Muted Implications (Clay Warrior Stories Book 12) Read online

“They don’t,” Alerio confirmed. “Pull your people back and get moving.”

  Chapter 2 – Spears & Shields

  Centurion Sisera’s small detachment rested at dusk, when the moon was high, just before dawn, and at noon. Between the short breathing periods, the Legionaries forced marched. First south of Enna and around the mercenary army. Then on a northeast heading until the Legion Raiders angled into the woods a couple of miles east of the fortified city.

  “We don’t even know if the Qart Hadasht forces made it into Enna,” Corporal Milon remarked.

  The two remaining squad leaders walked with the NCO and the officer. They matched steps with the Centurion as he paced from one tree line, through a roadside field, across the road, then over to the opposite tree line.

  “This spot will do,” Alerio stated. He stopped and looked back to the other side of the road. “Even if they aren’t occupying it, by now they have troops circling the plateau. Besides, we’ll know by tonight if any confederates opened the gates for the Qart Hadasht mercenaries.”

  “How will we know, sir?” the NCO inquired. “Are we running a patrol there to check.”

  “There’s no need,” Alerio told him. “Come dark, any escaping Legionaries will come and tell us.”

  The Tesserarius peered up the wagon road and squinted into the twilight. In the distance, his view was cut by the thick trees on either side of the trail.

  “And if they are pursued?” Milton asked.

  “Then we close the backdoor,” Alerio remarked. “And the Qart Hadasht commander has a mystery on his hands.”

  “A mystery, sir?” Corporal Milon questioned.

  “What happened to his missing cavalry patrol? No one escapes, Tesserarius,” Alerio insisted. “Squad leaders, set our heavy infantry on the roadsides, then the archers and, lastly, our two skirmishers to catch the fleeing Legionnaires.”

  “Catch, sir?” one squad leader asked.

  “That’s right. We have extra shields and spears,” Alerio reminded the Corporal and the Lance Corporals. “The more Legionaries and auxiliary troops that escape, the stronger we will become.”

  “Sir, it sounds as if you plan to make a stand here,” one of the Decani suggested.

  “There are twenty-five rough miles between here and our forces at Centuripe,” Alerio stated. “Without us, it would be like ignoring a break in an irrigation trench.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” one of the squad leaders inquired. “What does irrigation have to do with this situation?”

  “Once water bursts through a dike, it spreads out, making it difficult to collect the water,” Alerio described. He was thinking about the drainage and watering system at his father’s farm. “We are the plug in the wall of the irrigation trench. The Qart Hadasht forces need to be stopped here. Or, they will march to the east coast of Sicilia, causing trouble and threatening the alliances the Senate has made.”

  “How can we stand against an army, sir?” Milton questioned.

  “One at a time,” Alerio responded.

  “One what, Centurion?” a squad leader begged.

  “One missing patrol at a time,” Alerio explained. “Now, set the men at fifty percent watch. It will be dark soon.”

  ***

  Optio Pontus stumbled and the wounded infantryman, supported by the Sergeant’s arm, almost spun to the ground.

  “March, Legionary,” the NCO encouraged.

  The Optio and five Legionaries had scaled the east wall and dropped a rope down the far side. Four of the men and the Optio made it safely to the ground outside Enna. The fifth caught an arrow and tumbled off the wall. Fortunately, he had a firm grip on the rope that broke his fall. But now, the infantryman suffered an arrow wound, rope burns on one hand and, most likely, broken ribs.

  The six Legionaries slid down the cliff’s face before reaching level ground. Further away from Enna, they found the wagon trail. At first, they resisted being highlighted by the moon’s light on the hard surface. But, getting away from Enna fast was the best way to avoid dawn patrols.

  Two of the healthy Legionaries watched the rear for pursuit. The other two traveled out front searching in the dark for a path to get the escapees off the main road.

  “Horses,” the rear guard declared. “Run.”

  They quickly caught up with the Optio. One slowed and took the free arm of the injured man. Together the four raced forward. As they approached the pair out front, two of them took the legs of the injured Legionary. Sticking together, the six fugitives jogged down the wagon trail.

  “Merda,” one cried after glancing over his shoulder.

  Behind them, five mounted mercenaries trotted into view. Their helmets, the steel tips of their spears, and the flashing legs of their mounts seemed to blaze in the moonlight.

  As confident as the cavalrymen were in catching the escapees, the Legionaries were as sure of their doom. But they continued to struggle along the road with no thought of abandoning the wounded man. Bonds forged in the madness of a maniple formation ran deep.

  “Legionaries,” the Optio shouted in a final announcement to his men. “It has been my pleasure.”

  “Rah, Optio,” the four healthy infantrymen replied. Even the injured man managed to mouth the refrain.

  The horses neared. And the hoofs on the hard-packed road pounded as if they were twenty hammers shaping tin. Stiffening their shoulders, the Legionaries expected the steel tips and death before the next heartbeat.

  Five swooshes, almost imperceptible over the hard breathing, marked the passage of Legion arrows. In response, two of the horses reared up, their reins being tugged by falling riders.

  The three mercenaries still mounted glanced at their companions. Two jerked and vanished from the backs of their horses. Spears jutting from their chests followed them to the ground. The last cavalryman spun his mount and kicked it savagely in the ribs.

  ***

  A pair of skirmishers stepped onto the road. With their Velites’ shields, they stopped the six fleeing Legionaries.

  “Relax, we got this,” one skirmisher said to Optio Pontus.

  Turning about, the Sergeant watched as the final horseman attempted to breach a line of heavy infantry shields. Both the mercenary and the horse died on the Legion barrier.

  “Sorry about the horse, sir,” the voice of Tesserarius Milon called out.

  “That’s alright,” an officer replied. “Try to be more careful the next time.”

  The comb on the officer’s helmet bristled sharply in the moonlight. Optio Pontus would swear later, it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

  “Welcome to the Raiders,” Alerio greeted the escaped Legionaries. “I’m Centurion Sisera and we need to get you off the road.”

  ***

  Not much later, three Legionaries crept from Enna. Using stealth, they avoided the Qart Hadasht sentries. On the open road, they broke into a Legion jog that would easily carry them ten miles.

  “That’s far enough,” a voice called from the night.

  The three escapees put on a burst of speed, but Legion shields popped up from the dark. They smacked into the scuta and bounced off.

  “We can do this all night,” the voice complained. “But we really need to get you off the road.”

  Realization came to the three that the voice was Latian and shields were Legion. They relaxed.

  “Who am I speaking to?” one demanded.

  “Centurion Sisera,” Alerio replied. “Get off my road, before I have you removed.”

  Two skirmishers materialized from the side of the trail.

  “Follow us,” they instructed.

  “Who are you people?” an escapee asked.

  “Welcome to the Raiders,” one of the Veles responded.

  The five shuffled to the tree line and vanished into the night’s shadows.

  “Do you think they will slow down?” Corporal Melton asked.

  “I’m not worried about Legionaries escaping,” Alerio remarked. “I’m worried about
the search party.”

  “Looking for their lost patrol?”

  “Exactly. Go check on Optio Pontus,” Alerio directed. “See if he is having any trouble passing out the spears and shields.”

  “Yes, Centurion,” Melton acknowledged.

  ***

  Two more heavy infantrymen walked into the trap and were shuffled off to the supply area. There they were handed a spear and a shield.

  “Don’t you have a gladius?” one asked. “I like to get up close and personal.”

  Another huffed and blew air out from between his lips.

  “How about a pilum?” he complained. “I’d be happier standing back and chucking javelins at the mercenaries.”

  “You’ll take the shield and the spear,” Optio Pontus ordered. “and at dawn, you will take your place in the combat line with the equipment you have.”

  While the senior NCO organized the newly arrived Legionaries, on the road Alerio Sisera received a gift.

  Stomping on their right foot, an organized Legion squad marched into the ambush site.

  “Halt,” Alerio called to the unit. “Who is your Decanus?”

  “Who are you?” a voice challenged.

  The contubernium shifted to a ten-man defensive formation. Their javelin arms cocked back and ready to throw.

  “Centurion Alerio Sisera,” Alerio reported. “Please stand down before my guys get the wrong idea.”

  “How do I know…?” the squad leader began.

  From the darkness, heavy infantry shields appeared and pressed into a circle around the formation.

  “Unless the Qart Hadasht have a Legionary unit,” Alerio pointed out. “You are facing Republic infantrymen.”

  “Stand down,” the light infantry squad leader ordered. “Sir, Lance Corporal Baccio and second squad, second Century Veles.”

  “Welcome to the party, Decanus,” Alerio stated. “How did you manage to get an entire squad and your gear out of Enna?”

  “Luck from the God Sors and darkness from God Erebus. I need to sacrifice to them,” Baccio replied. “We hid in a stable with our gear and waited for the soldiers to get their bellies full of vino. Come to think of it, I need to add Bacchus to the sacrifice.”

  “Decanus Baccio, if we live through this,” Alerio promised. “I’ll foot the bill for the sacrificial animals.”

  “Sounds good to me, sir,” Baccio commented. “Where do you want us.”

  The two Skirmishers came from the side of the road.

  “Baccio, you got all of the second out?” one asked.

  “What? You think those wild haired, for hire lads can trap the second Veles?” Baccio bragged. “Where is the staging area?”

  “Follow us,” the Raider light infantrymen directed.

  After the squad vanished into the deepening shadows of the forest, Corporal Milon shifted to Alerio’s side.

  “A full squad of light infantry,” Milton said. “You have a half Century under your command, sir.”

  “Let’s hope it’s enough,” Alerio remarked. “The moon is going down. Before it gets too dark, move us further east. I want hills on both sides to prevent the mercenaries from rounding our ends.”

  “And to keep their army from getting by us,” Milton added.

  Chapter 3 – It Is a Go

  An early morning mist clung to the ground. It made no difference for Alerio. He saw the mounted patrol as soon as they came out of the trees, and they noticed him.

  “Sir, couldn’t we ambush them like the others?” Decanus Baccio inquired.

  Alerio kept his face towards the riders but spoke from the side of his mouth.

  “Without the darkness for cover, I’m afraid we’d suffer injuries,” he responded. “And ruin our surprise.”

  “We have a shield wall with skirmishers and unarmored heavy infantrymen mixed with armored ones,” Baccio remarked. “It seems we will take losses when they hit our lines.”

  “Their infantry has to organize and march to us first,” Alerio explained. He fluffed the red cape to be sure the mounted soldiers saw the garment. “Seeing a Legion Centurion staring at them, should delay their reaction to much later in the day.”

  “How is a Centurion on display in all his pageantry, sir,” Optio Pontus quizzed, “a delaying action?”

  “Because, Qart Hadasht command will argue about how big a force to send after us. And it’ll take time to gather the additional units,” Alerio informed the Sergeant, Corporal Milton, and Lance Corporal Baccio.

  “You want them to send more soldiers?” Milton asked. “I thought you didn’t want injuries.”

  “What surprise, Sir?” Pontus injected, returning the conversation to Alerio’s previous comment.

  “That we are not a full infantry Century,” Alerio responded. He saluted the patrol before the riders turned back for Enna. “And our Legionaries have a better chance of survival in a shield wall. Better than chasing mounted soldiers around in an open field. Stand them down. It’ll be after midday before we get more visitors.”

  “How can you be so sure, sir?” Baccio inquired.

  “I’ve fought Empire mercenaries before,” Alerio clarified. “They are top heavy in command. Mostly, their squad leaders are just the biggest soldiers and their infantry officers are political appointees. Their Captains will need to rally the individual units.”

  “An army of staff officers?” Milton blurted out before realizing what he said. “Excuse me, Centurion. My mouth got away from me.”

  “Tesserarius, you say that when a Tribune is around and you’ll be riding the punishment post,” Alerio warned. “As it is, it’s not a bad analogy. Get someone on a horse and send them up the road to keep watch.”

  ***

  To the Legionaries in his patched together command, Centurion Sisera appeared to be a fortune teller. Even if he missed the arrival of the Qart Hadasht forces by part of a day, their showing up in the afternoon and not in the morning attested to the infantry officer’s knowledge of the enemy.

  “Those are mercenaries,” Alerio bellowed. His voice easily carried from one end of the defensive line to the other. “They are far from home and fighting for blood coins.”

  He pushed between a pair of shields and strutted to the front of his line.

  “Our Republic sits eighty miles from here just across the Messina strait. You are fighting for your homes and families,” Alerio educated the Legionaries while strolling down the line of shields. He reached one end, turned, and began the short trip back. “By your gladius and spear, the Empire soldiers are about to experience the blessings of Algea.”

  A few men on the line laughed as did the NCOs standing behind the shield wall. The notion that the Legionaries were instruments for the Goddess of Pain tickled some and caused others to pray to their personal God. Almost as if reading the latter’s thoughts, Centurion Sisera continued.

  “My deity is with me today,” Alerio shouted. “I know yours is as well. For Victoria is certainly behind us and watching.”

  No laughter came at the mention of the Goddess of Victory. Simple nods of acknowledgement signified their agreement.

  Alerio pivoted and was about to push through the shields when a voice called out.

  “Centurion. Who is your personal God?” an infantryman questioned.

  Men without strong feelings were known to adopt their commander’s God or Goddess. They believed additional people praying to the officer’s deity increased its power and thus influenced the outcome of the battle.

  Tesserarius Milon, holding his arm low, attempted to wave off the reply. But as all men who forged their beliefs in the fire of combat, Centurion Sisera would not deny his Goddess or lie to his Legionaries.

  “My personal Goddess,” Alerio answered.

  He stepped back from the face of the shields and marched to a position at the center of the combat line. Then he began to chant in a raspy, out of tune voice.

  “You hover just out of sight. But death is called. To claim lives. With gentle h
ands so light,” Alerio intoned. He extended an arm towards the ranks of the Empire soldiers and continued. “Take them with care. As is a warrior’s right. Goddess of Death, Nenia Dea, hear our plight. As you hover just out of sight.”

  Everyone knew the Goddess would find the battlefield. She always did once the killing started. Souls needed to be freed from ruined bodies and Nenia obliged. However, to beckon the Goddess of Death before the clash of steel and first drop of blood was a frightening concept.

  “Death is my companion,” Alerio stated. “It is neither a curse nor a blessing. It is simply my relationship with my Goddess. Follow her if you will. But know, Nenia does not take sides. And she is impatient to fulfill her task.”

  As if Alerio’s Goddess gave them a nudge, the front ranks of the Qart Hadasht assault element stepped forward. Soldiers in tall helmets lowered and leveled spears as they marched across the open ground.

  “Praying time is over,” Optio Pontus announced. “Legionaries, draw.”

  “Draw,” the mixture of light and heavy infantrymen shouted.

  Of the thirty-four Legionaries, four were archers who strung their bows at the command, and six other men untied bundles of javelins. Only the twenty-four Legionaries on the thin defensive line and the NCOs drew gladii.

  ***

  On the right side, the land fell away while on the opposite side the terrain climbed. Occupying the relatively flat earth between the features, the Legion’s defensive line and the advancing Empire soldiers clashed.

  “Brace, brace,” Pontus and Milon ordered.

  Their instructions were repeated by the Decani, embedded in the line. In a heartbeat, the legs, backs, and arms of the Legionaries stiffened, and the shield wall solidified. But not one gladius snaked from between the shields to bite an Empire mercenary.

  The Qart Hadasht ranks compressed against the Legion shields. A few Legionaries were moved back by the weight. Pontus, Milon, and Alerio leaped into the gaps and fought back the mercenaries until the line reformed. Yet, the Legion blades remained idle.

  After closing a third breach, Optio Pontus, breathing heavily, called to Alerio.

  “Is it time, sir?” the senior NCO inquired.