Chapter 49

I awoke silently in the middle of the night to the sounds of rummaging going on near my camp desk. My command tent was, effectively segregated by hanging curtains between my work area, quarters, and meeting area. Looking over at the tent flap that led out into my work area, where my camp desk and rack of scrolls were set up. I noticed a reddish pool on the packed earth floor and hushed whispering as shadows cast by torchlight flickered over toward my camp desk as whoever had decided to intrude rummaged around my correspondence for intel. Those shadows revealed a pair of men who definitely didn't belong here.

Moving slowly, deliberately keeping my breathing slow so as not to alert anyone, I reached for my Falcata, hanging off a peg near my camp bed. I had just closed my hand around the hilt when a third shadowy figure emerged from a separate section of my tent, wiping blood off his Illyrian-style Sica blade. The Assassin, for that was clearly what he was, stood an average height for an Illyrian, which he clearly was judging from his appearance. He looked for all the world like a random Illyrian, one you wouldn't be able to single out of a crowd. That was, perhaps, the point, however. Conspicuous Assassins were not assassins that tended to succeed, after all.

Of course, a random Illyrian would not have been able to enter the camp. Not apropos of nothing without being challenged by the guards. No, the Assassin wore the Tunic and Cloak of an Illyrian Soldier of Lissos, one of my Clients who contributed a number of Peltasts to this Campaign. That must have helped the Assassins Gain Entry into the camp. I would have to begin implementing a regular password and countersign system to prevent this sort of thing in the future if I survived.

Regardless, the Illyrian Assassin locked eyes with me and I knew he'd seen me. I had to move, drawing my Falcata from its scabbard and lashing out in a single movement. To his credit, the Assassin tried to counter, slashing at me with his sica, but it only wound up grazing my ribs in a flesh wound that bled but didn't penetrate much past the skin. My own strike, meanwhile, took the throat out of my Would-Be Assassin. He fell to the dirt choking on blood as I wrenched my Falcata out of his neck, wincing as the cut to my ribs sent a flare of pain up my left side.

I drew my off-hand into my side as the two other Assassins entered. Both were similarly forgettable Illyrians, both also wearing the tunics and cloaks marking them out as Soldiers from Lissos. I lashed out at one with my Falcata even as I sent a kick into the knee of the other, more pain flaring up my side as the movement aggravated my flesh wound. I couldn't worry about that now, unfortunately, as I had to fight for my life. The Guards on-shift around my command tent had obviously been slain and I would have to call for more. I did so, shouting out the alarm even as the First Assassin's kneecap popped out of its place with a snap from my kick and the Second Assassin parried my Falcata cut with his Sica.

"Alarm! To me my Guards!" I roared out as the First Assassin dropped to a knee.

The Second Assassin, however, was not keen to wait for the guards or to help out his fellow. His left hand reached into his cloak and pulled out a pouch that he threw at me. Mid-flight, the pouch's contents spilled out revealing a blinding powder of sulfur. I threw up a hand to shield my eyes but I was still temporarily blinded by the powder. I immediately moved, juking away on instinct as this would be the perfect time for the Assassin to attempt to gut me before fleeing just ahead of the guards. Good thing I had, because I wound up taking a second, superficial, Sica cut to the right shoulder as I spun away in my instinctual dodge.

Fortunately, the Guards arrived shortly afterward. I heard a short scuffle as they found the Assassins. When I finally managed to wash the powder out of my eyes thanks to a Guard passing me a waterskin, I saw that the Assassin whose knee I dislocated with my kick was unconscious, but the remaining Assassin had fled.

"They were attempting to slay me and also rummaging around in my correspondence, likely hoping to gain some tactical insight on movements elsewhere. Take this scum, away for questioning and send in a Surgeon to patch me up." I ordered, pointing to the Unconscious Assassin.

The next few hours were spent with one of the Camp Surgeons washing out my wounds with boiled grappa and sewing them up with a needle and cow gut thread. The Bandages that were put on were soaked in a mixture of garlic and honey to prevent infection that smelled awful but had some very solid scientific principles behind them. As dawn broke over Elutherae, I was tired, hurt, and irritable, but alive. I would also remain alive at the end of the day, as I was being advised not to open my sutures by taking the field personally for at least a week. The same could not be said for the Garrison of Elutherae.

After all, the siege tunnel was finally complete, and now we would be able to assault the Town and end this siege in our favor. . .

XXXX

Deukalion of Korkyra was all things considered, an odd man. The Chiliarch of one-thousand Thorakitai from Korkyra, Deukalion had been too young to serve during the Wars with Rome and Carthage but was eager to show his worth. That had not been what was odd about him, as many young men of the Nobility would seek to do likewise in his position. No, what was odd about Deukalion was that he chose to do so in the Army instead of with the Fleet, as most of the Noble Scions of Korkyra sought Naval Postings. Furthermore, he fought not as a Hoplite or Phalangite, but as a Thorakitai, one of their King's New Reformed Units.

Personally, Deukalion had seen the worth of Thorakitai and their more mobile and flexible formations and had been drawn to the formation during his training. He'd attempted to convince his elders of the benefits of such a formation, telling them that they could even be more easily used as marines than the standard Hoplites, Phalangites, and so on. It hadn't mattered, however, the Old Men from Oligarchic Families of the Island of Korkyra hadn't agreed with his assessment.

Go, they'd told him. Go and prove these wild speculations correct, and come back covered in glory in the service of our King. Then maybe we will take your proposals more seriously. That had been the response, clearly, the Elders hadn't been expecting him to actually do such a thing, but then, Deukalion had always been a touch mad. He'd sold the majority of his properties off to fund the raising, equipping, and training of a Chiliarchy of Thorakitai and entered the service of their Undefeated King. He had been committed to his course of action, now only having a modest estate to his name from what had formerly been the sprawling holdings of an Oligarchic Family.

It was all worth it, however, because now his Chiliarchy was poised to be the first to assault through the carefully constructed assault tunnel, bypassing the defenses of the Fortress of Elutherae entirely. His objective was clear, to be the tip of the spear plunging into the heart of the Garrison. If they could strike at them now, in the early dawn hours, when the Night Watch would be asleep on their feet and the Morning Watch just waking up, they could secure a beachhead to disgorge their troops into the heart of Elutherae. If that happened, the Town would fall within a day and it would be all thanks to Deukalion and his men. Their King would recognize that and surely reward Deukalion with honors and titles as well as properties to make up for those he'd sold to fund his contribution.

"How much longer?" Questioned Deukalion.

"Perhaps but a few more minutes. My Engineers are making the final cuts now." Responded the Wizened, Bearded, Form of Proteos of Pleuron, the leader of the Aitolian League Engineers working on the tunnel.

"What will we need to do?" Queried Deukalion.

"You have never assaulted a town by tunnel before, have you?" Asked Proteos.

"No. Who has? Tunneling has never been employed on such a large scale before." Scoffed Deukalion.

"Well, firstly, what will happen is that we will shave the ground up to within an inch of its life. Then, we will stand back and, using teams of menial slaves hauling on ropes, pull the supports out from the last section of the tunnel. If our calculations were correct, that should collapse the ground above that section of tunnel, allowing us to bring up the ladders." Explained Proteos.

"And then we assault?" Questioned Deukalion.

"And then you assault." Confirmed Proteos.

"How can you be certain your calculations were correct?" Queried Deukalion.

"My Engineers and I have gone over them several times. Short of a Prophecy from Lord Apollo Himself, this is the most certain I can be that we have it correct." Sighed Proteos.

"All right. I suppose we'll see. Where will this tunnel lead us?" Asked Deukalion.

"This should lead right next to the Fortified Barracks at the base of the Akropolis. You should be able to storm through and seize control of the Barracks to allow the rest of the force to assault the Akropolis and the Agora." Answered Proteos.

"And once we have the Akropolis, Barracks, and Agora, the rest of Elutherae will fall too. Very good. I think I know now everything I need to make this a successful assault." Smirked Deukalion.

Proteos didn't respond, simply turning back to finish supervising his Engineers. Shortly after he did so, the last of the digging had been finished and the ladders were brought up and placed on stand-by while the ropes were affixed to the supports holding up the section of the tunnel ahead. Slaves took up their positions at the ropes and soon, Proteos motioned everyone back up the tunnel some twenty or so feet from the section to be collapsed. The slaves got to work and five minutes later, a rumbling noise could be heard and the earth shook as if the Titans were attempting to escape their imprisonment in Tartarus.

For a few moments, the quakes were all that could be heard inside the tunnel, before suddenly being silenced. Then the ladders were rushed forth as Deukalion led his men back down the tunnel, revealing the early morning air as the first rays of dawn threw shadows over the hole in the ground the engineers had undermined. The Ladders went up and Deukalion unsheathed his Falcata, pointing at the open-air pit their tunneling efforts had made.

"This is it, Men! For Korkyra, For Epirus, For Pyrrhus King, and for Glory!" He shouted out.

Then his Chiliarchy surged forth and the assault had begun. . .

XXXX

Timocrates of Lampascus had stayed in Elutherae while his supposed comrade, the effete and gluttonous Amynomachus, had returned to Athens to bear the news that Epirus would continue the war. He had been put up in the Palace of Elutherae on the Akropolis, along with a good two thousand Athenian Troops. Most of the Troops in the Town were quartered either in the large fortified Barracks or closer to the walls of the town itself. Only the best were allowed lodging in the Palace.

Of course, the Palace wasn't really a Palace these days at any rate. Elutherae was an Athenian Vassal, and their Oligarchs had long ousted the Tyrants that used to rule the Town back when it had been an independent Polis. They now lived in Athens, allowing a Military Governor, appointed with the consent of the Athenian Boule, of course, to rule Elutherae in their stead. It still held the splendor of a Royal Residence, whilst also being fortified to Tartarus and Back.

Between the best troops being quartered here and the Palace's own fortifications, Timocrates was confident he was in an unassailable position. That was why he was so shocked when a figure detached itself from a shadowy corner and knelt down in front of him. An Illyrian of some description, possibly one of those nebulous agents that Amynomachus had alluded to before they had parted ways while the safe conduct for diplomats had still been in effect.

"We have failed, My Lord." Intoned the Illyrian.

That brought a sinking feeling to the pit of Timocrates' Stomach. He hadn't even known what Amynomachus had been plotting, just that he had done so. If whatever it had been had failed, then he needed to know what that erstwhile debauched oaf had done so he could prepare for the consequences of whatever this failure would be.

"Tell me everything." Commanded Timocrates.

The Illyrian did so, claiming that Amynomachus had paid him and his two brothers no small amount of Drachmae to do two things. First, steal whatever correspondence or other intelligence they could from the Enemy Camp so that Athens might be able to figure out the Enemy's broader movements and turn the tide of the war. Second, Assassinate Pyrrhus of Epirus.

They had attempted to do this by ambushing a trio of Illyrian Sentries that were part of the Epirote Forces and stealing their cloaks and tunics to pass themselves off as part of the Enemy Forces. They'd managed to successfully infiltrate the Enemy Camp and silence several of Pyrrhus' Bodyguards, giving them free reign over Pyrrhus' command tent until the next guard shift. Then Pyrrhus had woken up and their entire plan had been scuppered. The Epirote King had slain the Eldest Brother and incapacitated the Middle Brother before calling for the Guards. They'd wounded Pyrrhus twice in the scuffle, but the Youngest brother had to scramble to escape, ditching the cloak and tunic and making his way back into Elutherae via a circuitous route, climbing over the western walls.

"Amynomachus you utter imbecile! What have you done?" Scowled Timocrates.

"My Lord?" Interjected the last remaining Assassin.

"Does your Older Brother, the one who was incapacitated, know anything about who sent him?" Demanded Timocrates.

"He does, My Lord. Longaros won't break under torture, though. He's made of sterner stuff than that!" Insisted the Last Assassin.

"Unfortunately, that is the worst possible news you could have given me!" Fumed Timocrates.

Suddenly, there was a rumbling sound and a shake as if the very earth was quaking in fury in time with Timocrates' own anger at his erstwhile So-called Colleague's actions. He rushed out into the courtyard of the palace and mounted one of the square watchtowers to get a better vantage point. By the time he had done that, he was able to see that a large pit had opened up in the earth near the Barracks down below at the base of the Akropolis, and Epirote Troops were now pouring out of it, climbing ladders to make it to the mouth of the pit.

The first few enemies managed to slay the Watch at the door of the barracks with spear thrusts and hacking falcata cuts. Some, tossed their spears underhand like javelins, punching through the armor of the watchmen in the watchtower above the gate to the Barracks and drawing blades. Of course, some of them went down as well, an arrow punching through the neck of an enemy Swordsman, a slingstone cracking the face of an enemy spearmen wide open. It wouldn't be enough, there had to be at least a thousand of them. All this was within the first few moments of the assault as Timocrates watched on in horror.

"Call out the men! Raise the Alarm! The enemy has managed to bypass the walls by Tunneling!" Called out Timocrates.

The Horns were blown, sounding the alarm, but it wouldn't be enough. Already the enemy was seizing control of the main, Fortified, Barracks of Elutherae with their surprise tunnel assault and thousands more enemy troops were pouring out of the tunnel, widening the enemy's Zone of Control. Timocrates attempted to lead a sortie into the enemy, to throw them back into the pit using the two-thousand troops from the Palace. Unfortunately, it was not to be. The assault bounced, and Timocrates himself soon found himself facing off against an Aitolian League Commander in combat as his assault force tried to extricate itself from the enemy.

The Enemy struck out with his spear, forcing Timocrates to use his Hoplon Shield as best he could to avoid the older man's more deft and skilled thrusts. He only had his Xiphos in addition to his armor and Hoplon and so could not come close to the reach his opponent could. Timocrates desperately tried to avoid the spear thrusts and found an opening, trapping the spear against the flagstones of the road with his Hoplon, Timocrates tried to thrust his Xiphos into the Enemy's armpit.

It wasn't to be, unfortunately. Timocrates found himself picked up by a crushing force that cracked his ribs underneath his linothorax and sent him crashing down to the street in a heap. He'd lost his grip on his Xiphos from the force of the blow and looked around frantically for it. Unfortunately, he was forced to break off his attempt to retrieve his weapon by a spear thrust, forcing him to cover himself with his Hoplon, ribs screeching in pain.

A kick to his Hoplon bowled Timocrates over and sent him sprawling against the cobbled flat on his back. Looking up, he spotted his Opponent gazing down at him. Timocrates knew he had lost this day, and that his only hope was being taken captive as his rank allowed for a hefty ransom.

"You fought well, but you lack experience. You were so worried about my spear that you forgot I have a shield too. Know, however, that you were bested by Polyarchos, Strategos of the Aitolian League. In that, you can take some measure of pride." Intoned his Opponent, Polyarchos.

Then Polyarchos' shield smashed into the side of Timocrates' helm, knocking him out. He would be unconscious for the remainder of the fighting.

When Timocrates awoke, he would be a captive of the Enemy. . .

XXXX

All told, we managed to seize control of the so-called Impregnable Fortress of Elutherae after a few hours of fighting. Of the twenty-thousand Athenian and Allied Troops that had been present at the start of the siege, only around twelve thousand of those would be able to escape the assault, the walls they'd been so proud of for keeping enemies at bay had turned into a prison. Most left via the Southeast gates, cutting their way through the reduced pickets now that the assault was going on. Some left via Sally Ports.

Of the remaining eight thousand, six thousand surrendered or were captured even without a formal surrender, largely from the pure shock of our surprise assault. The remaining two thousand died, either killed in the fighting or dying of their wounds in the aftermath. Polyarchos also managed to capture Timocrates when he arrived with the second wave of assault forces. To his credit, Timocrates went down fighting, by all accounts a model Athenian Soldier.

That was however offset by the actions that our interrogation of the assassins had revealed. Amynomachus, with the support of a large faction in the Athenian Boule, had been the one to order my Assassination. Apparently, his backers in the Athenian Boule had given Amynomachus a large number of Drachmae to hire Assassins should I refuse Athens' 'generous' terms for peace. It hadn't worked out for them and they had lost Elutherae as well. It had only cost us some three-hundred-fifty killed or wounded, mostly during Timocrates Counterattack.

By the time we reached Athens, attaining the Surrenders of Eleusis, Phyle, Oenoe, Cholargus, and Achernae along the way, news had already come in of the Surrenders of Corinth and the Achaean League. We began to settle in for a siege of Athens itself on the fifth of November, two-seventy-nine when word arrived from Euboea and Crete. Battles had been fought there that had proven decisive, though I couldn't spare much attention to them. Not when I had to focus. After all, with Athens herself in front of me, I had the chance to end this war once and for all before winter.

The fate of the War, and Athens, would be decided here in the next few weeks. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, here's the next chapter. We get to see Pyrrhus fend off the assassins, though he was wounded twice doing so, and forced to allow his allies and subordinates to take the field in the assault in his stead. Fortunately, that seems to have worked out very well for him, and with the information of the Athenian Boule's Complicity in an assassination attempt, albeit one that it seems they cut Timocrates' Faction out of the loop for, there is an opportunity here to use it as a caucus belli of sorts to annex Athens itself.

Once again, petty politics has fucked a Greek City State in the ass. Whoever could have predicted that? Not that Pyrrhus had much in the way of intentions on keeping Athens independent in the post-war, to begin with, but there would have been a lot more leniency to his treatment of the Athenians before this.

At any rate, next we'll have a look at the decisive battles on Crete and Euboea via a pair of interludes, and then we'll be back with Pyrrhus for the finale.

Stay tuned. . .