The wagons with the wounded slowed the Century’s descent. They left the barracks at sun up and were just reaching the lower section of The Serpent. Once they made another complete circle of the city, the caravan could drop down the final streets and exit through the eastern gate.
“Optio, there’s activity in the Centuripe camp,” Lance Corporal Italus reported.
“It’s morning,” Gustavi responded. “Usually there is movement in a military camp once the sun comes up.”
“No Sergeant. I’m talking ranks, armor, and spears,” the Decanus of 3rd Squad corrected.
“Century halt,” the Optio shouted.
The Legionaries assigned as drivers reined in the horses and tossed blocks to the men marching beside the wagons. Once the wheels were chocked, they let the lines go slack and looked over the low structures.
Down where the Symaethus Valley started, armored soldiers and Centuripe cavalry lined up between their tents and the city’s defensive wall. While the movement was obvious from the heights of Centuripe, down in the valley and closer to the Simeto river, the Legion’s sentries were oblivious.
Most of Mesalla Legion East was behind the trenches and spikes of the marching camp. However, early morning work parties on the way to collect water from upriver, foragers after wild fodder for the pack animals, and wood harvesters going to cut fuel for the fires ranged far from the camp. Plus, contuberniums patrolled out in the open as did several cavalry units. None of the exposed Legionaries realized the Centuripe army was up, awake, and dressed for war.
***
A single man in gold-edged armor kicked his horse into motion. He trotted through the Centuripe tents and out onto the plane of the valley. Partway to the Legion camp, the lone officer reined in his horse. He sat still until a couple of patrols noticed the Centuripe officer.
Whether out of curiosity or military courtesy, two Legion squads and a cavalry unit adjusted and headed for him. As they neared, the officer raised an arm and it appeared as if he was greeting the Legionaries. Then, he raised the arm higher and swung it in a circle. To the squads nearing the officer, it seemed to be a strange but harmless motion.
Alerio recognized the arm movement as a signal and anything except harmless. His fear came to fruition when the ranks of soldiers sprinted away from the wall, ran through the tents, and charged towards the Legionaries.
“25th Century. Form a defensive formation,” he shouted.
Centurion Megellus and Optio Gustavi stood where they had stopped. While their commanders seemed shocked at the command, the squads drew inwards, stacked in two ranks, and shuffled together until their shoulders touched, forming an oval around the wagons.
“What’s the meaning of this?” questioned Megellus.
“Sir, Tesserarius Sisera has recognized a danger. As such, he has wisely called the Century into a defensive posture,” stated Lance Corporal Enitui. “It is recommended that you and the Optio step inside our circle for your own protection.”
“It would be more impressive if we had javelins and our Legion shields,” added Lance Corporal Italus.
Enitui glanced over his unarmored 4th Squad, smiled, and said, “The Goddess Bia gave you strength. Let that be enough.”
“I’d still prefer a shield,” Italus complained while looking around at his 3rd Squad.
“We should have kept the Centuripe gear,” someone whined.
“Stow it and watch your sectors,” Alerio instructed. “Sir. If you and the Optio would step into the circle, I’d feel better about your security.”
***
Down in the valley, the two squads of Legionaries formed a shield wall but the mass of soldiers rolled over them. Centuripe horsemen ran down the work details after unhorsing the outnumbered cavalry. The wave of militiaman rolled beyond the Legion camp leaving the bodies of butchered Legionaries scattered across the field.
By then the camp was awake and Centuries were forming up while still strapping on their armor. Trumpets blared and as the herd of Centuripe soldiers splashed across the Simeto river, angry Legionaries jogged out of the gate. The heavy infantry units remained compacted to present a solid front for when the soldiers turned and headed back to Centuripe.
Close behind, the Velites, in their light armor, chased after the soldiers. Their job was to report on the distribution when the enemy turned back towards their city. But the Centuripe army didn’t turn. Following General Periander, they continued down the valley and crossed the river. Then, they hiked up the steep slope, approached a line of high stone walls, and marched into the city of Adrano.
***
Down in the valley, the soldiers who didn’t accompany their General ran for the gates of Centuripe.
“Steady,” ordered Centurion Megellus. “It looks like they’re coming to take back their city.”
“Sir, I don’t think they are planning on attacking,” Gustavi offered. “You’ll note, they’ve forgotten to put on their armor and helmets. And neglected to take their spears.”
“You’re suggesting those men are deserting?”
“Just the opposite, sir,” the Optio offered. “I believe the men who ran up the valley are the deserters.”
“Corporal Sisera, stand down the Century,” the Centurion ordered. “Get them moving and let’s get out of this city.”
“Yes, sir. Century, break formation and resume the march,” Alerio called out.
***
Smoke billowed from the Centuripe camp causing a haze to fill the upper valley. Most of the tents and equipment blazed and those not yet on fire would soon be in flames.
“Someone has a case of the red cūlus,” suggested Decanus Umbria.
“Can you blame the Legion for burning it?” a member of his 6th Squad asked. “They lost a lot of men.”
“No. They have a valid reason. But it’s a waste of good equipment.”
The 25th Century came through the city gates and marched by the burning camp. None of the skirmishers with torches paid any attention to them as they set fire to anything not yet ablaze. Four squads of heavy infantry did pay attention to the three wagons and the men in woolen workmen’s clothing.
“Halt. State your business,” an Optio challenged.
“I am Centurion Megellus of the 25th Century, Crassus Legion North,” the officer replied.
“Sir, you and your Century are a long way from home.”
“Where is the Crassus Legion?”
“The last we heard, they marched west to take Enna, sir.”
“Open your ranks, we have wounded,” Megellus instructed. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the Sergeant and signaled the wagons forward.
The infantrymen separated and the 25th marched to the Legion camp.
“State your business,” challenged the sentry at the gate.
“I am Centurion Megellus of the 25th Century, Crassus Legion North,” Megellus spit out. “Lift the barrier or I will have my men break it down.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard acknowledged.
Once he lifted the pole, the Century entered the Legion camp. At the medical tent, they unloaded the wounded, then stood around the empty wagons.
“Where to, sir?” Gustavi inquired.
“Hold here and I’ll see about getting us an assigned space and equipment,” replied the officer.
From far down the street, a Centurion in bright armor with a scowl on his face stormed in their direction.
“Who are you and why are you blocking my street?” demanded the officer.
“Centurion Fenoris Megellus of the 25th Century, Crassus Legion North. And I’m getting sick of having to explain that to everyone I meet,” Megellus shot back. “We attacked a city unarmored, saved the Ambassador, and have been treated like your impoverished cousin’s orphan children. At this rate, we’ll need to adopt the Goddess Orbona as the Century’s deity. If you are in charge, fine. If not, point me to someone who is and get out of my way.”
Alerio stood a little straighter as pride flooded his chest
. Centurion Megellus had displayed the type of aggression Legionaries required of their infantry officers. Then, the officer in the new armor bristled, answered, and Alerio deflated.
“My name is Osvaldo and, I am the Tesserarius of Mesalla Legion East.”
Alerio’s stomach soured. As the Century’s Tesserarius, he had to deal with Osvaldo’s staff for pay, armor, and equipment. And Centurion Osvaldo had to approve and sign off on all if it. No one wanted a demotivated Legion Tesserarius dragging his feet before allowing supplies to be released.
The one thing that saved Corporal Sisera from dropping to his knees and begging the Legion’s Tesserarius forgiveness was the 25th would be leaving in a day or so. No matter how angry the officer, the Century could live with it until they left to return to Crassus Legion North.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t only Centurion Osvaldo that held a grudge against the Century. The animosity towards the 25th came from high up on Centuripe in the chambers of a Republic’s diplomat.
“Well, then Centurion Osvaldo. We require a Century square, tents, food rations, and cooking utensils,” Megellus ordered.
“Can’t do it.”
“And why not?” questioned Megellus.
“Because the Legion is breaking camp and moving across the river,” Osvaldo informed him. “We will attack Adrano and put General Periander up on the wood for what he did.”
“What do you suggest we do in the meanwhile?”
“You have three wagons and healthy men,” observed Osvaldo. “Help move the wounded and the medical equipment to the other side of the river.”
Alerio breathed a sigh of relief. The Century would earn esteem from the Legion staff by working with the medical personnel and respect from the other Centuries. He wouldn’t realize until days later, that the debt of gratitude would be repaid to so few men.
Chapter 26 – The Price of Bonuses
Thirty-four infantry officers of heavy infantry and the officer for 25th Crassus stood in ranks receiving information and assignments for the coming assault.
“Centurion Megellus. I have two Centuries on duty in Centuripe. Your Century doesn’t make up for them but I need your infantrymen. Have them draw armor and weapons,” the Senior Tribune informed him. “We’ll figure out the compensation later.”
“But, sir. We haven’t been issued tents or cooking equipment,” Megellus protested. “My men are sleeping in the open next to the animal pens.”
“Then how have they been eating their rations for the last four days?”
“We haven’t been issued food either, sir.”
Senior Tribune Istac stopped talking, pressed his lips together, and turned his head. Behind him, Senior Centurion Edidi gritted his teeth and stared a hole in Centurion Osvaldo’s chest.
“I can’t send infantrymen weak from hunger up a thirteen-hundred-foot slope. All I could expect of them at the top is to die in front of the walls at Adrano,” Istac related. “Edidi?”
“I’m on it, Senior Tribune,” the Senior Centurion responded. “25th Crassus will be bedded, fed, and equipped today, sir.”
Before Istac had a chance to say more, the flap of the commander’s tent flew back and the Legion’s Colonel strutted from the tent. While walking to the assembly, he nodded to the ranks of officers in greeting.
“It’s a mile and a half to the walls of Adrano, uphill all the way,” announced battle commander Ruscus. “As always, but especially tomorrow, the job of breaching those walls falls to my heavy infantry. Are you ready?”
The voices of thirty-four proud and motivated Centurions cried back.
“Mesalla Legion East, standing by,” they replied while stomping their right feet.
“That’s what I want to hear,” Ruscus declared. “Where is Centurion Megellus?”
“Here, sir,” the infantry officer responded.
“Your 25th Century has the honor of front rank, center position during the assault,” Ruscus informed Megellus. Then the battle commander shifted and scanned the faces of the Centurion. “At daybreak, there will be sacrifices to the great God Mars for the opportunity and the Goddess Victoria for the outcome. Make sure your Legionaries are fed, watered, and ready to fight. Good afternoon, Centurions.”
Colonel Ruscus walked away with cheers ringing in his ears. The enthusiasm of the Centurions should have bolstered his confidence. But the reality that an assault on Adrano held the possibility of a tragic outcome, gnawed at his gut.
Despite his bravado in front of his infantry officers, the reality of climbing a steep grade then his Legionaries being filtered to a narrow area at the city’s gates, presented a difficult tactical situation.
If only the council at Adrano had turned over General Periander, Ruscus could have backed away claiming justice was served. But after four days of negotiations, the Centuripe General and his thirteen hundred infantrymen remained behind the walls.
Consul/General Valerius Mesalla’s orders were to get a treaty from every city along the east coast of Sicilia, or bleed the city and take slaves. Then, get the Legion down to Syracuse. Centuripe signed as did eighteen others. Only Adrano had opted to fight by harboring General Periander.
***
“What have you got there, Tesserarius?” inquired Apulia Frentani.
“Radishes to go with the salted pork,” Alerio replied.
He stopped at the 8th Squad’s campfire and slung the sack of vegetables off his shoulder. Reaching in, he pulled out handfuls of radishes and distributed them to the Legionaries. Then, he twisted the sack closed and started to walk away.
“Corporal Sisera. If not for you, we would have starved,” one of the squad members said.
“I doubt that but thanks,” Alerio replied. “I’d be a poor Tesserarius if I let the Century go hungry before I had the opportunity to charge you for lost or broken equipment.”
“I’d settle for equipment to break,” Quiris Stulte from the 9th Squad offered.
“Lance Corporal, we should be moving out in a day or so,” Alerio suggested while setting down the bag in front of the campfire of the 9th. “All of this will be forgotten once we’re on the road.”
He handed out more radishes, hoisted the bag to his shoulder, and walked to where the 10th squad camped. A little beyond the area rested the fence of the animal pens. The Century’s location was provided by the offended Centurion Osvaldo. But that was the extent of his allowances. Despite two a day visits from Corporal Sisera to the supply area, no other supplies had been issued.
“Corporal Sisera. You’ve finally done it,” Lucius Tescum announced.
“Done what?” questioned Alerio.
“Broken through Centurion Osvaldo’s resistance,” the Decanus replied.
The Legion camp was composed of neat squares of Century areas. Eight-man tents defined the squares, except the block controlled by the hapless and tentless 25th Century. Now supply wagons began arriving and it seemed the Century’s fortune had changed.
Ten wagons rolled into the center of the Century area and supply personnel climbed down. They began unloading tents, sacks of grain, bags of wine, amphorae of olive oil, and a variety of dried meats. Almost as if all the missed rations were being delivered at once.
Alerio began walking towards the wagons. Taking his time, the frustrated Tesserarius ogled the much-needed rations. Then, helmets, armor, shields, and javelins appeared. Panic struck Corporal Sisera and he broke into a run.
“Hold on there, Optio,” he called out to a supply Sergeant. “That gear can’t be for the 25th. We’re leaving to rejoin our Legion in a day or so.”
“Corporal Sisera? I have documents for you to sign,” the NCO told him. Picking up a handful of parchments, the Optio jumped from the wagon to the ground and held out the forms. Then he assured Alerio. “There’s no mistake, Tesserarius. Sign these.”
***
That evening, with the aromas of camp stew boiling in pots and bread baking in hastily assembled brick ovens, the men of the 25th Century relaxed, nibble
d on vegetables, and passed around wineskins.
“As much as I hate tents, tonight I’m looking forward to sleeping in one,” mentioned Lance Corporal Dircium.
The comment drew laughter from the men of 2nd Squad. With guylines taut, the edges of each tent in perfect alignment, and food cooking, outbursts of laughter erupted regularly around the Century’s area. Bliss reigned at every tent on the block, except in the officer’s tent.
***
“Sir, that’s suicide,” observed Alerio. “We don’t know the Centuries on either side of us or the adjacent squads. Their strengths or weaknesses, or if they’ll stand and not break.”
“I would tend to agree with you, Corporal Sisera,” asserted Centurion Megellus. “But the honor came directly from the battle commander’s lips.”
“If you want, you can go to the headquarters’ tent and inform Colonel Ruscus of his mistake,” suggested Optio Gustavi. “Not a bad strategy if you want out. You’ll miss the battle but have a nice view of the sunset from a cross.”
“Sergeant. I have no intention of talking to the Colonel,” Alerio assured him. “I was merely pointing out the issue with putting a strange unit in the center of an attack line.”
Megellus pulled over a new camp table and unrolled a piece of goatskin.
“I took notes during the briefing and drew this map,” the infantry officer explained. “There is one benefit to leading a construction division for three years. You learn to visualize and draw your ideas.”
“Sir. I’d like to learn how to draw those details,” Alerio remarked.
“When this is over, we’ll see if you have any talent for Cartography. Okay, see this approach…”
At the top of the long, steep approach, a three-thousand-foot-wide flat area gradually narrowed as it advanced towards the city. At the gates of Adrano, the flat ground was only two hundred feet wide. Any attacking force would be bunched up in the tight space and vulnerable to arrows and spears from the city’s defensive walls. The Legion would take heavy casualties before breaching the three-portal entrance.
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