Fortune Reigns Page 14

  “Not good form for clandestine maneuvers,” observed the officer.

  “It doesn’t matter,” replied Carnifex. “Do you really think we’ll make it over the wall before six thousand mercenaries wake up?”

  “Not a chance Sanctus,” agreed the Velites’ officer.

  They walked onward, the night raced towards dawn and the nine Centuries stumbled through the dark as they followed.

  ***

  A new shape appeared in the dark and the Velites’ Centurion reached out and stopped Carnifex.

  “My line is twenty-four paces from here,” he advised.

  “Centurion of the First and Second Centuries stand here and put the first maniple online,” ordered Carnifex. “Pass the rest through.”

  He stood and waited until the Eighth Squad of the Third Century was guided off to the side. When the Centurion of the Eleventh Century reached the gap, he fell in and marched the line officer six paces before stopping.

  “Stand here and direct the second maniple to their line,” he instructed. “Pass the rest through.”

  Again, he stood and waited. When the Eight of the Thirteenth turned to get online, Carnifex took the arm of the Twenty-Fifth’s Centurion and walked him six more paces.

  “Third maniple line forms here,” he directed.

  The Velites’ officer moved away and vanished into the night.

  Although Centurion Sanctus Carnifex couldn’t see, he visualized three ranks of Legionaries. Each rank had two hundred forty shields stretching from the marshland across the grassy plain to the shore of the Messina Strait. In front of his formation, eighty skirmishers kneeled in the grass. All were waiting for the sky to lighten. So far, there had been no sign the Qart Hadasht sentries were alerted to the presence of the Legionaries. That would change when his assault force attacked the wall.

  “Sanctus. We have a mystery,” the Velites’ officer whispered as he reappeared. “My line near the shore found three dead men.”

  Six lightly armored Legionaries following him came out of the night. Each pair carried a body balanced on their javelins.

  “Who are they?” Carnifex asked.

  “We don’t know. They’re wearing rough woolen clothing,” he replied. “But all three are armed with Legion gladii. It’s too dark to make out their features.”

  “Mercenaries with captured weapons?” ventured Carnifex.

  “All have short haircuts and two are wearing hobnailed boots,” the skirmisher officer replied. “One has on quality sandals.”

  “Have the bodies taken back to Messina,” instructed Carnifex. “Maybe someone there can identify them.”

  The Velites were given instructions and they vanished in the dark.

  “You’ve got a crack,” the line officer informed Carnifex.

  Glancing at the eastern sky, the Centurion saw a light haze identifying the top of the mountains. Although still dark, Carnifex made a decision to commence the assault.

  “Have your skirmishers remove the guards,” Carnifex ordered. “We’re moving forward.”

  ***

  Senior Centurion Valerian stood in torchlight at the northern defenses. When he noticed the skirmishers carrying bodies up the hill, he panicked. If the assault force was already engaged, they had been discovered early and the result would be disastrous.

  “Casualties?” he called to the bearers. “How many?”

  “Just three bodies we found in the field, Senior Centurion,” the lead skirmisher replied.

  “Bring them over here,” Valerian instructed while pulling a torch from the ground. Leaning over, he waved the light in front of the three faces. Then the Senior Centurion instructed. “Take them to headquarters and show them to the First Centurion.”

  The General had moved his staff to the center of Messina and Faustinus wasn’t happy. It was one thing to protect the General on a battlefield where he could see the enemy. Or during trips from the Citadel in daylight. But in the center of a city at night, with different Legionaries arriving and leaving because of the planned attack, his Century was almost overwhelmed with checking each man. While his Century guarded the approaches, the Centurion, Optio, and Tesserarius remained close to General Caudex.

  “First Centurion. You are needed at the north road,” the squad leader of his Third Squad informed him.

  “Isn’t it something you can handle Lance Corporal, or another NCO?” asked Faustinus not wanting to let the General out of his sight.

  “No, sir. We’ve located Senior Tribune Eutropius and our men,” the Legionary replied.

  Faustinus hurried out of the command tent, crossed the open area and stopped where the street and boulevard intersected. After peering at the pale faces of the deceased, the First Centurion pointed at two of his Legionaries and the command tent.

  “Carry Senior Tribune Eutropius to the General,” he ordered. “Give me four to take our men to the Medical tent. We’ll collect them for burial later.”

  First Centurion Faustinus held the tent flap and allowed the Legionaries to enter.

  “What’s this First Centurion,” asked Caudex.

  “We’ve located Tribune Eutropius, General,” he replied. “He was found by the Velites as they got into position for the assault.”

  Appease Caudex walked around the map table and approached the body.

  “Why is the Senior Tribune dressed in workmen’s attire,” he inquired. Then looking down at the body asked. “Maris. What were you doing near the Qart Hadasht lines’?”

  “Sir, we don’t know why he is dressed like that,” Faustinus admitted. “Could he have been trying to emulate Senior Tribune Claudius’ night reconnaissance?”

  General Caudex jerked upright and rested a hand on his chin. After a moment of contemplation, he smiled.

  “Maris died on a secret mission. That makes Maris Eutropius a hero of the Republic,” announced the General. “I’ll see to the commendation and be sure his father is recognized in the Senate.”

  In his private thoughts, Appease Caudex rejoiced. Without the return of his son’s body or a satisfactory story, the Senator could lose the father’s support. However, by singing the son’s praises, he’d keep the elder Eutropius’ support by anointing the son a hero.

  “With your permission, General, we’ll take him to the Medical tent,” suggested Faustinus.

  “Yes. And be sure they pack him in salt for the journey back to the Capital,” instructed Caudex. Then quickly changing topics, he inquired. “What news of the assault?”

  “It’s still dark outside, General,” Faustinus said as he indicated for the Legionaries to lift the Tribune’s body and leave the command tent. Just before he ducked out of the tent, the First Centurion added. “I’m sure you’ll carry the day, sir.”

  “I do believe the Qart Hadasht General will have something to say on the matter,” Caudex replied to the closing flaps.

  Chapter 15 – Dawn and Death

  Legionaries train consistently. They run, jump, drill for immediate responses to commands and vault trenches, mounds, tree trunks, and any other obstacle they might encounter during a battle. The third maniple vaulted the chest-high stone wall and their shields slammed into the unprepared Qart Hadasht guard force. Driving them back, the Legionaries killed and stomped as they annihilated the stunned mercenary units. But all surprise attacks lose the element when the enemy realizes the situation and turns their spears towards the fight.

  Five Legionaries were down. Seven more of the two hundred and forty men, who began the assault, staggered back to the stone wall with debilitating injuries. Pacing behind the shields of the third maniple and the thrusting javelins, the Centuries’ Sergeants, Corporals, and Centurions shouted to their squads.

  “Enthusiasm kills. Lethargy gets you dead,” the Sergeant of the Twenty-fifth Century screamed to be heard over the heavy breathing, grunting, and rattling of javelin tips on enemy shields. “Close the gaps.”

  His words were repeated on the line by the squad leaders and the Left an
d Right Pivot men. Although they seemed to add to the racket and chaos, the words reached and comforted all the members of his three squads. His words, even in the midst of a blade to blade fight to the death, let the Legionaries know their command was intact. With enemy warriors a blade’s length away and their vision restricted by their helmets and infantry shields, the Optio’s voice and forwarded words assured the infantrymen that their line was unbroken.

  On the other end of the Twenty-fifth, the three squads under the Corporal also repeated his words of encouragement and orders to keep their shields tight. While the NCOs controlled three squads each, in the center, their Centurion directed only two squads. Between his words, the line officer glanced back regularly to watch the assault commander.

  Centurion Sanctus Carnifex stood on the stone wall holding an infantry shield he’d taken from a wounded Legionary. High above the fray with legs spread wide, shield swinging to deflect spears and arrows, the Legion’s weapons instructor peered around calmly as if this was a training session. His confidence transferred to the line officers whose inflections reached their NCOs and by their tone spread to the eight squads of each Century. But inside, Carnifex’s mind raced as he weighed his thinning line against the mass of Qart Hadasht soldiers staging behind the engaged mercenaries. Before the wave of professional fighters could form and sweep away the third maniple, the assault commander twisted around and held up two fingers. Then he held up one finger and pointed at the backside of the stone wall.

  “Third maniple. Throw, push, push, draw,” Carnifex bellowed while drawing his own gladius.

  Until this point, the personal duels along the Legion line had been unconnected stabs with javelins and individual blocks with Legion shields.

  “Throw. Push. Push. Draw,” the line officers shouted and the orders were repeated by the NCOs.

  As quick as three hand claps, the orders echoed along the line. Suddenly, over two hundred and twenty-five javelins arched from the Legion side. As they impacted with the rear ranks of Qart Hadasht mercenaries, the ones to the front of their formation got smacked by a coordinated surge of Legion infantry shields.

  The change from individual fighting to a unified thrust shocked the mercenaries. Then a second push drove them back half a step. But they recovered quickly as the rank behind held them up against the power of the moving shields.

  “Advance. Advance. Five steps back,” Carnifex commanded while mimicking a thrust with his shield and a stab with his gladius.

  Again, his orders filtered rapidly to the Legionaries. This time, when the shields shot forward and withdrew, gladius blades stabbed into the Qart Hadasht’s front rank. But this time, the second rank couldn’t hold them up as the mercenaries in the front rank fell from stab wounds. Those on the ground ate hobnailed boot leather as the Legion line stepped into the empty space. Shields powered forward and back, followed by a glint of over two hundred and twenty-five blades thrusting out and pulling back. Then the locked shields of the Legion stepped back from the devastated second rank of mercenaries. An area opened as the Legionaries hurriedly put five paces between the combatants.

  Seeing the mercenaries hesitate from the shock of the advances, Centurion Carnifex ordered, “Back six paces and brace.”

  The third maniple back stepped raggedly and their officers and NCOs screamed at them to straighten their line and lock their shields. By the fourth step, the line solidified into a rail straight entity. On the sixth step, the line stopped and the Legionaries bent their forward legs and flexed their shield arms.

  As with all withdrawals during contact, the issue concerned backing away and giving the enemy room to gain speed as they rushed forward. The Qart Hadasht mercenaries took the advantage and sprinted at the Legion line hoping to bust through and break up the formation.

  “Brace,” Carnifex ordered again as a reminder. He could see the battle was wearing on his less experienced troops. With fatigue, their thrusts weren’t as crisp and their line fell apart until ordered to straighten it. Looking out beyond the mercenaries, he could see units of Qart Hadasht soldiers forming up and marching towards the fight. “Brace. Impact. Advance. Advance.”

  The bravest and fastest mercenaries launched themselves. They hoped to bust through the shields and allow their comrades to flow through and attack the Republic line from the rear.

  “Brace,” echoed through the line as the bodies of the flying mercenaries smashed into the shields. But, Legionaries trained for this. Those hitting the shields high were flipped to the rear and the shields dropped back into place. Behind the line, Sergeants, Corporals, and Centurions rushed over as the tumbling enemy fighters crashed to the ground. One pass hammered their heads to keep them down. Then, the line officers and NCOs backtracked stabbing throats.

  The low flying mercenaries hit and bounced off the shields. Some of them fell to the ground while other staggered back in a daze. As their comrades attempted to avoid trampling their own men, the enemy’s charge faltered.

  “Advance. Advance,” ordered the Centuries’ commanders after the impact. And the solid wall of shields hammered forward and gladii snaked out leaving dead and wounded mercenaries. Hobnailed boots stomped, the shields shot into faces and gladius blades found flesh and then the Legion line locked in place.

  “Back six and brace,” called out Centurion Sanctus Carnifex.

  The line moved unevenly with gaps between shields as they stepped back. Some of the gaps were from inexperience while others were from missing Legionaries. It was time to disengage the third maniple.

  Carnifex twisted around, flashed two fingers, then one finger, indicated throw, and raised his gladius over his head. When the third maniple reached six steps back and braced, the assault commander waved his blade in the air to be sure the Centurions and NCOs saw it.

  “Third maniple. Stand by,” and Carnifex’s words penetrated the hard breathing and foggy minds of the exhausted Legionaries. “Drop!”

  As if the two hundred and fifteen surviving infantrymen, NCOs and officers of the third had their legs cut out from under them, they crumbled to the ground. Shocked at the actions of their enemy, the mercenaries stood looking at the still bodies, shields and bloodied blades. Then, assault commander Sanctus Carnifex dropped his arm.

  From behind the stone wall, second and first maniples stood up, drew back their arms and threw javelins. Two hundred and forty javelins arched into the sky and mercenaries ducked and cringed as the shafts glided over and fell towards the Qart Hadasht ranks. Before the rain of iron tips touched a single mercenary, another two hundred and forty javelins skimmed over third maniple. There was no time for cringing or ducking as the almost flat trajectory of the shafts took the javelins from the hands of second maniple immediately to the bellies, arms, legs, and faces of the Qart Hadasht troops.

  “Third maniple, fall back,” ordered Carnifex before he jumped from the stone wall, sailed over the maniples and landed lightly on the grass. Spinning around, he watched as Centurions, Sergeants, and Corporals stood on the stone wall. For the line officers and NCOs, this was the most dangerous part of a retreat while in contact. But, it was necessary. Delaying their withdrawal showed the infantrymen their leaders had courage and, they cared about every Legionary making it off the line. Once the last Centurions leaped from the stone wall, Carnifex instructed. “First and second maniples, step back twenty paces.”

  ***

  As if the skirmish at dawn had never taken place, silence descended on the narrow slip of land. The mercenaries had not crossed over. In fact, they pulled back from the stone wall. Centurion Sanctus Carnifex prowled behind the maniples keeping an eye on the stone wall as he talked with the Centurions.

  “It was a good workout for the third,” he stated. “If they keep progressing, I can send the rest of you back to Messina.”

  “And have your mentula dragging in the dirt when Qart Hadasht regulars jump that wall,” warned a line officer from the first maniple.

  “Suppose they just go back and have
breakfast?” inquired an officer from the second.

  “Then you’ll be taking your lads over there and kicking over their cooking pots and spilling their camp stew,” Carnifex offered. “But I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  Everyone turned as a mounted man in gold armor rode up and gazed over the wall and across the field.

  “I believe he has on more gold plating then General Caudex,” observed one of the Centurions.

  “I didn’t think that was possible,” another shot back. “Even the staff officers are pretty.”

  Reining up beside the gold armored man, a gaggle of riders in fancy armor crowded around. While their General sat his horse stately, they pointed and gabbed excitedly to each other.

  “Like they’ve never seen a Legionary before,” another Centurion commented.

  “All they have to do is come over that wall and we can introduce them to a few,” suggested a Centurion loudly. “It’ll be fun meeting new people and exploring new cultures. Right, infantry?”

  Laughter came from the center of the maniples and mumbling passed the line officer’s words to all the Legionaries.

  “Centurion. Are you suggesting they might have ill feeling towards us?” asked another Centurion loudly. His voice carried to the center squads and word of mouth assured the line officer’s question traveled through both sides of the maniples. After a moment, he added. “We are but few and they are so many.”

  “I’ll put my heavy infantry against any in the world,” boasted Centurion Carnifex. “Besides, we have a secret weapon. Our third maniple is available.”

  The men in the second chuckled and laughter rippled through the first maniple. Just the thought that the pups would have to save the veterans was beyond comprehension. But Carnifex wasn’t referring to the third’s prowess in battle.

  Two men with bags hanging from their shoulders marched from the direction of Messina and joined the third maniple. Stretcher-bearers carried stretchers to each area as the Medics treated wounded Legionaries. What the Qart Hadasht General and his staff missed were the piles of javelins dumped out of the stretchers and into the tall grass before the wounded were loaded.