embarrassment’s sake, but to refresh your memory. My Legionaries freely patrol the harbor, the warehouse district, the Temple of Adiona, and half of Messina.
The Empire for all its vast holdings elsewhere, tenuously occupy the Citadel, the upper half of Messina and the southern wall. In balance, I suggest you accept my offer of safe passage to your two Triremes beached in the Republic’s harbor.
Take them and go where you will, as long as you vacate Messina in its entirety.
Gaius Claudius, Tribune of Codex Legion, Representative of Consul Appease Clodus Codex, Consul Marcus Fulvius Flaccus, the Senate of the Republic, and Citizen of the Republic
***
“Halt,” a Legion sentry ordered. “Who goes there?”
The messenger stepped forward into the flickering light of the campfire.
“I carry a missive from Admiral Hanno to Tribune Claudius,” the man stated. Visibly nervous, his hands shook as he held them out showing they were empty of weapons. Clutched in his left hand was a rolled and sealed piece of parchment.
“Sergeant. We have a courier,” the sentry called out.
Long moments passed before an NCO and two Legionaries, all three helmetless and without shields, materialized from the dark.
“Why are you so far south?” inquired the Century’s Sergeant. “Temple hill is way north of here.”
“I got lost,” the messenger stammered. “This is where they, ah, I found myself crossing the Empire’s barricade.”
The Sergeant lifted his head and peered up the street. One block away, a Qart Hadasht campfire burning at that intersection marked the barrier.
“Take him to the Centurion. Let the officer find an escort to take him to the Tribune,” the Sergeant advised. Then he yawned, reared back, arms extended and mouth open wide to fully vocalize the action before telling the Legionary, “Off you go. And hurry back to your sentry duties.”
The sentry ushered the messenger away from the fire and they vanished in the dark. Pausing to warm their hands around the fire, the NCO and two Legionaries stood wordlessly before they too walked out of the light.
“Go to our other positions and get four unarmored men for a little night reconnaissance,” whispered the Sergeant. “Have them quietly check the walls. There has to be a reason they sent the courier this far south. I want whoever is watching us.”
On the walls of the compounds bordering the street, two Qart Hadasht scouts watched the lackluster Sergeant. On opposite sides of the street, each had scurried over compound walls and crossed four courtyards just before sundown. When darkness fell, they climbed onto the tops of the last walls and used overhanging branches as cover. Both smiled when they observed the Legionaries’ relaxed response to the arrival of the courier.
The evening passed and the scouts couldn’t believe no one had come to guard the street. What Admiral Hanno said about the dirt farmers being undisciplined and lazy must be true.
A light breeze off the harbor blew up the street ruffling the trees branches. Using the sounds of moving leaves and scraping branches as cover, two Legionaries sprinted forward five paces. Then they both jumped, one grabbing an arm, the other a leg and they pulled the scout off his perch. On the other side of the intersection, that scout also slammed hard into the ground. Both were stunned as the Legionaries dragged them away.
***
“Tribune. A courier from the Qart Hadasht,” the duty NCO announced.
“Come,” Claudius said as he got off a camp bed and moved to his desk.
Again, the NCO prevented the messenger from getting to close to the Tribune and again, the Sergeant examined the parchment before handing it over.
“Why do you do that, Sergeant?” asked Claudius. “I’ve served with Legions for over five years and have personally taken hundreds of messages from couriers. Why the caution here?”
“Combat zone, sir,” replied the NCO. “First Sergeant Brictius gives a talk to every Legionary assigned to you and the command post. Tribune Claudius is to be protected at all times and at all cost. We are engaged with a ruthless Empire who will do anything, employ any method to harm the Tribune. If Tribune Claudius is stabbed or falls ill, the men guarding him will be executed. We face a cunning enemy and our shield against them is the wit of our Tribune. This Legionaries, and don’t forget it, is a combat zone.”
“I had no idea First Sergeant Brictius was so eloquent,” commented Claudius.
The Sergeant squinted and his mouth twisted to the side as if pondering a difficult question. Finally, his face brightened and he explained, “No, sir. The First Sergeant is really serious about it.”
“Dismissed, Sergeant,” ordered Claudius as he unrolled the parchment.
Tribune Gaius Claudius,
Mortem Tuam Eminet
Globus Tuus Mortuus es
Admiral Hanno of the Qart Hadasht Empire
Senior Centurion Valerian marched into the tent and crossed to stand in front of the desk.
“Another message from the Admiral?” he inquired as his fist dropped from the salute. “Anything interesting, sir?”
“It seems, I am dead as well as my followers,” replied Claudius. “I don’t feel dead. How about you Senior Centurion?”
“Sir, I am pleased to report that I am alive. As are the Legionaries standing posts tonight,” Valerian responded. “But in light of the Admiral’s premature announcement, I’m ordering fifty percent watch tonight.”
“An excellent idea,” Claudius exclaimed. “I want to walk the lines tonight and reassure the men. Assign whatever guard detail you think I’ll need.”
“Let me consult with First Sergeant Brictius,” V
alerian said quickly. “He’ll want to know because this is…”
“A combat zone,” Tribune Claudius interrupted with a wave of his hand dismissing the Centurion. “Find the First Sergeant and let me know.”
Chapter – 33 Night Terror
Before sunset, sub-commander Barca strolled to his defensive positions beyond the southern wall. Usually he moved alone among his soldiers talking to them and building them up. With four phalanxes of Hoplites, even more Syracusan soldiers and horsemen cavalry units camped across the River Longanus, he needed his Companies sharp and their attention focused on the enemy. This afternoon however, he walked between positions with two bodyguards.
Earlier today, the sub-commander assigned a Lieutenant he trusted with the diversion at the east end of the wall. Without realizing the young, nobleman‘s head was full of wine and his brain still addled from the night before, he gave the orders and sent the Company off to draw the attention of the invaders.
Barca waited at the city gate with another Company. With one eye on the Syracusans, who stirred at the movement of the Empire forces, he watched with the other for Admiral Hanno’s signal. While the sub-commander waited for a signal that never came, the Lieutenant directed the ill-fated diversion.
***
“Ladders to the wall,” slurred Lieutenant Maharbaal pointing at the wall. “Do it slow. The sub-commander wants the invaders to see the tops of the ladders and pull units from the north side to defend the wall.”
As ten men rushed by to place the ladders, Maharbaal stumbled out of their way. Swinging his arms around as if to fend off an attack, he tripped and had to quick step to regain his balance.
“Sir. Let me handle the attack,” suggested a Sergeant.
“Remember your place, Sergeant,” scolded the Lieutenant as he lifted his hand as if to strike the NCO. “The sub-commander chose me to command the task. And by the gods, I’ll complete the mission.”
Brutal Diplomacy Page 15