Uncertain Honor Page 21

  “Good afternoon, sir,” a groom greeted Alerio. “I’ll water and feed your horse. Does he have a name, sir?”

  After being ignored by the messmen, the pandering from the cavalry servant seemed excessive. But Alerio remembered his position as a Battle Commander, the unit he was visiting, and accepted the treatment.

  “His name is Phobos, and he’s temperamental,” Alerio warned.

  “Yes, sir, no problem,” the groom stated. He reached into a pouch and pulled out an apple while taking the reins. The stallion started to rear back, but the handler took a bite and held the raw fruit under Phobos’ nose. “He is a fine warhorse, Colonel. You’ll find Tribune Colonna in the duty tent.”

  Nuzzling the pouch for another apple, Phobos walked calmly away with the handler. While marveling at the behavior of the fearsome horse, Alerio strolled to the tent with the family decals posted at the entrance.

  ***

  Even though not stifled with smoke for atmosphere like the combat officer’s mess, the ambiance in the mounted unit’s office was apparent. Polished boards stretched beyond a mud platform. Heavy furniture, obviously chosen for its ability to handle traveling, created a combined office and lounge. Several cavalrymen in slippers reclined while sipping beverages. Spotting a single man working in the office area, Alerio started towards him.

  “Boots, sir,” a tall man with a pronounced nose called from his couch. “The flooring is cedar imported from Asia Minor. While my man keeps it shiny, sanding out hobnail scuffs is a bit much even for him.”

  Alerio dropped onto a bench beside the mud platform and unlaced his boots. As the second one came off, a youth dashed from behind a curtain, dropped to his knees, and slid a pair of slippers on Alerio’s feet.

  “Isn’t that better,” the reclining man declared.

  “Yes,” Alerio replied. He marched to the desk feeling the sensation of soft material gliding over the polished decking. At the desk, he introduced himself. “Tribune Colonna. I am Colonel Sisera.”

  The man at the desk jerked as if startled to find Alerio staring at him. He put down his pen and bowed his head in greeting. Then, he bent sideways and looked around Alerio.

  “Master Colonna,” he called across the room. “Colonel Sisera is here to see you.”

  Alerio spun to the cavalrymen who were grinning at him.

  “Oh, that is rich,” the tall man announced. “I am Ostentus Colonna, Tribune of Horse. Come take a couch and have a glass of wine, Colonel.”

  Alerio wanted to be angry and snatch the arrogant Tribune off the couch and physically teach him a lesson in Legion discipline. But he thought back nine years to the hills of Volsinii on the Tiber River.

  Consul Quintus Gurges ordered an attack on the rebellious city. While his maniples fought up the hillside, Insubri warriors on their tough mountain ponies attacked the rear of the Legion. General Gurges was killed, and the remnants of his Legion took shelter in their marching camp. To this day, Alerio shivered when thinking about guarding a young Tribune who carried messages to Rome about the defeat and the need for a relief force.

  The recollection brought unpleasant memories but that wasn’t on Alerio’s mind. It had been suggested that General Gurges, to save coins, didn’t take enough cavalry when he marched on Volsinii. Right or wrong, the Legion lacked the cavalry to fend off the mounted Insubri warriors. Colonel Sisera would not anger the Tribune and risk losing the three hundred horsemen because his feelings were hurt.

  “An excellent idea,” Alerio responded.

  A servant appeared with a glass of wine. Alerio took it and sat on a couch.

  “What can the cavalry of Legion North do for you?” Colonna asked.

  Alerio pulled out the assignment scroll and passed it to the Tribune. After that, he leaned back and sipped on the wine waiting for the reaction. It wasn’t what he expected.

  “Everybody out,” the Tribune ordered.

  He stood and began pacing in circles as if he was a caged animal. Emptying the tent took long moments as the horsemen were delayed by the need to lace up their boots. Finally, Colonna and Sisera had the tent to themselves.

  Alerio remained silent the entire time. As he had been taught, when the situation had unknown elements, let the other guy talk first. Wait because he will ramble on until you have the whole story.

  “I can’t,” Ostentus Colonna complained. He continued to walk in circles.

  Alerio took a drink, rested the glass on his thigh, and waited.

  “It’s just too much,” Colonna whined. “You can’t expect us to come up with that amount each month. It’s ridiculous.”

  Grinding his teeth to keep from asking, Alerio tilted the glass in Colonna’s direction, sipped, and waited.

  “I understand the protection and we appreciate it,” Colonna exclaimed. “But really, it was set up during training. I realize as the new Colonel, you’ll want to renegotiate.”

  Bursting with curiosity, Alerio asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “The monthly stipend to be attached to Legion North,” the Tribune answered. “You know to stay out of the fighting.”

  “There is no way to stay out of the fighting,” Alerio stated. “But let me understand. You were told North wouldn’t be in the assault on the Empire’s Capital?”

  “That’s correct, Colonel. North is to be held in reserve to protect Consul Longus,” Colonna described. “It’s why the Legion was waved off from the beach landing. Battle Commander Haedulus didn’t want to risk his infantry.”

  Alerio assumed the infantry transports were delayed by the tide while the Marines fought and died on the beach. Now he learned Longus Legion North had been assigned to the assault but had turned back.

  “Tribune Colonna, I have good news and bad news,” Alerio ventured. He tipped the glass and dumped the wine on the polished floor. “You can keep your stipend. I don’t require a bribe. In other news, you and your prissy horsemen need to come to the realization that you are going to fight. Or I’ll crucify you and work my way down your chain of command until I find an officer who will.”

  Chapter 24 – Account Rebalance

  Alerio nudged Phobos away from the cavalry area. He wanted to be mad and lash out at someone about the beach landing. But sticking to the mantra of never allowing emotion to cloud his judgement, Alerio focused on current issues. Someone had pocketed coins meant for the infantrymen’s supplies while collecting payments from the cavalrymen to be attached to a reserve Legion.

  He could end those issues today. But he wasn’t sure about repairing the damage. When Consul Regulus suggested sending Colonel Haedulus and Consul Longus away quickly, Alerio had agreed. A clean sweep to prevent loyalists from conspiring against a new Colonel seemed to be a good idea. At the time, Alerio didn’t know about the crimes against the Legion. A public trial would have helped with the healing. Regrettably, the offenders were already at Sicilia and beyond his reach.

  “Come on Phobos, let’s see what other phenomena Legion North holds,” he commented while urging the horse in the direction of the main gate.

  Picking up on Alerio’s agitated mood, Phobos reacted. He raced from the cavalry area and, moments later, thundered across the ramp. The stallion and rider galloped by the sentry, shot out of the Legion marching camp, and flew over the trail.

  Phobos ran for an eighth of a mile before Alerio guided him off the main road. Ahead were rows of tents. Unlike the Legion camp, this one had a simple fence of posts and branches for a barrier. While the auxiliary camp didn’t have the fortifications of the Legion’s stockade, it was clean and neatly laid out.

  “Can I help you, sir?” a gate guard inquired.

  While his posture and voice were relaxed, the spear tip was not quite pointed at Alerio’s chest. But it wasn’t offline by much.

  “Good challenge,” he complimented the sentry. “I’m Colonel Sisera. Where can I find Senior Centurion Keoki?”

  “Sir, the Centurion is in the command tent,” the light infantryman re
sponded.

  The spear moved aside and Alerio used knee pressure to put Phobos in motion. As they walked through the encampment for the eight hundred skirmishers of Legion North, Alerio noted training areas beyond the tents. Groups of Velites threw javelins, jumped, wrestled, ran races, and performed shield drills. In general, the activities resembled a well-run Legion camp. Except this one was outside the stockade walls and Alerio wanted to know why.

  ***

  Stark and efficient, the inside of the light infantry command tent had a packed gravel floor with two camp tables, two chairs, and a wooden bench. Alerio immediately appreciated the no nonsense environment.

  “Good morning Sergeant, I’m Alerio Sisera,” he greeted a duty NCO. “Where can I find Senior Centurion Grear Keoki?”

  “Good afternoon, Colonel. Senior Centurion Keoki stepped out for a moment,” the Optio responded. “He should be back shortly. Would you like a refreshment?”

  Alerio glanced around the room. There were no pitchers or matched sets of mugs carefully displayed on serving tables. Seeing the puzzled look on his face, the NCO held up a wineskin.

  “It’s good Greek wine, sir,” the Sergeant assured him.

  “Thank you for the offer, maybe later,” Alerio declined.

  The back flap of the tent flew open and a squat Centurion with blond hair and thick arms strutted through. In his hands was a piece of parchment which he shook as if trying to rearrange a collection of charcoal lines.

  “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. But this looks like Eris had a hand in drawing it,” the man grumbled while studying the map.

  Although mentioning the Greek God of Discord and Chaos seemed excessive, Alerio understood the essence of the remark.

  “May I,” he asked while holding out an arm.

  The map was thrust into his hand.

  “Tell me those lines mean anything,” the blond challenged while poking a finger at the map, “and I’ll eat the parchment.”

  “You and Centurion Palle will get along great,” Alerio remarked as he looked over the map. “I see your problem.”

  Alerio went to the empty desk and spread the parchment over the top. With a piece of charcoal, he extended several lines, completed circles and, using his hand, erased a few odd marks and errant strokes. When done, he stood straight and turned around.

  Both the officer and the NCO stood braced and saluting.

  “Colonel Sisera, may I introduce you to Senior Centurion Grear Keoki,” the NCO announced.

  “Sir, I didn’t see the shoulder scarf,” the Senior Centurion apologized.

  “If I wanted ceremony, I would have brought priests to throw palm branches at my feet,” Alerio commented. He held out the map. “Does this make sense? And where is this?”

  “It’s supposed to depict the features around an entrance to a pass through the mountains. It’s located about fifteen miles from…” the Centurion stopped talking and ogled the map. “This is what I remember, sir. How did you know? Have you been there?”

  “Who drew that?” Alerio questioned. “The map isn’t signed.”

  “One of my officers,” Grear replied. “I’m afraid while Centurion Levius is a competent leader of light infantrymen, he has no artistic talent.”

  “He caught the essence of the pass with the drawing,” Alerio noted. “But the Legion must have a cartographer on staff. Why not take him if you’re scouting routes?”

  The Optio dropped into his seat and got very busy reading reports. Grear Keoki’s cheeks reddened and bulged from mouth pressure. The Senior Centurion seemed on the verge of either exploding or unloading.

  Doing neither, he asked, “Sir, who are you?”

  Alerio handed him the scroll and waited. Keoki read it, and moments later, handed it back.

  “I’ll be in the camp if you need me,” Grear Keoki told the duty Sergeant before saying to Alerio. “Walk with me, Colonel.”

  The two officers stepped into the sunlight. Grear took a deep breath and turned right, heading for the training fields. Alerio followed.

  ***

  “You’ve noticed I don’t allow my camp to be inside the stockade,” Keoki began. “Mostly because I like to run my own affairs and not suffer useless meddling by the Battle Commander.”

  They strolled along a lane lined with neat rows of tents. At each, a single man stood watch while sewing, mending, or polishing. The nod to theft prevention kept feuds between squads from developing. Alerio appreciated a commander who understood the necessity of keeping a guard in place. But even that practice didn’t excuse insubordination.

  “Do you have a problem with authority?” Alerio questioned the Senior Centurion.

  “Authority, no. Ineffective interference and cowardice, yes, sir,” Keoki exclaimed without a hint of reserve. “I don’t know you. But if you plan to hold the Legion in reserve, I’d like to be transferred to Legion East.”

  “Why East?” Alerio asked.

  “Because when the beach looked lost, the Senior Tribunes almost came to blows with Colonel Ferenc,” he described.

  “Because he ordered them to cover for the North?” Alerio inquired.

  “No sir. The flank officer both wanted to get into the battle but there wasn’t room for two transports,” the Centurion of Skirmishers related. “They were willing to fight for the privilege of landing their Centuries.”

  “Like you, I’m a fan of Legion East,” Alerio remarked. “But you’ll want to stay with North because we’ll no longer avoid fights. Now, tell me about the map?”

  “You haven’t met your cartographer,” Keoki shrugged and looked away at the training fields. With his teeth clenched, he said. “If you want to sit for a portrait, Centurion Lophos is your man. But if you need him to travel farther than the staff mess, you better bring a chariot.”

  “Did his physical limitations make him unavailable for your patrol?” Alerio questioned.

  “It wasn’t a patrol, Colonel,” Keoki answered. “The Century was foraging.”

  “I was told the coast is bountiful,” Alerio submitted.

  “It is or rather was,” Keoki stated. “But Legion North has stripped every village and farming community of livestock and grain. We need to find new sources of food.”

  An image of the expanding supply depot in Kelibia flashed through Alerio’s mind. All the leather, dried meat, and grain stored there had come from ravishing and depleting the land. Once the Legions made a providence of Qart Hadasht territory, the Senate of the Republic would rule over a starving populace.

  Everywhere Alerio had gone as a new Battle Commander, he bumped against immoral, if not illegal acts. Yet the commanders of Legion North had gotten away with the misdeeds for months. Alerio decided to change subjects rather than dwell on problems he needed time to solve.

  “We can’t defend our zone from here. I’m moving the camp to the other side of the lake and bringing supplies in from the depot at Kelibia,” Alerio told him. “I want your skirmishers inside the stockade.”

  “No disrespect, sir. But how do I know you’re being honest?”

  “Four years ago, at Palermo, auxiliary elements of the light infantry had a disagreement with Legion command. They camped outside the stockade,” Alerio related. “Qart Hadasht General Hamilcar swept in, ignored the marching camp, and murdered five thousand light infantrymen and auxiliary troops. For that, his mercenaries named him the Elephant’s Trunk. And it’s why I want your Centuries inside the compound. As far as trusting me. I was on the beach with the Marines when the infantrymen from Legion East landed. As much as I like a good fight, I like sleeping and knowing the men under my command are safe at night.”

  Grear Keoki gazed at the practice fields letting his face soften while he thought. In the distance, a skirmisher kicked the legs out from under another light infantryman. Being down, Greer expected to see him plummeted by the shield. Instead, the man kicked with both feet and launched the aggressive skirmisher into the air.

  “Sleeping safe at night, I can w
ork with that, sir,” Senior Centurion Keoki acknowledged. “Your light infantry will move into the new stockade.”

  They walked back to Phobos and exchanged salutes. When Alerio rode through the gate, Grear Keoki was still watching his new Battle Commander. After a few moments, he nodded his approval before heading back to his command tent.

  “How was he, sir?” the Optio asked.

  “Colonel Sisera is crazy,” Keoki replied. “He was on the beach with the Marines.”

  “Why would any staff officer do that, sir?” the NCO questioned.

  “I told you, he’s crazy,” Keoki repeated. He sat at his desk and admired the map. “Thou, for a Colonel, he draws a nice map. I wish I had thought to have him sign it.”

  “Maybe you can ask him later, sir,” the NCO suggested.

  ***

  At the Legion stockade, Phobos reached the end of the road. As soon as his hoofs touched the ramp that bridged the defensive trench, a sentry stepped into the center of the boards. He leveled his spear, but out of nervousness, the gate guard failed to identify the rider.

  “Sorry, sir,” the Legionary directed, using the title because anyone riding a horse was most likely a nobleman or an officer. “The gate is closed by order of Senior Centurion Agoston. Nobody in or out until he, or Jupiter himself, issues orders to the contrary, sir.”

  Determined to follow his own instructions, Alerio dismounted and leaned against Phobos. In the distance, he could see men with shields and other Legionary equipment walking away from the Legion command area. Optios and Centurions lined the street to keep them moving.

  The Legion’s First Centurion didn’t waste time. By the looks of the situation, he had dismissed the current First Century and was dispersing the Legionaries to veteran Centuries. Now, the only remnant of the thug Century was their NCO and the detachment being held in Kelibia. While the Legionaries would be absorbed into line Centuries, Alerio would have to decide the fate of Optio Donatas. His thoughts ended when a disturbance came from deeper in the camp.