The guttural screams rose in pitch. “Here they come!”
Chapter 12
The new day dawned muddy with gloom over Brittenburg. Thepall of smoke from the burning buildings and factories lay heavily upon theonce glittering jewel of the Roman Empire.
Centurion Julius Brutus Caesar shook off the fatigue thatthreatened to engulf him. He was one of a line of tired men who stood facingthe square. The rioters had thrown themselves against the cohort again andagain. Just when the Imperials thought they had the upper hand, a new threatappeared. A small force of Nortland raiders and well-armed and equipped rebelshad stormed the posterior gate, and succeeded in breaching it.
The messenger from legionnaire Manus had barely managed toget away, but he’d informed the rest of the cohort in time; they’d met this newdanger head-on in the gardens, and a nighttime running battle ensued. The 13thCohort had lost its formation and been battered by the individualistic Nortlandsavages, but numbers finally began to tell-the lines had stabilized and thelegionnaires had cut down the attackers. The battle had ended just now.
Julius had remained at the main gate with barely twenty men,feigning a strength that was not there until the remainder of the mob hadslowly dispersed. There were scarcely a hundred die-hards on the other side ofthe plaza, looting stores but not bothering the entrenched cohort.
An injured soldier moved up to the Julius’s position. Theyhad continued to use everyone, except the most critically injured, to fill gapsin the line. Julius could see the bloodstained bandages peeping out from underhelmets and wrapped around hands and arms. Thanks to their superior trainingand heavier armor, the legionnaires had suffered fewer injuries, althoughalmost everyone was battered black and blue under their heavily dented armor.
“Message for the tribune. I can’t locate him, so I found youinstead, sir,” the man said, his voice unapologetic and hoarse. He adjusted thesling on his right arm with a tug.
“Thanks, Tramais. Hold up one minute.” Julius opened thefolded sheet of paper with grimy hands, careful not to smudge the words. Hepushed his helmet back off his head so he could see the small lines of printedtext, and read slowly, wishing he were a faster reader. I’m going to have toborrow books from someone. I can’t look slow in front of the other officersnow, he thought, suddenly conscious that he had not received the besteducation. Even the legions needed men who could read and write, as well asswing a sword.
By the time he had finished reading, legionnaire Tramais hadsettled on a broken piece of statuary. He pushed to his feet when Julius turnedto him. “Take this to the tribune immediately. Please tell him I’ll begathering what people I can spare at the fountain,” Julius said, referring tothe large fountain located in the middle of the palace grounds, making it aconvenient assembly point.
“Sir.” Tramais saluted awkwardly with his left hand and leftto find Tribune Appius.
Although he was a slow reader, Julius had an excellentmemory. Now, just where am I going to get the men to storm the main curtainwall gate?
Despite his doubts, half an hour later, Constantine andJulius had managed to assemble seventy-five men for the operation.
“Centurion, you know the city best, so I want you to leadthe charge,” the tribune ordered. “I’ll remain here with the rest of our menand the garrison to hold the fort, so to speak.” Despite the quip, there was nohumor left in the tribune’s stance. He was determined, but tired, and his lefthand was tightly wrapped in a bandage. But the fingers poking from the bandagesstill moved, and his face showed not a hint of pain.
I guess royalty still has some steel in their spines,Julius thought as he saluted. “You want me to retake the main city gate withseventy-five men, sir?” he asked again. He remembered passing through theimposing steel gates, with their stone towers stretching ten stories tall.
“General Minnicus has ordered us to retake the gate inpreparation for the arrival of the rest of the legions. If we don’t retake it,we can’t get reinforcements. We’ve got support from units of the city garrison,but we’ll have to get to them through streets that are still in control ofrioters. So I leave the choice of routes up to you. Captain Alexandros will besupporting you with heavy weapons fire.”
The tribune handed Julius a map of eastern Brittenburg. “Hehas also been kind enough to send down this street map indicating the streetshe’s certain are blocked.” Julius looked at it. Almost half the roads werecrossed out in red ink. Constantine’s finger tapped the symbol identifying themain gate. “It’s possible that enemy forces have gained control of the gate. Weknow for certain they have gained control of the two nearest towers.” Hisfinger circled the towers on either side of the gate complex. “This could meanthe gate is in enemy hands, or it could mean the gate is in our hands, but wecan’t communicate with it. The Laurel flag still flies, but that could be aruse. Keep your eyes open, but you must take that gate.”
The tribune placed his hand on Julius’s shoulder. “Don’tdoubt yourself. You know this city inside and out. The key to leadership is tolead by giving smart orders and not losing your cool, and I’ve already seenthat in you, last night.”
Julius nodded. Setting his shoulders, he met Constantine’seyes. “You can count on us, sir.”
Constantine gave a grim smile. “I’m going to return to thegate here on the governor’s estate. I’ll leave operations in your capablehands.” He turned and left.
Julius spent the next half-hour assembling his men and goingover the route they were going to take. It was only a twenty-minute march away,assuming no roadblocks or other interruptions. He planned to seize the northerntower after picking up some garrison remnants supposedly holed up in a templeabout halfway between the governor’s mansion and their objective.
He formed his demi-cohort up, and they left the relativesafety of the estate and headed east. The streets were deserted, littered withpaper and clothing and sometimes a dead body. Julius gave orders that anycorpse should be moved gently to the side of the street and treated with asmuch dignity as possible. This was his city; he was not going to debauch itfurther. The pace of his march slowed somewhat, but Julius refused tocontradict his original orders.
A wave from a scout brought the column to a halt. “Twominutes rest,” he told his men before advancing slowly over the brokencobblestones to the scout waiting at the corner of a building.
“Marcus, what do we have?”
“Look in those buildings over that way, right in front ofthat barricade across the street,” the scout said, pointing toward the corner.
Julius doffed his helmet and peeked around the corner.“Second building from the left, sir,” Marcus advised.
Julius watched for a moment. He saw the slightest ofmovements, and focused on that. “They’ve got a heavy repeater in that shop!” heexclaimed. Although the shadows did a good job of hiding the war machine, theyhad not concealed the telltale shine from the metal components.
“How would you like to deal with it? We can go around, butit would add a chunk of time.” Or we can go through it, the scout hadleft unsaid. He was an experienced member of the legions, and was not as naïveas most of the rest of his men, Julius assumed.
“Have you spotted any more enemies? Do we even know if theyare enemies?” Julius asked. The scout shook his head slowly, probably wonderingif the new centurion wanted him to sign his own death warrant. Sensing hisconfusion, Julius explained himself. “Just wondering. I figured you’re the bestscout we have, Marcus, so you’d be the one to get the closest and figure outexactly who those people are. Wait here a moment, and I’ll be back.”