Fortune Reigns Page 20

  “Centuries, standby,” shouted the most experienced Centurion. He was from the Seventh Century, First Maniple, Requiem Division and would act as the detachment’s Senior Centurion.

  Four hundred and ninety-two Legionaries and their NCOs stomped their right foot and replied, “Standing by, Centurion.”

  “Detachment, forward march,” ordered the Senior Centurion before he fell in step with his Century.

  At the front, the Fourth and Third Centuries of the Third Maniple marched over the short bridge spanning the defensive trench. Next over was the Eight Century of the First Maniple.

  “Shall we join the march?” Gaius suggested as he kneed his horse away from the Colonels’ tent. He and Alerio rode easily to a position behind the Eighth. Castor Ireneus lagged when he jerked the pack horse too hard and the animal backed away almost pulling the young Tribune from his horse. “Tribune Ireneus. Keep up.”

  Behind Gaius’ almost nonexistent command staff, eight mules, a wagon with a team of four horses, and five cavalry mounts pressed into pack duty followed. Behind the baggage, the Seventh of the First Maniple crossed the bridge.

  The other half of the skirmisher Century spread out and took up flank security. Behind them, the Seventh of the First marched across the bridge followed by the remaining fifteen cavalrymen. Last over the rough bridge was the Fifth and Sixth Centuries of the Second Maniple.

  Once the predawn disturbance of the detachment’s departure ended, the bridge planks were pulled back and Requiem Division settled down. The off-duty Legionaries went back to sleep and those on guard duty continued walking their posts.

  ***

  On the road to Echetla, the detachment began to spread out. It wasn’t the darkness or the ability of the Legionaries to maintain the stride. The issue was caused by the mules. Heavily loaded, the stubborn but sturdy pack animals set their own pace. As the sun rose, a separation became apparent. Almost as if two separate units, the detachment became divided at the center.

  “Mules and grain,” Alerio mumbled looking back.

  “What’s that?” inquired Gaius.

  “Mules and grain rule the march, sir,” Alerio explained. “When I was a lad on my father’s farm, every year a Centurion and Sergeant came to work the harvest. They taught me weapons and military tactics. And a few sayings I didn’t appreciate until we left Messina.”

  “That Corporal Sisera, is rubbish,” announced Tribune Ireneus. “It’s the command staff who rules the march.”

  “If you say so, sir,” Alerio responded.

  When the morning sun was high in the sky, three mules stopped in their tracks. Despite savage tugs from their handlers, the animals refused to budge. Soon, all the mules stopped, refusing to move.

  Tribune Claudius looked back at the sounds of men cursing. He took a long look at the pack animals and mumbled under his breath.

  “Mules and grain,” the Tribune said, then loudly. “Centurions. Rest your Centuries and post guards.”

  Gaius’ orders were passed up and down the line of march. Soon both men and mules were munching on grain. The pack animals on the raw stalks and seeds and, the Legionaries on biscuits made from water, salt, and stoneground grain.

  ***

  Three days later as the sun dropped low in the sky, the road topped a hill and the walls of Echetla came into view. Gaius and Castor rode to the front of the detachment and sat on their horses gazing at the city’s defenses. A granite stone ribbon appeared from between trees, wrapped around the sides and face of a steep grade before vanishing into the forest on the other side. The tops of buildings were visible over the wall.

  “That would be an ugly assault,” Senior Tribune Claudius observed. “I’m glad we’re here to talk.”

  “We can push on and get to the city by nightfall,” announced Castor.

  “Corporal Sisera, your thoughts?” inquired Gaius looking over his shoulder to where Alerio had been since they left the Legions.

  “Sir, a tall pedestal requires a stout base, just as a Legion needs a strong base of operations,” Alerio replied. “If you are to put on a show of force, shouldn’t it be from the ranks to the rear, sir?”

  “You’re suggesting we build a fortified camp within sight of the city walls,” scowled Castor. “Your uncouth idea will only cause suspicion and create mistrust in Echetla’s leadership.”

  “I believe the Centuries would be more impressive if they were rested and cleaned up,” commented Gaius. “Especially if the citizens of the city could see our formation. We will not approach tonight but in the daylight. Centurion, mark us a camp further into the flat.”

  The cavalry officer gave a cross chest salute and kneed his horse away from the formation. Six horsemen followed him until he sent one off towards a line of trees. Then he indicated an area and the five remaining cavalrymen dismounted. They stood back to back before pacing outward.

  “Where is the lone rider going?” inquired Castor.

  “To locate a water source, among other things,” Gaius informed the young nobleman.

  “But we carry water,” insisted Castor. Then he nudged his horse forward as if to ride off. “The cavalrymen are marking off too large an area. We should stop them and have them start over.”

  “That’s the extent of our defensive trench,” Gaius explained. “With enough room for a picket wall of spears around our tents.”

  “But, I thought we decided not to build a fortified camp,” insisted Castor. “So, we don’t offend our hosts.”

  “Junior Tribune Ireneus. Let me remind you that I make the decisions concerning this mission and this detachment,” Gaius informed the young man. “I elicit advice but, in the end, it is my choice. Why? Because the success of the mission and the lives of the men, including your life, are my responsibilities. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Senior Tribune Claudius,” Castor admitted but he glared at Gaius as if he wanted to add another thought or maybe argue.

  Unfortunately, Gaius either didn’t see him or he chose to ignore the insolent stare. Alerio noticed it but, no Corporal alive ever got between quarreling staff officers and kept his career intact.

  By nightfall, the trench was completed, the animals hobbled and the tents set up in neat Legion squares. Then, every Legionary not at a cooking fire or on guard duty or off on a water run walked to the perimeter and picked up three or more long poles. With knives or their gladius, they hacked points in one end of all the sticks.

  “Set pickets,” instructed a Centurion on one side of the camp.

  The Legionaries on that section of the trench lined up the sticks and pounded the point into the embankment of earth. As the poles were set, the line officer moved to direct the placement on the adjoining section. Once the Centurion finished circling the camp, it was ringed by solid, evenly spaced but blunt poles.

  “Sharpen them,” the Centurion directed. All the Legionaries leaned out and began hacking at the tips. Soon the camp bristled with a picket line of sharp points.

  Claudius Detachment settled in to eat and rest. Tomorrow, the small number of Centuries would attempt to show the might of the Republic to the leadership of Echetla.

  Act 6

  Chapter 21 - The Walls of Echetla

  Alerio rose before daylight and scrubbed Senior Tribune Claudius’ helmet and armor. After the outerwear was cleaned, he drew the gladius and Legion dagger and polished both. He had ground them last night and the blades were already sharp.

  “Sisera. Hand me my armor and pass the word to the Centurions,” Gaius Claudius called through the tent flap. “Officers’ meeting at daybreak.”

  “Yes sir,” Alerio replied as he stood and put the blades in their sheaths. After handing the equipment into the tent, he walked backward, passing five tents, until he reached one for a line officer. “Centurion. Senior Tribune Claudius wants an officers’ meeting at daybreak.”

  “I’ll pass the word, Sisera,” a voice from the tent responded.

  Having delivered the message, Alerio w
alked back to the Senior Tribune’s tent. He’d never taken his eyes off the structure.

  “Out wandering around, are you?” accused Castor Ireneus as he and Alerio converged at the campfire outside the Senior Tribune’s quarters. “Probably off gambling and gossiping with other lowlifes. I warned Gaius you couldn’t be trusted. Maris Eutropius, before he died, said you were a slacker and not fit to be a Legionary.”

  “Sir, I can’t help what people think or say about me,” replied Alerio as he circled the Senior Tribune’s tent.

  Castor Ireneus followed him, bending over and peering at the tent sides as if checking and questioning the thoroughness of the Corporal’s inspection. They completed the circuit and returned to the campfire.

  “Castor. Is that you?” Claudius inquired from inside.

  “Yes, Senior Tribune,” Ireneus responded.

  “Get in here and help me get dressed,” ordered Gaius.

  The Junior Tribune gave Alerio a triumphant look, marched to the tent’s entrance and vanished inside. Puzzled, Corporal Sisera began another circuit, wondering why Gaius Claudius would need help getting dressed. It never occurred to Alerio that it was the same reason for his assignment as a bodyguard.

  ***

  As Claudius wanted, the heavy infantry marched from their reinforced camp in full daylight. They proceeded in two columns until the detachment reached just over a bowshot from the gates of Echetla.

  “Parade formation,” the Senior Tribune commanded.

  “Lead Centuries, by maniple,” Centurions ordered. “Column left, March.”

  In sync, the first Legionaries at the head of each maniple made sharp left turns. Behind them, the rest of the men in those Centuries marched to the turning point and made a left face. From two long columns, the six Centuries of heavy infantrymen formed three broadly spaced lines. Their Centurions and NCOs marched to positions behind each rank.

  The field was broad and four hundred and eighty Legionaries occupied only a small portion. But, their approach hadn’t gone unnoticed. Heads appeared over the wall and people watched the Legion detachment’s precise maneuvers.

  “Rest them,” instructed the Centurions. The Legionaries lowered their heavy shields allowing the bottom edge to rest on the ground as well as the ends of their javelins.

  “Senior Tribune. The detachment is ready for inspection,” the Senior Centurion announced.

  Gaius Claudius in his dress armor rode stately to the last rank looking carefully down the lines of Legionaries. Once at the back, he rode between the ranks. After completing a ride-by of the last rank, he trotted to the next and inspected the second maniple. At the front, he rode down the line before trotting back to the front center of the formation. Junior Tribune Castor Ireneus reined in beside Gaius while Corporal Alerio Sisera stopped his horse just behind Claudius. The three sat on their mounts silently watching the gates of Echetla.

  Far behind the heavy infantry formation, the Velites spread out around the Legion camp. The skirmishers stood at their posts so they were visible from the walls of Echetla. Outside the Legion camp, eight cavalrymen sat in pairs on either side of the approach to the camp while the other twelve rode out patrolling the surrounding area.

  Gaius Claudius had his show of force from ranks to rear. Now it was up to Echetla’s leadership to send someone out to inquire why the Republic was at their gates.

  ***

  Standing in formation was boring but the Optios and Tesserarii cautioned the infantrymen about fidgeting, slouching or breaking ranks. They were under the eyes of Echetla soldiers, and being judged, they warned. At any moment, hordes of Greeks could swarm through the gates and the Legionaries would be fighting for their lives. Their only chance of survival was the solid shields of their maniple.

  Junior Tribune Ireneus heard the admonishments, glanced around at his exposed position and his stomach knotted. In his head, the gates slammed open and a wave of blades came right at the young nobleman’s face. Then, the gates did open. Realizing his worst fears had come true, Castor jerked his horse around and, as he kneed the mount away from the enemy, he screamed, “Attack. It’s an attack.”

  He reached the first maniple and the laughter of the veterans brought him out of his nightmare. Dragging the horse to a stop, he looked over his shoulder to see two armored Hoplites finish shoving open the gates. Three lines of armed Greeks marched through the opening. Not far from the gates, they turned to the right and formed three lines. When they were parallel with the detachment’s formation, the Hoplites did a left face.

  Castor rode back to rejoin the Senior Tribune. Each line he passed brought another chorus of laughter. Shamed and humiliated, Junior Tribune Ireneus fell in beside the Senior Tribune.

  “How do they look?” asked Gaius.

  “Look? I don’t. Do you mean the Greeks?” stammered Castor.

  “I assumed you went back to check on the readiness of our Legionaries,” Gaius suggested. “How do they look?”

  “Online and steady, Senior Tribune,” Ireneus reported. But, a quiver in his voice revealed his terror at the situation. Sneaking a glance over his shoulder, Castor noted that Corporal Sisera had eased his horse closer to Gaius’s mount. The tight set of his shoulders and the shifting of the bodyguard’s eyes showed that he, as well, was afraid. Boasting to cover for his true feelings, Ireneus announced. “Stand easy. We have this under control. Remember, we’re here to talk.”

  The Echetla soldiers in their Greek armor marched forward closing the distance between the opposing forces. Then they stopped, dropped the butt end of their spears on the ground, and stood perfectly still.

  “Corporal Sisera. What do you make of their formation?” Gaius inquired without looking back.

  “Sir, they have matched your formation exactly,” observed Alerio. “Although their NCOs don’t seem to know what to do with themselves. Is it possible they don’t use Sergeants or Corporals?”

  Gaius didn’t respond to Alerio’s question. Instead, he spoke to Castor.

  “Tribune Ireneus. What do you make of their formation?” he asked, again, without looking away from the enemy.

  “Anybody can see they’ve matched our formation,” blurted out Castor.

  “They have,” agreed Gaius. “Not only the formation but, the number of infantrymen, line officers, and NCOs. Except for one position.”

  “They have no battle commander,” ventured Alerio. “Sir, you have no opposing number.”

  “Which tells me, when he arrives, we’ll begin negotiations,” explained Gaius.

  A silence fell over the field. It was broken when one of the two men at the front of the Echetla formation shouted a command. Their soldiers hoisted their spears and held their shields higher.

  “Get them up,” Claudius commanded.

  The orders were passed back through the ranks and the shields and javelins lifted from the ground.

  A large man on a stallion galloped through the gates. Slowing to a trot, he, like Gaius did earlier, rode between the ranks inspecting his men.

  “He is mocking us,” accused Castor.

  “Or he is showing his presence to his soldiers,” suggested Claudius. “Keep quiet, let me do the talking. Do you understand Junior Tribune Ireneus?”

  “If I remain silent, how can I advise you?” demanded Castor.

  “Listen now. Advise me later,” urged Gaius.

  The Echetla officer finished his inspection and rode to where two men waited at the head of his formation. Together, the three came forward.

  “Do you lay siege to my city with so few?” the officer asked as he pulled up two spear-lengths from Gaius.

  “I am Senior Tribune Gaius Claudius, representative of Consul, General Appease Clodus Caudex of the Republic,” Gaius stated. “I carry an offer of trade and friendship between the citizens of my Republic and the City State of Echetla.”

  “I am Sub Commander Ezio,” the officer said. “I was hoping for a fight. How disappointing you mentioned trade and friendship. You’
ll need to speak with Magistrate Basil and the other members of the council about those things. Follow me, Senior Tribune Gaius Claudius. And bring your Lieutenants.”

  “He’s not an officer,” Castor protested while pointing at Alerio.

  Ezio had started to turn his horse but stopped.

  “You mean Alerio isn’t a Lieutenant,” Gaius spoke quickly to shut the young nobleman up. “Of course, Captain Sisera will join us. Sub Commander, please lead the way.”

  The six riders reached the gates and Gaius glanced back at the steep slope, the broad plain and his small detachment of infantrymen. As he suspected, a fight up to the walls would be difficult for an entire Legion and impossible for his small number of Legionaries.

  Gaius raised an arm and signaled for the Centuries to go back to their camp. Ezio, seeing the motion, addressed one of the men riding beside him.

  “Once the Legionaries are safely tucked in their pen,” he explained. “Pull our troops back.”

  “Yes sir,” the Lieutenant replied as he reined his horse around and trotted back to the field.

  Then they rode through the gates and into the city of Echetla.

  Chapter 22 – Words of Deceit

  Alerio peered at the one and two-story buildings. Echetla was a maze. Haphazardly built, it lacked the uniformed and ordered streets of the Capital. Also, the city had more wood construction than stone or brick and fewer finished roads. Yet the streets, both narrow and wide, bustled with citizens and tradesmen rushing about their business. One feature stood out. There seemed to be a lot of soldiers. Then he recognized the same group of soldiers a couple of blocks from when he first sighted them. He appreciated the ruse and would mention it to Tribune Claudius when he had the chance.

  The group of riders took side streets, doubled back and crossed the city several times. More tricks, Alerio thought. A building with a high, steeped roof deep in the city seemed to be getting closer no matter where they traveled. Eventually, Sub Commander Ezio guided them to the main road with stone pavers and they headed for the tall building.