Fortune Reigns Read online

  “Weapons instructor. Private Vindictam is one of us,” announced the Lance Corporal. “We believe we can salvage and motivate him.”

  “Then it’s up to the squad to show him the way,” Alerio offered. “If I walk over there, my anger will get the better of me and he will die.”

  The nine infantrymen rushed Vindictam knocking him to the ground and beating him with fists and feet. Alerio watched until the coward couldn’t defend himself against the blows and kicks. Looking over at the men Vindictam had cut, he waited. When all three nodded, Alerio called a halt to the punishment.

  “Enough. Pick up your gear and Private Honey Cakes. Get back into ranks,” Alerio instructed. “We will be running shield and gladius maneuvers. No one falls back, especially Private Vindictam. You wanted him, so keep him up and moving with the squad.”

  At midday, Centurion Carnifex, the line officer, and the Corporal marched across the field towards the Century. Far behind, the Sergeant limped painfully after them.

  “Weapons instructor Sisera. Give me a report on the fitness of Sixth Century, Second Maniple,” ordered Carnifex. The Centurion looked over the dusty, sweaty and obviously exhausted squads. For a heartbeat, he paused when he noticed one Private wobbling in place and being held up by two Legionaries.

  “Legion weapons instructor Carnifex. Sixth Century, Second Maniple is trained and responsive,” Alerio announced. “Sir, they are Legionaries ready to take their place in the assault line.”

  The Sergeant finally arrived and Alerio could see bruises on his legs and swelling on his face. He also noticed a number of smiles on the faces of the infantrymen.

  “Centurion. The Century is your,” Carnifex informed the line officer. Then before turning away. “Corporal Sisera, on me.”

  “Yes sir,” Alerio responded.

  Once out of earshot of the Century, Carnifex looked at Alerio.

  “Want to explain the meat bag?” he inquired.

  “Private Honey Cakes is a renowned knife fighter, sir,” Alerio answered.

  “He must be the one the Optio was bragging about,” Carnifex suggested. “I’ll check in on them occasionally to be sure the lessons hold.”

  ***

  While the Legionaries trained, metal workers fired up their forge and smelting fires. The spoils, salvaged from the six thousand dead soldiers, was distributed and the iron, steel, copper, silver, and gold were reworked or melted into bars. Armor, good swords, and helmets were sorted. Merchants from Messina and traders from the Sons of Mars began paying coins for items they could resell at different ports.

  The Greek accountants kept track of the exchanges, meticulously counting and logging every transaction. One thing confused them, the Sons of Mars trade representatives outbid the professional merchants for the best weapons and bars of silver and copper.

  Late in the afternoon three days later, a messenger arrived at the Citadel with a parchment for Senior Tribune Gaius Claudius. After reading the message, he ordered the formation of a unit consisting of four Legionary guards, one Greek accountant, and a two-wheeled cart with a porter. The Tribune marched his small formation from the Citadel, down the hill and headed towards Messina harbor.

  “Tribune Claudius. It’s a beautiful afternoon,” Captain Ferox Creon greeted Gaius. “I’ve so been looking forward to this. It’s much better than a funeral.”

  “I can’t argue about the funeral but the rest is debatable,” Gaius responded as the cart was positioned on the dock beside a tee shaped structure. “Take off your sandals, your weapons belt, and the helmet.”

  “But this is my normal uniform,” pleaded the Sons of Mars captain.

  “If you wore that heavy iron helmet and fell overboard, you’d be greeting Neptune before you could get it off, Pirate,” Gaius complained. “I said a quarter of your weight, not the weight of anything you could hang off your body.”

  “I happen to agree, Tribune. I am sick of cheese so let’s get this over with,” Creon urged while rubbing his belly.

  “Greek. Check the scales,” Gaius instructed the accountant.

  A beam anchored securely to the dock supported a cross beam. From the cross beam, ropes hung down holding reinforced barrel tops on both sides. The Greek reached up and studied a stick protruding from the joint of the beams. After shifting the stick so it reflected one-quarter of the angle, he pulled on one side and then the other.

  “Senior Tribune Claudius. The scales appear to be balanced and free,” the Greek announced.

  “Captain Ferox Creon, please have a seat,” Gaius instructed. Once the Pirate was seated on one side of the scales, he looked at the Greek. “Begin.”

  Pouches of coins and a gold bar were placed on the opposite side of the scale. When another pouch was added, Ferox’s side lifted from the dock. Another pouch dropped on the pile caused him to rise higher. Then the Greek reached into a pouch and dropped individual coins on the scale.

  Around them, Sons of Mars crewmen cheered as each coin hit the scale and Ferox’s barrel top crept higher.

  “Captain Frigian. Check to be sure the Legionary officer isn’t cheating us,” Creon ordered Milon while winking at Gaius.

  “I’d say it needs to move at least five more coins worth,” Frigian announced after peering at the stick. “Gold coins would be best.”

  “You’ll get copper,” Gaius stated nodding at the Greek to add the weight. “Even though I believe you’re cheating me.”

  “Tribune Claudius. Would the Sons of Mars cheat a valuable partner?” Creon asked as the additional coins dropped onto the scale.

  “Of that, I have no doubt,” Gaius replied. Turning away from the scales, he indicated the alleyway leading off the dock and back into Messina. As the Greek, the porter with the cart and the guards marched off, Gaius glanced at the Pirate. “That concludes our business, Captain Creon.”

  “If you need the Sons to save the Legion again, you know where to find us,” Creon replied. Laughing, the Pirate stood slowly letting the other side of the scales settle on the dock. Then holding out his arms, he addressed the crews gathered to watch the payment. “Tomorrow, I’m taking a turn at the oars. And if I ask for cheese, make me swim behind the boat.”

  Chapter 19 – A Split in the Road

  At sunrise the next morning, advance units of cavalry rode out to patrol the Legion’s route. Nicephrus Division led off the march. General Caudex and his staff settled in the middle of the heavy infantry. At the rear, their supply wagons and mules plodded along with the rear security Centuries.

  “Colonel Nicephrus. At this pace, it’ll take us weeks to reach Syracuse,” complained Caudex. “Can’t we pick it up?”

  “General, the infantry can cover the distance to Catania comfortably in under three days,” the Colonel replied. “But we’ll out march our supplies. It’s better to arrive and be able to sustain the Centuries rather than have the infantry foraging or stealing food from a city.”

  “When you put it like that, I can see the advantage of not making an enemy of a city to our rear,” Caudex agreed.

  Requiem Division stepped off next and despite the steady march, it was late midmorning before the wagons and mules moved and the rear-guard Centuries left Messina.

  As men do when trudging along on a long march, they sang.

  Be aware the Legion is over the rise

  Give us your grain and your pledge

  Give us leeway on the roads ahead

  Give us your blade and we’ll oblige

  With a sharp gladius in your side

  Through Sicilia, we stomp and march

  Prepare for us a triumphant arch

  Stifle your hews and pitiful cries

  The Legion is coming over the rise

  We faced King Hiero and his hoplites

  After tasting the strength of our infantry

  In moonlit, they crept into the trees

  Then we turned on the Empire’s might

  We flexed but our center held tight

  Flung his mer
cenaries across the region

  The Empire learned to fear our Legion

  Our arms and hearts know the fight

  It’s our enemy who panics at our sight

  Be aware the Legion is over the rise

  Give us your grain and your pledge

  Give us leeway on the roads ahead

  Give us your blade and we’ll oblige

  With a sharp gladius in your side

  Through Sicilia, we stomp and march

  Prepare for us a triumphant arch

  Stifle your hews and pitiful cries

  The Legion is coming over the rise

  Naxos on the shore gone in decay

  Ancient ruins with spirits and ghosts

  only come out at night, they boast

  Holy men, crazies, and priest swear

  But we kept an eye out if they dare

  We’ve iron javelins to pierce their souls

  In case the spirits come out to stroll

  Even the shades know Legion's blades

  Stay in their graves during our days

  Five days of marching brought the advance units into view of a city on the Strait of Messina. The ancient trading center of Catania smartly sent emissaries to speak with General Caudex. A tent was erected with one side left open facing the road. If the representatives from Catania had any idea of resisting or not offering a fair price on supplies, the long lines of infantrymen marching passed quickly quelled the thought.

  Waters of the Strait on our hip

  Peaks of Mount Etna on the right

  And we watch for Vulcan’s light

  Down through Sicilia between

  Hoping his bellows stay clean

  Cool is the forge on Montebello

  God resting like a hearty fellow

  If it flares we dive over the cliff

  Armor too heavy for a deep dip

  Be aware the Legion is over the rise

  Give us your grain and your pledge

  Give us leeway on the roads ahead

  Give us your blade and we’ll oblige

  With a sharp gladius in your side

  Through Sicilia, we stomp and march

  Prepare for us a triumphant arch

  Stifle your hews and pitiful cries

  The Legion is coming over the rise

  We’ll bring Syracuse to her knees

  Teach King Hiero the Republic way

  We’ll reduce his walls to wet clay

  Red from his soldiers if he resists

  Paint courtesy of the Legion’s best

  Behind your walls, you cannot hide

  Stone by stone a hole we’ll pry

  We’ll come in any way we please

  Keep your pleas and your keys

  The two Legions reached the split in the road south of Catania and created separate camps. Wagons from both emptied their loads and returned to the city for the purchased supplies.

  Headquarters First Century set their ring around the General’s tent while Nicephrus Division Legionaries dug a broad trench around their camp. Sentries walked the perimeter and, as they reached the area adjacent to the Requiem camp, they waved across the distance at the other sentries.

  ***

  “Corporal Sisera. Senior Tribune Claudius wants you at the command tent, immediately,” a runner informed Alerio.

  He stopped pounding in the stake for Centurion Carnifex’s tent to reply to the runner, “Inform Tribune Claudius, I’ll be there as soon as I get cleaned and dressed.”

  “No, Corporal. You’re wanted at the General’s tent,” the runner stated while pointing at the other Legion camp. “Colonel Requiem and Senior Tribune Claudius are already there.”

  Alerio handed the mallet off to a Private, picked up a bucket of water and poured it over his head. With his tunic damp and dirty from the day's march, he pulled on his armor, stuck the helmet under his arm and jogged towards the trench.

  ***

  Access to the General’s staff tent was, by necessity, restricted. As he approached the First Century’s sentries, Alerio prepared himself for the harassment everyone below Centurion received.

  “Corporal Sisera. I’ve been ordered to report to Senior Tribune Gaius Claudius,” Alerio reported to the hard-looking sentry.

  “You are cleared to pass, Death Caller,” the Legionary informed him.

  Confused by the easy passage, Alerio pondered whether it was the nickname or his promotion and position as a weapons instructor. When he pushed into the tent, he discovered it was neither.

  “Corporal Sisera. Stand behind Senior Tribune Claudius,” Senior Centurion Valerian ordered.

  Alerio eased through the tent navigating between Tribunes and Centurions until he reached the Senior Tribune. Claudius glanced back, nodded at him then returned his attention to the map table.

  “Corporal Alerio Sisera is here because Gaius requested him as his personal bodyguard,” announced Senior Centurion Valerian. “For those of you who don’t know the Corporal, have a good look at him. For the rest of this mission, where Tribune Claudius goes you’ll find the Corporal.”

  Because of the Legion training, most of the staff and line officers knew Alerio on sight. A few didn’t and their eyes quickly passed over him. Two additional line officers entered and the Senior Centurion acknowledged them before turning to where Colonel Nicephrus and Colonel Requiem stood talking with General Caudex.

  “Colonel Requiem. Everyone is here,” Valerian informed the battle commander.

  Pericles Requiem whispered a few words to the General before facing the room.

  “Gentlemen, from this split in the road, we head south to Syracuse,” Requiem explained. “The other split heads southwest towards the mountains and a city named Echetla. From our reports, we know Echetla is a thriving community with large garrisons and field units to suppress bandits. This is a concern. When we engage King Hiero’s forces at the walls of Syracuse, the General doesn’t want Echetla troops coming up on our rear or cutting our supply lines.”

  “Sir. A garrison and a few marshals who chase bandits?” inquired a cavalry officer. “Why bother?”

  “Because Centurion, Echetla’s soldiers garrison the mountain pass from the west. They are there to stop a Qart Hadasht invasion,” the Colonel informed him. “That means they have enough experienced soldiers to rotate from the mountains to the city. Half of their forces will be in Echetla at any given time to defend against an attack from Syracuse. It’s a strong enemy and a valuable potential ally. For those reasons, Senior Tribune Claudius will take a detachment and negotiate with the leadership at Echetla.”

  A murmur ran through the tent before the Colonel held up a hand to quiet them down.

  “Claudius Detachment needs to move fast,” Requiem instructed. “It’s about the same distance from here to Syracuse as it is to Echetla. But to the west, the hills begin while to the south, the road is flat. We need Senior Tribune Claudius sitting and talking with them before any messengers from Hiero reach Echetla.”

  “I’d recommend a cavalry detachment,” the Centurion of horse suggested.

  “We discussed that but decided we wanted a small show of force,” offered Requiem. “Six Centuries of heavy infantry, one of Velites and twenty horse. It’s a military presence but not enough to be perceived as a threat to Echetla. We prefer talking to fighting. Now, for supplies…”

  Alerio tuned out the logistics as he pondered how under six hundred Legionaries could be a show of force to the defenders of a major city. And why would the Senior Tribune require a personal bodyguard? Then a lad’s voice spoke up and Alerio refocused on the discussion.

  “I would like to accompany Senior Tribune Claudius,” volunteered Junior Tribune Castor Ireneus. While staring at the filthy garment under Alerio’s armor, he added. “Gaius will need a second set of educated ears to negotiate with Echetla’s governing council. My studies of oration and elocution make me the best choice.”

  “This is an important mission, young Castor,” Requiem respond
ed. “I don’t…”

  “Just a moment, Colonel,” interrupted General Caudex. “I understand the hesitation. The mission is important to us as well as dangerous. However, Tribune Ireneus will be in no more peril in Echetla than with the Legions assaulting the walls of Syracuse. I dare say, he will be safer with Senior Tribune Claudius. And no doubt, an asset during the deliberations.”

  Colonel Requiem’s face reddened and, for a moment, he almost objected. But politics triumphed over caution and he nodded his head in agreement.

  “As always General, your counsel, and your logic are flawless,” Requiem exclaimed. “Junior Tribune Castor Ireneus, you are assigned to Claudius Detachment.”

  “It’s the wisest choice,” Castor Ireneus assured the Colonel while smirking at the Tribunes and Centurions in the tent as if he’d won some kind of debate against his tutor.

  Chapter 20 – Mules and Grain

  Before dawn, five mounted Legionaries trotted away from Requiem Division. Shortly after, a half Century of Velites trotted out of the camp following the cavalry.

  “Here, take the reins for my pack horse,” instructed Castor.

  Alerio shifted in the light armor. His horse shied away from the young Tribune as the animal picked up his rider’s agitation at the request.

  “I can’t do that, sir,” Alerio replied.

  “I gave you an order, Corporal Sisera. Take the lead,” Castor insisted. “Or would you rather have another session on the punishment post?”

  For a heartbeat, Alerio wondered if he could knock Castor off his horse and hide the body before the detachment rode out. He was saved from the evil thought when Senior Tribune Claudius and Colonel Requiem emerged from the Colonel’s tent.

  “The Legions will take about six days to reach Syracuse,” Requiem explained. “You have to be in Echetla and making an agreement before King Hiero has time to send them an offer.”

  “I understand, sir. If it’s at all possible, I’ll keep Echetla out of the fight,” Gaius assured the Colonel as he climbed on his horse. A servant standing on the ground handed the Tribune the reins for a pack horse. Then, to the moonlit shadows of infantrymen, Claudius ordered. “Centurions. Take them out.”