Infinite Courage

by J. Clifton Slater

  “I can’t say I’ll miss this place,” Caricini Aternus said breaking into the Corporal’s thoughts.

  “I’m sorry Lance Corporal. What did you say?”

  From the location of the lower buildings, two Centuries of Legionaries marched into view. Disciplined and precise, they came around the bend and up the road.

  “I said, it will be good to get off the roof and out of this inhospitable city,” replied the Decanus of 7th Squad. He wiped the back of his neck with a cloth and pointed at the approaching Legionaries. “Among other things, this archery duty has drawbacks. Chief among them, there’s no shade on the high ground.”

  Around the roof, Legionaries from the 5th and 7th Squads sat under makeshift covers. Those on watch stood in the hot afternoon sun holding pieces of cloth up with one hand while gripping their bows in the other.

  “How are Private Tatis’ wounds?” Alerio inquired.

  “He’s healing but any more than a stroll to and back from the latrine and he’s exhausted,” Aternus reported. “He’ll need transportation.”

  “As will eleven others,” Alerio added. It was the transportation of the injured men of the 25th that occupied his mind. Looking around, he noted the condemnation and accusation in the faces of the Legionaries on the roof. “Now that reinforcements have finally been sent, I’m going to see about a wagon or two.”

  “Tesserarius. No one except those wrapped in the arms of Coalemus thinks this is your fault,” Aternus offered.

  “Decanus. That’s nice of you to say,” Alerio responded as he started for the stairs. Before descending, he stopped and smiled at the Lance Corporal. “However, for that to be true, over half of the Century would need to be making offerings to the God of Stupid. Including the Optio, Centurion, and the Ambassador. And I don’t believe that to be true.”

  When Alerio dropped below roof level and out of sight, one of the Legionaries from the 5th Squad spit on the deck.

  “There’s a pub just downhill. Will they serve us? No,” he complained. “There’s a wealth of fresh meat, bread, and vegetables in the market. Will they sell to us? No. And all because of…”

  “Don’t say it, Private. Don’t even think it,” challenged Decanus Caudini. “Because if you do, I’ll throw you off this roof. Then, I’ll jump down and kick the merda out of you for good measure.”

  “Ah, Lance Corporal Caudini, why are you defending the Tesserarius?”

  “We snuck an entire Century into a hostile city,” Telesia Caudini explained. “And although we have some badly hurt, we took a barracks compound from almost two hundred soldiers. And because of Corporal Sisera’s planning and tactics, we are all sitting here waiting to be relieved. So shut your mouth. Or have you suddenly grown wings?”

  “I’m good right where I am, Decanus.”

  ***

  On the second floor of the barracks, Alerio turned down a long hallway and marched towards the doorway to a meeting chamber. Ambassador Sergius had taken over the large room and declared it and the entire barracks as the temporary property of the Republic. With a Legion of heavy and light infantry camped just outside the gates of the city, and infantrymen guarding the walls of the compound, the Ambassador could do just about anything he wanted.

  Unfortunately, his largesse didn’t extend to the men of the 25th Century. And despite the snide remarks and harsh language directed at the Century’s officer, Octavius Sergius insisted Centurion Megellus stay at his side during conferences with the locals. As a result, any meetings with the infantry officer took place in full view and within hearing distance of the Ambassador.

  Alerio entered the room, marched to the end of the conference table, and saluted.

  “Centurion Megellus. A word, sir,” he requested.

  The Centurion stood off to the left of the Ambassador’s chair. Alerio intentionally stared at the officer and didn’t make eye contact with the diplomat.

  “Corporal Sisera, the man who cost the Republic a fortune,” Sergius sneered when he noticed the Legion NCO. “What is it now? Have you collapsed one of Centuripe’s salt mine shafts?”

  Alerio bit his tongue, remained silent, and stood rigid at the end of the long table. A blank expression graced his face while waiting for directions from his officer. When the Ambassador lowered his head and began reading a piece of parchment, Megellus lifted a hand and made an out-with-it motion.

  “Sir. There are two Centuries coming up the road. They are more than likely our replacements,” Alerio reported. “I’d like permission to leave the compound and procure transportation for our wounded.”

  Centurion Megellus’ lips parted, he inhaled preparing to speak but Octavius Sergius spoke first.

  “Want to go carousing, get drunk, and brag about your exploits in Centuripe?” suggested the Ambassador. “Maybe challenge a few locals so you can add notches to your blade? After you’ve sated your taste for blood, I imagine you’ll steal a couple of wagons and teams of horses?”

  Megellus stiffened as did the Ambassador’s staff and the four Centuripe businessmen at the table. The 25th Century had problems and no doubt Corporal Sisera was about to offer a solution. But the diplomat’s petty outburst stifled the exchange and the infantry officer waited for Sisera to reply harshly and end his career and maybe his life.

  “Ambassador Octavius Sergius, your estimate of the Century’s transportation needs is correct,” Alerio responded. “I’d like to point out that we have a shortage of food and beverage for the Century. As you are aware, we can’t purchase supplies because our Century’s funds are with Crassus Legion North. And the few coins we have will not pay the inflated prices. We are forced to survive on the barracks’ stores of salted swine, sir.”

  Alerio paused waiting for the Ambassador or his Centurion to add something or correct him. He prayed that the Goddess Concordia would drop in and put everyone in an agreeable frame of mind. When no light of fellowship brightened their eyes, he continued.

  “Three days ago, the Century expected to be relieved. When that didn’t happen, the Legionaries did the best they could,” Alerio restated things the two men already knew. “But, as I’ve said, we have eleven wounded men who, not only require transportation but require better medical care. I am simply requesting permission to go into the city and procure two wagons for men injured while pulling the Ambassador’s tiny, raisin-like cōleī out of the fire, sir.”

  Centurion Megellus swallowed hard at the indelicate version of the diplomat’s rescue. When Sergius didn’t say anything, the infantry officer relaxed. Then, one of his staff members leaned in and whispered in the Ambassador’s ear.

  “What did you say about me?” Sergius demanded, his tan face turning a deeper shade. “I’ll have you charged, punished, and crucified.”

  “That Ambassador is your prerogative,” Alerio replied. “But not until I do my job and get transportation for eleven wounded Legionaries. After they are out of this city and under the care of the Legion doctors, you can do what you must.”

  “Centurion Megellus. I demand that you arrest this insufferable reprobate, at once,” Sergius shouted. “It will be done now and not later.”

  “What should be done now?” inquired a Senior Centurion from the doorway.

  “Who are you?” questioned Sergius.

  “Centurion Edidi, Senior Centurion of Mesalla Legion East,” the officer replied. “And I am not in the habit of repeating myself.”

  “I want this NCO arrested, Senior Centurion,” Sergius commanded.

  The Senior infantry officer cocked his head to the side as if he was puzzled by the situation.

  “I’m Centurion Megellus of the 25th Century. The Ambassador wants my Corporal Sisera placed under guard and punished.”

  The senior infantry officer for the Legion shifted his focus to Alerio.

  “And why Corporal Sisera, are you to be arrested?” Edidi questioned.

  “Senior Centurion. I broke some valuable possessions and offended a lot of locals. And apparently, the Ambas
sador as well, sir,” Alerio reported. “I’m not disputing the charges. But we have eleven seriously wounded that require transportation.”

  Edidi stomped fully into the room, edged by Alerio, and power walked the length of the table. While ignoring the Ambassador, the Senior Centurion stopped nose to nose with Fenoris Megellus.

  “You have eleven seriously injured infantrymen rotting in this prison?” he barked. “What kind of officer doesn’t provide the best treatment available for his Legionaries?”

  “Well, Senior Centurion, the Ambassador said…”

  “The Ambassador is a representative of the Senate,” Edidi explained. “We are the Legion. We enforce the will of the Senate. Part of that is protecting Ambassadors and trade delegations. But we do not take orders from them.”

  “Now see here, Centurion,” Sergius protested. Edidi stepped away from Megellus and jammed a finger into the Ambassador’s chest.

  “That’s Senior Centurion Edidi, Octavius Sergius. If you cross me, I will pull all of my Centuries from this city. Let’s see how much respect you get sitting at this table alone,” warned the Senior Centurion. Then, over his shoulder, he asked. “Tesserarius Sisera. Don’t you have a job to do?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then get your swinging mentula out of here and do it,” Edidi ordered. “And don’t come back until you have a plan to transports the wounded infantrymen.”

  “Yes, Senior Centurion.”

  ***

  Considering the animosity towards the Legion, and especially Alerio by the citizens of Centuripe, Optio Gustavi wasn’t surprised when his Corporal strolled back empty-handed.

  “That didn’t take long,” observed the Sergeant. “It must be rough out there. And the prices? They must be sky high if you can get someone to do business with a Legionary.”

  “It wasn’t too difficult, Optio,” Alerio informed the NCO. “The wagons and ponies will be here in the morning.”

  Alerio and Gustavi walked into the part of the barracks claimed by the 25th. The newly arrived Centuries, having assumed guard duty on the roof and walls, were spread throughout the rest of the barracks. Even Centurion Megellus had been replaced by two Centurions as company for the Ambassador.

  The wounded were being attended to in the corner of one large room. Several squads occupied the rest of the room and the other contuberniums slept in adjacent spaces. After checking on the injured, Alerio and his Optio walked to a courtyard and settled in around a pot of steaming salted pork. For two days, the meat had been a treat. At the end of day three, they missed grain, vegetables, and vino.

  “Where did you find the wagons?” inquired Gustavi. He used a finger to dislodge a piece of gristle. Once free, he spit the offending tissue into the campfire.

  “An independent trading house,” Alerio replied.

  “It didn’t take you long,” observed Gustavi. “It seemed like you left and returned almost immediately.”

  “It’s nice to know I dazzled you with my brilliance,” suggested Alerio. “To be truthful, the negotiations took longer than you could imagine.”

  “An impressive job, Tesserarius,” proclaimed the Optio. He pushed off the ground and excused himself. “I’m going to report to the Centurion and inform him that transportation has been arranged.”

  “Ask him why the Ambassador treats the Century like merda?” remarked Alerio.

  “I’ll do nothing of the kind,” Gustavi said as he walked off.

  Alerio leaned back and allowed himself to relax. When he left the barracks, he didn’t go in search of a stable. Rather, he wrote a note and tied it to a stone. His trip out of the compound consisted of a stroll down the road and a single pass in front of the Golden Valley Trading House. Once he dropped the stone and note on the side of the road, he marched back uphill and directly into the barracks compound.

  The apprentice would retrieve the message and deliver it to Heteros. It was up to the sect of assassins to decide how to fill the request without bringing down the ire of the citizens.

  Captain Cheir died publicly and, as it turned out, at a great personal cost to Alerio and his Century. Three wagons and horses in payment for the killing wasn’t too high a price to ask.

  ***

  Late in the afternoon, another Century marched up the road. Larger than a standard Century and more solemn, they were veterans who projected an aura of menace. When they came through the west gate, without a single command, squads broke ranks and took over strategic positions around and inside the barrack. No one voiced a complaint or lodged a protest because the 1st Century’s single responsibility was the protection of the Legion’s General and the battle commander.

  Consul/General Valerius Mesalla commanded his western Legion in southern Sicilia. Without Mesalla in attendance at Centuripe, 1st Century focused all of their attention on guarding Colonel Ruscus, the battle commander of Mesalla Legion East.

  “I’m going to inspect the security, Colonel,” 1st Centurion Irrisus informed the battle commander.

  “Very good. I don’t expect my meeting with the Ambassador will take long,” Ruscus offered.

  “We’ll be ready to leave when you are, sir.”

  Ruscus marched into the main structure leaving Irrisus glancing around at the exterior of the compound. His eyes caught something suspicious in a courtyard just off the entrance. As far as he knew, a detached Century had taken the barracks and were still here despite two Centuries from the Legion sent to relieve them.

  He spotted men around a campfire who appeared to be Samnites, not Latians. Curiosity and caution guided his feet and he moved in their direction. It wasn’t the men specifically, it was the stacked Centuripe militia armor, helmets, shields, and spears behind each man that drew his attention.

  “What’s in the pot?” Irrisus asked the men.

  “Salted pork, 1st Centurion,” replied one of them. “It’s all they had in the militia stores.”

  “And who are you?”

  “Lance Corporal Frentani, 8th Squad, 25th Century, Crassus Legion North,” one of the men at the campfire replied.

  “You took this compound using militia equipment?” Irrisus inquired.

  “No, sir. We took the war gear later,” Frentani described. He stood, drew a gladius, and caught a bunch of the woolen cloth in his other hand. Pulling and stretching the material out of shape, he explained. “We attacked with a blade and what we were wearing. According to Corporal Sisera, clothing doesn’t define the journeymen warrior. And infantrymen, if nothing else are craftsmen of war. So, we went to work with what we had.”

  “An interesting thought, Decanus Frentani. Don’t let me keep you from your dinner.”

  “It’s alright, sir. We’re all sick of salted pork. We eat it because it’s all we have.”

  Before Irrisus could question the diet, Centurion Megellus marched from the building.

  “1st Centurion, can I help you?”

  “Legionaries have ration requirements,” Irrisus informed him.

  “We are a long way from home and without Century funds,” Megellus began to explain. “Plus…”

  A Legionary stepped from the main entrance, spied Irrisus, and shouted. “1st Centurion, Colonel Ruscus would like to see you.”

  “I’ve got to go. But here, buy your Legionaries some grain and vegetables,” Irrisus instructed while handing Megellus a sack of coins.

  Then he jogged to the entrance and went inside.

  “What is that, sir?” inquired the squad leader from the 8th.

  “It’s an addition to the Century’s food fund, Lance Corporal Frentani,” Megellus replied while holding up the pouch.

  “Doesn’t he know no one in this city will sell us grain?”

  “I didn’t have time to tell the 1st Centurion,” the infantry officer explained while stuffing the coins under his militia armor.

  ***

  “Halt,” challenged the sentry.

  In the shadows before dawn, the Legionary looked through the west gate at t
hree approaching wagons. Joined by his Sergeant of the Guard, they walked out and inspected the empty wagons. After completing a circuit of the transports, the NCO marched back to the gate and raised an arm.

  “Alright, bring them in,” he shouted.

  But the horses stood unmoving except for two that pawed the ground.

  “Drivers, bring them in,” the NCO repeated with more force.

  Curiously, the wagons sat unmoving. In response to the nonactivity, the sentry walked from the gate and approached the first wagon.

  “Optio. The drivers have left,” the Legionary reported.

  Peering at the empty seat of the first wagon, he noticed a piece of parchment. After plucking it from the bench, the guard walked it back to the gate.

  “What have you got there?”

  “It seems to be a message of some kind,” the Legionary replied as he held the missive up to a lantern and read the writing. “These wagons belong to a Corporal Sisera. Whoever he is.”

  “He’s the Tesserarius for the 25th Century,” the NCO replied.

  “The special unit they sent over from Crassus Legion North?” the Private ventured.

  “Why do you say special?”

  “They infiltrated an enemy city and fought the militia without armor. Captured the main barracks and freed an Ambassador of the Republic,” offered the Legionary. “They were selected and sent over specially for the mission. If that’s not special, I don’t know what is.”

  “Spare me the hero worship,” the Optio scolded. “I’m going to find Corporal Sisera and have him get his wagons off my approach road.”

  Chapter 25 – Break Out and Insolvent

  “Optio. Why is the Centuripe army still camped outside the walls? We have two Centuries in control of their main barracks and the high ground,” Horatius Ostrei stated. He pointed over a single-story house to the valley far below. “If they attack, they’ll have no fallback position in the city.”

  “Lance Corporal Ostrei, if I knew the answer to that I’d be a Greek commander,” Gustavi replied to the Decanus of 1st Squad. “I can only imagine General Periander is maintaining a show of force.”