The four, armed house guards shifted uncomfortably. They feared for the weapon’s instructor’s safety and their position in Villa Maximus if he was injured. When two began to draw their gladii and step forward, Alerio waved them off.
“You’re a big brute, Petrus,” Alerio observed as he circled. The Insubri turned with small steps, watching the Legionary closely. “But your hands? Little, with fingers like a girl.”
Petrus glanced down to where his hands held the spear shaft. The glance was all Alerio needed. He dropped low, stepped forward with one leg, and swung the shaft. To better turn and face the circling Legionary, the tribesman had his feet close together. The shaft connected with the back of his knees and the blow folded his legs. The Insubri fell onto his back.
“Two rules for you, Petrus,” Alerio instructed. His spear point was against the barbarian’s neck, pinning him to the sand. “Never take your eyes off a foe. And, keep your stance wide. Big men are hard to take down, if they are vigilant and balanced. Now get up and let me show you.”
Alerio started to step away then stopped.
“You’re mad at me. And you will try to kill me when I let you up,” Alerio advised. “Know this. Every time you go for the kill while I’m teaching you, I’ll make your head hurt.”
Petrus waited a heartbeat before he came up on his knees. Once he’d gathered his feet under him, he charged at the Legionary. Spear point forward and all of his body weight behind the attack, he yelled a war cry. The iron tip closed on the Legionary’s side. But the iron head missed as Alerio twisted his hips away from the spear and stepped to the side. Petrus hurdled forward past his target. Alerio twirled his spear bringing the butt end around. He knocked Petrus in the back of the head.
The big man landed with his legs in the sand and his chest on the lawn. Alerio rested the tip of his spear between the man’s legs.
“You are a bit of a cūlus,” observed Alerio as he poked at the man’s rear. “Maybe I should install a new one and have them send me another Insubri. No, not yet. Get up and this time listen to me.”
Petrus struggled to his feet, picked up the spear and turned to face the Legionary. Then he stopped. The weapon’s instructor had pulled off his tunic and the Insubri got a look at the scars. Yesterday, he was sick from hunger and couldn’t focus. This morning, although his head ached, he paid attention.
“You are young for so many battle marks,” Petrus stated. “Still, I will kill you.”
“It’s your headache,” Alerio replied holding the spear diagonally across his body. “Well, fat man, I don’t see anyone else with a spear and a chance to use it. Come on!”
Petrus shuffled forward. The muscles of his shoulders bunched and the veins in his arms bulged
Shifting his head to the side as if looking at the guards, Alerio spoke to them.
“Holy Goddess, it’s like waiting for Morta to come and snip your life strings,” Alerio complained to the guards. “I thought barbarians were fast.”
With the Legionary’s head turned, Petrus saw his opportunity and he sprinted forward. Suddenly, the spear held cross chested, flipped over the weapon’s instructor’s shoulder and before the tribesman could stop his charge, or block the spear shaft, the butt end came up and slapped the side of his head. Petrus didn’t go down but, he did drop his spear to place both hands on his temples.
“Hurts? Doesn’t it,” Alerio stated. “If you’re finished fooling around? Pick up your spear and let’s begin.”
“How?” mumbled Petrus.
“You were watching my spear and my head,” Alerio instructed. “But you failed to look at my eyes. They were on you. That’s another lesson for you.”
***
When Alerio finally released Petrus, the big tribesman dropped his spear, placed one hand on the side of his head and another on the back of his head. Then, he staggered to the bench and collapsed.
“Name?” called out Alerio as he stowed both spears. “Let me remind you that in three days, you’ll be fighting for your lives. I’m trying to help you stay alive. Name?”
“Eolus,” declared a rawboned and wiry tribesman as he stepped forward. “The headaches, I don’t want.”
Alerio selected two small shields and two medium length swords.
“I fight with my tribe’s sword,” Eolus declared when Alerio offered the shield and the sword to the Insubri.
“You mean a shield smasher?” replied Alerio. “Fine. Set those aside and go get one. I’ll keep these.”
Eolus chuckled as he walked to the weapon’s rack. Figuring the small shield and the short sword would hinder the Legionary, he chose a heavy iron sword. He swung it back and forth as he stalked back to the sand pit.
“I will attempt not to injure you too much,” the tribesman stated. “When do we begin?”
“Attack me,” ordered Alerio.
The controlled low to high arc was a good opening strike. It forced Alerio back to avoid the heavy blade. Plus, the reverse would be a powerful backhanded slash that should cleave the shield and the Legionary. Except, Alerio stepped forward and rammed his shield into the back of Eolus’ raised arm.
Twisting away from the shield to free his sword arm, Eolus hopped back and spun in a circle. The sword led the arc of his turning body with the blade dropping towards the level of the Legionary’s head. Eolus snapped his head around checking the angle of his blade for the most efficient kill. Then he stopped and let the sword fall from his fingers.
Alerio’s blade rested on Eolus’ cheek. The tip just below the Insubri’s left eye.
“A heavy sword isn’t always the best weapon for individual combat,” instructed Alerio as he straightened his legs, still maintaining pressure on the tribesman’s cheek with the sharp point. “A quick man can get inside a guard with a shorter sword.”
“I will try the sword and shield,” agreed Eolus. Only then did Alerio withdraw his sword from the barbarian’s cheek.
***
“Name?” asked Alerio of the last Insubri.
“Eutropius. And I will not be struck in the head or fooled into allowing you inside my guard,” the man announced. “What weapon do you suggest?”
Alerio studied the man. His frame fell somewhere between Petrus’ mass and Eolus’ taunt muscles. Two javelins and tribal shields were the choice. The weapon’s instructor carried them to the center of the sand pit.
Eutropius accepted the shield and fitted it on his left arm. Then he hoisted the javelin over his head.
“Am I to throw it at my opponent and pray with an empty fist for the rest of my life?” Eutropius inquired. “For it will be a short life.”
Alerio slammed his shield into the barbarian’s. With their shields locked, the Legionary shoved the shields to his right. The movement exposed his left side, leaving it unprotected and open to Eutropius’ javelin.
With a smile, the Insubri drew back the javelin and poked forward at the instructor’s exposed flank. The iron tip never reached the flesh. While Eutropius focused on the advantage of the opening, he forgot how close they were standing. A foot hooked behind his front leg, lifted it off the sand, allowing a shove from the Legionary’s shield to send the off balanced warrior toppling over backwards. Then he remembered but it was too late.
“There are no gifts in combat,” Alerio stated, looking down at the Insubri from over the top of his shield. “If you don’t cause the opening in your foe’s defenses, be wary of a trap.”
Eutropius ran his eyes along the bottom of the tribal shield and noticed the man’s ankles were back and out of range from a quick attack by his javelin. At the top, the man’s face remained behind the barrier. Even while instructing, the Legionary protected himself.
“We will listen and learn,” Eutropius announced as he braced a hand on the sand and stood. With his shield forward and the javelin resting on the top edge of the shield mimicking the Legionary, he begged, “Show us how to survive.”
Alerio spent the rest of the day having the warriors spar. Shi
eld and javelin against shield and sword, and spear against both. By the time the sun lowered in the western sky, the three Insubri were bruised and exhausted.
“Can they win the games, Lance Corporal?” inquired a house guard.
“You’ve seen them progress during the day,” Alerio replied. “Two more days and they should be able to stand against anyone.”
“Even Legionaries?” asked another guard.
Alerio’s stomach sank. Even Legionaries?
Chapter – 4 A Targeted Weapon’s Instructor
“There are two groups loitering on the street,” a house guard announced. He had come from around the Villa and walked to where the four stood with Alerio. “One group to the north and one to the south.”
“It’s a public street,” another guard replied.
“It is. But too many of them are watching our main gate,” the newly arrived guard informed him. “I don’t like it.”
The guards had served in General Maximus’ Legion. Typical of combat veterans, they balanced caution with common sense. But, they never discounted the possibility of an attack.
“They may be waiting for me,” ventured Alerio. “Two city guardsmen warned me off from training the Insubri. The funeral games are turning out to be more political than a sendoff for a nobleman. Would they dare invade the Senator’s home?”
“I don’t think so. However, they might come over the walls and damage the merchandise,” another responded, referring to the Insubri warriors. “We’ll bring in more of our veterans to protect the compound. I suggest, Lance Corporal, you either spend the night here or sneak out the garden gate.”
“I have someone I need to speak with,” Alerio informed him. “I’ll use the garden gate.”
***
The guards doused the lights near the garden gate and opened it just enough for the Legionary to slip through. He crouched in the dark by the wall and scanned the street.
His goal was a few streets over and much farther south. At the end of the Senator’s wall, two men stood in the intersection. If they were talking and looking at each other, they might have passed as friends having a conversation. But they stood silently, each watching a street - the two streets bordering the wall of Villa Maximus.
Alerio stayed low and crept closer to the pair. A loud fight would draw more of the watchers. Were they watchers or knee breakers? He wasn’t sure and didn’t want to find out. When he slipped as close as possible, Alerio noticed they were shifting their eyes from the streets to the top of the walls. This confirmed they were waiting for someone to leave, or for a sign to enter the compound, and not simply idling away their time by standing in the street.
Drawing his gladius slowly to avoid scraping the blade on the sheath, Alerio inhaled. As he exhaled, he sprinted at the two men.
They noticed the movement. Before either could make out the form emerging from the shadows, one got smacked in the face by the flat of a blade. The other folded in two from a shoulder in his stomach. As he was powered backwards, a gladius pommel slammed into his temple. The other man, holding a bleeding nose, was taken off his feet by a leg sweep. He also received a tap from the pommel. Then Alerio was on his feet and racing away from the two unconscious watchers.
Chapter – 5 Wisdom of a Retired Centurion
Tomas Kellerian opened the door to the Historia Fae and ushered Alerio over the threshold.
“When a farm lad shows up on my doorstep after dark, I know it can’t be good,” commented the armorer to the Gods as he threw the bolts securing the door. “Whose wrath have you incurred this time, Lance Corporal Sisera?”
“Apparently, the city guards, some street gangs,” replied Alerio. “Oh, and possibly Consul Appease Codex. I need advice.”
“Advice? Sure. March yourself across the city and throw yourself from the Tarpeian Rock,” suggested Tomas. “Better to kill yourself than wait for a Consul to have you pushed over the edge for treason. The fall won’t hurt. It’s the sudden stop at the bottom that gets you.”
“General Maximus will stop any charge of treason. I hope,” Alerio ventured. “I’m training the Insubri to fight at the funeral games for him.”
“I’ve told you before. I’ve spent most of my life with the Legion defending the Republic from barbarians,” growled Tomas. “I don’t believe in teaching them our skills or how to kill Legionaries.”
“I guess that precludes you from helping. I’m a marked man and my travels are restricted,” confessed Alerio. “I was hoping you’d help with the training.”
“By Hades! Absolutely not,” declared the retired Centurion. Then he thought for a moment and a puzzled looked crossed his face. “You said the city guard is after you. Who is training the other gladiators?”
“Corporal Daedalus. If I’m disabled or not able to train the Insubri, his Etruscī warriors will win,” Alerio reported. “But I’ll figure something out.”
The Armorer walked away and the Legionary thought he’d been dismissed. A short time later, as Alerio waited to be let out the front door, Tomas returned with his arms full of stacked armor and a personal pack.
“The day after General Flaccus’ triumphant parade through the city, two drunken Legionaries came to see me,” Tomas related as he placed the armor on a workbench. “They were broken up. Seems their squad leader must have been killed by the barbarians because he didn’t come back for his armor and gladius.”
“Cimon and Drustanus?” asked Alerio. “Where did they go?”
“They said something about finding a sacrificial bull,” Tomas informed him. “Their Century is camped east of the city. Waiting for release orders to return to their Legion.”
“Then I better go see them and break the bad news that I’m alive,” Alerio said cheering up. He pulled off his tunic and began strapping on his armor. “Thank you for storing my gear.”
“I’ll see you in the morning at Villa Maximus,” Tomas said.
“You’re going to help?” asked Alerio. “Why?”
“On one condition. And to be sure the Etruscans die on the sand,” the Armorer stated.
“What’s the condition?” inquired Alerio.
“I’ll tell you later,” Tomas replied as he guided Alerio to the door.
Chapter – 6 Seventh Squad, 47th Century, Flaccus Legion
The squalor of Fireguard District had been reduced to ashes and most of the ash and rubble were gone. A newly constructed road cut through the area where flimsy buildings once stood. Alerio marched up the torch lined street and, at the top of what had been a steep earthen berm, he gazed down at neat rows of Legion tents.
At the bottom of the road, he asked a sentry for directions to the squad area of Forty-Seventh Century. Armed with the Legionary’s instructions, he marched down the center of the Legion camp. On the far side, he turned down a camp street.
“Seventh of the Forty-Seventh?” he asked a squad guard.
“Two streets down on your left,” the Private replied.
***
“Private Cimon. What’s the turn!” Alerio demanded as he approached the campfire in front of the tent.
Without thinking who was asking, Cimon glanced at the squad’s hourglass. Then recognition came to him and he jumped to his feet.
“Lance Corporal Sisera. Is that you or a ghost come to haunt us for not sacrificing a bull in your name?” the Private asked. “Because we tried. Do you know what a sacrificial bull costs? Even with Drustanus negotiating, we couldn’t get a reasonable price.”
“As you can see, no sacrifice was required,” Alerio informed him. “I’d like to see Drustanus, but right now I need to speak with Centurion Seneca. Is he in camp?”
“He’s taken Officer of the Day and Duty NCO so Meleager could take our new Corporal into the city,” responded Cimon. “Come back later and I’ll cook you some rations.”
“I’ll come back for your cooking and to sleep,” admitted Alerio. “This is the safest place for me right now.”
***
“Becau
se General Maximus has me training the Insubri, I’m a target of the city guardsman,” Alerio concluded his report to Forty-Seventh’s Centurion. “I’m afraid, the political pressure will result in an attack on the warriors.”
“Let me get this right, Lance Corporal Sisera,” replied Centurion Seneca. “You want Seventh squad to protect Insubri warriors?”
“Just at Villa Maximus. And, to the funeral games,” Alerio assured the Centurion.
“Do you really believe you’ll have any of them left alive after the games?” challenged the old Legion Officer. “I hear Corporal Drustanus is an excellent swordsman.”
“I do, sir,” Alerio assured him. “General Maximus has a lot of political capital tied up in the games and he is depending on me.”
“Sisera, this is lunacy,” Seneca observed. “If it was for anyone besides the General, I’d throw you out of my tent with a kick to your cūlus. However, once a General’s Senior Centurion, always one. Take Seventh squad and protect the General’s property.”
***
Before sunrise, there was a small commotion in the Legion camp. Seventh broke down their tent, packed it on their mule, and marched towards the Capital. The left, stomp, left, stomp of an armored squad of Legionaries echoed off the dark buildings and later off the walls of Villas. They passed a few city guard patrols, but the guardsmen stepped to the side of the street and let them pass unchallenged. Armor, big shields, javelins and the hobnailed boots of heavy infantrymen had that effect on people.
“Who goes there?” a house guard asked when Alerio pounded on the front gate.
“Lance Corporal Sisera and Seventh Squad of the Forty-Seventh,” he called out loudly so the thugs mustered far down the street could hear.
“We could go and give them a taste of infantry shield for breakfast,” Private Cimon suggested before the house guard could open the gate. He indicated the watchers on the next block.
“I promised Centurion Seneca that we’d keep damage to citizens to a minimum,” Alerio answered.
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