Antioch Burns (10 page)

“Legate General, where would you like me to position my
bucerelli
?
” Ioannes asked. He had been woken from sleep, and was only looking more functional after having downed a large, steaming mug of tea.

“At the breach, along with our central reserve. The fallen tower here,” Regllius tapped the newly updated three-dimensional map. “Drive back the Mongolian forces and make them bleed,” Regillus growled. The entire siege was balanced on the edge of a sharp
gladius
, and Regillus knew that every minute he wasted giving orders was one that allowed the Mongolians more time to organize their assault.

Ioannes saluted.

“Save me a space on one of those airships,” he quipped. Regillus gave a short chuckle.

“Let’s make sure we both get a space. Alive.”

The young legate general clasped his fist to his chest. “May Mercury grant you his speed, and your Christ watch over you.”

Ioannes made the motion of a cross on his chest, then turned in a flash of cloak. His personal bodyguards formed up around him as he swept out of the room. Regillus turned to his other advisors, their faces grim.

“How far away is the relief fleet,
Hypatos
Junic?”

“About four to six hours away, my general. That of course, depends on wind, cloud cover, their ability to navigate…”

“So you’re saying plan for six, prepare for eight or more?”

The former governor’s aide shrugged slightly, eyes rereading the last reports in an attempt to glean additional details. A brief pause, then his dark eyes met Regillus’.

“Sir, I’m saying plan for twelve hours. We must hope they make better time.” The words were heavy in the air, the other advisors staring down at the table, as though examining the information would yield different results. Regillus forged ahead.

“I see. And all civilian populations have been secured at the airfield?”

“As many as we could fit, sir. The rest are here in the palace.”

Regillus strode to the large open windows that looked north, out over the Orestes River. A small, sheltered harbor protected by large towers and a thick metal portcullis, raised via pistons and winches, framed the view. Moonlight shone down, reflecting off the river. Unnatural motion on the river drew his eye. He pulled out his binoculars and scanned the river. At first, he saw only the moonlight and waves.

“Sir?” an officer asked, curious. Regillus ignored him.

There!

“Centurion Eruminus. Get a messenger to the northern river towers immediately. Tell them to prepare for an assault.”

“Sir? But the Mongols are all focused on the wall breach.”

“Boats, man! The Mongolians have a second assault planned. While our attention is at the breach, they’ll sneak in our back door.”

Regillus handed his binoculars to the centurion.

“Keep an eye on them from here. I will take the civilian reserve and the city watch to assist in the defense.”

“My lord, I could send for a
cohort
or two from the reserve…”

“No! All of our legionnaires are needed at the breach. That must hold until the air fleet arrives. Civilians can better defend from the wall defenses anyways. Keep me appraised.” The centurion saluted numbly, before turning back to watch the wave of Mongolian boats float down the river.

Regillus motioned to his small bodyguard unit, the
excubitors,
elite soldiers closely connected to the famous Praetorian Guard in Rome. They practically oozed lethality as they navigated their way through the packed corridors, weaving their way between the small knots of refugees taking shelter from the Mongolian attack.

“Make way for the legate general! Make way!” His
signifer excubitor
ordered. The governor had been provided with ten for his rank, yet only four had remained behind when the coward fled the city. These men had offered their loyalty to Regillus, as de facto leader of the city. A clear passage allowed Regillus to speed up, and they soon arrived in a small courtyard. His
excurbitors
formed up behind him, their top rated equipment and armor shinning in the moonlight. By contrast, the men in the courtyard were a motley assortment armed with scavenged weapons of every type.

With the fall of the city, the civic legion had been folded into the remnants of the Syrian IV. Their counterparts, the city watch, were equally depleted, many of their rank being dual members of both legion and watch. A wounded legionnaire made his way forward.

“General sir!
Decanus
Putriskus reporting for duty!” The man’s words slurred slightly, and he adjusted the bandage wrapped tightly around his head. “My…charges…are ready, if you are facing a pack of schoolboys. Now against the Mongols… well, they’ll do about as well as you expect, sir.” He turned around to face the roughly hundred citizen reservists.

“Alright you lot, straighten up and form ranks. Show some respect for the general here and look sharp!” The civilians shambled their way into lines. Regillus knew he would have to keep his orders simple. He spied volunteers with the look of street toughs, grey haired mustered out legionnaires, and young men, barely more than boys, all deemed ‘fit’ for service.
How can these men hold out against trained, vicious killers? How can I ask this of them?

“Because if you do not, sir, we all will die anyways,” the closest
excurbitor,
Lamous Tuosokes, whispered to him. Regillus realized he must have spoken aloud. He gave a quick nod.

“Men, the time is dire. The Mongolians have breached the citadel walls and are even now crossing the moat. But they are devious and have decided to strike from the rear as well! You are the last line between your families and the enemy. Will you follow me?”

In response, Regillus received a deafening cheer of assent.

With no time to waste, Regillus led them to the north wall. Dividing his force in two, he positioned his least able bodied men atop the ramparts, alongside the scant handful of Syrians manning the artillery. At the water gate, Regillus positioned his
demi-cohort
, mostly made up of the retired legionnaires and youngest men. Some part of him hoped that the portcullis and wall defenses would stop the Mongols, but Regillus refused to hold out much optimism. So far, the easterners had surprised and outwitted him at every turn. This time, he would not be fooled so easily.

Quickly, he ordered his men to build a barrier. Barrels, bags of flour, anything the men could get their hands on went into this barricade along the riverfront. Facing north, the entrance to the small harbor funneled right between the two towers, the dock able to fit only two or three small riverboats at a time. The river continued to flow under the citadel through a series of gated channels, disappearing from view under the stone streets. The harbor was empty now, the only riverboat having left days ago.

The artillery pieces on the ramparts opened up on the Mongols. Regillus could hear the clacking of the heavy repeater crossbows as they loaded each foot-long bolt and launched it across the water.

“Sir!”
Decanus
Putriskus shouted down at him from the wall. “The Mongols have some type of fireboat!”
Vulcan’s ashes, there is probably gunpowder on those fireboats…

“Sink the fireboats! Do it now! All fire on them!”

The whine of the artillery fire increased on the wall top. Craning his head over the barricade, Regillus was able to spot at least three fireboats floating down the river towards the harbor. Two had only small fires on them, but the third was awash in flame. Rocks and missiles from the walls lashed angrily out at them, large splashes betraying close misses.
Crash!
One of the boats seemed to founder, a lucky strike hitting the rudder and holing it at the water line. Cheers echoed down from the wall top.
Even holed in such a way, I remember someone telling me how long it takes wooden boats to sink…

“Only two more…,” someone close to him was saying when the third boat exploded. As he had predicted, the boat was packed full of gunpowder. The fireball was blinding as the boat disappeared in a blaze of yellow and orange. The blast wave shattered windows and tossed parts of the barricade up into the air.

Regillus leaned heavily against a barrel to ride out the explosion. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to shake off the searing afterimage of the erupting fireboat.

There is another boat,
Regillus recalled. He craned his head around, but could not see the last fireship. Where had it gone?

“Status report! Where are the other ships?” Regillus shouted up at the wall. The
decanus
’ head reappeared in a moment.

“Sir! Both fireships are gone! The explosion must have blown them to pieces!” Putriskus crowed. “The rest are pulling off and beaching themselves on the river bank. Looks like they’ll try and join up with their barbarian comrades in the city.”

A feeling of relief swept over the reserve
cohorts
. Men smiled and clapped each other on the shoulders in solidarity. Meanwhile, Regillus was debating his next move when a messenger cantered up on horseback. The animal whinnied nervously, no doubt still smelling the sulfurous aftereffects of the explosion. But the man’s face was a huge half moon smile.

“Sir! The air fleet has arrived. They are landing as we speak!”

“How is this possible? We would have seen them from the north…”

“They came from the west, sir, to avoid the Mongols and their new weapons.”

For a moment, Regillus could do nothing but gape. The news spread quickly amongst the men. Relief was here! They were saved! Regillus knelt and placed a gauntleted fist on the ground, giving thanks to the gods for seeing to their rescue.

“Mongolian forces have taken the breach.
Mongolian forces have taken the-” Centurion Wessox looked up from the transmitter, his hand paused over the message pad.

“Sir, the message ended…”

“That came from tower twelve?” At Wessox’ nod, Regillus sighed. It was the closest tower and thus the site of the temporary frontline headquarters established by the defenders at the breach. The telegraph station kept citadel and breach in constant contact.

“We can assume that Councilman Ioannes’ defense has fallen and that Mongolian forces are within the citadel limits. Order all remaining forces back to the palace, and inform the evacuation fleet. Have there been any further updates from the aeroport?” Furthering clattering and clicking noises came from the transmitter.

“No sir, the last civilian transport was just leaving,” Wessox said as he hurriedly transcribed the seemingly meaningless sounds into words and sentences. Finally, the machine quieted. The centurion made a few corrections, then looked up.

“Sir, the remaining airships are assuming close position above the palace. They report that they are ready to leave, and will be unable to maintain post for very long. In addition, they report that the Mongol army is pouring through the breach. We likely have just minutes, sir.”

“Well it is good that I have rigged some traps to keep the Mongols out for a bit longer.” Monventus’ booming voice interrupted. “We can blow the gate, the side streets, and the palace courtyards when you wish. That should slow them down.”

Regillus turned to look at the engineer. The man was covered in dirt from head to toe, but his voice held steely determination.
How is that man still functioning? I have not slept for days, and I feel like I am about to fall over.

“Were you able to confirm that all remaining posts have fallen back?” he asked Wessox.

The man rubbed his eyes, then covered a yawn.

“Centurion?” he prompted.

“Sorry, sir. Yes, sir, all outlying posts have fallen back. Although we are still unsure if there are any survivors from the breach…”

“I understand. I will take command of the rearguard. Get to the roof, take the next airship out. And Centurion,” Regillus handed the man a thin envelop. “If I do not make it out of here, would you ensure my wife gets that letter?” Wessox stood and accepted the letter gingerly.

“It would be my honor, sir. The empire needs men like you, far more then they need men like our former governor.” Wessox saluted, then turned and left, the remaining handful of low-level support auxiliaries joining him. Regillus heard the powerful hum of the engines as one of Rome’s mighty airships descended towards the palace.

Regillus left the small communications alcove and entered the throne room. From the center of the room, one could look down the long promenade to the main entryway. Regillus made the long walk in less than a minute. His remaining men had gathered in a large atrium, before the main entrance doors. They were barricaded with benches, tables, and all manner of odds and ends. His
excurbitors
, plus a handful of uninjured legionnaires and dismounted
cataphractii
in battered but functional armor, were all that remained to hold the governor’s palace. Off to the side, Monventus was busy rigging one last trap for the Mongolians.

A pounding at the outside door made him pause, along with the sounds of close combat fighting. The men went quiet, listening carefully.