Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 1

by J. Clifton Slater

  “Good morning, Centurion Laurens,” Cephas said as he saluted. “Any orders?”

  “Illyrian pirates have been ravishing the coast for years,” Laurens offered. “The only thing stopping them from taking over a seaport, like the Sons of Mars did to Messina, is the Legion. This is the first time in recent memory they were bold enough to attack a major garrison. If they did it once, they may do it again. Keep your men on their toes. Dismissed.”

  As the squad leaders walked away, Laurens held up a hand to stop Cephas.

  “Corporal. I didn’t want to worry the men. But you should know,” the Centurion said. “Reports from Rhegium state that Qart Hadasht may be behind the Illyrians’ aggressive posture. They didn’t say what the Empire is after but I can guess. They want Bovesia. From here, they’ll control the south entrance to the Messina Straits, all shipping for fifty miles up the coast, and transports from the west. It’s a valuable piece of real-estate for the Empire. And, Corporal...”

  “Sir?” asked Cephas.

  “They can’t have it,” Laurens stated.

  “No, sir. We’ll be ready for them,” Cephas assured the infantry officer.

  “I’m counting on you,” the Centurion said. “I’d like to have our Optio and three more squads of Legionaries, but I don’t. Luckily for the Republic, and me, I have you. Dismissed.”

  Cephas saluted, spun on his heels and marched away. The last three weeks had been a grind. Not only was he balancing the Century’s books and the Republic’s fees, he was the Century’s acting Optio. He’d been feeling the pressure until the words from the Centurion. Now, he had a spring in his step, and he mumbled. “Bring on the Illyrian pirates.”

  Then he remembered the fighting last week and how his command had nearly been overrun. He deflated a little and prayed to Clementia for mercy from his utterance.

  Unfortunately for the overworked Tesserarius, Mendacius heard his prayer. The God of trickery responded by twisting the plea to Clementia for mercy.

  From the watch tower, the trumpet blared and everyone in Bovesia froze in place and listened.

  Chapter 46 – Any Less Would Be Insulting

  From high overhead, the Legionary on the trumpet let out two long blasts. A merchant ship was inbound. The town relaxed. Then, the horn sounded three long notes. No one panicked. One foreign warship posed no threat for the Legion garrison. When the trumpet followed the foreign warship warning with two more three-note announcements, merchants closed up shops, citizens gathered valuables, and everyone crowded the steps. Soon the plaza on Bovesia’s third level resembled a street carnival; without the festive attitude.

  The inbound merchant ship, under full sail, didn’t slow. She rammed the beach and the squad of Legionaries on the lower level heard the keel snap. Her passengers were tossed forward and one sailor flew over the bow and crashed on the gravel of the shoreline. Ramps dropped and four large men carrying a huge chest rushed to the beach. Hastily following them, a swarthy man in an ornate robe scurried off the ship. Next off came a man in billowing pants. He had to look around a stack of scrolls, cradled in his arms, to navigate the ramp.

  “I will see the man in charge,” the robed dignitary demanded in a broken accent.

  The squad leader selected a Legionary to guide the foreign party. As they started up the steps, the merchant ship’s crew strolled down the ramps. After walking around their broken boat, they too took the steps to the upper level.

  ***

  “What have we got, Tesserarius?” Centurion Laurens asked as he rushed from between buildings.

  “They look Egyptian, at least their clothing is, sir,” Cephas replied. “And three warships. You can just see the tops of their sails on the horizon.”

  “They seem to be converging from three directions,” Laurens observed. “There’s only one reason for that and it’s not good.”

  “No, sir. It’s not good,” replied Cephas. “They were herding the merchant ship to Bovesia.”

  In short order, the warships rowed close enough to be recognizable as an Illyrian biremes. The garrison of eighty-six Legionaries, of which seventy were heavy infantry, one a Tesserarius, and another a Centurion watched as the ships drew near the beach. On those ships were roughly three hundred and sixty rowers, plus an unknown number of archers and warriors from the Kingdom of Illyria.

  “I’d guess four hundred,” offered Centurion Laurens.

  “Give or take a few squads,” Cephas said then added. “Any less and it would be insulting.”

  The Centurion glanced over at his Corporal before shifting his gaze back to the three warships.

  “Sir, I have to check our placements at the choke points,” Cephas described.

  “Of course. I’ll wait here and speak with our guests,” Laurens said while pointing down at the entourage climbing the steps. “And Corporal, you are correct about the pirates. Any less would be insulting.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cephas said. He saluted before marching away.

  Chapter 47 – Defensive Lines

  Tesserarius Cephas placed one squad of his heavy infantry on the steps at the second level. With two lines of shields, they would hold the choke point. On the building roofs on either side, he placed two squads. If the pirates attempted to climb onto the roofs again, they would meet more than a handful of defenders. After placing another squad in reserve, he sent the seventh back to patrol the garrison grounds. With the garrison set on a high hill and a single goat trail on the north end being the only access, a squad of heavy infantrymen was about the correct level of security. Plus, he would rotate them with one from the plaza defenses later.

  Luckily, he had a senior and a junior medic. They selected a covered porch at the rear of the plaza and commandeered it as the medical triage zone. After selecting two stretcher bearers from the boatmen, Cephas sent the support personnel back to man posts at the garrison. They would maintain the guard if the roving squad was required to defend the town.

  While the Tesserarius organized the infantry, Centurion Laurens greeted the visitors from the wrecked merchant vessel. After a few words and polite curtsies, he escorted the robed man and his party to the Columnae Herculis.

  ‘Let the officer play diplomat,’ thought Tesserarius Cephas as he reexamined his defensive formations.

  ***

  Fortunately, the pirates settled for landing and camping on the beach. The three ships’ Captains erected tents in front of their warships while their crews crowded around campfires close to the tents. The only exception was the Illyrian infantrymen. Each ship carried a squad and these thirty men set up their own camp on the beach at the bottom of the steps.

  For half the day, Cephas strolled from squad to squad as if he didn’t have a care in the world. After checking to be sure the men ate and drank, he would say a few encouraging words before moving to the next squad. Specifically, he repeated an opinion about the pirates: Most were rowers and not professional soldiers. They couldn’t possibly defeat the heavy infantry of the Legion. After the motivational talk, he moved to the next squad. His tour found him standing on the stairs talking with the men posted at the narrow point when a trumpet blast. It sent shivers down everyone’s spine.

  The tower signaled the arrival of another warship. Soon after the trumpet fell silent, the sails of a fourth pirate bireme appeared on the horizon.

  Cephas climbed to the plaza level and marched onto the rooftop of a second level building. All of the Tesserarius’ inspirational words crumbled as the warship backed onto the beach. Rather than set campfires, the one hundred and twenty rowers followed the squad of Illyrian soldiers down the beach to the bottom of the step.

  ***

  Although the Corporal couldn’t hear the words, the pirate’s actions were recognizable. A big man stood on the beach while a team put up a pavilion larger than the tents of the other three ships’ captains.

  Cephas knew he was important, not only from the size of his tent but from the actions of the three Illyrian captains. They marched
from their areas directly to the important man.

  When the four were standing together, the leader began pointing and shaking his finger at the Legionaries manning the steps. The other three shook their heads in response and shrugged as if to say no, or not me, or more likely, not my crew.

  Cephas glanced around for his Centurion. Other than the few times the officer came out to check on the Century’s positioning, he was in a conference with the visitors from the merchant ship. Now with over five hundred combatants clustered on the beach, the Corporal needed the weight of an infantry officer to help calm the Legionaries. Plus, he wanted a second opinion on the argument he’d just witnessed.

  Chapter 48 – Under Water and Under Cover

  Helicaon sat in the back of the leather boat and guided it through the waves. The river was still torrid, and Alerio felt every jerk, rise, and fall as the Spartan guided the small boat down the fast-flowing river.

  “How far to Bovesia?” Alerio asked as he turned his head to look at the Spartan.

  “Not long in this soup,” replied Helicaon. “It’ll calm down where the river widens.”

  ***

  They bounced and swayed until the cliffs below the garrison came into view. Then, as if they navigated a different river, the current slowed. Where mudflats had been before the flood, now the far edge of the water stretched almost to the fishing village. Farther in the distance, where the Kaikinos joined the Ionian, the normally gentle flow was a churning and rolling mass of fresh water tumbling into the salty sea.

  Helicaon guided the boat to the pier and Alerio stepped from the boat directly onto the wood of the dock.

  “Hold the boat,” ordered Helicaon as he reached out a hand to hold the craft steady.

  Once Alerio had a firm grip, the old Spartan joined him on the platform. Together, they lifted the leather boat and placed it on the pier.

  “Where are the patrol boats?” Alerio wondered out loud.

  “Probably on Bova Beach,” offered Helicaon. “They’re too big to easily hoist out of the flood water.”

  Alerio slung his pack over his shoulder and along with Helicaon, they started up the ramps.

  “Gladius instructor,” one of the boat handlers at the top greeted him. “If I were you, I’d get back in the boat and paddle away.”

  “Why? Is it your night to cook?” Alerio teased back.

  “No, Lance Corporal. It’s the ten thousand Illyrians on the beach,” the Private dropped his voice to stress his point. “They’re everywhere.”

  Alerio glanced over the Legionary’s shoulder and scanned the Legion Garrison. A roving patrol walked casually along the perimeter and men stood post at guard positions. That looked normal, but, a second glance revealed no other personnel in the camp.

  After pulling his dual rig from the pack, Alerio tossed the bag to the ground.

  “Keep an eye on that for me,” he said as his arms slid into the rig.

  Once the two gladii hilts settled on his upper back, Alerio sprinted for Bovesia. In his mind, he envisioned a battle with pirates flowing over the rooftops and up the stairs with a thin rank of infantrymen on the plaza fighting to hold back the pirates. He hit the path and made short work of the incline. He didn’t break stride until he reached the back of the buildings. No sounds of gladii clashing or the screams of dying men carried from the plaza. At the mouth of the alleyway, he stopped.

  A few infantrymen stood sentry on the rooftops and on the stairs, while their squad mates lay napping, or squatting around cooking pots. On either end of the plaza, citizens and merchants sat in groups talking excitedly. There was no carnage.

  Alerio strolled to the center of the plaza searching for Centurion Laurens. He didn’t see the officer, but he did spot Corporal Cephas. The Tesserarius stood staring down at Bova Beach. Turning to the shops, Alerio peered at the groups of civilians still looking for the Century’s officer.

  Hyllus stood on the porch of the Columnae Herculis. When he spotted Alerio, the big Athenian waved in greeting. Each table on the diner’s porch was full of people leisurely drinking vino. The Centurion wasn’t among them. Alerio did recognize one familiar face.

  Pholus, the vendor of excellent beer, sat at the last table with a seat facing the plaza. He lifted his clay mug in salute. Alerio nodded at the vendor, spun, and walked to the other side of the plaza. There, he continued his search for the infantry officer.

  When Alerio reached the end of the level and his patience, he decided to speak with the Corporal and let him pass along the report to the officer. As he turned, he noticed Pholus sauntering towards the Legionary sentries.

  It was the first time he’s seen Pholus walk any distance. The beer vendor didn’t stroll, he marched, and the strap marks on his lower legs, the type made by wearing military boots, were more pronounced in the afternoon light.

  Pholus peered between two legion shields. After violently shaking his head at what he saw on Bova Beach, the vendor turned slowly and tilted his face upward. At first, Alerio thought the man was checking the weather. But, Pholus didn’t search the sky for thunderheads. He seemed more focused on the watch tower.

  “Corporal Cephas. A word,” called out Centurion Laurens as he emerged from the Columnae Herculis. He left the porch of the restaurant and started across the plaza.

  The Tesserarius turned and took two steps towards his commander. Suddenly, Pholus ran at the Legion officer. Cephas shouted a warning but the officer was slow to react. Before he recognized the danger, Pholus arrived at the Centurion’s side holding a knife.

  Twice, the long blade of the sica pierced the Centurion’s abdomen. On the third thrust, Pholus left the hilt protruding from the bleeding wound. Vital organs deep inside Laurens shutdown from the trauma and the Centurion died before Pholus reached the sentries on the roof.

  He shoved aside the shields, made it to the edge of the roof, then paused to look down to judge the distance.

  “Sergeant Pholus,” cried out Alerio.

  The vendor slowly lifted his head and turned towards Lance Corporal Sisera. A smile came to his face. He slammed a fist into his chest in a salute before leaping out of sight. The next view of Sergeant Pholus of the Syracusan Raiders was him skipping down the stairs to the lowest plaza.

  “A beer vendor. What a great cover for a Syracuse Raider NCO renowned for his beer,” Alerio chastised himself while sprinting to join Cephas. “I should have put it together.”

  Centurion Laurens was rolled onto a stretcher and the bearers carried him to the medical area. The senior medic frowned at Cephas as he scooped the Centurion’s helmet from the pavers.

  “Like it or not Corporal, you are now the acting Centurion,” the medic stated as he brushed the dirt off the horsehair comb that ran across the top of the helmet. He offered the helmet to Cephas and added. “May Mars help us. But, most of all, may the God of war help you.”

  With those words reverberating in Cephas’ ears, the medic went to check on the infantrymen. Cephas stood gripping the officer’s helmet between his hands. Alerio waited until the medic was out of hearing range before whispering.

  “Commander. Are there really ten thousand pirates on the beach?” Alerio asked.

  “Not near that many. Only about five hundred and twenty-five,” Cephas assured him. Then he stopped and asked in puzzlement. “Commander?”

  “Garrison Commander. We can’t have a Tesserarius running a battle,” explained Alerio. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

  “No matter how short lived,” Cephas mumbled. Then, he perked up and looked around to see who could have heard his comment. Seeing no one except Lance Corporal Sisera, he asked. “How was your trip to Passomasseria? Did you learn anything.”

  “Pholus is a Sergeant in the Syracuse army. He has three squads stashed in the hills north of here,” stated Alerio by pointing to the Captains on the beach. “You’ve got an enemy force to your rear. And speaking of Pholus, he noticed something on the beach that got him upset. Then he eyeballed the towe
r before stabbing Centurion Laurens. Any idea of what caused his reaction?”

  “Maybe it was the inaction of the pirates,” Cephas offered. He began to walk away with the Centurion’s helmet tucked under his arm.

  “Commander. If you please,” Alerio suggested while pointing at Cephas’ Legion helmet. “The men need to know who is in charge. If they sense weakness in their command structure, you’ll have a mutiny on your hands. Besides, you’ll need to fill in your chain of command and the helmet will identify you to the infantrymen and the civilians.”

  Cephas reached up and hooked a thumb under the brim of his Legion helmet. After peeling it off, he replaced it with the Centurion’s head gear.

  “Squad leaders. On me,” he called out before turning to Alerio. “Where do you fit into my chain of command, Lance Corporal Sisera?”

  “I don’t really know your men or the Decani, so make me a Tribune,” suggested Alerio.

  “Are you that useless?” inquired Cephas.

  By then, six confused Lance Corporals had arrived.

  “Commander Cephas. Permission to inspect the garrison perimeter, sir?” Alerio asked.

  “Granted,” Cephas said realizing Alerio had announced his title and new responsibilities to the squad leaders.

  “Thank you, sir,” Alerio said while rendering a cross chest salute.

  Cephas returned the salute and before he could open his mouth, First Squad’s Lance Corporal asked a question.

  “Commander Cephas. What’s the plan, sir?” the Decanus inquired.

  All the Legionaries present witnessed the salute, and those nearby heard the squad leader’s use of the title. As if Averruncus’ hand had passed over the plaza, the tension at witnessing the death of their infantry officer faded. Although Illyrian pirates still threatened to attack; the God who prevents calamity along with the installation of Cephas as the Garrison Commander averted a disaster. The Legion the infantrymen had a new leader. One they trusted.