“And your equipment got passed to Ignazio?” Claudius inquired.
“Yes, sir. Their Major…” Alerio stopped. He had been focused on Dispansus and not on the process. “Major Caraceni oversees the Samnite auxiliary. The Sixth Samnite cavalry are one of his units.”
“Let’s collect a cavalry patrol of our own,” Gaius Claudius instructed, “and go interview the Major.”
***
Gaius Claudius was reluctant at first. Lightly armored riders traveled faster but Sisera requested heavy armor for the patrol.
“Sir, this is a war party not a horse race,” Alerio insisted.
In the end, the Senior Tribune relented. Now he was glad. When the patrol rode into the Samnite garrison, the Legionaries riding the horses dismounted and became a squad of infantrymen. Curious Samnite cavalrymen wandered over to look at the Legionaries.
“I need to see…” Claudius began to explain to a Sergeant on the porch.
Behind the NCO, the door to the senior officer’s quarters opened and a cavalry Captain stepped out. He looked the Senior Tribune up and down, scanned the infantrymen, then settled on Alerio.
“Centurion Sisera. What did you say to me?” Captain Potilius demanded.
The crowd of Samnite cavalrymen had grown to a sizable horde. Tension raced through the mob as they picked up on their Captain’s attitude. Doubly glad, Senior Tribune Claudius relished having Legion infantry at his back, rather than Legion cavalry.
At Potilius’ question, Alerio shook his head trying to understand the man’s ire. If anyone should be mad, it was Alerio. He was the one held in a dirty cell.
“What is your problem?” Alerio remarked.
Herius Potilius raged and stomped across the porch, jumped to the street, and trudged up to Alerio. Leaning forward, he got nose-to-nose with the Centurion.
“Arrest me,” the Captain whispered. “Arrets me and get me out of the compound.”
The sudden change in mission rocked Alerio for a heartbeat.
“Senior Tribune Claudius. We don’t want another Echetla,” Alerio advised. “We have the Captain and need to go.”
Gaius pondered the statement. Not sure of the meaning, he walked to his horse and mounted. Captain Potilius jumped onto a Samnite horse and Alerio and four Legion riders closed in around him. They trotted from the compound.
At the quarter mile marker from the garrison, Gaius twisted to face Alerio.
“Can you explain why we went to question a Major,” the Senior Tribune inquired, “but arrested a Captain instead?”
“Captain Potilius,” Alerio asked. “Why did we arrest you?”
“Because I know who is involved in the insurrection,” he replied.
***
Major Caraceni nodded to the driver as he emerged from the carriage. In truth, attending the party stretched his schedule and wasted his time. But he wanted to see the inside of the villa.
A servant waited at the front door holding a tray of glasses filled with fine wine.
“Happy New Year’s Day, sir,” the houseman greeted Paccia Caraceni.
“It is going to be a great year for some of us,” the Major responded as he took a glass.
Paccia entered the villa and studied the elaborate tiles and the murals on the walls.
“Yes, this will make an excellent headquarters,” he said.
“Excuse me, Major Caraceni?” the owner of the villa inquired.
“I was simply admiring the artwork and artistry.”
“The craftsmen did an excellent job,” the owner admitted. “Welcome to my home. I hope you enjoy the gala.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t stay long,” Paccia told his host. “Pressing business demands my attention and I must return to the garrison. But I will be back soon. Very soon.”
“The gala will continue until dawn,” the Senator stated. “There’s plenty of time. We’ll be here when you return.”
The villa’s owner shifted his attention to newly arriving guests.
“Not necessarily,” Paccia Caraceni remarked.
Strolling through the crowd of party goers, the Major visualized the changes he would make to the villa. Hopefully, the rampaging slaves, Etruscans, and Samnites would spare some of the statues and the decorative vases.
On the far side of the great room, Major Caraceni glanced down a hallway. Deeper in the hall, a Senior Tribune stood by an open door and beckoned him.
“Me?” Paccia asked.
“Yes, Major,” the senior staff officer replied. “If you please.”
“Do I know you?” Paccia inquired as he moved towards the Tribune.
“Not that I know of,” Gaius Claudius responded while reaching out to grip the Major’s wrist. As soon as their grips tightened, Claudius jerked Paccia Caraceni forward, spun the Major’s back to the doorway, and shoved him into the room. “But I plan for us to get acquainted.”
***
Alerio Sisera caught the Major by the neck and yanked him across the room. On the far side, he dropped the Samnite officer into a chair.
“Centurion Sisera, please do not mistreat the Major,” Claudius scolded.
“But sir, he took my pouch,” Alerio complained. To show his displeasure, he elbowed Paccia in the back of his head. “I want my temple voucher back.”
“A senior officer stealing from a junior officer is terribly wrong,” Claudius commented. “I suppose if you return Sisera’s chit, we can have a civilized conversation.”
“But I don’t have it,” Paccia Caraceni divulged to Claudius. He attempted to stand but Alerio’s fingers pressed into the muscles of the Major’s neck, painfully holding him in place. “I gave the Centurion’s possessions to Senior Tribune Dispansus.”
“Why ever would you do that?” Claudius questioned. “The Centurion was in your care. By the way, are you in the habit of abusing allied prisoners? Look at Sisera’s face. Were you trying to kill him?”
“The staff officer was running the operation,” Paccia replied. He checked over his shoulder and noted the cut and swelling on Alerio’s face. Turning away quickly, he blurted out. “He didn’t order us to kill this time…I mean, he only wanted the Centurion held until the Ides of March.”
Gaius Claudius looked over the top of Paccia’s head and locked eyes with Alerio.
“Centurion Sisera, stop that, this instant,” the Senior Tribune ordered.
Alerio had not moved. But in response to the instructions, Alerio lifted a foot and kicked the Major out of the chair. As soon as Paccia hit the floor, Alerio leaped on his back and used the heel of his hand to bounce the Samnite’s forehead off the tiles.
“I will not abide by violence,” Claudius advised the Major and Alerio. “Cease it this instant.”
Alerio hooked an arm under Paccia’s jaw and tilted the Major’s head back until he could see Claudius.
“Who did you kill for Dispansus?” the Senior Tribune asked.
“Just the two household guards,” Paccia explained. “Just the two men.”
Alerio closed his eyes and thought hard about snapping the man’s neck. Then he released the Major and jumped away before he could change his mind.
“Samnites killed the guards from Villa Maximus on orders from Ignazio Dispansus,” Alerio summarized for Gaius Claudius while pulling a Legion dagger. “Etruscans attacked the Senator’s villa and Dispansus told me Senator Megellus wanted to stop the expansion of the Republic. He figured that signed treaties with our enemies would protect our borders. Let me kill the Major. Then we can go about cleaning up the rest of the snakes.”
“Are you insinuating that Dispansus and Senator Megellus are the threads tying the revolt together?” Claudius probed.
“Yes, sir,” Alerio insisted. Leaning forward, he lowered the blade in front of the Major’s eyes and placed the edge against his neck. “Permission, sir, to cut this disloyal serpent’s neck?”
“Wait. I know the leaders of the uprising,” Major Paccia Caraceni pleaded. “Exile me and I’ll give you t
he names.”
Alerio slipped the dagger into its sheath and stood up.
“That works for me. Especially if we can get proof of Senator Megellus’ involvement,” the Centurion stated. “Senior Tribune, you?”
“If one citizen dies because you forgot a name,” Claudius threatened. “I will crucify what’s left of your body in the forum.”
“I will tell you all, every one of them,” Major Caraceni vowed. “But, in truth, I know nothing about Senator Megellus. All the coordination came from Senior Tribune Dispansus.”
***
Shortly after Major Caraceni landed in a cell at the city guard headquarters, two Centuries of Legion Calvary raced from the Capital. One unit left through the southern gate. They had seventeen miles to travel before arresting a Samnite Major and his entire staff.
The Century leaving the western gate had only to ride to the Samnite auxiliary cavalry garrison. Once there, they arrested a Captain, two Lieutenants, and Major Caraceni’s staff NCOs. Along with the military men, four couriers with letters ordering attacks on the Republic were taken into custody.
***
In the north, Messia and Culni sat and watched the campfires of the Legion blocking force.
“When do you think the courier will arrive?” Messia asked.
“Wine?” Culni inquired.
“No thanks, I’ve had enough drink to last me until the next Ides of March,” the Legion scout replied. “The Etruscan courier?”
“Probably on the way,” the other scout suggested. “This is a miserable place to spend New Year’s Day.”
“I don’t know. There could be worse places to be,” Messia stated. “I just can’t think of any at the moment.”
***
Just before moonrise, the left, stomp, left, stomp of two squads of heavy infantrymen invaded the party at Villa Megellus. Although the Legionaries did not enter the home, the crossing of the rear courtyard by armored men with shields and spears disrupted the New Year’s celebration.
“What is the meaning of this invasion,” Senator Megellus barked. “You can’t…”
From behind the armored ranks, a Senior Tribune stepped up to the legislator and announced to everyone present.
“By order of Consuls Gaius Aquillius Florus and Lucius Cornelius Scipio, Villa Megellus is suspected of harboring Etruscan warriors,” Gaius Claudius declared. Six Legionaries holding naked steel beside their big shields moved to flank the Tribune. “Should the Etruscan criminals Arnza and Kulenie not be located on the grounds, the villa will be searched room by room. All citizens are warned to avoid interfering with the infantrymen.”
Citizens maneuvered months in advance for invitations to social gatherings at the estates of influential people. Thus, the gala at Villa Megellus was attended by the richest and most powerful.
In a much shorter period than they spent getting the invitations, the wealthy and leading citizens of Rome fled the villa. And, with them went Satoris Megellus’ support from the populous and his position as a leader in the Senate of the Republic.
Chapter 31 – The Grisly Cost
The sun rose on a peaceful city. No warriors or revolting slaves had descended on sleeping citizens and no villas were lost to raiders. Having righteously honored Anna Perenna, most people slept off their New Year’s celebrations. But not everyone slept in the dark before dawn. Outside the northern gate, a group of Legionaries and Legion engineers had been busy.
“Now that we’ve crucified the leaders of the revolt,” Alerio offered. “We need to go after the fangs of the snake.”
Men moaned and stronger ones, with the lungs for it, cried out from the tops of the crosses. The Legion officers walked the half mile of wooden poles before the Senior Tribune replied.
“Ignazio Dispansus has left the city for his estate in Tivoli,” Gaius Claudius advised. “Best let it go, Centurion Sisera.”
While strolling back in the other direction, they glanced up to be sure none of the arm bindings had become loose. It would be unsightly to have one of the condemned dangling from his cross.
“A lesson you must learn,” Gaius added, “no patrician will order an assault on another nobleman’s country estate.”
“But he has my temple voucher,” Alerio protested.
“Dispansus can’t cash it until he learns what temple it’s from,” Claudius reminded him. Then Gaius stopped and looked into Alerio’s eyes. “Maybe he’ll come after you. With your status as a patrician, no one can fault you for winning a duel.”
Alerio thought of his new position in society and realized the only difference between Senior Tribune Dispansus and Alerio was their Legion rank.
Gaius and Alerio continued their inspection. At the end of the rows of crosses, the duty officer saluted.
“Excellent display,” Gaius complimented. “Your unit should be proud.”
The Legionaries and engineers braced at the Senior Tribune’s words. They had worked hard to assure that enemies of the Republic would have an ordered but grisly reminder of the cost of participating in an uprising.
“Dismiss your men, Centurion,” Gaius instructed the duty officer. “We’ll let the city guards keep molesters and liberators away.”
The detachment marched to the north towards their encampment, leaving Alerio and Gaius.
“I’m resigning my commission,” Alerio alerted the staff officer. “Tell my adopted father, I am sorry.”
“You can’t simply ride into Tivoli, challenge Dispansus, and demand your chit back,” Claudius advised. “His family has allies in the area who will protect him.”
“Then I’ll need to go about the task quietly,” Alerio responded. “But my business with Ignazio Dispansus is something I need to resolve.”
“It’s not about the voucher and the coins, is it?” Gaius Claudius guessed.
“No sir,” Alerio answered. “It’s about my honor.”
***
Two miles northeast of the Servian Wall, the Aniene River in a long looping bend dipped towards Rome. Almost three miles from where it emptied into the Tiber, a dock covered the Aniene riverbank and pens for draft animals, sleds and wagons filled the nearby field. Several warehouses bordered the field confirming the commercial use of the area. Across a paved road, an inn advertised sleeping areas for wagon drivers, oxen herders, and men off the barges.
At the inn, Barge Captain Scripuli stood squinting into the afternoon sun.
“I’m looking for work,” a man commented as he strolled up to the Captain. “They said you were the man to speak with.”
Bargeman Scripuli examined the stranger.
“Let me see your palms,” the bargeman instructed. He studied the calluses and forearm muscles on both arms. “Most veterans don’t make it on the river.”
“Why do you think I’m a veteran,” Alerio asked. “And why not?”
“The battle scars are a good hint, as well as the condition of your hobnailed boots,” Scripuli described. “They tell me you have recently been with the Legion. And from your tan, I’d say Sicilia.”
“You are correct,” Alerio confirmed. “But why don’t Legionaries make it on the river?”
“Your eye tells the tale,” Scripuli informed Alerio. “Legionaries train to fight. When presented with idle time, they practice what they learned. As demonstrated by the cut and the black and blue of your eye.”
“He hit me, and I restrained myself,” Alerio lied. “If anything, it was a one-sided boxing match.”
“On the river we stop each night,” Scripuli explained. “Often there are villages. We depend on those people to sell us food and drink. If a brawler begins picking fights with the locals, I am out of business.”
“That can’t be the only reason,” Alerio probed, “veterans don’t make it on the river.”
“Twenty miles up a winding river to Tivoli,” the bargeman explained, “and twenty boring miles back. Day in and day out, rain or shine. The monotony has driven many a man mad. And as you call it in the Legion, pol
e work is a grind, a never-ending grind.”
“Suppose I promise no fighting,” Alerio offered. “And that I will complete the round trip. Is there anyway you would hire me on?”
Scripuli looked around Alerio and studied four wagons rolling in their direction.
“Just a moment,” he stated.
The bargeman strutted to the wagons in a precise walk. The lead foot was placed firmly on the ground before he lifted the rear leg. At the convoy, he spoke with a driver before returning to Alerio.
“That is your pass to the river,” Scripuli pointed out to Alerio. He indicated the transports.
“Those wagons?” Alerio inquired.
“The vino, olive oil, and steel tools in the wagons,” the bargeman clarified. “The quarry at Tivoli needs resupplies and the upstream load will be heavy. You’ll earn your coins.”
“They can’t weigh as much as slabs of Travertine,” Alerio remarked.
“Nowhere as near,” the bargeman confirmed. “Then again with the stone, we are not fighting the current moving upstream. Go help the other polemen unload.”
“Yes, sir,” Alerio said as be braced.
“For my records, what is your name?” Scripuli inquired.
“I go by Sisera,” Alerio replied.
“Alright, Sisera, go unload the wagons,” Scripuli encouraged. “We shove off at dawn.”
***
“The pole is sixteen feet long and the bronze end goes into the water,” one of the three polemen instructed. “You sink it down to the bottom, push forward, and walk your quarter of the deck.”
“Then you twist the pole to get it out of the mud or from between rocks,” another poleman told him. “Pull and throw it forward hand-to-hand then sink it again.”
“Remember the twist to unstick your pole from mud or from between rocks on the bottom,” the third restated. “If you don’t, you’ll leave the pole sticking out of the water as the barge moves onward.”
“What happens if it does?” Alerio asked.
“We throw you overboard to retrieve your pole,” the first poleman offered.
Muted Implications (Clay Warrior Stories Book 12) Page 20