Reluctant Siege

by J. Clifton Slater

  Twelve wounded Legionaries carried, or supported, seven more. It was hardly a terrifying force although those with a free hand held a gladius. The first survivors from the battlefield staggered forward moving around the dead or wounded Insubri.

  “Cimon. Drustanus. Make sure they don’t cause any more trouble,” ordered Alerio. As his pivot men ran forward to dispatch the wounded tribesmen, Alerio turned to the Legionaries beside him and those behind. “Clear the debris and reform the wedge. This isn’t over yet.”

  The wounded Legionaries struggled down the bloody lines of the wedge. Now safe from marauding bands of horsemen and with the camp in sight, they stood a little straighter and moved more quickly.

  A Sergeant with shattered pieces of armor hanging off his shoulders broke from the group and limped to Alerio.

  “What’s your name Legionary?” the NCO demanded.

  “Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera, Seventh Squad of the Forty Seventh,” Alerio reported.

  “Thank you, Sisera,” he replied before his knees gave out and the Sergeant fell to the dirt.

  Four mule handlers with a stretcher ran through the gate heading for the Sergeant. They plucked him from the ground and rushed back to the camp. As they approached, Tribune Peregrinus appeared between the gate posts.

  “Sisera. What’s his rank?” shouted the Tribune.

  “He’s a Sergeant,” Alerio yelled back.

  “NCO treatment area, over there,” Peregrinus directed the stretcher bearers. Then he glanced at Alerio. “Sisera. Do you need anything?”

  “We could use an amphora of vino. And an afternoon off to enjoy it,” Alerio called back.

  The other Legionaries guarding the gate laughed and nodded their agreement.

  “Not today, Lance Corporal,” replied Peregrinus. He pointed towards the battlefield before disappearing back into the camp.

  Alerio spun around. A quarter of a mile away, a running battle was moving slowly across the plain. While horsemen circled and fired arrows, other Insubri warriors battered the Legion shields with their long swords. In the middle of the melee, Legionaries in a fighting square traveled directly towards the defensive wedge, the gate, and the safety of the camp.

  Chapter 7 – One Man Is Indispensable

  “Seventh Squad. Fall in on me,” Alerio directed. He studied the burning wagons and the space between the flames and the gate. Then he addressed the remaining Legionaries in the wedge formation, “Put four men on each gap and another two watching their flanks.”

  “Where are we going?” Cimon inquired as he and the rest of Alerio’s squad moved up.

  “We’re forming a blocking force so the horsemen can’t cut off that unit,” Alerio replied as he pointed to the Legionaries fighting their way towards the camp.

  “One squad to block cavalry?” asked Drustanus.

  “Is that a problem, Private Drustanus?” Alerio demanded.

  “Just to be clear. You do understand what trampled means?” asked the Private.

  “Tell you what. If you get trampled to death, I’ll sacrifice a bull to the Gods for you,” promised Alerio.

  “A lot of good that will do me,” complained Drustanus. “I’ll be dead.”

  “I’m sorry you’ll miss the feast, Drustanus,” Cimon commented. “It should be a grand affair seeing as we’ll have an entire bull.”

  Alerio wiped the blade of his gladius on the sleeve of the tunic he wore under his armor. Once clean, he sheathed it and walked to a burning wagon. His squad watched as their Lance Corporal disappeared behind the wagon. Shortly after, the wagon cantered over as if a wheel had come off and Alerio emerged carrying four burning pieces of wheel.

  “By columns of twos, follow me,” announced Alerio as he swung the burning hardwood pieces while jogging away from the gate.

  The nine members of Seventh Squad, Forty Seventh Century, broke into two columns and raced to keep up with their Lance Corporal.

  ***

  Further out, the fighting square moved slowly towards the camp. Waves of Insubri riders raced across the front of the square. In their wake, Legionaries dropped out of the ranks either wounded or dead. After each pass, the leading ranks of the square thinned until Legionaries from the sides were moved to fill in for the missing men. With the sides thinning, Insubri warriors breached the formation in spots. Now small battles broke out inside the square.

  Between the fighting outside, the hand-to-hand struggles inside, and the addition of more wounded, the fighting square faltered. It slowed as attrition took a toll on the Legionaries and boosted the spirits of the Insubri.

  Colonel Pholus ran across the square and slashed a warrior who was about to behead a wounded Legionary. The Legionary struggled to his feet.

  “Can you fight?” asked the Colonel. When the man saluted and nodded his head, obviously too exhausted and weak from his wounds to speak, Pholus ordered, “Then get back in the fight.”

  With those words, the Colonel looked around for a Centurion. Not finding any, he sprinted to where a Sergeant and six men clashed with ten warriors. He took a place in the line and added his gladius to the Legion strikes. After a flurry of blade stabs and slashes, the ten warriors lay dead.

  “Sergeant. Get your men to the General,” Pholus ordered. “He’s wounded and his only protection are a couple of Tribunes.”

  “Yes, sir. What about you?” the Sergeant inquired.

  “I’ll be fine. I need to check on the…” an arrow shaft appeared in the Colonel’s throat. His eyes rolled up and a hand reached to towards the arrow. The Legion’s second in command toppled over, falling heavily to the churned-up dirt.

  ***

  Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera jogged until he determined the squad was halfway between the gate defenders and the fighting square.

  “Fall in on a single line,” he instructed.

  “The camp is behind us,” stated Private Drustanus. “And the Insubri are between us and the Legion formation. What are we going to do?”

  “Drustanus you are at the head of the column,” Alerio said. His swinging of the wooden pieces had ignited flames that leaped and smokes. “Cimon. You are at the rear of the column.”

  Then Alerio walked to the center and shoved the middle Legionaries apart. Once there was a wide gap separating the column into two distinct parts, he stepped back.

  “You men in the center are fixed. Pivots, watch for my signal,” shouted Alerio so the entire squad could hear. “When I give the word, each half swings out until we have two parallel lines facing the Insubri cavalry.”

  He motioned with the burning torches indicating the formation he wanted.

  “Then what do we do?” Drustanus asked from his position.

  “You kill Insubri,” Alerio said with a smile.

  “And how do we reach them?” Drustanus demanded.

  “They’ll come to you. Watch for my signal,” Alerio said.

  He spun around and ran ten paces. Then he stopped and waved the burning boards in the air.

  The Insubri horsemen noticed the lone Legionary standing and waving at them. Behind the mad man, a broadly spaced single line of Legionaries stood as if inviting the warriors to come and slaughter them. With the fighting square hunkered down behind their shields and not moving, the mounted tribesmen decided to shift to easier prey.

  Ponies wheeled around and the warriors shouted with delight. One pass through the exposed Legionaries and then they could get back to the bigger group. One glorious charge to brag about that night around the campfires. They kneed their ponies and galloped towards the Seventh Squad, Forty-Seventh Century, Gurges Legion.

  ***

  Alerio waited to be sure the Insubri were heading towards him. Turning to face the squad, he waved the boards and shouted, “Pivots! Wheelback!”

  The strength of the Legions was the ability to hold a line while maneuvering. With Cimon and Drustanus moving and directing the movement, the squad smoothly and quickly transformed from a single line facing north to two side by
side files. While the squad shifted, Alerio ran back and stopped three paces from the center men, now heading the files.

  Alerio positioned himself in front of the opening between the files and turned. Bearing down on him was a horde of mountain ponies and sword waving warriors.

  All the squad’s Legionaries bent their heads around watching their squad leader calmly standing and not looking up at the charging cavalry, but down at the burning boards. He lifted his wine skin and took a mouthful of vino. No one could fault him for wanting a last drink before he died. Then, their Lance Corporal spewed the mouthful of wine on the burning boards. The flames, hot and roaring on the hardwood, didn’t totally extinguish from the moisture. Where they did go out heavy smoke began to pour off the boards.

  Their squad leader waved the boards in a circle which left a cloud of smoke in the still air. Not enough to hide him but, certainly enough so every member of the squad could smell the smoke.

  ***

  Mountain ponies, while loyal to their riders, were still wild at heart. Their survival instinct strong as they were always on alert and ready to run from predators, lightning storms and fire. As they raced forward at the urging of their riders, they saw a swirling cloud. In the center of the cloud were four flames whirling around. When the smoke entered their nostrils, a primitive message streaked through their equine brains. Fire!

  Ancient impulses took over. The seven ponies headed for Alerio broke stride and charged to the sides. The shoulders of the panicked ponies slammed into mounts in full gallop. Like domino tiles falling, the ponies toppled over and soon the ground was covered by downed ponies and riders. Because all the Insubri wanted the glory of an all-out charge, those following ran into the wreckage and they toppled into the mess of ponies and warriors.

  “Seventh Squad. Forward on the double,” Alerio shouted.

  His order was echoed by Cimon and Drustanus.

  The two-files surged into the pileup reaching out with their javelins to kill and maim dazed warriors. As they moved deeper into the carnage, Alerio kept an eye on the unaffected Insubri. When the horde began to collect themselves, he shouted, “Seventh Squad. Turnabout and disengage.”

  Again, Cimon and Drustanus repeated the order and the men spun around. The files were soon out from among the ponies and wounded and dead warriors.

  “Nice trick,” Drustanus said as he passed Alerio. “What do you do for an encore?”

  Alerio, dropped the burning boards and jogged with the files.

  “I don’t have one but I don’t need one,” Alerio stated while pointing at the fighting square.

  When Seventh Squad drew off the horsemen, the fighting square began to move again. They still fought dismounted warriors but, without the cavalry hindering them, the front line found heart and marched forward.

  Another squad from the gate joined the Seventh. The combined squads jogged to the formation and formed another front line. By the time the Insubri horseman collected themselves, the leading edge of the fighting square reached the gate defenders.

  Alerio peeled away and stood to the side. His squad joined him and they watched as the wounded were carried through the gate. One of the injured stood out. Although surrounded by a half squad and a Sergeant, Alerio could clearly see the gold inlay of the General’s armor as he was carried through the gate.

  Chapter 8 – Siege of the Legion

  As the sun sank lower in the western sky, Alerio caught sight of Tribune Peregrinus. He appeared briefly between the gate posts. From an angry lad, the Tribune had aged and changed. For the time he was in view of the gate defenders, the Tribune moved nonstop. With arms waving and orders pouring from his mouth, the young nobleman directed Legionaries and handlers before strutting out of view.

  “That Tribune is favored by Zelus,” commented Drustanus.

  “He does seem to have an endless supply of energy,” added Cimon. “Obviously touched by the God.”

  “Don’t you two have anything better to do?” asked Alerio.

  “As a matter of fact, Lance Corporal Sisera, we haven’t,” Drustanus replied. “You see, we’ve been on gate duty all day.”

  “And how do you find that?” Alerio inquired.

  “Boring for the most part. If you don’t count the times our squad leader tried to kill us,” Drustanus related.

  Before Alerio could defend himself and his actions, Cimon spoke up.

  “In coming,” announced the Legionary. “Looks to be about a hundred or so Legionaries.”

  “Wedge people,” Alerio shouted as he lifted his shield and marched to the point of the vee-formation. “Looks like they have wounded. Someone alert the medics.”

  The Legionaries were still far away but moving unmolested towards the gate. Everyone on the gate detail scanned the plain searching for any sign of the Insubri. Over the last part of the day, small groups, or pairs of Legionaries, had limped in from different parts of the sloping plain. Shortly after the fighting square dissolved at the gate, the tribesmen had trotted off towards Volsinii. It didn’t mean they wouldn’t be back, it just meant they hadn’t been around to interfere with retrieving stragglers.

  “Seems as if the tribesmen have had enough for the day,” Peregrinus suggested.

  Alerio was surprised by the voice as he’d been concentrating on looking for an attack on the group. He turned to find the Tribune standing beside him. The young nobleman’s armor was caked in dried sweat, blood and covered in a layer of dirt that stuck to the liquids before they dried.

  “You look like a member of third maniple, Tribune,” Alerio observed as he indicated the grime and dirt. “Come out for a breath of fresh air?”

  Peregrinus inhaled and coughed on the lingering smoke from the wagons, the copper smell from the blood spilled, and the stink of dried sweat on the Legionaries.

  “I inspected the latrines earlier, I believe the air was fresher there,” Peregrinus commented. “I want to inform you that I’m organizing a relief for your detail. It’s a little muddled right now, but you should be off by sunset.”

  “Not that it’s within my rank to ask, but what’s the problem?” inquired Alerio.

  Peregrinus inhaled and hesitated as if he wasn’t going to reply. Then, he shook his head to clear it and looked at Alerio.

  “The General is barely hanging on, apparently the Colonel is dead somewhere out there,” the Tribune reported while pointing beyond the group moving towards the gate. “We’ve lost most of our officer corps, command staff and senior NCOs. I seem to be the fourth or fifth ranking officer left in the Legion. And apparently, the only one unwounded. I never knew the thousand and one details required to run a Legion camp.”

  “Are the wounded being tended to? And the men fed?” Alerio asked.

  “Yes, I have the medics working on the wounded,” responded Peregrinus. “And I have the General’s cooks making stew and baking bread.”

  “And the gate is secure,” Alerio reported. “You’ve covered the basics. What about the Tribune that came in earlier? He seemed fit.”

  “What Tribune?” demanded Peregrinus.

  “Before you brought out the wagons and burned them, a Tribune rode in,” explained Alerio. “He seemed older but I wouldn’t trust him. He left two wounded cavalrymen in his dust. Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to speak out of line.”

  “All this time, there was another staff officer in the camp?” Peregrinus growled. “Excuse me Lance Corporal Sisera. I have a pair of cōleī to kick.”

  “Yes, sir, I understand completely,” Alerio said.

  But the words were spoken to the Tribune’s back. The young nobleman was stalking towards the gate with his shoulder set hard and his fist balled up.

  ***

  The group came close enough for Alerio to recognize Sergeant Meleager and Centurion

  Seneca. Around them were over a hundred men with another seventy or so carrying about thirty-five wounded.

  “Report, Sisera,” Meleager demanded as he stepped away from the formation.r />
  They were separated as the units marched by. Once the last Legionary had passed, Alerio stepped across to his Sergeant.

  “The gate is secure, Sergeant,” Alerio stated while holding out his arms to indicate the Legionaries, the open gate, and the burned wagons.

  As an experienced NCO, Meleager had a sharp eye for details. The first thing he noticed was the dried blood on Sisera and his squad. While the rest of the detail had a few traces, it was obvious Seventh Squad had done some hard fighting.

  “Explain those,” Meleager stated while pointing at the burned wagons.

  “The ground was too hard and we didn’t have time to dig. So, Tribune Peregrinus burned them,” Alerio explained. “It worked as you can see, no tribesmen breached our gate defenses.”

  “The young Tribune?” asked the Sergeant.

  “He’s been running the camp single handedly,” Alerio said. “From what I can see and the response from inside, he’s done a good job organizing the returning Legionaries.”

  “Alright, let me see about getting your detail relieved,” the Sergeant said as he turned towards the gate.

  Suddenly, two columns of Legionaries appeared. At first glance, there seemed to be two full Centuries stacked, loaded down with gear, and ready to march. Behind them, two raised voices quarreled.

  “I’m taking the Centuries and going to get help,” a man exclaimed. “As the senior Tribune, it’s my decision.”

  “You can’t take healthy Legionaries out of the camp,” Tribune Peregrinus argued back. “We have too many wounded. I need those men to guard the camp.”

  The two noblemen walked through the gate. One leading a horse and Peregrinus walking along looking up at a taller and older Tribune.

  “Look Peregrinus, you are a nice lad, but I know what I’m doing,” the other Tribune said with a condescending tone. “You can stay here and play Legionary. As for me, I’m marching out of here right now.”

  “I will not allow it,” Peregrinus insisted.

  “Who is going to stop me? You?” the Tribune challenged then he shouted. “Centuries, stand by. Forward march.”