Chapter 26

Port of Kalb, Mouth of the Middle Sea

Valdar stepped carefully from the boarding plank down into the cutter, moving aft to take his place in the stern seat as the small boat began moving for the shore. Despite months of pounding the fortress from the sea and blockading it from resupply, he knew the coming battle would be anything but easy. This wasn’t where he saw himself before throwing his lot in with the Britannians. He was a ship’s captain and had no place leading soldiers into combat. Unfortunately, the two centurions commanding his assault force were far too green and inexperienced to properly lead the attack themselves. Valdar may not be a soldier, but he’d been involved in many fights, boarding actions, and even looted a city or two. Besides, this was his plan and his responsibility.

The men rowing the boat pulled hard on the oars as cannonballs soared over their heads, into the city, giving the defenders one last pounding before the men landed. His cutter was the last boat in line, pushing steadily across the harbor’s smooth surface toward the mostly untouched docks, left intact for exactly this purpose.

He felt the familiar twist in his gut that always came before a battle, that mingling of excitement and fear, eagerness and worry that somehow had become as much a part of him as his own skin. Ahead of him, nineteen longboats, packed with armed and armored legionaries, slowed as the lead two longboats moved closer toward the docks and the several dozen Carthaginians who’d come down from the walled city to try to repel the invaders.

Unlike the boats filled with legionaries, these two held a third of his marine force. Men who’d trained with the new rifles and were familiar with the constant rising and falling of the ocean. While many of their shots still missed, more struck home than any of the legionaries could have managed. Carthaginians began dropping. Their copies of the arcuballista were worthless at the range the marines were using. The marines were firing at them and were picking them off, one by one.

When the marines’ boats reached a couple of hundred paces out from the docks, they stopped, their rowers reversing their stroke to hold their boats in position, letting the legionaries, who had started rowing faster as the marines slowed, sweep past while they continued firing.

Seeing several hundred angry and armored legionaries closing on them, on top of their comrades continuing to fall with impunity as the marines carried on with their gruesome work, was more than enough for the remaining Carthaginians. Almost collectively, they decided they’d had enough, turning tail and running back to the crumbling port city, which had caught fire in several places, the untended fires starting to burn out of control.

Valdar’s boat landed at about the same time as the marines’ boats, men on the dock helped the new arrivals up and then they all fanned out to join the men already in line. The fleeing defenders had to have spread the word that the Britannians were there, and since there were no defenders sallying out to attack them it meant that they were going to hunker down and defend the broken city, making the Britannians fight house by house.

The canon fire from the ships in the harbor ceased as his ships’ captains saw that they were all ashore. From here on out, they were on their own. There wasn’t much his ships could do to help them now.

It was an unusual situation for an old sea dog to find himself in.

“Centurion,” he called out to the commander closest to him. “They’re waiting to bog us down, get us trapped in tight streets. We’ll split up our force. Fires are starting to get out of control north and west, so you’ll bring your men around and come from the east. We’ll march straight in, hopefully rendezvousing at the town center, either crushing them between us or pushing them into the burning streets. You’ll get half the medics we pulled off the ships and half the marines to care for any wounded and act as runners as needed.”

“Understood. We’ll see you there,” the centurion said, waving his men to follow him, circling around the city.

Valdar ignored them, turning his attention to the task at hand.

“Lead them on, centurion,” Valdar said.

He was in overall command, but he was no legionary. He’d leave the actual combat directives to their unit commanders and focus on keeping his men headed in the right direction, trying not to let them get bogged down. For the first few blocks, the narrow streets were eerily empty, many of the buildings burned and damaged from the naval bombardment.

It didn’t stay quiet for long. When they reached the first intersection, the Carthaginians sprung their first trap. A handful of bolts sailed out of a ruined building on their left, killing one legionary and leaving another in the dirt, a bolt sticking out of his knee. A dozen rifles on the left side of the formation turned and fired into the rubble. It was doubtful they killed anyone, considering no one had seen where those bolts came from.

“Contubernium left,” the centurion called out, causing ten of the legionaries on the left flank to peel off from the main body, slinging their rifles and pulling their swords.

The rest of the body didn’t slow down, which was exactly what they were supposed to do. They weren’t going to let anything slow them down. By the time they made it to the next intersection, the Contubernium had returned, their swords stained red. Better still, all of the men were accounted for.

That had just been the Carthaginians’ opening move, however. At the next street, the Carthaginians didn’t just settle for a few arcuballista bolts. The legionaries had just started to enter the intersection when men swarmed out of the buildings on all sides, completely surrounding them.

“Form Square,” the centurion bellowed, causing an instant ripple along their line as the legionaries instantly reacted, the lines splitting and reforming in a square.

Valdar, the marines, and medics rushed to get inside the square. The legionaries ignored their rifles and had their swords at the ready as the Carthaginians slammed into them. The attack was doomed from the beginning, despite the element of surprise, with roughly thirty Carthaginians trying to swarm the ninety-eight remaining legionaries. The Carthaginians gave it their all, however, and clashing metal sounded as the men collided, followed by screams of anguish as the first blades found flesh.

Ringing out over the sounds of battle came the occasional crack of a rifle. The handful of marines, not encumbered with defending themselves from sword and spear, picked targets, helping to whittle down the numbers even faster. Still, the battle wasn’t one-sided. The Carthaginians’ zealous fury took a toll, as here and there along the square legionaries fell beneath the blades. But for each man lost, five or six Carthaginians paid in kind.

The outcome of the battle was never in doubt. After only a few bloody minutes, the remaining Carthaginians finally broke, fleeing back down the streets.

“Reform lines,” the centurion called as the medics pulled the fallen legionaries back.

Valdar and his men continued their push through the ruined streets of the Carthaginian city. More small skirmishes broke out as they went, with defenders emerging from the rubble here or there to ambush them, but the numbers they faced were always incredibly small, usually only a handful of men, who were dispatched quickly.

Valdar knew they outnumbered the defenders, but so far there had been far too few of them, which meant there must be a large number ahead. They were still a few blocks out from what he believed was the center of the town, although a small curve in the street blocked it from view, when they started hearing the sounds of battle. Screams and rifle fire carried over the buildings, loud enough that it was clear where the rest of the Carthaginians were, and where the other century was.

“Double time!” he shouted, not waiting for their commander to give the order.

To their credit, none of them were confused. As soon as the order came, the men recognized the sounds they were hearing and realized their comrades were in trouble.

The legionaries broke into a run, rounding the final corner into a scene of chaos. The Carthaginians had concentrated their defense on the open square and were pressing hard on the second century, which was bottled up in the street, unable to bring the bulk of their men to bear. It was a tactic the Britannians had used many times against the Carthaginians, and one that worked equally well in reverse. Or it would have, had Valdar and his century not appeared.

“Charge,” the centurion yelled as soon as they saw the fight.

The command almost wasn’t needed. The men were already running full out, and they needed no urging to press the attack. His soldiers slammed into the Carthaginian rear. Caught between two Roman forces, the defenders’ cohesion shattered. They attempted to flee but found themselves pinned down and were attacked mercilessly.

What had been a pitched battle moments before turned into a slaughter. The square ran red with blood as the legionaries dispatched the last of the resistance. The port city now lay open to them, the defenses broken.

As the men collected the dead and squads were sent to root out any surviving Carthaginian soldiers, Valdar surveyed the bloody aftermath. They might have taken the port, but it was in very rough shape.

Runners were sent back to the ships, which began landing sailors to help get the fires under control while the legionaries provided security, should any resistance still exist.

Soon, the timid faces of townspeople began peering out from cellars and barricaded homes as they realized the fighting was over. With the battle won, it was time to establish control.

Valdar searched out the senior centurion, the man who’d led the other century, who at some point had made it back to the docks where he was directing the movement of men and supplies.

“You did well, centurion,” Valdar said when he found the man.

“Thank you, Admiral, although you were the one who saved us in the city square.”

“I only shortened the battle. Your men had things well in hand when we arrived. I’ve already sent a messenger back to Britannia with news of our victory, in which I commended your fine work to the Empress herself.”

“Thank you, sir,” the man said, flushing.

He was one of the newly trained and promoted centurions and probably didn’t expect his name to be spoken to the Empress directly. Considering he was a Roman, that was quite the achievement.

“Your work isn’t done, I’m afraid,” Valdar said. “I’m not staying. I need to take the fleet north to support the Consul and his legions as they assault the main Carthaginian port in southern Gaul. That means I have to leave you in command here. I know it’s a big responsibility, but I have faith you can handle it. In my message to the Empress, I also requested reinforcements for you, along with a senior officer to take over command of this port, but it will be several weeks at a minimum before you receive any more men.”

The centurion almost certainly hadn’t expected that news, causing him to blanch slightly at the sudden weight of his new responsibility.

“Don’t worry, you can handle this. The port is well protected from assault from the north, and the Carthaginians are otherwise engaged at the moment. Other than remnants of the defenders who made it out before our assault or possible brigands, you shouldn’t have much trouble. I’m not leaving you without support. Five of my ships will remain behind to protect the port and blockade the strait to Oceanus, which means the Carthaginians should not be able to do to you what we just did to them. You’re expected to keep the peace and begin repairing the port. Keep the civilian populace under martial law until you get reinforcements, although I don’t predict you’ll get much trouble from them. After months of shelling, I imagine they’ll be happy to get some semblance of normality back.”