sophie
Break My Heart
haha fat chance! Not while he's a week overdue for an ALC Update!
Princes of the Universe, Part II
- Thread starter Sisiutil
- Start date
sophie
Break My Heart
Benn reading too much of the Aztec War there?
Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
Chapter 16 Scipio's Sabre
Marcus Scipio and the Battle of New Serai, 1770 AD
Part 3
The night surrounding the Roman war frigate Hercules was deceptively calm. The only sound audible after the sun set was the gentle splashing of the small waves that lapped against the great war ships wooden sides. By rights, the sailors and other men aboard should have been peacefully asleep, rocked to slumber by the gentle movement of the great ship as she nestled in calm waters. But instead, this night, every man on board was wide awake, and alert as well. For the waters in which their vessel rested at anchor were in enemy territory, and on a hill only a mile away lay a city under siege. Tonight, a dozen men on board would attempt to break the city wide openor die in the attempt. The tension in the air was almost palpable.
Scipio and a small, select group of the 14th Legions Riflemen had rowed out to the Hercules earlier that day, two days after Scipio had reluctantly agreed to take part in Major Scaurus audacious plan to open the well-fortified city to the Roman invaders. Scaurus had insisted only on volunteers for the mission. Scipio had not been surprised when Sergeant Necalli, Corporal Silo, and Private Lallena had all stepped forward, along with eight others, but hed been proud, and reassured as well. Theyd fought together for months now, and could predict one anothers actions; and he was certain that a shared desire to avenge Li motivated them. Even so, though he was glad to have them along, he was worried for their safety. And his own.
But the time for sober second thought was long past. The Hercules captain gave a nod, and Scipio and the dozen riflemen from his company scrambled silently into a waiting longboat. Crewmen from the Hercules had the oars, and began to skilfully guide the boat toward the citys high, formidable walls.
Scipio forced himself to be calm. The moon was new tonight, so only the dim lights of the stars and the nearby city were available to guide their way. Yet it seemed to Scipio that it was too much light by half; he felt terribly vulnerable in the rocking longboat. The small waves that slapped against the sides sounded like booming cannonades. Surely some alert sentry would spot their approach, or hear it, and raise the alarm? He tried to put such concerns out of his head, but he had little else to do but sit and brood upon everything that could go wrong with this risky endeavour. He could feel his heart pounding and sweat trickling down his back, the way it did before a battle.
The boats came in close to the city, the dark, foreboding walls towering above the tiny craft. With the high walls blocking the city light, Scipio could now barely see his hand in front of his face. He repressed the urge to curse. How could they find their target in such utter blackness? But then the unmistakable odour of human waste assaulted his nostrils, and he knew they were close.
There, one of the crewmen whispered to him.
Scipio squinted into the darkness, and slowly a shape vaguely made itself apparent: a large, circular hole in the wall, darker than the stone wall itself, covered by a metal grate. The hole was nearly the height of a man. The crewmen skilfully manoeuvred Scipios boat so it was right next to the sewer outflow pipe, which only appeared above the waterline at low tide. Just as Nara had told them.
Right, Cal, Scipio whispered to his hulking Aztec Sergeant, were on.
Carefully, Necalli and Scipio slipped over the gunwales of the longboat and found their footing next to the sewer grate. The two riflemen gripped the metal grate and could both smell and feel the powdery rust on the wet metal. They heaved, but the grate did not move. They paused a moment and exchanged a glance.
Again, Scipio muttered, on three. One, two
They pulled again, harder, straining, and were rewarded by hearing the old, rusted metal groan. Their elation was smothered by their fear of being heard. They paused a moment, ears straining to hear a shout of alarm, but the night remained as still and as silent as the grave.
One more time, Scipio whispered.
This time, both the rusted iron and the aged cement in which it rested gave way. The tearing sound of metal and rock made Scipio wince, but nothing could be done about it. Another tug, and the grate gave way. Scipio could hear his men in the boats sighing out the exuberance they normally would have shouted. Gingerly, he and Necalli eased the heavy grate into the water behind them. Then they stared into the effluent tunnel.
Not the first time you and I have crawled through a sewer hole, Scipio muttered.
You always take me to the finest places, sir, Sergeant Necalli replied. He turned back towards the boats. Right, lads, he whispered, in we go.
The riflemen disembarked from the longboats and gathered inside the sewage pipe. The drain ran at an angle, so once they waded waist-deep through the water at its opening, they found themselves walking, stooped over, up the pipe, two abreast, with the effluent running down in a stinking stream between them.
Were not going to impress many of the local girls after walking through this stuff, Lallena muttered.
Quiet in the ranks! Necalli whispered urgently.
The men remained mostly silent for the remainder of their trip through the dark, malodorous drain. Now and then a man would slip in the dark and curse softly, and Scipio would restrain a strong urge to reach out and cuff the party responsible. He was sure theyd been heard or spotted at some point and would find a troop of Mongolian regulars waiting for them with bayonets at the ready. Thus far, however, theyd encountered no resistance.
Eventually, Scipio paused. This is it, he said when his hands blindly encountered metal rungs embedded in the stone. Without another word, he began to climb.
Less than a minute later, he had to bite back a curse when his head thumped against a heavy metal manhole cover.
Allow me, sir, Necalli whispered.
The big Aztec deftly eased himself past his officer on the same set of ladder rungs. He braced his broad back against the cold concrete wall, then gingerly lifted the manhole cover, grunting softly as he exerted himself. Not for the first time in their shared history, Scipio was glad to have the big Sergeant along.
With the cover out of the way, the dozen Romans scrambled upwards, glad to leave the stinking sewer behind them. They found themselves in a dark, silent alley and did their best to remain silent. They were now deep inside enemy territory without any hope of support from their comrades. They were completely and utterly alone.
Scipio glanced around at the dark shapes of the buildings surrounding the alley where his riflemen now crouched. The buildings were nearly as dark as the night sky, save for the occasional glow of a candle or a lantern in some window that emulated the cold, twinkling lights of the stars above. Scipio felt his stomach twinge with anxiety. He pushed the vulnerable feeling away. He had a job to do.
It only took him a moment to get his bearings. Naras instructions had been detailed and precise; he silently blessed the young woman for it. He found the north star in the sky, then set off down the alley in its direction, silently signalling for his riflemen to follow. Every man in the unit was tense. One rifleman coughed, and every one of his comrades turned and cast a murderous glance in his direction.
Scipio exhaled in frustration, but said nothing. So far, everything had gone well; but rather than assuring him, this only heightened his sense that something was going to go horribly wrong. Wasnt that always the way things went in his life? He shook his head as if he could force such distracting thoughts from it. He and his riflemen only had a few hours of darkness to accomplish their goal; it was best to ignore his superstitions and get on with it.
He reached the end of the alley. Cautiously, he peered out around the side of the building onto a secondary street lit by a few gas streetlights. The pale, yellowish light they cast flickered as they strove to illuminate the long, dark street. Directly across from him was the entrance to another alley; off to the right was a sign for a public house, decorated by a dragon. Scipio nodded and allowed himself to relax just a little. He was right where he was supposed to be. One more block over, across one more street, and theyd arrive at their first objective for the night.
Scipio looked down toward both ends of the street. Seeing it was abandoned, he patted Necalli on the shoulder and gestured with his head across the street. The big Aztec nodded and, without a moments hesitation, sprinted across the street and into the alleyway opposite. Once there, he pressed most of his bulk into the darkness the alley offered, holding out one hand with an upturned thumb back towards the rest of his unit.
Scipio sent Lallena across next. Then Silo. Then, one at a time, the remaining men of the unit. Half the men had safely made their way across the street when disaster struck.
The next rifleman was just about to sprint across the street when Scipio heard the sound of a low voice, speaking Mongolian, coming from down the street. He threw one arm out in front of the rifleman to hold him back, then carefully looked around the corner.
Two sentries were walking across the entrance to the street. Pass on by, Scipio silently willed them. But when they were halfway across, one of the sentries gestured down the street towards the two alleys where Scipios riflemen were hiding. The sentrys partner was gesturing in the direction theyd originally been heading, and Scipio hoped hed win the argument; perhaps he had a bottle or a woman he was anxious to get back to. But his partner, no doubt bucking for a promotion, won out, and with a resigned shrug, the reluctant sentry followed him down the street. Right towards Scipio and his men.
A silent string of curses ran through Scipios head. He leaned back into the alley so he was watching the two sentries approach with only one eye around the corner. The officious one was taking time to inspect every doorway on one side of the street, and gestured to his more slovenly comrade to do the same on the opposite side. Scipios teeth ground together; proceeding like that, of course theyd discover his men. He looked back. The alley wasnt deep enough for them to retreat and hide, and ducking back into the sewer would take too long. Across the street, Scipio could see Necalli watching him anxiously from the darkness, the dark shapes of the other half of the unit huddled behind him.
Scipios lips pressed together into a grim line. He had only seconds to make a decision. He shook his head and shrugged. Action was always better than inaction, he told himself. He cast one glance at Necalli, hoping to convey a silent message of be ready to the big Aztec. He then stepped out of the alley and began to walk up the street.
To call it walking, though, would be generous. More accurately, he began to haltingly stumble up the street towards the dutiful Mongolian sentry, who now froze in his tracks to watch this sole figure lumbering towards him. Scipio had been taught the words to a particularly coarse, bawdy Mongolian drinking song in Ning-Hsia; he began to sing it, or, more accurately, mumble it, hoping that his accent would be buried in the slurred speech of a drunk. He leaned against the wall of the building next to him, sometimes with this hand, sometimes with his shoulder. Besides conveying the image of a drunk, this also kept him in the darkest part of the street. Scipio hoped the sentries would not be able to discern his light brown hair and Roman uniform until it was too late.
The dutiful sentry barked something at him. Scipio pretended not to hear. He kept shuffling forward, his head bent down so his shako hid his sandy hair. He giggled drunkenly after softly singing what hed been told was a particularly crude verse. The sentry spoke to him again in curt, indignant Mongolian, then gestured to his comrade to join him.
Yes, Scipio thought, watching them from beneath the stubby peak of his shako. Come here, both of you, nice and close
The two sentries were walking towards them, and Scipio pretended to suddenly notice them and stopped in his tracksright in the darkest spot on the street, where he knew he wouldnt be visible as much more than a shadow. They were close now, five paces away. Scipio bent over and made sounds as though he were about to retch. The reluctant sentry made a disgusted noise and slowed his approach. His more dutiful companion was not put off, however, and walked right up to Scipio. With his limited Mongolian, Scipio thought he heard the words curfew, punish, and drunkard.
Not that any of that mattered, because a heartbeat later, the Mongolian was unable to speak.
Scipio had straightened suddenly and unexpectedly, and his knee drove into the sentrys groin with such force the man felt as though hed been struck with a sledgehammer. Scipio took a step back, grabbed the sentrys head, and pulled it down as he drove his knee up again. The mans nose broke with a wet, sickening crunch and he collapsed to the pavement.
Scipio stepped over him towards the second sentry, who was back-pedalling in panic. He reached out and caught the front of the mans overcoat, halting his backward progress. Scipios fist swung forward, aimed straight at the mans chin.
Even as he struck home, however, Scipio sensed that this second sentry would be more formidable than his dutiful partner. He rolled with the punch, twisting his entire body, and managed to free his coat from Scipios grasp in the progress. He stumbled away from the big Roman rifleman, who was right on his heels. Scipio tackled the man and they both dropped to the cobblestoned street. Scipio grabbed the mans head and pulled it back, preparing to smash it against the hard stones. Just before he could, however, he spotted the whistle in the mans mouth. Then he heard it blow.
Bloody hell! Scipio cursed as he rammed the mans forehead against the cobblestones. The sentry had stopped blowing on the whistlein fact, hed swallowed the thingbut the damage was done. Scipio smashed his opponents head against the ground twice more until he stopped moving, then one more time just to vent his anger.
Come on! Scipio hissed at the half-dozen riflemen still hiding in the alley near the sewer.
He then took off at a run towards the rest of his men, gratified to hear his soldiers worn boots slapping against the cobblestones. Once the two halves of the unit were reunited, they began to run down the alley, desperate to reach their destination before the whistle blast brought more Mongolian sentries to the scene.
This alley was long and dark; its far entrance looked like a narrow slit in a grimly-lit canyon. Scipio thought he heard voices in Mongolian far behind him. So other sentries, alerted by the whistles call, had discovered their fallen comrades. Maybe theyd just assume the men had been mugged? Then he heard more high-pitched whistles blowing. No, there was no way a soldier in a city under siege was going to shrug off an attack on one of their patrols.
Damn, damn, damn! Scipio cursed silently. Even if his men reached their destination, theyd have to hide there, maybe through the rest of the night and the next day. Even then, the inner city patrols would be increased and on the alert. And of course, there was a very good chance that theyd be discovered.
The next sound he heard made him realize that he neednt worry about fulfilling the plan. He and his men would be lucky to live through the night. Because echoing through the narrow alley, from both ends, came the sharp, heavy sound of horses hooves clattering on cobblestones.
Cavalry.
Scipio dug his heels in and came to a stop; his men followed suit. Looking down to the end of the alley, he could see them now: Mongolian cavalry, reputedly the best in the world, cantering in the street, the riders determinedly glancing about for any sign of intruders. The Romans, to a man, then glanced over their shoulders to the entrance to the alley, from whence theyd come. The same bone-chilling sight of armed men on horseback appeared there as well.
Scipio swallowed hard. His mouth and throat felt bone-dry. He and his paltry force of a dozen riflemen were trapped, bottled up in a narrow alley, ready to be picked off like so many apples stuck in a barrel. They were as good as dead.
Marcus Scipio and the Battle of New Serai, 1770 AD
Part 3
The night surrounding the Roman war frigate Hercules was deceptively calm. The only sound audible after the sun set was the gentle splashing of the small waves that lapped against the great war ships wooden sides. By rights, the sailors and other men aboard should have been peacefully asleep, rocked to slumber by the gentle movement of the great ship as she nestled in calm waters. But instead, this night, every man on board was wide awake, and alert as well. For the waters in which their vessel rested at anchor were in enemy territory, and on a hill only a mile away lay a city under siege. Tonight, a dozen men on board would attempt to break the city wide openor die in the attempt. The tension in the air was almost palpable.
Scipio and a small, select group of the 14th Legions Riflemen had rowed out to the Hercules earlier that day, two days after Scipio had reluctantly agreed to take part in Major Scaurus audacious plan to open the well-fortified city to the Roman invaders. Scaurus had insisted only on volunteers for the mission. Scipio had not been surprised when Sergeant Necalli, Corporal Silo, and Private Lallena had all stepped forward, along with eight others, but hed been proud, and reassured as well. Theyd fought together for months now, and could predict one anothers actions; and he was certain that a shared desire to avenge Li motivated them. Even so, though he was glad to have them along, he was worried for their safety. And his own.
But the time for sober second thought was long past. The Hercules captain gave a nod, and Scipio and the dozen riflemen from his company scrambled silently into a waiting longboat. Crewmen from the Hercules had the oars, and began to skilfully guide the boat toward the citys high, formidable walls.
Scipio forced himself to be calm. The moon was new tonight, so only the dim lights of the stars and the nearby city were available to guide their way. Yet it seemed to Scipio that it was too much light by half; he felt terribly vulnerable in the rocking longboat. The small waves that slapped against the sides sounded like booming cannonades. Surely some alert sentry would spot their approach, or hear it, and raise the alarm? He tried to put such concerns out of his head, but he had little else to do but sit and brood upon everything that could go wrong with this risky endeavour. He could feel his heart pounding and sweat trickling down his back, the way it did before a battle.
The boats came in close to the city, the dark, foreboding walls towering above the tiny craft. With the high walls blocking the city light, Scipio could now barely see his hand in front of his face. He repressed the urge to curse. How could they find their target in such utter blackness? But then the unmistakable odour of human waste assaulted his nostrils, and he knew they were close.
There, one of the crewmen whispered to him.
Scipio squinted into the darkness, and slowly a shape vaguely made itself apparent: a large, circular hole in the wall, darker than the stone wall itself, covered by a metal grate. The hole was nearly the height of a man. The crewmen skilfully manoeuvred Scipios boat so it was right next to the sewer outflow pipe, which only appeared above the waterline at low tide. Just as Nara had told them.
Right, Cal, Scipio whispered to his hulking Aztec Sergeant, were on.
Carefully, Necalli and Scipio slipped over the gunwales of the longboat and found their footing next to the sewer grate. The two riflemen gripped the metal grate and could both smell and feel the powdery rust on the wet metal. They heaved, but the grate did not move. They paused a moment and exchanged a glance.
Again, Scipio muttered, on three. One, two
They pulled again, harder, straining, and were rewarded by hearing the old, rusted metal groan. Their elation was smothered by their fear of being heard. They paused a moment, ears straining to hear a shout of alarm, but the night remained as still and as silent as the grave.
One more time, Scipio whispered.
This time, both the rusted iron and the aged cement in which it rested gave way. The tearing sound of metal and rock made Scipio wince, but nothing could be done about it. Another tug, and the grate gave way. Scipio could hear his men in the boats sighing out the exuberance they normally would have shouted. Gingerly, he and Necalli eased the heavy grate into the water behind them. Then they stared into the effluent tunnel.
Not the first time you and I have crawled through a sewer hole, Scipio muttered.
You always take me to the finest places, sir, Sergeant Necalli replied. He turned back towards the boats. Right, lads, he whispered, in we go.
The riflemen disembarked from the longboats and gathered inside the sewage pipe. The drain ran at an angle, so once they waded waist-deep through the water at its opening, they found themselves walking, stooped over, up the pipe, two abreast, with the effluent running down in a stinking stream between them.
Were not going to impress many of the local girls after walking through this stuff, Lallena muttered.
Quiet in the ranks! Necalli whispered urgently.
The men remained mostly silent for the remainder of their trip through the dark, malodorous drain. Now and then a man would slip in the dark and curse softly, and Scipio would restrain a strong urge to reach out and cuff the party responsible. He was sure theyd been heard or spotted at some point and would find a troop of Mongolian regulars waiting for them with bayonets at the ready. Thus far, however, theyd encountered no resistance.
Eventually, Scipio paused. This is it, he said when his hands blindly encountered metal rungs embedded in the stone. Without another word, he began to climb.
Less than a minute later, he had to bite back a curse when his head thumped against a heavy metal manhole cover.
Allow me, sir, Necalli whispered.
The big Aztec deftly eased himself past his officer on the same set of ladder rungs. He braced his broad back against the cold concrete wall, then gingerly lifted the manhole cover, grunting softly as he exerted himself. Not for the first time in their shared history, Scipio was glad to have the big Sergeant along.
With the cover out of the way, the dozen Romans scrambled upwards, glad to leave the stinking sewer behind them. They found themselves in a dark, silent alley and did their best to remain silent. They were now deep inside enemy territory without any hope of support from their comrades. They were completely and utterly alone.
Scipio glanced around at the dark shapes of the buildings surrounding the alley where his riflemen now crouched. The buildings were nearly as dark as the night sky, save for the occasional glow of a candle or a lantern in some window that emulated the cold, twinkling lights of the stars above. Scipio felt his stomach twinge with anxiety. He pushed the vulnerable feeling away. He had a job to do.
It only took him a moment to get his bearings. Naras instructions had been detailed and precise; he silently blessed the young woman for it. He found the north star in the sky, then set off down the alley in its direction, silently signalling for his riflemen to follow. Every man in the unit was tense. One rifleman coughed, and every one of his comrades turned and cast a murderous glance in his direction.
Scipio exhaled in frustration, but said nothing. So far, everything had gone well; but rather than assuring him, this only heightened his sense that something was going to go horribly wrong. Wasnt that always the way things went in his life? He shook his head as if he could force such distracting thoughts from it. He and his riflemen only had a few hours of darkness to accomplish their goal; it was best to ignore his superstitions and get on with it.
He reached the end of the alley. Cautiously, he peered out around the side of the building onto a secondary street lit by a few gas streetlights. The pale, yellowish light they cast flickered as they strove to illuminate the long, dark street. Directly across from him was the entrance to another alley; off to the right was a sign for a public house, decorated by a dragon. Scipio nodded and allowed himself to relax just a little. He was right where he was supposed to be. One more block over, across one more street, and theyd arrive at their first objective for the night.
Scipio looked down toward both ends of the street. Seeing it was abandoned, he patted Necalli on the shoulder and gestured with his head across the street. The big Aztec nodded and, without a moments hesitation, sprinted across the street and into the alleyway opposite. Once there, he pressed most of his bulk into the darkness the alley offered, holding out one hand with an upturned thumb back towards the rest of his unit.
Scipio sent Lallena across next. Then Silo. Then, one at a time, the remaining men of the unit. Half the men had safely made their way across the street when disaster struck.
The next rifleman was just about to sprint across the street when Scipio heard the sound of a low voice, speaking Mongolian, coming from down the street. He threw one arm out in front of the rifleman to hold him back, then carefully looked around the corner.
Two sentries were walking across the entrance to the street. Pass on by, Scipio silently willed them. But when they were halfway across, one of the sentries gestured down the street towards the two alleys where Scipios riflemen were hiding. The sentrys partner was gesturing in the direction theyd originally been heading, and Scipio hoped hed win the argument; perhaps he had a bottle or a woman he was anxious to get back to. But his partner, no doubt bucking for a promotion, won out, and with a resigned shrug, the reluctant sentry followed him down the street. Right towards Scipio and his men.
A silent string of curses ran through Scipios head. He leaned back into the alley so he was watching the two sentries approach with only one eye around the corner. The officious one was taking time to inspect every doorway on one side of the street, and gestured to his more slovenly comrade to do the same on the opposite side. Scipios teeth ground together; proceeding like that, of course theyd discover his men. He looked back. The alley wasnt deep enough for them to retreat and hide, and ducking back into the sewer would take too long. Across the street, Scipio could see Necalli watching him anxiously from the darkness, the dark shapes of the other half of the unit huddled behind him.
Scipios lips pressed together into a grim line. He had only seconds to make a decision. He shook his head and shrugged. Action was always better than inaction, he told himself. He cast one glance at Necalli, hoping to convey a silent message of be ready to the big Aztec. He then stepped out of the alley and began to walk up the street.
To call it walking, though, would be generous. More accurately, he began to haltingly stumble up the street towards the dutiful Mongolian sentry, who now froze in his tracks to watch this sole figure lumbering towards him. Scipio had been taught the words to a particularly coarse, bawdy Mongolian drinking song in Ning-Hsia; he began to sing it, or, more accurately, mumble it, hoping that his accent would be buried in the slurred speech of a drunk. He leaned against the wall of the building next to him, sometimes with this hand, sometimes with his shoulder. Besides conveying the image of a drunk, this also kept him in the darkest part of the street. Scipio hoped the sentries would not be able to discern his light brown hair and Roman uniform until it was too late.
The dutiful sentry barked something at him. Scipio pretended not to hear. He kept shuffling forward, his head bent down so his shako hid his sandy hair. He giggled drunkenly after softly singing what hed been told was a particularly crude verse. The sentry spoke to him again in curt, indignant Mongolian, then gestured to his comrade to join him.
Yes, Scipio thought, watching them from beneath the stubby peak of his shako. Come here, both of you, nice and close
The two sentries were walking towards them, and Scipio pretended to suddenly notice them and stopped in his tracksright in the darkest spot on the street, where he knew he wouldnt be visible as much more than a shadow. They were close now, five paces away. Scipio bent over and made sounds as though he were about to retch. The reluctant sentry made a disgusted noise and slowed his approach. His more dutiful companion was not put off, however, and walked right up to Scipio. With his limited Mongolian, Scipio thought he heard the words curfew, punish, and drunkard.
Not that any of that mattered, because a heartbeat later, the Mongolian was unable to speak.
Scipio had straightened suddenly and unexpectedly, and his knee drove into the sentrys groin with such force the man felt as though hed been struck with a sledgehammer. Scipio took a step back, grabbed the sentrys head, and pulled it down as he drove his knee up again. The mans nose broke with a wet, sickening crunch and he collapsed to the pavement.
Scipio stepped over him towards the second sentry, who was back-pedalling in panic. He reached out and caught the front of the mans overcoat, halting his backward progress. Scipios fist swung forward, aimed straight at the mans chin.
Even as he struck home, however, Scipio sensed that this second sentry would be more formidable than his dutiful partner. He rolled with the punch, twisting his entire body, and managed to free his coat from Scipios grasp in the progress. He stumbled away from the big Roman rifleman, who was right on his heels. Scipio tackled the man and they both dropped to the cobblestoned street. Scipio grabbed the mans head and pulled it back, preparing to smash it against the hard stones. Just before he could, however, he spotted the whistle in the mans mouth. Then he heard it blow.
Bloody hell! Scipio cursed as he rammed the mans forehead against the cobblestones. The sentry had stopped blowing on the whistlein fact, hed swallowed the thingbut the damage was done. Scipio smashed his opponents head against the ground twice more until he stopped moving, then one more time just to vent his anger.
Come on! Scipio hissed at the half-dozen riflemen still hiding in the alley near the sewer.
He then took off at a run towards the rest of his men, gratified to hear his soldiers worn boots slapping against the cobblestones. Once the two halves of the unit were reunited, they began to run down the alley, desperate to reach their destination before the whistle blast brought more Mongolian sentries to the scene.
This alley was long and dark; its far entrance looked like a narrow slit in a grimly-lit canyon. Scipio thought he heard voices in Mongolian far behind him. So other sentries, alerted by the whistles call, had discovered their fallen comrades. Maybe theyd just assume the men had been mugged? Then he heard more high-pitched whistles blowing. No, there was no way a soldier in a city under siege was going to shrug off an attack on one of their patrols.
Damn, damn, damn! Scipio cursed silently. Even if his men reached their destination, theyd have to hide there, maybe through the rest of the night and the next day. Even then, the inner city patrols would be increased and on the alert. And of course, there was a very good chance that theyd be discovered.
The next sound he heard made him realize that he neednt worry about fulfilling the plan. He and his men would be lucky to live through the night. Because echoing through the narrow alley, from both ends, came the sharp, heavy sound of horses hooves clattering on cobblestones.
Cavalry.
Scipio dug his heels in and came to a stop; his men followed suit. Looking down to the end of the alley, he could see them now: Mongolian cavalry, reputedly the best in the world, cantering in the street, the riders determinedly glancing about for any sign of intruders. The Romans, to a man, then glanced over their shoulders to the entrance to the alley, from whence theyd come. The same bone-chilling sight of armed men on horseback appeared there as well.
Scipio swallowed hard. His mouth and throat felt bone-dry. He and his paltry force of a dozen riflemen were trapped, bottled up in a narrow alley, ready to be picked off like so many apples stuck in a barrel. They were as good as dead.
Izipo
Hardcore casual gamer
Thanks for the update Sis.
Glad to see you haven't forgotten this.
Glad to see you haven't forgotten this.
What Izipo said. Great update. 
stuge
Emperor
As fine as ever. 
Stewie0416
Who Cares?
UPDATE YES!!! Don't have time now to read it but when I get back this is priority number 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I've read it! AMAZING!! You should really think of becoming a author!
I've read it! AMAZING!! You should really think of becoming a author!
DroopyTofu
Double Bass Double Bass
Amazing. Please don't leave us with that cliff hanger too long. Please 
If you do... :suicide:
If you do... :suicide:
Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
Chapter 16 Scipio's Sabre
Marcus Scipio and the Battle of New Serai, 1770 AD
Part 4
Scipio didnt believe the situation could get any worse. He and nearly a dozen other Roman riflemen were cowering in an alley in the Mongolian city of New Serai, awaiting discovery by two squads of cavalry clearly visible at each end of the narrow passageway. When they were discovered, a quick charge by each squad would cut the trapped riflemen to ribbons.
The tall Roman lieutenant grunted quietly in resignation. He pulled his rifle from where it was slung over his shoulder. Several of his comrades emulated him.
Well give them a hell of a fight, lads, he muttered. Well take more than a few of them to hell with us.
Around him, his men softly murmured their assentand their resignation to their fate. He heard them quietly checking the breeches of their rifles, ensuring they were loaded. Then Scipio felt a hand on his forearm and frowned, wondering who among his riflemen would indulge in such a gesture. Then he heard a voice whispering from directly behind him.
This way! Hurry!
It was a womans voice, which made him notice that the hand on his arm was small and delicate, though a sudden, anxious squeeze bespoke of a strength that belied the size of that hand. His eyes widened in surprise, then in recognition.
Nara? Scipio whispered.
This way, you Roman numbskulls! she hissed urgently.
In the dark, she didnt see Scipios mouth twist into a lopsided grin, which was just as well. As he looked in her direction, he could just make out her silhouette, outlined by an extremely dim light emanating from a doorway behind her.
You heard the lady, he whispered to his men, this way, quick now! And stay quiet!
With the odds stacked against them as they were, the Romans didnt need to be told twice. Quickly and quietly, they shuffled after the petite Mongolian spy into the dimly-lit doorway. She eased the door closed behind them, then Scipio helped her bar it with a wooden brace. Shed left a candle on the floor a few paces back, which was the only source of light in the low, dingy hallway where the Romans now found themselves. One rifleman raised it, trying to increase the meagre illumination it provided, but Nara turned quickly and blew the candle out, plunging them all into darkness. A moment later, they heard the sound of hoofs clattering upon the cobblestones of the alley right outside the door.
The Romans and their Mongolian saviour held themselves as still as possible. Scipio, Necalli, and several others aimed their loaded rifles at the doorway, expecting it to burst open at any moment. They could hear voices in Mongolian on the other side. Sweat trickled down Scipios face and into his eyes, but he was so tense he didnt notice its sting.
Then they heard horses hooves clopping away down the alley and off into the distance, and every man there let out the breath he didnt realize hed been holding until that moment. A couple of them laughed softly and nervously as they reflected on the close call theyd just survived.
Good timing, love, Scipio murmured to Nara in the darkness.
He heard a match scraping against flint, then saw it ignite. She re-lit her candle. As always, Scipio was struck by her beauty. Her long dark hair was pulled back from her face, which only emphasized her high cheekbones and dark, almond-shaped eyes.
But her delicate features were drawn into an angry frown as she looked at him. She hissed something in Mongolian; with his limited understanding of the language, Scipio could only discern some sort of reference to his head, and to a very foul substance with which she was asserting it must be filled.
Good to see you too, he responded.
Nara sniffed at him derisively, then her nose wrinkled. You really need to change your cologne, she remarked in Latin, one slender brow raised.
You didnt mind it so much last time, Scipio replied, reminding them both of their previous adventure, when shed crawled through a sewer with him and his comrades to escape a horde of Mongolian rebels.
I hate to interrupt this tender reunion, Sergeant Necalli said pointedly, but what do we do now? Stay here all night? Those patrols have probably cut us off from the storehouse.
Nara turned her contemptuous gaze upon the big Aztec. Necalli was fearless on a battlefield, but Scipio noted with a smirk that this small, fine-feature Mongolian woman made the big man wince.
Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Sergeant, she said, her voice positively oozing sarcasm. Fortunately for you, I took account of your typical Roman inability to go anywhere without calling attention to yourselves.
Scipio ignored the insult and smiled at her. You have a backup plan, he said.
Of course I do, she said impatiently, but that doesnt make our task tonight any easier, or less risky. Quite the opposite, in fact. So follow me, do what I say, and try not to alert any more sentries to your presence, will you?
With that, she turned and began marching down the hall. She stopped a few paces onwards and looked back over her shoulder. Coming? she said expectantly.
Scipio gave his head a shake, then set off after her while beckoning over his shoulder for his men to follow.
Women, Silo muttered as they walked deeper into the dimly-lit building. Cant live with them...
...cant shoot them, Lallena added, before a stern glare from his Sergeant urged him to silence.
Colonel Subotai sat behind his desk and glared at his subordinate. He desperately needed sleep and was irritated that hed been roused from his bed in the middle of the night. But he stifled a yawn and sat up straight, unwilling to betray a sign of weakness in front of his men. Especially not now, just as the siege of the city was beginning.
You lost him, Subotai said accusingly.
The Captain of New Serais guard dropped his head to acknowledge his superiors conclusion, and his own shame. The Colonels teeth ground in irritation; his officers should know better than to indulge in unwarranted displays of emotion. Was he in command of a garrison of warriors or of women?
So find him, Captain, Subotai snarled. And do not report back to me until you do!
Sir! the Captain responded, snapping to attention and saluting quickly before he turned on his heel and marched out of the office to obey the order.
Subotai watched him go. Once he was alone, the Mongolian Colonel slumped in his chair and sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. As if being surrounded by the Roman army wasnt bad enough, now he had something else to worry about. One sentry was dead, choked on his own whistle of all things; an ignoble end, albeit gruesomely amusing to those with a black sense of humour. His partner was in the infirmary. The injured man had recovered his senses long enough to relate that hed been attacked not by a Mongolian, but by a Roman.
The Colonel rose angrily from his desk. A Roman! Here, inside his city already! How could he have gotten in? Subotai shook his head and shrugged. There was always a way in; hed sent men to sneak inside English cities on more than a few occasions a few years ago, when hed been fighting with the Khan against the enemy in the north.
Now the shoe was on the other foot. Colonel Subotai experienced a brief moment of sympathy for those English city governors hed been facing. He dismissed the feeling quickly, regarding it as an unwelcome sign of weaknessno doubt another product of his fatigue.
His emotions and his weariness did not matter; the situation did. Subotai focused on that. What was this man up to? Was he a spy? A saboteur? Was he alone? Did he have help inside the city from traitors? These questions and many others plagued him and ensured that he would not be getting any more sleep tonight, since answers would not be forthcoming until the man was caught.
Subotai walked over to the window of his office. Over the top of the lower building next door, he could see the dark outline of New Serais city walls. Beyond that, spreading out in all directions, he could see hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of small, twinkling fires that betrayed the location and size of the enemy camp.
A shiver ran down his spine. New Serais walls were high and thick; the city had an underground source of fresh water, stores of food and ammunition, and hundreds of soldiers and ordinary citizens determine to resist the foreign invader. Yet he knew it wouldnt be enough. The Romans, he had to admit, reminded him of his own people in some respects: they were relentless and determined, and were convinced it was their destiny to rule the world. But they were a practical people as well. He tried to put himself in the shoesno, into the mind of his nemesis, the Roman General, Rutullus. Could he bargain with the man, he wondered?
With a derisive snort, Subotai turned away from the window and abandoned that idea. He remembered the response of his Khan when hed once suggested negotiating with the mayor of an English city for its surrender: Wolves do not bargain with sheep, the Khan had said contemptuously.
And wolves do not bargain with other wolves, either, Subotai muttered, glancing out of his window at the enemy campfires again. He nodded, and his upper lip curled back into a sneer. So be it.
This Roman whod snuck into his city like a rat from the sewers did not matter. He was as good as dead. In a Greek city, he might have passed for a local; but in a Mongolian city, he would stick out like a faulty nail in a board of woodand like a nail, he would be hammered down. His fate would be shared by any other Romans who might be with him, along with any traitors who might be helping him. The city was not so large, and searching for the intruder gave the Colonels bored yet eager troops something to do. It was only a matter of time before he was found.
A grim smile appeared on the Colonels thin lips. He had decided to take a personal interest in the intruder once he was caught. Withstanding a siege was proving to be tedious; overseeing the Romans torture would provide the Colonel with several hours of much-needed amusement.
Suddenly he felt energized. If you want a job done right, he reflected, you had to do it yourself. He marched to the door of this office and opened it. As usual, a servant was waiting outside.
Have my horse prepared, and my uniform readied, he said to the man. Im going to take charge of the search for the intruder myself.
Marcus Scipio and the Battle of New Serai, 1770 AD
Part 4
Scipio didnt believe the situation could get any worse. He and nearly a dozen other Roman riflemen were cowering in an alley in the Mongolian city of New Serai, awaiting discovery by two squads of cavalry clearly visible at each end of the narrow passageway. When they were discovered, a quick charge by each squad would cut the trapped riflemen to ribbons.
The tall Roman lieutenant grunted quietly in resignation. He pulled his rifle from where it was slung over his shoulder. Several of his comrades emulated him.
Well give them a hell of a fight, lads, he muttered. Well take more than a few of them to hell with us.
Around him, his men softly murmured their assentand their resignation to their fate. He heard them quietly checking the breeches of their rifles, ensuring they were loaded. Then Scipio felt a hand on his forearm and frowned, wondering who among his riflemen would indulge in such a gesture. Then he heard a voice whispering from directly behind him.
This way! Hurry!
It was a womans voice, which made him notice that the hand on his arm was small and delicate, though a sudden, anxious squeeze bespoke of a strength that belied the size of that hand. His eyes widened in surprise, then in recognition.
Nara? Scipio whispered.
This way, you Roman numbskulls! she hissed urgently.
In the dark, she didnt see Scipios mouth twist into a lopsided grin, which was just as well. As he looked in her direction, he could just make out her silhouette, outlined by an extremely dim light emanating from a doorway behind her.
You heard the lady, he whispered to his men, this way, quick now! And stay quiet!
With the odds stacked against them as they were, the Romans didnt need to be told twice. Quickly and quietly, they shuffled after the petite Mongolian spy into the dimly-lit doorway. She eased the door closed behind them, then Scipio helped her bar it with a wooden brace. Shed left a candle on the floor a few paces back, which was the only source of light in the low, dingy hallway where the Romans now found themselves. One rifleman raised it, trying to increase the meagre illumination it provided, but Nara turned quickly and blew the candle out, plunging them all into darkness. A moment later, they heard the sound of hoofs clattering upon the cobblestones of the alley right outside the door.
The Romans and their Mongolian saviour held themselves as still as possible. Scipio, Necalli, and several others aimed their loaded rifles at the doorway, expecting it to burst open at any moment. They could hear voices in Mongolian on the other side. Sweat trickled down Scipios face and into his eyes, but he was so tense he didnt notice its sting.
Then they heard horses hooves clopping away down the alley and off into the distance, and every man there let out the breath he didnt realize hed been holding until that moment. A couple of them laughed softly and nervously as they reflected on the close call theyd just survived.
Good timing, love, Scipio murmured to Nara in the darkness.
He heard a match scraping against flint, then saw it ignite. She re-lit her candle. As always, Scipio was struck by her beauty. Her long dark hair was pulled back from her face, which only emphasized her high cheekbones and dark, almond-shaped eyes.
But her delicate features were drawn into an angry frown as she looked at him. She hissed something in Mongolian; with his limited understanding of the language, Scipio could only discern some sort of reference to his head, and to a very foul substance with which she was asserting it must be filled.
Good to see you too, he responded.
Nara sniffed at him derisively, then her nose wrinkled. You really need to change your cologne, she remarked in Latin, one slender brow raised.
You didnt mind it so much last time, Scipio replied, reminding them both of their previous adventure, when shed crawled through a sewer with him and his comrades to escape a horde of Mongolian rebels.
I hate to interrupt this tender reunion, Sergeant Necalli said pointedly, but what do we do now? Stay here all night? Those patrols have probably cut us off from the storehouse.
Nara turned her contemptuous gaze upon the big Aztec. Necalli was fearless on a battlefield, but Scipio noted with a smirk that this small, fine-feature Mongolian woman made the big man wince.
Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Sergeant, she said, her voice positively oozing sarcasm. Fortunately for you, I took account of your typical Roman inability to go anywhere without calling attention to yourselves.
Scipio ignored the insult and smiled at her. You have a backup plan, he said.
Of course I do, she said impatiently, but that doesnt make our task tonight any easier, or less risky. Quite the opposite, in fact. So follow me, do what I say, and try not to alert any more sentries to your presence, will you?
With that, she turned and began marching down the hall. She stopped a few paces onwards and looked back over her shoulder. Coming? she said expectantly.
Scipio gave his head a shake, then set off after her while beckoning over his shoulder for his men to follow.
Women, Silo muttered as they walked deeper into the dimly-lit building. Cant live with them...
...cant shoot them, Lallena added, before a stern glare from his Sergeant urged him to silence.
* * *
Colonel Subotai sat behind his desk and glared at his subordinate. He desperately needed sleep and was irritated that hed been roused from his bed in the middle of the night. But he stifled a yawn and sat up straight, unwilling to betray a sign of weakness in front of his men. Especially not now, just as the siege of the city was beginning.
You lost him, Subotai said accusingly.
The Captain of New Serais guard dropped his head to acknowledge his superiors conclusion, and his own shame. The Colonels teeth ground in irritation; his officers should know better than to indulge in unwarranted displays of emotion. Was he in command of a garrison of warriors or of women?
So find him, Captain, Subotai snarled. And do not report back to me until you do!
Sir! the Captain responded, snapping to attention and saluting quickly before he turned on his heel and marched out of the office to obey the order.
Subotai watched him go. Once he was alone, the Mongolian Colonel slumped in his chair and sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. As if being surrounded by the Roman army wasnt bad enough, now he had something else to worry about. One sentry was dead, choked on his own whistle of all things; an ignoble end, albeit gruesomely amusing to those with a black sense of humour. His partner was in the infirmary. The injured man had recovered his senses long enough to relate that hed been attacked not by a Mongolian, but by a Roman.
The Colonel rose angrily from his desk. A Roman! Here, inside his city already! How could he have gotten in? Subotai shook his head and shrugged. There was always a way in; hed sent men to sneak inside English cities on more than a few occasions a few years ago, when hed been fighting with the Khan against the enemy in the north.
Now the shoe was on the other foot. Colonel Subotai experienced a brief moment of sympathy for those English city governors hed been facing. He dismissed the feeling quickly, regarding it as an unwelcome sign of weaknessno doubt another product of his fatigue.
His emotions and his weariness did not matter; the situation did. Subotai focused on that. What was this man up to? Was he a spy? A saboteur? Was he alone? Did he have help inside the city from traitors? These questions and many others plagued him and ensured that he would not be getting any more sleep tonight, since answers would not be forthcoming until the man was caught.
Subotai walked over to the window of his office. Over the top of the lower building next door, he could see the dark outline of New Serais city walls. Beyond that, spreading out in all directions, he could see hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of small, twinkling fires that betrayed the location and size of the enemy camp.
A shiver ran down his spine. New Serais walls were high and thick; the city had an underground source of fresh water, stores of food and ammunition, and hundreds of soldiers and ordinary citizens determine to resist the foreign invader. Yet he knew it wouldnt be enough. The Romans, he had to admit, reminded him of his own people in some respects: they were relentless and determined, and were convinced it was their destiny to rule the world. But they were a practical people as well. He tried to put himself in the shoesno, into the mind of his nemesis, the Roman General, Rutullus. Could he bargain with the man, he wondered?
With a derisive snort, Subotai turned away from the window and abandoned that idea. He remembered the response of his Khan when hed once suggested negotiating with the mayor of an English city for its surrender: Wolves do not bargain with sheep, the Khan had said contemptuously.
And wolves do not bargain with other wolves, either, Subotai muttered, glancing out of his window at the enemy campfires again. He nodded, and his upper lip curled back into a sneer. So be it.
This Roman whod snuck into his city like a rat from the sewers did not matter. He was as good as dead. In a Greek city, he might have passed for a local; but in a Mongolian city, he would stick out like a faulty nail in a board of woodand like a nail, he would be hammered down. His fate would be shared by any other Romans who might be with him, along with any traitors who might be helping him. The city was not so large, and searching for the intruder gave the Colonels bored yet eager troops something to do. It was only a matter of time before he was found.
A grim smile appeared on the Colonels thin lips. He had decided to take a personal interest in the intruder once he was caught. Withstanding a siege was proving to be tedious; overseeing the Romans torture would provide the Colonel with several hours of much-needed amusement.
Suddenly he felt energized. If you want a job done right, he reflected, you had to do it yourself. He marched to the door of this office and opened it. As usual, a servant was waiting outside.
Have my horse prepared, and my uniform readied, he said to the man. Im going to take charge of the search for the intruder myself.
DroopyTofu
Double Bass Double Bass
Yay, Sis does care about my mental and emotional health!!! Great update. You rule Sis!
sophie
Break My Heart
The story gets more sinister by the update!
We want more! we want more!
We want more! we want more!
Pieman
Prince
Good update, eagerly awaiting the next.
Matthew5117
Emperor
I'm caught up now. (Don't get me wrong, I like the recent updates!!!!)
Just an idea though, Sis.
If you don't have any inspiration concerning the greek war or whatnot, you could have an ancestor telling a grandchild the history of the greek war rather than having to write about it step by step.
In the history of the greek war, you could even have an assassination of Alexander by a spy (perhaps Nara?!?) and display the devastating effects of that with cities being captured in a rapid succession.
Maybe even with that, after Elizabeth and Julius are reunited, a greek spy kills Elizabeth?!?!?!
That would be awesome!
Btw, I am not offended if you don't take this idea. In fact, I am perfectly fine with you saying straight up, "NO!"
After all it is your series, and you've done a GREAT job writing it!The Noble Men chapter, the best thing I've ever read!
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