Infinite Courage

by J. Clifton Slater

  “Most of us are younger sons,” Quiris informed Alerio. “We grew up learning our craft. But we’ll always be under the thumb of our older brothers. At home, we’d be nothing more than servants. In the Legion, we get to travel and get paid for it.”

  “And maybe die on the tip of a spear,” suggested Alerio.

  “Not according to Optio Gustavi. We’ll be building roads and Legion posts.”

  “Where is the Sergeant?”

  “In the villa, Tesserarius,” Quiris answered.

  ***

  Alerio stomped across the patio with fury twisting his guts. Command staff’s fantasy of being some kind of special unit had spread through the ranks. Instead of mentally and physically preparing to man a shield wall, the Century envisioned themselves far behind the line happily plying their trade.

  He passed a dry fountain. In his haste, he barely paid attention to the statue of Faun with a hole in the half-man half-goat figure’s mouth for the water pipe. Deeper in the great room, his eyes scanned the buffed floor tiles and the newly painted walls. Down a short hallway, he located the Sergeant and the Lance Corporals from 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Squads. They sat around a table, talking and sipping mugs of vino.

  “Corporal Sisera, grab a drink and join us,” Horatius Ostrei invited.

  “I need to have words with the Sergeant,” insisted Alerio.

  “This is an NCO meeting, Tesserarius,” Gustavi stated. “Whatever you have to say, can be said in front of our squad leaders.”

  “If that was the case, you’re missing six squad leaders,” Alerio pointed out.

  “Do you always have to play the hard-nosed veteran?” Hallus Italus questioned. “It gets old fast.”

  Alerio started to explode on the gathering but caught himself. Two deep breaths later, he nodded and replied.

  “Have any of you been to Sicilia?” he inquired.

  “We’ve been stationed north and to the east,” Acharis Enitui ventured. “Mostly it was boring and difficult building situations. So, an island to the south can’t be much different.”

  “More heavy infantrymen marching around banging shields and beating themselves with gladii while we did the difficult work,” Hallus Italus added.

  Alerio clinched his fists and fought the urge to shout.

  “I was in Messina when the Legions crossed over and faced impossible odds,” Alerio lectured. “And I marched down the coast to face city militias. We retreated leaving half our Legionaries dead on the road. Sicilia is a battleground with walled cities and armies of Qart Hadasht mercenaries. There are no building projects to create infrastructure or units needed to build things. Only Legions on war footing every day, week in, and week out.”

  “We all know your opinion,” Gustavi responded dismissing the warning. “Centurion Megellus is more than capable of handling the politics of placement.”

  Alerio’s mouth fell open at the gullible attitude.

  “Optio Gustavi. I’m going to train this Century in an attempt to save lives,” he spoke in an even tone.

  “Fine, Corporal Sisera. We’re almost done with the villa,” Gustavi responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Do what you must to satisfy your view of the world.”

  Alerio didn’t bother to request permission to leave. He just spun on his heels and left the villa. On the beach, he ran southward hoping the physical effort would burn off his rage.

  Chapter 8 – The Day After Tomorrow

  The craftsmen and work detail squads returned from the villa the next afternoon to find the other squads out on the practice field. Javelins flew and the rattle of wooden gladii on practice posts carried to them.

  “Looks like Sisera is playing with his Samnites,” Hallus from 3rd Squad sneered.

  “Better them than us,” Horatius remarked as the squads moved to their areas.

  To their delight, a servant waited at each tent. 9th and 10th Squads filtered through and continued to their areas.

  “Our Tesserarius finally gave us some help around camp,” Trax commented. “I wonder what changed?”

  “Because you were supposed to be training before,” Alerio said as he stepped from between tents.

  “We still are, aren’t we?” questioned Acharis.

  “No. Now it’s time to become a fighting unit,” Alerio informed the squads. “Strap on your gear, grab your shields, and meet me on the practice field.”

  “It’s been a long day, Corporal,” Trax suggested as he flexed his arms. “Maybe tomorrow, after I get a good night’s sleep.”

  Laughter escaped the lips of several Legionaries.

  “Gee, why didn’t you tell me you were dēfutūta?” Alerio asked. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have set up this demonstration.”

  “What demonstration?”

  “Grilli, if you please,” Alerio called over his shoulder.

  From the other side of the camp, the mule handler strolled into view carrying an infantry shield. He crossed to the 2nd Squad’s area, handed Alerio the shield, and quickly went back the way he came.

  “Shield against shield? Or do you want to go for the gold and we’ll include gladii?” Alerio inquired.

  “Look Tesserarius, you seem like a decent enough NCO,” Trax offered. “Save yourself some pain and leave me alone.”

  Behind their Decanus, 2nd Squad nodded in agreement. Their squad leader had shown them his temper more than once.

  Alerio’s infantry shield never rose, dipped down, or wavered to the side. But when he took a giant step, the heavy shield shot forward and smashed Trax in the face. The force of the blow drove the squad leader back and off his feet.

  “I asked you a question,” Alerio reminded the Lance Corporal.

  Trax Dircium came off the ground and bull rushed the shield. Everyone expected Corporal Sisera to be knocked onto his back. But the moment Trax got a grip on the shield, Alerio bent his knees, powered forward, and used his body to lift his left arm.

  Lance Corporal Dircium found himself tossed into the air, clinging to the face of the shield. Then Corporal Sisera spun, jumped up and, putting the full weight of his body behind the shield, drove it and the squad leader into the ground. Trax, caught between the heavy shield and the soil, grunted as the air was forced from his lungs.

  Alerio stood up, stepped back, and looked over the top of the shield.

  “I asked you a question.”

  Blood dripped from Trax Dircium’s nose and a cut on his forehead. Gasping for breath, he looked up at the Corporal.

  “I wasn’t ready,” he complained between breaths.

  “Get your shield,” Alerio instructed. “and get ready.”

  Trax rolled away from Alerio almost as if fearing the shield would come at him again. While the Lance Corporal went to get his shield, Alerio talked to the astonished squads.

  “In the street fighting to take Messina, if you were fourth in the ranks, you had to learn to unload your shield. There were just too many Qart Hadasht mercenaries coming at us and we couldn’t afford to get weighed down,” he explained. “Granted, the twist and pound at the end is my invention.”

  Dircium returned with his shield and a grim expression on his face.

  “What, no gladius?” Alerio questioned. “I was hoping you had bigger cōleī.”

  “What did you say to me?”

  Alerio’s left arm rotated upward putting his shield parallel with the ground. Using the flat edge, he shoved it at Trax’s face while circling the Legionary. The Lance Corporal flinched and Alerio moved swiftly behind the man’s guard. There the Corporal slammed his right hand into the end of the shield. The solid hardwood snapped forward and smacked Trax in the back of his head.

  The Lance Corporal stumbled forward barely keeping his footing. Alerio helped by lifting his foot and kicking him in the back. Trax flew half a body’s length before crashing to the ground. As Dircium rolled over, preparing to stand, he stopped. The iron band of Corporal Sisera’s shield rested on his throat.

  “When given a c
hoice always choose a weapon,” Alerio instructed. Then he pressed down and both of Trax’s hands rose to hold the shield off his windpipe. “Although it’s been argued a shield is a weapon. But think, if my right hand was occupied with a gladius, you wouldn’t have a headache.”

  “What headache?”

  Alerio removed the shield, pivoted on one foot, and kicked Trax in the head. Lance Corporal Dircium’s hands went from protecting his throat to cupping his aching skull.

  “Get on your gear, take your shields, and meet me on the practice field,” Alerio ordered the squads. Then he looked down and added. “Don’t forget that disrespectful piece of merda and his equipment.”

  “But Trax is injured,” Horatius Ostrei protested.

  Alerio was partially turned. He stopped and slowly looked over his shoulder at the Lance Corporal for 1st Squad.

  “Shield against shield? Or would you like to include gladii?”

  ***

  For three days, Alerio drilled the Century. When not having Squads smashing into each other, he had them on the gladius post practicing their skills. Javelins flew, contuberniums sprinted, wrestled, and the entire Century ran through basic maneuvers.

  With sore muscles and fatigue from continuous movement, the squad leaders complained but not within earshot of the Corporal. One did and after the demonstration, the Lance Corporal required help to get back to the squad area at the end of the day.

  On day four, the squads rested on the practice field at midday with uneasy minds. Victoria Hill loomed as did the dreaded squad races. There was no feast waiting for the winners. Just the over-enthusiastic Corporal Sisera lurking on the slope for the losers. Before the call came to get on their feet, Sergeant Gustavi marched from the camp.

  “Ostrei, Dircium, Italus, and Enitui, collect your squads and report to me at the villa,” the Optio ordered.

  With the first four contuberniums out of the races, Alerio changed the afternoon’s training.

  “Go swim,” he instructed.

  While the remaining squads joked and relaxed on the way to drop their gear, Alerio stripped down and went to the supply wagon. After selecting two of the heavy practice gladii, he carried them to the training posts.

  ***

  Unseen by Corporal Sisera, a group of riders came up from the south. Fifteen in all, they joked and rode easy. Then one noticed the Legionary across the practice field. With two wooden gladii, the man wailed on the posts. Without missing a strike, he shifted between practice posts in an amazing display of swordsmanship. The rider broke from the group, nudged his mount up the embankment, and crossed to the Legionary.

  “You there,” he called down from the horse.

  Alerio stepped back and swung a couple of side strikes to slow down his arms. When the momentum dissipated, he rested the gladii on his shoulders and turned to face the rider.

  “Tribune. Good afternoon. What can I do for you, sir?” Alerio greeted the staff officer.

  “I know you are way out here with Centurion Megellus’ Century,” the staff officer acknowledged. “but there is a sword competition the day after tomorrow. From your gladius work, I would think you could pick up a few coins before being eliminated.”

  “Thank you for the information, Tribune,” Alerio replied. “But as you said, we are way out here.”

  “Just thought a talent like yours shouldn’t go to waste. Carry on.”

  The Tribune reined his horse around and encouraged the mount with pressure from his heels. As the officer rode to catch up with the group of riders, obviously heading for the villa, Alerio strolled to the supply wagon.

  He found Grilli sitting on the tailgate.

  “What did the Tribune want?” the mule handler inquired.

  “There’s a sword competition in the Legion camp,” Alerio replied while sliding the practice gladii under the goatskin cover.

  “That sounds like an opportunity. Are you going?”

  “I’m the only one here who believes this Century is going into combat,” Alerio explained. “And the only one who cares to teach these Legionaries how to survive.”

  “Go for a swim. I’ll get your supper and a wineskin ready,” Grilli suggested. “The rest of the Century’s command staff is celebrating tonight, why shouldn’t you?”

  ***

  Qart Hadasht mercenaries kicked through the Century’s rotted shields and soldiers poured through the breaches. Soldiers and Legionaries fought but the flow of Empire forces soon overwhelmed the Legionaries. Shouts for Corporal Sisera to help echoed in his ears. But his gladius and shield were too heavy to lift and he stood helpless watching his men die.

  Noises outside Alerio’s tent pulled him from the nightmare. Throwing off the blanket, he staggered to the tent flap, tossed it aside, and walked out to find four Lance Corporals sitting in front of the NCOs’ tent.

  “Good morning,” he greeted his Samnite squad leaders. The sky showed pink but the camp lay in darkness. In the campfire light, he made out four serious faces. “Lance Corporals Caudini, Umbria, Aternus, and Frentani, do we have a problem?”

  “We do, Tesserarius,” Telesia Caudini from 5th Squad replied. “We’ll be moving to the Legion camp soon. When we get there, they’ll issue us new equipment. The God Sterculius knows we need to exchange the merda for better gear.”

  “No argument there,” Alerio acknowledged.

  “And we’ll be charged for it,” Telesia continued. “Our pay will be docked. In short, we’ll be paying for the remodeling of a villa. It’s not fair.”

  “What does 9th and 10th Squads say about this?” questioned Alerio mentioning the two missing Lance Corporals. “They have the same shoddy equipment.”

  “I talked with Stulte and Tescum. Those men are so accustomed to being used as craftsmen, they haven’t pride enough to complain.”

  “There is nothing I can do,” admitted Alerio after a moment of thinking. “Optio Gustavi purchased the equipment without consulting me.”

  He didn’t mention that the accounting form showed the entire Century had been issued new gear. Although he told the truth, it would be disrespectful for a Corporal to openly criticize a superior or go into details.

  “We didn’t think you could fix the problem but we needed to voice our concerns.”

  “Your issues have been noted.”

  The four squad leaders stood and silently went back to their areas. Alerio’s gut tightened and he swore that somehow or someway in the future, he would make it up to the squads for the swindle. Looking at the sky, he realized there was time to eat before starting the day’s training.

  ***

  He was down to the last bites of bread and cheese when a shape came from out of the dark.

  “Corporal Sisera. What happens the day after tomorrow?” Grilli inquired.

  “And good morning to you,” Alerio replied. He took a swallow of water to wash down his breakfast and asked. “Is that a riddle?”

  “I have five handlers at the villa looking after the Tribunes horses,” Grilli said. “It’s funny how the nobles and Legionaries ignore animal wranglers and talk freely in our presence.”

  “Am I to guess at the conversations? Or is there a reason you feel the need to report gossip?”

  “If you don’t want to hear, Tesserarius, then I’ll keep my own counsel,” offered the mule handler.

  “Excuse my poor attitude. I’ve just had a troubling meeting,” Alerio explained. “Despite my curt replies, I am curious.”

  “Last night, Centurion Megellus paraded the Tribunes around the villa. He pointed out the quality of work done by the Century on the repairs and the new water system. All the while, he assured them, his Legionaries were available to do the same for the Legion,” Grilli described. “The staff officers were full of the Centurion’s food and vino so they agreed with him.”

  “Was a Senior Tribune or a Senior Centurion at the party?”

  “No, Corporal Sisera, they were not.”

  “Then our officer was pleading his ca
se to be a construction Century to a bunch of junior Tribunes,” Alerio commented. “I don’t understand his reasoning.”

  “His experience is with the permanent Northern Legion,” suggested Grilli. “Tribunes in garrisons have a lot of power in assigning details. Can I assume by your response, things work differently in a Consul’s marching Legion?”

  “Any construction required to advance on the enemy is handled by engineers and whatever Centuries are close by,” Alerio stated. “In a fighting Legion, a heavy infantry Century has one primary use. It’s why I’m pushing the Legionaries so hard.”

  “Let me restate my original question. What happens the day after tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow is the Legion games at Velia,” Alerio answered. “The day after is payday for the Century. Why do you ask?”

  “The other thing reported to me was a conversation between Optio Gustavi and a squad leader,” Grilli related. “The Decanus complained about your harsh treatment of the Lance Corporals and your impossible standards.”

  “If they think my training is hard, wait until they encounter the Legion’s weapons instructor or the Senior Centurion,” Alerio laughed. “Then they’ll be delighted with my gentle mannerisms.”

  “But that’s just it, Tesserarius,” Grilli advised. “According to the Sergeant, you’ll be gone the day after tomorrow.”

  Alerio closed his eyes. How could Sergeant Gustavi get rid of him and avoid bringing Senator Maximus’ wrath down on the Optio and Centurion? Then a thought formed and Alerio tried to push it out of his mind.

  A disgraced Corporal’s word wouldn’t carry much weight. And the most devastating accusation against a Tesserarius was the theft of Century funds. Considering the skimpy bank in the coin pouch, it wouldn’t take much to fall short while paying the Legionaries and mule handlers. Angry squads and the charge of larceny would follow.

  “A summary crucifixion,” Alerio mumbled.

  “Excuse me, Corporal Sisera. I didn’t catch that?”

  “Grilli. Thank you for the warning. I need to do some accounting before we start the morning,” Alerio stated as he stood. “Would you mind getting the Samnite squad leaders for me?”