Infinite Courage Page 2

  Horatius’ head snapped around. From being one of the last Legionaries in the columns, sweat coated his face and dirt caked everywhere except his mouth, nostrils, and eyes where he blinked them clear.

  “This is cruel,” Horatius spit out the words along with a wet wad of dirt. “You don’t know the conditioning of these men.”

  “You’re right, Decanus Ostrei,” Alerio admitted. “I don’t know the conditioning of these men. But I know what’s expected of a Legionary. The tail is lagging behind. Try to keep up.”

  Alerio put on a burst of speed and climbed to a break in the line where infantrymen were struggling. After scrambling out of the ravine, he dropped into the adjacent one and joined the men running downhill. The Corporal shouted encouragement while passing those on the downward slope.

  ***

  Telesia Caudini and 5th Squad, although breathing hard, held themselves erect as they walked by Corporal Sisera. Behind them, the Legionaries came into camp in stages of exhaustion. Further back, pain showed on their faces and near the end of the columns, a few were limping. Horatius Ostrei and 1st Squad braced up at the sight of the Century’s Tesserarius.

  Alerio sat at a camp desk beside the path. With a quill in one hand and a mug of water in the other, the Corporal seemed relaxed as if he had spent the day napping under a tree. Unknown to the Legionaries, he had raced ahead and ducked his head in a bucket of water to cool down. Then he peeled off the sweat-soaked tunic and replaced it with a matching one.

  “Fall out,” he called to each Legionary as they passed. “The run was a nice warm-up for the day.”

  When out of earshot, or so the squads thought, they marveled at the dry and relaxed Corporal. One overriding question, whether rhetorical or based on actual curiosity, was ‘who is this guy?’

  They didn’t realize Alerio’s stomach was in knots from the run and all he wanted to do was lay down and take a nap. He didn’t. Instead, he smiled and welcomed the rest of the Century back to camp.

  ***

  The Century spent the afternoon pulling weeds and digging brush to clear the practice field. Mounds were formed for archery and javelin practice. Even though they didn’t have bows, arrows, or javelins to use on the targets, they did have muscles. A few engaged in wrestling in the fighting pit. Other’s raced in sprints on the short, measured track. Once the gladius drill posts were set, Corporal Sisera ended the work details and gave the Legionaries the afternoon off. He had no choice; they didn’t have gladii or shields either.

  As the sun moved lower in the sky, Alerio walked the camp talking with the men and getting to know them. Most of the Legionaries greeted him respectfully. Some were standoffish which was understandable, he was a new authority figure. What surprised the Corporal, the men in the 1st and 2nd Squads were openly hostile.

  ***

  “Maximus Century! Get up, get out, and get on the parade ground.”

  Shadows moved from the entrances of five tents. Two more contuberniums joined them but the Legionaries from 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Squads, once again, hesitated to respond.

  “Fall in on me, columns of twos,” Alerio ordered.

  The seven squads formed up facing their Tesserarius. Standing silently in the early morning light, they waited to see how the NCO would handle the disrespectful squads.

  “I wonder if the missing squads realize that I control the pay records, the supply inventory, and the funeral funds?” Alerio called out. “Century, stand by.”

  Fifty-six Legionaries responded, “Standing by, Corporal.”

  “Turnabout, march,” Alerio directed. He jogged to the head of the column and fell in beside the 10th Squad. “Who is your Decanus?”

  A thick brute of a man replied, “I am Palinurus and I command the tent.”

  “Decanus Palinurus, guide the Century to the beach.”

  “What about the missing squads?”

  “What missing squads?” Alerio questioned.

  “Corporal, the ones still in their tents?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “But?”

  “March to the beach and listen for my command,” Alerio advised. Then the NCO shouted. “Left, stomp, left stomp.”

  At first, a ripple rolled through the columns. After a few more cadence calls, the Legionaries caught the rhythm and the hobnailed boots on the gravelly beach crunched down as one. The Corporal jogged to the front, passed Palinurus and 10th Squad, and stopped.

  “Column left, march,” Alerio ordered when the front of the column reached him.

  Decanus Palinurus missed his mark and the man to his left slammed him with his shoulder when he turned left. The big Legionary shoved the man and was pushed back in return. Behind the scuffling pair, the infantrymen bunched up and the columns stopped.

  “Palinurus. Raise your right hand,” Alerio requested.

  The Legionary lifted his left. Looking around for approval and seeing none, he raised his right arm.

  “Column left, march,” Corporal Sisera ordered while pointing up the bank in the direction of the practice field.

  Coming off the hard surface of the beach, the Century’s steps were ragged in the loose dirt. Once on the flat of the practice field, the NCO called the Century to a halt.

  “Breakdown by squads,” Alerio directed. “We’re going to run contubernium shield drills.”

  “But we don’t have shields, Corporal,” Palinurus reminded him.

  Lifting and bending his left arm as if holding a shield, Alerio called out, “Get them up. Draw.”

  He mimicked pulling and holding a gladius down by his right side.

  A Legionary laughed and put his hands on his hips.

  “This is ridiculous,” the man proclaimed.

  Alerio marched over to him and inquired, “Your name?”

  “Lance Corporal Acharis Enitui of 4th Squad. And this is foolish and useless without shields and gladii.”

  With his left arm bent and held up, and the right down by his side, Alerio’s arms appeared to hold a shield and blade.

  “That is an interesting observation, Decanus Enitui,” the NCO offered. “Let’s test the opinion. Advance!”

  The motion as proscribed by the Legion involved a smash with the shield, and once it was withdrawn, a thrust with the blade. Although Alerio had neither, Enitui caught a forearm in the chin before the Corporal hammered a fist into the Legionary’s chest.

  “That wasn’t fair, I wasn’t ready,” Acharis Enitui complained. The strikes had driven him back into the arms of 4th Squad.

  “Do they not teach the advance command in the Northern Legion?” inquired Alerio. “I assumed it was a standard tactic.”

  “Of course, they do. But we use real weapons,” Enitui replied. He shook off the arms of his squad mates and leaned forward putting his face close to Corporal Sisera’s. “We don’t play at war.”

  “I’m going to give the advance command again. But I want to be sure you’re ready,” Alerio cautioned. “Here we go, advance.”

  Acharis threw up both hands in a wrestling guard and spread his legs. Because he was leaning forward, the Corporal’s forearm drove the arms up and out of position. On the way down, the forearm smashed Enitui’s nose. Then the forearm withdrew and the NCO’s right fist came up and buried itself in the Decanus’ solar plexus. The squad leader for 4th Squad doubled over in pain, bleeding from his nose, gagging and gasping for air.

  Alerio leaned down and put his mouth by the distressed Legionary’s ear.

  “I don’t play at war, either,” he whispered. Then to all the squads. “We are the Legion’s heavy infantry, craftsmen of war, and because we are journeymen warriors, we fight with whatever is available. Lance Corporal Enitui forgot that every advance is a killing move. With or without weapons. Now, pick up your shields and your gladii. If you can’t find them, I’ll come over and instruct you.”

  Looking around, Alerio noted the fifty-five Legionaries on the practice field holding out their bent left arms and
pressing invisible gladii against their right hips. Slowly, Acharis Enitui straightened, wiped the blood from his nose, and lifted his arms as if holding a weapon and a shield.

  ***

  “Flank march, advance, step back,” Alerio shouted. “Right pivot.”

  On the practice field, the seven squads moved at an angle, shoved their pretend shields forward, withdrew them, and struck out with their fists. After taking a step to the rear, they swung their line to the right. All of them maintained the shoulder to shoulder formation, except for 10th Squad.

  “Decanus Palinurus, do you like being a squad leader?” Alerio asked as he marched up to the eight, out of line, Legionaries. “Because I look at you and see an unmovable stone pillar. If I was building a solid shield wall, I would want someone of your stature as an anchor.”

  “I can fight,” Palinurus informed the Corporal. “It’s just repeating your commands and remembering to follow is hard.”

  One of his squad mates raised a hand and patted the big Legionary on the arm. The calming gesture of reassurance came from the smallest man in the contubernium.

  “Palinurus. I think this squad requires protection on their right side. A powerful, unmoving shield. You will be 10th Squad’s right pivot,” Alerio announced. Then he examined the small Legionary. “Your name?”

  “Lucius Tescum, Corporal.”

  “Palinurus, I’m making a change in 10th Squad. As the right pivot, I need to know if you’ll protect Lucius Tescum. Can he depend on your fist, gladius, and shield to defend your new squad leader from harm?”

  A smile crossed the big man’s face as if a weight had been lifted.

  “10th Squad’s right side will never falter and will never be breached,” Palinurus swore. “Decanus Tescum has my gladius to command.”

  “Then straighten your line,” Corporal Sisera instructed. To the Century, he ordered. “Turnabout, left pivot, advance, advance, advance.”

  Seven squad leaders repeated the commands while performing them. In the chaos of combat, their voices would be recognizable to their squad members allowing a contubernium of eight heavy infantrymen to fight as a unit.

  ***

  Before mid-morning, three squads marched from the beach. Lance Corporal Horatius Ostrei strutted at the side of the formation calling cadence. They topped the rise from the beach and came to a staggered stop.

  1st, 2nd, and 3rd Squads gawked at the shouting and repeating of orders as the bulk of the Century moved, attacked, and pivoted. A few chuckled at the unarmed men acting as if they had weapons. The more experienced Legionaries took in the maneuvering and nodded their approval.

  “What’s the plan now, Ostrei?” one asked.

  Another added, “I don’t think the Century missed your leadership.”

  Before Decanus Horatius could think of an answer, Corporal Sisera called the Century together. Once formed, the seven squads marched off the practice field and passed the three disobedient squads. No one said a word or acknowledged Horatius Ostrei’s revolt or resistance.

  Chapter 3 – Wet Threat

  Alerio hung back to allow the seven squads to go ahead. It was tempting to confront Horatius Ostrei about the missed training and disrespect. But he was only a Tesserarius and heavy punishment required a Sergeant or an officer. Besides, his throat was sore from yelling commands and hunger pains gnawed at his midsection. Looking around the camp, he noted the Centurion’s tent remained empty and there was no sign of the Century’s Optio. Resigned to shouldering the divided Century by himself, he climbed from the beach. Suddenly, his senses were assaulted by the smell of hot camp stew.

  ‘One of the squads has a cook,’ the Corporal thought before turning the corner of the NCOs’ tent.

  Grilli squatted at a fire in front of the tent, stirring the aromatic substance in an iron pot.

  “Is that for me?” Alerio questioned. “If it’s not, I’m willing to wrestle you for a bowl.”

  “The mule handlers took advantage of the leisure you’ve provided and baked bread this morning,” Grilli said while spooning meat and vegetables into a bowl. He handed it to Alerio then unwrapped a loaf of bread. “You haven’t assigned any of us to squads. We’re curious if it’s an oversight or part of your strategy.”

  “Having a servant is important for freeing up infantrymen so they can fight,” Alerio replied between mouthfuls of stew and bread. “While training, mundane tasks fill the days. And help strengthen the bonds between members of a contubernium.”

  “No offense Corporal Sisera, but you seem to have military wisdom beyond your years,” Grilli commented.

  “For years while I was growing up, an experienced Centurion and Optio came to my father’s farm for the harvest,” Alerio explained. “They were both unmarried and childless. I think they pounded lessons into me as if I was their son. From weapons training to tactics, to the best practices of the Legion, I was drilled, punished, and tested. All of the training gives me an edge. However, it doesn’t give me all of the answers.”

  “You’re referring to Lance Corporal Ostrei’s actions,” Grilli pondered. “If I might, I have a suggestion.”

  “Please tell me. An experienced Legion animal wrangler’s idea can’t be any worse than a new Tesserarius’,” Alerio said while dipping a piece of bread into the bottom of the bowl.

  “Solve the issue with Horatius Ostrei before Optio Gustavi arrives,” Grilli offered. “Make him respect you. If that’s not possible, make him fear you. Become his worst nightmare.”

  “It might be easier to just slice him into pieces in a duel,” Alerio pondered.

  “There is always that approach,” Grilli confirmed. “More stew?”

  ***

  When he was finished eating, Alerio began walking the camp. And doing something unexpected.

  “9th Squad, are you the Decanus?”

  “Quiris Stulte, Corporal Sisera,” a man acknowledged. He had no fat under his flesh to cover his muscles. As he stood, the rope-like cords under his skin flexed with the slightest movement. “Is there a problem?”

  “Get your squad out here and let me see their feet.”

  “Feet, Tesserarius?” Stulte inquired with a raised eyebrow. Even that small movement sent ripples through his facial muscles. “You want to look at men’s feet?”

  “Toes actually. Specifically, between the toes,” Alerio corrected.

  “9th Squad. Gather around, the Corporal wants to see your toes,” Quiris Stulte informed his contubernium.

  “But I haven’t painted mine today,” one Legionary exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.

  “I pity you. My feet are so pretty, they need no embellishment.”

  “I’ve seen your feet. They are as ugly as an old knotty oak.”

  “That’s your opinion. Let’s see whose feet the Corporal proclaims are the cutest.”

  The comments brought chuckles from the rest of the squad and Alerio ignored the taunting. He wanted to laugh but thought it would undermine his authority. Instead, he stood stern-faced with his arms folded across his chest. When all eight Legionaries had their boots off, he bent and inspected their feet.

  “I was recently on a Greek boat,” Alerio began when a Legionary interrupted.

  “Oh, that explains it.”

  More laughter accompanied the comment.

  “As I was saying, I was on a Greek transport. The sailors weren’t big on bathing,” Alerio informed them which brought about sounds of yuks and disgust. “But none had any skin problems with their feet.”

  “Because they’re not stomping through mud during rainstorms,” Quiris Stulte remarked.

  “True, and because they hung their feet off the side of the boat,” Alerio offered. “The salt water kept their feet free of sores.”

  “You want us to soak our feet in the sea?”

  “Just two of you. Those are some of the most disgusting feet, I’ve ever seen.”

  “Seen a lot of feet, have you?”

  Alerio looked away and scanned the cam
p.

  “Unfortunately, not yet,” he said as he moved to another squad’s area.

  ***

  “Maximus Century. Get your boots off, strip down, and join me on the beach,” Alerio announced.

  With the memory of the Corporal studying everyone’s feet fresh in their minds, the Legionaries began accusing each other of having ugly feet. While they undressed and continued the teasing, Alerio marched to the NCOs’ tent. He unstrapped his boots and pulled the tunic over his head.

  “Are you injured?” Grilli inquired.

  He indicated the silk wrapped around the Corporal’s waist.

  “No. I have a dagger hidden in there.”

  “Very wise, Corporal Sisera. You never know when you’ll run into a sea monster.”

  “Or two-legged fish with iron teeth.”

  Alerio picked his way across the gravel area with only a few dealings with pointed rocks. On the sandy section, he stood letting the waves roll over his feet. The Century filed onto the beach and to Alerio’s surprise, Horatius Ostrei and his rebellious men stood among the other squads.

  “Every Legionary can swim,” Alerio called out as he backed into deeper water. “Some enjoy the exercise. Others swim only when necessary. And a few, wouldn’t take time to wash their feet.”

  A round of accusations bounced through the Century and Alerio let the good-natured ribbing go unchecked. When it died down, he raised his arms.

  “Who is a fast swimmer?”

  Pentri Umbria, Decanus for 6th Squad, stepped forward.

  “Lance Corporal Umbria, you are first in. I’ll signal with a wave,” Alerio ordered. “When you get back to the beach, there shouldn’t be anyone to meet you.”

  Pentri nodded his understanding.

  “I’m going to swim out. You will come out, swim around me, and head for shore,” Alerio continued. “Questions?”

  “I have a question,” Horatius Ostrei remarked while pushing through the crowd of Legionaries. “If you drown, who is in command?”

  “If I drown, then you, Lance Corporal Ostrei would be the new Tesserarius.”

  “Thank you,” Horatius acknowledged before turning and walking back to his squad.

  ***