Fortune Reigns

by J. Clifton Slater

  While the line officers filed out, the eight NCO’s in charge of their Century’s finances crowded around Alerio.

  The first Tesserarii to receive and sign off for his share raised the gold bars over his head and jokingly called out, “Fortune reigns.”

  In the rear of the tent and away from the noisy distribution, Gaius and the cavalry officer talked.

  “What happened with Tribune Ireneus?” Gaius asked the cavalry officer.

  “A skirmisher watching post found him stumbling around in the dark,” the Centurion reported. “At first we couldn’t get him to talk. But after washing, he seemed to revive. That’s when he told us about you and Death Caller being trapped in the city.”

  “He never described where he crossed the wall?” questioned Gaius. “Where I would cross the wall?”

  “No, sir. Tribune Ireneus went to his tent to sleep, we thought,” the horseman related. “Before anyone could stop him, he jumped on his horse and galloped away.”

  “Did you send riders after him?” Gaius asked.

  “No, sir. There are Echetla patrols out and it’s too dark to safely go after him,” the officer replied. “We did send skirmishers and two horses to the woods in case you got out. I am sorry about not retrieving Tribune Ireneus.”

  “You made the correct decision. We can’t spare men to chase down a deserter,” Gaius informed the cavalry officer. “Right now, we have bigger issues. Here’s what I need from your mounted Legionaries…”

  ***

  Before the sky lightened, Lieutenant Macario Hicetus and Sub Commander Ezio stood on a platform looking over the wall.

  “Have you found your Tribunes?” Ezio inquired.

  “No. But they’ll turn up,” Macario assured him. “We have men searching the city. The Legionaries are probably holding up in a dark corner. Come sunrise, the light will reveal their whereabouts.”

  “It appears the Legionaries are getting a good night’s sleep,” the Sub Commander said as he pointed in the direction of the Legion camp. Far off, cookfires burned and, although tiny, he could make out the silhouettes of men passing in front of the flames. “They do keep an orderly guard throughout the night. You’ve got to admire their discipline.”

  “You can tell the survivors of your admiration when they’re in your slave pens,” suggested Macario. “Do we allow them breakfast?”

  “Never fight on an empty stomach,” the Sub Commander counseled him. “Let them eat. We’ll dine before crushing them.”

  “I like your confidence, Sub Commander,” commented Macario.

  “If you like my confidence, Lieutenant Hicetus,” boasted Ezio. “What till you see the size of the breakfast my staff lays out. Come, we dine then we fight and kill Legionaries.”

  “I can think of no better way to start my day,” Macario responded as he followed the Sub Commander down the ladder.

  For the Syracusan cavalryman, to be awake this early and sober was a new experience. But since he’d received the acclaim from King Hiero II and the royal proclamation honoring his family and his mother, he felt revitalized.

  ***

  The sun had cleared the mountain tops to the east and the Legion camp seemed peaceful. It remained calm as fifteen hundred soldiers marched through the gates and spread out in lines across the plain. Following the footmen, nine hundred horsemen trotted through the gates.

  Sub Commander Ezio expected to see a panicked flurry of activity. Instead, the Legionaries slept and their cookfires smoked as the flames died.

  “Advance the lines,” the Sub Commander shouted to his Lieutenants. Then he commented to Macario, who rode beside him. “I take it back. Their discipline is not something I admire after all.”

  “You’ll have to change that when they’re working your mines,” ventured Macario.

  The lines of soldiers drew close to the pickets and still there was no response from the Legion camp.

  “Attack the lines,” Ezio commanded.

  Soldiers jumped into the trench, climbed to the sharpened picket poles, yanked them out and ran screaming into the camp. Some tents were hacked to shreds while burning embers were kicked into other tents. Despite the fire and shouting, no one came out to do battle. When the large command tent collapsed, the Sub Commander realized the Legion detachment had fled.

  ***

  Before daylight, twenty-five Velites jogged along the trail. Their food pouches and packs left on horses so the Legionaries traveled light. Spying a campfire flickering in the distance, they slowed and angled for the flame.

  Five Syracusan cavalrymen lounged around the fire, their horses tied on long leads to a lone tree. While their mounts nibbled on grass, the men gnawed on hard bread and cheese.

  “We’ll need to get an early start back to Echetla,” the cavalry Sergeant suggested. “I want one of those Legion short swords.”

  “Lochias, do you think the foot soldiers will let you have any spoils?” inquired another cavalryman.

  “I didn’t say I was willing to fight for one,” the Sergeant responded which elicited laughter from his troops. “I’ll buy one from a soldier.”

  “That’s a fine idea. And a lot safer,” another offered. “After Messina, I don’t want to…”

  A rustling of grass around them stopped the conversation. The five Syracusans grabbed their spears and jumped to their feet. They tightened into a circle forming a ring of iron tips around their cookfire. Whoever emerged for the night was about to be gutted by the cavalry patrol.

  Rather than bandits, ten Velites stood up, drew back their arms and threw. Javelins flashed into the firelight and iron tips pierced the Syracusan’s leather armor. The five cavalrymen fell back into the fire with shafts hanging from their chests.

  “Why do they always circle the campfire,” complained a skirmisher as he grabbed the boots of a dead cavalryman. Pulling the body from the ash and burning logs, he added. “It ruins the fire.”

  “What do you care?” inquired another of the Velites. He picked up a wedge of cheese and a heel of bread. After brushing off the dirt, he added. “We’re not staying long enough to warm our hands.”

  “I know but I like fires,” the first advised his companion as he picked up a wineskin. Waving the vino around, he proclaimed. “The smell of wood smoke, a good days hunting behind you, the stars overhead…”

  “You two poets knock off the chatter and retrieve the javelins,” their Optio ordered as he came out of the dark. “Lance Corporal, you and the remainder of Third Squad take the horses back to the column. The rest of you, rebuild the fire. Make it quick, we’re running out of dark.”

  The fire was stoked as a marker for the column and, the food and drink divided among the skirmishers. As the twenty Velites jogged off, hunting for more patrols along the detachment’s line of march, the five members of Third Squad mounted the horses.

  “Take it slow,” recommended the squad leader. “Senior Tribune Claudius wants the horses healthy.”

  “It’s all right if we run in the dark but not the horses?” a Private grumbled.

  “You aren’t running now,” the Lance Corporal pointed out. “You are riding. If you prefer, I can have someone lead the horse and you can run and catch up with the Optio.”

  “Riding is good,” the Private announced.

  The five mounted Velites nudged the horses forward and they headed back to the column.

  ***

  All night, the Legion cavalrymen placed wood on campfires, paced back and forth in front of the flames before moving to the next campfire and repeating the tasks. Almost one hundred fires blazed throughout the night and the guard posts appeared to be occupied, thanks to twenty cavalrymen. Long before dawn, all of them received a visit from their officer.

  “Burn your wood,” the Centurion ordered each man as he arrived at their cluster of fires. “Filter out in pairs and walk your horses. Don’t mount until you reach the Optio.”

  “How far out is the Sergeant?” asked one of the horsemen.

 
; “Far enough so the Echetla soldiers on guard duty don’t hear your clumsy cūlus stomping around,” offered the officer. “Stoke your fires and get moving.”

  The order was repeated eighteen more times before the Centurion tossed wood on his fires and untied his mount. He guided the horse through the opening in the picket line and away from the detachment’s camp. Far from the fires and abandoned tents, a voice spoke to him.

  “All accounted for and on their way, sir,” his Sergeant reported.

  “Then we better catch up,” the officer responded as he mounted. “How far is the column?”

  “No idea, sir,” the Optio answered as he mounted. “But we have to get over two hills before the sun catches us or all this subterfuge will be for naught.”

  They gently kneed their horses, letting the animals pick their way over the dark ground. With their exit, the last of the Legionaries had left the plain of Echetla. But the detachment was a long way from the crossroads and the safety of the Legion.

  Chapter 26 – Give me a Day

  The sun came up on the detachment and everybody was fatigued, footsore and hungry. Except for short breaks, Senior Tribune Claudius had kept them marching ahead of the Syracuse and Echetla foot soldiers. Even the enemy cavalry maintained a respectful distance.

  Once, the nine hundred horsemen had done an all-out charge. They discovered the Legion detachment could assemble in two lines of two hundred eighty-five Legionaries rapidly and effectively launch five hundred and seventy javelins before the first horse reached the shield wall.

  The uninjured cavalrymen from Syracuse and Echetla settled for stalking the Legionaries. Far behind them, their soldiers were never close enough to be a threat.

  ***

  Alerio shifted his shoulders under the infantry armor and repositioned the big shield on his back.

  “Troubles, weapons instructor?” Private Vindictam inquired.

  “It’s not the three days of marching, Honey Cakes,” Alerio replied. “It’s the mismatched armor.”

  “It’s all they had in the supply wagon,” the squad leader informed him. “You could have stayed with the Senior Tribune.”

  “He has no use for a bodyguard and I was sick of riding,” Alerio explained. “I’m an infantryman, not a Tribune.”

  “No offense Corporal, but you are a little crazy to refuse a mount,” Vindictam offered.

  The Legionaries of the Second Maniple, Sixth Century all agreed. Most were too exhausted to actually vocalize their support.

  ***

  “We’ll reach the crossroads sometime during the night,” Gaius informed the line officers at one of the infrequent breaks. “The land is open so I want a Century and our cavalry dedicated to the rear in case their horsemen decide to come around us.”

  “Sir, could we use one of the old Legion camps?” inquired a Centurion.

  “If we stop, their horses and foot soldiers would surround us,” Gaius informed him. “It wouldn’t take long to whittle us down to nothing. Our best hope is reaching the Legions at Syracuse. It’s another four days of hard marching. But, then we’ll have the numbers to face them.”

  “Sir. The Sixth Century will take the rear guard,” Centurion Geraldus offered. “Besides, we have a secret weapon.”

  “Death Caller?” another officer asked.

  “I prefer weapons instructor Sisera,” Geraldus informed him.

  “How is the Corporal holding up?” Gaius inquired. He already had an idea as he could see most of the detachment during the march. He hoped the other Centurions would pick up a little motivation from a good story.

  “When we marched out of camp, the squads got mixed up and couldn’t tell who was marching with them,” Geraldus related. “In the daylight, they recognized Corporal Sisera and the men avoided him. I didn’t know if it was his reputation as Death Caller or his training techniques. In any case, on the second morning, one of my Privates twisted an ankle. Sisera was the first to reach him. After wrapping the ankle, he took the injured man’s helmet, pack, javelins and shield. The Century watched as he struggled under the load of equipment while pacing along with the limping Legionary. Finally, someone called out, ‘Let’s see some fancy weapons instructions now.’

  A few of the Centurions chuckled as their Centuries had suffered through Corporal Sisera’s training sessions.

  “He could only see half a length in front of him through the equipment,” Centurion Geraldus continued describing Alerio’s reaction. “I can’t see, I’m overloaded and a little busy. But, come over here. So, the Legionary came up behind the weapons instructor and mimicked walking with an armload. He added a waddle to the effect and the Century roared in amusement. Suddenly, Corporal Sisera spun around as if confused. His armload of equipment smacked the comedian. Apologizing and asking for forgiveness, he swung the load back and knocked the Legionary off his feet. Then while facing off to the side, Sisera tripped over the downed man and kneed him in the face. After standing, still holding all the gear, he went back to the limping man and announced, a trained Legionary is deadly. Even when he is doing his laundry.”

  “What does laundry have to do with this?” one of the line officers asked.

  “It’s a euphemism for being ready no matter what you’re doing,” Geraldus answered. “After that, Private Honey Cakes, excuse me, I meant Private Vindictam took the extra shield. And my best shield, Private Hermanus took the pack. Other men took the rest of the gear. Then, weapons instructor Sisera allowed the injured man to lean on his shoulder so he could keep pace. Tribune Claudius, the Legionaries of Second Maniple, Sixth Century will defend your rear, sir.”

  “Yes, you will and successfully, I have no doubt,” Gaius exclaimed. “Gentlemen. If there are no other stories, get them on their feet and marching.”

  ***

  The sunlight faded and the detachment tightened the columns. Marching when you could see the man in front and at your side gave you comfort. In the dark, his voices or reaching out was the only way to assure yourself they were in position.

  A horseman came out of the dark and approached the forward element.

  “Halt!” ordered the Velites walking far ahead of the columns.

  After a few words, the cavalryman was allowed to pass. Hearing the commotion and wanting to know what brought the man, Senior Tribune Claudius kneed his horse and met the rider at the head of the columns.

  “Sir. There’s trouble at the crossroads,” the rider informed Gaius. “We sent a few scouts ahead to check the way. Tribune Claudius, there are Legion units on the road.”

  “That doesn’t sound like trouble,” Gaius ventured. “In fact, it’s good news.”

  “No, sir. The units are the guards for the supply wagons and the mules. Plus, there are walking wounded and more critical in medical wagons,” the messenger explained. “Colonel Requiem ordered them away from Syracuse. The infantry is trying to disengage and retreat. But, sir, they have been in contact for two days and nights.”

  Senior Tribune Gaius Claudius’ stomach knotted, and his breath caught in his throat. For three and a half days his detachment had stayed ahead of a large enemy force. Now, he had to stop running and fight to protect supplies and wounded Legionaries. He lifted his face to the night air, inhaled and dropped his chin.

  “Take all of our mounted Legionaries to the crossroads,” Gaius ordered. “Requiem Division’s old camp is closest to the crossroads. Have the wagons and mules circle up there and start rebuilding the defenses. We’ll get there as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. The cavalry officer trotted away and vanished in the dark.

  Claudius twisted around and yelled.

  “Centurion Geraldus, gather your NCOs and Corporal Sisera, I’m coming to see you,” Gaius called out as he reined his horse about and walked the animal towards the rear of the columns.

  His request was passed back through the ranks. As the horse clopped along, Gaius was troubled. His next order would send Legionaries to their death. But, he h
ad no choice. Sliding off his horse, he stood waiting for the leaders of Sixth Century to arrive along with the detachment’s weapons instructor.

  ***

  “Legionaries, we have used misdirection, subterfuge, stealth and intestinal fortitude to stay ahead of a superior force,” explained Gaius to Sixth’s Century’s command staff. “But we have come to the end of Minerva’s blessings. We are forced to cast away military strategy and the tactics of evasion. The Legions at Syracuse are in distress. It falls to our detachment to prepare a strong point for them to fall back to while protecting their wounded. However, it will take an entire day to prepare our defenses.”

  “What do you need from the Sixth, sir?” asked Centurion Geraldus.

  “The enemy cavalry delayed for at least a day,” answered Gaius. “I need them hurt so badly, they can’t ride on us in force.”

  “We can use a fighting square,” Geraldus offered. “We’ll march into their camp and fight until their numbers are reduced. Then, we’ll do a fighting retreat to your position.”

  “Very noble, Centurion,” Gaius commented knowing that most of Sixth Century would fall during the constant fighting. “Do any of the NCOs have thoughts?”

  No one replied for a few heartbeats until Alerio spoke.

  “Sir, a fighting square will be a stationary position allowing the cavalrymen to back away,” he described. “It’ll require them to come to us. I don’t believe they will willingly throw themselves on our gladii.”

  “You’re recommending an assault line,” ventured Gaius.

  “They can circle around our line or even punch through and get behind us,” Centurion Geraldus pointed out. “We’ll be devastated before we do any real harm.”

  “Yes sir, that’s correct,” acknowledged Alerio. “However, in training sessions, I work the men in three-on-three drills. If we attack in widely spaced trios, we can move through their camp, turn around and come back through. It’ll require less coordination and do more damage.”