The triremes existed for two functions, carrying messages, and sinking enemy ships. Slightly top heavy, the smaller vessels had limited troop hauling capability. But they boasted the same size bronze rams as their bigger cousins. A healthy respect for the triremes ability to kill kept the Admiral’s ship safe. For that reason, the three Qart Hadasht Captains were pleasantly surprised when a Republic warship lined up and rowed towards their kill zone.
One trireme split off and began a large circular route. The end of the loop would bring the ram to the stern of the Republic warship if the other two missed. The pair of ship killers cut tight arcs and lined up for a dual attack run.
Their plan dissolved when two more Republic warships appeared on the rear flanks of the first. Together, the three quinqueremes swept forward, their aim clear, drive the triremes away from the septireme.
Planning to leave and return later, the pair split up. As the Empire ships-of-war rowed away from the septireme, Republic triremes attacked and buried their rams in the sides of the Empire ships. In moments, both sank.
The third was far out of range. After seeing the fate of his two companions, the Captain of the last Empire trireme decided to hunt where he wasn’t being targeted.
***
As if tasting a new dish to try the spices, or poking an animal to test the beast’s temperament, the blue armored soldiers set, locked shields, and met the newly arrived Legionaries. So far, they had crowded the warship’s infantrymen and Marines to a small section of the vessel. There was no reason to believe their dominance would be any less when dealing with the fresh Legionaries. To their displeasure they found tangling with veteran infantrymen distasteful and lethal.
“Melee,” the First Optio ordered when the shield walls touched and mashed together.
Fighting as individuals, the infantrymen pressed against the enemy while aligning their shields. A second rank of Legionaries snatched javelins from the stockpile and dispersed evenly behind the veterans.
“First Century, standby,” the Optio called out.
Along the line of the four veteran squads, the squad leaders repeated the NCO’s words.
“First Century, standby,” they yelled.
“First Century, standby,” the thirty-six Legionaries of the Century responded.
“Advance, Advance in three…” the Optio ordered.
“Two, one…” the Decani repeated.
“Advance. Advance,” the combat line echoed.
Violent and coordinated strikes with the shields dazed and shoved the mercenaries in blue. Before their heads cleared, gladius blade thrusts drove blades between shields. A quarter of the Empire’s front rank crumbled, falling to the ground wounded. Then the Legion shields smashed again, and the lightening quick blades struck and withdrew. A third of the front line of the blue boys fell to the deck.
***
Whistles shrieked from the septireme and in response the engaged units of the Admiral’s bodyguards dropped back and reformed. From mid deck of the massive ship-of-war, the Empire’s commander whined.
“I have,” Hannibal Gisco complained. “Oh, terrible Reshef, I have.”
“You have what, Admiral?” Fleet Lieutenant Ahinadab questioned. Then he reminded the Admiral. “Mentioning the God of Fire and Lightning on wooden ships is not advisable. It could spell disaster for the fleet.”
Hannibal Gisco turned weepy eyes on the young fleet officer. His wet cheeks highlighted the pained expression on the Admiral’s face.
“When I began this campaign, I swore I would not mirror the failures of our ground forces in Sicily,” Hannibal admitted. “But I did. I allowed the fleet to get stalled as sure as our armies got mired down in slugging it out with the Republic’s Legionaries. By all that is holy, Reshef should strike me with lightning and burn me where I stand.”
Lieutenant Ahinadab looked down on the fighting. The battle had moved to a new position on the deck. One just shy of the septireme’s hull. After judging which side had the momentum, Ahinadab pulled Captain Ahumm close and whispered in his ear.
“Your vessel is hemmed in by Republic warships. And the Admiral is in danger. He cannot be captured,” the Fleet Lieutenant advised. “Call in a trireme for the Admiral and his staff.”
A loyal signalman flashed flags. In response, the trireme patrolling on the fringe of the sea battle broke its pattern and dashed towards the septireme.
Another line of the blue armored bodyguards fell to the deck boards and the Republic line moved closer to the Admiral’s flagship.
Hannibal Gisco wanted to protest when he was pulled away from the rail, and the blue robe was stripped from his shoulders. A gray cloak took the place of the identifiable robe of office and Hannibal found himself with a rope in his hands. He climbed down and, as soon as his feet touched the deck, the trireme shot forward. Hannibal Gisco staggered but Ahinadab steadied him.
Glancing around, Admiral Gisco noted that the only other person to get off the septireme was the Fleet Lieutenant.
***
“The Goddess Victoria was surely with us this day,” Gaius Duilius announced from the deck of the septireme.
Below him, on the deck of the Qart Hadasht quinquereme, stood over eleven hundred captured oarsmen, sailors, and mercenaries. A glance at the surrounding sea showed the bulk of his fleet arriving and attacking the leaderless Empire fleet. Broken and half submerged Qart Hadasht ships-of-war dotted the surface.
“Tonight, on land, we will sacrifice to the Goddess for her hand in guiding our gladii and our rams,” Duilius proclaimed. The General scanned the crowded deck before asking. “Where is Centurion Sisera?”
Alerio sat to the rear of the men guarding the prisoners. His shoulders drooped from exhaustion and he carried the aroma of battle. The stink of blood, sweat, urine, and voided intestines. Whether released by natural pathways out of fear or from blade slashes across stomachs, the pungent smell of merda clung to his armor. A dive into the sea to rinse off with salt water was appealing. But he was too tired to move.
“Where is Centurion Sisera?”
The voice of General Duilius snapped him out of the fatigue.
“Here, sir,” Alerio shouted while raising both arms.
A hand in the back propelled him in the direction of the septireme. Glancing back revealed the push came from Flictus Savium. The ship’s Centurion added a hurry up motion with his hands when Alerio slowed.
As Alerio moved through the crowd, the Legionaries, Marines, sailors, and rowers with shields grew quiet. Only the birds overhead and the gentle crash of waves against hulls accompanied his walk to the General’s position.
“Sir. Centurion Alerio Sisera reporting as ordered,” Alerio stated with a salute.
“Washed in blood as is fitting for a man known as Death Caller,” General Duilius declared. “I’ve heard words about you from oarsmen, deck officers, Legionaries, Optios, and a Centurion.”
Alerio’s stomach tightened. He had been rough on the men and officers over the past months and more so today. Pulling a Junior Centurion from the audience to make an example of him shouldn’t be something the General had time for even if the sea battle was ending.
“I don’t have access to a jewelry maker,” Duilius remarked. A hand positioned over his eyes as if blocking the sun while he searched the ocean brought laughter from the assembled men. He pulled a necklace from a pouch and knotted the chain to shorten it. “Until I do, let this represent the Naval Crown award for the first Legionary to board an enemy ship in this battle.”
Alerio pulled off his helmet and General Gaius Duilius placed the shortened necklace on his head as if it was a crown. Cheers rose from the crowd, making Alerio Sisera blush.
Chapter 40 – Carthage 260 BC
The aroma of orange and lime mixed with the ocean breeze. Gusting in from offshore, the wind cooled the morning and the hint of citrus in the air soothed the nerves. Unfortunately, the anger and agitation in the conference room crushed both sensations.
�
�I will not have these proceedings interrupted by comments from onlookers,” fleet magistrate Batnoam scolded. “In this room, your opinions are as useless as your presence. And if I hear one more outburst, you will be removed.”
A man swathed in an expensive robe huffed and extended an arm.
“This is a travesty,” he thundered. The beads woven into his thick beard jumped up and down with the force of his voice.
“Urumi Ahinadab, if you can’t control your passion,” Batnoam cautioned. “You will be physically removed. I will not warn the spectators again.”
“If you are so sure of the injustice,” a man on the other side of the room challenged Urumi. “put up the compensation for the losses.”
The fleet magistrate rapped his staff of office on the tabletop. The sharp sounds ricocheted off the walls, drowning out Urumi’s response.
“Captain of the Guard,” Batnoam spoke in an even tone which hid his impatience. “On my command, you will clear this room of everyone except the principals involved in this trial.”
“That seems a bit excessive,” a man in a blue and white robe of quality Egyptian cotton protested.
“Does the government have a stake in having nonessential witnesses at the trial?” Batnoam inquired. “Because Prosecutor Sikar, if so, it would be admirable to let the court in on the strategy.”
“Magistrate Batnoam, it hurts my heart to think you believe the government has an agenda,” Sikar informed the magistrate. “Our person is here simply to present the facts. The gentlemen of the Naval Board will make the final decision. Without undue influence from public opinion, I am sure.”
Magistrate Batnoam flinched knowing that pressure, one way or another would affect the three-man panel. A closed tribunal afforded privacy and made for a better judgment. But it appeared Hannibal Gisco would not get the benefit of a private ruling.
“If all parties are prepared?” Batnoam asked. Sikar flicked a wrist to signal the question was unnecessary. A frail man beside Hannibal Gisco looked up as if surprised by the inquiry. The magistrate noted the confused expression and spoke directly to the man. “Counselor Yehom. We are about to proceed. Is the defendant ready?”
Yehom leaned into Hannibal’s shoulder and whispered. To reach the Admiral’s ear required an undignified rise and stoop. The counsel for the defense settled for speaking into the taller man’s arm.
“We are not,” Yehom informed the Admiral. “You haven’t given me anything in your defense. As a matter of fact, you haven’t said anything.”
Hannibal turned his head, tilted it downward, and stared into his lawyer’s face. As he had done since returning from Sicily when Yehom appeared at the door to his city house, Gisco did not say anything to the counsel. In frustration, Yehom complained to Urumi Ahinadab, who hired him to defend the man who saved his little brother’s life. Fleet Lieutenant Ahinadab’s older sibling responded to the report about Gisco’s uncooperative nature by doubling the legal fee. Hannibal Gisco smiled at the slight man before returning his gaze to the magistrate.
“We are prepared,” Yehom affirmed with a not too positive tone. Then he peered at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye and announced. “The defendant pleads not guilty.”
“This isn’t a criminal case,” Batnoam informed the counsel. “The facts aren’t in dispute. It’s the motivation and competency that are to be decided.”
“That’s what I meant, magistrate,” Yehom said to the fleet magistrate but he was looking at the 3-man panel. “The honorable Admiral Hannibal Gisco has a record of extraordinary service to Qart Hadasht. His every motive is for the good of the Empire. Thus, he is innocent of any negative charges.”
“Magistrate, I must protest,” Sikar stated. “Counsel for the Defense is testifying for the Admiral.”
The room fell silent as the audience listened for the magistrate’s reaction.
“I agree. Master Yehom, there will be time for opening remarks after the government has presented the facts,” Batnoam instructed. “For now, please abstain from extraneous testimony.”
“I apologize to the tribunal,” Yehom remarked. “But when you represent a hero of the Empire, a man who had defended the city by placing his life in peril time and time again…”
“Magistrate, please,” Prosecutor Sikar exploded. He tossed both arms in the air to emphasize his annoyance. “Counsel is at it again.”
“I am sorry for my over exuberance,” Yehom confessed. “It’s just I am overwhelmed by my association with the hero, Admiral Hannibal Gisco.”
Sikar dropped his arms so rapidly, his hands slapped loudly on his thighs. In the quiet conference room, the noise displayed pettiness and weakness on the part of the government prosecutor.
***
Batnoam climbed to his feet and raised his arms towards the ceiling.
“May the God Melqart grant us the strength to reach an unbiased decision,” the fleet magistrate prayed. “And may his consort, the Goddess Tanit bless us with the tactics to battle untruths and false hearts.”
He fell silent as if to allow the invocation a few moments to reach the gods. Or for the gravity of the occasion to settle over the people in the conference room. Then he lowered both arms and pointed one hand at Sikar and the other at Yehom.
“The struggle begins,” Batnoam declared. He took his seat and asked. “What are the charges against Hannibal Gisco?”
Sikar shuffled several pieces of parchment as if trying to decide which was the most important. It was an act. The government prosecutor knew exactly where to start his presentation.
“Forty-four ships-of-war lost, thirteen sunk,” Sikar growled as if he took personal affront at the damages. “Thirty quinqueremes and triremes captured. Plus, one septireme, the flagship of an inept commander taken intact.”
“I have a question,” Yehom interrupted. Without waiting for permission, he added. “I have made an intense study of the Qart Hadasht military. No where is inept a rank. Can the government prosecutor please give me a definition?”
“Yes. Inept is the man sitting next to you,” Sikar announced. He smiled at the small victory of a second chance to tag Hannibal with the negative phrase.
The defense counsel raised a hand and stroked his thin, unadorned beard.
“I don’t understand. Navy command appointed an inept man as an Admiral?” Yehom questioned. “Wasn’t it known before he was made Admiral of the Sicily fleet? What kind of men pick inept men?”
“Naval command is not on trial here,” Sikar responded.
“I didn’t think they were,” Yehom assured him. “It was you who called the Navy inept. Is that the government’s position or is the animosity held by you, personal?”
“I don’t think the navy is inept,” Sikar insisted.
The counsel for the defense got a disgusted look on his face.
“Please continue,” Yehom urged. Then before the prosecutor could say anything, the counsel said. “I think it’s horrible to accuse the Navy of being inept.”
Sikar shuffled the parchments as he fought to collect himself and get his temper under control. It took long enough that the panel and the people in the conference room began to think of the government prosecutor as being inept.
“The case against Hannibal Gisco extends beyond material losses,” Sikar said getting back to the charges. “Ten thousand rowers, soldiers, navigators, and sailors are gone. A hundred years’ worth of training and experience drained from our fleet. Three thousand captured, and a horrendous seven thousand were killed. All because of the incompetence of one man. The fleet’s commander.”
When Sikar finished, he held out his hands almost defensively and stared at Yehom. The defense counsel ignored him. Flustered at the lack of an attack or an interruption, the government prosecutor went back to shuffling his parchments.
“How well trained?” Yehom asked.
“What?” Sikar demanded.
“I was just wondering how well trained the men were?” the counsel asked. “I mean, they wer
e killed or captured.”
“I just said they had cumulative training worth a hundred years,” Sikar insisted. “What didn’t you understand?”
“Ten thousand men. A hundred years,” Yehom remarked. “Thirty-six days of training? The Navy sent a fleet with crews with just over a month’s experience?”
“No, no. Some of those crews had years of training,” Sikar related. “They were the finest rowers and sailors on earth.”
“The finest?” Yehom inquired. “And how many of those ships-of-war did Admiral Gisco personally Captain?”
“None,” Sikar answered. “But they were guided by an in…, incompetent officer.”
“So, if I am to understand, the most experienced navy in the world,” the defense counsel surmised. “rowed away from their Admiral and forgot all of their training?”
“Of course not,” Sikar barked. “They were put in untenable positions by Hannibal Gisco.”
“He took their oars and dismantled the bronze rams?” Yehom listed. “I’m not sure where you are finding fault.”
“If you would stop interrupting me,” Sikar whined. “I will get to the charges.”
“Pardon me,” the defense counsel implored. Then as if he had the authority to grant it, Yehom urged. “Go right ahead.”
The government prosecutor went back to shuffling the pieces of parchment. But this time, it wasn’t an act, he had forgotten his place and needed to consult his notes.
“Hannibal Gisco was instrumental in the destruction of an Empire fleet,” Sikar explained. “In actions against the Republic of Rome, he willfully sent the Qart Hadasht fleet into combat against a superior force. He…”
“Point of clarity, Magistrate,” Yehom called out while half rising from his chair. Bent over with a hand on his lower back, the counsel’s position seemed almost painful as if he had a bad spine.
His was obviously distressed. Yet his commitment to defending his client, drew admiring looks from the audience and the naval panel.
“What point?” Batnoam questioned.
Unjust Sacrifice Page 24