***
Alerio took time bundling his gear and strapping his armor, helmet, and shield together. After shouldering the awkward load, he pushed through the tent flap and was greeted by cursing and grumblings of discontent.
Immediately, he spotted the source. At the area of the first four squads, new shields were stacked, and the Legionaries fitted on pristine chest armor, skirts, and helmets. Starting at the 5th Squad, the gear was scarred and bent with cracked and dry rotted leather straps. At first glance, the equipment appeared to be badly used. He looked closely at 9th and 10th Squads and saw that most of the gear was unserviceable.
Ibis Gustavi scurried down the length of the camp with his eyes locked straight ahead. He ignored the calls for an explanation and complaints from the Legionaries. Almost as if he harbored guilt for the ruined equipment, the Optio fled towards the NCOs’ tent.
“Sergeant Gustavi. Is that the best you could buy with Senator Maximus’s coins?” Alerio inquired.
“There were other expenses,” Gustavi mumbled while brushing Alerio aside before disappearing through the tent’s opening.
Alerio wanted to walk away. His impression of the Optio and the absence of the Centurion already gave him a feeling of mistrust. And now, most of the heavy infantrymen didn’t have the equipment they needed to face an enemy.
5th Squad attempted to stack their shields but the iron bands were bent and the shields so warped, the stack fell over. One of the Legionaries kicked the pile, easily flipping two of the heavy infantry shields into the air.
‘The wood is rotted,’ he thought before dropping his gear and spinning around.
He paused, questioning his actions for a heartbeat, before marching into the NCOs’ tent to confront the Sergeant.
***
The Optio sat on a camp stool with his head resting in his hands. Glancing up with a worried expression on his face, he seemed surprised at seeing Alerio, yet relieved. Probably because it wasn’t one of his squad leaders demanding an explanation.
“What are you doing here?” Gustavi inquired.
“I could ask you the same thing, Sergeant.”
“Clarify that comment, Corporal.”
“That equipment tells me two things,” Alerio replied. “You siphoned off funds for yourself.”
“What’s the other thing you think you know?”
“You are not an experienced infantry Optio.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because if you had ever stood behind a shield wall, you’d want the best equipment and best-trained men between you and the enemy’s spears.”
“You’re right. My experience is with building for the Legions,” Gustavi informed Alerio. “But I didn’t take the Century’s funds for myself. The coins were necessary for the villa where Centurion Megellus is staying.”
“Instead of shields and armor, you diverted the funds to fixing up a summer villa?” questioned Alerio. “How is a heavy infantry Century supposed to defend themselves with inferior equipment?”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Gustavi informed the Corporal. “This isn’t an infantry unit.”
“You try convincing a battle commander of that when he puts you in a maniple.”
“Centurion Megellus is working the political angle,” Gustavi reported. “and I’ve staffed the Century with Legionaries who are craftsmen. The 9th and 10th Squads specifically.”
“What about the others?”
“The Samnites are here because Consul/General Otacilius Crassus is of Samnite origin. And we want to be attached to his Legions,” Gustavi confessed. “General Valerius Mesalla will be marching on Syracuse. While he is laying siege to miles of defensive walls, General Crassus will be dealing with smaller cities. He’ll require infrastructure and that’s where Megellus Century will be needed.”
“Senator Maximus expects this Century to be a line outfit and part of a battle maniple formation,” Alerio remarked. “He has most likely sent word to the Legion’s command staff informing them of the fact.”
“Centurion Megellus is working his contacts to assure the proper outcome,” Gustavi declared.
“I hope your plan works. Because I’ve faced Qart Hadasht mercenaries. At the present state of your squads, the soldiers will kick their way through those rotten shields and butcher you and the entire Century,” Alerio warned. Then, he added while ducking through the exit. “You can expect a communiqué from the Senator after he receives my report.”
“Corporal Sisera. I might have been too hasty in judging your qualifications,” Sergeant Gustavi called from inside. “Come back and let’s talk about the Tesserarius position.”
Alerio’s stomach soured but Senator Maximus ordered him here and depended on him to build this Century. Despite his sense of pride and self-preservation, Corporal Sisera turned and walked back into the NCOs’ tent.
***
“How bad are they?” Alerio asked as he squatted by Pentri Umbria from 6th Squad.
The Decanus spun the shield on a corner then punched it with his fist. Rather than the sound of flesh and bone on hardwood, it resembled a hand slap against a wet surface.
“I’ve peeled off the covers from four,” Pentri replied while cutting the dried leather facing. “We may be able to rebuild one by scavenging from two others.”
“At the best, we can rebuild sixteen out of forty-eight,” Alerio counted. “That leaves us short thirty-two shields. How about the armor?”
Pentri kicked a helmet to the Tesserarius and the headgear wobbled to Alerio’s feet. The motion of the shell unimpeded by cheek guards, they were missing, and the wobble due to the misshapen helmet.
“Did they give us parts or extra leather bindings?”
“It seems the distressed sale this junk came from didn’t include repair items,” Lance Corporal Umbria spit out. “Do you want to see the armored skirts?”
“Strip what you can and start rebuilding the shields,” Alerio instructed while ignoring Pentri’s last comment. “I’m going to see if any squads have it better.”
As the Corporal crossed to the 7th, Optio Gustavi emerged from the NCOs’ tent and marched to the 9th and then the 10th. Moments later, both squads followed him with their leather bags of tools. He also collected the first four squads and marched the six contuberniums out of camp, down to the beach, and northward in the direction of the villa.
“You and the Optio don’t like each other, do you?” inquired Caricini Aternus.
“I don’t know him well enough to dislike him,” Alerio replied to the Decanus of 7th Squad. “Let’s just say I’m disappointed in Sergeant Gustavi.”
The Lance Corporal held up a section of twisted breastplate and added, “You are not alone Tesserarius.”
Chapter 7 – Craftsmen Legionaries
While the Squads attempted to salvage gear by combining the best parts, Alerio went to the NCOs’ tent. Inside, he placed the Century’s fund box on the camp desk, sat on the stool, and removed the straps from around the box.
Alerio pulled out a bottle of ink and a quill. Then he picked up the Century’s roster and unrolled it. Horatius Ostrei was changed from Tesserarius to Lance Corporal, Lucius Tescum’s promotion to Lance Corporal was noted, as well as Palinurus’ demotion back to Private. Then Alerio hesitated. The final change to the Legion payment document had to be made but, it carried consequences.
Once Alerio Sisera wrote his name on the roster, he’d fall under Ibis Gustavi’s command. The Sergeant’s next order, be it good or bad, required obedience. Alerio thought for a moment before adding his name to the list of personnel. Then he rolled it, placed the roster in the box, and extracted the accounting document.
“Let’s see how badly you’ve hurt the Century’s funds, Centurion Fenoris Megellus,” Corporal Sisera whispered as he unrolled the parchment.
Anger flashed through Alerio as he ran his eyes over the listed items. The cruelest accounting trick wasn’t the expenses for a wagon full of building supplies for the v
illa. They weren’t listed. Instead, the document showed every Legionary had been issued new equipment. When the Century reported to the Legion, the quartermaster would issue new helmets, shields, armored skirts, chest guards, and gladii to replace the broken, worn out, and bent. And the individual Legionary would have the expense of replacing his gear deducted from his pay. As a result, forty-eight of the eighty infantrymen in the Century would shoulder the bill for repairs to a summer villa.
Alerio rolled the accounting document and placed it in the box. With shaking hands, he opened the coin pouch and began counting. A quick estimate showed the Century had enough for another pay cycle. Only enough. Then the Century would have to report to the Legion and begin drawing pay from the General’s fund. A sad thought crossed his mind as he tied the pouch and closed the lid.
There were no additional coins for a funeral. If a Legionary died and the proper procedures for a funeral weren’t observed, his soul might wander for one hundred years before being allowed to cross the river Styx and enter the Elysian Fields. A priest, sacrificial animals, and a burial required currency. Thanks to the Centurion and Optio, the Century had none to spare.
***
Alerio left the tent and marched to the rear of the NCOs’ quarters. Moving towards the wagons with the Century’s javelins and food supplies, he called to the mule handlers as he passed through their camp.
“Grilli. Tell your handlers their recreation period had drawn to a close,” he informed the head mule handler. “Assign a servant to each squad. Make sure your most talented are with the ones mending gear.”
“Tesserarius Sisera, you seem troubled,” Grilli observed.
“Me?” challenged Alerio. “I’ve savored victory and tasted defeat. The sour bile on my tongue is neither.”
“If not victory or defeat, what are you tasting?”
“Vexation,” Alerio declared as he climbed onto the first wagon to check the supplies.
***
Once back in the squad area, Alerio looked around as the Legionaries hammered and twisted metal trying to get the armor and helmets back into the proper shape.
“Lance Corporal Aternus, 7th Squad has first watch on the NCOs’ tent,” Alerio instructed. “Get with Frentani and rotate the guard with 8th Squad.”
“And where will you be Corporal Sisera?” Caricini inquired as he attempted to tap an old band around a newly constructed shield. At two deep impact dents, the iron stretched and snapped. Decanus Aternus threw the pieces to the ground and spit after them.
“To see the Optio and Centurion about that,” Alerio replied while raising an arm to point at the broken strips of iron.
Caricini looked up with a scowl on his face and assured Alerio, “Corporal Sisera, we have the NCOs’ tent secured.”
Of all the property in all the tents, including the Centurions, the Century’s funds were the most valuable. When the Optio and the Tesserarius left the area, a Legionary stood guard to protect the unit’s wealth. Even if the funds were depleted.
With the thought of the coins and gear in mind, Alerio marched up the camp, moved between the officer’s tent and 1st Squad’s, and stopped. Down on the beach, a Centurion trotted from the North. He rode past the Legion camp without a sideways glance. Although not sure, Alerio guessed the rider was Centurion Fenoris Megellus. Deciding he could at least have a conversation with the Sergeant, Alerio marched down to the beach and headed towards the villa.
***
Private Palinurus stood on a line of scattered stones. A few days before, they had been a wall of the compound with only a few lose and fallen rocks. Now one complete side of the barrier had been dismantled.
“Building a road?” Alerio inquired as he walked up from the beach.
“Shoddy workmanship, Tesserarius,” the big Legionary replied. “They used mortar to hide their lack of knowledge. Stone has character. You cannot place angry on top of angry.”
“Angry?”
“Let me show you,” suggested Palinurus. He selected two rocks and stacked one on top of the other in the palm of his hand. Then he vibrated them by shaking his hand from side to side.
“They appear stable,” offered Alerio.
“Watch,” instructed Palinurus. His hand dipped slightly to the side for less than a heartbeat then flattened. The top rock shifted, rotated, and then settled crosswise to the bottom stone. “Terminus, our God of boundary markers would be insulted if I forced these rocks together with mortar.”
“I don’t know about Terminus. But from your description, I imagine the rocks would be outraged if you bedded them together in the wall,” Alerio guessed. He had no idea what the Legionary was talking about. “Where can I find Optio Gustavi and Centurion Megellus?”
“Centurion Megellus rode out right after he stormed from the villa asking what I was doing ripping down his cousin’s wall,” Palinurus replied. “I showed him the results of improper mixing rocks but he tossed up his arms and went to find the Sergeant. A little while later, the Centurion was on his horse heading south along the beach.”
“Is it going to take long to rebuild the wall?”
“I have them sorted by temperament,” Palinurus assured him. “They’ll practically set themselves.”
Alerio nodded his head at the Legionary stonemason and picked his way over the stones. While growing up on his father’s farm, Alerio had participated in building miles of stone walls. Never once did they consider angry stones. But every spring, some of the walls, no matter how carefully constructed, had fallen and needed to be rebuilt. Maybe his father should have considered the temperament of the rocks.
***
As he walked the lawn beside the villa, Alerio heard the crackling of hot burning wood. Then the metallic smell of molten metal and charcoal assaulted his nostrils. He located the source of the sound and smells in an elevated rear courtyard.
Quiris Stulte from 9th Squad stood over a trench directing Legionaries who dug out shovels of sand. Behind him, a furnace made of stone blocks flashed flames with each pump of the bellows.
“What are you working on, Decanus Stulte?” Alerio inquired.
“Water flow, Corporal,” Quiris responded. “The bath and fountain need new piping.”
“I don’t see a lot of clay around here. Are you getting it from up in the hills?”
“Not clay pipes, we’re constructing lead pipes. Metal doesn’t require the curing period of clay,” the Lance Corporal informed him. “We’re using that stone.”
Alerio gazed at a long flat rock. Out of place resting on the patio bricks, the surface had dulled metallic residue around the edges.
“I thought you said you were making pipes not lead sheets.”
Quiris moved to a position over the brick furnace, picked up a pair of tongs, and removed the top brick.
“Spoon,” he ordered holding out a hand. A long-handled steel ladle was passed to the Lance Corporal. He reached into the furnace and dipped the spoon. “We’ve melted the lead and I’m going to skim off the dross.”
From the furnace, he lifted out the spoon’s head and poured hot liquid into a clay bowl. Then he pulled a thumb-sized lump of bee’s wax from a pouch and dropped it to the furnace. Alerio moved closer to looked into the kiln. A container, filled with molten lead, rested in the flames.
“The wax works as flux and will cause the other impurities to clump together,” Quiris explained as he dipped the spoon into the lead. After stirring, he lifted out a couple of small balls from the container and deposited them in the bowl. Handing off the spoon, he took the tongs and warned. “Hot metal.”
Quiris lifted the container from the kiln, walked it to the flat stone, and began pouring lead. In a pattern resembling a cook making pancakes, he drizzled the lead onto the stone being careful not to splash any of the hot liquid. When there was an even layer coating the surface, he put the container back into the oven.
“A lead sheet,” observed Alerio. “I don’t see a pipe.”
“Cool it,” Quiris
instructed.
Another Legionary tilted a bucket and water hissed and steamed when it hit the lead. By the bottom of the bucket, the water pooled on the sheet and bubbled a little. With a hatchet, a third Legionary trimmed the edges until the lead sheet was cut into a long rectangle. Then he worked the flat tool lengthwise down the surface of the lead until it was level.
“The thickness is good and we have a smooth interior,” Quiris proclaimed after squatting down to inspect the lead sheet. “Roll it.”
Using the blade of the hatchet, the Legionary peeled the long edge of the sheet from the stone. When the edge resembled the crest of a wave, another man placed a pole against the curve and began beating along the edge with a wooden mallet. His hammering rolled the lead around the pole until a tube of metal formed.
“Good shape, cut it,” Quiris ordered.
In response, the hatchet man sawed down the side of the tube separating it from the lead sheet. Once free, the mallet man hammered the seams together leaving a thin gap. Quiris took the ladle, dipped it into the hot lead, and poured the liquid into the seam. A few more taps to spread and flatted the hot lead closed and sealed the seam. Then the Legionary with the mallet pulled the pole from inside the form and held up a length of pipe.
“Quicker than clay and we can carry the water around bends,” Quiris announced.
“Impressive,” acknowledged Alerio. Not seeing any flowing water, he inquired. “Where does the water come from?”
“There’s a spring on the other side of the hill. A small tunnel carries it to the castellum where it’s collected,” Quiris described while pointing at a round structure higher up on the hill. “I’ve got the rest of my squad pulling a shovel head attached to a rope through the tunnel cleaning out the gravel, dirt, and sand.”
“And how do you get the water into the villa?”
“It’ll flow from the castellum, fall into a pipe leading under the patio, and come out at a fountain,” Quiris replied. “When we’re done, this villa will have running water. As good a system as you’ll find in any grand estate in the Capital.”
“Why are skilled craftsmen, like your squad, in the infantry?” Alerio asked. “There has to be a demand for your services in every major city.”
Infinite Courage Page 5