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 Sons’ 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 soldier, 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.
The 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 blockade.
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.”
Moments later, the Sergeant was downstairs in front of a Qart Hadasht Lieutenant.
“We have a single candle flame from the blockade,” the Sergeant reported.
“Doesn’t sound urgent,” the officer advised. “I’ll send a runner and have the Sergeant of the Guard check on the dock. Our patrol on the hook will handle any problems.”
“Very well, sir,” the Sergeant said as he saluted and walked back to the stairs.
***
The S.O.G. was a veteran of the army with years of experience fighting against enemies of the Empire. When the runner informed him about the one candle signal, he didn’t rush. However, he did send the runner to the other side of Messina with instructions to have the eight soldiers of the roving patrol meet him at the warehouses. Then he turned to his four soldiers
“Probably nothing but stay alert. Big trouble always starts small,” he informed his escort unit. “Especially in the depths of the night.”
They marched down the street towards the warehouses. On the south side of Messina, the eight men of the roving patrol jogged. They didn’t want to face the Sergeant’s ire if he arrived before them.
***
Other than a few lanterns casting spots of light on the pavers, the streets were dark. It was difficult to separate the patrol from the shadows until the Qart Hadasht soldiers were just three blocks away.
‘This isn’t good,’ Frigian thought as he tried to count the number of soldiers in the response unit. ‘They’re in a hurry.’ Then out loud, he announced, “Stoop down behind your shields.”
It was dark beside the warehouse and the eight soldiers slowed. There seemed to be a solid shadow across the road between them and the dock. As they approached, the shadow rose up and became a wall of shields.
“Attack! Attack,” Frigian shouted.
The Qart Hadasht spears stabbed and slashed the first rank of oarsmen. Those not bloodied were knocked to the side by the experienced soldiers. But the second rank and third filled in and once the surviving Sons were between the spearheads and the shields, the fight became more evenly matched.
Spears clattered to the pavers and swords leaped into Qart Hadasht hands. Under the press of bodies from the oarsmen, unit integrity dissolved and the soldiers fought as individuals. Outnumbered and with three of their patrol down and bleeding on the street, the five remaining soldiers stepped back as they fought.
“To me! To me!” the Sergeant of the Guard bellowed as he ran down the avenue from the north. “Rally to me.”
The five soldiers adjusted and rotated so they were stepping back towards their Sergeant. The movement surprised the oarsmen. As with any undisciplined hoard, the Sons shoved straight ahead with no regard for tactics. By the time the soldiers pivoted and were backing northward in the direction of the Sergeant, many of the oarsmen had run straight ahead meeting no resistance. More oarsmen followed them across the avenue, figuring the ones charging forward knew where to find the enemy.
An experienced combat NCO knows how to regain control and rally men in a crisis. He positioned his escorts a shield’s width apart. The four men barely covered the width of the avenue, but they did present a line of shields and spearheads.
“Hurry up, you mangy goat herders,” the Sergeant yelled the insult. Whether at his troops or as an enticement to the Sons to come against his spears, didn’t matter. To the five Empire troops in the fighting retreat, it was motivational to hear an NCO’s voice doling out verbal abuse. As if this street fight was nothing more than an exercise, the Sergeant added, “Fall back into ranks. Don’t you dare be the last man in my line.”
From behind their shields and with slashes of their swords, the five soldiers left a trail of dead oarsmen as they rapidly retreated towards the Sergeant’s shield wall. None wanted to be the last to join the ranks and suffer the Sergeant’s wrath.
The five Empire soldiers took a last step back and snapped their shields into place forming a solid wall of steel and bronze. The attacking oarsmen stopped and glared. Behind them, the Sergeant began issuing orders to extract the unit from the motionless oarsmen.
“To the rear, left swing,” he bellowed…it was the last order he would ever give.
The Empire Sergeant’s head rolled from his shoulders and his lifeless body toppled over. Before the nine soldiers could turn, the oarsman with the long blade dripping the NCO’s blood attacked.
The oarsmen in front jumped forward and from the street and alleyway between the warehouses, another wave of oarsmen assaulted the Empire troops from the rear. In nine heartbeats, the nine Qart Hadasht soldiers died.
Captain Frigian stood near a wall in his polished Greek armor.
“Drag them to the dock and dispose of the bodies. But keep the armor and weapons, they have value,” he ordered before walking back into the deep shadows.
Chapter 27 - Over the Rails to Glory
Alerio’s first instinct was to swim out and cut the transports free. They would drift away, opening the channel for the boats hauling the Legionaries. He expressed the idea in a group meeting earlier.
Cap
tain Milon Frigian, after settling down the men in the meeting, explained the transports were prize ships seized by the Sons of Mars. Not only were the transports valuable, they were owned by every member of the crews that had captured the cargo ships. Simply cutting them free was not an option.
***
Alerio guided the six unarmored Sons and four more to the point. Stacking the Legion shields so they faced the open water, he instructed, “Light a fire and keep it burning. Do not allow it to go out even after the first Legionaries have landed.”
“We understand, Lieutenant,” one of the armored men whispered. “You can depend on us.”
Now with the signal to launch lit, another fire marking the Strait side of the harbor, and Adiona’s flame to guide the boats down the center of the channel, he’d done almost everything to help with the Legion’s attack on Messina. There was one more task.
The Legionary yanked off his armor. While the remaining sixteen oarsmen stripped off their armor, Alerio and the six unarmored Sons, waded into the water and swam for the Corbita in the center of the blockade.
***
The Strait flowed northward causing the roped together transports to bow outward. This worried Alerio as the Legion boats could reach Messina rapidly but they might over shoot it again. Had the flow been southward at a different time of night, this part of the mission would have been easier. The transports after being untied would drift into the harbor on the current. A northbound current meant special handling once the transports were untied. And there was another issue. The current was attempting to suck Alerio out of the harbor and into the Strait.
Steady strokes the Legion instructors during Recruit training had advised. Crossing water silently required slow controlled motions with your arms and legs. Alerio took in a mouthful of saltwater and spit it out as a mental response to the instructions. His motions were rushed and almost frantic as he fought the current. And to add to the problem, he and the swimmers needed to approach the middle transport as silently as possible.
Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 2 Page 33