Unjust Sacrifice by Slater J. Clifton

Author:Slater, J. Clifton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24 – Weighted Ends

Each warship on Ostia beach had a carpenter assigned to the vessel. And because the ships were new, the woodworkers were free for other projects.

“They look like ship frames sunk into the sand,” Hysopum commented when the group arrived at the first rowing station. “With only the skeleton of the hull remaining above ground.”

“And every station has a rowers’ walk down the center of the oarsmen’s benches and a platform for us,” Alerio added. “We’ll use the stations to drill the oarsmen and the Second Principale. Push the deck officer and push the oarsmen until they are a crew. Then drag them to the sand and put them to work bashing each other with shields.”

“How is this going to work?” an obviously overwhelmed Centurion asked.

“You start at the last warship, collect what oarsmen they have, and march them to a station,” Alerio explained. “We’ll add men until they have their three hundred.”

“You make it sound easy,” Hysopum suggested.

“It’s not,” Alerio admitted. “But we will get it done. The Republic cannot lose another Consul to the Empire.”

The five Junior Centurions filed into the rowing station. The last training officer pushed Ovanter into the structure and up to the rowers’ walk.

“We’ll need the ship’s musician,” Hysopum remarked as he peered up and down the one-hundred-and-ten-foot platform. “There is no way the Second Principale can yell loud enough to be heard.”

“Excellent idea,” Alerio said. “Let’s collect the music man when we get the rowing deck officer and the oarsmen.”

Ovanter tilted his head up and, despite his stooped posture, he glared at Alerio.

Some men fight authority even when the authoritative figure ignores them. While Centurion Sisera paid no attention to the angry junior officer, the same could not be said for his fellow Centurions. Two of the instructors punched Ovanter in the ribs. Which, in hindsight, was the reason he was bent over in the first place.

“That is one irritated man,” Alerio commented. “What are we going to do with him?”

“We are working on his attitude, Centurion Sisera,” Hysopum explained. “Hopefully, he will be ready to take charge of a training station.”

“Let me know if I have to request another instructor,” Alerio replied. “But I’m not sure how to approach the Senior Centurion.”

“Centurion Ovanter will be ready to teach,” Hysopum promised. “Or he will be in the hospital.”

“I can use that excuse,” Alerio announced. “Let’s go inspect the other rowing stations.”

***

Two days later, Centurion Ovanter stood at a training station watching. The drills in the rowing structure were all handled by the crew’s Second Principale. Another crew faced off against half their crew in a pushing battle. A new Marine Centurion oversaw that drill. The inactive Ovanter clenched and unclenched the fingers on his right hand as if gripping the hilt of a gladius. And to go with the vacant look in his eyes, he chewed on the inside of his lip. Above the training area, Centurion Sisera sat on the embankment trying to make a decision about the instructor.

“Sisera,

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