Reluctant Siege

by J. Clifton Slater

  ***

  The sun rose bright and strong and the clouds blew away. It was a morning that promised warmth after the late spring snowstorm. Alerio, on his knees, watched the river and the land between, from under a branch.

  “How are you feeling, Tribune Peregrinus?” he asked while keeping his eyes on the melting snow.

  When Peregrinus didn’t reply, Alerio turned his head. The Tribune was curled up in his cloak with his eyes wide open.

  “Sir, how are you feeling?” Alerio insisted.

  “Cold. So cold,” Peregrinus mumbled.

  “We’ll be leaving soon,” Alerio informed him. “You’ll warm up on the run.”

  “My feet hurt. Do you think I have the rot?” asked Peregrinus. “I don’t want to lose my toes.”

  “You’re fine, Tribune,” Alerio assured him. “When I put on your boots, I felt your toes. They were warm.”

  “So, the medics won’t cut on me?” Peregrinus inquired brightening up a little.

  “Not that I can tell,” Alerio said turning back to peer out from under the branch. “But those three Insubri riders may have a different idea. Are you able to fight?”

  “I’m stiff and my arms and legs feel like they’re covered in clay,” Peregrinus replied. “I don’t know.”

  From the northern direction, three warriors wrapped tightly in furs let their ponies pick the way forward. Unfortunately for the Legionary and the Tribune, the ponies choose a path along the tree line.

  “Not hunters, they don’t have their bows strung,” reported Alerio. “And they aren’t in a hurry. Probably a routine patrol.”

  “You said there are three of them?” Peregrinus whimpered. “I survived freezing to death in the river only to get perfututum by three barbarians before I can even get warm. It just doesn’t seem right.”

  “Swing your arms around and rub your legs,” Alerio instructed. “When I leave, wait for the Insubri to pass by then follow. Do what you can. Oh, and sing along with me.”

  “Sing?” asked Peregrinus. “Why are we singing?”

  “Softly for now,” advised Alerio ignoring the questions. “When we attack them, sing louder.”

  “We’re going to attack them?” questioned Peregrinus.

  Under his breath, Alerio began to sing.

  Inspection, Inspection, I’m Ready for inspection

  I hone the edge, polish the blade, clean the guard, and oil the hilt

  My gladius for inspection

  I stitch the hide, tighten the grab, repair the frame, and oil the face

  My shield for inspection

  I pound the dents, buff out the rents, adjust the guards,

  and oil the joints

  My helmet for inspection

  I check the clasps, replace the grabs, straighten the plates,

  and oil the straps

  My armor for inspection

  By dawn, I’m ready for review

  On savages with no regard, I use them hard

  Wrecks my repairs and restorations

  Grinding himself on my gear, before dying with cheer

  He ruins my good intentions

  Inspection, Inspection

  I’m Ready for Inspection

  I hone the edge, polish the blade, clean the guard, and oil the hilt

  My gladius for inspection

  I stitch the hide, tighten the grab, repair the frame, and oil the face

  My shield for inspection

  I pound the dents, buff out the rents, adjust the guards,

  and oil the joints

  My helmet for inspection

  I check the clasps, replace the grabs, straighten the plates

  and oil the straps

  My armor for inspection

  By eve, I’m ready for relaxing

  Savages who should stay away, I’ve been killing all day

  Dulls my grinds and alterations

  Blocking and stabbing fools, as they die upon my tools

  Ruins my good intentions

  “Inspection, Inspection,” Alerio sang as he crawled to Peregrinus. “Sing with me, Tribune. I’m ready for inspection.”

  Alerio jerked his cloak up to cover the two hilts sticking above his shoulders. Then, he pulled the long knife, looked at the Tribune and winked.

  “I hone the edge, polish the blade, clean the guard, and oil the hilt. My gladius for inspection,” he sang softly while ducking low and slipping out the backside of their shelter.

  As afraid as Peregrinus was, the awful tone-deaf singing by the Legionary made him chuckle. He had never actually sung the song. But late in the evenings, Legionaries sang it while servicing their equipment so the Tribune knew the words.

  “I stitch the hide, tighten the grab, repair the frame, and oil the face. My shield for inspection,” Peregrinus sang while stretching, briskly rubbing his legs and rotating his shoulders. As he moved to the same exit used by Alerio, he stopped.

  ***

  The three Insubri warriors and their ponies clomped casually along the tree line. They were scouting for Republic forces coming up from the south. Warned not to engage, their orders were to race back to the picket line at the first sign of Legionaries.

  While the orders from their Chief were specific, the warriors didn’t think it included the man standing in a clearing deeper in the woods. Although seemingly relaxed, the man stared straight at the warriors. His cloak bunched up around his neck as if cold, the Legionary pointed a knife at them in a challenge. A challenge the warriors couldn’t ignore.

  They pulled long swords from sheathes and easily dropped off their ponies. Without taking their eyes off the Legionary, they tied the reins to a tree’s branches, tossed their fur robes over the backs of the ponies, and stalked into the woods.

  ***

  Big lads, Alerio observed as the Insubri warriors brushed aside tree limbs. They came for him two abreast. As soon as they reached the clearing, the northern warriors separated and swung their swords around to loosen up their shoulders. Big swords, Alerio thought.

  “Do me a favor,” he called across the clearing.

  “What’s that?” one inquired in broken Latin.

  “Drop dead and save me the trouble of spilling your blood,” Alerio suggested.

  “Little soldier, little knife, you face the Insubri,” replied the warrior while twirling his sword so it made a whirling sound. “It is your blood that will nourish the forest this day.”

  “You insult my knife?” Alerio responded.

  Reaching back, he tucked away the long knife. As his hand rose, it caught the edge of his cloak and he tossed it off to the side of the clearing.

  “How about you insult these,” he said while reaching up over his shoulders. As his hands wrapped around the hilts of his two gladii, Alerio asked, “Can you guess their name?”

  Alerio pulled both gladii from their sheaths and pointed the blades at the warriors.

  “What do you call the fat blades?” inquired the warrior.

  “It doesn’t matter what I call them,” Alerio announced. “For you, they mean death.”

  From the tree line, one of the ponies whinnied. The three warriors turned to look as Tribune Peregrinus vaulted onto a mare’s back and kneed it into a fast trot. Alerio used the distraction to step forward. With the distance closed, he bent his knees to appear the same height. Turning back around, one of the Insubri cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes at Alerio.

  “You sacrificed yourself to allow another to steal a pony?” inquired the warrior.

  “That wasn’t the plan,” Alerio assured him. “But if he gets away, so be it.”

  “Does the coward know we have a war party to the south?” the Insubri asked.

  The Legionary’s reply wasn’t what the warriors expected.

  ***

  “Inspection, Inspection. I’m Ready for Inspection,” Alerio sang as he began to twirl his gladii. “I hone the edge, polish the blade, clean the guard, and oil the hilt. My gladius for inspection”
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br />   His blades spun so fast, they created more noise than the warrior’s long blade. The show seemed to entertain them until Alerio surged forward. Before the Insubri could react, the Legionary was between two of them. Too tight for their long swords but perfect for the short gladii.

  Spinning so his blades circled, he cut two of the warriors. One collapsed with a deep gash in his side. The other danced away with only a slash to his arm.

  “I stitch the hide, tighten the grab, repair the frame, and oil the face,” Alerio sang as he jumped over the fatally wounded warrior. Using him as an obstacle, the Legionary beckoned the two Insubri forward. “My shield for inspection.”

  “You sing like rancid boar meat,” an Insubri observed.

  “Then aged boar meat must be delicious,” Alerio responded. “Are you going to fight, herd animal, or stand around chewing your cud?”

  The two warriors charged forward. Their long swords swiping inward at an angle.

  “I pound the dents, buff out the rents, adjust the guards,” Alerio belted out as he dove under the blades and off to the side. “and oil the joints. My helmet for inspection.”

  His left gladius lashed out as he rolled slicing across a warrior’s thigh muscle. Alerio hit on the back of his shoulders and continued to roll. When he regained his footing and twisted around, he saw the result of his pass. The wounded warrior lay across the body of his dead companion.

  The last warrior began to run for his pony.

  “Coward!” shouted Alerio. “My father has milk cows with more honor and courage than the Insubri.”

  The warrior stopped and turned. He looked at the dead tribesman and at the one attempting to stem the flow of blood from the deep cut. Then, his eyes drifted up to the Legionary.

  Alerio held a gladius at his own neck while pointing at the wounded man. He was mimicking cutting the injured man’s throat.

  “I check the clasps, replace the grabs, straighten the plates, and oil the straps,” Alerio continued singing. “My armor for inspection.”

  The warrior bashed a tree branch creating a shower of snow. As if a legendary hero coming through a sparkling portal from another world, the big man stalked forward.

  “By eve, I’m ready for relaxing. Savages who should stay away, I’ve been killing all day,” Alerio sang the last words with a smile. “Dulls my grinds and alterations.”

  Approaching slowly, the Insubri held his blade up and to one side. From there he could chop downward, stab, or slice laterally.

  “Blocking and stabbing fools,” Alerio chanted as he moved within range of the long sword.

  The warrior dipped the tip forward and with all the strength of his powerful shoulders drew the blade down and across. His aim was to cleave deeply into the Legionary’s chest, if not all the way through his torso.

  Alerio bent his left knee while raising the left gladius. The Legionary couldn’t stop the long sword’s momentum. The edges met and the Insubri’s blade skated along the gladius being redirected upward. It passed just over the Legionary’s head.

  Extending his right leg, Alerio thrust his right gladius deeply into the warrior’s groin. He twisted the blade before yanking it free. The Insubri dropped his sword and grabbed his crotch as he fell to his knees.

  “As they die upon my tools. Ruins my good intentions,” Alerio finished the verse as he stood up. Walking to the bleeding warrior, he leaned down and wiped the blood from his blades on the warrior’s pants

  He picked up the long sword, measured its weight in his hand, and looked down at the dying barbarian.

  “You should have attacked as soon as you entered the clearing,” Alerio instructed as he rested the long blade on his shoulder.

  ***

  After retrieving his cloak, Alerio ducked under the fir tree and strapped on his pack. Pushing his way out from under the fir, he approached the ponies. They stood calmly munching grass they located after nuzzling aside the thinning layer of snow.

  One pony was red and distinct. Alerio yanked the fur robe off its back, untied him and pulled the reins off. With a swat to its hunches, he sent the pony towards the river. After a quick trip into the woods to hide the robe and reins, Alerio came back and inspected the other pony.

  She was plain grey with no distinguishing marks and she was calm. Not the sort of mount a tribal leader or an outstanding Insubri would ride. In short, an unidentifiable ride for a lackluster warrior. Hopefully nobody would recognize the pony or her rider at a distance.

  Chapter -14 War Party Games

  Alerio nudged the pony away from the tree line. They strolled along the flat ground until they approached a steep grade. Angling to a point where the land fell away on two sides, he drew the pony to a stop.

  Far below, a campfire burned and five Insubri warriors sat facing in one direction. Two more stood with bows in hand also facing in the same direction. All of their focus was on a tree. Tied to the tree was Tribune Peregrinus.

  His legs were wide apart and bent back in what had to be an uncomfortable sprawl. With them tied that far apart, all of his weight rested on partially bent knees. His arms were no help. They were strapped to either side of the tree trunk. It was a ridiculous attempt at imitating a crucifixion.

  “Lazy barbarians. Won’t take time to put a man up on the wood properly,” Alerio mumbled. Then one of the bowmen notched an arrow and shot it into the tree. The arrow quivered a couple of fingers width from the Tribunes left elbow. “But not bad for target practice.”

  The other bowman caught sight of the rider and pony on the hill. He acknowledged Alerio with a wave of his bow.

  What the bowman saw was a robed figure sitting on a drab pony. Alerio pulled the long sword and waved it in the air returning the greeting. Then, he kneed the pony into motion and guided her back the way they had come.

  He hadn’t seen any red spots on the Tribune’s body. That spoke well of the Insubri archery and presented him with a problem. Now, instead of sneaking into their camp and recovering the dispatches, he had to rescue the coward of a Tribune.

  Once out of sight of the war party, Alerio turned the pony. He pondered the tasks as he rode towards the trees closest to the drop-off. It would be easy to slit Peregrinus’ throat while getting the Legion’s messages. Then he remembered the trapped and wounded Legionaries. Without the Tribune’s political connections, reinforcements would be delayed.

  Alerio tossed back the fur robe letting it bunch up on the pony’s haunches. After a search, he located a trail and urged the animal into the forest.

  ***

  The trail snaked through the trees in a southwestern direction. Where the land to the east fell, the track climbed higher into the foothills. For animals passing through the forest, the trail provided easy passage. But not so for a rider. Soon the trees closed in and Alerio had to dismount. He pondered leading the pony further but, a glance at the steep grade ahead convinced him to set her free.

  He slipped the robe back on, not to wear it for comfort but, for the ease of carrying the bulky fur garment. As the pony picked her way back down the path, Alerio climbed the trail to the top of the foothill. At the center of a flat area, he turned left and began to descend. If he figured correctly, below him at the edge of the thick trees was open grassland and the Insubri war party’s camp.

  ***

  Alerio, wrapped in the black fur robe, peered between branches. Down on the grassland, three of the warriors squatted beside the campfire. The other four, either on patrol or lost behind branches, were not visible. Peregrinus also was out of his field of vision. He couldn’t tell if the Tribune lived or had the good manners to die making Alerio’s task simpler.

  The sun’s rays filtered straight down through the trees letting him know it was midday. Digging in his pack produced a wheat cake and a strip of dried meat. Once the food was consumed, Alerio leaned back on the slope and closed his eyes.

  A cool breeze across his exposed hands alerted him to the setting of the sun behind the foothills. Snugged inside
the warm robe, Alerio had to fight the urge to remain motionless and go back to sleep. But, he had come too far, not in distance but in suffering, to ignore his duty. Plus, if the Tribune lived, he’d need awhile to figure out a way to extract the gutless nobleman.

  As the sky turned grey, Alerio rolled onto his hands and knees and began carefully picking his way down the slope. With the black fur robe blending into the deepening shadows, he made it to the bottom of the hill unseen. There he crept forward as daylight faded. Two trees back from the grassland, he squatted and studied the Insubri camp.

  ***

  Off to the left of the camp, ponies whinnied. They were tied to a picket line not far from the campfire. Only two warriors tended the fire. Close to them, a Legion leather pack rested unopened next to several sacks of Insubri supplies. Ten paces to the right lay the big tree where Peregrinus was tied.

  The pack with the Legion dispatches held the highest priority. The Tribune, if he lived, was secondary. However, if Alerio tripped up, alerted the Insubri, and had to run, freeing Peregrinus became a non-issue. Legionaries ran a lot and fast. But not if slowed down by a weak Tribune who left a companion to face three big barbarians alone.

  One of the warriors pulled a stick from the fire and walked towards the big tree. Alerio followed the burning ember as the barbarian approached Peregrinus’ location. He squatted and held out the stick.

  Alerio expected to hear cries of pain as Peregrinus’ face was horribly burned. When no screams carried across from the big tree, Alerio squinted his eyes in an attempt to better see the shadowy figure.

  “Eat,” ordered the barbarian.

  Alerio didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. The Insubri wanted the Tribune healthy so they were feeding him. Unreliable coward or not, he had to be freed. Once Alerio settled on the idea, he mostly released his resentment.

  Alerio eased back into the forest, faced left, and headed towards the ponies.