“That’s right. Will I have any trouble getting into the building when I return, sir?”
“Senior Magistrate Peregrinus’ bodyguard has access to every area of the compound,” the staff officer informed him. Picking up a piece of parchment, he handed it to Alerio.
“Does that include access to the Legion armory.”
“Per the letter, you can requisition anything necessary for the Magistrate’s safety.”
Alerio left the Governor’s Building, turned north, and headed for the barracks. As he walked, he read the letter.
To all concerned:
Let it be known that the bearer of this letter is charged with the preservation and safety of Assistant Governor and Senior Magistrate, the honorable Pollenius Armenius Peregrinus.
This includes calling upon Republic Legionaries and Brindisi Militia in the fulfillment of his duties. No access or request shall be denied him. All questioning of his authority must be brought before the Assistant Governor after the instructions are carried out.
He is named:
Corporal Alerio Sisera and, by others, Sminarchos Alerio Sisera.
Know him to be, a Special Agent of the Senate of the Republic.
Interestingly, it was signed and stamped by both Armenius and Zenobios. Alerio suspected the Master Secretary was more than an aide. He laughed at being an honorary Greek Captain and wondered what the Brindisian Militia would have to say about the title.
Between two Legion buildings, he located the walls of the armory. In the courtyard, he was ignored by a Lance Corporal sitting on a stool inspecting the work of seven Privates. They hammered armor, held gladii against grinding wheels, or stitched leather. The squad leader glanced sideways and twisted his mouth into a sneer as Alerio crossed the yard. Then he went back to watching his squad work.
There were several ways to deal with rudeness. Alerio could ask politely for help, run and get an officer or NCO to plead his case, or take a more direct approach.
Alerio marched up to the squad leader and kicked the stool out from under him. The Legionary toppled over, rolled to his feet, and drew his gladius.
“Your feet aren’t set,” Alerio exclaimed as he stepped inside the man’s guard and shoved him to the ground. Then he stomped the arm, reached down, and relieved the NCO of his gladius. “Stay down.”
The tip rested on the Lance Corporal’s chest. Wisely, he remained on his back. The action happened so suddenly, his squad was shocked and motionless.
“Who are you?”
“Corporal Sisera, weapons instructor,” Alerio answered as he examined the blade. “Good edges, balanced grind, and free of rust with a tight wrap on the hilt. Who does your grinding?”
“I do, Tesserarius,” the Lance Corporal replied.
“Then why is that Legionary grinding notches in that blade?” inquired Alerio. He lifted the gladius and used it to point to a grinding wheel. “A good squad leader would notice and offer advice. A great leader would be standing over his shoulder giving him directions. From what I see Lance Corporal, you are neither.”
“I don’t have to take orders from you,” boasted the Legionary as he scrambled to his feet. “You’re not assigned to the garrison.”
“You are correct,” Alerio agreed as he tossed the gladius high into the air. As it soared up, the weapons instructor reached out and grabbed another off the work table. “But you do have to defend yourself.”
The Lance Corporal snatched the weapon from the air and set his feet. Alerio’s blade snaked out, circled it, and sent the NCO’s gladius flying.
“Pick it up and defend yourself.”
After retrieving his weapon, the Lance Corporal was red-faced and breathing hard with anger. Again, and again, he was unarmed. When the NCO refused to lift the gladius one more time, Alerio warned.
“Defend yourself. Or I’ll beat you into submission with the flat of the blade.”
The squad leader charged Alerio, chopping downward with the gladius. The weapons instructor stepped aside and spanked the Lance Corporal’s rear with the blade as he stumbled by. The squad broke out in laughter.
Their squad leader for a moment puffed up as if he was going to yell, then he chuckled.
“Weapons instructor, lesson learned. What do you need?”
“I’m going to a party tomorrow and I need armor and a gladius.”
“Must be some party,” commented one of the Privates.
“The Optio is out on patrol. But we have some with silver inlays,” offered the Lance Corporal.
“I said I was going, not that I’m a guest,” exclaimed Alerio. “I’ll settle for dent and rust-free armor and a clean gladius.”
“Come with me and we’ll get you fitted,” the Lance Corporal suggested. As he headed for the armory building, he turned and spoke to a Private on a grinding wheel. “When I get back, we’ll work on your technique.”
After getting a promise that the equipment he needed would be delivered to Armenius’ apartment at the Governor’s building, Alerio left the Legion area, marched across the Republic’s compound, and into the city of Brindisi.
Three blocks later, he entered a store featuring quality goods. Shortly after entering, Alerio reappeared, walked to the end of the block, and turned on a street leading to the docks.
***
On the stonework beside the gate, an etching of a small bee identified the second purpose of the compound. Alerio rapped loudly on the double doors. He spun around to see a small figure, who had been sitting across the street, scurry into an alleyway. While waiting for admittance, the Legionary looked around to see if he could find where the youth crossed over. The Golden Valley trained both male and female assassins and Alerio couldn’t tell from the brief glimpse. Either he or she was very good or there was a tunnel running under the street. In either case, he never saw the lookout cross the street to the compound.
When the door opened, Alerio stepped through into a courtyard. The gate was closed behind him by a woman wearing a loose robe.
“We have a wide assortment of luxury items,” she commented. “The softest leather, honey from the Golden Valley…”
Alerio pulled the custom dagger from behind his back. This let her know he was there to talk, not about the merchandise stored in the warehouse but, the other service available in the compound, murder.
As he followed the woman towards the office, a small face appeared on the roof. Alerio dipped his head acknowledging her ability to cross the street unobserved. She rewarded him with a grin. Children enjoyed games even if the games were training for a deadly profession.
“What can I do for an Ally of the Golden Valley?” the woman inquired. She pointed to a chair. As Alerio sat, she walked around a large desk and took a seat.
He placed the dagger on the desk with the hilt towards the woman. When she reached out to take it, Alerio could see the knife scars hidden under the sleeve of her robe.
“What do you desire, Legionary Alerio Sisera?” she inquired after looking at the knife. “Information, medical treatment, sanctuary, coin?”
“I won’t dance around the topic. Realizing you don’t discuss contracts or clients,” Alerio said. Then he stopped and looked at the dagger in her hand. “My name is coded on the knife, isn’t it? That’s why no matter which House of the Golden Valley I enter, they know my name.”
“Did you think us mystics? No, Alerio Sisera, we are practical,” the assassin informed him. She reached over the desk and placed the blade in front of him. “You were not dancing?”
“You have rules about keeping contracts, past, ongoing, and future a secret,” Alerio stated getting back to the subject of his visit. “And you will not reveal the names of your clients. Or take a contract on me, as an ally. But I seem to have become the bodyguard for Senior Magistrate Armenius Peregrinus.”
“We are aware of the Magistrate. Is there a question looming?”
“If you have a contract on Peregrinus, when I kill your people, will I have to relinquish my dagger and the right
s of an ally?” Alerio inquired as he rested a hand on the dagger.
A soft rustling of fabric was all the warning he had. But it was enough for Alerio to snatch the dagger from the desk and swipe his arm around as he twisted. A throwing knife ricocheted off the dagger’s blade. He kicked the desk, toppling the chair as he threw himself backward. Rolling over, he regained his feet holding the Golden Valley dagger in one hand and the hunting knife in the other. On guard, he waited for the assassin to make a move.
The child stood beside the window curtains with her arms extended showing they were empty. Alerio realized the throw wasn’t intended to hit anything vital. It was a diversion. A way to distract him from the manager of the house. She stood leaning across the desk with one arm extended, holding a knife. The tip of the blade hovered where his neck would have been had he delayed in knocking over the chair.
“It’s true what they say,” the woman commented to the girl as she slid the knife into a sheath strapped to her forearm. “Please Ally, retake your seat.”
“What’s true?”
“That you are fast and quick with your blades,” the assassin told him. “Every so often, it’s good for the young to realize what is reality and what is training.”
“What is the reality?”
“In this case, not you, Legionary,” the woman assured him. “If we are approached for a contract, the price to cut Armenius Peregrinus’ string will be astronomical.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Of course, it does,” the manager of the house assured him. “My student will show you out.”
Alerio followed the girl through the doorway and across the courtyard. As they approached the gate, the answer came to him. An astronomical fee meant they would send more assassins. He wouldn’t have to worry about losing his rights as an Ally. If they accepted a contract on Peregrinus, the Magistrate’s bodyguard would die in the fighting.
Chapter 14 – Familiar Guests
“Really, Alerio. Are these necessary?” Armenius asked as he stepped around the helmet, Legion shield, and six javelins stacked against the wall.
“Magistrate, I haven’t had the opportunity to move the shield and place the javelins around the egresses,” Alerio replied from his room.
“My apartment is beginning to resemble a Legion camp.”
“There is nowhere safer, sir,” Alerio assured him.
“Are you going to be presentable, Corporal Sisera?”
“Hopefully, I’m the correct balance between background and menace,” Alerio suggested as he walked into the main room of the apartment.
Armenius cocked his head to the side and studied Alerio. The red cape hung from his shoulders down to the tops of his hobnailed boots. He wore a red tunic under a plain but buffed and unmarred set of armor. Even the leather of the armored shirt and sheath had been oiled and the gladius hilt showed new wrapping.
“Put on a helmet, grab a javelin, and you’d be ready for a winter campaign,” observed Armenius.
“It’s the red tunic, isn’t it? Too much?”
“The red is fine but this is a party, not an assault.”
“Exactly, sir.”
“Exactly, what?” questioned Armenius.
“To stop an attack, you must be prepared for one.”
“Come on bodyguard, let’s go to the party.”
***
The opened topped carriage gave Alerio a view of the old part of the city as well as a bumpy ride.
“I’ve had better traveling companions,” commented Armenius.
“Sorry Magistrate, I’m memorizing the route,” Alerio replied looking briefly at Armenius before returning to study the buildings, alleyways, and cross streets. “We should take a different way back.”
“Like a Legion patrol varying paths so the enemy can’t set an ambush?”
“True Tribune Peregrinus, always a good strategy.”
Zenobios shifted on the seat across from Armenius and observed, “The Legionary has taken your security to heart, Senior Magistrate.”
“He always has, my friend. Even when I gave up on him.”
The ride smoothed out as the carriage turned onto a newly built road. Walls of large Villas replaced the buildings, tradesmen compounds, and shops. A short distance later, the horses turned and the carriage wheeled through a gate and climbed up a drive.
Servants stood ready to lend a hand if anyone needed assistance climbing down. Once on the walkway, others offered glasses of wine to the guests. Alerio jumped down as soon as the wheels stopped turning. Refusing the offer of refreshments, the Legionary paced back and forth assessing the front of the Villa, the shrubbery, and the servants.
Armenius and Zenobios stepped down and accepted beverages.
“Polydeukes knows how to make a guest feel welcome,” Armenius suggested to his Secretary. While walking to the front door, he noticed Alerio wandering around and studying the area. “Really Sisera. Have a glass of wine. It is a party.”
“Yes, sir, it is,” Alerio acknowledged as he followed the Magistrate and Secretary up the walkway.
“Senior Magistrate Peregrinus and Master Secretary Zenobios, thank you for coming,” a robed man greeted them when they entered an elaborate vestibule.
“Master Polydeukes, you have a handsome home,” Peregrinus offered. “For this evening, please call me Armenius.”
While they talked, Alerio sidestepped behind them and stood between two potted plants. As he hoped, no one paid him any attention.
“Please, there is entertainment and a feast in the atrium,” Zenobios advised. “I must greet my other guests.”
Armenius and Zenobios moved through the crowd saying hello to acquaintances and being introduced to other men. Most were Brindisian but there were several Latians at the party. In the atrium, Alerio’s charges picked up new glasses of wine and joined groups in conversation. All the while, Alerio shadowed them from the edge of the open-air patio.
Moving only his eyes, he observed the comings and goings of attendees, the servers, and the invisible people in the atrium, the musicians. The trio consisted of a piper, a drummer, and a man plucking on a lyre. Tucked into an alcove between broad-leaved plants, they played beautifully. Their ethereal music seemed to come from nowhere and be everywhere. But they were hidden men, so Alerio made a mental note to keep checking on them.
Then he perked up at the sight of a familiar shape. A head of mid-length gray hair shifted over broad shoulders and a muscular frame. He recognized the man from the garden at the Villa in Taranto. Having spotted one, he looked for the other. Directly across the party as if to avoid each other, Alerio spotted the bushy head of hair on one of the tallest men at the party. At least he knew their destination if not the man they were plotting against.
Much later during the party, the Master Secretary came out of the crowd.
“Here, Legionary. You should at least have a drink,” Zenobios declared as he handed a glass of wine to the bodyguard.
“The tall man. What’s his name?” Alerio questioned. He didn’t drink from the glass but raised it in the direction of the other man from Taranto.
“Scholar Imprecari. He’s here from the Capital on holiday,” Zenobios replied.
“And the gray-haired soldier?” inquired Alerio holding the glass in the direction of the shorter man.
“Soldier? Ah, that is rich. His name is Eustorgius, also a scholar, also from the Capital, and, oddly enough, also in Brindisi on holiday.”
“Do they travel together?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“In combat, there are no happy coincidences.”
“This isn’t an armed conflict,” Zenobios suggested. “But if it’ll help you relax, I will find out.”
“Thank you, Master Secretary.”
Zenobios strolled back into the crowd. Alerio relocated Armenius, rested the full glass of wine on a planter, and continued his vigil.
***
Early in the morning, the party broke up
as guests began leaving in groups. While Armenius and Zenobios thanked Polydeukes for his hospitality, Alerio slipped out of the door and signaled their driver to collect the carriage. Then he stepped to the side of the walkway to wait and watch.
A man carrying several drums and the lyre player with an instrument box cradled in his arms appeared at a servant’s exit. They paused to talk and Alerio looked away to scan the guests and coachmen as the carriages pulled up to collect the party’s attendees.
Armenius and Zenobios came through the door and the Legionary fell in behind them.
“Sisera, you didn’t partake of the festivities,” Armenius scolded him.
“I’ll eat when you are back in your apartment, sir,” Alerio replied.
Halfway down the walk, the sounds of drums hitting the ground caused Alerio to snap his head in that direction.
The drummer, holding a knife in his hand, charged at Armenius.
“Brindisi for Brindisians,” he screamed. “Brindisi for Brindisians.”
Behind the assassin, the lyre player ran in the opposite direction.
‘The other two probably don’t want any part of this,’ flashed through Alerio’s brain as he ran to meet the attacking drummer.
But something nagged at the back of his mind, some recent lesson or experience. Then, the Legionary dug in his heels. Only one musician ran away. The piper wasn’t with him.
Alerio twisted around, half off balance, he looked beyond Armenius and saw the piper draw back an arm holding a spear.
“Down,” Alerio shouted as he took two steps and launched himself.
Armenius and Zenobios, their bellies full of food and heads soaked in wine, stared stupidly at the bodyguard as he flew at them. Alerio collided with the men, knocking both to the walkway. Coming up fast, with knees bent, he spun, drew the gladius, and slashed the drummer. Then, he grabbed Armenius and Zenobios by their robes and pulled them to the wall. He dumped the dignitaries in the dirt of a flower bed.
The attackers used the same type of diversion he experienced at the Golden Valley compound. Had the manager, in her esoteric manner, tipped him off to the method of the assault? Putting the thought aside, he hovered over Armenius and Zenobios holding the gladius and the hunting knife out to ward off any more assailants.
Fatal Obligation Page 8