Deranged Sovereignty Read online

  Deranged Sovereignty

  Clay Warrior Stories

  Book #15

  J. Clifton Slater

  Deranged Sovereignty is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. I am not an historian. although I do extensive research. This book is about the levied, seasonal Legion of the mid-Republic and not the fulltime Imperial Legion. There are huge differences.

  The large events in this tale are taken from history, but the dialogue and close action sequences are my inventions. Some of the elements in the story are from reverse engineering mid-Republic era techniques and procedures. No matter how many sources I consult, history always has holes between events. Hopefully, you will see the logic in my methods of filling in the blanks.

  The manuscript for Deranged Sovereignty has been poked, prodded, and corralled by Hollis Jones multiple times. With each adjustment, she and her red pen tightened and adjusted the narrative. Her editing notes are the reason the story makes sense and flows. For her work and guidance, I am grateful.

  If you have comments, please e-mail me.

  E-mail: [email protected]

  To get the latest information about my books, visit my website, sign up for the newsletter, and read blogs about ancient history.

  Website: www.JCliftonSlater.com

  Thank you for being a part of Alerio’s stories.

  Euge! Bravo!

  Table of Content

  Deranged Sovereignty

  Deranged Sovereignty

  Act 1

  Chapter 1 – Temple of Artemis

  Chapter 2 - Battle of Ephesus

  Chapter 3 – Lost Legacy

  Act 2

  Chapter 4 - Third Stage of Ore

  Chapter 5 – Staff Officer’s Staff

  Chapter 6 – Toppled Radishes

  Act 3

  Chapter 7 – Up the Hill

  Chapter 8 – Woe to the Vanquished

  Chapter 9 – Spears and Tin

  Act 4

  Chapter 10 – More Valuable than Gold

  Chapter 11 - Commerce and Spear Tips

  Chapter 12 – Trail Master

  Act 5

  Chapter 13 - Open Borderlands

  Chapter 14 - Battle at the Akus

  Chapter 15 – Mountain Passes

  Act 6

  Chapter 16 - Spirits of the Deceased

  Chapter 17 – Clash and Dash

  Chapter 18 – Bolvadin, Asia Minor

  Act 7

  Chapter 19 – Hee-haws and Wet Donkeys

  Chapter 20 – Buckets of Oil

  Chapter 21 – Bozarmut Confusion

  Act 8

  Chapter 22 – Deep Water

  Chapter 23 – Bargaining Token

  Chapter 24 – Command and Control

  Act 9

  Chapter 25 – Lion of Rhodes

  Chapter 26 – Seats of Resolutions

  Chapter 27 – Home to Rome

  The End

  A note from J. Clifton Slater

  Other books by J. Clifton Slater

  Deranged Sovereignty

  Act 1

  When asked by his Generals who would succeed him, Alexander III of Macedonia replied from his deathbed, “Krateros."

  Generals Cassander, Lysimachus, Ptolemy, Antigonus, and Seleucus were puzzled at the response. Krateros, the physically strongest of Alexandra’s commanders, was not in Babylon commanding an army. General Krateros resided in Cilicia while building a fleet. To succeed Alexander the Great and hold the realm together, the new King needed more than powerful shoulders, he needed cadres of Hoplites, cavalrymen, archers, spearmen, and slingers.

  Considering Krateros’ lack of phalanxes, the ambitious Generals deciphered the answer to mean ‘the man commanding the strongest army’ would succeed the Macedonian King. Sixty-six years after his death, the territories conquered by Alexander were controlled by the descendants of three of his toughest generals. The legacies of the other three, including Krateros, were nil.

  General Ptolemy’s son, Pharaoh Ptolemy, ruled Egypt and the fertile lands along the Nile River.

  General Seleucus’ grandson, Emperor Antiochus, ruled the Seleucid Empire. His Mesopotamian region stretched from the Tigris River to Asian Minor.

  And General Antigonus’ grandson, King Antigonus, ruled the Macedonian Realm in Greece.

  Even though the three kingdoms controlled huge swaths of land and ruled enormous numbers of people, they continued to act out Alexander’s final answer. Mostly, they tested their strength at shared borders. Only two of the kingdoms touched at any point, providing separation between them. However, the three empires converged around the Aegean Sea and Mediterranean Sea. The proximity increased tensions and history recorded six times the three came to open combat over towns and areas along the coast of Asia Minor.

  In the geographical middle of the region, and the metaphysical center between the massive and hostile empires, rested the small, sovereign nation of Rhodes.

  The Isle of Rhodes, beyond the island, held a section of mainland roughly ten times the size of the island itself. All totaled, it counted as but a speck of dust compared to the Egyptian, the Macedonian, or the Mesopotamian realms.

  The Isle of Rhodes held the position as the largest grain shipper in the Mediterranean and a trusted source of minted coins. Those two items should have doomed the tiny island nation to destruction for competing with the big three. But Rhodes thrived even as the empires went at each other’s throats.

  Adding to the mystery of its survival, Rhodes maintained a large fleet. Forgoing the big quinquereme battle platforms used by other sea powers, the Rhodian Navy favored trihemiolias. These fast-attack warships featured sections with double rowers for extra speed. When provoked, the Navy sank any ship that threatened their grain transport business. Seemly with impunity, the Isle of Rhodes acted as aggressively as any of the successors to Alexander the Great.

  Welcome to 257 B.C.

  Chapter 1 – Temple of Artemis

  “Ninety-nine years ago, the temple burned, and the great Macedonian General Alexander was born,” Vilppu explained as he and Alerio Sisera strolled alongside the temple. “It is rumored that the Goddess Artemis was too busy attending the birth of Prince Alexander to watch over her own temple and prevent the fire.”

  They reached the end of the four-hundred-fifty-foot-long building and turned the corner. After a couple of hundred more feet, they left the temple structure behind, and continued to the stables.

  “The Temple of Artemis is impressive,” Alerio admitted. He swung into the saddle of his rented horse. Eyeing the top of the sixty-foot-tall columns, he marveled at the temple’s roof hanging against the sky. “Commander, I appreciate you taking time to give me a tour.”

  “It is the least I can do, Tribune Sisera,” Vilppu remarked. He guided his horse onto the trail leading from the Temple of Artemis before adding. “Call it payment for what I am about to do to you.”

  Alerio braced for a moment. Studying the naval officer and the surrounding area, the Legion Tribune noticed nothing menacing about the man or the trail. Figuring the Commander’s words did not constitute a direct threat, Alerio relaxed.

  “And just what are you about to do to me?” he questioned the Rhodian commander.

  Vilppu’s trio of trihemiolias rested on the beach at Ephesus. They had arrived shortly after dawn and brought the three attack ships ashore beside ten Egyptian ships-of-war. Then they proceeded to setup day camps. While the Rhodian’s prepared food, the Commander invited Alerio to go for a ride.

  “I guess it won’t hurt to tell you,” Vilppu related. “When I get back to the beach, my men are going to burn one of the Egyptian vessels.”

  “Not
to state the obvious,” Alerio offered, “but that will start a fight. You have about six hundred oarsmen and they have two thousand rowers, archers, and Marines. You’ll lose the skirmish, get your men killed, and cause an international rift with your country’s main trading partner. I cannot see your logic in burning an Egyptian ship-of-war.”

  “All that has been taken under consideration,” Vilppu assured him. “Unfortunately, you, Tribune Sisera, were not taken under consideration during the planning stages. I’m afraid you showed up as a military observer at the wrong time and wrong place.”

  “For three months, I have been shuffled off Rhodian warships just before they rowed against pirates. From my point of view, that is no way to observe your military in action,” Alerio informed the Commander. “Now that I finally get to witness an engagement, it’s a suicide mission. Unless the burning and the fight are part of a bigger plan.”

  “We can’t allow the Egyptians to make Ephesus a duty-free port for their grain ships. If we allow it here, other countries will do the same, and soon Rhodes will lose her edge in trading,” Vilppu explained. “You were supposed to be offloaded to another Commander’s squadron, but we missed the connection yesterday. Now, you will get a close look at our fighting abilities. Maybe too close for your own comfort. If it will ease your nerves, I will put you on the first warship off the beach. Or you can turn back to Selcuk and ride southeast to Rhode’s controlled territory at Aydin. It’s about thirty miles from the Temple.”

  Alerio did not reply or turn the mount around. He thought while the two horses pick their way through the hills. At the top of a slope and the beginning of a road heading for the town of Ephesus, he cleared his throat.

  “Where will you be during the fighting, Commander Vilppu?” he inquired.

  “I’ll be standing with my squadron as is my duty. My flagship will be the last ship off the beach,” the naval officer bragged. “You, however, have options. Why do you ask about me?”

  “Because I have armor, a helmet, and a sword,” Alerio replied. “But I don’t have a shield. Can I borrow one?”

  ***

  The stableman collected the horses’ reins and returned Alerio’s deposit. There was no return for the Commander because Vilppu did not leave a guarantee. Alerio had learned when officers from Rhodes gave their word, it was to be accepted as a deposit. If not, an insistence on a payment or any other requirement constituted a challenge, leading to a duel. The stableman had no desire for a fight. He graciously acknowledged the Rhodian officer’s word as the deposit and was content with the return of the horse and saddle.

  “Do I have time to change?” Alerio questioned.

  “I need to meet with my ship’s officers and that will take a few moments,” Vilppu replied. “But stay out of sight until we begin.”

  Alerio fast walked to the flagship and climbed the sideboards. From the beach, the warship appeared empty. As he scurried up and peered over the rail, he found rows of armored men hunched down and out of sight.

  Ship’s Sergeant Priam tilted back his hoplite helmet and exposed his face.

  “Come to collect your belongings, Tribune?” the Senior NCO inquired.

  “Just a few items,” Alerio replied. “Do you have a shield I can use?”

  “If you promise to return it in good condition,” Sergeant Priam teased.

  “No guarantee on the condition,” Alerio informed the NCO. He filtered between rowing benches and dodged armored men until reaching his bags. “Because, I am not good at hanging back during a fight.”

  While strapping on his armor, a shield was dropped on the bench beside him.

  “Sergeant Priam. What am I supposed to do with a dinner platter?” Alerio questioned while slipping the armored skirt around his waist.

  “Sir, it’s what officers use during a battle,” the NCO replied.

  “I am not in your chain of command,” Alerio advised the Sergeant. “If I wanted to hang back and watch, I could do it from the deck of the first warship off the beach. Today, I am not an officer.”

  “What do you want, sir?” the Sergeant inquired. Then as if mocking the Tribune, he suggested. “An infantry shield?”

  “I promise to use it properly,” Alerio told him.

  The platter was snatched away, and a big bronze oval replaced it. Alerio rested his red cockscomb helmet on a bench and began strapping the shield to his left arm.

  “The officer’s shield is lighter,” Sergeant Priam suggested.

  “It is,” Alerio agreed. He finished securing the straps and tested the shield in the space available within the confines of the rowing benches. Then he assured the NCO. “This one will do just fine.”

  From the beach below, a voice shouted, “Standby to launch. Launch, launch.”

  But the flagship did not move. Voices from the other two Rhodian warships announced they were being pushed off the beach. Nervous shifting passed down the rows of armored men.

  “Fire, fire, fire,” a voice from outside the hull cried.

  Alerio and the men saw three bundles of burning branches arch into the air. The flaming sticks sailed in the direction of the first Egyptian ship-of-war before vanishing below the level of the ship’s rail.

  “Over the side,” the Senior NCO instructed. He stood and directed the rowers with his sword. To a few stragglers, he bellowed. “Move your behinds before I rip them off and feed them to my pet pigs.”

  Alerio chuckled at Priam’s motivational speech. Then he dropped over the side and ran with the ranks of Rhodians towards a mob of angry Egyptian rowers and Marines.

  Behind the Egyptians, flames from three separate fires on a ship-of-war crackled and blazed, and smoke bellowed into the sky. Even as Alerio ran to a line set by another NCO, the three separate fires grew together consuming the big ship-of-war.

  The Lieutenant and Captain from Vilppu’s flagship ran back and forth behind the line in an agitated state.

  “Hold them,” they shouted in excitement. “Stay close and hold them.”

  Alerio realized it might have been a rash and ill-advised decision to join the fight. The two naval officers had no concept of how to motivate or control an infantry line. At sea, they might be superb mariners. On a combat line, they were almost useless.

  “Lock your shields together,” Alerio shouted. “Address the man on your left and on your right and steady your line. Overlap your shields. Brace your legs and shoulders. Prepare for impact.”

  His voice might have been strange to the armored oarsmen. But the instructions were sound and delivered in a commanding voice. They obeyed.

  “I thought you weren’t an officer today?” Priam asked.

  “Just trying to help,” Alerio told the Ship’s Sergeant.

  Behind the combat line, two rowers held Vilppu’s gear. He ran up and slipped on the chest armor and a helmet.

  “What’s the situation?” he asked.

  Alerio glanced at the Captain, the Lieutenant, and the Commander and realized each Rhodian officer expected information from the other. Directing a ship at sea required watching and analyzing the vessel, the enemy’s position, the shoreline, and the waves. The shared knowledge of a committee and communications were necessary for proper shipboard operations. With a combat line, one person needed to be in charge.

  A great explosion of grunts and cries of pain rose from the line. Alerio scanned the Rhodians and the Egyptians as they ground together. Each side shoving and attempting to break the other’s line and gain an advantage.

  “Ah, Hades,” Alerio spit out.

  “Do you have something to add?” Vilppu inquired.

  “No, sir,” Alerio responded figuring it would take too long to explain shield wall tactics to the naval Commander. He pushed Sergeant Priam away from the officers. “Your right side is about to catch the leading edge of a squad of Egyptian Marines. Give me four of your best shield men and four oars. And forgive me.”

  “Forgive you for what, Tribune Sisera?” the Senior Sergeant asked.
r />   “For scratching up this shield,” Alerio told him. Drawing his Noric steel gladius, he stated. “Send me those four shields and the oars.”

  Done with the instructions, Alerio jogged to the right side of the Rhodian formation. The oarsmen were holding steady and inflicting wounds on the Egyptians. Even so, the thin formation would be sliced to pieces by the combat trained Marines. Once breached, the Rhodians would be lucky to get the flagship launched before it was captured.

  Alerio wondered at the plan to hold the beach after igniting the Egyptian ship-of-war. During the initial confusion, they could have rowed out with the other two. Instead, the Rhodian Commander allowed his crew to get into a fight they were ill-equipped to handle.

  “Sir, Sergeant Priam said you needed shields?” a massive oarsman asked.

  Two more rowers ran up and shortly after them another big man joined the group. He held four oars on his shoulder.

  “You wanted oars, sir?” he inquired.

  Alerio positioned two rowers holding oars as if they were spears on either side of him.

  “I’ll be fighting under your oak,” Alerio informed the big men. “Keep the second row off of me and we’ll stop the Marines.”

  “They look like they know what they are doing,” one of the oarsmen commented.

  Alerio glanced over the line of shoving men. Briefly, he settled on the ranks of Egyptian Marines then turned back to his four oarsmen.

  “They might know how to fight,” he advised. “And so, do I.”

  ***

  Alerio Sisera expanded his chest, loosened his shoulders, and prayed.

  “Goddess Nenia, please accept the souls I deliver to you today as sacrifices,” Alerio whispered. “At the end of the fight, if you should find mine in the stack of bodies, I thank you for the opportunity to have served you.”

  Then Tribune Alerio Sisera shoved Rhodian oarsmen aside and stepped up to fill a spot in the combat line.

  ***

  The officer for the Egyptian Marines angled his unit and directed them at one spot. Clearly, his objective was a quick breakthrough. Punching an expanding hole in the Rhodian oarsmen should have been easy. Except the narrow front stalled when they met a Legion infantryman wearing an officer’s red horsehair combed helmet.