Tribune's Oath (Clay Warrior Stories Book 17)

by J. Clifton Slater

  Stationed away from the edge of the forest, Colonel Sisera shouted and indicated directions with his arms. On either side of the commander, NCOs, and a couple of Centurions mimicked his words and actions.

  “Velites to the left, second maniple down the center, cavalry right center, first maniple far right,” they instructed the Legionaries emerging from the trees. “Velites to the left, second maniple down the center, cavalry right center, first maniple far right.”

  A quick glance at the enemy positions showed Emerens the target for each unit. He nudged his horse forward.

  “What’s the plan, Colonel?” he asked.

  “Planning is a luxury we don’t have,” Alerio stated. “Velites to the left, second maniple down the center, cavalry right center, first maniple far right. Senior Tribune Emerens take command of second maniple. And flank commander, capture us a Qart Hadasht General. Go. Velites to the left, second maniple down the center…”

  Emerens kicked his mount and charged after the running Legionaries. It all seemed to be madness. In the face of a force of mercenaries out numbering the Republic Legion by three to one, Colonel Sisera had split Legion North and aimed elements at narrow targets. But the flank commander didn’t have time to question or protest as he approached the fighting at the pavilions for the Empire Generals.

  “Second maniple, form ranks,” he bellowed. “Centurions, get control of your Centuries. Second maniple, stand by to advance.”

  In the melee between the large tents, the Legionaries began slamming the edges of their shields together. While the personal guards for Hamilcar, Bostar, and Hasdrubal fought in clusters, the experienced infantrymen of the Legion began to form assault lines.

  ***

  Senior Tribune Cancellus burst from the forest with Griffinus Agoston close behind.

  “Senior Tribune, you’re in command of first maniple on the right,” Alerio ordered before Cancellus could say a word. “Secure the Empire supplies, chase off the giants, and support Emerens and the second.”

  “Yes, sir,” the flank commander acknowledged.

  As he rode to the right, Agoston nudged his horse in behind Alerio and listened.

  “Velites to the left, second maniple down the center, cavalry right center, first maniple far right.”

  “Not to question your judgement, sir,” Agoston commented. He flung his arm out to encompass the isolated fights in the Qart Hadasht camps. “But what kind of formation do you call this mess?”

  “If Fortuna is with us, a winning formation,” Alerio replied. He glanced over his shoulder at the Legion’s top combat officer. “What do you call a mercenary heavy infantryman without his shield and armor?”

  “Sir, I don’t know,” Agoston admitted. “What do you call a mercenary without his shield and armor?”

  “A naked Iberian,” Alerio responded. “Take over here. I need to go see how our Velites are managing against the soldiers.”

  “Colonel, you sent our light infantry against Iberian heavy infantry?” Agoston gasped. “That’s a disaster in anybody’s scroll.”

  “Not if we caught them unprepared,” Alerio explained, “and drove thousands of naked Iberians from their tents.”

  “Did we?” Agoston asked.

  Hektor Nicanor rode up on Phobos.

  “Colonel, I found your mount back in the woods,” the youth reported to Alerio. He slid out of the saddle and lifted a medic’s bag from the one of the four saddle horns. “I thought you might need him.”

  Alerio vaulted into the saddle. Before galloping off, he addressed Agoston’s question, “Senior Centurion, I’m about to go seal the fate of Tunis or die. I’m sure you’ll be alerted to the outcome, shortly.”

  The Battle Commander raced to the left where his skirmishers battled for their lives.

  ***

  In response to an urgent message, third maniple after securing the fort, jogged from Jellaz Hill. As soon as the veterans reached the farmland, Senior Centurion Agoston split the Centuries. Reluctantly, he sent six to help the cavalry. The horsemen were having a difficult time handling the Empire warriors, and the senior combat officer feared the mercenaries would break out and get behind his Legionaries.

  Conversely, he wholeheartedly directed the other six veteran Centuries to the left. His light infantry needed bolstering against a select group of Iberians who hadn’t run off but had found their armor and shields.

  “Where do you want the triage center?” he called to Hektor and three other medics.

  The four scanned the fighting, and consulted for several beats before one replied, “Left of center, Senior Centurion.”

  “That’s what I was afraid you’d say,” he admitted. The choice meant the medics assumed the light infantry would suffer the most casualties. To a group of reserve Legionaries, Agoston instructed. “Take your shields to the combat lines and pull out the wounded. We’re locating the Legion treatment center behind the Velites.”

  ***

  Senior Tribune Cancellus rode up behind the first maniple. He assumed his least experienced Centuries would require the most direction. But they didn’t.

  “Spare the teamsters,” Centurion Aeneas ordered. Wounded in the thigh, the combat officer used a branch as a crutch to stand on a wagon full of grain. Despite the injury, he continued to issue orders. “We’ll need them to drive the wagons. Use four squads to push out the right perimeter. Everyone else, shift to Optio Kalem’s location.”

  Bodies of Empire mercenaries littered the ground. Plus, several bloody gladii showed where the Legionaries had indiscriminately killed wagon drivers. The perimeter mentioned by the combat officer was marred by footprints made by giant animals. Even after they left the fighting, the backs of the enormous creatures were visible in the distance.

  On the left, an Optio had assumed command of the maniple.

  “Block the front,” Sergeant Kalem instructed. “Centurions, hook them around, we can’t depend on the cavalry to contain the warriors.”

  Cancellus rode to the NCO and asked, “What’s the situation, Sergeant?”

  “Sir, we’ve set our maniple to corral their tribesmen. But half our line officers and our Tribunes are wounded and we’re having trouble relaying information,” Kalem communicated. “I’m glad you’re here sir.”

  “You’ve done a fine job,” the flank commander told him. “Get back to your Century. I’m assuming command of first maniple.”

  “Thank you, Senior Tribune,” the NCO acknowledged while saluting with his gladius.

  As a nobleman, Cancellus held a low opinion of the Plebeian class. Patricians founded Rome and only through generosity did they allow the common man to thrive in the Republic. The Sergeant’s salute shouldn’t have been seen as anything except a sign of respect for an officer and a better. But it was more than those.

  The stiff spine of an Optio of the Legion in response to the senior staff officer, the heartfelt respect of the salute in the middle of a battle, and the voice relaying the willingness of the NCO to follow him into Hades if he so directed touched Cancellus. His heart swelled with pride, and the nobleman suddenly understood the connection between Legionaries and their combat officers.

  “First maniple, standby,” Cancellus called out. He listened for the warning order to be passed through the ranks. At three spots, the voices that should be relaying the message were silent. He kicked his mount and rode to the first dead spot. “Centurion, Optio, shift left, shift right, and assume command of the adjacent Centuries.”

  Two more times he redistributed NCOs and combat officers. Once done, he raised an arm and the evenly distributed Optios and Centurions acknowledged his signal. In that instant, he felt the power of direct command.

  “First maniple, brace,” he instructed. Along the line, his infantrymen locked their shields together and held their bodies rigid. The Senior Tribune smiled at the personal attachment he felt to the Legionaries. Then he announced. “Play time is over. Second rank, throw two javelins. First rank, stand by to advance
.”

  ***

  General Marcus Regulus, one hundred and twenty members of his First Century, Legion East’s Battle Commander Ferenc, and six Centuries of East’s veterans burst from the road.

  Colonel Ferenc erupted, “What level of Hades has Sisera unleased?”

  On the crushed crops of the fields, discarded scutum covers were strewn in lines heading across the landscape as if markers pointing to the Qart Hadasht camp. Along with the protective covers, bags of grain, and other items Legionaries hauled but didn’t want to take into combat lay on the ground.

  In the distance, tents burned throwing off thick smoke that shrouded the battlefield in fog. Yet through the haze, shields, swords, spears, and helmets were visible as men dueled to the death.

  “What level of Hades, indeed?” Regulus asked.

  The Proconsul spotted Legion North’s First Centurion. Agoston was bent over an injured Legionary, holding him steady so a young medic could sew a wound closed.

  “It hurts, sir,” the infantryman stated.

  “Hush, Legionary,” Agoston encouraged. “Be proud, you’ve joined the club. Not many can brag in years to come, they were sutured by the grandson of Captain Nicanor and valet to Battle Commander Sisera. Look how pretty those stitches are sewn.”

  “No thanks, sir,” the Legionary begged off. “I’d rather admire Hektor’s work later. After, I’m healed up.”

  “Probably a good idea,” Agoston admitted. When the legs of horses came into the Senior Centurion’s peripheral vision, he glanced up then back down. “Excuse me Legionary, duty calls.”

  After gently lowering the infantryman to the ground, Agoston pushed to his feet and saluted.

  “General Regulus, welcome to Tunis,” he greeted Marcus.

  “Shouldn’t you be with the Battle Commander at the center of the maniples?” Colonel Ferenc challenged.

  “Roughly, sir, this is the center of Legion North,” Agoston reported. “And Colonel Sisera ordered me here to coordinate the shifting of Centuries.”

  “How does that work with you back here?” Regulus questioned.

  A rider galloped from the directions of three pavilions. He reined in beside the Senior Centurion.

  “Flank Commander Emerens has the Twenty-Fifth and the Twenty-Sixth Centuries available,” the cavalryman informed Agoston.

  “Send them to the right side,” the top combat officer instructed. “The first maniple is still struggling to hold the warriors in check.”

  The rider kicked the mount’s ribs and the cavalryman raced back into the smoke.

  “I take it that is an example?” Regulus quizzed.

  “It is sir. Been like that all day,” Agoston confirmed. “But things are slowing down. Most of the Empire defenders have fled. Unfortunately, we don’t have the assets to pursue.”

  “You didn’t have the manpower to begin this battle,” Ferenc blustered. “Which begs the question, why did a single Legion engage an army three times its size?”

  “Well sir, I wasn’t there. I was still deep in the forest as were all of the command staff,” Agoston clarified. “But as the story was told to me, there was a Centurion of Velites, an Optio of Scouts, a Tesserarius from the second maniple, and a discussion about naked Iberians.”

  Ferenc faced puffed up and his eyes bulged. The East’s Battle Commander was a serious man and being answered by a joke would not be tolerated.

  “If you were my Senior Centurion,” Ferenc threatened, “I’d have you on the punishment post for insubordination.”

  “Yes, sir,” Agoston allowed with a tilt of his head. “If, I was your Senior Centurion.”

  From the smoke where the rider had vanished, a line of five horses emerged. Walking in a row they could have been on parade. Except for the blood on their armor, the saddles, the flanks of their horses, and the ash smeared on their faces. Behind the five, Senior Tribune Emerens and Tribune Rapti Galba rode to either side of an older Punic gentleman. His extravagant robe displayed a high office, meaning they escorted an important prisoner.

  “What’s this?” Marcus Regulus inquired.

  “General Regulus,” Emerens announced with a salute. “May I present General Bostar, Senior Commander of the combined Qart Hadasht armies.”

  Chapter 6 – Just Too Much

  Alerio swung his gladius over the infantryman’s shoulder and retracted the blade after chopping into an Iberian soldier. Stepping back, he scanned the combat line for other threats. Seeing none, he allowed his blade to drop to the side of his leg. The Legionaries in this section were holding the line without difficulty.

  “One doesn’t expect to see a Battle Commander backing up an assault line,” Centurion Grear Keoki remarked.

  Between the haze and the distance, he could barely make out Alerio. But the ceremonial armor and the white comb of his helmet identified the Battle Commander. Equally, Alerio identified the top officer for his Velites by the red horsehair crest.

  “Most Colonels are smart enough not to send light infantry into a fight with Iberian heavy infantry,” Alerio shouted back. “So, I thought it only fitting that I join them in the fiasco.”

  Behind the Battle Commander, four members of his First Century stood guard while the rest fought on the shield wall. Additionally, several Junior Tribunes acting as runners kept the Colonel informed about the situation in other areas of the battle.

  “We had them on the run,” Keoki said. “Then their ready Companies arrived and threw up this shield wall. The second maniple saved us from the turning tide.”

  An instant later, the conversation broke up. Both officers rushed to the combat line. Where Alerio pulled an injured Legionary out of the fray, Keoki jumped into the fight adding his gladius to a developing breach.

  The smoke saved the men of Legion North. It prevented the Iberians from seeing how few Legionaries opposed them. For all they knew, the Republic had them trapped in a three-sided box. Thankfully for Alerio and his Velites, haze hid their thin line, medium shields, and light armor.

  “Sir, General Regulus would like a word.”

  Alerio twisted his head and squinted. An immaculately dressed Centurion stood beside him.

  “I’m a little busy,” Alerio informed the First Centurion of the East’s First Century.

  “Not for long, Colonel,” the Centurion stated.

  From behind him, squads of veterans jogged into view. Once they located the assault line, the Legionaries began inserting themselves into the shield wall.

  Then two veteran combat officers stepped up to flank Alerio.

  “We’ve got this, sir,” one assured him.

  “Take me to the General,” Alerio instructed the mounted officer.

  ***

  Out of the smoke and away from the fighting, the sky was blue and the air sweet on the tongue. Alerio marched to the mounted Marcus Regulus and his command staff.

  “General Regulus, Tunis is yours,” Alerio announced. He saluted, coughed to clear his lungs, and continued, “compliments of Legion North.”

  Marcus leaned down and studied his Battle Commander. Streaks of ash coated his face, arms, and legs. Adding to the untidiness, blood splatters dotting Alerio’s armor turned the grey ash to ruby mud.

  “You’ve created a problem for me,” Marcus confessed. “My other Colonels are jealous and critical of you and Legion North. It seems you are just too much. It’s not personal. But for a period, I need you out of the way.”

  “Sir, we took Jellaz Hill and Tunis for you,” Alerio reminded the General. “And it was our third maniple who broke the blockade on the coast road. Which was possible because Legion North punched through the Qart Hadasht army at the pass. Something your other commanders failed to do on the coastal road.”

  “I’m aware of your accomplishments,” Marcus Regulus admitted. “But I need to keep peace with my other Battle Commanders. To do that, Legion North will guard our supply route.”

  “Sir, that will take me out of the fighting,” Alerio whined. “Why w
ould you keep your best commander off the front line?”

  “As I said,” Marcus Regulus replied, “to keep peace in the expedition.”

  “By coddling the ineffective and punishing your most successful Legion,” Alerio shot back. Then he remembered to whom he was speaking and quickly reined in his temper. “General, I protest.”

  “So noted,” Marcus Regulus stated. “By the way. Your Senior Tribune Emerens captured an Empire General. Thank you for that.”

  “Again, sir, compliments of Legion North.”

  “I’m going to go and give him the terms of surrender,” Marcus Regulus informed Alerio. “You see, Colonel Sisera, you’ve won the war. Something the other Battle Commanders will not have the opportunity to do.”

  ***

  On a training ground near the defensive wall of Qart Hadasht, forty Spartans drilled two thousand Celtics. Each of the Noricum soldiers possessed a sword of Noric steel from their homeland and carried a heavy wooden shield. Racing around the ranks, Spartan instructors adjusted a few feet or shields until the soldiers resembled a drawing.

  “You’ll note, the formations are interlocked,” Spartan Tail-Leader Xanthippus illuminated the positions. “Once they take a location, leave them there to fight. It’s what heavy infantrymen are for. They will hold your center.”

  “Very instructive, General,” two of the five Punic officers acknowledged.

  Without the tradition of fighting in phalanxes, the Qart Hadasht Lieutenants and their Captain had no idea or appreciation for the position of Tail-Leader. To them, a foreigner must be a General to have their respect and to get their attention.

  “Wouldn’t it be better to move them around to show aggression?” one Lieutenant questioned.

  “We depend on the cavalry, the war elephants, and our light infantrymen to move around the battlefield,” Xanthippus replied. “The only proven use for heavy infantrymen, like the Iberian and Noricum soldiers, is forward or backward. Both always in a controlled manner.”

  “It’s been a fine demonstration,” the Empire Captain assured the Spartan. “I’m positive my junior officers appreciate the knowledge you imparted.”