Death Caller (Clay Warrior Stories Book 13) Read online

  “If the battle at the fort is going badly,” Alerio responded, “he would need the Second. Have you seen anything for my left side?”

  “No signals or flags for your half maniple, Tribune,” Naulum assured Alerio.

  ***

  Qart Hadasht General Hanno observed the five Republic warships rowing around the bay at Tharros. If most of his fleet had not been sunk or captured, he would order the warships attacked. As it was, the General had only a few ships-of-war at his disposal. What he did have were five thousand mercenaries.

  “Major Vinzenz you were correct,” Hanno complimented the Noricum commander. “The Republic assumed the fleet was my major force.”

  “Can we begin, sir?” Vinzenz inquired. “My Celts want revenge.”

  “As do I, Major, as do I,” Hanno reassured him.

  They ducked back into the tree lines and walked away from the northern edge of the bay.

  “General,” a man called from a treetop. “We have sighted an arrow from the fort.”

  “Major Vinzenz, you and your Noricums may take the field of battle,” Hanno instructed.

  The Celtic commander jogged to a broad trail. In triple lines, his two Companies of infantry waited. Behind them, other mercenary units filled the road.

  “Noricums, move fast and strike hard,” Vinzenz urged.

  Without warning, the Major jogged away. The sudden action by their commander caught the Celts off guard. They raced after Vinzenz without thinking about the danger on the other side of the bay.

  Behind them, equally surprised, but not as enthusiastic, three thousand Empire soldiers collected themselves before jogging after the Noricums.

  The disparity in attitudes was reflected in a noticeable gap that opened between the trailing units and the Celtic Companies.

  ***

  Sors' Talisman rowed beyond the Legion pickets.

  “Was that an arrow?” Dormivi asked.

  “An arrow? From where, First Principale?” Naulum inquired.

  “From behind the fort,” Dormivi replied. “But it happened so fast I wasn’t sure if it was a bird or an arrow with long black feathers.”

  “Tribune Sisera, did you see an arrow?”

  “No, Centurion,” Alerio responded. “I was looking away from the stockade poles.”

  As if he could figure out the Battle Commander’s reasoning, Alerio continued to study the shoreline and the Legionaries sitting on the beach. To the squad leaders’ credit, each squad had two men standing guard while the rest lounged. Alerio pulled his eyes away from the men when the warship turned from the shore. He could not see the far side of the bay, only the horizon and blurry landscape beyond it. But to the north, the white sandy beach, and green trees were clearly in view.

  Dormivi’s description drifted through Alerio’s mind, ‘A bird or an arrow with long black feathers.’

  In the trees to the north, birds lifted into the sky and flew away. Then another flock, further from the first zoomed into the air. When a third group of birds took flight, Alerio thought of Gabriella DeMarco. Only because thinking of her beauty was pleasant. But also, it led him to connect with her logically minded brother.

  ‘Two points is a line,’ Alerio remembered Nicholas saying. ‘Three points on a straight line is a direction.’

  “Ship's Centurion Naulum, signal the fleet,” Alerio requested. “The left side, Second Maniple is landing.”

  “Why?” Naulum inquired. “And weren’t you ordered to wait in reserve?”

  “There is a large force moving through the trees to our north,” Alerio told him.

  “First Principale Dormivi, flag the rest of the squadron and the fleet, we are landing,” Naulum ordered. It was after giving the instructions that he asked. “How do you know a force is there, Tribune Sisera?”

  “It was Dormivi’s remark and a flock of birds,” Alerio informed him. Then to the Century and a half being transported on Sors' Talisman, he instructed. “Get up, armor up, and prepare yourself for glory.”

  A few men prayed, others joked, most talked, and some remained quiet keeping their own counsel. Each Legionary bringing himself up to a mental and an emotional peak. Glory meant someone would die. In infantry training, the Legionaries were taught that you needed a winning attitude to be sure it was the enemy who died. They donned sections of armor as the quinquereme came about and headed towards the men on the beach.

  ***

  The First Maniple separated the edges of their shields and spread the formation.

  “First rank, move forward,” the Centurions ordered. “Move slow so the men climbing the ditches can keep up.”

  Four hundred and eighty Legionaries stepped off the line. In front of several sections, flat trails offered good footing. But many of the Centuries traversed down the slopes and into ditches.

  “Arrow,” a Tribune announced.

  “Sir, do you mean arrows?” a combat officer questioned.

  “No, Centurion,” the staff officer corrected. “Just one arrow loosed from behind the fort. I don’t know what it means.”

  At the bottom of the ditches a linen and branch framework, hidden under a light coating of dirt, gave way. Legionaries tripped as the ground dropped from under their feet. Sharpened spikes ripped skin or skewed deeply into calf muscles or through the leather of their hobnailed boots. During the cries of pain, shouts of shock, and begging for help, the gates of the stockade fort opened.

  Iberian infantry ran out in columns of six. Dividing into pairs, the files raced along the flat trails. If the veterans of the Third or the experienced Legionaries of the Second Maniple faced the threat, they would have collapsed their line and met the enemy on the pathways. But the inexperienced First Maniple hesitated.

  The Iberians struck the unprepared combat lines and butchered young, untested Legionaries.

  Chapter 27 – Good Steel, Better Tactics

  Alerio strapped on his armor and tugged the helmet over his head. When the keel of the warship touched the beach, Tribune Sisera jumped. Splashing through the shallows, he ran to Pashalis and consulted with his senior Centurion. After giving instructions, Alerio sprinted by the squads guarding the beach.

  “Trouble is coming from the north,” he shouted to them as he ran into the woods.

  Centurion Pashalis made a circle in the air with his hand. The five other Centurions from Second Maniple’s left side moved quickly to the experienced combat officer.

  “We have a large Qart Hadasht force moving from the north,” he told them. “Tribune Sisera is going to warn the right side.”

  “The land is too wide and the trees too thick for a single combat line?” another officer remarked. “What’s the plan?”

  “We are going with Century fighting squares,” Pashalis replied. “Let’s start with the fourteenth on this beach. You will also guard the ships. The fifteenth will be on your left and the rest in order up till we link up with elements of the right side.”

  “The fourteenth is ready, Centurion,” the combat officer assured him.

  “I hope you are,” Pashalis said even though he worried about his weakest Century.

  ***

  Alerio reached the center of the road and found his counterpart standing by himself.

  “Centurion Siglum, you have company coming,” Alerio informed him. “From the looks of it, a large force stretching back a quarter of a mile.”

  “I thought we were reserves,” the acting Tribune remarked. “Now the First Maniple has been attacked and I had to send in four Centuries to restore order.”

  “What? You did what?” Alerio asked. “Where is Third Maniple?”

  “Still afloat,” Siglum replied. “What am I supposed to do with only two Centuries?”

  “You are going to go to the beach and tell the Senior Tribune that we are about to be overrun,” Alerio replied. “I’m going to reposition our Legionaries.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Centurion acknowledged.

  Then the staff officers for the Second Man
iple ran for the beaches. One to the eastern shoreline and the other to the western side.

  ***

  The command staff resembled a debating circle. No one was doing anything, but everyone of the command staff was talking at the same time.

  “Senior Tribune Vergilius, we are about to get overrun,” Siglum announced when he reached the gaggle of officers.

  “You mean the First Maniple is being overrun,” Vergilius corrected.

  “No, sir. Tribune Sisera said there are Empire forces coming from the north,” Siglum insisted.

  “What is Sisera doing on shore?” the Senior Tribune questioned.

  “Sir, obviously, he is warning us about an attack,” Siglum replied.

  “Vergilius, what is going on?” Battle Commander Damocles asked.

  He walked away from a conference with his planning section. As he moved, members of the First Century shifted to keep him in a protective pocket.

  “Colonel, Sisera claims we have Qart Hadasht reinforcements coming from the north,” Vergilius replied.

  “Planning tells me it is easier to load everyone up and row away. I’ve already suggested the General depart,” Damocles stated. His reference to suggesting something to the Consul/General was a polite way of saying he had already put Paterculus on a warship. It would be an unusual politician who ignored his chosen military commander’s advice. “Leaving is a lot faster than bringing in Third Maniple and fighting it out. Ideas, gentlemen?”

  “But we don’t know if the Empire has enough forces at Tharros to defeat us,” a supply officer offered. “We could win the battle.”

  “Runners tell me the First Maniples in a melee slug fest,” the Battle Command responded, “and elements of the Second are attempting to extract them. Do we fight or do we leave?”

  “A quarter of a mile,” Siglum commented.

  “What’s that Centurion?” Colonel Damocles asked.

  “Tribune Sisera said the enemy column stretched out for a quarter of a mile,” Siglum explained. “In my experience that is either one thousand warriors. Or two, or even three thousand, depending on the number of files in their formation.”

  “I think that settles it,” Damocles exclaimed. “Disengage the First and Second, get them boarded, and launched.”

  ***

  Alerio reached the beach and marched up to Pashalis.

  “Centurion, we have an issue,” Alerio stated.

  “It’s combat, Tribune,” the senior Centurion of the maniple informed Alerio. “If we don’t have problems, it isn’t a fight.”

  “Good point,” Alerio confirmed. “How about this? Third Maniple is out on the ships. And apparently the First is in trouble as they sent in four Centuries of the Second to help.”

  “Sir, we are in deep trouble,” Pashalis projected. “I believe…”

  A runner broke from the tree line. He glanced up and down the beach before locating Alerio and Pashalis. Once identified, he headed directly for the Centurion and the Tribune.

  “Two Companies of Empire soldiers just broke through our lines,” he reported. “The Colonel wants the Second to go in and pull the First out.”

  “Tell the Battle Commander we are moving,” Alerio confirmed.

  Pashalis took a step in the direction of the nearest Century.

  Alerio grabbed his arm, “Hold on a moment, Centurion.”

  “I was going to have the Centuries break their formations,” Pashalis told Alerio.

  “The signs I saw were bigger than two units could make if they tried,” Alerio proposed. “I think there are more Qart Hadasht forces on the way.”

  “And if the Second is withdrawing with wounded and guarding the First Maniple,” Pashalis summed up the problem, “we will be attacked from behind. But we have been ordered to go in. Is there an alternative, Tribune?”

  “We have extra shields and javelins on the ships, don’t we?” Alerio asked.

  “We do,” Pashalis said.

  “Take our Centuries and go save the First,” Alerio instructed. “But I’m keeping two squads from the fourteenth for a secondary mission.”

  “Yes, sir,” Pashalis acknowledged. “You’ll be along, afterward?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Alerio replied. “Now go and may Clementia go with you.”

  “I don’t need the Goddess of Mercy and Clemency,” Pashalis corrected the sentiment. “Your Goddess Nenia is the one we need for this kind of work.”

  “I’ll ask her to look over your shoulder and guide your gladius,” Alerio promised.

  ***

  Centurion Pashalis formed his four hundred and seventy infantrymen into a loose double attack line. He was down ten Legionaries with five wounded and resting on the warships and five others buried at Sulci Bay. They jogged up the road and tensed when the sounds of metal slamming together and men shouting war cries carried to them.

  “Straighten your lines and tighten those shields,” he barked as the six Centuries reached the fighting.

  His notification was unnecessary for the experienced Legionaries of Second Maniple. But the reassuring voice of command helped to steady their nerves. And firming up resolve was needed as they encountered a scene of madness out of a battle mural.

  Men hung on the lips of ditches, some with obvious wounds and others with agony etched on their faces. On the flat, others crawled away from the fighting. Some to nurse their wounds and others to find a peaceful place to die.

  The fighting coagulated around small clusters of Legionaries. Quite a few limped with odd injuries to their lower legs. Iberian and Noricum soldiers surrounded each Legion fighting circle.

  “Let’s give the stragglers a home,” Pashalis remarked. Aware that more Empire units were coming from behind him, he directed. “Face left and double time to the flank.”

  Both lines faced left and ran in a curved arc until they jogged down the side of the battle site. Before any of the Qart Hadasht soldiers could hit their flank, Pashalis called for a stop to the maneuvering.

  “Second Maniple, halt,” he shouted. His command voice loud enough that the combat officers and NCOs repeating his order were redundant. “Face right and draw.”

  Four hundred and seventy gladii slipped from their sheaths. Tucked in behind the big shields, the enraged men of the Centuries waited to be unleashed on the soldiers. Their anger rose from seeing the mutilation of the Legions First Maniple. Every man remembered being young and inexperienced. It was that memory driving their emotions when Centurion Pashalis uncaged the infantry.

  “Forward,” he said.

  “Rah!” the infantrymen bellowed in response.

  Two ranks of shields with steel blades powered by muscle and pride stalked onto the battlefield.

  ***

  The arrival of an intact Legion unit did not escape notice. Major Vinzenz waved at one of his Captains and indicated the Legionaries.

  “The Republic is offering us more victims,” the Captain boasted.

  “Do not take them lightly,” Vinzenz warned. “Assemble your Company and as many Iberians as you can. We need to delay that formation.”

  “We will cut through them like butter,” the Captain stated. “And butcher them like we have the others.”

  “Half the others, as you call them, are very young,” the Major pointed out. “Follow orders. Hold the formation until reinforcements arrive.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Captain responded halfheartedly. “We will hold them.”

  In a shorter time than the mayhem would seem to allow, the Captain collected another hundred Iberians to fuse with the hundred soldiers of his Company.

  “When you engage the Legionaries,” the Captain instructed the Lieutenants after a furtive glance to be sure the Major was occupied, “carve holes in their lines. I want them broken.”

  The Empire mercenaries rushed to throw themselves on the front line of the Second Maniple’s left side.

  ***

  Good Noric steel, when used properly in a controlled formation, was a formidab
le tool. However, when swung wildly by warriors expecting to charge through shields and over Legionaries, the blades offered limited advantage.

  “Brace,” Pashalis instructed.

  Locking the edges of their shields together, the double line of Legionaries tensed and leaned slightly forward. Moments later, the Noricum and Iberian mercenaries stacked up in front of the shields. Before they could disengage…

  “Advance, advance, advance,” Centurion Pashalis commanded.

  Even as the first, short and brief shove of the shields barely moved the Empire soldiers, the officers and NCOs of the Centuries repeated the orders. “Advance, advance, advance!”

  On the next thrust of the Legion shields, the wounded and shocked mercenaries fell away further reducing the mass of the attack.

  “Advance, Advance, advance.”

  When the shields shot forward and bodily moved the remaining Iberians and Noricums, the gladii had room for full powered stabs.

  “Forward stomp, forward stomp,” Centurion Pashalis directed.

  In unison, the left feet of the Legionaries lifted and were placed next to wounded mercenaries. The next step took their right feet high before the bottoms of their hobnailed boots stomped and crushed the Empire soldiers. Again, they repeated the pace forward, allowing another stomping by the second rank.

  “Brush them off and give them a home,” Pashalis encouraged.

  As the Legion trained, isolated infantrymen were taught to migrate to a larger fighting group. Designed to rebuild a shield wall and create order out of chaos, the maneuver was drilled into every man. Soon, dispersed clusters of Legionaries began fighting their way towards Centurion Pashalis and the double row of shields.

  One of the knots of Legionaries brought acting Tribune Siglum behind the Legion line.

  “Orders, sir?” Pashalis asked.

  “Centurion, we charged in and began defending the First Maniple,” Siglum described. “Then the Noricums ran up our spine and kicked us in the head on the way by.”

  “I don’t understand, acting Tribune?” Pashalis questioned.

  “Centurion Pashalis, you are doing a stellar job,” Siglum responded. “Keep doing it. Where do you want me?”