Infinite Courage

by J. Clifton Slater

  Corporal Sisera didn’t wait for a reply. He ducked into the tent and went to the Century’s fund box.

  Act 3

  Chapter 9 – Larceny and a Goddess

  Late in the morning, the six contuberniums were in a two wide, three deep formation. Their used and trashy armor and shields left in camp the Legionaries practiced the craft of war dressed in their tunics.

  “Assault,” ordered the Corporal.

  Lunging and lifting their empty left arms, they mimicked a surge, then withdrew the left and followed up with gladii thrusts. Alerio walked between the ranks adjusting stances, hand positions, and the angles of the gladii.

  “Advance,” he ordered again.

  On the beach, horses appeared from the north. The Tribunes, many still drunk from the night before, didn’t ride as sharply as when they headed for the villa. Mounted in the center of the group was a Centurion talking and gesturing towards the practice field. None of the Tribunes paid him any attention. But several noted the lack of armor, shields, and helmets on the Legionaries doing unit drills.

  Once the riders vanished around a bend in the shoreline, Alerio called for a rest period and walked to the mule handlers’ camp.

  “Grilli. Are you sure you and your men want to be involved in this?” he asked.

  “Old mule handlers tell stories about what happens when Legions break,” Grilli replied. “The stories aren’t pretty. If this is what you need to keep us safe, then we’re willing to help.”

  “Bags of onions, beets, radishes, and turnips, and three chickens,” Alerio directed while handing Grilli a pouch of coins. “And be sure your wagons are in place tomorrow.”

  “We’ll be there,” the handler assured him as he snapped the reins on a team of horses.

  His wagon rolled out followed by another wagon pulled by a team of prancing horses. Finally, the driver on the third wagon urged his four mules forward with a snap of the lines. Slower, and with some argument from the animals, the third wagon moved out of the mule handlers camp.

  Alerio watched the wagons until they were on the beach heading southward. Then, he marched back to the Legionaries, “Flank march. Turnabout, brace. Testudo.”

  ***

  Before daylight, Corporal Sisera walked to the 5th Squad’s tent and ordered the sentry to wake the squad. He moved to 6th, 7th and 8th, alerted those watchers then, he strolled to the beach.

  “It’s twelve miles to Velia,” Alerio stated softly when the squads assembled. “We don’t have space in the schedule for injuries. Move quickly but, be careful. Lance Corporals, move them out.”

  Soon the four squad leaders had the twenty-eight Legionaries stepping off and heading south. Alerio relaxed his shoulders, swung his arms, and matched their stride.

  The timing was important. They wanted to reach the gates of the Legion camps fresh and not spent from a run. Yet, arrive during the heaviest flow of morning wagons through the gates when the sentries were the busiest.

  ***

  At the six-mile mark, the squads approached a dry stream bed that angled up and off the beach. It rose gently into the hills to a flat grassy field.

  “Lance Corporal Frentani, give me two men,” Alerio called to the squad leader from the 8th.

  The Corporal pointed up the stream to where four mules, a wagon, and a driver were camped. After a signal from Decanus Frentani, two Legionaries fell out of the march. As they strolled along the banks of the creek to the camp, the remaining members of their squad continued marching southward with the group.

  ***

  Velia appeared off the beach and the squads left the shoreline heading towards the metropolis. By mid-morning, the city was closer and Alerio spotted the Century’s wagons. Grilli had them parked in the shade of the city’s defensive wall.

  “Lance Corporal Aternus, give me two men who like to chat on each wagon,” Alerio ordered the squad leader from the 7th.

  “Shouldn’t we be using stealth?” question the Decanus.

  “Not at all. I want our people bragging about the luxuries at our camp,” Alerio explained. “Stress how they can’t wait to get back with the vegetables. Make it memorable for the sentries.”

  When they reached the wagons, Aternus gave instructions to four of his Legionaries before sending them to the transports. Alerio went directly to the lead wagon and greeted the driver.

  “Grilli. Good morning. How went the purchases?”

  “We have bags of vegetables and I included several bags of apples,” the mule handler informed him. Then he lifted a goatskin cover to expose a crate. “and three sacred chickens.”

  “Were they raised by priests?” asked Alerio, knowing chickens’ bred and blessed by priests in the Capital were expensive.

  “No. But these chickens don’t have enough meat on their bones to feed a squad,” Grilli ventured. “I assume they’re for a sacrifice. Although, the scrawny fowls won’t provide the best of gestures to the Gods.”

  “They’ll do as a substitute for the grandest of sacrifices,” Alerio stated before ordering. “Follow us through the Legion gates.”

  “Wait. What do you mean?” stammered Grilli. “The grandest of sacrifice is…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence because it was an uncomfortable subject. The greatest of animals that could be offered to the Gods was a human sacrifice.

  Alerio ignored the question and the reference. He marched to the front of the formation.

  “Squads, stand by,” the Corporal shouted.

  “Standing by, Tesserarius,” came the response with a stomp of hobnailed boots on the road.

  “Forward march. Left, stomp.”

  ***

  The sentries at the gates watched as twenty-six infantrymen, a Corporal, and two wagons with drivers and another four Legionaries approached the gate.

  “Good morning,” Alerio greeted the guards. “I’m Tesserarius Sisera and I am in command of four squads from Megellus Century. I’m delivering a report to Crassus Legion North. And maybe doing some other business.”

  “Found an excuse to come for the games, Corporal?” one guard inquired.

  “Like my first Optio used to say, never pass up a good fight,” Alerio replied.

  “Let me get a head count and the correct spelling of your name.”

  After logging in the size of the unit, the NCO in charge, and inspecting the content of the wagon beds, the sentries waved them through. They weren’t impressed by the number of sacks in each wagon.

  “I am not enthralled with the Legion camp,” one of Aternus’ men commented from the lead wagon.

  He reached back, grabbed a bunch of radishes, and tossed them to one of the sentries.

  “We have all the best any Legionary could want,” the sentry protested as he caught the vegetables.

  “Our camp is so close to the sea we swim every morning,” offered a man from the second wagon. “After we finish eating stew with boar and vegetables so thick, we have to cut it with a knife.”

  The other man from the 7th Squad lifted the cover to display the wagon load of vegetables. He snatched up a pair of onions and threw them to the other sentry.

  “It’s almost embarrassing how delicious our rations are,” he bragged. “How is the chow in the Legion camp?”

  “Move along,” the other sentry ordered, not bothering to answer. “Keep it moving.”

  The sentries sneered as the wagons passed. Their squad rations were a handful of grain, a little salty meat, and a few wilted vegetables. Once the Legions reached Sicilia, they would receive normal rations. In the meanwhile, the description of the food enjoyed by Megellus Century and the wagons piled high with sacks of vegetables made their mouth’s water.

  ***

  A block from the gate, Aternus leaned out from the ranks.

  “I think the gate guards will remember we’re hauling wagons full of vegetables.”

  “And piles of vegetables are what they’ll expect to find when you leave,” Alerio replied to Aternus. Then he shifte
d to the 5th Squad. “Lance Corporal Caudini, when we get to our campsite, I’ll need four men.”

  “And where will that be, Corporal?” the squad leader asked.

  “Near the armory for Consul Valerius Mesalla’s Legions,” Alerio replied. “We’ll probably be assigned to one of the Crassus Legions. What we’re about to do shouldn’t be done to our own people.”

  “You mean what we’re attempting to do,” corrected the Decanus.

  Regimented squares of tents and facilities for four Legions took up half the Velia valley floor. Sixteen thousand eight hundred heavy and light infantrymen, four hundred artillerymen assigned to the bolt throwers, twelve hundred cavalrymen, eight hundred people in direct support, and a few thousand more for indirect support. All the Legionaries lived in the precisely constructed Legion camps. The layout made it easy to locate the armory of Consul/General Valerius Mesalla‘s Legion.

  “Park the wagons in the grassy area on the forge side,” instructed Alerio. “Set up campfires and boil some vegetables. Give some away to any NCOs who pass by. Act as if we have a lot but don’t give it all away.”

  ***

  A roofless brick structure anchored the armory complex. Large tents attached to one side created the armory’s footprint and housed the armor, shields, and helmets. Right away it became clear why no organization or unit used the space next door to the brick structure. Sharp, loud hammering, yelling, and smoke from the metalworkers’ forges filled the air.

  “There must be fifty Legionaries in the armory,” Pentri Umbria from 6th Squad guessed. “We can’t get much done with them watching.”

  Alerio stretched and swung his arms to loosen up the muscles. Finally, he looked from the armory entrance to Lance Corporal Umbria.

  “Just be ready when they clear out,” the Corporal offered as he pulled his armor, helmet, and shield from under the bags of vegetables. “Grilli. When you’re loaded, don’t wait for me. Get the wagons out of the Legion camp and on the way to ours.”

  “I got you, Tesserarius,” the mule handler assured him. “Where will you be?”

  Alerio lifted an arm and pointed far up the valley. At the end of the Legion tents and before the foothills, a wooden forum had been constructed. High bleachers wrapped around a lower section that was out of sight below the tops of the Legion tents.

  “Lance Corporal Caudini, pick three men who know how to gamble and another who is fast on his feet,” Alerio ordered. Then he spoke to the other squad leaders. “When Mesalla’s Legionaries clear the armory, fill our shopping list, and roll out with the wagons.”

  “What makes you think the armorers will leave?” questioned Lance Corporal Aternus.

  “They will leave, how could they not?” suggested the Corporal. Indicating the cage, he advised. “Lance Corporal Caudini, don’t forget my chickens.”

  He distributed his war gear to the three gamblers and the runner. Then Alerio and his small detachment left the rest of the squads sitting around pots cooking vegetables.

  ***

  Followed by the five Legionaries, Sisera marched through the Legion camp down a major road and finally reached the forum. It wasn’t difficult locating the signup table for the gladius and shield competition.

  “Optio. I assume this is the registration station,” Alerio exclaimed while throwing out his arms as if he’d uncovered a secret.

  The Sergeant glanced up from the stacks of parchment. Clearly written on the documents spread across the tabletop were the names of competitors. Large signs identifying the desk as the registration area rested on the corners of the table.

  “Name and record?” the NCO inquired in a weary voice.

  “That’s just it, Sergeant, I have never lost a sword fight,” Alerio bragged. “Do yourself a favor and keep your best fighters away from me until the later rounds.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “To save them the embarrassment of being eliminated early,” explained Alerio. “Not to tell you how to run a competition, but if I was in charge, I’d want the best fighters in later matches. It’ll please the crowd.”

  Experienced Optios loved to be told explicitly how to do their job. The Sergeant’s jaw tightened, his eyes bulged from the pressure of a near exploding head, and he crushed the quill in his hand. While he searched through the correspondence box for another, the young Legionary stood across the table beaming with pride at helping the NCO.

  “Name?” the Optio asked while grinding his teeth.

  “Corporal A. Sisera,” Alerio replied. “That’s S. I. S. E….”

  “I knew how to spell it,” barked the Sergeant. “You’re registered Sisera. Staging for Mesalla Legions are to the left and Crassus Legions to the right.”

  Alerio looked around the forum. Tunnels in the base allowed competitors to pass from the center area to the outside without having to walk around the structure.

  “Excellent, Optio. You are very proficient at your job,” Alerio complimented the NCO.

  He marched off with an exaggerated swing of his arms and his chin lifted so high he appeared to be looking down his nose at everyone nearby.

  The Sergeant picked up the sheet with the Corporal’s name and placed it on the tabletop. Then, he searched through other piles until he located two notorious fighters known for brutalizing their opponents. He put the two experienced men into an early rotation in the competition. The crowd and gamblers would appreciate named fighters coming out early. And, the Optio would get the satisfaction of watching the first fighter beat some humility into young Corporal A. Sisera.

  ***

  Alerio signaled for his Legionaries to follow him through the tunnel to the Crassus Legion side. A staging area for the fighters included individual zones divided off by bales of hay. Additionally, provided were three side curtains of tent material to give the competitors privacy. And in case a fight went bad, the areas were arranged around a central medical area for stitches and treatment.

  Team Sisera placed the armor, shield, helmet, and the cage with the chickens on the hay bales.

  “Corporal Sisera, I still don’t know how you plan to draw the armorers and metalworkers away from the armory,” Caudini questioned.

  “Give the coins to our betters,” Alerio responded as he dropped onto a bale. “The first two matches will be lopsided against me. Let’s win and increase our Century’s funds on those. After that, the odds will shift to being against my opponents. If during the afternoon, there is an opportunity, they can take advantage by making small bets.”

  “You seem very confident in all of this,” Telesia Caudini suggested.

  “I’m depending on something a friend told me,” Alerio confessed. “Not much good being famous if people don’t know who you are.”

  “Are you famous, Tesserarius?”

  “We’ll see after the first fight,” Alerio promised as he began strapping on his armor. “Pull out a chicken and when I call for it, come quick.”

  “Why the rush to kill a chicken?” Caudini questioned.

  “It’s better than the alternative,” Alerio suggested.

  He slipped on his helmet and went to join the parade of fighters leaving behind a confused squad leader. Caudini stared at the cage with the three undersized chickens as if they could provide an answer.

  Chapter 10 – A Rumor of Infamy

  The Forty-five Legionaries signed up for the competition marched around the inside of the forum. Of the fighters, a few carried fearsome reputations, several were recognizable to a multitude of the Legions, but most were simply favorite fighters from their Centuries. As they circled, calls of support rained down from the tiers of seating as well as shouts of anger at the named fighters. Beating foes and causing men to incur gambling debts had that effect on people.

  Alerio kept his helmet on and used the walkaround to observe his competition. If his jabs at the competency of the scheduling Optio worked, one or more of the more notorious fighters would be assigned to the first round. While punishing the brash Co
rporal A. Sisera was the aim of scheduling a top fighter early, it made Alerio the underdog and created an opportunity to build the Century’s funds. Provided, he won the fight.

  The line of fighters circled the forum before they tightened the formation around the arena part of the floor. Stopping, they each faced outboard and accepted more cheering from the audience.

  “These are your fighters for the day’s competition,” a Sergeant announced from the center of the sandy combat area. “Some you know. Some you don’t care to know. And some, by the end of the day, you will not be able to forget.”

  Cheers erupted at the promise of a day of shield and gladius combat. Every man in the stands depended on his weapons for survival. Today gave the infantrymen a chance to watch skilled people fight with the tools of war. Plus, the competition allowed the Legionaries to relax with a wineskin while placing a few bets. Games were motivation and entertainment for the Legionaries, as much as they were for finding the best fighter.

  “The first match of the day,” the Optio continued. “Pits Optio Recultus against a newcomer…”

  Cheers and boos in equal measure rolled from the crowd at the mention of Recultus’ name. Alerio looked around to see who would have the honor of opening the games and falling victim to the well-known fighter.

  “Corporal A. Sisera,” the Sergeant said finishing the announcement. “Fighters, get your gear.”

  Alerio took the tunnel to where Lance Corporal Caudini and the runner waited.

  “We got a named fighter,” Alerio stated happily as he picked up his shield. “The odds will favor Recultus. We can capitalize on that.”

  “I asked around and Recultus is a brute,” Caudini reported. “He never makes it to the finals but he breaks a lot of Legionaries before he gets eliminated. I don’t think I’d be as pleased if I was in your boots.”

  “But you’re not me. Private, you have two jobs,” Alerio informed the runner. “One is to filter through the crowd and repeat any bad rumor about me you hear. I want the word to spread quickly of how little chance I have against Recultus.”