HPLN: Chapter 56

I watched as the small Cyrenaican Fleet advanced from the safety of the Spear of Ambracia, my son and heir, Ptolemy, next to me. As Admiral Porphyrios and his second, his nephew Eurybatos, directed our own fleet, I made a count of the enemy ships. Their fleet was small, too small to drive us off. We had arrived with two-hundred-fifty ships, the bulk of them Quadriremes, but also with a strong core of seventy-five Dromons as well. The Cyrenaican Fleet, by contrast, stood at one hundred ships, only a quarter of which were larger than a trireme, and of those, only the Flagship, the Xiphos of Cyrene, was a Quinquireme, the rest being Quadriremes.

"I wonder what they're playing at?" I questioned.

"Perhaps they're just trying to buy time, Father?" Queried Ptolemy.

"Indeed, but for what? Magas has already marched his army into Upper Egypt. He's attempted to link up with Ptolemy Philadelphos and had his nose bloodied at Lake Moeris. Correspondence from Ptolemy Kerounos' forces confirmed this. It's why we struck when we did. Any message would have to travel for days through Marmarica with the Nasamones who live in the deserts looking to potentially capture the messenger." I mused.

"You think that there may be a trap?" Asked Ptolemy.

"It is generally wise to suspect such in these sorts of circumstances, son. Best tell Admiral Porphyrios to target the lead ships of the enemy flotilla with our Dromons, just in case they are fire ships." I confirmed.

Ptolemy nodded at that and headed off to relay my order to Admiral Porphyrios. As it turned out, I needn't have bothered sending him, because Admiral Porphyrios had already anticipated just such a maneuver. He had already sent Eurybatos to the Semophore Man to relay skirmish line and targeting orders. My fleet managed to switch into skirmish order just as the Dromons began to fire, their projectiles soaked in pitch and set alight, in the hopes of springing the trap. As the first volley left the ballistae of our fleet, I released my son to learn how ships were commanded in battle. I mostly had theoretical knowledge of such things, but I wanted Ptolemy to have a more well-rounded breadth of experience for when I was gone. He spent the rest of the battle learning alongside Eurybatos from Admiral Porphyrios.

Speaking of the battle, it seemed that only the lead ten ships were fire ships in disguise. Our flaming projectiles struck them and forced their crews to bail out early as the ten lead Cyrenaican Triremes, packed full of combustible materials, went up like floating pyres as our incendiary projectiles hit. They managed to disrupt the Cyrenaicans' plans, though some of the Quadriremes, along with their flagship, managed to make it around the blaze in order to attack our flank. Thankfully, Admiral Porphyrios was well experienced, and he knew how to shift our fleet's formations, absorbing the flank attack with a screen of Quadriremes, even as he sent another squadron to harry the remainder of the enemy fleet. I watched in satisfaction as the trap was turned around on the Cyrenaicans expertly.

After a single hour of fighting at sea, half of the Cyrenaican Fleet was captured or sunk, with the other half having fled for the Fortified Cothon Harbor of Appolonia. This included the Xiphos of Cyrene. The Cyrenaican Flagship had been boarded by Marines from three of our quadriremes, overwhelmed, and captured. Now the way was open for the army to land. As Ptolemy returned to me, I nodded at my Eldest Son, who cracked a grin.

"Did you learn something?" I questioned.

"I did." Nodded Ptolemy.

"Then stay with Admiral Porphyrios for the rest of the day and learn more." I insisted.

"Father?" Queried Ptolemy.

"I want you to have more than just my largely theoretical knowledge of how things work aboard a ship at war, Son. I want you to have a decent amount of practical experience as well." I answered.

"Appolonia is there for the taking. You won't take me into the city with you? Why is it more important to you that I learn Naval Arts than ride into Appolonia in triumph alongside you?" Asked Ptolemy.

I looked at my son, saw the defiant glint in his eye and the steel in his spine, and blew out a sigh. Ptolemy was such a good kid that I often forgot he was still a teenager. When I was his age, back in my Old Life, I'd been stubborn like that too. The same for Pyrrhus, if I were being honest. I shook my head at him and reassured my son that I wasn't leaving him behind.

"I doubt Appolonia will fall on a single day, Son. However, the experience you will gain from learning under Admiral Porphyrios is something I do not have. I am no Admiral, not truly. With luck, however, you will be. When the time comes for Appolonia to fall, you will be with me, but it won't happen in a day, no matter how soundly we thrashed their fleet." I placated.

"Very well, Father. I will stay on board the Spear of Ambracia and learn what I can." Acquiesced Ptolemy, now that he knew that I wasn't going to leave him behind on the fleet while I took Appolonia.

In fact, I was right about how tough a nut to crack Appolonia would wind up being. It took three weeks for us to not only set up a siege camp but also to build trebuchets and begin battering down the walls of Appolonia, which were thick enough to resist attack by mere ballistae. Ptolemy spent most of that time learning from Admiral Porphyrios, with me only calling him back in time for the assault. As it turned out, the defenders of Appolonia were disheartened enough from the late spring siege that lasted into the early summer, and the swift defeat of their fleet, that attacking through the multiple breaches was easy enough. Ptolemy was right by my side as we attacked, with me leading one of the Chiliarchoi assaulting through one breach and Ptolemy acting as my second.

As we advanced, we did so under the cover of a shower of Bodkin-Tipped Arrows fired from Nubian-style Longbows. Our projectiles issued forth like rain and scythed down defenders in the dozens. By comparison, the slingers that were on the walls to either side of the breach fired back in more of a drizzle. However, drizzle or no, lead bullets from a sling could still be deadly, as was proven when the man to my left in the Chiliarchy caught a sling bullet through the open face of his Attic Helmet, smashing the front of his skull like an egg as we finally came into range of the slingers. Now, Javelins joined the hail of bodkin-tipped arrows, reaping even more of a deadly toll among the defenders. It was just as we were about to come within range of the breach that the defenders of Appolonia unleashed a final, nasty, surprise on us.

The ranks of Militia Hoplites and Libyan Spearmen, stiffened with a few Thureophoroi, parted as a group of men, unarmored save for their bronze helms, strode forth. It wasn't their armor that was the problem, however, but their weapons. Large frames of wood with a compound prong made of animal glue and layers of wood and sinew, the Gastraphetes, or Belly-Bow, was a precursor to the more formal crossbow of the Medieval Period. It would punch through armor, possibly even our Steel Armor, if the iron bolt hit. Our only chance was to lock our shields before charging them down while they reloaded, as the Gastraphetes was a cumbersome weapon to use outside of siege or naval warfare.

"Shields! Shields!" I called out.

Immediately, I locked my shield with the man to my left. I was gratified to find Ptolemy doing likewise with my own shield. He'd been well-drilled by his tutors, thank whatever Gods that ROB wanted to impersonate. We just about managed to get the shield wall up and functional as the Gastraphetes Militiamen formed up to fire their first shot. As we hunkered down to try and ride out the storm of iron bolts, however, I knew we would take casualties. Indeed, even my own shield was punched clean through by the solid iron bolt of a Gastraphetes shot, stopping just an inch away from my eye. Ptolemy had been luckier. The bolt that had been coming for him had struck his shield at an odd angle and rebounded off into the dirt. Others hadn't been as lucky, being scythed down by the bolts. Now, however, the Gastraphetes Militia would have to reload, and as I stood, I realized we still had more than enough strength to carry the day.

"Attack! Charge them and hack them down!" I bellowed the order to attack.

Immediately, my force surged forward, Ptolemy and I at its head, forming the very tip of the spear. Speaking of which, I hefted the Hasta Spear I had been carrying in an underhand grip and threw it like a Javelin, the six-foot length of steel and wood propelled by main strength to impale a bellowing Officer of the Gastraphetes Militia who was trying to get his men to fall back in good order behind the spears. The spear punched through his Linothorax and practically pinned him to the ground. That caused the Gastraphetes Militiamen to go from falling back in an orderly manner straight to running for their lives, bungling their way through the formation of mixed Spears behind them instead of using them for cover. I drew my Falcata, and we plunged into the chaotic mass.

Immediately, I cut out at the neck of a tripped-up Libyan Spearman who had stumbled to the ground after being shoved into by a fleeing Gastraphetes Militiaman. My Falcata decapitated him in a single stroke, even as I smashed the steel rim of my shield into the face of Thureophoroi who had been trying to close a gap opened up in the wall of spears by the rout of the Gastraphetes Militiamen. His helmet, an Italo-Celtic Helm that he had likely purchased from a visiting Massilian Merchant, didn't stop my shield from caving in the bridge of his nose and smashing his face in. He fell, choking on his own blood as I turned to cut a thrown javelin out of the air that was aimed at Ptolemy, who was attacking a Levy Hoplite with the horsehair crest of an officer sticking out of his Chalcidian Helmet. As I did that, my son managed to trap the Officer's Hasta Spear against the ground with his shield and plunge his own spear through the Man's throat. Then, together, we charged for the gap that had been opened in the ranks of the enemy formation.

It was a slaughter. After the brief moment of initial stiff resistance had passed, the enemy seemed to reach the end of their morale. Many surrendered, throwing down their weapons. A few tried to flee deeper into the City, only to be cut down. Others stood their ground admirably enough, mostly among the Thureophoroi and Libyan Spearmen, but they couldn't stem the tide. After twenty-five minutes of fighting for it, the Breach was ours. Come to find out, the same held true for two of the other breaches, with only the breach closest to the Harbor rebuffing the Chilliarchy sent in to storm it, largely thanks to drawing reinforcements from the Marines in the fortified Cothon Harbor, now that they couldn't sail out to fight at sea.

By the end of the day, Appolonia was ours, its Commander having committed Suicide after deeming the defense unrecoverable, which caused the collapse to hasten. In the end, we had managed to win a victory here. All told, to seize Appolonia, I had lost six ships sunk in the Naval Battle, and roughly five hundred men killed and five hundred wounded. Not even a full Chiliarchy as casualties. The enemy had suffered sixty ships captured and forty sunk, including their flagship, the Xiphos of Cyrene, as well as two thousand men captured and two thousand men killed, plus the capture of the Port City.

The day after, I sacrificed the Xiphis of Cyrene and one thousand sets of captured enemy equipment to Poseidon and Ares, respectively. Then rested my troops for three days. By the time that the Eighteenth of June arrived, and I was ready to move back out, it would turn out that I would need the blessings of the Gods. Magas of Cyrene, not content to wait in Lower Egypt for the Fall Campaign Season, had done the most reckless thing he could have done in the middle of the North African Summer. He turned his army around and began marching back across the deserts of Marmarica to counterattack my force. I sent Admiral Porphyrion to attack Ptolemais west along the coast to take it by Naval Assault, before marching my Army southeast toward Egypt and Magas, leaving a garrison behind in Appolonia.

We would meet just South of the Agricultural Colony of Antipyrgos on the Coast of Marmarica, three days later on the Twenty-First of July, Two-Seventy-Seven. Both our armies lined up at the base of an Escarpment, with my army partway up the gently sloping hill leading to the top of the escarpment, a benefit of our ability to choose the battleground ahead of the enemy. The idea was that Magas had hopefully tired his army out crossing the Marmarican Desert, and would tire his men out even further advancing against us uphill. We would see how well that worked out in practice.

Hopefully, it would allow us to win this battle decisively enough that I wouldn't have to worry about Magas for the rest of the War. As the horns sounded and the battle began, I whispered a prayer to whatever ROB might be impersonating Ares that my hopes would be borne out before getting my head back in the game. I had a battle to win and a province to seize, after all.

It wouldn't do to get distracted now. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so here's the next chapter. As you can see, Appolonia Falls by the middle of June, Two-Seventy-Seven, and Pyrrhus gets his heir not only more seasoning in combat, but also has Admiral Porphyrios give him a crash course in Naval Matters as well. Pyrrhus wants Ptolemy to be well-rounded, after all, even if Ptolemy showed a bit of teenage mulishness at first on hearing that. On the other hand, now Magas has done something he probably shouldn't have and marched his army across the desert in the middle of June in North Africa to try and counterattack Pyrrhus before Pyrrhus can cement his foothold in Cyrenaica. That probably isn't going to do his forces any favors, though.

As for place names, Marmarica is the name for the border area between Cyrenaica and Egypt, with the Marmarican Desert effectively being the Libyan Desert. Appolonia is on the site of modern-day Soussa in Libya, while Cyrene is near present-day Shahat in the Jebel Akhdar Uplands of Libya. Antipyrgos is known today as Tobruk, while Massilia is on the site of Modern-Day Marseille in France, which is why the traders were selling Italo-Celtic Helmets to the Cyrenaicans. Nubia is in Southern Egypt and Northern Sudan, while Ptolemais is on the site of the modern-day village of Tolmeita on the Libyan Coast. Finally, Lake Moeris is a now-defunct lake in the Fayum Oasis that currently contains the seasonal Lake Qarun.

At any rate, the next chapter will be the Battle of Antipyrgos between Pyrrhus and Magas. Then we'll have a brief interlude showing Admiral Prophyrios' attack on Ptolemais before returning to Pyrrhus' POV.

Stay tuned. . .