“Spread them out in the second rank, even if they are currently in the front,” ordered Alerio. “Let’s take advantage of their power and have them pound the shields and keep the soldiers back. Maybe it’ll make up for the undertraining of our infantry and irregulars. It may be our only advantage.”
***
The first two phalanxes were broken by logs placed across the road. But the logs were gone, toted away by Syracusans soldiers as they retreated to regroup. Now the road lay open and the third phalanx began to outpace the soldiers protecting the formation’s flanks.
“Close it off,” shouted Alerio while making a chopping motion with his hand.
The surviving Sergeant on his side as well as Frigian and the NCO on the other peeled back the infantrymen from where the phalanx would breach their line. Then the pole men shifted towards the opening and pounded the Syracusan solders backwards.
With the concentration of pounding poles, the soldiers rushing forward to protect the flanks of the phalanx found themselves flying back into their second rank. Soldiers attempting to untangle were clubbed with the blunt end of a shaft from over the infantrymen’s shoulders.
The end of the phalanx moved through the Sons line. Instead of their soldiers following the formation through the line, the pole men and the Sons’ infantry closed the hole. Realizing they were cut off, the Hoplites, like ants from an ant hill, poured from their formation. Irregulars and infantrymen swarmed in and it became vicious individual combat.
Now, there were two distinct battles. The surrounded Hoplites in the center of the Sons formation and the fight along the shield wall.
Two Hoplites battered aside irregulars and ran at Alerio. Their aim was to kill the Son’s commander. With the big Greek shields and swords bearing down on him, Alerio drew his sword and cursed his lack of a shield. He’d been too busy directing the flow of the battle to think about his own defense. Suddenly, it became paramount to his survival.
He shuffled to the side trying to isolate one of the Greeks and keep the other away for a few heartbeats. But the Hoplites knew their business. Together they pivoted staying one shield forward and the other beside the lead but a half step behind.
Alerio circled and the Hoplites shifted, maintaining the two-man attack formation. All around them, Syracusan soldiers and Sons’ oarsmen and infantrymen sliced and hacked at each other. From what Alerio could tell, the Hoplites in the center were dropping Sons three to one. Along the shield wall the odds were more even.
With a yell, Alerio sprang forward then spun, his sword whipping around towards the Hoplite. It connected with the shield as the Greek shifted and blocked the backhanded slash. Ducking, Alerio let the other Hoplite’s blade pass over his head. But the Greeks stepped forward, quickly pressing their advantage. Needing to put space between him and the Hoplites, Alerio dove backwards preparing to do a neck roll and come up on his feet.
Alerio’s helmet smashed into a shield and he flopped to the ground. Looking up, he saw a big shield lift and a foot raised to stomp down on his head.
“Not him!” shouted a familiar voice that Alerio couldn’t place. “Kill the cūlus Hoplites.”
The shield and hobnailed boots passed over Alerio. Then the face of a bent over Legionary peered down at him.
“Well Lance Corporal Sisera, are you going to lay there all afternoon looking up my skirt?” First Sergeant Gerontius inquired.
“No First Sergeant,” Alerio replied as he rolled over and gathered his arms under him.
Pushing off the ground, Alerio stood and glanced over the First Sergeant’s shoulder. Through the town gate jogged Legionaries. By threes they burst between the posts and formed a moving line. The Legion ranks grew wider as more heavy infantrymen joined.
“Where did you come from?” asked Alerio.
“I brought a squad and came looking for you,” explained the First Sergeant. “I was going to ask where you needed us. But I’ll just assume you need us everywhere.”
The rank of Legionaries reached to where the Hoplites and Sons of Mars fought. From three to one, the odds shifted and the Legion heavy infantry nudged the Sons aside and cut into the remaining Greeks. Once the center fight dissolved into a few isolated duels, they marched towards the shield wall.
The pole men found themselves yanked back and then the irregulars and the Sons’ infantry at the wall were shoved aside and flung back. None of the deposed fighters complained about the rough treatment.
After taking their place on the line, the Legionaries locked shields. Then from the rear, a Centurion shouted, “Stand by to advance.” All down the line echoed a repeat of the order from Sergeants, Corporals, squad leaders and pivots. “Advance, advance, advance.” In three heartbeats, the Legion line thrust their shields forward and followed up with a stab of their gladii.
Syracusan soldiers and Hoplites went from fighting an outclassed band of half trained pirates to facing a professional fighting force. As the troops from Syracuse fell back in the face of the advances, Captain Frigian and Captain Creon staggered up.
“We held them again, Captain Sisera,” an exhausted Frigian stated.
“What took the Legion so long to get here?” asked Creon. Everyone could tell he wanted to be angry. But from the slump of his shoulders, they could tell he was too spent to press the issue.
“The Qart Hadasht soldiers stopped for a meal,” First Sergeant Gerontius answered. “We’re here now and Tribune Claudius wants to meet with you on Temple hill. After you see to your wounded and dead.”
The First Sergeant scanned the section of the battlefield exposed as the Legion line moved forward. He couldn’t tell the wounded from the exhausted except for the cries of pain from the injured. Both categories had the same bent and fatigued postures.
***
“The Syracusans had the opportunity to attack when Qart Hadasht command pulled squads from the defensive positions,” Creon pondered. “But they didn’t.”
“Then this afternoon, they launched three assaults,” Alerio added. “I don’t understand, sir.”
Alerio, Milon Frigian and Ferox Creon sprawled in camp chairs with drooping eyes and mugs of wine resting on their thighs. None had the energy to hold the mugs up except for quick sips. Then the mugs returned to rest on their thighs.
“There must be a reason for the aggressive tactic,” commented Tribune Claudius. “From a strategic stand point it made sense to test the Sons. After the rotation from Qart Hadasht soldiers to the Sons of Mars, I would have ordered one or two to test your defenses. However, as Lance Corporal Sisera put it, I don’t understand why they pressed for the third.”
“Maybe they didn’t know about the Legionaries in Messina,” ventured Frigian.
“Unlikely. There are enough spies and farmers traveling to and from town to warn them,” Claudius pointed out. “Something was driving the Syracuse commander. And it wasn’t to draw out the Legionaries.”
A hush fell over the men in the command tent. It was deep in the night and they’d all had a busy day. Finally, Creon broke the silence.
“I assume Tribune, you didn’t summon us to Temple hill to discuss the motivation of the Syracusan commander,” offered the Sons’ Captain.
“We need to show a strong Legion presence at the south wall and in town,” Claudius explained. “To do that, we’ll be thin at the docks.”
“You need the Sons to guard the harbor for you?” guessed Creon. “Seeing as the only two forces likely to row in are angry Qart Hadasht soldiers and equally rabid Syracusan soldiers. I believe it’s in our best interest to assist you.”
“Thank you, Captain Creon. I’ll give you a day or so to rest and organize your troops,” Claudius exclaimed. “Once the Sons have the harbor secured, I’ll move my command post to Citadel hill. It’ll give me a better vantage point to observe the Syracusan forces and to watch over the harbor.”
“Good night, Tribune,” Creon said as he, Alerio, and Frigian stood to go.
“Lance Corporal Sisera
, a moment of your time, please,” ordered Claudius.
While the two Sons’ Captains pushed aside the tent flap and left, Alerio waited. Long after the crunch of the Captains’ sandals on the gravel faded, the Tribune called out.
“Sergeant. Are they gone?” he asked.
His personal guard stuck his head through the flap.
“They’re on the steps and headed down, sir,” the NCO reported.
“Thank you. Sisera we can speak freely,” Claudius announced with a smile. “First, Captain Sisera, you did an admirable job commanding the defense of the south wall. I expect you’ll be an excellent Centurion someday.”
“Thank you, sir,” Alerio acknowledged the compliment. And although exhausted, he brightened up at the Tribunes praise.
“Now about the Sons. I don’t trust the Sons of Mars. I need you to remain with them and be my eyes and ears.”
“Yes, sir. Are you expecting trouble from the Sons?” inquired Alerio.
“Not in the sense that they’ll attack us,” Claudius explained. “It’s just, they aren’t disciplined. Messina harbor is key to General Codex and the Legion landing. If you think the Sons are failing or lacking in vigilance, I need to know. If required, I’ll shift additional Legionaries to protect the harbor.”
“I can do that, sir,” promised Alerio. “Is there anything else?”
“No, Lance Corporal, dismissed,” Claudius said releasing the tired Legionary.
Chapter – 40 The King Arrives
The old boar snorted, dug a rut in the soil with his tusks but didn’t charge. Instead he remained in the tangled underbrush.
“Think the old pig will ever come out?” Frigian asked holding a spear at waist level with the iron head pointing at the barely visible animal.
“Maybe if you ask him nicely,” a crewman suggested. He also held a spear aimed at the boar.
“I don’t think please come out so I can kill you is anybody’s definition of nice,” Alerio added. The Legionary grasped two javelins, one in each hand, poised at shoulder height.
“Left or right, Captain Sisera? You can’t do anything with a throw by the weaker arm,” commented another of Frigian’s oarsmen.
To the crewmen, Sisera looked ridiculous holding two javelins. None of them knew he was ambidextrous and lethal with either arm.
***
After two days of rounding up pirates for guard rotations and exchanging Officer of the Guard duties at the dock, Frigian had recommended a pig hunt.
“Something to get your blood boiling,” the pirate had promised. “And unlike the Syracusan troops who may kill you, the boars, while dangerous, are good eating.”
As Tribune Claudius’ staff packed his gear and carried it down Temple hill to a cart, Alerio, Frigian and six members of his crew set out from the warehouse district. Carrying spears, javelins, poles and hemp rope, they crossed Messina, circled around Citadel hill, and left the town through the small west gate. High in the foothills, they crossed a trail made by a sounder of swine.
Two of the oarsmen spotted a sow in the brush. Quick thrust with their spears and tense moments while they crawled in to drag out the boar, gave the hunting party their first wild pig.
“Not a bad size,” exclaimed Frigian. “But we’ll need a lot more meat if we want to return with any bragging rights.”
That’s when loud snorting, the snapping of branches and popping of roots came from deep in the thicket.
“That might be more meat than we can handle,” commented an oarsman as a huge shadowy shape appeared in the thick brush.
***
“Left or right, Captain Sisera? You can’t do anything with a throw by the weaker arm.”
“Don’t worry about Sisera’s aim,” urged Frigian with a hint of fear in his voice. “Keep your spears ready.”
“I have two thoughts,” another rower added. “One is I hope he doesn’t come out. The other is if he does, I hope seven spears are enough to bring him down.”
“If you wanted fresh goat’s milk, you should have stayed in Messina,” another replied.
“I’m here. I’m holding this perfututum spear,” shot back the rower. “So, you can…”
“Enough! Keep your minds on the task at hand,” warned Frigian. “This is what separates men from little lads. The hunt, the bragging and the eating. Or the stripping of flesh from your bones by sharp tusks.”
“What is he waiting for?” inquired Alerio.
“The wise old boar is waiting us out,” ventured Frigian. “See how he’s settled. If we turn, he’ll run and soon be lost in the hills.”
“Then let’s bring him out,” suggested Alerio.
“How? You going to sneak in there and wrestle an animal ten times your size?” questioned an oarsman.
“No, I thought I’d nudge him with a javelin,” Alerio informed the hunting party.
“Go right ahead,” a rower said. “I’ll stay right here behind this spear.”
Alerio drew back his left arm and powered it forward as he released the javelin. The shaft crossed to the undergrowth, threaded between the thick bushes, creased the boney head of the boar before burying the iron head in the wild pig’s back.
The great animal squealed an ear shattering wail and shredded the brush as he charged. Fully embedded, Alerio’s first javelin flopped back causing the iron tip to rip the creature’s lung. Mad with pain and furious with the two-legged animals invading his territory, the boar thundered across the clearing.
The second javelin struck at a steeper angle and the iron tip pierced deeper. The massive boar staggered but remained on his feet streaking forward. Seven spears sank in and still the giant wild pig came at the men.
Frigian and his rowers leaped out of the way of the charging boar. All seven men hit, rolled and came quickly to their feet. With knives in hand, they faced towards the boar. Then it stumbled, righted itself and stopped. With a last shake of the broad snout and sharp tusks, the wild pig fell to the ground.
“I pronounce the hunt a success and over,” Frigian announced between shallow breaths. Like all the men, he was shaking from the close encounter with the fierce and muscular animal. “Lash him and the little one to poles and let’s head back.”
“Whose pig are you calling little?” challenged one of the oarsmen who had brought down the sow.
Frigian strolled to the sow and spread his arms to the length of the wild pig. While still holding his arms out, he moved to the boar. Laying his hands against the wide side of the huge boar, he displayed the size difference. Without a word, he turned his head and smiled.
“She’s still a nice kill,” protested the oarsmen.
“I never said she wasn’t,” Frigian replied. “Lift them and let’s get back. We have a pig roast to prepare.”
Two oarsmen balanced a pole on their shoulders with the sow dangling between them. The boar required two men on each end to lift the pole to their shoulders. Frigian and Alerio took the lead and the happy hunting party started down the hill to the first ravine. As the porters of the wild pigs slowed to navigate the gully, Frigian stopped to direct the crossing. Alerio surged ahead climbing the slope.
As he approached the top, the whinny and neigh of horses reached him. Raising up, he peaked over the crest. Below, four Qart Hadasht cavalrymen moved slowly, letting their mounts pick their way through the foothills. If they weren’t already at the next shallow valley, Alerio might have engaged them. He scurried down to Frigian.
“Empire cavalry just over the hill,” Alerio explained. “I’m going ahead to warn the Legionaries.”
“A complete unit?” asked one of the oarsmen. He lifted a hand from the pole and, with a sad expression on his face, pointed to the wild pigs. “Do we have to leave them?”
“Only four and they have moved away,” replied Alerio.
“The Goddess Diana is watching over our hunt,” the oarsman responded.
“Let’s hurry before she changes her mind,” suggested Frigian. “Captain Sisera, we’ll se
e you in town.”
Alerio saluted and climbed quickly to the top of the hill. After checking to be sure no more horsemen were there, he glanced back and waved the oarsmen forward. Then he vaulted over the top and ran for Messina.
***
Alerio rounded Citadel hill and almost ran into Senior Centurion Valerian.
“Slow down, Lance Corporal,” Valerian advised to the huffing and puffing and soaking wet Legionary.
“Qart Hadasht cavalry to the west moving south,” Alerio blew out before inhaling deeply.
“How many?” demanded Valerian.
Alerio, bent over with his hands on his knees, lifted one hand and displayed four fingers.
“Mounted couriers. If that’s all, there’s no threat,” Valerian ventured. “If they are heading for the Syracusans, that’s a tale yet to be told. Walk with me.”
The two men strolled casually up the slope so Alerio could catch his breath. They glanced up to see the Tribune on the crest gazing to the south.
“Tribune Claudius. Let me be the first to congratulate you on seizing Messina,” Valerian said as they reached the top of Citadel hill.
“Thank you, Senior Centurion,” replied Claudius. “Please express my appreciation to the Legionaries for their sacrifice.”
The Tribune hadn’t looked at them. His head was turned as he continued to stare off towards the south.
“Over the River Longanus, I see more Syracusan forces,” Tribune Claudius reported while lifting an arm indicating the thin ribbon of water beyond the battlefield. “Based on the number of columns, I believe King Hiero the Second has arrived. And, with a sizable army.”
“Orders, sir?” inquired Valerian. Then he remembered Alerio, “Lance Corporal Sisera reported a mounted Qart Hadasht courier detail of four riding to the south.”
“Lance Corporal Sisera, please tell the Sons’ Captains, I now understand the motivation of the commander of the Syracusan advance force. He was putting on a display because his King was coming. He didn’t want to admit he let his soldiers sit idle for weeks,” Claudius explained. “Ask the Sons if they will maintain their surveillance of the docks.”
Brutal Diplomacy Page 21