The Cave



  by

  Tom Cormany

  Copyright Tom Cormany 2011

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  If you enjoy this short story, please search for Mr. Cormany's collection of stories called "Awakenings" by Tom Cormany.

  THE CAVE

  It was a hot, still day and Gaius wished he could take off his helmet.  He also wished that he could be back in northern Italy where he had grown up, but Rome demanded that he be elsewhere.  As the centurion leading this group of soldiers, he had to set an example. So, the helmet stayed on and his thoughts remained on the task at hand. He was to scout a back route to the Carthaginian stronghold.

  He had been in this accursed land for months now.  He had seen some of his men die. That’s war.  Everything was so dry and brown.  He had been tasked trying to find a back route through the wooded hills so his century could come upon the fortress in secret.

  The hills really weren’t much, a couple of hundred feet high and covered mostly in forest.  From the distance, there were patches of bare rock.  It was felt that a small to medium force could make its way through the trees and up behind the fortress without being seen.  The decision to try this route had been made four days ago.  He wasn’t all that familiar with this part of Carthage, but the desert-like atmosphere seemed to fit any place in this gods-be-cursed country.

  He had left the Roman camp and followed an old road into the hills. He was looking for a place to attack from the rear. Meanwhile, the bulk of the Roman army would march around the hills to attack from the front. Should Gaius succeed in his task, he would send back word.  The half-legion reserve would then attack from the rear while the attention of the Carthaginians was kept to the front.  On papyrus, at least, it sounded like a good plan.

  Yesterday, he had captured two hunters in the woods.  After a bit of not-so-gentle persuasion, they told of an old game trail through the woods. They claimed it lead up to a pass in the hills.  Perhaps this would be what they are looking for. The hunters either would not or could not tell where the path ultimately led. Predictably, the hunters did not survive their questioning.

  Still, he was uneasy.  The old forest road was wide enough so three or even four of his men could walk abreast if they needed to.  The forest surrounding him, while dense, provided enough open space that he could see a hundred yards or so into the woods.  No ambushes could be set up.

  However, once they found the trail, everything changed.  The undergrowth was dense. It allowed only one person at a time in a single file. The trees grew close together and obscured the view.  Even the air itself seemed to hold its breath.  No movement, not even insects stirred in this heat.

  According to the hunters, this trail wound up into the hills for the better part of a day. They had said that at the halfway point, there was a clearing.  Sure enough, about the time he thought about it, there it was.  It wasn’t much of a clearing, but a clearing nevertheless.

  “Marcus,” he called softly.

  “Here, sir,” came the reply at his shoulder.

  Trying not to jump, he should have realized that by now that the grizzled optio would be close by.  The man was spooky in the way he seemed to read his mind sometimes. “One hour’s rest for everyone, post a guard just in case someone is fool enough to try to attack through these woods,” he ordered.  “Have everyone check their armor and weapons as well.  Tramping through these palmettos and such couldn’t have done it much good.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Marcus as he set about to make it so.

  Gaius Maximus tried to sit down on the ground without groaning.  At 36, he had been in the army for most of his life, and it hadn’t been an easy life either.  As part of his legion, he had fought or stood garrison in such faraway places as Gaul, Germania, Egypt, and Carthage.  At least he wasn’t on board the gods-cursed ship that brought him here.  During the trip here, he thought he was going to die from sea-sickness.  He paused briefly to curse (once again) the sailors and the ships that bore them.

  The heat was taking its toll on him and his men.  He could hear Marcus reminding the men not to gulp the water down. They had no idea how long it would be until they found water again.  He was thankful for the respite, even though it appeared that the insects had once again found them.

  The clearing was only about a half-acre in size, but it was large enough so his men could spread out in groups.  Almost immediately at least one group struck up a game of dice.  Several of the older veterans took a sip of water and immediately fell asleep.  They knew from bitter experience the value of resting whenever possible.

  He called Marcus over and gave orders that once everyone was rested, a small group of five men should scout the exit path for a few hundred yards.  There appeared to be only one entrance and one exit to the clearing, and the trees and underbrush grew thickly right up to the edge.

  All too soon, the hour was up, and without even him having to say anything, Marcus was ordering the men back into formation.  With the mostly good-natured grumbling that comes with men that had been working together for a long time, they fell in.  The brief respite seemed to do some good.  In a surprisingly short amount of time, the century was ready to move. About this time the scouts came back saying that shortly the trail widened out and the trees thinned somewhat.

  Once they re-entered the woods, the air was still close. So were the trees, but it seemed somehow lighter, as if hinting of the end of the trees.  True enough, his scouts were correct, the trail widened out into a path that two could now walk abreast easily.  At the same time, the trees themselves were spaced further apart, giving a fairly decent field of view.  In the distance, through some breaks in the green, some bare rocky hills could be seen.  These were still about a mile off, but did not appear to be too high.  The path led directly towards the rocks.

  A second, smaller, clearing appeared in the path. It was about half the size of the previous one. Then, the trail simply widened out into a path through the trees, becoming nearly as wide as a standard Roman road. Underbrush fell away.  Gaius could see the trail had come somewhat close to a ravine on their left. The ground dropped away a good fifty to sixty feet a few yards from the trail.  It was not a cliff, but a rather steep incline.  The trail meandered more or less straight ahead for about a furlong, then curved to the left.  As it curved, the rocky face of the cliff met it. About a quarter mile along, the game trail was nothing more than a cliff-side trail—with a fifty-foot drop on the left, and a fifty-foot rise on the right.  It went along the cliff face for quite a distance, passing a dark opening . The opening appeared to be the entrance to a small cave. Then the trail wound its way up and out of sight a little further on.

  Gaius called a halt to the formation.  He wanted to study the land before committing his entire force to such a narrow trail.  It appeared that once the trail hugged the cliff, it narrowed to such an extent only one man at a time could effectively fight.  The cave, if that was what it was, or the bend where the trail curved out of sight, either one provided an ideal spot for an ambush. He did not like the looks of that dark opening.

  “Marcus,” said Gaius, “I want my squad commanders here on the double.  Tell everyone else to take a short break. Be ready to move out on a moment’s notice.”

  In moments, all the men were lounging around, while Gaius met with his squad commanders.  He had been given a great deal of latitude in the organization of his century.  Instead of having the typical unit formation, his hundred men consisted of two groups of fifty under the command of an optio posterior. Both of those had five squads of nine men each with a decuria
in charge, rather than simply ten units of ten.  He could exercise greater flexibility this way to get the job done.  Considering his unit’s record, his superiors allowed this small aberration.  With his leaders, himself, and Marcus—his optio, they totaled 104 men, rather than the usual eighty.

  Gaius and his thirteen leaders met off to one side of the clearing.  Another of Gaius’s quirks—in the eyes of his fellow centurions—was that when the situation permitted, he discussed options with his leaders. He preferred not to simply order them.  Of course, once a decision was made, they all followed it. But several times, his leaders had pointed out flaws in his plans.  These squad leaders were marked for future promotion as openings in the formation allowed.