Muted Implications
Clay Warrior Stories
Book #12
J. Clifton Slater
Muted Implications is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. I am not an historian although, I do extensive research. This book is about the levied, seasonal Legion of the mid-Republic and not the fulltime Imperial Legion. There are huge differences.
The large events in this tale are from history but, the dialogue and close action sequences are my inventions. Some of the elements in the story are from reverse engineering mid-Republic era techniques and procedures. No matter how many sources I consulted, history always has holes between events. Hopefully, you will see the logic in my methods of filling in the blanks.
With her uncapped red pen, Hollis Jones has assaulted the manuscript for Muted Implications time and time again. And because of her editing the book is complete and the story coherent. For her, I am eternally grateful.
Gratitude to my hard-core readers who are Legion. I am not sure if it is because you are many or are spiritual descendants from an ancient Roman army. In either case, Salute!
Table of Content
Muted Implications
Table of Content
Muted Implications
Act 1
Chapter 1 – The Furies
Chapter 2 – Spears & Shields
Chapter 3 – It Is a Go
Chapter 4 - Unexpected Implications
Act 2
Chapter 5 – Personal Creed
Chapter 6 – The Prohibited Teachings
Chapter 7 – Warm War Gear
Act 3
Chapter 8 – Mountain Passes
Chapter 9 – Competent Officer
Chapter 10 – A Rogue Discovered
Act 4
Chapter 11 – In The Capital
Chapter 12 - The Vote Count
Chapter 13 – An Honorary Captain
Act 5
Chapter 14 – Proper Fear Installed
Chapter 15 – Finding a Missing Tribune
Chapter 16 – Little Pony Soldiers
Act 6
Chapter 17 – Bold Execution
Chapter 18 – Lady of the Villa
Chapter 19 – More than Expected
Chapter 20 – 4 Days from the Ides
Act 7
Chapter 21 – War Ponies
Chapter 22 – War and Determination
Chapter 23 – The Escort’s Dilemma
Act 8
Chapter 24 – The Rawest Implications
Chapter 25 – Missing and Found
Chapter 26 – Rapid Trail Strategy
Chapter 27 – The Ides of March
Chapter 28 – Wielding Real Power
Act 9
Chapter 29 – Flexing Political Muscle
Chapter 30 – Follow the Threads
Chapter 31 – The Grisly Cost
Act 10
Chapter 32 – Sneaking into Tivoli
Chapter 33 - Travertine Justice
Chapter 34 – Not Answers or Questions
Chapter 35 - Letters, Numbers, and Bruises
Act 11
Chapter 36 – What Are You Seeing?
Chapter 37 – Assault on the Tribune
Chapter 38 – Undisputed Valor
Chapter 39 – Learn Your Job
Act 12
Chapter 40 – A Promise Made
Chapter 41 – The Temple Debate
The End
A note from J. Clifton Slater
Books by J. Clifton Slater
Clay Warrior Stories series
Terror & Talons series
Call Sign Warlock series
Galactic Council Realm series
Muted Implications
Act 1
The war zone of Sicilia garnered several levels of observations by different entities. One was the assessment from commanders removed from the fray. Another, the misery felt by the citizens as armies rolled over their communities. And finally, the discomfort of the Legionaries with boots in the mud.
The commanders in the Roman Senate were troubled by the allocation of resources. They had spent an enormous amount on building a fleet and training the crews. Favoring naval engagements over land battles, the Republic commanders looked to press their seagoing advantage. In balancing resources, the Senate neglected the Sicilia ground campaign.
Qart Hadasht General Barca Hamilcar took advantage of the shift in mission by the Republic. After catching auxiliary forces camped away from the Legion garrison at Thermae, his mercenaries swept in and killed 4,000 of the troops allied with Rome. For his aggressive tactics, Hamilcar’s men gave him the nickname of ‘Elephant’s Trunk’. But he was not finished. While the Legions disbanded for the season, leaving only garrisons to keep the peace, the ‘Elephant’s Trunk’ moved deeper into Sicilia.
The misery felt by the citizens of Sicilia included the drafting of able-bodied men for the armies. To avoid being pressed into service, some men took to the hills. Banding together, they turned to theft for survival. As groups of vagabonds, the free men were not specifically dangerous. But there were also deserters running the same hills. Armed and trained with shields, spears, and swords, the former soldiers were far more dangerous but few. However, when the two groups combined, they became unattached marauders. In strength, the gangs could attack towns, travelers, and even guarded Legion supply wagons. To counteract the plunderers, Legion units were dispatched from the garrisons.
On the ground in the war zone of Sicilia were the garrison Legionaries. Their observation focused on the depth of mud around their hobnailed boots. As a result of the discomfort, they displayed their displeasure when they tracked down bands of marauders and administered justice.
Welcome to the Ides of March, 259 B.C.
Chapter 1 – The Furies
Brown leaves drifted from the almost bare branches adding to the pile under the tree. Alerio Sisera shifted to peer around the tree trunk and shook his head in resignation.
“They aren’t very impressive, sir,” the Legion Tesserarius remarked.
“They took a wagon of spears and shields and killed four guards,” Alerio warned. “Desperate men, even untrained ones, are dangerous. I don’t want us carrying wounded Raiders back to Enna.”
“What about the marauders, Centurion?” Corporal Milon inquired.
“We will not be hauling any of them back,” Alerio informed the NCO. “Signal the archers.”
A rag tied to the end of the Tesserarius’ gladius flapped in the early morning air. In response to the makeshift flag, a flight of five arrows flashed into the clearing. Marauders crying out in fright or pain jumped up from their bedding. Another volley of arrows impacted with the slower ones.
“Close them in,” Alerio ordered.
From the dull foliage on one edge of the gang’s camp, red capes, and big shields stepped from the forest. Alerio moved away from the tree trunk and stood in plain sight. The red comb of his infantry officer’s helmet identifying the commander of a Legion Century. If the original shouts were shrill, seeing a Centurion appear on the edge of their camp, turned the marauders into a screaming mob.
More arrows flashed into view and several marauders ran at the heavy infantryman. They died on the shields.
Light infantrymen came in from a third side and the panic spread.
The seventeen bandits resembled a stampeding herd of wild ponies. Racing around in a circle, they avoided the direction of the archers, afraid of arrowheads in the face. They dodged away from the shields and blades of the heavy infantry and the skirmishers. None considered dashing
in the direction of the Legion officer for the bulk of the Republic forces would be behind the Centurion.
Closing the ring, the Legionaries stabbed and hacked while tightening the circle. As Alerio ordered, they would not be taking any marauder prisoners back to the garrison.
“It could have gotten ugly if they knew there was only twenty of us, sir,” Milon commented. “Most Centurions would have waited for reinforcements.”
“The Furies were with us,” Alerio pledged to the Corporal. He walked between the bodies studying the dead marauders. “There was no other outcome possible after they killed the allied wagon guards and the family of farmers.”
“How do you figure that, sir?” the Tesserarius questioned.
The infantry officer’s face became slack and his eyes seemed unfocused as if he was seeing something other than corpses in a forest clearing. The look passed quickly, and the Centurion explained.
“Our work was guided by the Furies. How could we fail with the spirits of justice and vengeance on our side?” Alerio commented. “And the Goddess Nenia hovering nearby.”
“Yes, sir,” Tesserarius Milon acknowledged. “I’m going to see about the arrow supplies for the archers and check the men for injuries.”
“Fine. And give my compliments to the bowmen and the rest of the unit,” Alerio offered.
Milon hurried away, leaving the Centurion to inspect the bodies. While the infantry officer’s tactics were extraordinary and he treated the men fairly, Sisera’s familiarity with the Goddess of Death unnerved the Tesserarius.
Alerio used the toe of his hobnailed boot to roll over a few of the bodies. He expected them to be a combination of unattached locals and deserters. But several were from the same nation.
“Samnites,” he whispered. Reaching down, Alerio fingered a necklace at the throat of a corpse. At the end of the chain, a pendent displayed the symbol of the mountain tribes. A sharp jerk broke the necklace. He shoved it into a pouch before remarking to the body. “You are a long way from home, warrior.”
“Sir. Only a few minor scratches,” Corporal Milon reported. “I’ve distributed the stolen spears and shields for transport. We are ready to march.”
“Guide us back to the staging area, Tesserarius,” Alerio instructed. “After a meal, we’ll take the trail to Enna. The men have earned their Republic pay on this mission.”
“Yes, sir,” the NCO said happily.
The Raider patrol had been tracking the marauders for a week and everyone was looking forward to a bath, a soak, and sleeping in a bed. But this was Sicilia and plans changed as readily as the weather.
***
With four men on sentry duty, the remaining sixteen Legionaries of the Raider detachment lounged around campfires. While relaxing, they ate the last of their rations.
“I like your stew just fine, Decanus,” an infantryman complimented his squad leader. “It’s just that I’m sick of salted pork, moldy grain, and wilted vegetables.”
“In three days, you’ll have a better pantry,” the Lance Corporal promised.
Across the encampment, Corporal Milon approached Alerio.
“Sir, do you mind if I ask you a question before we break camp?” he inquired.
“Sit down, Tesserarius,” Alerio instructed. “If it concerns the march, we will push the pace and hopefully make the garrison in two days. Providing the rain holds out. Does that answer your question?”
“In a way,” the NCO submitted. “but the question was more personal.”
“Out with it,” Alerio urged.
“How did an officer with your experience end up here?” the Corporal inquired.
“I received a letter from General Duilius’ headquarters,” Alerio replied. “It directed me to Enna and attached me to the garrison. I wanted to go home to my father’s farm but, orders are orders. Why do you ask?”
“Some officers are fine in maniple combat lines with commanders directing them,” Corporal Milon offered. “Others are good on patrols working with small units. And some are at their best when never leaving the garrison compound. You are the rare Centurion with tactical and practical knowledge. The ambush of the marauders showed that. But you also have the spirituality and presence of a Priest or a Battle Commander.”
“Need I remind you that I am an infantry officer and not a Tribune. You need to be a nobleman and a staff officer to reach higher command positions,” Alerio pointed out. “As far as being a Priest, I’m afraid my gladius skills and temper preclude me from that occupation.”
“Still sir, it’s odd to have an officer of your quality and experience at a garrison buried in the navel of Sicilia,” the NCO remarked. “Although no one on this patrol is complaining. I’ll get them up and on the road.”
“You do that,” Alerio confirmed. But his mind was busy with the idea of why he had been sent to a garrison at Enna.
Located in the center of Sicilia, the town rested at the top of a high plateau. With water and farmland, Enna was impossible to starve into submission. And the steep cliffs of the mesa made it impractical to assault. If not for confederates opening the gates for the Legion, Enna would not be an ally of the Republic.
Enna itself was fine to visit but not for extended periods. Some town folks resented the presence of Legionaries and that was why the Legion garrison occupied a stockade a mile from the plateau. Only a mixed Century on diplomatic duty was station in town.
‘Raider duty at Enna isn’t particularly dangerous,’ Alerio thought as he packed his gear. ‘It’s like being invisible to the rest of the Republic. And that’s not bad, is it?’
The detachment marched out of the staging area. Sometime in midafternoon, heavy dark clouds rolled in and it began to rain. Well trained and experienced, the Raiders unfolded oiled skins and pulled them on their heads and draped the rain slicks over their shoulders, slung helmets, and shields. All steps completed without breaking stride or disrupting their formation.
***
The rain fell, the temperature dropped, and the path turned to mud.
Alerio peered into the sheets of rain and thought about calling a halt. But there was no dry refuge or overhanging shelter. Movement at least kept everyone warm even if it did increase the misery index of the marching Legionaries.
He trudged forward resisting the urge to stop and wait it out. Then, a shape materialized out of the deluge. The specter worked its way down the file of infantrymen until Alerio recognized one of his skirmishers.
“Report,” Alerio ordered.
“Columns ahead,” the Veles described. “As far as we can tell, Centurion, they stretch way back.”
“A reinforced Qart Hadasht patrol?” Alerio guessed. “Although we are too far inland and too far south of their stronghold at Palermo for them to dare it.”
“They have mounted scouts at the front and heavy infantry at the head of the march,” the skirmisher described. “My Decanus said it’s a lot of mercenaries and they appear to be headed to Enna.”
“Tesserarius Milon. Set a defensive perimeter,” Alerio instructed while dropping his gear beside the trail. Once his armor and covered Centurion’s helmet were under the oiled skin, he let the NCO know. “I’m going forward to get a view.”
“Yes, sir,” the Corporal replied.
***
Alerio and the skirmisher reached an area dotted with five individual rain slicks. Each had a bump outlining the dry equipment stored under the oiled leathers. Legionaries would rather be soaked to the skin than get their gear wet. Damp gear required maintenance which was extra work. But without upkeep, equipment failed, and men died.
At the far side of the piles of gear, the Veles dropped to his belly and began crawling. Alerio mimicked him and the two snaked into a thicket of bushes. On the other side, they found a tunnel like trail hacked through the undergrowth. It ended at a hedgerow where two pairs of legs stretched out below the shrubbery.
Alerio crawled under the hedges and squeezed between a pair of skirmishers.
; “Welcome to the party, Centurion Sisera,” the Veles squad leader greeted him.
“What did I miss?” Alerio asked.
“Mounted cavalry and supply wagons,” the Decanus offered. “This isn’t a reinforced patrol. This, sir, is an army on the march.”
Alerio watched as light infantrymen from three different tribes shuffled by the hidden lookout.
“Enna?” he questioned.
“There’s nothing else around here big enough to require that much armor,” the squad leader reported. “And they are between us and the garrison. Orders, sir?”
“What do you think?” Alerio said turning the question around.
“We head southeast to Lake Pergusa and resupply,” the squad leader suggested. “From there it’s twenty-five miles to Centuripe and two reserve Centuries of heavy infantry.”
“Take two of your skirmishers with you,” Alerio ordered. “Alert command at Centuripe about the Qart Hadasht army and get the Legion infantry headed to Enna.”
“What will you do, sir?” the Decanus inquired.
“I’m moving the unit to the east of Enna,” Alerio replied. “If any of our Legionaries make it out of the city or the garrison, I want to be there to help.”
“Seventeen Legionaries against an army are not great or even good odds, sir,” the squad leader remarked.
“But it is enough to stop a cavalry troop from tracking down escaping Legionaries,” Alerio commented. He backed away from the hedgerow then stopped. “Tell Senior Tribune Gaius Caecilius, he might want to alert Senator Gaius Florus in Messina to organize reserves. If the Empire army continues eastward, the Republic could lose all the ground we gained over the last four years.”
“And if he doesn’t believe me, sir?” the Decanus asked.
“Tell the Senior Tribune Death Caller will be with the retreating remnants,” Alerio responded. “and when we get to Centuripe, the enemy will be right behind us. He will have to stand in the assault line and close his own backdoor.”
“Staff officers don’t like to be that close to a shield wall,” the squad leader stated.
Muted Implications (Clay Warrior Stories Book 12) Page 1