Infinite Courage Read online

  “What’s the other thing, Tesserarius?”

  “At the end of every fight, I like a snack,” Alerio replied. “Apple cakes, meat on a stick, and, especially, those little meat pies. Make sure I have one when you report on how fast the tales are spreading.”

  “What tales, Corporal?” the Private inquired. “I haven’t heard any yet.”

  “If there aren’t any after the first part of the fight, my entire scheme goes up in flames,” Alerio offered. “Let’s hope there are rumors. The uglier the better.”

  Then Alerio whispered into Lance Corporal Caudini’s ear before marching to the tunnel and the arena. He left the squad leader and the runner standing with puzzled expressions on their faces.

  ***

  The Sergeant officiating the match held up his arms, turned his face to the stands as if looking at everyone in the forum, and shouted, “Fight!”

  His arms dropped and the Optio ran for the edge of the sand.

  Thinking he’d have a moment to set, Alerio inhaled and prepared to adjust his feet. Suddenly, he spun off to the side, almost losing his balance. Only experience and a rapid shuffling of his feet allowed Alerio to stay upright.

  Recultus charged by him and began a tight turn for another attack. Howls of pleasure echoed around the forum. It seemed the quick assault was Recultus’ signature move and expected by the official and the crowd.

  ‘Like an angry bull,’ Alerio thought as he waved his gladius to get the big Legionary’s attention. It worked. Recultus dipped his left shoulder and blindly attacked.

  Their shields collided and from the initial impact, Alerio gained an appreciation for Recultus’ shield work. The NCO was one of the strongest men Alerio had ever faced.

  Rolling his shield off to the side, Alerio used the last contact between the edges to go into a power rotation. Combining the push off from the shield and a kick out with his left leg, Alerio whipped around. Halfway through the rotation., he planted a foot and stopped.

  Reaching out with his gladius, Alerio slammed the blade into the back of Recultus’ helmet. Realizing his attack failed and his opponent had gotten behind him, Recultus moved off, came about kicking up sand as he dug in for another charge.

  “Recultus. Pay attention for a heartbeat,” suggested Alerio. “My name is Alerio Sisera.”

  “I never bother learning the names of first-round losers,” he boasted. “I leave that for the medics.”

  “If you must, come on. But you should know, I’m going to hurt you,” warned Alerio.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Recultus bragged. “I give the pain.”

  Solid legs, thick back, and heavy arms, there seemed no weakness in the powerful Legionary. Recultus shuffled forward, tracking Corporal Sisera with his shield, and preparing for a knockdown thrust.

  Alerio’s stood with his body rigid. Only his head moved. It dipped from side to side as if he was idly stretching his neck muscles instead of bracing for a hammering. While not threatening, the neck motions gave his attacker pause.

  In a gladius and shield fight, one clue for where your opponent planned to move was the angle of his head and direction indicated by his eyes. Alerio’s rocking masked any forewarning of his planned defense or next move.

  Recultus judged the distance and pulled back the shield as if winding up a ballista. Then, he stepped forward sharply and, using the momentum, drove the shield at his rival.

  At the pullback, Alerio rested the bottom of his shield on the arch of his right foot and removed his hand from the cross grip. When Recultus thrust forward, Alerio kicked his shield into the air and dramatically leaned back. Catching it with both hands, he threw the shield so the iron band slid over Recultus’ shield and towards his face through the opening in the Legionary’s helmet.

  The iron band heading for his eyes caused Recultus to flinch back which halted his charge. His momentum stopped, Recultus raised his shield, ducked down, and stepped backward.

  Something caught between his legs. His knees were forced into a painful twist and his legs, as if a master baker were making braided bread, spiraled and tangled. The big fighter fell onto his left side.

  After throwing the shield, Alerio dropped to his belly and crawled under Recultus’ shield. He thrust his gladius between the big man’s legs and torqued it hard to the left.

  Steel beats muscles and bone. Recultus toppled over, falling onto his shield. Before he recovered, Alerio jerked the blade free, swung it up and over, and slammed the pommel into the man’s helmet.

  “Stay down,” warned Alerio as he climbed onto the big man. While wrapping his arm protectively across Recultus’ shoulders, he raised the gladius and hammered the helmet again. “The Goddess is near and she is demanding a death. Stay down and pray she overlooks you.”

  Even in Recultus’ dazed state, the mention of a Goddess seeking vengeance or punishment filtered into his brain and he remained on the ground.

  ***

  The forum exploded in roars and boos when the crowd’s favorite was upended. They expected Recultus to throw off his opponent and come up fighting. But the only figure to rise was A. Sisera. And his antics were confusing at first.

  Ripping off his helmet, Sisera glanced up and over his right shoulder. Then his left hand gripped his gladius arm and he seemed to be fighting with himself. While he struggled to control the arm, he shouted over his shoulder as if arguing with someone or something floating above him.

  During the struggle with himself, Alerio paused and waved briefly at the tunnel entrance. Then he went back to the gyrations and speaking to the empty air.

  Far from the sand and watching with a group of NCO friends, the Optio referee was out of position. In the moments before the Sergeant realized the danger, Sisera circled the huddled Recultus. Clutching the gladius arm, A. Sisera seemed to be holding it back, preventing the blade from sticking the downed man. The official charged towards the arena hoping to prevent a death or serious injury.

  As the Optio raced towards the combatants, a Lance Corporal sprinted from the tunnel. Clutched between the squad leader’s outstretched arms was a scrawny chicken.

  “Sisera, step back,” the Sergeant bellowed over the distance. “Back away, now.”

  As if convulsing, Alerio’s head jerked from facing over his shoulder to down at Recultus. Then it popped up and his wide opened eyes locked momentarily on the running official. Finally, his head snapped up and Alerio looked over his shoulder.

  “Goddess Nenia. No one dies today,” Sisera pleaded. “Nenia Dea, I beg of you.”

  Lance Corporal Caudini leaped Recultus’ form, dropped to one knee, and held the chicken up as if presenting the bird to Alerio’s back. Without looking, Corporal Sisera cycled his gladius down and under his shoulder. It swept by his thigh and rose, unguided, behind his back.

  The blade ripped through the bird and Lance Corporal Caudini parted his arm. In each hand, he held half of the neatly cleaved chicken. Shocked by the swiftness of the blade as it passed between his hands, the squad leader spun on his knee, staggered to his feet, and ran stumbling for the tunnel.

  Alerio fell to his knees with his arms outstretched to the sky and his head thrown back.

  “Recultus. It’s safe to move,” he advised the big Legionary. “The Goddess is appeased.”

  ***

  On one knee, the fighter studied Alerio before asking, “Who are you?”

  The Optio slid to a stop, glanced at the uninjured Recultus and Sisera in the submissive pose, and asked the same question, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Alerio Sisera and I am beloved of the Goddess Nenia,” Alerio explained while still on his knees. “Last year in Messina, I had the honor of washing the dying and singing for the Goddess to free the Legionnaires from their ruined bodies.”

  “Death Caller,” the Optio whispered.

  “Not a name I embrace,” Alerio informed the NCO.

  “You’re Death Caller?” babbled Recultus. “I did battle with Death Caller and
survived?”

  “Hold on Recultus,” instructed the Sergeant. “This fight isn’t over. You may continue.”

  “Optio. When I was on the ground, I could feel Sisera’s hot breath on my cheek warning me to stay down,” Recultus related. “But there was something else. A cold pouring over his shoulder as if the Goddess of Death was looking down at me. This fight is over and I need to find a temple and make an offering to my household God for deliverance.”

  “In that case, stand Corporal Alerio Sisera,” ordered the Optio. Alerio stood. The NCO waved his arms over his head to get the spectator’s attention. Then he brought both arms down and pointed them at Alerio. “The winner of the first fight in the first round, Alerio Sisera, also known as Death Caller.”

  Pandemonium broke out at the ground level seating. Then as the Optio’s words were passed up the stands, mayhem erupted on each tier as they heard the nickname. Many had no idea of the meaning. But the veterans from Messina soon told the story of a tough Legionary priest, his long hours of singing, and his gentle care of the fatally wounded.

  Alerio bowed to the crowd and marched to the tunnel. He hoped the runner brought back gossip and one of those tasty meat pies. And that Caudini had an accounting report from the Legionaries placing the bets.

  ***

  Lance Corporal Apulia Frentani squatted by the pot of boiling stew. One of the Legionaries from his 8th Squad had ventured away from the armory area and returned with slabs of salted pork. The aroma of boiling meat and vegetables carried across the temporary camp making the waiting squads hungry.

  “So far, I don’t see any sign of the armorers leaving, do you?” inquired Aternus from the 7th squad.

  “Nope. I guess we’ll have a good meal and head back,” Frentani replied. He dipped a ladle into the pot, lifted out a chunk of pork, and inspected it. Before dropping it back into the stew, he added. “Almost done.”

  “What I don’t understand is why Corporal Sisera thought they would desert the armory.”

  “Wishful thinking?”

  “I’m hungry,” Aternus announced. “I’m getting a bowl.”

  While the squad leader marched to one of the wagons, a runner pounded down the street. Without breaking stride, he ducked into the armory and vanished inside. Moments later, he appeared and sprinted down the street towards a group of supply tents.

  Decanus Aternus had a bowl in hand and was about to return to one of the stew pots when armorers began rushing out of the armory. The ringing of hammers on steel creased and the rhythmic breathing of the bellows stopped. Metalworkers, leatherworkers, and the men who beat armor into shape left the armory and headed for the forum. The last man out tied the door flaps together before jogging to catch up with his companions.

  “What just happened?” asked Aternus while reaching for the ladle.

  “We just received our signal,” Lance Corporal Pentri Umbria advised. Then he kicked over the pot spilling delicious stew on the ground and shouted. “We have an opportunity, people. Let’s not waste it.”

  Frentani ran to the entrance of the Armory and began untying the flaps. Staged behind him were most of the Legionaries from the squads. Those not in line were at the wagons unloading sacks of vegetables.

  “I really wanted a taste of that stew,” complained Aternus.

  “Lance Corporal. We’ve got a shopping list to fill,” a Legionary pointed out. “And our day at the market needs to end quickly and we need to be on the way back to the Century before the shopkeepers return.”

  Frentani shouted once the flaps were free, “Done. Go, go, go.”

  The squads leaped through the entrance and began gathering new gladii and armor pieces, and shields. Soon one wagon was filled and, as they raced back to the armory to get more, the men assigned to the wagons covered the stolen gear with sacks of vegetables.

  ***

  “Lance Corporal Caudini, what news?” Alerio inquired as he approached his fighter’s rest area.

  Telesia Caudini sat on a straw bale with his head hanging between his knees.

  “Caudini, talk to me,” demanded Alerio when the Decanus from 5th squad didn’t respond. “What is the count from the betting booths and the gossip?”

  Telesia raised his head and Alerio could see his face was pale and his eyes were enlarged.

  “You sliced that chicken from between my hands,” Caudini gasped.

  “It was a nice piece of blade work,” Alerio offered. “I’d think you would appreciate the skill.”

  “That wasn’t skill. You didn’t even look where you swung,” Caudini pointed out. “It was as if your blade was guided by another’s hand, Death Caller.”

  “Don’t you start. It’s a nickname. A title forced on me that I hope to use to help the Century,” Alerio explained.

  The runner came from between other fighter’s areas. Gripped in his hand was a large meat pie.

  “Finally, something to celebrate,” Alerio exclaimed as he focused on the food. “Give that to me and a report, Private.”

  “Death Caller,” the Legionary announced while holding out the meat pie as if afraid to get too close to his Corporal. “Messengers left the stands to tell everyone in the four Legion camps that you have returned.”

  “Try calling me Tesserarius or Corporal Sisera,” ordered Alerio. “What news traveled fast?”

  “Between the Legionaries in the Central Legion who read about Death Caller and the veterans from Messina, everyone has been curious if you would show up for another campaign in Sicilia,” the runner described. “At first, when you began struggling with the Goddess, we couldn’t figure what you were doing. Then, when you sacrificed the chicken and dropped to your knees, we understood. You were begging Nenia for Recultus’ life.”

  “A nice piece of theater, don’t you think?” Alerio suggested between bites.

  “No Corporal Sisera. In the dust, we saw a shape over your right shoulder,” the Private exclaimed. “We all saw the Goddess.”

  “We fought on sand, there was no cloud of dust,” Alerio corrected.

  “Of course not, Corporal,” the Private assured him as he edged away.

  Before Alerio could question him more about the shadow over his shoulder, the three Privates charged with placing the bets strolled to the rest area.

  “Hades, Corporal, no one placed any coins on you,” one announced. “When Recultus walked off the sand, we collected twenty to one.”

  “The next fight won’t pay nearly as well,” another of the men charged with placing the bets declared. “But they put Hiematus in the first round. Probably to make an interesting fight for Recultus in the second round.”

  “But you’ll be facing him,” the third better informed Alerio. “Hiematus is a hammer. Weak on shield work because he depends on beating his opponents into the sand with his gladius. If you can beat him, we can make better coins on side bets than going through the gambling tents.”

  “We don’t have time for you three to be chasing down winnings,” Alerio warned. “Give the profits to Lance Corporal Caudini and go see about making us some more. And for your information, once I beat Hiematus, we need to leave, fast.

  “We’ll be ready,” the first one assured him.

  Caudini took the coins, placed them in a pouch, and walked to Alerio.

  “I sent the runner to check on the armory,” he said shaking off the shock from before. “Make the next one quick, Tesserarius. Because shortly, we’ll have every staff officer in the Legions after us.”

  “Not after us, Lance Corporal,” Alerio corrected as he took the last bite of meat pie. “They’ll be searching for people with extra Legion gear.”

  “I wish I had your confidence,” commented Caudini.

  “It’s not confidence Decanus,” Alerio informed him.

  From the arena inside the forum, a voice called out, “Second round. Sisera and Hiematus, report to the sand.”

  “It’s fatalism,” Aleris suggested while picking up his shield. As he walked to the tunnel, h
e added. “The result of doing nothing is worse than getting caught doing something wrong.”

  The Squad Leader was confused. Paying for new armor would hurt the Legionaries purse but, it was only money. He didn’t realize his Tesserarius was facing a death sentence for theft from the Century’s funds.

  Chapter 11 – Fight and Flight

  Hiematus lacked the stout build of Recultus. Instead of a thick waist and legs, the Legionary carried his muscles across wide shoulders.

  “I saw the Goddess fiasco you pulled,” he boasted while twirling his gladius. “That merda isn’t going to work on me, Sisera. You’ll be eating sand before your first prayer.”

  “I am so glad to hear that, Hiematus,” Alerio assured him. The Corporal’s gladius rested in its sheath and he waved his empty right hand around as if this was a lighthearted conversation and not a prelude to a fight. “Because with skinny legs like yours, I was worried you might not make it across the arena.”

  Hiematus jumped from one side of the sand to the other while swinging his gladius overhead and bringing it down towards Alerio’s head.

  Sisera’s shield shifted at the last instant and he managed to stop the blade. Stepping back and to the side, Alerio peered around the band as if afraid to look.

  “That’s a powerful whack you have there,” he observed while shaking his shield to loosen his left arm after the heavy blow. “You must get it from your mother.”

  “From my what?” demanded Hiematus.

  “Your mother,” repeated Alerio. “She must be great on wash day with a slapping motion like yours. Help her scrub clothing against rocks when you were growing up, did you?”

  “Are you calling me a washerwoman?”

  “Oh, oh, I see the confusion,” Alerio explained. “I simply observed that you have a powerful slap for a washerwoman.”

  Hiematus leaped at his adversary and struck the shield six quick blows. Sisera staggered back under the assault. Stumbling to the side as if injured, he stopped and swayed on his feet.

  “Yield now and spare yourself the agony,” suggested Hiematus.