Julius calmly saluted with perfect precision, and watchedGwendyrn’s face color slightly. “Good luck, Centurion Gwendyrn.”
As Gwendyrn turned and ordered his men out of the room ontothe battlements, Julius turned to the rest of his men. “Secure the tower, roundup any weapons, dispose of the dead, and place a guard on the ground floor. Iwant to initiate contact with the remnants of the garrison up here. And getsome men on these weapons!” He pointed to the heavy artillery pieces.
Men scrambled to follow his orders. He turned to LegionnaireKlautus. “Follow me. I want to get this wireless set up and running.”
The room was chaotic for the next few minutes as men trampedup and down the stairs, carrying bodies down and fresh supplies up. One manfound the red and green flag of the Empire and raised it on the flagpole.
Julius found himself lightheaded for a moment as theentirety of the situation crashed down upon him. He had led men, ordered thedeaths of an entire group of enemy fighters, including citizens of his owncity, and now he felt proud? How could he feel this?
He climbed the ladder up to the observation deck and tookseveral shaky steps over to the city side, looking out across the panorama ofthe city. His city. Pulling out his expensive “borrowed” binoculars-theowner of the fine optics shop had deserted his building and even forgot to lockup-he aimed them at Sludge Bottom. He fiddled with the dials, even finding asetting that let him see possible heat signatures in some buildings-That’suseful-but it was no help. A heavy pall of dark smoke and fog lay over theentire western portion of the city. The Nortland airship was bobbing in and outof the smoke, engaging in a cat and mouse game with the smaller Scioparto.
Sighing, he tucked the binoculars back into their paddedcase and secured it carefully to his belt. From a small pouch he withdrew apocket watch and flipped it open to regard his sister’s picture, on the insidelid. He closed his eyes for a moment.
A short cough pulled him from his thoughts. LegionnaireKlautus stood behind him. “Sir, I’ve got the wireless working. But before youcontact base, you may want to hear this.”
Julius nodded that he should continue.
“Centurion Gwendyrn reports that the gate garrison hasopened their doors and acknowledge your authority over them. The main gateshave been opened as per your instructions.”
Julius leapt for joy, the bristles of his helmet scrapingthe ceiling. “Yes! Alright, get that message off quick to the tribune. He willdefinitely be happy to hear that.”
“Sir, look!” called a lookout. Julius turned to see himpointing at the gate towers. From each one a long, flowing Imperial flag hadbeen dropped to hang against the dark walls. Julius extracted his binocularsagain and trained them across to the other towers. All along the wall, theformerly neutral tower wardens were flying imperial flags.
Julius beamed. All of a sudden, those long odds didn’tappear to be quite so impossible as before.
The long red line wound through the eastern gate into thecontested city. Julius watched from above the main gatehouse, eyelids heavywith exhaustion. His men had held the gatehouse and neighboring towers for thelast two days against several enemy assaults. They had been left without aircover the first day, as the Scioparto had departed to meet up with thetrain bringing the rest of the legion. Only the absence of fire from the enemyairship indicated that they had run out of bombs to use against the defenders.The Scioparto had returned on day two, bringing enough men to secure thegovernor’s mansion and expand the grasp of the loyalist forces.
The reinforcements had joined in several pitched streetbattles fought around and along the route from the gate to the mansion until acorridor had been cleared and secured. A newfound respect and a growing senseof brotherhood was forming between the city garrison, the remainingconstabulary forces, and the strengthened 13th Cohort. The effective strengthof the 13th was rapidly doubling, even with the heavy casualties sustainedduring the street fighting.
Julius watched the XIII Germania continue at a measured paceinto the city, passing the shells of burned out buildings, shattered warmachines, and the aluminum skeleton of the Nortland airship as they moved up tothe mansion. A young centurion walked out into the sunshine behind Julius. Heput up a hand to shade his eyes from the bright noonday sun warming the stoneand steel surface of the battlements.
An orderly squeezed around and brushed past him, murmuring ahasty “Excuse me, sir” as he approached Julius. “Centurion Caesar, sir, we’vebeen ordered back to the mansion for refit and recovery time.” Julius noddedwithout turning around. “Who is the gentleman with you, Latius?”
The other officer stepped up and cleared his throat. “Ahem.I’m Centurion Hortatus of the 4th Cohort, here to replace you at the easterngate.”
Julius nodded. “It’s all yours, Centurion. Take good care ofit. Loyal men fought and died for this gate,” he said solemnly, turning to lookat the new officer.
Hortatus blanched. “You look as though you’ve aged fifteenyears,” he blurted, then colored at the indiscretion.
Julius brought a hand up to the mass of congealed bloodconcealing a gash on his cheek, a souvenir from a close encounter with an enemysword. He had no idea what he looked like, but if his face were any mirror ofhis fatigue, he imagined he looked like hell. Wordlessly, Julius turned andwalked out of the sunshine into the dark interior of the tower, his orderlyfollowing behind him.
“Gather the men; we’re leaving here,” he ordered. The aidescurried off. Julius took a deep breath and leaned on a borrowed plumbata.Weariness had soaked into every bone in his body. He brushed away an imaginaryspeck of dust on his shoulder. His nose wrinkled as he smelled himself. Ugh,I need a bath. That would feel absolutely amazing right now. Lookingaround, Julius sighed. Guess there’s no chance of a bath or even a hotshower anywhere around here.
The thud of boots on the cobblestones behind him piqued hisinterest. Earlier, he would have drawn his sword in a flash, challenging anywould-be intruder or rebel. Now he merely turned slightly, hand going to hisbelt but not even reaching the hilt of his sword.
The survivors of his demi-cohort were arriving. Juliusformed them up, getting them into a … partial … formation. The youngcenturion knew better than to try to force these men into neat, orderly rows.Besides, he just didn’t care.
“Good job, men, you have surpassed all expectations. You aretrue Romans,” he said in a quiet voice. The men nodded, some attempting tosalute with tired arms. Julius jerked his head, and his men moved out.
A short time later, the 13th Cohort was reunited in the mainhall of the governor’s mansion. Tribune Appius stood waiting for his men,having been informed of their impending arrival by an eager messenger boy whohad sprinted all the way to the great hall from the main gate. Outside, thebones of a new legion fort were going up in the estate gardens. The sound ofhammers slowly stilled and, like the men who drifted over to silently watch thebattle-weary legionaries, Constantine moved to a window to witness theirarrival. He was shocked at the ragged look of his men. They did not look likethe green demi-cohort that had been deployed less than seventy-two hours prior.They were a battle-hardened, veteran detachment.
When they were only a couple of meters away, Constantineheard Centurion Caesar order, “Company, salute.” Ignoring theirweariness, the survivors crisply saluted their commanding officer.
For the first time in his life, the tribune felt a stirringin his breast, an extra pounding of his heart. Without thought, his hand cameup in a smart salute. All around him, the men in the hall snapped to attention,regardless of uniform or connection. The young heir lowered his hand,overwhelmed by events.