“Yes, sir,” Irrisus replied while drawing his gladius.
The five Latian staff members escorted the civilians out of the room. Irrisus and the Legionary guards followed, leaving only the two men in the chamber. As the battle commander for a Legion, Ruscus didn’t bother looking back. He knew his orders were obeyed.
“Now that you’ve ruined my morning, Ruscus,” Ambassador Sergius said as a reprimand. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s Colonel Ruscus of Mesalla Legion East. It would behoove you to remember that,” Ruscus warned. “You will use my title, and follow my instructions, or I will set my Legionaries loose and they will turn the hills of Centuripe into a mountain of rubble.”
“Surely, you wouldn’t,” Sergius ceased talking. He grew nervous under the gaze of the Colonel’s unblinking eyes. They seemed to be looking deep into his. Changing tone and tactics, the Ambassador inquired. “What do you want me to do?”
“You owe the 25th Century Crassus a monetary bonus,” the battle commander explained.
“There will be no tribute payments to the Republic. Their Corporal destroyed thousands of Kentoripa vases,” replied the Ambassador. “You see Colonel Ruscus, there are no tribute coins to spread around as bonuses.”
“That’s not my problem. That’s your issue as is finding coins for the 25th,” Ruscus advised. “If you don’t have the ready cash, a note drawn on a temple in the Capital will suffice. And make it a primary God’s temple. Their patron is Senator Spurius Maximus and you do not want the old General to travel to a lesser temple to cash in the chit.”
***
A week later, Adrano and its defensive walls were reduced to a collection of broken stones and uninhabited dirt streets. At the Legion camp, sacrificial meat rotated on spits and the aroma teased the men standing in formation with their Centuries.
“Legion, stand by,” called out Senior Tribune Istac.
Trumpets blared to accent his voice. His words were picked up by Tribunes and infantry officers. Without the distraction of combat, the infantrymen, weapons engineers, cavalrymen, supply men, and animal handlers heard the calls and stopped talking and shuffling around.
A rousing cheer greeted Colonel Ruscus when he rode from the command tents. Approaching a wooden platform built for the occasion, the battle commander brought his horse to the rear of the structure. Dismounting, he climbed the stairs and stood looking sternly at the Legion. Finally, the cheering died down.
“Mesalla Legion East. Are your Century funds full?” he boomed.
A roar of approval for the coins he distributed from the sale of Adrano goods rose from the Legion. It crashed over the battle commander in waves. He waited for the adoration to settle.
“Our victory was complete but came with a terrible loss of life and horrible injuries to your fellow Legionaries,” he called out. “Of all the Centuries who suffered, one took the brunt and will have to hold the majority of remembrances. Centurion Fenoris Megellus and the 25th Century Crassus lead the charge, opened the gate, and held it. Along with squads from our first maniple, they upheld the highest traditions of the Legion. For his leadership abilities, I am awarding the gold crown to Centurion Megellus.”
Praising the infantry officer, all the Centuries’ of infantrymen called out his name.
“Congratulations, sir,” Optio Gustavi offered. “You might not want to keep the Colonel waiting.”
Fenoris Megellus remained unmoving in front of the 25th along with the Optio and the Tesserarius.
“That is your clue to approach the reviewing platform, sir,” Alerio coached. “Is it your leg? We can get you a horse.”
At the mention of the arrow wound, Megellus reached down, felt the indention, and the rough scab over the stitches. The memory of pain, fever, and immobility broke his hesitation. He marched to the platform with a slight limp.
Senior Centurion Edidi met him and escorted the infantry officer up the steps.
“Centurion. For breaching the gates and holding the ground until relieved, I present you with the gold crown,” Ruscus announced loudly. He placed a band of braided gold on the officer’s head. While the Legionaries screamed their approval, the battle commander leaned in and handed Megellus a pouch and a piece of parchment. “A bonus from me for your Century. And a letter of credit from Ambassador Sergius drawn on the Temple of Mercury.”
“I don’t understand, sir. From the Ambassador?”
“It’s his way of making amends,” explained Colonel Ruscus.
Centurion Megellus saluted and marched back to the 25th. The Colonel gave a short speech and ended it by calling for Lance Corporal Messoris to come forward and receive his gold Phalerae. As expected, the first maniple exploded in shouting with the prospect of one of their own being honored.
While waiting for the young Decanus to arrive at the platform, Colonel Ruscus had a few moments to reflect. The chit for the 25th was a way for the Ambassador to atone for his mistreatment of the Century and their Centurion. And the extra coins from the Colonel served the same purpose.
***
“Tesserarius. Take the coins and this parchment. It’s a draft for funds from the Ambassador,” Megellus explained. “It should be more than enough to cover the funeral costs for the priests and the ceremonies.”
“This will be more than enough, sir,” Alerio replied. “With thirty-five remembrances, our share of Adrano has been seriously depleted. This will refill our fund’s chest and leave us extra. The bonuses are a fitting reward.”
“I understand but we didn’t come to Centuripe to get rich,” the infantry officer said. “We came for a mission and now we’re reaping the rewards.”
“You’re correct, sir. It’s just…”
“Just what Corporal?”
“It’s sad, sir, that the debt of appreciation is being repaid to so few of us.”
Act 8
Chapter 34 – Wayward Hero
“Enna is a toothache. Shaped like a massive molar. The city has cliffs all around as slick as a tooth’s side,” the Optio for the 24th Century described. “They sent us there to take the city and keep the Qart Hadasht mercenaries from coming around it.”
“That’s why you weren’t at Centuripe when we took the barracks?” guessed Optio Gustavi.
“We landed at Catania and the Senior Tribunes were afraid Qart Hadasht mercenaries would cut across Sicilia and attack the Legions,” the NCO informed Gustavi. “We were the first to land so we drew the Enna assignment. They sent Mesalla Legion East after you when they landed. We chopped wood and did nature patrols where we frightened forest creatures. At least you saw action and earned bonuses.”
Gustavi peered over his shoulder at the forty-five Legionaries of the 25th Century. Some of them were still favoring wounds. They were the lucky ones. Thirty-five of those who marched out to save the Ambassador were in Hades celebrating in the Fields of Elysium. If a person was a believer. Non-believers would say the thirty-five were buried in graves above the Simeto River.
“I’d trade back the bonuses for my Legionaries,” Gustavi mentioned.
The other Sergeant glanced back at the almost half sized Century. He swallowed a lump of embarrassment.
“I didn’t think,” he apologized.
“Neither did the Colonel of Mesalla Legion East.”
***
The Crassus Legion North continued its marched south towards Syracuse. NCOs and a few Legionaries left their Centuries and went to visit with friends in other units. The shuffling was ignored as long as an Optio or Tesserarius remained with the Century as well as most of the Legionaries.
If was different for the Centurions. They were expected to go and consult with the Senior Centurion during the march. All the infantry officers made the daily trek to the front of the column during the trek.
“Centurion Megellus. I haven’t seen you for two days,” remarked Publius from the back of his horse. “Don’t you like me anymore?”
“I like you just fine, Senior Centurion,” Fe
noris Megellus responded.
“Then why haven’t you come to see me?”
“You are up there at the head of the column,” Megellus replied. “I’m back here with a half Century and a sore leg. And as you and Senior Tribune Nictavi pointed out, a half Century of misfits lead by an incompetent isn’t good for anything except guarding the wagons.”
“You know he said that before seeing the gold crown warrant,” Publius explained. “Or reading the revised reports from Colonel Ruscus.”
***
Rather than wear the actual gold braided crown, the gold crown award was displayed as a medal on the Centurion’s chest armor during parades and inspections. On the morning the 25th caught up with the Legion, Megellus had pushed himself until he suffered cramps in his thigh and staggered from another bout of fever. Reluctantly, he allowed his NCOs to convince him to ride in one of the wagons. Further reducing his appearance as a top line Legion officer, an early morning rain created muddy conditions and he was covered in splatters of drying dirt.
Adding to the infantry officer’s misfortune, the Century’s caravan converged with the head of the Legion’s main column. Not only was the Centurion dirty and recovering in a wagon, but the reports of the successful missions were in sealed parchments and the award for holding the gate resided in Megellus’ personal belongings.
A cavalry patrol spotted the caravan and alerted the staff officers riding near the front of the Legion.
“I’m bored,” Nictavi announced. “Come on Senior Centurion, let’s go see for ourselves.”
Three Greek wagons coming from a river valley certainly deserved to be investigated. Publius kneed his horse and the Legion’s two senior advisers followed the mounted Legionaries.
“Isn’t that your Centurion Megellus wobbling around in the wagon?” Nictavi observed. “He appears to be drunk.”
“He is,” Publius admitted. “And there seems to be only about half the correct number of Legionaries for a Century.”
They trotted between the mounts of the cavalry and reined in beside the first wagon.
“Centurion Megellus. What is the meaning of this?” demanded Publius.
“Senior Centurion, 25th Century Crassus reporting in,” Megellus stated. Then he remembered the reports and bent to untie a waterproof pouch. Suddenly his head throbbed, his vision blurred, and he fell onto the packs stored in the bed of the wagon.
“He’s drunk, disheveled, and sleeping during a march,” Senior Tribune Nictavi said. “If you want my advice, I’d say the only place for a half Century of misfits under the command of an incompetent officer is in the back, way in the back.”
“An excellent idea,” Publius declared. “Fall in behind the pack animals as the Legion’s rear guard. Relieve the current Century and have your officer join me when he sobers up.”
“Sir, Centurion Megellus isn’t...”
“Optio. Do not pour scented water over a pile of merda and tell me it’s a flower,” the Senior Centurion scolded. “You have your orders, follow them. If you are able.”
Gustavi’s face flushed red and he stammered. The delay in speaking saved his career and probably his life. Senior Centurions controlled the punishment post and the wood used for crosses.
***
The column continued to march southward with Publius restraining his horse to keep the animal walking beside the 25th Century. The Senior Centurion fixed the infantry officer with a steady gaze and Centurion Megellus clinched his teeth and set his jaw. Moments of silence followed the ‘I like you fine’ exchange. Finally, Fenoris Megellus spoke up.
“I am medically unfit to march to the head of the column. As are half my Century due to injuries suffered in saving the ungrateful Ambassador,” Megellus announced. “And in capturing the city of Adrano.”
Senior Centurion Publius had a problem. Due to his and Senior Tribune Nictavi’s hasty judgment of an ill Centurion and the conclusion that an incompetent officer had allowed another Legion to appropriate his men, they had insulted Megellus.
Not just insulted but, had ordered the wounded and grieving Century to guard the wagons and animals. For two days, before Corporal Sisera delivered the messages, the men of the 25th had marched through the leavings of horses, ponies, mules, sheep, and goats.
When Coronel Bacaris saw the letters from his old friend Colonel Ruscus, the Legion’s battle commander exploded in delight. Then when he read about one of his Centuries completing two major operations and their infantry officer earning a gold crown, he demanded to meet the Centurion.
“Nictavi. We’ve been sitting on our backsides the entire time we’ve been in Sicilia,” Bacaris explained while waving the parchment around. “Our infantrymen have had no chance for glory. Now an opportunity has fallen into my lap. I have a real hero to show off to the Legion.”
“Who would that be, Coronel?” the Senior Tribune inquired.
“Let me see,” Bacaris said as he read the missive again. “A Centurion by the name of Fenoris Megellus. It mentions he and half his Century were wounded or killed. I imagine Publius has our hero and his men riding in the medical wagons.”
“I imagine so,” Nictavi stuttered. “Orders, sir.”
“Being Centurion Megellus up here so I can meet him,” the battle commander instructed. “Or, if his wounds are too severe, I’ll ride back to medical.”
“I’m sure he’s able to ride, Coronel,” Nictavi lied. He had no idea of the extent of the Centurion’s injuries. “I’ll go find him and have him present himself to you, Colonel.”
The Senior Tribune nudged his mount into motion and the animal trotted down the column. Once out of the battle commander’s sight, he kicked the horse into a gallop. He needed to speak with the Senior Centurion as soon as possible.
“Publius. Where is Centurion Megellus and the 25th?” Nictavi asked as he reined up hard beside the senior infantry officer.
“Pulling drag and doing the merda two-step,” he answered. “Just where we ordered them to go two days ago.”
“Do not ask questions right now,” pleaded the Senior Tribune. “Get back there. Clean Megellus up and dressed in presentable attire. I’ll bring a horse for him.”
“Hold on Nictavi. What are you going on about?”
“Our Colonel wants to meet the hero of Adrano.”
“Who?”
“Centurion Fenoris Megellus, of the 25th Century, Crassus Legion North,” the Senior Tribune blurted out. “and his battle commander, one Colonel Bacaris, wants to meet the hero, now. Is that clear enough?”
“Oh, great Coalemus,” Publius declared upon realizing his mistake.
“You are not alone,” Nictavi assured the Senior Centurion. “It seems we have both been worshiping at the altar of the God of Stupid.”
***
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Centurion,” Colonel Bacaris said in greeting.
“Sir, I can truthfully say the same,” Megellus replied.
His horse, being part of the Tribune’s stock and accustomed to being near its herd mates, stopped beside the battle commanders. The infantry officer and the Colonel’s knees were almost touching. Nictavi would have preferred more space so he could hear their conversation better and maybe intercede if Megellus started to tell the Colonel the truth.
“I didn’t know what to make of Ambassadors Sergius’ earlier letters.”
“Sir, not to be indelicate, but the Ambassador is not a fan of the Legion,” Megellus commented.
“I realized that after receiving Colonel Ruscus’ reports,” Bacaris explained. “How is medical treating you and your infantrymen?”
It was subtle but both Nictavi and Publius sucked in air and held their breaths.
“Truthfully, sir, the doctors have been helpful,” Megellus lied. “But we need to reach the marching camp so my men can properly heal.”
Nictavi and Publius exhaled softly and the tension faded from their necks.
“I know it’s hard to convalesce on the march,” commented the batt
le commander. “Once we’re in camp, I want to hold an officer’s feast and have you talk about your experiences at Centuripe and Adrano. In the meanwhile, let me know if you need anything.”
“I will, Colonel, and thank you.”
On the way back to the 25th, Megellus turned his eyes towards the Senior Centurion.
“I assume now I can move my Century to their rightful place in the march,” he growled. “And have my men seen by a doctor and not a field medic?”
“Yes, of course,” Publius assured him.
***
The Senior Centurion walked his horse beside the marching column and tried to forget the last few days. Again, he attempted to understand the Centurion.
“I would appreciate it if the hero of Adrano rode up and talked to me every day,” Publius explained. “You once were a scheming foul up. Now I’m not sure what you are.”
“Senior Centurion, I am an officer who watched almost half my men die in combat,” Megellus stated. “When you bury that many fine Legionaries, you realize that eating merda from staff officers isn’t worth it for yourself.”
“What are you saying?”
“If you want me to attend officer’s meetings and smile at the staff officers, I need extra rations for my Century,” Fenoris Megellus replied.
“The Colonel has been up my cūlus about not seeing you,” confessed Publius. “And all this time all you wanted was additional food?”
“My lads are healing and need the extra rations,” the infantry officer informed the Senior Centurion. “It was a nightmare on the slopes of Adrano. And worse once we breached the gates. Food is the least I owe my Legionaries.”
“You will have the additional rations.”
“And you will have the hero of Adrano.”
Chapter 35 – Seize Siege
There were ten squad tents, an NCOs’ tent, and an officer’s tent. From the streets bordering the Century’s area, it appeared to be a normal encampment. Not until the messenger walked down the center, did the reality come to him. Half the tents were empty or were occupied by a couple of men. Mostly, the knowledge came from the lack of noise. In other camps, eighty infantrymen made a lot of noise. In the area of the 25th Century, muted would best describe the mode.
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