Infinite Courage

by J. Clifton Slater

In the attacks so far, Hiematus hadn’t used his shield or a proper stance. Normal tactics would be to use a shield to throw Alerio off balance or to position him for a blade attack. And the jumping put the Legionary’s feet out of position. This told Alerio a lot about his foe.

  People extremely talented in one area often neglect or ignore secondary weapons or methods of balancing an attack. In this case, it was obvious Hiematus’ prowess with a blade allowed him to shun proper stances and the advantage of a shield.

  “Hold for a heartbeat, so I can draw my blade,” begged Alerio.

  “Go ahead, it won’t do you any good,” Hiematus advised. “I’ll just beat it and you into the sand.”

  “One question before we continue,” Alerio inquired. “Is it your mother or your father you resemble?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you got the ugly one,” Alerio stated. “Unless they are both…”

  Hiematus reached out with his gladius in a snake quick strike and hopped forward. In a blur, his blade slashed at his adversary’s neck.

  Alerio didn’t draw his gladius. Instead, he placed his right hand on his left giving him more control of his shield. When Hiematus moved, Alerio swung his shield to the left driving his foe’s right arm outward. A hard tilt, a jerk back, and the iron band smacked the inside of Hiematus’ elbow. The fighter barely hung on to his gladius as he lost the feeling in his fingers.

  Then Alerio bashed his shield back to the right. Hiematus stumbled while attempting to lock in his stance and defend against the full body slaps by the shield. All the while, he flexed his fingers on the hilt hoping the numbness would fade. But the side to side smacks of the shield accompanied by its insistent crowding drove him back on his heels.

  Hiematus attempted to reach over his rocking shield and stab downward. But Alerio’s shield jutted upward throwing the arm and the loosely held gladius out of position. Suddenly, the forward pressure lifted for an instant. Hiematus shifted his feet trying to assume a proper stance. His feet were almost in line with his shoulders, his grip improved and, he thought, he might get control of this fight.

  Alerio’s leg shot out and kicked Hiematus right knee. The leg folded and the swordsman crumpled to the sand.

  Expecting to defend against a gladius, Hiematus lashed out to fend off the blade. But it wasn’t a gladius that smashed into his helmet.

  The iron band on Alerio’s shield struck a glancing blow to Hiematus’ helmet. His head snapped to the side and before he could collect his thoughts, the band whipped back in the other direction. Back and forth the bottom of the shield smashed and the man’s head rocked in rhythm with the slashing of the iron band.

  It didn’t stop until the official wrapped Alerio up in a bear hug and wrestled him away from Hiematus.

  “Nenia,” Alerio screamed as he shook off the Sergeant’s arms and tossed his shield away. Then he drew his gladius, looked up, and spun in a circle seeking a target.

  Lance Corporal Caudini sprinted from the tunnel with a chicken tucked under an arm. He crossed the sand, gripped the animal by its feet, and threw the bird into the air.

  Alerio raced across the arena, used Hiematus’ chest as a launch point, and jumped into the air. With his gladius raised, he cleaved the soaring chicken in two. The fowl’s guts and blood followed him to the ground. Landing on both feet at first, Alerio dropped to his knees, thrust his arms into the air, and allowed his head to fall back.

  “Goddess Nenia. I thank you for sparing Hiematus’ life,” he cried out.

  ***

  Two additional Optios rushed onto the sand. After examining Hiematus to be sure he didn’t have a broken neck, they converged on the referee. The three NCOs walked over and stood looking down on the Legionary covered in chicken gore.

  “Death Caller, I’m going to declare you the winner of this fight,” the referee informed Alerio. “However, we’ve decided it’s too dangerous for you to continue in these games. Withdraw or I will eject you.”

  “Call a priest,” Alerio suggested.

  “You think a priest will plead your case?” one of the Sergeants questioned.

  “No. A priest will prevent a riot if you toss me out or I quit,” suggested Alerio.

  A runner was dispatched to summons a high-ranking priest. While waiting, the Optios talked, Alerio remained on his knees in the pose, and the crowd consumed vino.

  ***

  The spectators drank more, become bored, restless, and unruly. They settled a little when an old holy man limped into the forum. He crossed the forum floor and stopped at the arena.

  “Why was I called to the fighting sand?” the priest demanded.

  “Death Caller wants words with you,” the referee replied.

  “I didn’t choose the nickname, Priest,” Alerio advised as he dropped the gladius and brought his hands down. Taking the Cleric’s hands in his, he pressed a handful of coins into the priest’s palms. “It would be best for all involved if you waved off the Sergeant and escorted me from the forum.”

  A quick glance at the handful of gold coins brought a smile to the holy man’s face. It faded rapidly as the priest reached down and assisted Alerio to his feet.

  “The winner of the first fight of the second round is Alerio Sisera,” the Optio announced.

  Then, the priest poked a finger in the Sergeants’ face as if scolding the Optio. With an arm around Sisera’s shoulders, he escorted Alerio to the tunnel.

  “The Priest has declared that Death Caller is too close to the Goddess to continue,” the Sergeant exclaimed. “For the safety of all involved, the Priest has forbidden Sisera to fight today.”

  The stands erupted in angry responses. But Legionaries stood in shield walls with death a hand’s width away and none would argue with a priest’s decision.

  ***

  “Corporal Sisera, the wagons left before the last fight started,” the runner informed him. Then he held out a strip of beef on a stick. “For you, Tesserarius.”

  “Where is Lance Corporal Caudini?” Alerio inquired as he took the stick and bit into the juicy meat.

  “He went to find our betters,” the Private replied. “I’m here to help you get out of the armor.”

  ***

  By the time Caudini and the three money men returned, Alerio’s gear was resting on straw bales and he was finishing up the meat. The squad leader directed the Privates and each took a section of armor and the Corporal’s helmet leaving Alerio with his gladius.

  “We will stroll out of here not in a formation,” Alerio instructed. “Don’t rush but don’t delay. Once outside the Legion gates, we’ll jog and catch up with the wagons. Move out.”

  The six Legionaries took the trail from the forum, turned on the main road, and a quarter of a mile later, they passed through the gates.

  “Detail, double time, march,” Alerio ordered.

  They hit the Legion pace and soon reached the walls of Velia. Beyond the walls, the road branched in several directions. The detail took the northern route, heading towards the beach. Once on the shoreline, Alerio spotted the wagon tracks in the sand and pebbles. An urge to rush touched every Legionary at the sight but they resisted sprinting. The Legion jog, they all learned in recruit training, was a proven tactic for delivering men to a battlefield with enough strength left to fight. They didn’t expect a fight. But they had stolen a fortune in Legion gear and didn’t know what to expect.

  ***

  When the sun was low in the sky, the wagons came into view. They sat beside the beach road near a dry stream bed. Sprawled on the ground near cooking pots were with the squad members.

  “Corporal Sisera. I trust you and your detachment are hungry,” Grilli suggested.

  “I believe we are, mule handler,” Alerio replied.

  Bowls were handed to the arriving Legionaries. They lined up at cookfires and heaping ladles of stew filled the dishes and chunks of bread were passed out.

  “This has been a long day,” commented Alerio.

&nb
sp; “Corporal Sisera. You didn’t tell us you were Death Caller,” challenged Lance Corporal Aternus from 7th Squad.

  “If I had mentioned that I had a moniker, would it have made any difference?” inquired Alerio. “As a matter of fact, would any of you have understood the reference?”

  Faces twisted up in thought and after a while, Frentani from 8th spoke up, “No. But it would have been nice to know you were a celebrity.”

  “We walked in the Legion gate, no one cared about me,” Alerio described. “We went to the forum and nobody cared. It wasn’t until I announced my nickname that people cared. My celebrity is about the same as Lance Corporal Umbria’s fame.”

  “I’m not famous,” Umbria pleaded.

  “How many people would bet against you in a swim race?” Alerio asked.

  “No one with any brains,” 6th Squad’s Decanus replied. “I see, you are famous for one thing. But carrying death around in a backpack is a pretty heavy load.”

  “That it is,” Alerio agreed.

  From the south, horses’ hoofs pounded on the sand and gravel. Soon, a troop of cavalrymen and a Tribune rode up to the squads and the two wagons.

  “Who’s in command?” the staff officer demanded.

  “Sir, Corporal Alerio Sisera. I’m in charge of the detail,” Alerio reported with a salute.

  “Get those covers off. We will search those wagons,” ordered the Tribune while pointing at the cavalrymen.

  Four dismounted, broke into pairs, and marched to the wagons.

  “What’s this about, Tribune?”

  “Mesalla Legion’s armory was robbed this afternoon,” the staff officer replied. “Have any wagons passed your detachment?”

  “No, sir. We’ve been alone the entire trip from Velia. Although we did see several wagons headings east,” Alerio said. Then he shrugged and nodded his head as if figuring something out. “Did you say Mesalla’s armory?”

  “That’s right,” the Tribune answered. But he wasn’t looking at the Corporal, his eyes were on the cavalrymen peeling back the covers from the wagons.

  “There’s an issue,” Alerio advised. “We’re attached to Crassus Legions. We wouldn’t have any reason to be in Mesalla Legion’s area.”

  The mounted Legionaries began shifting bags of vegetables and apples. From side to side and front to back, they exposed the floorboards then moved the sacks to lay bare another section.

  “Nothing here except vegetables,” a cavalry Optio reported.

  “Mount up,” the Tribune ordered. “We’ll go back to Velia and search eastward.”

  “May the Goddess Fortūna guide you,” Alerio called as the troop turned their horses and kicked their mounts into motion. Then he whispered. “And may she smile on us.”

  “Get up, pack it up, and get on the road people,” Lance Corporal Caudini ordered. “We have six miles to the Century area and I don’t want to do it in the dark.”

  The wagons rolled out and the Legionaries fell in behind them. Far to the north, the tracks of a single, heavily loaded wagon pulled by four mules appeared in the sand.

  “How far up did you have the men brush out the tracks?” Alerio asked Frentani.

  “About a mile and a half,” the Decanus of 8th Squad replied. “Any further than that and the cavalry would have spotted them anyway.”

  “I agree,” Corporal Sisera said.

  ***

  The sun hung low over the water when the Century’s tents came into view.

  “Lance Corporal Frentani. Did you fill out our shopping list completely?” Alerio questioned.

  “To the exact piece of equipment,” the Decanus assured him.

  “Squad leaders on me,” Alerio instructed. The four Lance Corporals walked over and strolled along with their Tesserarius. “Create a circuit. From the tents to the sea, to the wagon and back to the tents. I want every piece of old gear taken out to deep water and sunk. Then have the men come back to the wagon and collect the new issues.”

  “But Corporal, we can sell the old stuff,” Pentri Umbria suggested.

  “No. Every piece of used gear needs to disappear,” instructed Alerio. “Double check your contuberniums. Everything goes, no argument or hoarding.”

  When the wagons left the beach and bounced up to the mule handler’s area, the drivers pulled in next to the mule-drawn wagon. Further up the beach, the Legionaries left the shoreline and marched to their tents.

  “Stulte. Tescum. On me,” Alerio called to the squad leaders from 9th and 10th. “Follow the Samnites lead and dump your old gear.”

  “But we can sell it,” Decanus Stulte protested.

  “You could also get caught with extra gear and die on the wood,” Alerio countered. “No exceptions. Stick with the plan.”

  As the squads went to their tents, selected their old equipment, and carried it to the beach, the first four squads came out and watched.

  “What are you doing?” Ostrei asked.

  “We’re washing our armor, helmets, and shields,” Caudini replied.

  “At dusk?”

  “Corporal Sisera’s orders.”

  That brought a chuckle from the Decani of 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Squads. But the smiles transitioned to curiosity when the first set of Legionaries returned to the camp with new, shiny equipment.

  Alerio watched the process until half the contuberniums had returned to their tents and stacked their new shields. Confident the squads were getting everything in order, he walked to the NCOs’ tent and threw aside the flap.

  Chapter 12 – Pay Call

  By candlelight, Alerio took inventory of the Century’s funds. As expected, the coins and the balance sheet didn’t match. When he last checked, there was just enough to meet payroll. Now, there wasn’t enough in the chest to pay all the Legionaries, mule handlers, the Optio, and the Centurion. It was a ham-handed conspiracy but effective enough to cast blame on the honesty of the Century’s Tesserarius. His one question revolved around how Megellus and Gustavi planned to blame him for the theft.

  He moved to his bedding and belongings and patted them down searching for lumps and hard bumps. When he couldn’t find a stash of stolen coins, he relaxed. Maybe they simply wanted to get rid of him. Then he began to pick up his personal gear. Again, no extra weight in his pouches or spare clothing signaled the illicit placement of coins.

  Alerio had pretty much exhausted all of the likely search areas. For comfort, he placed a hand on his dual gladius rig and idly turned one of the hilts. The steel blade scraped on metal. Testing the second gladius, he heard the same sound. After smoothing out a blanket, he upended the rig and pulled the blades. Gold coins came tumbling out of both sheaths.

  Someone had painstakingly fed the stolen coins into the gaps between the blades and the sheaths. A quick count showed that not all the missing coins were accounted for and the payroll funds were still short. Thankfully, he had the gambling winnings to add to the funds. But first, he needed to adjust the Century’s accounting forms.

  ***

  “Megellus Century. Get up and get out,” Optio Gustavi announced as he walked between the tents. There was a lightness to his voice and he seemed pleased with himself. “Get up and get out. It’s payday.”

  His voice started at the Centurion’s tent and climbed in intensity as he approached the NCOs’ tent.

  “Tesserarius Sisera. Get up, you are wasting daylight,” Gustavi stated from outside the tent. “The Legionaries and handlers want to get their pay.”

  His almost manic style of speaking was obviously as false as his enthusiasm for getting the pay distributed. Alerio had no delusions about the real reason for the Sergeant’s excitement. This could be the last day Corporal Sisera would be around to counter the Centurion’s plans for the Century.

  “Good morning, Optio Gustavi,” Alerio greeted the NCO when he pushed through the tent flap. In his arms were the Century’s fund chest, a quill and ink box, two camp stools, and a folding desk. “Are there any half pay punishments due?”
r />   “No, Tesserarius Sisera. Everyone receives full pay,” the Sergeant declared.

  The two NCOs marched through the camp. Their passage was watched by the Legionaries and handlers standing in front of their tents. When the NCOs reached the Centurion’s tent, Alerio put down his load and set up the table.

  “Will Centurion Megellus be joining us?” Alerio inquired while placing the chest on the edge of the table.

  “The Centurion will be along shortly,” Gustavi answered. “We have his permission to begin without him.”

  “What order is your pleasure, Optio?” asked Alerio.

  “Let’s start with 10th Squad,” declared Gustavi. “They have worked hard this pay period.”

  During their year of service in the Legion, Legionaries would receive four payments. This was the initial payment. The next two would be adjusted for food and the cost of replacement equipment. Any bounties or bonuses the Century earned would be included in the final payout.

  “Decanus Tescum, present your contubernium,” Alerio ordered. “You will sign as a witness that the Legionaries in your charge were paid.”

  The 10th Squad lined up. One by one, Alerio had them sign or make their mark by their name as he counted out a quarter of their base pay. Once the squad members had their coins, Lance Corporal Tescum signed and received his pay as a squad leader.

  “Decanus Stulte, present your contubernium,” instructed Alerio.

  While the 9th accepted their pay, Optio Gustavi shifted uncomfortably. As if impatient for the process to be over, he attempted to look beyond the Tesserarius and get a glimpse into the fund’s chest. But it rested on the far end of the table and he couldn’t judge the number of coins in the bottom.

  “Decanus Frentani, present your contubernium.”

  ***

  The sun climbed into the sky as the squads lined up, accepted their pay, and moved away. They were down to the last four squads with the Optio, Centurion, and the mule handlers to follow.

  “Decanus Enitui, present your contubernium,” Alerio ordered. “You…”

  “I know how this works,” Enitui sneered. “4th Squad, line up.”

  Alerio laid down the quill and stared at the squad leader. Even when the eight Legionaries were lined up, he continued to glare at them.