Tribune's Oath (Clay Warrior Stories Book 17)

by J. Clifton Slater

  “At least some of the noblemen got out,” Marcus growled. “Go on.”

  “Sir, I’d rather not,” Hektor requested. “It’s better forgotten.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve created an intriguing situation. You can’t stop now. Continue.”

  Hektor squared his shoulders as if delivering the news that a farmers prized oxen had been stolen.

  “Centurion Palle arrived at the hill fort with Colonel Balint and two thousand survivors,” Hektor told the Proconsul. “Unfortunately, there were only three transports anchored offshore and a three-banker warship on the beach. The cavalrymen claimed the merchantmen for themselves and their horses.”

  “Didn’t Balint use the boats for his troops?” Marcus asked.

  “He wanted to. But one of the Patricians threatened to ruin Colonel Balint’s businesses and his social standing when he returned to Rome. The Battle Commander relinquished the boats and allowed the cavalrymen to load their horses,” Hektor responded. “General Regulus, there weren’t enough ships to carry all the Legionaries from the Punic coast.”

  Marcus fell silent and his hands shook. Seeing the stress on the Proconsul from the aftermath of the disaster at Tunis, Vitus stepped forward.

  “How did you get away?” the Sergeant asked Hektor.

  “Centurion Palle argued with Tribune Colonna about putting Phobos on a boat,” Hektor said then he covered his mouth with a hand. “Sir, I didn’t mean to name him.”

  “You mean it was Ostentus Colonna who threatened Balint with social ruin?” Marcus demanded.

  “Yes, sir. Centurion Palle said he would march his Century to the beach and remove all the horses and cavalrymen if Phobos and I weren’t granted passage,” Hektor replied. “We loaded and rowed away from shore. As we rowed into deep water, ten Empire ships-of-war came around Cape Bon. We sailed clear because the ships-of-war seemed more interested in patrolling the coastline than in chasing us.”

  “But how did you get to Messina?” Marcus questioned. “And where is Tribune Colonna and the other horsemen?”

  “The transports were Greek, and their Captains wanted to go home,” Hektor told him. “They dropped us at Messina before rowing back down the strait. After they left, Tribune Colonna said we needed to pool our coins to secure transportation for the rest of the trip to Rome. He took all my coins and my medical bag, explaining that he could barter with the medical supplies. Then he sent me and Phobos into Messina to locate a corral for the cavalry horses.”

  “Let me guess,” Marcus said while rubbing his forehead, “when you got back to the docks, the cavalrymen were gone.”

  “Yes sir, along with my coins and my medical bag,” Hektor confirmed. “They rowed out without me.”

  “Alerio didn’t like Colonna very much,” Marcus Regulus stated.

  “Still doesn’t,” Hektor mumbled.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, General Regulus, Colonel Sisera still doesn’t like or respect Tribune Colonna,” Hektor blurted out. Then he lowered his eyes for a beat before lifting them. “Alerio Carvilius Sisera said he would return for the things he loves. And I believe him. He’s not dead sir.”

  Marcus Regulus pulled the coin pouch he received from the Messina commander and handed it to the poor, delusional boy. It was more than enough to buy transportation home for Hektor and the stallion.

  “It’s the least I can do for Alerio’s valet and his favorite horse,” Marcus announced. “Optio Tutus take Hektor to the cook and get him fed.”

  “Follow me Medic Nicanor,” Tutus invited.

  “How is your wound?” Hektor inquired.

  The two walked from the patio and soon vanished around the corner of the Villa.

  “Some people can’t accept reality,” Marcus remarked.

  “Yes, General,” Vitus agreed.

  He wanted to add, ‘and some people embrace reality to closely.’ But he kept his opinion to himself and refilled Marcus’ cup.

  ***

  Several days later, a five-banker cut a half circle in the water before backstroking onto the beach at Ostia. Vitus and Tutus tossed Regulus’ bags off the warship and climbed down.

  “Thank you for getting me home, Centurion,” Marcus stated to the ship’s senior officer. “I hope I didn’t bring too much shame to your crew.”

  “Shame, Proconsul? No sir, it was an honor to have the hero of Tunis on board,” the Centurion replied.

  Marcus Regulus climbed down to the sand and marched for the naval headquarters. When he arrived, a Senior Tribune met him outside the building.

  “General Regulus. We can arrange immediate transportation,” the senior staff officer informed him. “Or if you prefer, we have a bath and a bed for you. After a night’s rest, you can leave fresh in the morning.”

  “I’ve been gone a long time,” Marcus said. His voice caught in his throat as he choked up from emotion. “I think I’ll leave for home right away. Marcia would be angry if she knew I lingered in Ostia.”

  “I’ll have horses brought around and a wagon,” the Tribune listed. “The honor guard will be along by the time your aides have the wagon loaded.”

  The Tribune in command of the ten-man cavalry escort placed the General and his Optios in the middle of the formation. He assigned two riders to the wagon and directed them to stay with the wagon even as the horsemen rode ahead.

  By twilight, the riders trotted into the city of Rome. By full dark, on the steps of his villa, Marcus Regulus held Marcia Regulus in his arms. As the husband and wife hugged, they both wept tears of joy at the homecoming.

  ***

  Eight days after returning to Rome, Marcus Regulus rode to another villa for another uncomfortable visit.

  The knock on the front door had authority but wasn’t insistent. A house servant peered out. After seeing the caller, he ran to fetch Senator Spurius Maximus’ secretary.

  “I didn’t know if I should open the door,” the servant told Belen.

  “You can’t listen to household rumors,” Belen instructed. “But I’m glad you came to me. Please have the Senator meet us in his study and arrange for refreshments for his guest.”

  After issuing the orders, the secretary briskly walked to the front door and flung it open.

  “General Regulus, please come in,” Belen announced. “Senator Maximus has been expecting you.”

  “Belen, I feared I would be greeted by spear tips,” Marcus admitted while sliding off the saddle. “At some of the villas, weapons would have been welcomed over the wailing.”

  “Not at Villa Maximus,” Belen assured him. “Your aides can go to the cook shed for snacks. Master Sisera always enjoyed that...”

  For a heartbeat, darkness flashed across the secretary’s face. But it passed when he got control of his emotions. Belen bowed then led Marcus down a hallway to the office of Alerio’s adopted father.

  “Marcus Regulus, welcome home,” Spurius Maximus greeted the Proconsul. The two men shook and Spurius waved his guest into a chair. “You’ve had a trying year and a half.”

  “I want to say it’s good to be home,” Marcus reflected. “But visiting the villas’ of my dead officers has taken all the joy of it.”

  “When I returned from the Samnites conflict, I only had a handful of visits to make,” Spurius recalled. “Nothing on the scale that you face. Refreshments?”

  A servant walked in with a pitcher of vino and two mugs. Belen stood in the doorway watching to be sure the beverages were delivered without incident. Once Marcus and Spurius held full mugs, the servant left. The secretary remained at his post.

  “Alerio was my best Battle Commander. He took Tunis with one Legion,” Marcus reported. “I often wonder if I had kept him in the center instead of holding Legion North in reserve, would I have murdered fifteen thousand Legionaries.”

  “You can’t carry the guilt,” Spurius assured him. “In war, Generals set the best plan they can. But no matter how excellent the strategy, men die. You can’t blame yourself.
What you should feel bad about is not appearing before the Senate. You’ve been home a week.”

  “I have demands from Qart Hadasht,” Marcus informed Spurius. “But I’m not ready to present them to the Senate. It’s why I held off on seeing you.”

  “Are they that terrible?”

  “No, Senator Maximus. The items are fair,” Marcus confessed. “And the terms of my release are to convince the Senate to agree to them.”

  “If they’re not too harsh and your peace of mind rests with the demands,” Spurius coached, “come before the Senate and propose them. I will do everything in my power to pass the resolution.”

  “There is a problem,” Marcus stated. “I don’t know how I feel about the Empire’s demands.”

  ***

  Across the Capital, in a neighborhood of newer villas, a servant peered through the main gate.

  “Go away,” he ordered. “Take the stolen horse and leave. The Lady DeMarco is not interested. The villa is in mourning.”

  Tall iron bars set in a heavy wooden frame gave visibility to the world beyond the walls of the villa. Outside the compound, a Greek boy holding the reins of a horse peered back at the servant.

  “Please, just tell her that Hektor Nicanor is here with Phobos,” Hektor begged. “I don’t have the means to take care of the stallion until Master Sisera returns.”

  “Master Sisera is dead you scoundrel,” the servant scolded. “Take your confidence game elsewhere before I have the household guards thrash you.”

  “Then bring them out, if they dare,” Hektor challenged. He hoped the household guards would recognize him even if the new servant didn’t. “If they can in fact beat me, I’ll give them this horse.”

  On the far side of the courtyard, the door to the villa opened, and a woman glanced at the gate. Her balanced yet strong features blended into a beautiful face, befitting a Goddess. And although her visage projected loveliness, her eyes were red rimmed, and her cheeks stained with tears.

  “What’s going on out there?” Gabriella DeMarco Sisera demanded.

  “Nothing for you to be concerned about, Lady,” the servant assured her.

  Blinking, she cleared her eyes and stared beyond the iron bars.

  “Hektor. Oh Hektor, is that you?” she shouted while running towards the gate. Before reaching the iron bars, she demanded. “Open it, this instant.”

  Hektor was halfway through the entrance when Gabriella crashed into him. Squeezing him to her breasts, she cried softly.

  “You brought Phobos home, thank you,” Gabriella whispered. “He’s gone Hektor. By the Goddess Algea, and her gift of pain, I miss him so.”

  “Lady DeMarco, I can’t accept that he’s dead,” Hektor stated.

  She pushed him back to the limit of her arms, stooped forward, and gazed into his eyes.

  “Of course, Alerio is dead. Everyone, every report says it,” Gabriella uttered. “How can you believe differently?”

  “Before he sent me away, he made a Tribune’s Oath,” Hektor explained. From under his shirt, he lifted the chain with the Helios pendant and displayed it on the palm of his hand. “Alerio Sisera, as a senior officer of the Legion, swore to me that he would return home for all the things he loves. You, Lady DeMarco, Senator Spurius Maximus, Lady Aquila Carvilius, his birth family, and his new offspring. I am positive that he will present this necklace to his child when he returns.”

  Gabriella blinked away her tears, straightened her shoulders, and released the boy.

  “Put Phobos in the stable, then come into the villa,” Gabriella directed. “There’s something about Alerio Sisera’s son that you should know.”

  Chapter 24 – Off the Punic Coast

  Alerio stood on the east wall peering out at the blue-green water.

  “Your supplies were timely,” Colonel Balint admitted. He walked from the ladder positioned at the nearest lookout tower. “If you were prisoners, how did you accumulate that much meat?”

  “I convinced the building’s owner that we needed work crews outside the city,” Alerio answered. “We assigned more workers than the job required. The extra men hunted and fished.”

  “You’re telling me your escape was planned?” Balint asked.

  “From the first day,” Alerio confirmed. “But we couldn’t have completed the plan without the help from the Noricum infantry.”

  Balint’s face sagged as he tried to comprehend how an Empire mercenary force aided in the Legionaries escape.

  “It’s a lesson in honoring commitments to auxiliary units,” Alerio commented. “And in treating them with respect.”

  “Colonel, warships on the horizon,” a lookout called down from the top of the tower. “They’re coming from the east.”

  Balint and Alerio strained their eyes, but neither had the blessing of Theia, the Goddess of Sight, or the elevation of the tower.

  “How did Centurion Palle die?” Alerio inquired.

  “The Thracians came at us in the dark,” Balint replied. “They got men over the wall and were attempting to open the gates. Palle led the attack that stopped them. During the skirmish, he took a sword strike to the neck. I was holding the inner drill field in case they broke through. One moment he was bellowing and encouraging his Legionaries. An instant later, the clash became surprisingly quiet.”

  “It appears Nenia took him quickly,” Alerio remarked. With a glance at the morning sky, he uttered. “Thank you for that.”

  “Excuse me?” Balint inquired.

  “It’s nothing,” Alerio said deflecting any conversation about his prayer.

  “Empire ships-of-war rowing from the north,” the lookout announced.

  “I hope the Republic brought more than a few merchant vessels,” Balint commented.

  The coastal waters filled with Empire ships-of-war. They rowed by Fort Kelibia, heading south. Enough went south that a second line was formed from the ships-of-war heading north on their way back. The two columns to slid by each other in unbroken lines Empire ships.

  “Lookout, give me a count,” Balint instructed.

  “Sir, we’re guessing at two hundred and ten Qart Hadasht ships-of-war,” the Legionary reported.

  “That’s trouble,” Alerio remarked. He waved at three NCOs positioned in the center of the fort. In response, two signaled in the negative and Alerio reported it to Balint. “The Thracians haven’t mobilized, Colonel.”

  “As long as they remain stagnant, we’ll be able to watch the developments at sea,” Balint noted. “If not, we’ll be busy fending off an assault.”

  “More ships on the eastern horizon,” the second lookout announced.

  “Can you get a count?” Balint asked.

  A few moments went by before the lookout reported.

  “Sir, we estimate ten squadrons.”

  “Only one hundred warships,” Balint said. “They’ll be sunk during the first assault.”

  “Legionary, what’s happening in the direction of Cape Bon?” Alerio asked.

  “Sir, the Cape is sixteen miles to the north,” the infantryman responded. “Even from the tower we can’t…”

  The men on the platform fell silent.

  “What’s the delay?” Balint demanded.

  “Sir, there are Republic warships closing in from the north,” the lookout answered. “It appears to be fifteen squadrons.”

  “Two hundred and fifty warships against the Empire’s two hundred. Those are far better odds,” Alerio stated. Turning, he waved at the men on the drill field. This time, three pointed at three sides of the fort. He reported to Balint. “Colonel, the Thracians are forming for assaults at the base of the hill.”

  “Are you all right taking orders from me?” Balint asked.

  “Colonel, as I said before, I just want to get home,” Alerio reminded him. “And to get my five hundred men off the Punic coast. Fighting for you to defend our position isn’t a problem.”

  “I’ll take the main gate,” Balint directed. “You cover the other walls.” />
  “Yes, sir,” Alerio acknowledged. Then he shouted at the tower. “Study the sea battle. Later we’ll need reports on the locations of the transports.”

  “Yes, sir,” the watchers on the tower responded.

  ***

  Alerio sprinted from one side of the fort to the south wall. As demonstrated the year before by his Legion Marines, the vulnerable blind spot required extra attention.

  “Sir, you’re wanted at the east wall,” Remus alerted him.

  After noting the Legionary in the tower waving frantically, Colonel Sisera ran back across the drill field.

  “Sir, the transports are closer to shore,” a watcher reported when Alerio reached the top of the ladder. “Some are full of light infantry, but others are empty. What do we do?”

  “We imitate the God Mercury and speed from the fort to the beach,” Alerio replied. As if he was the wing-footed messenger of the gods, he descended the ladder and raced to Colonel Balint at the front gate.

  “We need an exit strategy,” Balint responded when he learned of the transports. “I’ll lead the vanguard.”

  “I’ll take my five hundred men and guard your rear,” Alerio told Balint. “I’ll see you in Rome, sir.”

  “Yes, Colonel Sisera, you will,” Balint promised.

  The two Battle Commanders separated. Both held hope for the future in their attitudes and their optimism translated to their twenty-five hundred Legionaries. Soon fire consumed extra gear, creating a column of smoke rising above Fort Kelibia. In the smog that settled over the drill field, Balint waited with a Century of veterans tasked with punching a hole in the Thracian siege line. He couldn’t see the gates through the fog but knew Sisera’s five hundred crowded around them. The only elements missing were Colonel Sisera and the go signal. Those were at the top of the east tower.

  “What do you think?” Alerio asked the watchers.

  “The transports rowed in behind a line of warships then stopped,” one answered. “They’re still staged out there, Colonel.”

  “Who can blame them with so many ships-of-war present,” the other Legionary added.