The Living History Engineer's The Rhine River Patrol

By Marcus Minucius Audens
Curator Differum Emeritus

The dawn slowly became more prominent in the distant sky as Apollo's Chariot approached the rim of the world.  The smell of melting pitch began to drift upon the air, it's heavy odor heady and strong but somehow pleasing to one long accustomed to such, and the saw-pits, by the launching ramps, added to this aroma, the rich smell of new-sawn lumber.  These odors in the predawn hours raised many memories in the mind of this man as he looked over the shipyard laid out in front of him, from his position on a small hill just inland of the Lower Rhinus Ship-Building yard.  The ship-storage sheds lay together just across the river, still half-full from the winter storage, and now silent, prior to the mustering of their crews.  Only two sentries moved along the narrow river-frontage piers. 

The piles of lumber which had not so long ago been the only indication of intention, were now reduced to a mere few planks and in their place were three fine new liburnians, almost complete.  Soon, once again, the caulker’s hammers would begin their unceasing chatter, and the shipyard would once again become alive.  But for now, only a few slaves stirred, feeding the fires, under the pitch pots, lighting the shadows along the waters edge with their flickering , dancing flame-light.  The river itself flowed smoothly along, without a ripple, a quiet entity now, undisturbed and moving toward it's ultimate destination to the deep sea at the end of it's long journey.  Marcus made a sign of respect to the Rhinus God.  He knew better than most, of the rage and damage of which the river God was capable when prevented or interfered with, by the actions of men.  He knew too, the destruction that could be wielded by the minions of the God Rhinus in time of flood or of the ice break-up each year when the Rhinus God rampaged in his bed and brought destruction and suffering to those who scoffed at the power of this strange deity whose faces were many from peace to disaster when finally disturbed from his winter's sleep.  The Rhinus was a valuable ever-flowing road, whose service to carry upon it's bosom trade and patrol was as necessary to Rome as were it's much vaunted land roads, for the ever-hungry legions and growing cities of Germania .  It was prudent, indeed, to show a proper respect to such a deity. as this, particularly since his well-being as well as military career depended in large part upon his affinity for this fluvia upon which he now gazed.

It was a good time to be alive, thought Marcus, as he stood feet wide apart as though braced against a quartering sea, even though the land was solid beneath him.  Marcus Fulminatus Vindex, the newly appointed "Navarch" of the just as new patrol squadron of the Classis Gernanica stood on land as he braced himself at sea, and his rolling gait, as he traversed the yard told anyone curious enough to be interested that he was a sailor who had spent much of his life at sea.  Although officially designated as a Patrol Squadron, and assigned to patrol duties on the Lower Rhinus Fluvius, it was known only to the Classis Praefect, himself and the Senior Centurion assigned to the Squadron, that this unit under his command would have the task of clearing the Rhinus Delta of a particularly disturbing pirate band operating against Roman and Roman-chartered Merchant ships supplying the Western Roman Legions.

His previous service as Triarchus of the of the "Vesta," a trireme out of Classis Misenensis (Misenum), had been blessed with the capture of another pirate off the coast of Sicilia .  This fool has tried to take a ship contracted to the Emperor Trajan, and when caught, he and his crew, some 30-40 in number, had been cruciied, and most of the cargo from Trajan's chartered ship had been recovered.  The capture and subsequent rescue of the Emperor's goods had caught the attention of the Emperor, and had resulted in a nice promotion and a new command on the frontier.

All this suited the sailor just fine, as the gilt and pomp of Rome disturbed him in some mysterious way, and he longed once more for the lonely stretches of coast-line, a dawn patrol, and finally the problem of pitting his seamanship against that of the elusive thieves of the sea.  Whatever may be said about their crimes and their greed, it had to be recognized that they were illusive, well versed in the tactics that fitted their particular efforts, and seemed to be very well informed into the bargain.

As the day became brighter, Marcus wandered closer to the three liburnians lying on their individual launching forms.  Soon all three would be ready to taste the water of the Rhinus for the first time, and then all that would remain was the rigging of the vessels from the vast coils of cordage and supplies of the loft over the cordage walk where the sails were cut and stored.  Each vessel had mounted on her bow, a small scorpion-catapult capable of firing both bolts, stone balls and flame arrows, an addition insisted on by himself.  His friends in the Legion stationed at Misenum, and the nearby Praetorian Camp had suggested a unique arrangement of ready ammunition built into the ship's upper works to assist in maximizing the  firing rate of this weapon.  It had worked well on "Vesta" and he had duplicated the plans on these three vessels, as well as the "Pinnata," his command ship, a trireme of clean lines, which was now tied to the rigging pier, shortly to be completed and within a tenth day moved to an anchorage to make room for the first of the liburnians off the launching cradles. He would have to give some thought to their naming, and to the special prayers, offerings and ceremony of the naming.  He did not wish to leave this, just to the Pontiffs alone, who dealt in such things but wished to at least be visible in this very important ceremony.  It bodes well, he thought, to be in the eye of the Gods, when putting oneself in harm's way, particularly on an unforgiving sea, and against a wily and ruthless opponent.

As the workers began to fill the yard, and the day was well started, Marcus turned his steps toward his office on the hill.  Part of the Principia for the fleet Praefect here was allotted to senior Naval Officers, and his small office was next to the Praefect's Cornicularius, who acted as both the Praefect's Adjutant, and where the records of the shipyard and local fleet were kept on file.  In a few minutes, Marcus would meet with the Cornicularius and the five Centurions who actually ran the shipyard, and the Legion Cohort stationed here to form the Legion Marines, who would man the squadron.  After the Morning Report, Marcus would meet briefly with his four triarchi, and then with the Praefect to discuss the latest reports from the Classis Praefectus and from Rome pertaining to his squadron's assignment.

He picked up his pace as he climbed the hill to the Principia thinking again, that it was a good time to be alive.

The Rhine River Patrol-Part 2

"A Meeting"

The Principia (Headquarters) for the Shipyard sat on the bald crown of a small hill overlooking the shipyards immediately, and also providing a long distance view of a long stretch of the Fluvius Rhinus as It emerged from the heavy leaf-denuded forest upriver, and finally disappeared into the reed-choked muddy delta area far downriver. Beyond the delta a sliver of blue water could be seen in the early spring dawn against a dark bowl of the sky to seaward. This bright metallic blue color of a precious stone, in contrast to the muddy brown of the Rhinus, served to reassure Marcus Vindex of the presence of the Mare Germanicus far downriver. Somehow such assurance was comforting to him. He was used to the open ocean, and still felt crowded by the banks of the Rhinus even as broad as the river was.

The hill had been shorn of most of its trees some time ago, but two remained in front of the Principia. Their gnarled trunks and dark green leaves seemed to soften the brightly painted outlines of the Principia building, and shaded the entrance from the heat of Sol at midday .

Marcus reached the top of the timber and stone steps and walked out onto the wide smooth stone area that lie in front of the Principia.

The Fleet Praefectus was a popular Senator and used to the very best that could be provided. This included the unusual extensive stonework that surrounded the Principia Building and his private quarters as well. It was said that his personal treasure was extensive, so he could probably afford such touches of elegance.

Marcus walked briskly across the flagstones, not wishing to be late for the Morning Report, but also unwilling to appear to be an anxious hangers-on to the Fleet Praefectus' skirts. He approached the steps leading to the entrance, where two legionaries stood guard with Pilum, gladius and scutum. Above them in twin oval niches set into the outer wall of the Principia, directly above the guard stations were the two ornate half-life-size statues of Mars, the Holy God of War / Agriculture and Neptune, the Holy God of Water, both of which also stood guard on the honors gathered within the inside Principia chapel.

The guards snapped to attention as he entered the gateway, flanked as he did so, by the two heavy wooden doors with their detailed carving, also indicative of the Holy Neptune and Mars. Marcus was of the opinion that Neptune 's place in the outer niche should probably be substituted by the Rhinus River Spirit, since the influence of Neptune on the Rhinus Fleet seemed to him to be far less that that of the Spirit of the Fluvius Rhinus. That particular spirit seemed to be most capricious and destructive, with it's rumbling and quaking during the long winter, and it's wild and far-reaching floods of the spring season. Even now the level of the river was increasing, and some of the "fabri" (engineering specialists) were shoring up and strengthen the river docks and piers, that the increased river current threatened. Add to those concerns the submerged sand bars that mysteriously appeared and disappeared each year, the eddies which were a constant problem for the oared warships in the turns of the river, never in the same place twice, and finally the heavy waterlogged timber debris, that floated just below the surface, or which was embedded in the bottom of the river waiting for the opportunity to punch a hole in a careless or unsuspecting vessel.

The Fleet's "Gubernators" (river pilots) would soon be out on the river (his own assigned pilots included) updating the above changing conditions and trying to at least keep abreast of the Rhinus Spirits and their seasonal changes. The ice damage each year along the river done by an obviously angry river god was extensive. He hurled his "glacies" (ice) weapons against any man-made improvements along the river, and these attacks were extremely destructive. As if that were not enough, this debris, propelled by a wildly strong river current made this broken material, in it's turn, a further weapon to be used against installations farther downstream. However, his view of the Religio was considered to be somewhat strange among his friends and superiors, and so he kept his opinions of such behind his teeth.

Marcus strode purposefully through the outer unroofed courtyard. The covered verandah occupying the whole four sides of the square except for the Main entrance, and the entrance into the "basilica" (cross-hall) was still dark. Marcus could just pick out the various papyri notices posted there for the fleet and the shipyard. Ahead of him was the group of junior centurions gathered to get the day's orders and the password. Standing beside the Praefectus was the Cornicularius (Adjutant) with a wax tablet and stylus prepared to write down any last minute directions or questions from or directed to the Fleet Praefectus.

Behind the Praefectus stood a clerk with several papyri rolls under one arm in case something needed to be further reviewed. Next to this clerk was a small four-legged table with a three-legged stool. For the most part it was the Cornicularius, his clerks, and the staff Centurions that ran the shipyard. The Praefectus was simply there to provide judgments in matters of discipline, hear any special requests and give out general overall direction as might be needed. As Marcus approached, the Praefectus looked up and nodded a greeting, and the centurions turned toward him to see who was coming in.

The Cornicularius looked up briefly and then twisting his mouth in distaste; he concentrated again upon his notes, making a point of further ignoring the naval officer's approach. He and Marcus had experienced several heated discussions regarding the allotment of shipwrights and lumber for the vessels under the Navarch's responsibility.

The Cornicularius, one Quintus Aurelius Probus, a Cohort Centurion of some experience, and who apparently thought of himself as an excellent candidate for praefectus or better still a "Tribunus Angusticlavi" (equestrian rank with a narrow purple stripe on his tunic). Marcus sighed and supposed that he would have to get to know the gentleman a bit better, and see if he could not smooth over this rough spot. It would not do at all to have the Adjutant at cross-purposes with the completion of the patrol squadron.

The piracy problem that he was to address grew worse with each passing month, and, of course, the secrecy shrouding the special task of this squadron did not include the Cornicularius. It would be up to Marcus to get Quintus Probus on his side.

Just to one side of the central group, stood a large man in full parade dress of a Cohort Rank Centurion.

His "phalerae" were highly polished, and he wore on his dark hair the Corona Civica.  Two torques, one at each shoulder, gleamed dully in the subdued light, and he carried his helmet in the crook of his right arm, with a hefty peeled vine staff with what looked like five silver rings along it's length, in his right hand.

His armor was silvered, and shone with a sheen that indicated a lot of work had been expended on the effort to keep it so. Overall, his turnout was excellent, his uniform and equipment showing the field use of an experienced officer, but the care and work to keep it virtually faultless to Marcus' experienced eye.

The Naval Officer was impressed, and rather surprised when the Centurion, having gained his attention, crossed over to him, and in a low voice said, "Silvius Appius Verus, Centurion, Pilus Prior, Third Cohort, Legio II Adiutrix, reporting for duty Sir."

Now he had done it!!!!  The overseer, a great brute of a man lay groaning on the gravel, holding a broken arm, badly broken if the sharp point of the bone projecting through the skin of the lower arm accompanied by severe bleeding was any indication.  Two guards were looking his way, and along this gravel trail high on a stony ridge, there wasn't much of a place to run.  Deciding quickly he snatched at the large knife at the downed man's belt, and the stout staff lying beside him.  A quick swipe across the overseers throat with the knife took care of all of his debts to this brute, and he jumped off the path and onto the steep gravelly slope.  He immediately lost his balance and began to tumble heads over heels towards the rocky pit somewhere below. Shouts from behind him heralded that he had been seen and chase was likely to follow close behind.  In the tumbling his head hit something hard and he blacked out completely.

He heard voices nearby and lay completely still. He was on his stomach lying down slope.  He felt a heavy covering all over his body as though covered with dirt.  He was covered with dirt, and gravel, and rock. His head was wedged under a larger boulder or he would probably have had his brains knocked out of his head during his slide downhill.  He opened his eyes, but all he could see was the heavy dust raised by the landslide that he had started and the dirt and rock which now covered him.

"Where the hell did that scrawny bastard go?" said a nearby voice.

"Shut up and look, slug foot!!  You're here for a reason, and that ain't to exercise your wagging jaw!!! responded a harsh voice somewhat further away.  "And be careful,: added the harsh voice, "He got that dumb beggar’s knife!!!!"

"I'll shut your damned trap, you overbearing son of a---------," said the nearby first voice but much lower in volume.

'How long before this guy finds me' thought Gaius.  Can I jump up and get this guy, and die fighting or wait until I am found and then enjoy being crucified! Not an enviable choice.  He still had the knife in one hand under this cascade of dirt, but the staff was gone.  The man closest to him walked over, his footfalls heavy in Gaius' ear. The man knelt close by Gaius' head and muttered, "Well what's this, and Gaius could feel the guard's touch on the knife.

Not time to reason this out.  Could he make the stroke that would kill the guard?  Was his arm free? No time, Gaius gathered his strength and erupted out of the dirt and gravel blanket that covered him.  He made a wide slashing motion with the knife as he moved in the direction of his closest opponent.  He connected!!!  With a groan the guard sank to his knees holding his belly.  The knife stroke had opened a gaping wound, through which the guard's life was spurting away.

"What the hell is your problem Marcus?  Can't you keep your mind on what we're doing??!!  Find that damn slave!!!!  The voice was closer now, and Gaius could hear his approach.

Gaius grunted an answer hoping that it would pass for a disgruntled reply. At the same time he rammed his fist in the kneeling guard's mouth, and cut his throat.  The man slumped in death under his hand. The dust cloud was fast clearing, and Gaius cautiously looked around the boulder under which his head had been jammed.  His body ached all over, He could hear the yells from above on the trail demanding some kind of report. The second guard was coming his way, wiping his running eyes, and cursing to himself.  The man had lost his helmet in his wild run down slope, and Gaius picked up a large rock at his feet.  At the same time that the second guard saw his partner dead on the ground, Gaius hit the man in the back of his head as hard as he could with the rock.  The man fell stunned.  God what luck!!!!  How long could it last?  Gaius moved around the boulder and crouched out of sight from those above.  He looked downslope, and saw a line of low brush extending up the ridge. Probably some sort of a water spring or seep.  It was almost four ship-lengths away,  If he could get to that cover he would have a chance.  He had killed three times, and they would not stop their chase, but in the woods he certainly had a better chance than on the open mountainside.  Quickly deciding, he gathered his strength, and again lurched down-slope towards his brushy goal.  Shouts erupted above him on the trail and an archer took careful aim at the running fugitive.

----To be Continued----  

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