Tribune's Oath (Clay Warrior Stories Book 17)

by J. Clifton Slater

  Maybe it was the rage at disturbing a pleasant day, or the horsemen injuring a pair of Legion sentries. Or, maybe the frustration at being relegated to guarding the supply route is what drove the Century. A little of each, perhaps, went into the nightmare unleashed by the Legionaries on the Qart Hadasht cavalrymen.

  “Rabbit. To circumvent the lake, those horsemen started before dawn,” Alerio pondered while watching the last of the Empire horsemen die. “Where do you suppose they were going?”

  “Coming up from the south,” Pelle guessed, “they could have been heading for Jellaz Hill. Which made you, their objective. Or they were trying to sneak up and attack the Legions at Tunis from the rear.”

  “Both tell me Qart Hadasht isn’t going to sign a peace treaty,” Alerio decided. “Send messengers. Any Centuries north of the Medjerda are to rally at Jellaz. Those south of the river, I want to form a blocking force on the far side.”

  “You’re thinking the Legions may need to retreat?” Pelle inquired.

  “The Empire is fighting for their Capital,” Alerio explained. “What would you do if you were fighting for Rome?”

  “I’d put you in command,” Pelle responded. “And we’d fight to the death.”

  “Exactly.”

  ***

  Three Legions stretched across the fields of Tunis. With two hundred feet between commands, the Republic forces controlled twenty-eight hundred linear feet of ground. Within each Legion, the first maniple stood at the front in a three-rank formation. At the rear, the veterans of third maniple held the same three-rank shape. Not that the veterans expected to rush into the battle anytime soon. The first and second maniples would take the brunt of the attacks. However, before the sides joined in conflict, all three maniples displayed even rows of shields, signifying their readiness to fight. As the instructors in recruit training taught, “Intimidation of your foe starts when they see you are ordered and prepared for battle.”

  Legion South held the left side of the Republic’s formation. That position put them in front of their marching camp, and more than a quarter of a mile away from their supplies.

  At almost the exact center of Legion South, Tapeti Elateris scratched his neck while staring to the right. The two hundred feet between South and Legion East was occupied by Republic cavalrymen and skirmishers. Beyond Legion East was another two hundred feet of cavalry before the start of Legion West. But he wasn’t focused on the infantrymen, the horsemen, or the Veles. Tapeti Elateris had his eyes on the waters of Lake Tunis.

  “What are you thinking about?” the Centurion for the Nineteenth Century inquired.

  Tapeti reluctantly pulled his view back from the water and the neighboring Legions.

  “My family is in the shipping business,” Tapeti Elateris replied to the combat officer. “When I was younger, we lost two ships to Illyrian pirates. Although my father wanted me to become a Captain in his fleet, after suffering the loss, he needed one of his sons to learn how to handle a shield and a sword.”

  “And he signed you up to a Regional Legion, so you’d be close to home?” the officer guessed.

  “Not even close,” Tapeti corrected. “I joined four years ago and was promptly shipped off to Sicilia. At Thermae, we witnessed the Empire sweep in and murder four thousand of our allied troops. Before we could chase them down and get revenge, the campaign season ended. Harvest time came and the Senate ordered us home.”

  “At least you learned to handle a scutum and a gladius,” the line officer said.

  “More than that,” Tapeti Elateris informed him. “After a few months sailing and rowing on my father’s ships, I joined another marching Legion. As much as my heritage was the sea, my heart fell in love with the infantry.”

  “It’s a sickness, I fear,” the Centurion joked.

  “Like all Legionaries who return to their trade between campaigns,” Tapeti continued. “I went to sea. But as soon as a Consul formed a new Legion, I signed up. Having missed last year’s trading season, I keep looking at the water like a farmer views a freshly turned field.”

  “It’s understandable,” the officer agreed. Then he stated. “I better get back to my squads.”

  “May the God Occasio bless you this day,” Tapeti Elateris offered.

  “For what,” the officer inquired, “opportunity, luck, or favorable moments?”

  “Based on the size of the army approaching us,” Tapeti responded, “let’s pray to him for all three.”

  The officer of the Nineteenth walked back to his Century and Tapeti looked behind him at the Legion’s stockade. Wagons had been wheeled onto the ramp at the gate. Teamsters, supply men, and tradesmen stood on the platforms drinking wine and observing.

  “I hope you enjoy the drama,” Tapeti spit out before turning back to examine the Empire army.

  The hoard had warriors, light infantrymen, and soldiers in good armor. They would be a problem. And although he couldn’t get a count, their ranks appeared to be deep. At least based on how far back their cavalry rode.

  “If nothing else, they don’t have elephants,” he whispered.

  “Sir, did you need something?” his Optio asked.

  Centurion Tapeti Elateris scanned the three ranks of his Twentieth Century. Seeing the infantrymen neatly arranged, he replied to his NCO in a light manner.

  “A fat bellied trading vessel,” Elateris replied while slipping on his officer’s helmet. “And a contract for a port-of-call somewhere over the horizon.”

  “Sorry, sir,” the Sergeant answered. “There’s nothing here except good farmland, and bad Empire steel.”

  “Anybody here ever see an elephant?” Centurion Elateris questioned. He walked along the line of his infantrymen examining their gear. They had been checked by their squad leaders and his NCOs. But, Tapeti became an officer because he didn’t neglect details. “They are huge beasts. I saw a couple in Sicilia.”

  “Did you ever face one in combat, sir?” a Legionary asked.

  “It’s been twenty years since the Legions battled war elephants,” Tapeti informed his infantrymen. “Legions of Consul Manius Dentatus had taken the field to stop Greek King Pyrrhus. But at Beneventum, General Dentatus was driven back by war elephants, Pyrrhus’ cavalry, and Greek soldiers. During the retreat of his Legions, Manius Dentatus called on his rear guard to throw javelins. They lobbed several flights but didn’t hit any of the giant beasts and just a few of the soldiers. Then a lucky throw sliced a calf. Wounded and afraid, the baby elephant bellowed and ran through Pyrrhus’ army searching for its mother. The other war elephants heard the calf, became agitated, and they began running through the ranks searching for the baby. In the mania, Consul Dentatus advanced his Legions and drove Pyrrhus back to Greece.”

  “Sir, in that story, is there a lesson on how to fight the beasts?” his Corporal inquired.

  “If you locate a calf during the battle, injury it, don’t kill it,” Centurion Elateris answered. “Other than that, get out of the way because war elephants are huge animals.”

  “Are they more dangerous than those, sir?” a squad leader questioned.

  Tapeti gazed beyond the first maniple to the Empire army. Where the soldiers had been in line with the warriors and light infantrymen, they had begun to crowd together. Forming up in loose ranks, the armored men were a few steps from establishing phalanxes. The combat officer did a quick count of the front rank and the numbers of groupings.

  “Sir, we have five Greek phalanxes coming out of the hoard,” he shouted to the staff officers for the first maniple.

  Using his hand, he indicated the five areas.

  “I don’t see any,” one staff officer snapped. “If we want the opinion of the second, we’ll ask for it. Stay with your maniple.”

  Another reason Tapeti Elateris reached the rank of combat officer, he was persistent and confident. Spinning, Tapeti signaled his right flank Tribune.

  “Sir, there are five phalanxes forming,” he described. “Looks to be five across but I can
’t tell how many ranks deep.”

  “I don’t see any spears, Centurion,” the staff officer commented. “Are you sure?”

  “If I’m wrong, what’s the harm Tribune?” Tapeti asked. “But if they suddenly acquire long spears, we need to be prepared.”

  “Good call,” the Tribune acknowledged.

  He waved over a Junior Tribune and instructed him to carry the news to his flank commander. Centurion Elateris faced his Century.

  “What do we do about the phalanx, sir,” another of his squad leaders asked.

  “Remember when I said to stay out of the way of war elephants?” Tapeti Elateris reminded his infantrymen. They all shook their heads confirming the elephant lesson. “Well, to keep a phalanx from busting our lines, we do the opposite. We stand in their way.”

  Act 4

  Chapter 10 - The Battle for Tunis

  “Second maniple, move up,” the staff officers ordered.

  The Tribunes’ instructions came after long spears appeared in the ranks of the grouped soldiers. When the spears tips were shoved to the fore of the formations, and the shields overlapped sealing the front, top, and sides, the phalanxes became identifiable.

  “Javelins,” the Tribunes from first maniple called out.

  The phalanxes were close, allowing the second row of Legionaries to chuck their javelins over the line and directly into the enemy shields. Iron barbs punched through, slid along iron shafts, until the heavy wooden frames slammed into the shields. As designed, the javelin shafts bent making the shields unwieldy. The weight dragged the barriers downward.

  Instead of stopping the progress of the formations, the soldiers with the dangling javelins rolled away and the files continued forward.

  “Javelins.”

  Barbed iron heads drilled through, long shafts bent, and the javelins pulled down shields. Again, the affected soldiers stepped aside, allowing the phalanxes to continue.

  “First maniple, second maniple, brace,” the Tribunes and Centurions yelled.

  Five files wide and twelve men deep, the Spartan trained phalanxes pushed into the Legion line. Countering them were Legionaries stacked six deep and pushing just as hard. For a few heartbeats, the struggle became a stalemate. The sides ground their shields together, both immobilized, with neither the Empire nor the Republic winning.

  But, just as small cracks were the biggest threat to a dam and not the flow of the river, it wasn’t the mighty phalanxes that broke the Legion line. On either side of the armored encased formations, mercenary light infantrymen shoved against the scuta. As if they were prying open a stuck door, they placed their backs against the shields of the soldiers and pushed the Legionaries with their legs. Warriors leaped into the gaps, forcing the Legionaries back. Then as if waterproof seals gave way on a ship’s hull, Empire forces flooded through the breaches and crashed into the Legion.

  “Rally, rally,” the second maniple officers screamed.

  They backed away from the chaos, trying to establish a new defensive position. Tapeti Elateris glanced back to judge the distance to the third maniple. To his dismay, the veterans stood right behind him. The entire Legion line, as if a falling fence, had collapsed. The veterans were creating the next and last hardpoint for Legion South’s defense.

  Then Tapeti noted the dead men far to the rear lying beside the wagons on the ramp. Qart Hadasht horsemen rode in and out of the Legion’s fortified bivouac.

  “Where’s our cavalry?” he asked.

  “They ran, Centurion,” a Legionary answered. “Hard to blame the noblemen. The Empire brought eight times their number to the party.”

  Tapeti scanned towards the two-hundred-foot gap between his Legion and Legion East. Before the battle, the area held Legion horses and Veles. Now, horsemen and warriors of the Empire crowded in and battled both Legions.

  A flash caught his eyes and Tapeti looked back at the stockade again. Flames engulfed the wooden posts and upright boards of the sides. And from within the marching camp, smoke boiled into the sky as their tents and supplies burned.

  “I miss the sea,” Tapeti whispered, “but still it’s…”

  “Excuse me, sir,” a veteran asked. “Did you say something?”

  Centurion Elateris drew his gladius, shoved aside several Legionaries until he reached the spot for his final stand. Then he braced his legs and waited for the Empire formation to come to him.

  Seeing an officer, desperate infantrymen flanked him creating a short combat line.

  “I said,” Tapeti Elateris announced as the spear tips of the phalanx reached him, “it’s a good day to die.”

  ***

  Marcus Regulus watched as Legion South vanished under the Qart Hadasht army.

  “Thirty-eight hundred sons of Rome,” he said grinding his teeth. “May the judges in Hades see their valor and rush the heroes to the Elysian Fields.”

  “General, maybe we can shift right and link up with Colonel Balint,” an aide recommended.

  Frozen in place by the forces opposing them, Legion East feared to move left in support of Legion South. Besides the threat of soldiers in front, the move would have abandoned Legion West. But after the destruction of the Legion on his left, Marcus Regulus had no choice.

  “Order the maniples to join with Legion West,” Marcus instructed. “Put the veterans in the lead.”

  They had two hundred feet of Empire horsemen and warriors to clear before linking with Legion West. And to be sure the way was open, their battle-hardened veterans jogged to the right side. Where five ranks of Veles had held the side, three rows of heavy infantrymen were charged with moving the line.

  ***

  Until the Legion on the left was dead and buried, the Spartan Commander held some attackers in reserve. Now he could add the victorious Companies to the assault against the other two Republic Legions. When South fell and East began shifting, he ordered the rest of the Qart Hadasht army and the phalanxes to engage. His army’s moral peaked and he used it for the final push. But to assure the momentum, he needed to dishearten the Republic.

  “Let’s take away their safe havens,” Xanthippus instructed. “Send the cavalry around and burn the other two Legion forts.”

  ***

  Alerio Sisera trotted up Jellaz Hill on a captured horse. Pulling on the reins, he stopped in front of Griffinus Agoston, and dismounted.

  “Did you get my message?” he asked.

  “We have twelve centuries of infantry, two Veles, and once hundred cavalrymen south of the Medjerda,” the Senior Centurion reported. “The rest of the Legion is on this side and awaiting your orders, sir.”

  “That should be enough for the blocking force,” Alerio announced. “I’m going to Tunis and speak with General Regulus. To keep you and Centurion Palle from throwing fits, I plan to take three Centuries and elements of the First with me.”

  “An excellent idea, Colonel,” Agoston agreed.

  A courier galloped from the direction of Tunis. Spotting the Legion’s staff, he drove his mount up the hill before reining in.

  “Where is Colonel Sisera?” he asked.

  Alerio laughed and raised his arm. For all the saluting and sirs, when dressed in his battle armor, but without the white combed helmet, he could be any of a half dozen staff officers. He had left it in his room as the Battle Commander’s helmet was too valuable to be sacrificed to a swim test.

  “That’s me, what do you have?”

  “Sir, compliments of General Regulus,” the courier stated while passing over a rolled scrap of parchment paper.

  Taking the piece of parchment, Alerio thought again of the dwindling supplies. Not food, they could forage for that, but for harder to replace consumables such as paper, aged hardwood, and quality steel.

  “Senior Tribune Emerens, you and I are moving up to engage the Qart Hadasht army,” Alerio directed after reading the message.

  “What about me, Colonel?” Cancellus inquired.

  “You’re staying here,” Alerio informed the ri
ght flank Senior Tribune. “There are going to be wounded and staff coming this way. Don’t let them block the road or stop at Jellaz Hill. I want all of them pushed back to the river.”

  “Sir, the Medjerda is six miles from here,” Cancellus protested. “Wouldn’t we be better staging them on Jellaz Hill.”

  “The hill is only a mile and a half from Tunis,” Alerio reminded the Senior Tribune. “It’s too easy a target. Move supernumerary personnel to the river. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  When fifteen Junior Tribunes rode into view, Alerio swept his hand in Cancellus’ direction as if shuffling an object to the senior staff officer.

  “We have a force at the river,” Cancellus shouted at the young noblemen. “Keep moving.”

  They followed directions and passed by the hill. Then, cavalrymen came from the forest. Half were wounded and slouched over the necks of their mounts.

  “Rapti, if they can ride, hold them here,” Alerio directed his Tribune of Horse. “If they might bleed out, treat them here, but find a wagon and move them as soon as you can. And get me a report.”

  Rapti Galba jumped on his horse and along with four of his horsemen rode down to meet the newly arrived cavalrymen.

  “Grear, send a Century up the road to the end of the trees,” Alerio instructed the light infantry officer. “I’ve a feeling we’re behind on a developing situation.”

  Grear Keoki saluted and jogged to several Centurions of Veles. While he talked with one of the officers, Alerio focused on his senior combat officer.

  “Griffinus, disregard the order to wait here,” he stated. “We’re moving all available Centuries up to Tunis.”

  “Yes, sir, probably a good idea,” Agoston commented.

  He pointed to the trees. Walking wounded, struggling to carry stretchers, limped along the road.