The heavy cargo of amphorae were gone; replaced by ten Illyrians pirates. Five were laying below the rail holding their long curved sicas ready to cut the throat of any Legionary attempting to board. The other five held bows in one hand and a handful of arrows in the other. Alerio crashed to his knees on the deck between the two groups.
Most fights were decided in the first three heartbeats of a conflict. The Illyrians, shocked by the sudden arrival of Alerio, squandered the first heartbeat. He didn’t. Two of the pirates at the rail rolled away with deep slashes in their backs. On the second heartbeat, the Illyrians responded.
Alerio felt a burning in the side of his thigh. Despite the high angle of the arrow jutting from his leg, he stayed focused on the knife welding men. They were the bottle neck for reinforcements and the key to winning this battle. It’s almost impossible for a man laying down to fight a standing man. Even when the upright fighter had to limp over to make the kill.
Three of the pirates were out of the fight when the next arrow pierced Alerio’s side. In frustration and pain, he screamed at the gods. He so wanted to turn and slaughter the bowmen, but there were still two knifemen at the railing.
They cast glances at the Legionary carrying two gladii, but he was struggling to shake off the shock of being impaled. Their job was to kill Legionaries as they boarded so they ignored him. He was the archers concern.
Alerio fought off the haze that clouded his mind and limped forward toward the pirates. An arrow appeared in the deck in front of him. It came from between his legs. The archers were on their feet and Alerio expected their next arrows would be more accurate. Still, he closed the distance between him and the pirates at the railing.
On the third heartbeat, a shield came over the railing. Powered by a vaulting Private Lupus, it smashed into a pirate.
“Shield him,” Lupus screamed as he plunged his gladius into the off balanced pirate’s chest.
Two more Legionaries came over the rail. One joined Lupus as he stalked the final knifeman. The other placed his shield between Alerio and the archers.
When the fourth Legionary hit the deck, Lupus ordered, “On line.”
As the fifth pirate from the rail fell from slashes to his face and torso, the five Legionaries linked shields.
“Advance. Advance. Advance,” shouted Lupus.
At first the shields were thrust forward meeting empty air, and the gladii followed also striking empty air. On the third advance, the five Illyrian archers were hammered back against the port side rail. Trapped between the retreating shields and the limit of the vessel, they had no place to go when the blades were thrust forwards. The Legionaries carved their flesh and all five archers were dead by the time they sank to the deck.
Alerio smiled as the archers died then his face contorted as his thigh cramped up and the pain in his side doubled him over. He crumpled to the deck.
Chapter 27 – Win the Battle, Lose the War
Alerio looked up to see Private Lupus and Second Squad’s Lance Corporal standing over him. The stench of burning flesh clogged his nostrils. He winced as someone tightened a cloth around his leg.
“We cauterized your wounds after removing the arrows,” the squad leader informed him. “It’ll leave scars but we don’t have anyone who can sew skin.”
“When does your class on committing suicide begin, gladius instructor?” Lupus asked. “Because, I am going to request latrine duty that day.”
“Nobody sane requests latrine duty,” replied Alerio.
“Nobody sane attacks a ship load of pirates, alone,” Lupus said.
“I didn’t know there were that many,” admitted Alerio.
“How many is the proper number?” asked Lupus. “I’m just trying to gage what level of madness you’d entertain.”
Second Squad’s Lance Corporal interrupted them. “Can you stand?” asked the squad leader.
“I can make it to the patrol boat,” Alerio assured him.
“That’s not going to happen,” the Lance Corporal informed Alerio. “I mean; can you hold a shield? We have an Illyrian bireme baring down on us and I don’t think they’ll be happy with the way you interfered with their ambush.”
“I can hold a shield,” Alerio said as he placed a hand on the deck and pushed to a sitting position. After pausing to let the spasms of pain fade, he added, “If someone can give me a hand up?”
Once on his feet, Alerio looked around for Hadrian. He located the ship’s Captain sitting between two Legionaries. Both had their blades out.
“Lance Corporal. Why is the merchant captain under guard?” Alerio asked the squad leader.
“He was armed and I figured he was part of the ambush,” replied the squad leader.
“Pull the gladius and you’ll see he was barely armed,” Alerio stated. “If not for him wearing the sheath, I wouldn’t have known about the Illyrians.”
“Are you sure?” the Lance Corporal asked.
“Absolutely. Besides, if we’re going to have a sea battle,” said Alerio looking out at the approaching bireme. “We might as well have an experienced sea captain at the helm.”
The guards acknowledged the squad leader’s signal and went to join their squads. Hadrian stood and walked to Alerio.
“The Illyrians asked, after killing three of my men, what I’d wear into battle,” the merchant said. “I told them my gladius. They never checked the blade.”
“I’m glad you did,” said Alerio. “Any suggestions about the bireme?”
“We can’t out run him but my ship is doubled hulled. He can’t ram us without getting stuck. By the time he frees himself, we can be far away in the patrol boat,” Hadrian stated. “The tide is coming in. If we get movement toward the beach, and move into shallower water, we’ll at least limit which side they attack from.”
“How would that work?” asked Third Squad’s Lance Corporal as he walked over.
“They need deep water to circle us,” Hadrian explained. “Without depth or the knowledge of Bova beach, they’ll fear running aground. So, they’ll be forced to come along side us. We’ll dictate which side by turning the other side toward the beach. But we need to move and move now.”
Ten Legionaries manned the patrol boat and four others rowed the merchant vessel. Lashed together, they were able to row and tow the transport in the direction of the beach. When the squad leaders could make out individual faces on the Illyrian bireme, they had the patrol boat tow the transport sideways to the shoreline.
“A strong swimmer could make it,” Lupus said as he climbed from the patrol boat. “If he avoided the sharks and the Illyrian arrows.”
Alerio looked away from the approaching warship and back at the shoreline of Bovesia. From this distance, he could see the beach, the steps, and the shields of Legionaries at the second level. Features on faces were blurred by distance, so it looked closer than it was. He started to disagree with Lupus.
“Shields up and form on line,” a squad leader directed. “If they start with arrows, we don’t want another Lance Corporal Sisera. Keep the shields tight.”
If Alerio felt better, he would have resented the squad leader using him as an example of a mistake. As it was, he was using all his strength just to stand stooped over. There wasn’t energy left for feelings.
Four Legionaries grouped on the raised platform shielded Hadrian and the rear oar. They fully covered that ten feet of the transport. The other eighteen Legionaries stood on the cargo boards along the port side rail. Between the height of the side boards and the shields, they presented a strong face to the approaching Illyrians.
“Where do you want me, Lance Corporal?” Alerio asked the squad leader.
“My shield and the other squad leader’s shield are with the boat handlers,” he replied. “That leaves one Legionary and us to replace any injured. You’re the forth replacement. If it comes to that, pick up a shield and stand in line. Until then, try not to attract any more arrowheads.”
The Lance Corporal walked awa
y, no doubt to encourage his men, and Alerio looked around to see where he should go to get out of the way. He noticed Hadrian who was waving to get his attention. Despite the pain, Alerio limped to the ladder and climbed to the platform.
“Captain. What can I do for you?” Alerio asked while holding his side.
There was no blood thanks to the hot iron poker, but there was pain. The agony was evenly distributed between the entrance and exit holes in his thigh and his side. He chose to hold his side. Because holding the thigh required him to bend and that aggravate his side.
“The satchel beside my trunk,” Hadrian replied. “Bring it to me.”
Alerio limped to the leather pouch. He almost screamed when he stooped to lift it, but after biting his lip, he walked it back to Hadrian.
“What’s in it?” asked Alerio. “Another relic with a storied history?”
“No, Lance Corporal Sisera. It’s medicine to kill the pain,” the merchantman replied as he fished around inside the satchel. He pulled out a small glass container with a waxed seal. “We keep it on board for when one of the crew is injured. In most of our ports-of-call there are no doctors or spare crewmen. So, I kill the pain with this. Put your finger over the mouth, wet your finger with the potion, and place it on your tongue.”
Alerio peeled off the wax, placed a finger over the lip and turned the bottle over.
“What’s in it?” he asked as he lifted the finger to his mouth.
“Honey mixed with oils from the plant of joy,” Hadrian explained. “It’s Egyptian as is the glass. Take another three doses.”
There were conflicting tastes in Alerio’s mouth. The sweet honey swirled around while a thick bitter substance coated spots on his tongue. He was so focused on the flavors, he forgot his pain. It wasn’t gone, but the sharp debilitating feelings had receded to a level where he could function. Except for the muscle in his thigh, which had damage that limited movement.
“What do I owe you?” Alerio asked as he straightened his back for the first time since the arrow penetrated his side.
“You saved the ship and my life. I would call that a fair trade,” Hadrian replied then asked. “What are the pirates after? Killing two squads of Legionaries isn’t profitable. Not even if they sold you as slaves.”
They both looked over the Legion shields toward the pirate’s bireme. It had stopped advancing and sat bobbing in the swells. A group of Illyrians stood mid-ship studying the merchant vessel and the Legionaries lining the rail.
“Whatever they wanted, it didn’t include two health squads of Legionaries,” guessed Alerio.
Then he remembered a lesson from his formative years. A veteran Centurion and Sergeant had explained that it wasn’t always necessary to defeat your enemy’s entire force to take an objective. Sometimes is was more efficient to simply lure some of them away so they were unavailable to join the fight.
The Second and Third Squads had been lured into deep water and even though they survived the ambush, they were stuck and unavailable. Unavailable for what?
After tossing off a salute to the merchant Captain, Alerio hobbled to the ladder. Moments later, he had both squad leaders huddled around him.
“We’re not the primary object of this exercise,” he said. “The Illyrians just wanted us out of the fight.”
“What fight?” Third’s asked. “As far as I can see, we’re the only fight around.”
“The gladius instructor is right,” Second’s Lance Corporal said. “Look at them sitting there like an eagle playing with a hare in an open field. If we break the shield wall and start rowing, they’ll come swooping in and attack. If we stand firm, I’ve a feeling they’ll just sit there until…”
“Until what?” demanded Third Squad’s Lance Corporal.
Although far off and barely audible, the notes from a trumpet reached across the water from the observation stand at Bovesia garrison.
“Was that three notes or two?” inquired Alerio.
For some reason, he was having a hard time focusing on the faint sounds. The Lance Corporals were fine, even the pirate ship came in clearly, it just seemed to be too much trouble to concentrate on things far away.
“Silence,” both squad leaders ordered.
The soft notes drifted across the water again.
“Two sets of three,” Third’s squad leader announced. “Definitely two sets of three.”
“Hence, while we drift here with over a hundred and twenty Illyrians waiting to cut our throats and feed us to the sharks,” Second’s Lance Corporal said. “Two more warships are heading for Bovesia.”
“They’ve reduced the enemy by luring us away from the garrison,” Alerio said. “What can we do?”
Chapter 28 – Invitation to a Massacre
“Let’s invite them to come over and play,” Second’s Squad leader suggested.
“On that warship, there are one hundred and twenty oarsmen, and the gods only know how many Illyrians soldiers and, of course, archers,” Third Squad’s Lance Corporal reminded him.
“Maybe. But we aren’t the main target,” replied the squad leader from Second. “I think that ship was here to pick up their men after the ambush.”
“Therefore, they are shorthanded and may be out of archers,” Alerio suggested. “Let’s test the premise.”
Before either squad leader could object, Alerio had pushed between the shields of Private Lupus and another Legionary.
“Need a favor Lupus, and a hand,” Alerio said.
***
The Illyrians watched as a bandaged Legionary was shoved up on the rail of the merchant vessel. From his perch, he made rude gestures with his fingers, hands, and arms. A grumbling ran through the oarsmen on the warship.
Illyrians prided themselves on being brave and they depended on the public’s perception of them being vicious and fearless fighters. When the Legionary lifted his tunic, and ground his hips at them, the entire crew was ready to mutiny. A couple of well-place arrows would stop the insults but their best bowmen had been on the merchant ship. Now the Illyrian Captain had to make a decision; attack, or follow orders, and make sure the Legionaries didn’t reach the beach.
The Legionary on the rail extended both arms as if hugging the Illyrian crew. Then, he looked to the sky and laughed before his body leaned back and he toppled out of sight below the rail. Although an enemy and an irritation, the Illyrian crew gasped.
Alerio looked back and forth at the two kneeling Legionaries who cradled his body.
“How did I look?” he asked. “Were they mad?”
“Gladius instructor. The next time you give a class on taunting the enemy I’m going to ask for double latrine duty,” Lupus said.
Once the Legionaries let Alerio all the way down to the cargo boards, he crawled behind the line of shields.
“They don’t have archers,” reported Alerio. “And from their reactions, I’d say the crew is really angry.”
Second Squad’s Lance Corporal looked off in the distance before snapping his head back and glaring at Third Squad’s Lance Corporal.
“I say we move the line to the other rail and invite the Illyrians to the party,” he said between clinched teeth. “We sit here and our brother at Bovesia die. I’d rather fight. Besides, do you think they’ll leave without setting fire to this over size wine vat on their way out. I vote, we fight.”
“Third Squad, step back to the starboard rail,” their squad leader ordered. “Let’s see if any Illyrians have the cōleī to come over and fight.”
“Second Squad, step back,” the other Lance Corporal announced, “Up on the platform, maintain your position.”
Both squad leaders threaded between the moving shields and marched forward to the now empty rail.
“Lance Corporal Sisera. Join us,” they said in unison.
Alerio followed and soon the three junior noncommissioned officers were standing at attention with their right arms across their chests in a salute. Then slowly, they straightened their arms, keeping
them parallel to the deck, until the three fists were pointing at the Illyrians.
A roar went up from the pirate ship and a few oars splashed in the water. Illyrian oarsmen jumped up and yelled at the NCOs. Yet, the Legionaries stood as still as granite statues.
The Illyrian Captain stalked the center line of his ship. As he prowled, he called out threats on a leather tube that was narrow on one end and wide on the other. Despite the verbal thunder, the only promise of lighting was from the three Lance Corporals standing defiantly, and unyielding, on the deck of the small merchant vessel.
“I think we look foolish,” Third Squad’s Lance Corporal said out of the side of his mouth.
“They don’t think so,” the leader of Second Squad whispered. “I’d say they’ve just about reached a boiling point.”
“How long are we going to stand here? Until a sea gull drops merda on us?” Third Squad’s Lance Corporal asked. “And what’s to prevent them from ramming us with that huge copper mentula?”
“The merchant ship is double hulled,” Alerio said relaying information he’d gleamed from Hadrian. “The warship can ram us but he might get hung up. If that happens, we’ll run for the beach in the patrol boat.”
“Well aren’t you a wealth of information, gladius instructor,” teased Second’s Lance Corporal.
As if a centipede suddenly awakens, the one hundred twenty oars on the bireme lifted in a flurry before dipping into the water.
“Gentlemen. I believe our challenge has been accepted,” the squad leader from Second Squad announced. Then loudly, so everyone on the merchant ship could hear. “Stand by.”
Twenty-one hobnailed boots stomped the heavy cover boards making them rumble, and twenty-one voices replied, “Standing by Lance Corporal.”
“Draw,” he ordered and as one twenty-four gladii were pulled from their sheaths. “I’ll command the aft section. Sisera, you’ve got the center and...”
“I’ve got the bow,” Third’s Squad leader stated. “Good luck, Lance Corporals.”
Bloody Water (Clay Warrior Stories Book 3) Page 9