Tribune's Oath (Clay Warrior Stories Book 17)

by J. Clifton Slater

  Around Hektor, the bodies of Empire mercenaries and Republic Legionaries lay dead or wounded. Cries of alarm sounded as the infantrymen made sure the warriors of the Qart Hadasht army wouldn’t require the medic’s time or use up Legion supplies.

  ***

  “Colonel, it’s a great victory,” Griffinus Agoston boated. “Congratulations.”

  “Sixty-six wounded and thirty dead so far,” Alerio replied. He motioned to the scattered clusters of infantrymen gathered around the injured or the deceased. “I don’t think they believe it was such a great victory.”

  “You have less wounded than if we’d fought for a week to break through, sir,” Tribune Palle stated. He pointed at the killing of enemy wounded and whined. “It’s a shame we can’t take prisoners.”

  “We have no way of sending them to Rome,” Alerio reminded the commander of First Century. “Without the fleet, we can’t even go ourselves.”

  The command staff of Regulus Legion North rode through the battlefield saluting and acknowledging Legionaries, Centurions, and NCOs who weren’t too exhausted to look up. On the far side of the carnage, they halted at an abandoned farmhouse. Cultivated fields stretched for miles beyond the house. In the northeast direction, the flat landscape allowed Alerio to see the rear elements of the Qart Hadasht army.

  “We should chase them down and maintain contact,” Tribune Invisum recommended. “Keep them off balance and prevent them from setting more traps.”

  “I agree with you,” Alerio told the head of planning and strategies. “Once we get our wounded off to Kelibia, our dead buried, and the walking wounded sorted, we’ll go after them.”

  “There’s no sign of Legion East, West, or South,” Rapti Galba observed. The Tribune of Horse pointed northward and asked. “Should I send patrols to find them?”

  To the north, the mountain descended into low hills before the land flattened. There was no sign of any of the Legions that took the coastal route.

  “I don’t want to send men wandering off with no clear objective. We’ll discuss it later when we set up for the night,” Alerio replied. Shifting his focus to the nearby farm, he noted. “This is good land. I imagine it yields a healthy crop.”

  “I can confirm that, sir,” Centurion Lecti Gratian agreed. “When we were scavenging, we noticed the Qart Hadasht farmers had to mechanize the harvest to handle the grain.”

  “Really? Why wasn’t I aware of that?” Alerio asked the supply officer.

  “You’ve been busy, Battle Commander,” Gratian submitted. He kneed his horse froward to a shed beside the farmhouse. Reining in, the officer lifted a foot and rested it on a wooden form leaning against the outbuilding. “This is a threshing board.”

  Heavily constructed, the wooden structure measured four feet by six feet. Affixed to one edge was a set of iron rings.

  “It looks like a reinforced door for a defensive wall,” Alerio guessed. “Nothing about that resembles a farming tool.”

  Centurion Gratian kicked the board. It fell flat on the ground, exposing the hidden side. Razor-like metal blades covered the backside of the threshing board.

  “They harness a horse to the iron rings and a man sits on the board,” Gratian explained. “He guides the horse and the board over freshly cut stalks. The blades rip the husks from the grain. You have to admit, sir, it’s more efficient than threshing by hand.”

  “No question about it,” Alerio confirmed. “I just wouldn’t want to fall under those blades when the threshing board is in motion.”

  “Or any other time for that matter,” Tribune Invisum counseled.

  Far to their rear, the wagon train came from the mouth of the valley. As the Centuries had done before the battle, the mules and handlers formed three ranks. The squads’ supplies were in order by first, second, and third maniple.

  “Tell them not to unload,” Alerio instructed when he noted the formation of pack animals.

  Senior Tribunes Emerens and Cancellus sent Junior Tribunes to deliver the message. As the young noblemen rode away, a trio of riders galloped from the valley.

  “Must be word from General Regulus,” Grear Keoki guessed.

  “This time he won’t get an argument from me,” Alerio replied to the light infantry commander. “I want vengeance as much as the Proconsul wants to win the war and go home.”

  The couriers slowed and guided their mounts around the wounded and the dead. All three were slumped and their horses lathered with sweat when they reached Alerio.

  “Colonel Sisera, greetings from General Regulus,” one courier stated before handing a scroll to Alerio.

  After unrolling it, the Battle Commander read the message.

  “The other Legions are delayed on the coastal route,” Alerio told his staff.

  “What’s the hold up, sir?” Centurion Palle inquired.

  “According to General Regulus, they’ve encountered massive resistance,” Alerio responded. He rolled the scroll and ordered. “Find Centurion Lophos and have him lay out our marching camp. First and second are staying here for the night. Third maniple and half our cavalry are marching north to help the Legions breakout.”

  “Who is commanding, sir?” Senior Tribune Cancellus inquired.

  “Seeing as you asked, you are,” Alerio told him.

  “Thank you, Colonel,” the flank commander responded.

  Griffinus Agoston looked around at the cost of victory and scoffed, “Colonel, if we hadn’t broken through, who would be available to help the other Legions?”

  Heads snapped around and eyes locked on the Legion’s Senior Centurion. The insinuation buried in his comment bordered on insubordination.

  “I think what you mean, Senior Centurion,” Alerio corrected, “it’s sad the Empire army is getting away. But not to worry, I can assure you, we’ll get another chance at them.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I meant,” Agoston confirmed.

  The Legion’s top combat officer meant nothing of the kind. He was angry that his Legion had taken the initiative and punched through the enemy blockade. But now, his veterans were being sent off to do what a better Battle Commander would have already accomplished.

  “Permission to accompany the third maniple, sir,” he requested.

  “No Griffinus. I need you here to put my maniples back together,” Alerio replied. Then he clarified. “And to help me organize the next segment of the invasion.”

  “Yes, sir,” Agoston acknowledged. “I better get…”

  Before the Senior Centurion had a chance to finish, Centurion Aeneas ran up and grabbed the reins of the horse. The line officer blew out a lungful of air then inhaled trying to catch his breath.

  “I have a man missing,” the combat officer for the Sixth Century uttered.

  “Who’s missing?” Alerio asked.

  “I’ve searched the living, the dead, and the wounded,” Aeneas reported. “And sir, Corporal Philetus is gone.”

  ***

  The mercenary soldiers, untouched by the battle, marched with energy. Surrounding their formations, exhausted warriors put one foot in front of the other and thanked their Gods for sparing them. Beyond the main body of Hamilcar’s army, horsemen rode to the rear and on the flanks watching for Republic forces.

  “Move your legs,” an Empire cavalryman threatened, “or I’ll gut you right here and save myself the trouble of guarding you.”

  To reinforce his warning, the horseman jerked the rope and the Legionary tied to the other end fell to his knees. If the infantryman had fallen onto his back, he would have been pulled along hopelessly. As it happened, he dropped chest down on the rope. Nuzzling the hemp line with his neck, the prisoner maintained his forward position. In a few staggering steps, he stumbled to his feet and jogged along with the horse.

  “You should kill me now,” Corporal Philetus said. “I’ll tell you nothing.”

  “Oh, but you will talk to my Captain,” the horseman assured the Legion NCO.

  “You misunderstand me,” P
hiletus corrected. “I can’t tell you anything because I don’t know anything.”

  “Not my problem,” the rider stated. He jerked the rope forcing Philetus to sprint for several steps. “That’s between you and the captain.”

  ***

  Hektor Nicanor shifted to a more comfortable position and pulled the blanket up to his neck trying to block the light.

  “You should go into another tent,” Alerio recommended.

  “Do you need anything Battle Commander?” the youth asked.

  “Other than sleep, what could I want?” Alerio questioned.

  There were two pitchers of wine and mugs on the map table. On a side stand, slices of beef and pieces of fruit filled a couple of bowls, and there was a stack of flat bread.

  Several strategically placed candles cast light on a couple of maps. The rest of the command tent and the survivors of Battle Commander Sisera’s marathon planning session were illuminated by braziers.

  “I’ll be here if you need anything,” Hektor said.

  “He’s a good lad,” Senior Centurion Agoston remarked. “He sewed up a lot of Legionaries today. The other medics were talking about identifying his patients by the neat stitching.”

  “Don’t say that out loud, he might get too full of himself to be my valet,” Alerio teased. “Let’s get back to Tunis. Once over the Medjerda River we’ll be four miles from the town.”

  “But the land narrows after the forest,” Invisum pointed out. “It drops to two miles of solid footing before the final approach. Our left flank will be exposed when we move out of the woods after the pinch point.”

  While the physically stronger men were fading, the head of planning and strategies grew more alert and sharper the longer the session lasted.

  “And that’s where the Empire will harden their defense,” Rapti Galba said. “I can flood the left with cavalry, but you’ll need another solution on the right flank.”

  “We’ll be swinging around the shoreline of Lake Tunis,” Invisum informed the group. “Unless the Empire has barges to deliver troops, our right flank should be secured by the water.”

  Alerio rested a hand on a map and traced the drawing from that one to another piece of parchment where the map continued. He would prefer it if two or even three Legions could attack Tunis at the same time. But the wet shorelines to either side of the narrow land prevented it. Only one Legion could pass through at a time.

  “If we get the go ahead from General Regulus, what’s our order of march?” Alerio asked.

  “My Velites along the water and out front,” Centurion Grear Keoki described. “We’ll envelop the infantry and be in a position to warn about threats.”

  “Second maniple will be the lead unit, behind the skirmishers,” Senior Centurion Agoston replied. “They’ll pivot around staying close to Lake Tunis to prevent the Empire from snaking in on that side.”

  “Followed by my cavalry,” Tribune Rapti Galba expounded on the plan. “That will allow us to charge into the open after the narrows and protect your flank.”

  “First maniple will roll left, following the horsemen. They’ll extend your attack line,” Senior Tribune Emerens depicted the movement of his infantrymen. He used a hand to sweep left in an arc on the map and ended the motion with his palm over the town of Tunis. “Unless delayed by resistance, the first will use the end of the second maniple as a fulcrum to swing around. All things being equal, the maneuver will be completed before you reach the walls of Tunis.”

  “What about the wagon train and the mules?” Alerio asked.

  No one said anything. They had been so focused on the attack, they forgot about logistics.

  “Leave them with the following Legion,” Centurion Gratian proposed. “Give each Legionary two days rations and an extra waterskin.”

  “And if we get bogged down and need to resupply?” Emerens challenged. “What then?”

  “The Legion goes hungry for a day,” Invisum answered. “The most efficient and swiftest course of action is a Legion sized combat patrol. It’s what we described before the Colonel brought up the wagons and mules.”

  “It’s a bad plan to leave our supplies behind,” Emerens proclaimed.

  “The man who has planned badly, if fortune is on his side, may have had a stroke of luck; but his plan was a bad one, nonetheless,” Alerio quoted. “Herodotus said that some two hundred and twenty-five years ago.”

  “Then we’ll travel with our wagon train?” Agoston inquired.

  “The historian also boasted, great deeds are usually wrought at great risks,” Alerio responded. “We’ll leave our train with the following Legion. Now, go get some rest. We break camp at sunrise.”

  ***

  While Alerio planned for an attack on the town of Tunis, miles away from the Legion camp, General Hamilcar gathered information.

  “You are a Republic officer?” Hamilcar questioned.

  “No sir,” Philetus admitted. His armor, helmet, and boots had been stripped away, leaving the NCO in a red tunic. “I’m the Corporal of Sixth Century, Regulus Legion North.”

  He swayed from exhaustion and a beating earlier. Thinking he was moving towards the General, two bodyguards hammered Philetus to his knees.

  “Enough. Give him a chance to explain,” the Punic nobleman directed. “You told my Captain of Horse that you were a Tesserarius. What are your duties?”

  “Sir, I maintain the pay records for my Century, write reports to the command staff, and keep the burial funds and punishment list,” Philetus explained. “And I help with training and I’m in charge of a section of the assault line.”

  “So, you are an officer,” Hamilcar decided. “You keep records and handle funds. Those are tasks for officers.”

  “If you say so, General,” Philetus agreed.

  He began to topple over. One of the bodyguard’s dropped a hand on his shoulder to stabilize the NCO.

  “Tell me, Republic Officer, who is in command of your Legion?”

  “General Marcus Regulus, sir,” Philetus told him. “The Proconsul is in command of the expedition.”

  “And he personally orchestrated the breakout from the valley?”

  “No, sir, that would be Colonel Sisera. He’s a disciple of Nenia the Goddess of Death,” Philetus bragged. “Plus, he’s a sorcerer and a scary staff officer.”

  “Because he treats you badly?”

  “No, sir. He treats his Legionaries fine,” Philetus said with a smile. “He is scary because the Battle Commander, while he is killing your soldiers, prays for his Goddess to take their souls.”

  The club impacted behind Corporal Philetus’ ear, and he dropped, loose limbed, and unconscious to the floor of the tent.

  “Send him to the capital as a slave. One of many to come,” Hamilcar directed. Then he stood and paced the floor. “Scribe, put out a notice. I am personally offering a reward of twenty silver coins for the man who brings me Colonel Sisera or his dead body.”

  Act 2

  Chapter 4 – March on Tunis

  Shortly after Legion North crossed the Medjerda River and set up camp, several things occurred. Alerio’s veterans and Senior Tribune Cancellus, his right flank commander, returned. They hiked through the gates of the marching camp full of combat stories and good cheer. Behind his veterans, the other three Legions arrived and set up stockades of their own.

  Despite the visibility of four full Legion stockades, the Qart Hadasht army was nowhere to be seen. Not a probe of Legion lines nor any patrols were reported.

  The next morning, Alerio left the camp to meet with the General and the other Battle Commanders. During the daylong conference, one more thing occurred. General Marcus Regulus agreed to Sisera’s battle plan and granted Legion North the honor of attacking Tunis.

  The sun hung low in the western sky when Alerio rode away from the General’s command tent. He and a troop from First Century were outside the stockade of Legion East when a rider caught up with them. Alerio reined in and waited for the senior s
taff officer. The two took a moment to admire the majesty of the setting sun.

  “Legion East will protect your wagons and mules,” Senior Tribune Triticeus promised Alerio. “Although, I wish my maniples were attacking Tunis.”

  “This campaign is far from over,” Alerio pointed out. “You’ll have plenty of chances for glory.”

  “So far the Empire has broken contact as soon as it got rough,” Triticeus noted. “On the coastal road, your third maniple hit their flank and like a boxer punched in the ribs, the soldiers folded and backed away. Colonel Sisera, do you think it’ll be any different when we reach the walls of Qart Hadasht?”

  “People behave differently when defending their homes,” Alerio counseled. “Plus, Tunis is only ten miles from Qart Hadasht. A great deal can happen for your benefit or against you between the town and the city.”

  “I’ll make an offering to Mars for your Legion, Battle Commander,” Triticeus assured him, “and for you as well.”

  “I’ll take all the help I can get,” Alerio agreed as he tightened the reins on Phobos. “Having the God of War watching over my staff can’t hurt.”

  The two officers exchanged salutes and trotted off in opposite directions. Triticeus rode back into the Legion East camp, and Alerio galloped towards his command.

  ***

  When pink streaks jutted across the sky, Legion North disassembled its marching camp. Boards and posts were stacked in wagons, squad tents rolled and secured on the backs of mules, and hundreds of items were packed and loaded. And lastly, extra grain and waterskins got distributed to individual Legionaries. By sunrise, the wagon train, mules, extra horses, and tradesmen headed southeast.

  “Men of Regulus Legion North, the God Mars requires your services,” Alerio called out. “Centurion Keoki, show us the way to war.”

  “Rah,” the Velites responded at the mention of their commander.

  Keoki lifted an arm and pointed his hand at the Legion’s Fiftieth Century. In response to the motion, Centurion Scoedia saluted and turned to his eighty pathfinders. Each scout came from the mountain tribes of Umbria and were capable trackers of man and beast. Dressed in lightweight leather armor, they carried a small shield, a spear, and a sica as a side arm. Their equipment matched their mission to move swiftly and patrol ahead of the Legion.