Dragons and Romans

by William David Ellis

  Xenophanes’s tent was filled with parchments, drafting tools, and models of weapons, ranging from small ballista that could fire a dozen bolts before being reloaded, to the explosive devices that saved Decemus and his men from the ambush the Carthaginians had laid for them. Regulus had recognized his mechanical genius and recruited him as his weapons master. The Romans were no slouches when it came to engineering, but Xenophanes was a savant. He was always working on some new project, and as soon as he had the idea resolved in his mind, would become bored and drop it, leaving a multitude of unfinished projects in his wake, like garbage dumped off the bow of a Roman galley. Han Xing recognized this propensity and lectured the genius time and again, but to no avail. The general finally assigned a troupe of skilled weapons engineers to assist Xenophanes with their main focus being to learn enough to finish what he had started. That combination of genius and perspiration created a regular flow of new and improved weapons, armor, and communication equipment.

  Han Xing entered Xenophanes’ tent expecting to explain to him the problem of piercing the thick beast scales, but was astonished to hear, “General Han Xing, where have you been? I’ve been working around the clock. By the way, what day is it?” And then, corralling his tendency to self-distract, continued, “Your ballistae cannot pierce the dragon’s skin. What are you going to do? Hit it with bigger rocks? Blunt trauma to the brain? Battle axes and explosives? Nope, been all through that and a hundred more ideas.” The tall, skinny genius walked over to his workbench, grasped a shiny piece of black rock about a half cubit long and said, “This will do the job.”

  Han Xing noticed Xenophanes’ hands were wrapped in small bloodstained strips of bandage, and the bench itself looked like a surgeon’s table.

  Xenophanes saw his general gaze at the bloody workbench. “This damned rock is sharp. It’s not very strong, not like iron, but it is so sharp, it doesn’t have to be. Which by the way reminds me, I need to talk to Nachum, the surgeon, and have him send me some of his tools so I can install this rock in it. It’s so sharp, if you look at it wrong, it will blind you.”

  Han Xing looked at Xenophanes, raised a regal eyebrow, and the Greek got back on subject.

  “But, yes it will do the job. I carved it into a cone shape to slip onto the existing shaft, and then one small twist,” he said, illustrating the act with his bloody hands, “and it is tight. This projectile will impact the dragon with enough force to either pierce the dragon’s scales, or shatter against them, allowing the missle fragments to pierce it. Either way, the dragon bleeds.”

  Han Xing was grinning, incredibly grateful. Once again, his weapons master had been ahead of him, anticipated his need, and provided a solution even before asked. But Xenophanes had been known to hype developments that did not quite measure up, so the general pushed back his hope and decided to play the part of a skeptic. “What makes you think this will work, Xenophanes? How did you test it? We don’t have a dragon to target and determine its penetration capacity.”

  Xenophanes laughed and answered, “Oh, general, you have so little faith. I tested it, just not on a dragon. But let me show you this.” He lifted the tent flap and led Han Xing out the back way to a wagon full of fragmented stones, many of which had a round hole in them where something had slammed against them hard enough to burrow through stone and break it. Xenophanes pointed to the rocks, “General, I don’t think the dragon is made of rock. We broke this rock and actually pierced it with a ballista at one hundred and fifty yards. On our last encounter with the dragon, we got within one hundred and fifty feet, and no one who got closer survived. I think we have a chance with our larger ballista equipped with this tip.”

  Han Xing nodded his head. He needed to report to Regulus, and he looked forward to giving his wounded general good news.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Regulus tried to rest, but the heat of the day bearing down on his tent, combined with his burn wounds and sticky, honey-based salve, made for an intolerably miserable situation.

  Nachum had commented on his progress, promising him he would be back to work in three weeks with full mobility. The physician’s major concern was the burn on his face. It was healing, but like burns did, it was shriveling, pulling his facial muscles into a repulsive, scarred leer. Regulus had determined he could live with the scar. He had no other choice and had lived beyond the age where he was trying to impress a woman with his fine looks.

  He rubbed the harsh wound that stared back from his handsome but broken face and didn’t stand long in front of the burnished metal that acted like a mirror in his quarters. He couldn’t even grimace without it hurting and preferred not to think about his disfigurement. For now, it was the least of his worries. Overall, he was encouraged but impatient. He had discovered quickly and painfully in his first days of convalescence that he couldn’t toss or turn like he was prone to because his left side would scream out to him if he abused it during his sleep. So, he was perpetually fatigued.

  He knew better than to grumble publicly because many of his men were worse than he. He made a point to try and visit those wounded men. It pleased them to know he cared and most of them had more encouragement to offer him than he could grant them. Some of them were hopelessly scarred, many had lost limbs, but most were on the mend. Regulus had made a law among his legionnaires. The wounded got a double portion of the spoils of war. It wouldn’t make them rich, but it would ensure them some income when they shipped home. But as generous as he was to his men, he was still miserable, exhausted, and haunted by the spirits that haunt good generals after a battle. The dragon appeared to him every time he sought the solace of sleep and awakened him with its roar and fiery breath. The melting face of the optio that saved him was seared in his imagination along with the screams of the men being slashed and crushed by the dragon. Regulus wondered if the same force that had conjured the dragon now warred against him. He was in the middle of that thought when Nachum entered his tent.

  “You are the only officer I have who doesn’t request permission to bounder into my tent,” Regulus growled.

  “Well, your highness,” Nachum laughed, “it just so happens I do have your permission. As a matter of fact, you wrote the regulation for your legion giving me authority in my medical attention of you or other senior officers to attend to your wounds when and as often as I see fit. So, if you want to be technical about it, I am your senior at the moment.”

  Regulus just looked at him, sighed and slipped back down on his pillow.

  “You’re having trouble sleeping. You’re not getting any rest, and I am here to fix that,” Nachum continued.

  “I thought you already tried to fix me and failed miserably,” Regulus countered, taking advantage of his condition to continue growling.

  “I have only just begun,” Nachum replied, undaunted. “But,” he paused for effect, knowing Regulus would catch his hesitation and pay attention to his next words.

  Regulus took the bait. “But what? Have you some wild herb or exotic concoction to try on me? Did it work on the rest of the men? Didn’t kill any of them, did it? Give them terminal diarrhea or some horrible rash? Puts them right to sleep, but takes three weeks to wake up?”

  Nachum snorted, “Honestly sir, knowing your love for your men, I decided to experiment on you first before offering it to them.”

  Regulus chuckled in spite of himself, and the movement of his facial muscles caused him to groan. “When I stretch them it hurts,” he explained. “But at least I still have half a face, better than one poor boy I saw.”

  Nachum respectfully ignored the remark. “With your permission, sir, I want to try a remedy I received from someone else. Do you remember the young woman that was in your tent assisting you a few days ago?”

  Regulus remembered the circumstances under which he had been introduced to Miriam and blushed.

  “Yes, of course you do,” Nachum plowed on. “She is a healer herself. A very good one, I might add. She told me this cure was foolproof. She actually s
aid Roman-proof, but I think she meant the same thing.”

  “If I laugh again and my face cracks and bleeds, I am going to flog you, Nachum.”

  “Yes, sir! Now, where did I put the flatulence potion? There it is,” he said, pointing at the drink Regulus had been indulging. “You haven’t been drinking that have you, sir?”

  Regulus’ glare ended Nachum’s teasing.

  Used to his commander’s ability to turn on a dime, Nachum sobered instantly. “As I was saying, it’s worth a try. The remedy acts on three levels.”

  “Explain,” Regulus said, curious.

  “First, it acts on the purely physical level with the use of a certain herb brewed with fermented honey. Both are sleep aids. Neither are noxious or prone to attaching themselves like strong drink. Second, the remedy acts on the soul. You know I am a Jew, and we worship the One true God. And thanks to you Romans allowing us to do so, we pray for you, and, well sir, you remember the shofar and its effect?”

  “Yes, I do,” Regulus said quietly, focused now on what Nachum was telling him.

  “The young woman is not only a healer of the body, sir, but she is also a singer, and the songs she sings are similar to the energies released by the shofar. But smoother, more melodious, and yet able to push back the darkness.”

  Or at least that is what I hope, Nachum thought. He won’t really flog me, will he?

  “And what of the third level?

  “Well, sir, there is an old story of long ago, whether your nation’s or mine in origin, I do not know. But the bottom line is beauty calmed the beast, and this woman, although scarred at the hand of a Carthaginian torturer, is beautiful.”

  Regulus shifted back into his cot and breathed in deeply. “Well, I suppose it is worth a try. I have not forgotten what the horn sounded like. And before you barged into my sleeping quarters, I was wondering if the dark energies that conjured the dragon were capable of attacking me in my sleep. I’ve had nightmares before. Every soldier does. The faces of those he slays, hover over him in his sleep, robbing him of his rest even as he forced them into theirs. But those dreams were not like these. These are alive and have not faded with the days. I have to get back on my feet and lead this army. Han Xing has the whole weight of it on him right now. So yes, I will try your concoction and your healer woman. Bring her on.”

  Nachum nodded and walked out of the tent.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The dragon lay curled like a serpent around its own body. It didn’t open its eyes, but its mind was fully alert, listening, sensing, feeling. It had eaten well and actually eaten twice since the affair at the arena.

  The dragon had a vague sense of self-awareness, as though a person had slowly begun to turn up the light in a dark room. But it had no idea it had been resurrected by an ancient darkness that had arisen under a sun that no longer even burned. Now this darkness, in eternal rebellion, hid in the shadows of this world, seething and plotting until the light discovered it and scattered it. The ancient darkness was malevolent and so powerful it could not touch a living creature without distorting it and leaving something of its intelligent malice behind.

  Asdrubal’s repeated invasion of the dragon’s mind expanded the beast’s awareness. Its ability to comprehend increased, and now it began to explore the dangerous new paths confronting it. It knew no words, but it had begun to think, to reason, and its first thought was it did not like being commanded by the darkness. It was a beast and as a beast, a predator. It loved the taste of fresh meat. It did not like to be bound. It fought being controlled and began to picture its tormentor and what it would like to feast on him.

  ****

  Asdrubal, or what was now called Asdrubal and possessed the priest’s body, was anxious. Anxiety was a new and troubling feeling. The dark spirit that inhabited Asdrubal’s body was subject to the limitations of that body. The body needed to sleep and eat, it suffered from mosquito bites and stomach aches. The evil residing in human form forfeited some of its power in the process and was now paying the price for its arrogance.

  As Asdrubal paced, he could sense the dragon’s mind growing and exerting its own will against him. He knew he had to attack the Romans soon. His spies told him there had been a lot of activity in the camp, and the Romans were not discouraged or planning on leaving. On the contrary, they were actually building stronger ballistae. And something else was going on, but the Romans kept a tight lid on it. They had discovered there were spies in their midst, so several places in the camp were off limits to regular personnel, and extra guards had been placed in those areas to enforce the boundaries.

  Asdrubal feared what he did not know. As a human, the high priest had been paranoid to the extreme, his body accommodated his attitude, and his physiology became addicted to the adrenaline release of high stress. So, the spirit that now used Asdrubal’s body like a tool, had to be careful he didn’t break his human habitation beyond repair. His associates had also urged him to release the dragon again, to hammer the Romans into ruin and relieve the pressure of the siege. Carthage was a major sea power, and that had been the cause of a lot of skirmishes and ultimately wars with Rome. Now, after fierce battles with Regulus’ navy, the Carthaginian fleet, or what was left of it, was bottled up in the harbor licking its wounds. Asdrubal thought about the Roman blockade. The Roman galleys were large wooden targets made of extremely flammable materials and couldn’t move as deftly as men. A wicked grin spread across his features. He moved into his private quarters to meditate, preparing to possess the dragon and attack the wall of Roman ships that imprisoned his city.

  ****

  While Asdrubal was not a tactician, Regulus was, and Han Xing was a master of all types of warfare including naval. Regulus was commander of all the Roman forces arrayed against Carthage, including the blockade ships. When the dragon began to attack, he had pulled his men back to better defend against the unknown capabilities of the dragon. He also ordered his ships to fall back and disperse into less densely packed groups. After Regulus was wounded in action, Han Xing bent his creative genius to naval operations. Han Xing knew nothing was more flammable than a wooden vessel held together with tar and pitch. The history of naval warfare was awash with disastrous reports of what fire arrows and Greek fire could do to a fleet. With that in mind, Han ordered the fleet to back even farther away from the city and only occasionally and randomly sent in a trireme to observe and track any Carthaginian vessel that tried to take advantage of the blockade’s withdrawal.

  With the discovery of the Evvoian cloth and the installation of obsidian points on the ballistae, the navy had a means of protecting itself. Han Xing and Xenophanes provided this shield to the navy’s defense by using hot air balloons. First, Xenophanes designed a base that held a small coal brazier and cased it with a frame made from dried bamboo. He then covered the bamboo frame with Evvoian cloth and attached it to a rope that strung several balloons together, protecting the navy ships by denying the dragon lower airspace. If the dragon tried to attack through the balloon system, it risked entangling itself and becoming a large, slow target for the new obsidian tipped projectiles.

  Han Xing did not have enough cloth to outfit every ship with a stringed hot air balloon phalanx, so only the smaller, faster ships patrolling the harbor were furnished. The rest of the fleet was pulled back several leagues in the hope that the additional distance would deter the dragon from attacking.

  Regulus and Han Xing had watchers posted close to the walls surrounding the city. They used the same telescopic device that the Carthaginians had developed to watch the Romans. Han Xing’s spies discovered the magnifying instrument and pilfered a few. They smuggled them back to the general, who promptly handed them over to Xenophanes, who, in turn, started making improvements within hours. So, when Asdrubal sent the dragon to attack the fleet, the Romans knew it was coming.

  Like the telescope idea, the eclectic Romans also pirated the Greek hydraulic semaphore. That brilliant but simple communication system consisted of two i
dentical tubes of water engraved at different water levels with prearranged messages. The tubes were separated miles apart on hills or towers or even ships at sea. The higher the hill, the farther the distance could be. When a message needed to be conveyed, a torch was lit on a hill, tower, or ship within line of sight. As soon as the observer in the semaphore line noted the lit torch in the distance, he responded with a torch. Then simultaneously the plugs would be pulled from each tube, and the water levels descend until the original torch signaled again. The level of the water would mark the engraved message intended to be conveyed. The network was weather dependent, but could, if calculations included distance and number of transfers stations involved, be relayed quickly and efficiently over long distances. During the Punic wars, Hannibal sent messages using this system from Sicily to Carthage. And now the Romans could warn their fleet they were about to be attacked.

  The galley captains determined their best defense against attack from a flying beast spewing flame was to disperse their larger, slower vessels and move their sleeker, smaller and more easily maneuvered vessels forward. The Roman sailors trained on the hot air balloon defenses for days and were able to ignite and float them in under two minutes. They learned they had to keep the balloons semi-inflated in order to do this, but the effort to maintain the inflation was worth the time it saved getting them in the air. And now the ultimate trial was upon them.