~ ~ ~ ~
Caesar had sent some of his heavier ships out of the harbor around to the north side of the island, where they were laying down a barrage with the artillery that the ships carried in order to draw the defenders away from the south side of the island. Pulling closer to the island, I could see that if it was successful at all, it was only partially so, the rooftops of the buildings closest to the shore lined with men.
“Uh-oh.”
I looked over at Valens, the one who uttered the warning, then followed his gaze. Coming towards us from the Inner Harbor were five warships, along with a number of smaller craft, heading for the northern drawbridge of the Heptastadion. Their intent was obvious; they wanted to head us off and keep us from landing. The island had originally only been home to the lighthouse, but in the intervening years, what was in effect a suburb of Alexandria grew up around it, so that now almost the entire island was covered with buildings and streets. The houses were mean; it was clear that the island was home to the lower classes, probably seafaring men, shipbuilders, and their families. Now those houses appeared to be filled with soldiers of the Egyptian army, and once we approached within missile range, the first bolts from their scorpions and rocks from their ballistae began hurtling our way. Nothing struck our boat, though I was soaked to the skin by a near miss, causing some amusement among the men.
Now within a hundred paces, I scanned the shore, feeling a tightening in my throat. We knew the shore was rocky, but viewing it from a rooftop a mile away and then seeing it up close were two different things. It was clear that we would have to climb more than ten feet over rocks, all while the Egyptians were firing down at us. The first of the boats was pulling up to the shore, men beginning to leap out into the water and wade ashore, trying to grab a foothold while keeping their shields above their heads. Almost immediately men were hit, most lucky enough to fall onto the rocks, but a small number of men fell backwards into the water, their armor dragging them under before any crewmember on the nearest boat could offer them an oar and pull them to safety. It quickly became obvious that there were only one or two suitable spots where the water was shallow enough for men to jump out without drowning, and our boat headed for where the first boat had landed, pausing long enough for it to move away. Our craft scraped the bottom several feet from the shore. Without waiting, I jumped over the side, landing in water slightly above my waist, Valens right behind me. Naturally, we drew the most fire by virtue of our transverse crests and the fact we were not carrying shields so we had to dodge everything coming our way while trying to keep our footing. I made it to shore, beginning the climb over the rocks, Valens and the men of his Century close behind. We made it across the rocks, joining the other men who were looking for their standards to form up.
“Seventh of the 6th, on me,” I bellowed, grabbing Valens’ signifer, pointing to a spot that gave us room to form up. With men streaming ashore, I noticed that the missile fire was slackening. I looked up to see that for some reason, the Egyptians were leaving their position on the roofs, not that I was complaining since it gave us a respite from the constant harassing fire. If they wanted to give up a strong position, I was not going to argue. The other benefit was that it gave us time to form up. Once we did so, we began marching along the length of the island on the gravel path serving as the ring road around the outside of the buildings, looking for an entrance into the village. While we marched, the reason for the disappearance of the Egyptians became apparent when they appeared from around the corner of a side street, coming face to face with us, arrayed in their own formation. For a moment, both sides stopped to stare at each other. During the pause, I took a look around to see that two of my Centuries were leading the assault force, aligned side by side. Without waiting, I gave the command to move forward in assault positions, and we began closing the distance. Making a quick decision, I ordered the men to drop their javelins to go immediately to the sword. Raising my arm, I held it aloft for a split second, then let out a roar.
“Porro!”
The men leaped forward, sounding their battle cry, closing the distance quickly to slam into the Egyptians, and I had just enough time to see the look of shock and fear on their brown faces as we cut them down. It was only a matter of moments before they broke and ran for their lives. Our men slaughtered them, running after them and killing as many as possible before they could escape. The panic of the soldiers infected the civilians who had remained behind, the narrow streets of the village quickly becoming choked with fleeing people. At times like this, it is hard to restrain men whose bloodlust has been set afire from putting anyone with whom they come into contact to the sword, so a large number of civilians were killed in the rout, and it took several moments to get the men under control. We had penetrated several blocks into the village, but we were still short of the Heptastadion, and Caesar sent orders from his flagship to stop the advance and wait for the rest of the landing force. Since there were only a couple suitable sites, the landing was taking longer than expected and Caesar deemed that it was better to wait than press the assault with only a part of our force.
Unfortunately, Ganymede was not waiting. Once he saw what we were doing, he ordered a scratch force assembled from the contingents of marines on the ships in the harbor, sending them to land on the southwestern end of the island, which had better landing sites than where we came ashore. Egyptians began streaming off the rocky beach and heading into the depths of the village to join the others already there. Looking over my shoulder, I cursed that we were still not disembarked, though it appeared that there were only three or four boats left. Calculating that it would be another few moments before they were finished, followed by the time it took to finish forming up, I knew that gave the enemy ample time to land a few thousand men and have them take up positions in the village that could make them difficult to dislodge. I could only hope that they would make the same mistake twice in not taking advantage of the high ground. While we waited, I called a conference of my Centurions.
“Have any of you or the men had any experience fighting house to house?”
They glanced at one another, but they all shook their heads.
“Have you, Primus Pilus?”
I thought back 14 years to the first town in Lusitania that we had assaulted when I had first drawn, and shed, blood. Looking at the square stone buildings that stood before us and comparing them to my memories of that town, and all the other towns and cities of Gaul we had assaulted, I shook my head.
“Not anything like this. In Gaul, most of the houses are made of mud and sticks. They’re solid enough, but only the main halls and barracks were made like even the smallest house here. No, I don’t.”
We regarded each other and I just shrugged. There was nothing to be done about it now; we would just have to do our best.
~ ~ ~ ~
Once the rest of the assault force joined up, we arrayed our lines along the first north-south street, shaking out into Century formation, three Centuries for each street running east and west, one following the other. Once the men got into position, we waited for a moment, and then Caesar, who had come ashore, dipped his standard as the cornu sounded the advance. The men began to march, moving only a few blocks when we ran into the first line of resistance and I saw that we would not be so lucky this time. The Egyptian marines had climbed back onto the roofs originally abandoned by the militia, arraying themselves on a north and south axis, where they began flinging their javelins at us. The windows and doors on the ground floor were full of men as well, some of them armed with bows, with the rest flinging rocks at us. The missiles started flying thick and furious, forcing me to give the command for the front Century to form a testudo. The racket of javelin, arrow, and rock striking the shields of the men of Clemens’ Century, who I had given the lead, was horrific, and I could barely make myself heard. The air seemed like every inch of it was filled with some sort of missile. I heard men crying out and cursing as they were hit or scared by a near miss, but I knew that either there would come a moment where the enemy would stop, even if no signal were given, because their supply of missiles ran low or they had to grab a breath. This was the moment I was waiting for. It is a tricky business going from testudo to wedge formation under any circumstances and normally I would not have tried it, but I had confidence in these men, trusting that they would understand what I was doing and would perform the maneuver as quickly as it needed to be done. The order to charge would immediately follow the call to wedge, and I was going to aim the wedge directly for the door of the nearest building containing the enemy. Turning to yell to Felix, whose Century was following Clemens, I told him to form his own wedge, pointing towards the next building over as his target. I did not know what Valens was doing; he was one street over, but I could only be in one place at a time and I would have to trust him to do the right thing. The moment I was waiting for came, the sound of the missiles striking whatever was in their path subsiding, much in the same way when rain suddenly lets up, almost ceasing altogether, and I gave the command. I was pleased with how quickly the men moved, smoothly lowering their shields while shuffling into their assigned spots in the wedge.