Infinite Courage

by J. Clifton Slater

  ***

  “Ambassador Sergius, the Legion is in sight,” Megellus reported after consulting with Corporal Sisera.

  While the Tesserarius rushed off to take charge of the east gate and the barracks defenses on that side of the compound, the officer crossed the room while speaking with the diplomat.

  “Excellent, send a runner for Councilman Grapho, immediately,” the diplomat responded.

  “Sir, we are preparing to defend against an attack by the Centuripe militia.”

  “A competent military man would have secured the surrounding area,” Octavius Sergius accused. “But I shouldn’t expect that level of professionalism from you. And if the Legion hasn’t arrived, and I am not safe, why did you tell me the Legion was here?”

  “I thought you wanted to know they were in sight, Ambassador,” Megellus replied. He walked away biting his tongue. The infantry officer almost added. ‘In sight, you pompous cūlus. Not here.’ But he didn’t.

  While the Centurion lost a verbal fight with the Ambassador, at the east and west entrances to the barracks, shields clashed, spears jabbed seeking flesh, and arrows filled the sky.

  ***

  Scores of arrows flew from buildings along the street. They fell among the Legionaries at the gates and into the shields of those in reserve. Answering the flights of arrows, 5th and 7th Squads launched twice as many from the barracks rooftop. The aggressive response suppressed the militia’s air assault and the archery war was soon reduced to individuals against a mass of Legionary launched retaliation.

  “If only the training Optio could see me now,” a Legionary for 5th Squad boasted. He drew the bow, launched an arrow at a window of a building far down the street. Snatching up another, he notched it, drew back, aimed, and released. “Reserve your arrows, he used to say, save your inventory, make every shot count. It’s good to control your enemy’s armory. Isn’t it, Decanus?”

  “I expect you to expend as much of Centuripe’s arrow inventory as possible,” Lance Corporal Caudini replied. “At least they won’t have them to use on the Legion. Besides, based on that last shot, you need the practice.”

  In some part of their brains, the Legionaries at ground level appreciated the Legion’s mandatory archery training. But they were too busy at the moment to give it conscious thought.

  Two Legionaries from 8th Squad caught spear tips in their sides. As they fell, soldiers crowded forward attempting to breach the east gate.

  “Palinurus, fill that gap,” Alerio shouted.

  The big Private shouldered aside his squad mates and stepped into the forward rank. Hands reached down and pulled the injured men back and out from under his feet.

  Alerio watched the large man’s bulk stabilize the front rank for a heartbeat. However, the militiamen seeing the opening, stacked and surged towards where the two men had fallen. Only Palinurus’ strength held back the wave. And as with all waves, if stopped, it attempted to flow around the barrier. One side was the immovable frame of the ten-shield wide east gate. On the other side, men of normal stature fought to hold back the rushing militiamen. None were as massive as Private Palinurus and the Legion ranks bent.

  Fearing his defensive line would collapse, Corporal Sisera adjusted his grip on the Centuripe shield, drew his gladius and, with a roar, charged forward.

  A soldier shoved forward by the weight of the men behind him, glanced to his left and his mouth fell open. Beside him was a huge Legionary. If he had known he would be this far forward, he would have led with his spear and gutted the big man. Unfortunately, the shaft of his spear was in use pounding on the shields in front of him.

  He turned his head. Over his shoulder, he shouted to be heard above the noise of battle, “Kill the giant Latian.”

  The spearman behind pulled back his spear, adjust the direction of the tip, and…

  After directing the death of the large Legionary, the soldier looked back to the front. Suddenly, a rising shield connected with his and the soldier was lifted into the air before being thrown back into the spearman trying to stab Palinurus.

  Having driven the soldier back into the men massed behind him, Alerio stepped up beside Palinurus. There the Legion NCO rose to his full height and began smashing with his shield and stabbing with the short Legion blade.

  “Palinurus. Together,” Alerio instructed. And the big Legionary began to match his Tesserarius’ strikes and bashes. “9th Squad, stand by.”

  To the Corporal’s left, Squad Leader Stulte repeated the warning. His pivot men called out the phrase and the eight men of the 9th readied themselves for the next set of commands.

  “Squad, brace, step back, step back, advance, advance, advance,” Alerio ordered.

  Bowed and bent offline, the members of the 9th went from fighting as individuals against the soldiers in front of them to a motionless, solid line of shields. The unmoving Legionaries posed for three heartbeats. During the time of inactivity, the militiamen increased the intensity of their attack and the pressure on the shield wall.

  The brace gave each Legionary a few moments to gather his strength and get his mind focused. Then the brace ended. As a unit, the eight men of the squad stepped back two measured paces.

  When the pushback against their shields suddenly lifted, the soldiers in the front rank stumbled forward into the newly formed gap. Before the militiamen had a chance to right themselves, the next command released the craftsmen of war to ply their trade.

  “Advance, advance, advance.”

  Shields smacked into the off-balanced militiamen throwing them into the soldiers behind them. Almost instantly, the shields withdrew and the gladii lashed out. Not once, but three times and by the third, the front three ranks of the soldiers were bleeding, dead, or in the process of being stomped to death.

  “Straighten your line and hold,” Alerio commanded.

  He wanted to release the Legionaries to chase the retreating militiamen. But with the limited number of men under his command, they couldn’t safely go beyond the walls of the compound.

  “You fight good,” Palinurus stated, indicating the bodies piled up in front of them.

  “As do you, big man,” Alerio said returning the compliment. “You know you are covered in blood, right?”

  “Ah, Tesserarius. You look like a priest after a sacrifice,” offered Palinurus.

  “She’ll take it,” Alerio remarked while stepping back and allowing men from the 10th Squad to fill the space.

  “Think they’ll be back, Corporal?” Lance Corporal Frentani inquired.

  “For more punishment by the 25th?” Alerio asked loudly. “Not unless they are sadistic and enjoy getting thrashed by good Republic steel.”

  Alerio assumed after a rest, the militia would attack again. In order to keep everyone in place, he only allowed for water and snacking on hardtack or biscuits. Dirty, coated in streaks of blood, and sweat, the Legionaries waited for the soldiers to return.

  Unseen by Corporal Sisera and his squads, the situation at the west gate was the same. Until it wasn’t.

  ***

  Optio Megellus also held his squads at their post waiting for the next assault. Then the soldiers far down the street parted and a group of men in robes strolled through the opening.

  As they approached the west gate, Megellus could see they were six older men.

  “I am Chairman Grapho and this is the Centuripe City Council,” one exclaimed indicating the other five. “You will escort us to Ambassador Sergius.”

  Sergeant Gustavi along with six guards escorted the city Councilmen into the barracks. While walking the stairs to the chamber commandeered by Ambassador Sergius, trumpets blared.

  “Is this a trick?” Gustavi demanded.

  “Calm yourself,” instructed Grapho. “It’s only a signal for the soldiers to fall back. Had you injured any of the council, our militia would have revenged us.”

  The Centuripe units pulled back from the west gate. On the other side of the compound, Alerio watched them fall bac
k from the east gate.

  “I guess they’ve had enough,” commented Lance Corporal Tescum.

  “It appears that way,” Palinurus remarked.

  “Let’s wait and see,” Alerio advised.

  ***

  “There is a Legion of the Republic at your gates and a heavy infantry Century holding your main barracks,” Sergius exclaimed when the civilian leaders of Centuripe shuffled into the room. “I will accept your surrender, your offer of tribute, and trade terms. There is nothing more to discuss.”

  Octavius Sergius folded his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at the representatives.

  “Ambassador Sergius. There is one issue that must be resolved before we can move forward,” one Councilman declared while stepping in front of the other five.

  “And what issue is that, Councilman Grapho?”

  “Last night, three of your men attacked the pottery factory,” Grapho replied. “A fortune in Kentoripa vases were destroyed. We’ve lost months of work and precious inventory. Our traders have orders that cannot be filled. What do you propose to do about our loss?”

  Sergius looked over the Councilmen’s heads to where the officer for the 25th Century stood.

  “Centurion. What do you know about the destruction of those valuable commodities?”

  “We didn’t engage in any area other than the barracks, sir,” Megellus responded. “I don’t know anything about a factory.”

  Optio Gustavi leaned in, tugged on the officer’s arm, and whispered close to his ear.

  With a sour look on his face, the infantry officer corrected his statement, “We did have a pursuit of a hostile force during the assault. However, I’m not familiar with the details.”

  “Then who is familiar with the details?” demanded Sergius. He placed his fists on his hips and glared at the officer.

  “Corporal Sisera, Ambassador.”

  “Is he here?” Sergius questioned. He craned his neck and glanced around the room.

  “No, Ambassador,” Megellus informed the diplomat. Turning to one of the Legionaries he assigned to guard the Republic’s envoy, he ordered. “Find Sisera and tell him to get here right away.”

  “As swiftly as if Mercury himself carried the Tesserarius,” the Legionary assured Megellus.

  The Private rushed out of the room and before the dust raised by his boots settled, the Ambassador began to complain.

  “Where is he?” insisted Sergius. Then he raised his voice. “I want the Corporal here, in front of me, to explain his actions.”

  The Centurion meant to say Corporal Sisera was being sent for but, in light of the rude treatment by the Ambassador, his brain fumbled the clarification.

  “The God Mercury is bringing him, sir,” Megellus blurted out.

  “You invoke the name of a God? You’ll add blasphemy to your incompetence?” charged Sergius.

  Centurion Fenoris Megellus began to shake at the insolent treatment and the accusation. His Century had completed their mission, rescued the Ambassador, and kept the ungrateful diplomat safe throughout the night and against attacks this morning. Not just safe. They had restored Octavius Sergius to a position of power.

  “I asked you a question,” berated the diplomat as if his impatient questioning deserved answers.

  Before Centurion Megellus ruined his career with a biting retort, the doors on the eastern end of the chamber swung open and crashed against the walls. Shocked at the disturbance from the lightly used entrance, the Ambassador, the Councilmen, the Centurion, and the Legionaries on guard duty jerked their heads in that direction.

  The God of War, obviously fresh from battle based on the dents and stubs of arrow shafts in his shield, strutted over the threshold. Blood stains and gore covered his armor. The room reverberated as if a thunderclap when the warrior slammed one filthy hobnailed boot on the floor. Then, he saluted.

  “Centurion Megellus. I apologize for the doors. I didn’t realize they were so well oiled. You sent for me, sir?”

  Chapter 23 – Kentoripa Pottery

  “What is the meaning of this?” Sergius uttered in disgust.

  The Centurion picked up on the reason and added his voice to the complaint.

  “You could have cleaned up before presenting yourself, Tesserarius,” Megellus scolded.

  “I apologize, sir. I was informed that the matter was urgent,” Alerio replied. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go wash.”

  He was half twisted to the door when Megellus continued, “No, Corporal Sisera, you’re already here. Tell us about the vase factory?”

  “Sir, I’m not clear on what you’re looking for,” protested Alerio turning back to face the room. He thought for a heartbeat and offered. “Are you asking about the death of Captain Cheir?”

  “The death of a Centuripe officer is unimportant,” announced Ambassador Sergius.

  Centurion Megellus hid his grin with a hand. Last night, the diplomat wanted out of the city until he heard about the death of Cheir. Now, he was full of bluster, thanks to the Legionaries defending him.

  Sergius got to the heart of his concern by asking, “Corporal Sisera, I want to know why you destroyed the Kentoripa vases?”

  “Ambassador, I don’t know what Kentoripa vases are,” Alerio pleaded. “I was in pursuit of Captain Cheir and he ran into a clay manufacturing facility. I followed him, we fought, and he died. It’s that simple, sir.”

  “There is nothing simple about your actions. I am disgusted and at a loss for words,” Sergius professed. The Ambassador turned his back on the chamber, strolled to a chair, turned, and sat as if exhausted. To accent his fatigue, he buried his face in the palms of his hands. Then he looked up and asked. “Councilman Grapho, please enlighten the ignorant Legionary.”

  Centurion Megellus made fists with his hands, willed his feet to remain rooted to the floor, and worked to keep his lips sealed. Shifting his eyes over to Corporal Sisera, he recognized the same struggle to maintain control.

  The Councilman rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers while walking to shelving on a wall. Placed on the gilded shelves were vases. Each was thin sided and covered in colored pictures on layers of tinted clay that overlaid the vessel.

  Grapho reached up, lifted one of the vases off the shelf, and held it up lovingly in both hands.

  “Kentoripa pottery is sought after by people of taste in every city in the civilized world. It is so exquisite; we describe each piece as if it was alive,” he proclaimed. He guided a finger just off the fine clay surface and explained. “The opening of the vase, we call the mouth; the stem is the neck; the slope from the neck to the body resembles and is denoted as the shoulder, and the base is known as the foot.”

  He carefully placed the vase back on the shelf. Then he dropped his arms and lowered his head.

  “Our craftsmen start with the smoothest of clays and the finest of sand to form the shapes,” Grapho described by cupping his hand as if holding a substance. “But the secret to the strength of Kentoripa ceramic is the baking process. Initially, the clay shapes are cooked in vented kilns. At this point, the entire vase turns red in color. But then, our craftsmen seal the vents and allow the heat to increase. At this point, the vases turn black and the areas painted with the colored clay transforms into a glassy substance. Finally, the vents are reopened. The unpainted zones of the vessel became red again while the painted areas retained a glossy black hue.”

  The Councilman walked in a circle shaking his head. Bending at the waist, he pointed to the floor as if showing different piles.

  “Only a few craftsmen hold the secrets to our process. But understand, it takes weeks to create a perfect piece of Kentoripa ceramic,” he said while spreading his fingers and indicating different areas of the floor. “But you, Legionary, marched into the factory and swept newly formed clay vases off the workbenches where they crashed to the ground. And you crushed vessels in the process of being painted. However, your cruelest act was using your sword’s blade to smash stacks of finish
ed vases. My heart hurts at the willful destruction and the loss of product worth thousands and thousands in gold coins.”

  Lifting his head and standing straighter, the Councilman looked towards the Ambassador.

  “You talk of tribute and trade terms,” Grapho stated. “I ask, how are we to be compensated for our losses?”

  Octavius Sergius peered at the ceiling as if seeking divine guidance. After a few moments, he bit his lip, nodded his head as if having received an answer, and lowered his eyes.

  “The Republic will wave two years of tribute payments,” The Ambassador proposed. “But I expect below market rates in trade for the products from your sulfur mines and your salt mines. And a fair price for your grain and, of course, Kentoripa vases.”

  “We can work with those terns,” Grapho responded. “And now to finalize the proceedings. Ambassador Octavius Sergius, the independent city of Centuripe, formally requests a treaty with your Republic.”

  “As a representative of the Senate of the Republic, I offer a treaty for the mutual benefits of our city-states,” Sergius vowed.

  ***

  Moments later after setting a day for further negotiations, the six councilmen filed out of the room. One of Sergius’ staff rushed over with a ceramic mug of vino.

  “An excellent solution, as always, Ambassador,” the assistant gushed.

  Hearing the word solution, Centurion Megellus marched across the room and stopped in front of the diplomat.

  “Sir. If you are ready, we’ll join the Legion,” the infantry officer suggested. “I assume you’ll want to inform the General of the progress.”

  “Centurion. I’m not going anywhere,” Sergius declared. “Send a messenger to the Legion and have the Senior Tribune attend me. I want to inform him of your incompetence and the barbaric behavior of your Legionaries. Dismissed.”

  Act 6

  Chapter 24 – Abandoned in a Sea of Plenty

  Alerio stood on the roof eyeing the street as it twisted downhill and vanished behind the buildings on the lower level of Centuripe. While his head was turned to the west and his eyes stared in that direction, his brain wasn’t enjoying the view. Other matters occupied his imagination and demanded his concentration.