Muted Implications (Clay Warrior Stories Book 12)

by J. Clifton Slater

  ***

  “Numbers and the meaning of columns of numbers creates balance,” the accountant lectured Alerio. “From the balance, an astute businessman can make value judgements.”

  After learning from the accountant, the lawyer took over and drilled Alerio on Roman law.

  “The Twelve Tables are the core of our laws,” the teacher said. “The laws cover private disputes and deal with relations between individuals. As the Republic is the greatest relationship all citizens have, the Twelve Tables are relied on for civil actions and penalties.”

  Alerio’s eyes and head hurt after reviewing only the first tablet.

  “Here, sir,” Belen offered a cup of vino. “You’ve had the worst of it for today.”

  “I thought there was one more,” Alerio whined.

  “There is,” Belen established. “The surveyor is waiting on the patio.”

  Dreading more strict lessons, Alerio sauntered out the backdoor.

  “Can you locate your father’s property in the city?” the fourth tutor inquired.

  On the patio pavers, streets were laid out with blocks standing in for buildings. Alerio walked around the models sipping his wine.

  “Villa Maximus is off to the right,” he described. “The government building’s location is off by one street.”

  The surveyor rushed to Alerio’s side. But he was not there to engage the Senator’s son. Rather, the tutor squatted down and examined his own work.

  “How did you see that?” he asked.

  “I’m a Legion trained map maker,” Alerio advised. “If I miss details, Legionaries die. You see, I cannot misplace landmarks. Your street scene is missing entire blocks.”

  “Then let me teach you about the instruments we use to measure acreage,” the surveyor offered.

  “That, I would like to know,” Alerio agreed.

  ***

  Every day for two weeks, all sixteen days per the Roman calendar, Alerio ran and talked philosophy with Eridian. Then he worked with numbers and listened about balance from the accountant.

  Later each day, the finer points of law were crammed into his ears by the lawyer. However, after working with the survey instruments, Spurius Maximus’ adopted son flexed the power of his position.

  “Optio Affatus, give me two armored household guards,” Alerio ordered.

  Civi cringed and went to the guards’ quarters.

  “Young Master Sisera needs two practice dummies,” Civi informed the six off duty sentries.

  They did not complain or voice objections. One pulled out a pair of die and they threw for who would run sword drills with Death Caller. They could defend themselves and team up to deliver punishment to the Senator’s son. They could and did at times. But mostly, it was Sisera beating on two former infantrymen.

  ***

  A shadow appeared in the office doorway. Spurius Maximus stopped reading and put aside the scroll.

  “Lady Carvilius, you of all people should never wait at my door,” he scolded.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you,” Aquila told her husband.

  “Something is troubling you,” Maximus observed. “What is it?”

  “I am both happy and sad,” Aquila described. “As you know Spurius, I’ll be returning to our country estate soon. The air in the city does not agree with me.”

  “I understand,” Maximus admitted. “Is that the reason for your emotional state?”

  “No. It’s Alerio. He brings joy to my heart. You chose well for an adopted son,” Aquila told him. “But it is the same adopted son who gives me pause.”

  “Alerio has absorbed his lessons and impressed his tutors,” Maximus pointed out. “Belen believes he will soon be able to oversee my estate and see after you, should I die.”

  “Spurius Maximus, you will not talk like that,” Aquila reprimanded her husband. She glared for a moment before adding. “I am sad because your son is abusing the household guards.”

  “This is the first time I’m hearing about it,” Maximus blustered. “Any other members of the staff?”

  “No. And he is very careful to hide it,” Aquila said. “But I noticed bruises and asked a guard about them. He admitted the injury came from Alerio.”

  “Belen,” the Senator shouted. “Get me Optio Affatus.”

  A moment later, the sounds of hobnailed boots announced the former Legion NCO before he appeared in the doorway.

  “General, you wanted to see me?” Civi asked.

  “Is my son abusing the household guards?” Maximus inquired.

  Affatus barked out a laugh before catching himself.

  “Yes, sir. It’s brutal and heartless,” he exclaimed. “And right now, I would say your household guards are as proficient as a First Century or, as close as our age will allow.”

  “Sword drills?” Maximus guessed.

  “Yes, sir. Two on one drills with heavy infantry shields and practice gladii,” Civi described, “for the guards.”

  “For the guards? What about my son?”

  “Usually, he uses two practice gladii,” Civi replied. “Rarely does he use a shield to protect himself.”

  Maximus fought to keep the grin off his face when he refocused on his wife.

  “Does that clear up the misunderstanding?” Maximus inquired.

  “There is only one thing to do,” Aquila declared, “when a racehorse repeatedly kicks down his stall.”

  “What’s that?” Maximus questioned. “Sacrifice the beast to the Gods?”

  “Of course not. You put it where the Gods intended it to be,” Aquila responded.

  “And where is that?” Maximus questioned.

  “You enter a high-spirited horse in races where it can run,” Lady Aquila answered. “Alerio needs to be where he is comfortable. Like you, Spurius Maximus, when you were a young man, he needs to be with a Legion.”

  ***

  Three days later, Alerio hammered one shield and kicked the other aside. While the household guards attempted to reset their defense, Alerio shoved between the edges. He was about to deliver a thrashing when a voice called to him.

  “Alerio, come with me,” Spurius Maximus ordered.

  “Thank you for the workout,” Alerio said to the guards. He handed over the heavy wooden gladii. “Put these away for me.”

  “Gladly, sir,” both guards replied.

  Sprinting after the Senator, Alerio caught up with his adopted father.

  “Is something wrong?” he questioned.

  The older man did not speak until they entered his office.

  “It has been a pleasure having you at the villa,” Maximus notified Alerio.

  “Am I going somewhere, sir?” Alerio asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Maximus plucked a scroll off his desk and waved it at Alerio.

  “Yes, son, you are going somewhere” Maximus said while gathering Alerio in a hug. Then the Senator released Alerio and continued. “You are going to be an officer in Consul Lucius Scipio’s Legions.”

  “In which Legion, sir?” Alerio inquired.

  “Colonel Gaius Claudius is the Battle Commander for Scipio Legion West,” Maximus replied. “Claudius seemed rather pleased with the offer and you.”

  “The Colonel and I have history,” Alerio told his adopted father. “He knows my abilities as a Centurion and weapons’ instructor.”

  “You carry an old family name, Alerio Carvilius Sisera,” Maximus warned. “I expect you to win honor for our house.”

  “I will,” Alerio assured the Senator.

  “In that case son, I wish you the Goddess Bia’s own bodily strength and compulsion,” Maximus announced. Then he handed the scroll to Alerio, saluted, and proclaimed. “I believe you will do me proud, Tribune Sisera.”

  Act 11

  Chapter 36 – What Are You Seeing?

  A squadron of quinqueremes broke from the fleet of thirty warships and headed up the mouth of the Tagnone River. Two abreast, the Republic ships rowed passed the mouth of a saltwater lake
. A short way from the Tyrrhenian Sea, the land changed from swamp to cultivated fields. Around a bend in the river, details of a walled town stood out from the tree line.

  “Sisera. Land your left side maniple,” Quadruvii called from his warship, “and secure the town.”

  “Understood, Senior Tribune,” Alerio shouted back across the water. With hand signs, he signaled the alert to five of the quinqueremes following in their wake. Once he could see his Legionaries standing and pulling on gear, the Tribune waved the two Centurions on his ship forward.

  “It doesn’t look like much. What am I missing?” Tribune Sisera asked the infantry officers.

  “The farmland and marshes are too soft for cavalry,” Modus of the Second Century observed. “But you could hide an entire battle line in the forest to the north.”

  “You aren’t missing anything that we can see, Tribune,” Centurion Lolliginis from the Seventh Century suggested to Alerio.

  “What can’t we see?” Alerio asked.

  The two young Legion officers bristled. They admitted to being inexperienced combat officers and they knew their Legionaries were untested. What they wanted were direct orders. While most Tribunes spoke in clear statements and gave specific instructions, Sisera questioned everything. Tribune Gracchus, the staff officer commanding the other half of the first maniple, as well as, the Tribunes for the second and third maniples communicated distinctly. Not Tribune Sisera. He asked questions. Or, he put you in the dirt for not being aggressive enough. Even then, he asked questions while you were on your back.

  “There are no obvious defenders,” Lolliginis offered.

  “Where are they?” Alerio inquired.

  “Sir, we can’t tell from here,” Centurion Modus blurted out.

  “When will you be able to tell me?” Alerio quizzed.

  “When we land, sir,” Modus replied.

  “When will you know for sure?” Alerio insisted.

  “We will know after we patrol the likely ambush spots,” Centurion Lolliginis proposed.

  “Where are the likely ambush spots?” Alero asked.

  “The tree line,” the officer from the Seventh Century remarked.

  “And the swamp grass area,” Modus from Second Century answered. “Orders, sir.”

  “I’m putting the Third, Fourth, Fifth, and the Sixth Centuries online. We will assault the town of Aleria, Corsica,” Alerio listed for them. Then he fell silent.

  “I meant orders for us, sir,” one of the Centurions inquired.

  Alerio twisted his head to the side, creased his forehead, and stared at the two officers. Heartbeats later, they both braced.

  “We are patrolling the tree line and the swamp,” Modus suggested.

  “Good idea,” Tribune Sisera commented.

  The two young officers went to pull on their gear. As they weaved between Legionaries dressing, they leaned into each other.

  “Death Caller is in rare form today,” Lolliginis suggested.

  “And again, we get the nastiest details,” Modus added. “I wonder if Senior Tribune Quadruvii knows how much we hate Sisera?”

  “Not anymore than our Senior Tribune hates our Tribune,” Lolliginis allowed. Then he mimicked Sisera’s voice. “Where are the likely ambush spots?”

  “It’s so obvious,” the other youthful infantry officer complained. “The tree line and the swamp.”

  “Exactly.”

  Modus and Lolliginis separated, each going to a different area of the deck to slip on their armor. Neither realized the obvious ambush sites were not apparent when Tribune Sisera called them forward.

  ***

  Four Centuries hustled into an assault line. Behind the three hundred and twenty infantrymen, four Centurions along with their NCOs, matched steps and watched the walls of Aleria. Behind the infantry officers, Tribune Sisera kept pace, but he was not watching the town. His eyes shifted north to the tree line where eighty Legionaries from the Seventh Century searched the forest. While they patrolled the trees, to the south Second Century fought their way through mud, slush, and chest high swamp reeds.

  “Maintain your line,” Alerio bellowed when Third Century lagged. “Centurion, tighten them up.”

  The officer, Optio, and Tesserarius of the Third jogged forward. They pushed and shoved infantrymen until the line was arrow straight.

  At half the distance between the river and the town of Aleria, the head and shoulders of a man appeared above the stockade wall. A piece of grey cloth drooped from the end of a pole. In a smooth motion, he began waving the flag over his head.

  “What is he signaling?” Alerio shouted.

  The four officers consulted their Century’s NCOs. None ventured a guess. While nothing seemed to be happening based on the flag, the Legionaries on the assault line visibly flexed their backs.

  “Are the shield straps secured?” Alerio asked the officers.

  The question brought a round of Centurions, Optios, and Tesserarii rushing to check on the infantrymen. Checking straps gave the leaders a chance to speak with each Legionary and steady the nerves of the young infantrymen.

  Alerio scanned the six Centuries of the Legions rawest infantrymen. As their Tribune, he used questions to teach and direct actions. Although all the Legionaries had passed qualifications as Legion heavy infantrymen, they were unbloodied and untested. Their Centurions were as new to command as the infantrymen were to obeying orders. Only the NCOs had earned their rank. But their experience as well was limited. Pleased at the Centuries’ reactions so far, Alerio relaxed.

  Cries of pain and surprise reached him. Alerio’s head snapped to the north and the tree line. Then his attention was pulled by a fearful scream from the swamp.

  Adding to the urgency, a Centurion on the assault line warned, “Incoming arrows. Shields up.”

  Tribune Sisera’s sense of ease vanished as the three elements of his command came under attack. Gritting his teeth, he watched helplessly as a trio of ambushes unfolded.

  He wanted to run to one of the sites and do something. But once blades crossed, a staff officer could do nothing unless major maneuvers were required. Until then, Alerio clenched his fists and watched to see if his training of the Centuries would save lives or cost lives.

  ***

  Centurion Lolliginis kicked dried leaves and searched for his Optio. He caught sight of his first squad between trees and headed in their direction. The NCO proved elusive as the officer shifted from forest clearing to forest clearing. For a heartbeat, the young officer thought about pulling his Legionaries out of the woods and reorganizing Seventh Century. But the action would make him appear indecisive and display a lack of self-confidence.

  In his mind he heard Tribune Sisera ask, ‘Are you in control?’

  Ignoring the question, Lolliginis shoved aside a branch and came face to face with a barbarian warrior.

  He might have discounted the value of the Tribune’s question, but Sisera’s insistence on realistic gladius drills caused an automatic response. The blade leaped from the sheath, arched underhanded, and sliced deeply into the warrior’s gut.

  “Fall back,” Lolliginis shouted.

  Cries of pain and surprise intermixed with the repetition of the ‘fall back’ order.

  “Rally on me,” the Centurion called out while he dodged between trees. “Rally on me.”

  By the time he reached the open field and was in sight of the four Centuries, half his Legionaries were running for the assault formation. Finally, his Optio came from the trees.

  “Sir, we should move,” the NCO urged. “The woods are full of barbarians.”

  “Form a shield wall,” Lolliginis instructed. “We’ll walk back and give the rest of our Legionaries a safe harbor.”

  The Optio and two infantrymen locked shields. A third man joined them.

  “Rally on me,” Lolliginis shouted.

  A few more fell in on the moving wall but others sprinted for the large formation.

  Three bleeding men stumbled from
the tree line and fell to their knees. Severely injured, they reached out begging for help. But warriors emerged from the forest and barely paused as they sank spearheads into the trio of wounded Legionaries.

  “Run,” Lolliginis ordered when he realized his small shield wall was about to be overwhelmed.

  The Centurion, his NCO, and the infantrymen sprinted for the large formation and an angry Tribune Sisera.

  ***

  Centurion Modus pulled a hobnailed boot from the mud and cursed.

  “This mud has us perfututum,” the Centurion uttered.

  “Sir, did you say something?” his third squad leader asked.

  “No, Decanus,” Modus lied.

  The misery of patrolling through the swamp had the entire Second Century wallowing in slop and self-pity. Seeing a rock, one of the Legionaries snatched it from the mud and hurled it at a clump of reeds.

  Spinning, the stone split the stalks and…

  A war scream roared from the reeds and warriors rose from the clumps and grassy areas. From a calm marshland scene, the vista changed to a horde of spear toting barbarians.

  “Form on me,” Modus yelled. “Do not try to run. Form on me.”

  He sloshed backward, slowly allowing his squads and NCOs to fall into a loose formation.

  “Shields up people,” Modus instructed. “Why do you think the Legion makes you carry it?”

  Despite the situation, the young Centurion laughed to himself. For a heartbeat, he sounded like Tribune Sisera asking one of his stupid questions.

  ***

  A Centurion on the assault line warned, “Incoming arrows. Shields up.”

  As his voice faded, archers at the walls of Aleria launched a volley.

  Daily shield drills paid off. All the arrows launched by the archers missed or impacted shields. No Legionary on the assault line was injured. Unfortunately, the same was not true for the infantrymen at the tree line or in the swamp.

  Groups of warriors rushed from the trees chasing the Legionaries still on their feet. Those not running or limping avoided the spear thrusts delivered to the backs of the three infantrymen on the ground.

  Second Century, probably due to the mud, had time to form up. The muck slowing the Legionaries also delayed the warriors rising from the reeds. But there were more warriors than Legion infantrymen.