Muted Implications (Clay Warrior Stories Book 12) Page 7

  Alerio’s right leg snaked out and hooked around the NCO’s. With the NCO’s left heel trapped, the Centurion pushed and tripped the Sergeant. Before Dactyli realized it was an attack, the point of a Legion pugio poked him in the neck.

  “My fault, Optio,” Alerio advised. “I failed to introduce myself properly. I am Centurion Sisera.”

  “I know that, sir,” the NCO responded.

  “The ‘sir’ is a good start. However, it is not enough to show me that you are worthy of your rank,” Alerio stated. “As I was saying. I am Centurion Sisera, Legion Raider, combat rowing instructor, infantry officer, holder of two navel crown awards, and a Legion and fleet weapons’ instructor.”

  The NCO realized that he had been listening to the Junior Tribune instead of doing his own research. And he was in big trouble.

  “Sir, I apologize,” he uttered.

  “Silence,” Alerio directed. “I am trying to decide if you would be useful to me here. Or if I should send you back to the Tribune as a message. You can travel in the wagon with Lieutenant Opsis.”

  “Sir, he is a medical evacuee,” Dactyli pointed out to Alerio. “I am not injured…”

  Then it dawned on the Legion NCO that an angry infantry officer held a dagger at his throat. In a combat zone, and the mountain pass certainly qualified, a Centurion had the right to disburse summary judgements up to and including capital punishment.

  “Centurion Sisera. You need an NCO who understands a defensive line to assist you,” Dactyli stammered. “I can do that for you, sir.”

  Sixty-five spearmen jogged by the two Legionaries. While they caught a quick glance of the pair, the thirty-five assigned to the right flank stopped and stood gawking at the dagger hovering inches from the NCO’s neck.

  “You make me question your loyalty to the Republic, the Legion, or me,” Alerio threatened, “and I will gut you. Then I will prepare a meal, cook it, and eat slowly while watching you die.”

  “Centurion Sisera. You will not have reason to question me again,” Dactyli reassured him. Softly, so his voice did not carry to the spearmen, he added. “I understand. We do not teach Legion tactics to potential enemies.”

  “March them to the right flank and put them in two ranks,” Alerio ordered. He stood, sheathed the dagger, and strolled away to change out of the furs and leather clothing.

  The three and a half squads of Echetla spearmen felt embarrassed for the Optio. He seemed to be a pleasant man and they had no idea how he could recover his self-respect after being tossed to the ground by the Centurion.

  “I need two ranks on the right,” Dactyli bellowed as he came off the ground. “If I have to ask twice, some of you will have the imprint of a large hobnailed boot on your cūlī.”

  Thoughts of the NCO being humiliated vanished. All the spearmen could think about was getting into formation and avoiding the wrath of the Legion Optio.

  What the Echetla soldiers did not realize was the ethos of the two men. Though they disagreed, they both believed in constant discipline, pride, and devotion to total victory. For the past two hundred fifty-one years, since the founding of the Republic, those elements combined to form the Way of the Legion. And ‘the way’ was accepted and taken to heart by Centurions, NCOs, and Legionaries.

  Dactyli was not embarrassed because the Optio had a job to do. And his feelings were focused on doing his best and not on the past.

  ***

  “Cluster around,” Alerio directed the three and a half squads.

  The Optio had spent time talking the spearmen through some basic commands. Sharp execution was not the goal. The goal was to teach some soldiers to act quickly and be examples for the slow learners.

  During the NCO’s lecture, Alerio dressed in his armor and red horsehair combed officer’s helmet. The red Legion cape, he slung over his shoulders. Then the Roman Centurion marched to where the Optio and the spearmen were gathered.

  “There is a question you need to answer,” Alerio announced to the group.

  The Echetla soldiers glanced at each other. For an officer to give them a say in anything was unusual.

  “What’s the question, sir?” a Rank Leader asked.

  “Lochagos, the choices are do you want to fight?” Alerio replied. “Or, do you want to repulse the mercenaries?”

  “Gross them out?” a voice in the back shouted.

  The spearmen laughed and Optio Dactyli took a menacing step towards the mouthy soldier. Alerio raised his hand to still the angry NCO.

  “That is the question, isn’t it?” Alerio confirmed. “To fight them or to wave them off. Which is it?”

  “Sir, we don’t understand what you are asking,” the Lochagos remarked. “We are on the right flank. The enemy is coming up the pass. It seems to me, or rather us, we don’t have much choice.”

  “Every man standing in a shield wall has choices,” Alerio explained. “You can fend off the enemy or you can kill him. You can hide behind your shield and poke at him with your spear, or you can step forward with a sword and gut him. But those are individual choices. I want a group decision.”

  “What is that again, sir?” the Lochagos questioned.

  “To fight the enemy, here on the flank,” Alerio clarified, “or to present such a solid wall that he fears us. In that case, the center and left flank will be punished for your decision.”

  With a signal, Alerio called the Optio to his side. The Legion officer and NCO marched several yards away.

  “Sir, I don’t know what you are asking of them?” Dactyli pleaded.

  “Republic infantrymen are committed,” Alerio described. “When they form a combat line, each Legionary knows why he is there. He understands the value of protecting the men on either side of him and taking the fight to the enemy.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Legion NCO acknowledged. “But these aren’t Legion infantrymen.”

  “Precisely. The spearmen need to tell me that they want to fight,” Alerio clarified. “It’ll make our job harder if they aren’t stalwart in their resolve.”

  “You are certainly more than an infantry officer, sir,” Dactyli complimented the Centurion. Then the Optio faced the spearmen and bellowed. “It is a simple decision. Yes, to fight. No, to cover your ugly cūlī.”

  There was shouting and angry voices from the spearmen before the Lochagos stepped forward.

  “We choose to fight,” the Rank Leader declared. “Brace.”

  The thirty-four spearmen straightened their backs, held their spears aloft, and locked their shields in place.

  “They sure appear ready to fight,” Alerio observed. “But Optio, they are going to be disappointed.”

  “How is that, sir?” the NCO questioned.

  ***

  The leading edge of the Qart Hadasht forces appeared on the wide crest of the hill. Ranks of heavy infantrymen flowed up until the western end of the mountain pass filled with two hundred mercenaries. Seeing the Echetla defenders arranged in thin ranks where the pass narrowed, the Captain of the forward Company changed his formation.

  A pair of large, almost, giant mercenaries moved to the forefront. The remainder of the Company spread out creating an arrowhead shape behind the human battering rams. They marched forward heading for the reinforced center of the Echetla line.

  From the height of his horse’s back, the Captain noted a frustrated Legion Centurion attempting to get a useless pack of spearmen into ranks. The soft spot appealed to the Empire officer’s ambition. If his Company punched through in two places, the divided Echetla defensive line would easily crumble. He would win the day allowing General Hamilcar to take control of the mountain route. And the Elephant’s Trunk was known for rewarding success handsomely.

  Pressing the advantage, the Captain peeled off a second assault element. Although it weakened his main attack force, the Empire officer was confident he could revise the tactics if the situation changed.

  Then a spear flew from the left, sailed over the heads of the infantrymen and struck the of
ficer. The iron head punched through the Captain’s armor and buried itself in his ribs. Flipping off his horse, the Empire officer tumbled to the ground.

  Even as the weakness in the Echetla line vanished, the divided Company of mercenaries continued forward on two fronts.

  ***

  Moments before, the Echetla Lieutenant from the center and the officer on the left flank, motioned frantically for the right flank to fall into a proper defensive formation. Their insistence was driven by the sloppiness of the three and half squads under the command of the Republic’s Centurion.

  “Centurion Sisera, the other Lieutenants are getting angry,” a Rank Leader mentioned to Alerio.

  “I realize that,” Alerio said. The Legion officer made a big gesture of shoving the Echetla NCO with one hand. With the other, he grabbed the man’s armor and jerked him in the opposite direction. “Not to worry, they’ll soon get busy and forget all about us.”

  To the officers and NCOs in the other positions, it appeared as if the Rank Leader was resisting the Legion officer’s directions.

  “Sir, the Qart Hadasht Captain has split his forces,” the Optio reported from behind the formation. “Just like you thought he would.”

  “One, two, three, four, five,” Alerio counted. Then he raised one arm in the air and extended the other towards a different Rank Leader. “Lochagos, toss me a spear, please.”

  From the other side of the disjointed formation, the Rank Leader heaved a spear to the Legion officer. Thinking it was another of Sisera’s ridiculous games, like playing at not forming up properly, he almost turned away after the throw. But he paused to watch and was glad he did.

  Centurion Sisera snatched the shaft out of the air with his left hand. Spinning powerfully as if he was an Olympic disc thrower, the Legion Centurion drew back the spear while twisting and coiling his limbs. Then as perfectly as a champion javelin thrower at the Delphi games, all of the torque in the Centurion’s frame transferred to the shaft as he uncoiled.

  From his left hand, the spear sailed to the Empire officer. Before the Captain fell from his horse, Alerio spun on the Echetla spearmen.

  “Optio Dactyli, let’s go to work,” Alerio bellowed. “Soldiers of Echetla, shields.”

  Centurion Sisera walked through the first rank. Behind him, the shields snapped together. At the second, the iron bands around the shields clinked against each other. For any spearman not falling in fast enough, there was a roaring Legion NCO spitting curses and hammering him into position. Once behind the third rank, Alerio about faced and examined his detachment.

  He stood to the rear in the center. A Rank Leader marched to his left and Optio Dactyli shuffled backward before falling in on his right. In front, three steady lines of spearmen presented a wall of shields to the Qart Hadasht mercenaries.

  For a moment, the other Lieutenants noticed the straight lines and uniformed shields on the right flank. Then the Empire Company hit the Echetla defensive line and they were too busy to think about the Legion officer’s unit.

  Chapter 10 – A Rogue Discovered

  The center held against the reduced pressure from the mercenary’s assault. On the left flank, they fended off the overflow and counter attacked. Both developments were possible because the fiercest fighting occurred on the right flank.

  Before the second Empire Company could reach the fighting, the forward Company, without a Captain, panicked and retreated. As in every battle, if half the men run, the other half follow. Despite the protests from their officers, the Qart Hadasht forces rushed headlong down the slope. Their disorganized flight stopped a half mile away on the lower foothills.

  The Echetla Lieutenants from the center and left flank marched to Alerio.

  “They concentrated on your position,” one offered. “I don’t know why, Centurion Sisera, but it saved the day.”

  “We simply invited them in by appearing weak,” Alerio replied. “Subterfuge works under the right circumstances.”

  “Trick or not, we are grateful,” the other officer added.

  The sounds of horses galloping from the east caught their attention. In a few heartbeats, a large calvary unit, accompanying the Echetla Commander, rode fast into the pass. Not finding a battle, the riders pulled reins and halted their mounts. While the cavalrymen sat on restless horses, the Captain slid off his and marched to the three officers.

  “Unless I am mistaken, your lines haven’t moved,” the Commander observed. “In the other pass, we had to drive two Companies of mercenaries back and down the slope. What happened here?”

  There was no question a fight had taken place. Enough wounded and dead spearmen littered the ground to attest to the fact.

  “Centurion Sisera suckered them into attacking his right flank,” a Lieutenant reported. “With the center holding, I was able to bring the left flank in and we pinched them like a pimple until they popped.”

  “Very graphic,” the Captain acknowledged. “I need to write reports to Sub Commander Ezio. Then you, Centurion Sisera, will carry them to Echetla. Along with your recommendation to bring several Centuries of Legionaries to help guard the passes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Alerio replied.

  ***

  ‘Echetla’s walls have lost some of their majesty,’ Alerio thought.

  Almost as if reading his mind, Dactyli commented, “These would be tough to breach, sir. But they don’t seem so high after you get used to them.”

  “They are high enough when trying to escape,” Alerio mentioned without thinking. He sniffed the cloth on his shoulder and glanced at his arms and legs to be sure they were free of merda.

  “Pardon, Centurion?” the Optio asked.

  “It’s nothing,” Alerio commented.

  The Centurion, the Optio, and their cavalry escort rode their mounts through the open gates. In the center of the city, they entered the military compound. While the cavalrymen went to the stables, Alerio and Dactyli entered the government building through the backdoor.

  “These are interesting, sir,” Dactyli said, indicating the small rooms off the hallway. “I wonder what they store in those?”

  “Grain probably,” Alerio responded.

  He withheld the fact that the rooms doubled as cells for government prisoners. Or that escaping a cell required annoying and overpowering an armed guard. A guard who came in to administer punishment because he was jealous of Alerio’s fine singing voice.

  They passed through a doorway in a stone barrier. On the other side, the construction smelled of fresh lumber and new stone mortar. There were no signs of the fire Alerio set during his escape.

  Further down the hallway, they located a crowded conference room. The two Legionaries entered and saluted.

  “Sir, I have dispatches from the Commander at the pass,” Alerio announced.

  “I take it we still control the high ground?” Sub Commander Ezio remarked.

  “You do sir,” Alerio reported. Then looking in the direction of Tribune Trigoni, he added. “But now General Hamilcar knows the strength of the defenders. Echetla needs Legion Centuries for reinforcements.”

  “Only until the threat ends,” City Magistrate Basil reminded the representative of the Republic.

  “Of course,” Tribune Trigoni confirmed, “once the Qart Hadasht army is driven back, the Legion will withdraw.”

  A man in the robes of a city councilman dashed through the door.

  “I apologize for being late,” Commercial Advisor Adrian begged.

  To emphasize his statement, the councilman representing Echetla’s business and mining interests bowed and acknowledged Magistrate Basil. Then he greeted Sub Commander Ezio and Tribune Trigoni. Skipping Junior Tribune Morum, Optio Dactyli and the guards, the councilman focused on Alerio and bent slightly at the waist. But his gaze never wavered from the Centurion’s face.

  “You. It’s you,” Adrian accused. “Spy. Thief. Arsonist. Murderer. Guards arrest this man.”

  Optio Dactyli reached for his gladius, no doubt inte
nding to defend the Centurion. Alerio placed a hand over his to prevent the NCO from drawing the blade.

  “Don’t,” Alerio whispered. “There is no sense in you going down with me.”

  “But Centurion Sisera, his words are insulting and slanderous,” Dactyli exclaimed.

  “They would be slanderous,” Alerio remarked as the guards approached with leveled spears, “if they weren’t true.”

  ***

  Alerio pulled down a few bags of grain and arranged them into a bench seat. The remaining sacks he used as a back rest when he sat on the bench and stretched out his legs. His boots almost touched the far wall and the door.

  The little storage room was unaffected by the fire. It still had a solid wooden door with a space below it. From outside, the sounds of two guards talking filtered in from the hallway.

  ***

  From the time they closed to door, to every instance when they opened it, there were always at least two guards. Alerio took it as a compliment. And as a bad omen for his punishment. During the second night of imprisonment, there was a disturbance outside the cell.

  “Open the door,” a voice commanded.

  “Lieutenant Opsis. The Sub Commander said no visitors for the Latian,” one of the guards rationalized.

  “I am here sweating,” Opsis explained, “in pain, and suffering from a bad leg. And you dare tell me no.”

  “But sir, the Sub Commander,” the other pleaded.

  Despite their protests, Alerio heard the locking beam being moved and lifted. The door opened.

  “Centurion Sisera, are you thirsty?” Opsis inquired as he limped into the room.

  He held out a wineskin. Alerio stood and reached for the wine. But Opsis stumbled and Alerio shifted his arm and caught the Echetla officer. Through his clothing, Alerio felt the dampness and fever of a sick man.

  “Lieutenant, you should not be out of bed,” Alerio offered while taking the wineskin and easing the Lieutenant onto the bench.

  “They needed a subterfuge,” Opsis replied.

  “Who needed?” Alerio stammered. “A what?”