Reluctant Siege Read online

  A flight of spears rose from the Syracusan lines and despite their shields, ten of his rowers fell screaming to the ground. Sisera seemed oblivious to the agony along the Messina defensive line.

  Nereus was proud of his boat crews for standing as the enemy advanced. Another flight rose into the air but only five men fell from the barrage of spears. Mumbling rose from his men and a few heads turned to look in his direction.

  Then Lieutenant Sisera leaned forward and spoke to the five Sergeants behind him. Once the NCOs had time to ride to where their men sat, Sisera twisted around and pointed a hand at Nereus. His fingers formed a fist before the arm jerked into the air.

  Captain Nereus looked down at his trumpeter. “Sound the charge!”

  ***

  Half of the Messina irregulars shouted a war cry and ran at the Syracusans. They angled away from the five phalanxes and hit the Syracusan soldiers. Shields clashed, swords fell and men died. Ever relentless, the phalanxes continued their march and the Syracusan soldiers pushed as much as they fought to maintain their place beside the Hoplite formations.

  As half of Messina’s irregulars engaged with the enemy, the other four hundred irregulars stayed in place. Behind them, the squads of heavy infantrymen stood up and jogged to places where the phalanxes would break through Messina’s defenses.

  Nereus ignored the carnage as he, again, waited for Sisera. The Legionary also disregarded the fighting. His focus was the locations of the heavy infantry squads. Not until all ten squads were in place did he raise an arm over his head and circle it in the air.

  “Sound the retreat!” instructed Nereus.

  ***

  At the sound of the trumpet, Messina’s fighters turned and ran. Several were cut down as a cry of victory rose from the Syracusan soldiers. Seeing the enemy routed, they wanted to give chase but they were held to the steady pace of the five phalanxes.

  Like a mob, the irregulars ran to the stationary line. To give authenticity to the defeat, the retreating men broke through Messina’s defensive line and continued to run. It wasn’t until they reached Captain Nereus’ position that they stopped, turned, and formed a new defensive line.

  During the rout, the phalanxes approached the original Messina line.

  “Sergeants. Prepare to split them and kill their soldiers,” shouted Alerio as he held out his arms and pointed at the Lieutenants at the far ends of Messina’s line. When he brought both hands together pointing towards the Syracusans, he ordered, “Execute!”

  Alerio’s squads were stacked in two ranks. With orders from the Sergeants, the squads faced in opposite directions and marched out of the way of the phalanxes. The irregulars stepped back and reformed behind the moving heavy infantrymen. At the ends of the Messina battle line, the other squads also performed the maneuver. As the phalanxes braced to punch their way through the irregulars manning Messina’s defensive line, the line dissolved.

  ***

  On the sides of the phalanxes, Syracusan soldiers went from facing irregulars to battling heavy infantrymen. While they weren’t as efficient as Legionaries, Messina’s infantry kept their ranks straight and their shields tight. Over their shoulders, the irregulars jabbed with their spears. Syracusan soldiers fell under the coordinated attack of the well-formed shield walls. Despite the discipline of the Massina militia, men from both sides of the brutal fighting fell bleeding and wounded to the ground.

  The commanders of the phalanxes noticed the concentrated assault on their soldiers. One by one the Hoplite formations stopped. Before they could break formation and attack individually, Alerio raised his arms and circled it in the air.

  The Messina trumpet blared.

  At the sounding of the retreat, Messina’s heavy infantrymen stepped back. They continued to step until they could safely turnabout and jog away from the Hoplites emerging from the phalanxes. A cheer went up from the Messina fighters.

  After losing soldiers, their momentum, and the integrity of their formations, the Syracusan advance faltered.

  “Lieutenant Sisera. We should go back and finish them,” an infantryman yelled as his squad passed Alerio.

  “Keep moving with your squad,” ordered Alerio. Then he asked, “Break the wall?”

  “I die,” the man said as he checked to both sides to be sure he was aligned with his squad mates.

  Alerio kneed his horse and headed for Nereus. The Captain waited with the survivors of the initial attack at the new defensive line.

  ***

  “We broke their charge,” Nereus announced as Alerio, Frigian and the other Lieutenant reined in their horses.

  Frigian studied the ragged line of Syracusan soldiers interspersed between the solid ranks of Hoplites. “Why don’t they attack?” he asked.

  “They aren’t sure about the skills of our heavy infantry,” Nereus replied. “Our men look professional and move like experienced troops. Even if they aren’t.”

  “Let’s hope they never find out,” Frigian ventured.

  Then a cry came from the battlefield behind the Syracusans. Soldiers were walking among the wounded pulling off helmets and cutting the throats of any living Messina man. Shouting rose from the heavy infantrymen and a few took a step forward.

  “Stay in your ranks,” shouted the Sergeants. “Hold your positions.”

  From the Hoplite ranks in the center, a Greek warrior stepped forward. The Hoplite banged his sword on his shield.

  “Come fight me, pirates,” he challenged. “Is there no one man enough to face me?”

  “Hold! Stay in your ranks,” the Sergeants called as several men began to move.

  “It’s a trick,” Nereus advised his Lieutenants. “When our men are watching the fight, the Syracusans will attack.”

  “And if we don’t do something,” Frigian advised. “Morale will fall and our forces will lose heart.”

  A pair of Syracusan soldiers carried a Messina heavy infantryman to the front of their formation. Once they were in full view of both sides, one held the infantryman while the other ran a blade into the wounded man’s chest. His cry of pain, as the blade was twisted, carried across the battlefield.

  “Stay in your ranks,” bellowed the Sergeants as infantrymen and irregulars shouted out in anger. “Hold your positions!”

  “We’re going to lose them,” suggested Frigian. “Either we retreat behind the city walls or we attack. Simply standing here and waiting for the storm to break will get us all killed.”

  “You know the wall is too short and we don’t have enough men to guard the city,” Nereus responded. “We hold them here or we take to our ships and leave. I, for one, am not ready to surrender Messina.”

  “Then we need to attack,” stated Frigian.

  “Maybe not, Captain,” Alerio said to Nereus. “They want a distraction. I’ll give them one but I need a moment to prepare.”

  “Whatever you need, Lieutenant Sisera,” Nereus assured him.

  ***

  Alerio rode to his two Sergeants, spoke with them before trotting to the squads’ NCO on the right. There he had words with the Sergeant before turning back. He galloped along the space between the two battle lines. All the combatants’ eyes followed the rider in the shiny Greek armor. At the far-left side, he pulled up and spoke with that Sergeant.

  “No matter what happens, watch the Hoplites in front of you,” he advised. “If they attack, do not advance on them. Let your shields break their charge. If they think you’re not paying attention, they’ll come at you.”

  “We’ll be watching, Lieutenant,” the NCO assured him.

  Alerio kneed the horse and at a fast canter, he rode back towards the center of the line. Before reaching Nereus and the other Lieutenants, he pulled the horse up sharply and dismounted.

  “Can you ride a horse?” he inquired of a Massina irregular.

  “Yes, sir,” replied the man in Legionary equipment.

  “Come with me,” Alerio said leading the man to a spot behind their line. Then to the men on ei
ther side ordered, “Form a barrier with your shields and give us some privacy.”

  The shields closed and blocked the view of the two men. When they opened, the Lieutenant in the shiny armor climbed onto his horse and rode to Nereus.

  “What was that about?” inquired Nereus.

  “I don’t know, Captain,” an oarsman replied from under the Greek helmet. “The Lieutenant said he wanted my equipment.”

  While Nereus and his two real Lieutenants exchanged questioning glances, a Legionary pushed through the Massina ranks. As he strutted forward, he thumped his short sword on his Legion shield. The Hoplite replied by banging his Greek shield.

  Chapter – 48 Legionary versus Hoplites

  Alerio had fast walked to the center of the Messina line. While Nereus questioned the man in the Lieutenant’s armor and helmet, the Legionary forced his way between two irregulars.

  About halfway across the no man’s land, Alerio stopped and pointed his gladius at the belligerent Hoplite. Then to the surprise of the Massina Militia and the Syracusans, he swung the blade and indicated a second Hoplite. There was no question in anyone’s mind, the Legionary had challenged two Hoplites.

  The Syracusans had wanted a spectacle that would draw the attention of Messina’s defenders. While the enemy was distracted, the Hoplites and soldiers would attack. But with two of their best stepping forward for individual combat, the plan dissolved as the distraction worked too well. Men from both sides leaned forward, or stepped out of their ranks, to watch the fight.

  ***

  Alerio’s one consolation was the last time he watched Hoplites in individual combat, the Greeks had used their shields to toss Illyrian pirates over their shoulders. Then, they spun on the disoriented pirates before butchering them. Hoping the maneuver was a standard tactic, the Legionary ran at the second Hoplite.

  With the large Legion shield powering towards him, the Hoplite stopped and braced. He bent his forward knee and angled the bottom of his shield ready to catch the Legionary’s shield. Once they collided, he’d flip the man over his shoulder.

  When Alerio saw the bottom edge of the Greek’s shield, he leaped. The two shields slammed together and the surfaces slid against each other. While the Greek rose, he flipped his shield to throw the Legionary over his shoulder. But Alerio was compensating.

  The leap was higher than it needed to be. In fact, the leap was high enough so Alerio had to extend his arm to keep the shields in contact. As he vaulted up and over the Hoplite’s shield, he kicked his legs hard. In the air, he rotated a half turn.

  Landing sideways on bent knees, Alerio thrust his gladius up into the Greek’s groin. The initial stab severely injured the man. But the Hoplite was turning and his own momentum caused the blade to rip open his gut. As he fell to his knees in the bloody puddle and sausage like lengths of his intestines, Alerio rolled away from the first Hoplite’s sword.

  ***

  “Try that on me, pirate,” the Hoplite spit out as he stalked by his dying comrade.

  “Correction, I’m not a pirate,” Alerio informed the Greek. “I’m Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera of the Republic’s Southern Legion. But that shouldn’t matter to you.”

  “It doesn’t. Why should it?” the Greek asked as he shifted trying to get between Alerio and the Messina defenders.

  Alerio noted a few Syracusan soldiers raise their spears. Only a little but sufficient to make him leery of a spear tip in the back.

  “I just thought you’d like to know the name of your slayer,” the Legionary stated as he shuffled around the Hoplite. His shifting placed him in front of the Greek with his back towards Messina. If he was going to catch a spear, at least he’d see it coming.

  Personal combat came in two ways. Immediately, with the combatants clashing moments after meeting. Or delayed, as the fighters felt each other out for a weakness. But with heavy infantry shields, armor, helmets, and preferred swords, there wasn’t a lot to test.

  Alerio rushed forward and bashed the Hoplite’s shield. Not too hard, he didn’t want to reveal his strength or over commit. The Greek easily withstood the strike, spun around the Legion shield, and swung his sword. The blade hacked at the overextended Legionary’s position. But Alerio had rolled in the opposite direction and, instead of using his blade, he kicked the edge of the Hoplite’s shield.

  The shield jerked away leaving the Greek momentarily open. Instantly, the Hoplite jumped back. Expecting a sword strike, he brought his sword down and across in a defensive move. Alerio let him retreat.

  “You’re strong,” Alerio complimented the Hoplite.

  “That was a lucky kick,” replied the Greek as he stomped forward.

  They clashed again. This time Alerio bent his knees, gathered his strength, and powered his shield forward. Caught by surprise, Greek was driven back two steps. But they ended up in a stalemate once the Hoplite dug in his feet. Hacking and grunting, both men fought for an advantage or the first cut. The grass churned and dirt piled up around their small battle, but neither could gain an advantage.

  It was the Greek who stepped away to catch his breath.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” Alerio observed. “Why don’t you pack up and go back to Syracuse. It’ll save me from killing you.”

  “You kill me?” the Hoplite replied between deep breaths. “You’ll see Hades while I’m drinking my wine this evening.”

  Alerio chanced looking down the battle lines. Both sides were losing interest in the shoving match. He needed to do something to increase the entertainment level. Moving to the dead Hoplite, he reached down and snatched up the Greek sword. It was longer than his gladius and while he moved back to face the gasping Hoplite, he tried the sword in both hands to see which felt better.

  “Are you ready to die?” Alerio asked.

  The Hoplite charged, his fatigue suddenly gone. Alerio slipped his arm out of the brace and when the Greek smashed in to it, the Legion shield sailed for a few feet before tumbling to the ground.

  “Nice charge,” Alerio commented as he stepped forward ending up beside the charging Greek.

  In panic, the Hoplite swung his shield around. Before he could get it into position, Alerio’s blade snapped out. Blood ran down the Greek’s leg from a cut across the left thigh. While he backed off, the Legionary cut circles with the gladius and the sword in the air. Looking left and right along the battle lines, he noted all eyes were once again on the personal fight.

  ***

  “Maybe you’d like to run down to your camp and take a nap,” teased Alerio as he paced back and forth while crossing and uncrossing the swords in front of him. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t run. There’s a cut on your leg.”

  “I’m going to cut your heart out,” the Hoplite threatened. But he remained where he stood on one leg while probing the wound on his thigh.

  Alerio widened the sword swings and lengthened the distance he paced.

  “I’m waiting, Greek,” he shouted so his voice carried along the battle lines. “Are you a coward? Or worried about a little blood? Come forward and fight me!”

  The Syracusans behind the Hoplite bristled and called for their champion to kill the pirate. On the other side, the Messina militia shouted encouraging words for Alerio.

  Spectatorship was intoxicating. To build up the courage to participate in a sword fight, or to charge an enemy, took momentum, energy, and compulsion. But watching a blood duel was freeing. The troops on both sides were in full voice with passion for their champion. If they weren’t divided by a no man’s land, the opposing forces would probably mix and bet on the outcome.

  Alerio took in the sporting mood on the battlefield. He doubted the Syracusan commanders could rally their Hoplites and soldiers from this atmosphere to mount an attack. With that thought in mind, he extended his arms out as if crucified, raised the tips of his swords, and turned his back on the Greek.

  ***

  The unprotected back proved too tempting for the Hoplite. His first step was powerful b
ut the second, on the injured leg, caused him to break stride. Still, the Legionary stood in the ridiculous victory pose unmoving. Gritting his teeth against the pain from the cramps caused by the wound, he hopped forward while raising his sword.

  Alerio prayed to Mars that the idle time had cooled the muscles of the Hoplite’s thigh. Listening to the shuffling let him know two things - where the Hoplite was located and that he was favoring the stiff, injured leg.

  To compensate for the lack of mobility, the Hoplite took a longer final step in order to deliver the killing blow. Just a little beyond his normal stance. But still in his comfort zone, even if it the extension forced his shield from in front of his body. He wanted a drink. He wanted to bandage the leg. He wanted to sit down. But mostly, he wanted to kill this Legionary.

  Alerio heard the Greek’s foot slam down on the dirt. Rotating to his left, he brought his swords together and hooked the blades on the back edge of the Hoplite’s shield. Using the hooked blades to increase his spin and speed of two steps, the Legionary pulled himself around the shield and away from the falling sword.

  The Hoplite changed the angle of his blade, attempting to reach the moving Legionary. But his shield cocked to the right limiting the reach. Suddenly the Legionary was beside him, moving and still turning. Hoping to duck away, the Greek leaned to his right.

  Alerio’s spinning steps carried him around the shield and momentarily, he faced the Greek. But he was over rotating, his momentum pulling him past his foe. As he fell behind the Hoplite, Alerio jerked both swords from the shield and in a sweeping motion raked them across the Greek.

  As the Legionary fell behind him, the Hoplite started to turn. Then he felt a burning sensation on his upper arm. Glancing down, he convulsed at the sight of the peeled skin and the exposed bone. But, there was too much blood. Separate from his arm, blood ran over his shoulder and down his chest. While still holding his sword, he raised the back of his hand to his neck. His knuckles sank into a deep wound, and his knees buckled. The Hoplite fell face down on his shield.