My Campaign of Two-Eighty began with me sending the Fleet to hit back at Carthage and attempt to close off the Sea Lanes from Carthage to Sicily. I'd gotten reports over the winter that a large number of Mercenaries had been raised by Carthage and shipped into port at Lilybaeum, from which Malik Gisgo's Army had been reinforced. Our first order of business had to be closing off that Sea Access, because if we didn't, then Carthage would be able to purchase more and more mercenaries and ship them to Sicily as reinforcements. As well, I had ambitious plans for this campaign, taking the Carthaginian third of the Island, and that would require that Lilybaeum and Panormos not be able to be resupplied by sea.
I sent the orders in late February and by early March, the Fleet under Admiral Porphyrios sailed to the Island of Hiera to pose a threat to the naval base there, that the Carthaginian Fleet would be forced to sally out of its fleet base and give open battle. They did so on March Fourth and in the Battle off Hiera, attempted to use Fire Ships once again, the tactic having worked for them well previously.
This time, however, Admiral Porphyrios was ready for such a tactic and both ordered his ships to a looser formation and focused fire from his Dromons on the Fire Ships, sinking them all, several even being wrecked while in the midst of the Carthaginian Fleet. That created a hazard to navigation and broke up the Carthaginian Fleet Cohesion, which allowed our Quadriremes to close and board many ships, even as the Dromons kept hammering the Carthaginian Fleet with their ballistae.
The heavier Fleet Elements of the Carthaginian Fleet, their Quinquiremes and Single Hexareme, were the last fleet elements standing by the time sunset neared on March Fourth, largely thanks to having Ballistae of their own to fire back with, though not as many as our Dromons. The other Carthaginian fleet elements had either been sunk or fled back south toward the African Coast. One of the Quinquiremes and the Hexareme were both boarded after several of our Quadriremes closed with each, while the remainder were whittled down by our Dromons until only two remained that managed to break out of the battle and withdraw under cover of dusk.
By the end of the Sixth of March, Admiral Porphyrios sent a messenger bird back letting me know that he had landed Marines on the Islands of Hiera, Aegusa, and Phorbantia, capturing them after his victory, along with two of Carthage's Prized heavy ships and Admiral Himilco the Shavepate, son of the Shophet Mago of Lilybaeum who represented Carthage's Premier Colony in the Carthaginian Assembly and whose son, also named Himilco, was currently commanding the remnants of the Garrison of Lilybaeum. Now, Admiral Porphyrios was in a position to interdict any relief force, supply convoy, or reinforcements coming to Sicily from Carthage. That piece of good news was my cue to begin my campaign.
On the evening of the Sixth, I gathered the Army and the officers and made public sacrifices, to Ares and Athena for victories in the months ahead, to Poseidon as thanks for the Victory of the Fleet, and to Zeus Panhellenios for continued unity among my Italiote and Siciliote League allies. On the Seventh day of the first week of March, Two-Eighty, my army marched out from Gela west towards Akragas, hoping to bring Malik Gisgo to battle.
It was on the ninth when the scouts encountered the first brush with Malik Gisgo's Numidian Outriders east of the City of Phintias. A brief skirmish ensued with my Kataphractoi moving out to charge the enemy as soon as they were engaged with my Thorakitai, but the Numidians wanted no part of a Kataphractoi charge and withdrew north, leaving relatively few casualties on the field from either side. The big win for me on the ninth was Phintias, which threw open its gates to my army as a liberator. After what was left of the Carthaginian Garrison was delivered to my army in Chains, the City Fathers of Phintias threw a feast for my officers and myself.
Unfortunately, we could not stay, though one of the City Fathers, a man named Archedamos whose wealth came from various agricultural goods such as Cheese, Olive Oil, and Grain wanted desperately to work out a trade deal. He said so numerous times as he kept bringing it up over the course of the feast. I was able to extricate myself thanks to the needs of the War, but I had little doubt that he would ask again should my army pass through on the way back from campaign.
On the tenth, we headed north, skirmishing with patrols of both Mounted Gauls and Numidian Light Cavalry as we attempted to jockey for position against Malik Gisgo and his army. The Gauls were more eager to get stuck into fighting than the Numidians, who would often exchange a few thrown javelins with my scouts before retreating after the Kataphractoi moved in. By contrast, the Gauls gladly exchanged charges with the Kataphractoi, much to their detriment, though they would withdraw after taking a beating each time. Thanks to their tenacity and heavier blades, however, they actually managed to take a few of my Kataphractoi to the grave with them.
However, after three days of this skirmishing and maneuvering, I decided that enough was enough. We headed for Mount Kakyron, where the fortified city of Kakyron held a commanding view of the countryside to the east of Akragas. If Gisgo would not come to battle unless on his terms, we would force him to fight us or else lose the largest defensible outpost east of Akragas. After all, to take Akragas from the East, you would have to take Kakyron first or else suffer a potential assault to your flank while besieging the city. Everyone knew that, and I was counting on Gisgo knowing that too so I could bait him into fighting me.
It worked like a charm, as we arrived at the gentle slopes of Mount Kakyron on the fourteenth, we would camp in the shadow of the mountain. On the fifteenth, Malik Gisgo would arrive from the West and array his forces for battle. As I marched my army out of the camp to array them against him, I looked out and saw that Carthage really had pulled from all over its Empire, Clients, and Local Allies for troops.
"Look at them, Brother. Balearic Slingers, Numidian and Gallic Cavalry, Iberian Swordsmen, Massilian Hoplites, Punic Phalangites, Libyan Spearmen, Sicel and Sardinian Skirmishers, and look there! Those archers with the odd-looking Turban and Veil Combination, I think those are Garamantians from the oases South of Tripolitania!" I pointed out to Archagathus.
My brother-in-law had demanded to lead a contingent of Syracusan Thorkitai in the campaign and, despite my misgivings about letting him fight, I assented to keep him happy. He was an adult, after all, and not only family but a vital strategic ally in helping to keep the rest of the Siceliote and Italiote Leagues marching to the drumbeat I needed them to march to. He clearly didn't understand the implications of what I was pointing out, however, as he squinted to take it all in before turning to me.
"And? You wouldn't point that out unless there was some strategic gain to be made here." He questioned.
"I would put good Drachmae on Carthage having spent not only money but political favors to get that many mercenary troops from so many varied and far-flung lands. The Garamantes raid Carthaginian Caravans going from Carthaginian territories like Sabratha to the various tribes of the Libyan Deserts. If Carthage has turned to them for mercenaries, they must have used some sort of political favor." I informed.
"Which means this army represents a staggering amount of monetary and political investment that Carthage can't afford to lose without consequences." Nodded Archagathus, understanding.
My brother-in-law may not have been a hardened and veteran military commander, but he understood economics and politics as well as anyone. He was already weighing the potential in his mind that the loss of such an investment would create, I could see it in his eyes. It was possible to create political instability in Carthage just by beating this army badly enough. If we managed to take the rest of Sicily on top of that? The very act could cause a massive revolt.
At the very least, if we did all of that, Gisgo wouldn't be Malik for long afterward, and it was very possible the Shophets would refuse to pay what the Mercenaries were promised since it had to be a good amount for this kind of turnout, which would lead to a Mercenary War that would keep Carthage busy for a while. The Garamantians might start raiding again as well, which would only further neuter Carthage. With a nod, he moved to take his position among his Thorakitai as I pondered what I might do to increase the enemy's post-war weakness.
Not five minutes later, however, the horns sounded and the battle began. I was forced to put aside any thoughts of what might be upon a victory and focus on the task at hand. The fighting started with, instead of the cavalry like at the Trigona, a barrage of missiles. Javelins from Sardinians and Sicels mixed with lead bullets from Balearic Slings and arrows from Garamantian Bows. I ordered my men to form a wall of shields and spears, in the hopes that the defense would help. It did, and though hundreds of my men went down killed or wounded in the initial, massive, barrage, it wasn't enough to break their unit cohesion.
That was good because as soon as the sun stopped being blotted out by missiles, the enemy cavalry did indeed charge. The Gauls attempted to tie up my Kataphractoi while the Numidians charged in to assail the Thorakitai between the squares of Phalangites. Archagathus' Syracusans faced a hellacious combination of Numidian Horseback Javelinry followed by a charge with short spears but held firm. In the meantime, I led my reserve formation of Kataphractoi to the rescue.
I'd kept the most veteran, three-hundred, Kataphractoi back with me in the reserves to form a mounted troubleshooting unit. The plan was for us to ride toward any embattled section of the line to hit the enemy there and hopefully turn the tide of the fighting. We did that now, riding to the aid of Archagathus and his Syracusans. As we charged the Numidians from their flank, I couched my Cavalry Xystos under my arm, ready to get to grips with the enemy.
One of the Numidians, a noble judging from the Leopard Skin cloak, Linothorax, and feathered, gold-chased, Chalcidian Helmet, turned and spotted us moments before we collided, tossing a Javelin at me even as he sounded the retreat. His Javelin was deflected off my shield and he only got a single blast off on his horn before the steel head of my Xystos pierced the Linothorax like parchment, punching deep into his body and knocking him off his mount, dead.
He took my Xystos with him as he fell and I drew my falcata, cutting out at another Numidian, clearly a bodyguard that had just turned his mount around and was hoping to avenge his master. I lopped off his sword arm at the elbow, even as I deflected a second Bodyguard's spear thrust, trapping the haft between my scaled linothorax and shield and snapping the spear in half even as I lopped the Bodyguard's head off with a riposte. A third Bodyguard smashed me with the rim of his shield, knocking into my helmet and splitting my cheek open even under the steel from sheer force. I returned the favor, my own shield bash crushing his windpipe as he tried to line up a cut with his blade.
Another Javelin came in at me and rebounded off my shield even as I parried a thrusting short spear with my falcata, slicing through the wooden haft and cutting out with my blade at the retreating arm, slicing off several of the Fourth Bodyguard's fingers in the process and turning his sword arm into a useless hunk of meat. He fell back and I looked to the side in time to turn a slice from a blade to my upper arm that would have cut it off into a graze that barely cut a thin line beneath the Pteruges protecting my upper arm. With a hiss of sucked-in breath, I smashed my shield into the face of the offending Numidian Bodyguard, staving in the front of his face with the steel rim of my shield.
The other Numidians were withdrawing in disarray, having left a large number of their brothers-in-arms dead on the field. As my roving Kataphractoi unit withdrew back to the reserves, I noticed that my other Kataphractoi had driven the Gauls back with heavy losses. Unfortunately, my men were insistent on having the cut to my upper arm and cheek looked at before I was allowed to take my Kataphractoi unit back out into the field.
I spent the next hour commanding from the reserves as my wounds were washed out with heated grappa and stitched up with a needle and cow gut thread. Unfortunately, the Medic doing the job was the typical grade you would see accompanying an army, as I refused to undergo special treatment apart from my men, the Pyrrhus in me insisted on sharing at least some of the hardships of the men. That meant that while he was competent, he wasn't the best quality medic out there, and while the cut to my cheek was superficial and quickly dealt with, he took his sweet time sewing up my arm.
"Damn it man, are you stitching me up or sewing a blanket! There's a battle on!" I hissed at the one-hour mark.
"Just a bit more, Majesty. There, that should do it. We must change the bandage twice every day to avoid the rot setting in, but you were lucky, the cut hit nothing vital." Nodded the Medic.
As he said this, an officer I recognized as Aristedes of Rhegion, a Lochagos who commanded one hundred of Rhegion's men and was a distant nephew to the Tyrant of Rhegion, Anaxilos the Third, approached. He saluted and began to report.
"The right wing has come under fierce attack by the Masillian and Libyan Contingents of the Carthaginian Army. My Uncle is requesting men from the reserves to hold the line." Reported Aristides.
"All right, you grab five thousand men and head back to your uncle to bolster the right wing. He needs to hold his position, if we can break through on the left we stand a good chance of breaking Gisgo's army at the knees here today, but only if he holds. Go now!" I intoned.
"Five thousand? Is that wise? That's half the remaining reserves." Frowned Kleon of Pydna, who had been acting as my aide-de-camp so far in this campaign.
"If we can break through on the left, it won't matter. Speaking of which, take the other half of the reserves and reinforce the left. Those Iberian swordsmen and Punic Phalangites have been holding steady so far, but I want to counterattack them. If we can break them, we'll have this battle won!" I ordered.
"Of course, Majesty." Nodded Kleon, saluting and heading to do just that.
With a frown, I looked down at the Medic, tying on the bandage, and sighed. I was going to have to sit the rest of the battle out, wasn't I? The cut to my cheek wasn't too bad, but from the way the Medic had stalled on sewing up my arm, I could lose it if I tore open my stitches and infection set in, couldn't I? I resolved to ask him and his answering shrug was all the confirmation I needed.
"Don't beat about the bush, man, just tell me the truth. I promise I won't do anything untoward at bad news." I insisted, wanting to be sure.
"It is possible, Majesty. Should you tear open your wound, well, the campaign is not a place free of disease even for a King. Should rot set in, or some grime get into the reopened wound, you may lose the arm. Best you command from the reserves instead of risking it." Confirmed the Medic.
"Very well. I suppose I don't have to be personally present for every counterattack." I admitted.
As the battle went on, things went back and forth for a while. My counterattack on the left stalled thanks to returning Gallic Cavalry charging back at the lines and needing to be driven off again by the Katapractoi, while my Kataphractoi routed them back through the group of Sardinian Axe Infantry that had been screening their attack, scattering them and forcing the remnants of the Sicel Contingent to re-equip with spears and shields and attack under the cover of Garamantian Arrows and Balearic Sling Bullets to rebuff the charge my Kataphractoi sent at the camp.
By sunset, both sides found ourselves withdrawing back to our respective camps, neither side breaking the other. We'd taken four thousand men killed or wounded at the end of the first day of fighting, though Carthage had taken twice that many casualties. As we both withdrew to our camps for the night, I knew the next day of fighting would be the decisive one. It would be tough, but if we broke Carthage Tomorrow, we'd send them all the way back to Panormos and Lilybaeum and they wouldn't have the strength to actually win this war.
The next day of fighting began with another missile bombardment, though this time it was far less intense. The Numidians had returned to the Carthaginian Camp during the night and they charged once again, though unlike last time, we were ready for them with a shower of our own missiles as my Peltasts hammered them with thrown javelins. The exchange of fire was brief, but by the time the Numidians hit home with their spears, this time under the command of a different, younger, noble, the cohesion of their charge had been broken up by the Peltasts. I spotted my brother-in-law manage to skewer the Numidian Noble's horse out from under him before the rest of his men surged forward to defend him from the tide of Numidian Horsemen.
The Numidians retreated shortly afterward, carrying the body of the now-dead noble with them. On the right, The Italiote Contingent led by Anaxilos the Third of Rhegion once more fought off a massive assault from the Masillian and Libyan Contingents of the Enemy Army, but this time, I had my Kataphractoi charge into the Libyan Flank. The Libyans were armed and drilled as Thorakitai and were as disciplined as any Masilian Hoplite. Unfortunately, when faced with the only true heavy cavalry in the world at this time, not even they could stand forever.
Three hours after the battle began on the second day of the Battle of Kakyron, the dam finally burst. The Libyan Heavy Spearmen broke after weathering repeated charges from my Kataphractoi. That in turn rolled up the Masilian Phalanx, now bereft of their support from the more flexible Libyan formations, and put them to flight. Soon enough, the entire Carthaginian Army was fleeing from the field.
At this point, I didn't care about tearing open my wound, we had to cut down as many as we could. I hopped on my steed, took my three-hundred elite Kataphractoi, and joined the others in tearing into the rear and flanks of the routing Carthaginian Army. It was a massacre, especially as the Numidians seemed to not be around to stop us from pursuing. We were finally halted in the slaughter by the remnants of the Gallic Heavy Cavalry that charged into our flank as we were running down some fleeing Sardinian Axemen.
As the Gauls charged in, I met one of them, a red-haired Warrior with a painted face, with my Falcata, my Xystos long having been discarded in the body of a fleeing Punic Phalangite. My blade carved through his wooden shield and sliced open the arm underneath even as his blade whanged into my steel linothorax. The armor held, but I felt my ribs creak from the blow. My riposte took his head off even as I blocked a second sword stroke from another Gaul, this one a mustached blond Warrior on my shield and hacked off his swordarm with my counter. By now, though, the Sardinians had managed to get away and the Gauls stayed only long enough to ensure that.
They disengaged and we withdrew back to the battlefield, entering the Carthaginian Camp near sunset, where I found out exactly why the Numidians hadn't stopped us from pursuing the routing enemy. As I sat in Malik Gisgo's tent, the medic binding up my ribs from the Gallic sword stroke and worrying over my stitched-up arm, I read the various correspondence and reports of his army and realized exactly what had happened.
Those two nobles I and my brother-in-law had killed hadn't been just any Numidian Nobles, but King Gulussa and his heir, Prince Naravas. Now, the Eastern Numidians were effectively leaderless, which means that the Western Numidians under the newly crowned sixteen-year-old King Zelalsen could sweep in and subsume the Eastern Numidians and there would be nothing they could do about it with both King and Prince dead and the bulk of their army stuck on Sicily.
This was bigger than the sixteen-thousand Carthaginian dead and wounded from two days of fighting, though that was still good. Honestly, with us only losing eight thousand total casualties between dead and wounded, I'd call it a good day just from that. This on top of everything else was huge, though. I'd known we had the potential to shatter Carthage at the knees with this battle, but I never imagined just how badly we would hit them.
We moved into the city of Kakyron on the Seventeenth of March, two-eighty, once again being greeted as liberators despite the utter carnage the inhabitants had been able to watch from behind their walls just yesterday. By the time we left on the nineteenth, things were proceeding rapidly apace. By the twenty-first, we'd reached Akragas only to find it had been abandoned by Malik Gisgo. The reason why was waiting for us outside the gates. A Numidian horseman, clearly a veteran from the way he carried himself, rode out of the Gates of Akragas to parlay. I took my bodyguards with me to meet him.
"You are Pyrrhus, King of the Greeks?" Questioned the Numidian.
"I am Pyrrhus, King of the Greeks. Some of them, at any rate. Who might I be addressing?" I confirmed.
"I am called Adherbal and I am the Chief of a small tribe, one of many that make up the Massylii Confederation. You would know us as the Eastern Numidians. I am also the Chief of a tribe close to the border with the Masaesyli, who you would know as the Western Numidians." Informed the Numidian, Adherbal.
"I see. Am I to assume that you and your fellow Massylii have taken over Akragas from Malik Gisgo?" I queried.
"We have." Nodded Adherbal.
"And what terms would you like to surrender the City?" I asked.
"We fear that the Masaesyli will use the deaths of our King and his Heir and our presence on this Island against us. That they will take the opportunity to invade and may even push all the way to Cirta, where the Kings of our Confederation call home and where the treasury is. Your ships have bested those of Carthage and we would ask only that we be allowed to return home to prepare for the coming storm that must surely follow. Do this, and we shall surrender the City." Explained Adherbal.
"I thought it might be something like that. Very well, I accept your terms for the surrender of Akragas. I shall have ships to carry you back to Numidian Lands in a few day's time. Until then, you will camp within sight of my forces to ensure that all is proceeding as agreed." I agreed.
"Understood. We will await your ships and then leave this island, and war, behind." Concurred Adherbal.
We entered Akragas once again to a liberator's welcome as the Numidians exited the city to make camp outside. In total, we spent most of the rest of March in Akragas, consolidating and getting the fleets of Syracuse, Rhegion, Zanclo, Taras, and Locri to gather at Akragas with transport ships so they could ferry the remaining Numidians back to North Africa. They would drop the Numidians off at Saldae, the only Non-Carthaginian Port on the coast of Eastern Numidia.
In the meantime, we marched west, scattering a small Carthaginian Rear Guard force at Hearclea, taking the city on the second of April before moving north along the Hipsa River to take Solutninos. The Garrison of Soluntinos wasn't expecting a fight and, after a week of battering at the City from land and sea with Ballistae, they surrendered. Ietas in the interior willingly threw open their gates to us, the Siculians there hoping to spare the City a sack. By the Sixteenth of April, two-eighty, we settled into siege lines around Panormos, the Fleet blockading the City to prevent relief, resupply, or reinforcements by sea.
There were some twenty thousand Carthaginian Troops trapped in Panormos, fully half the remaining Carthaginian Forces on the Island. Unfortunately, the formidable walls, stockpiled food, and water cisterns kept them resisting for months. Even with the blockade and land-based bombardment, it appeared as if Panormos was going to stand. As April turned to May, May turned to June, and June turned to July, the City still stood.
It was looking like I would have to whip out the trebuchet plans I'd been keeping in my back pocket to finally crack Panormos. I gathered my best siege engineers to my tent on July Fourteenth, two-eighty, and we got to work. As I looked out at the City of Panormos while my siege engineers finalized the plans, I vowed that this war would end one way or another this year.
I would see to it personally. . .
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AN: All right, longer chapter this time detailing the first part of the campaign of two-eighty. The Numidians have left the War and Gisgo has lost another major battle, all captured Greek territory, and even one of the three major Carthaginian Colonies on the Island in Soluntinos. Now Panormos is under siege and if it falls, half the remaining Carthaginian troops on Sicily fall with it.
Unfortunately for Pyrrhus, Panormos is a tough nut to crack. IRL Pyrrhus of Epirus couldn't crack it, and the Romans were only able to take the city because they starved it out after a long siege. Pyrrhus wants to end things this year, so he's broken out the Trebuchet Plans he didn't get a chance to use against Rome's walls. We'll see if it works out for him, but if it does, you can expect a repeat performance against Lilybaeum to occur.
At any rate, the next chapter will be the next part of the campaign of two-eighty.
Stay tuned. . .