But the lights transformation resembled a man rotating his eyes to get another man to look in a specific direction. Alerio followed Zeus’ gaze. Above the darkening horizon, a light flared to life on the hill above Cape Kepi I Qefalit. Legionaries learned how far light on high ground traveled at night. It was useful in forming an attack plan on an enemy position using their campfires as a guide. Based on the cape’s distance and the brightness of the flames, it was a beacon and not a simple cookfire.
From the gloom over the sea, the bow of a ship came into view. At first, Alerio thought it might be a fishing boat returning or a transport making a late run for the safety of the port. As it neared, the bow widened only slightly, then a double rank of oars became visible. Not a fat merchant boat or a small fishing vessel, it materialized into a warship bearing down on Kassiopi. Alerio ran to the edge of the rock so he could see down onto Bataria beach.
The bireme came rapidly covering the distance in a multiple of four over a transport under sail. It passed the broadly spread arms of the cove and like an arrow headed straight for the beach. Too fast, Alerio thought before the oars reversed and, as if the keel hit the sand, the warship stopped. Short of the anchored Thalássio Klouví by three ship’s lengths, the rowers on the starboard side shipped oars while the port side made power strokes. The bireme wheeled about until the bow pointed back at the far away beacon.
Alerio assumed the Captain was testing a new crew. If so, they had learned their rowing lessons well. Then, five men dove off the stern and swam for the beach. For a heartbeat, the Captain stood in a lantern’s light and Alerio caught a glimpse of the man. He was Illyrian. Which made the men in the water pirates.
With hobnailed boots clicking on the stone surface, Alerio raced by the Temple of Zeus. As he passed, he nodded his head in acknowledgment of the warning from the God. Then he was on the twisting path, careening down towards the beach.
Chapter 24 – Thank Zeus
Three swimmers grabbed the rail on the transport but stopped when they looked up at the deck. A heavy blunt weapon swung back and forth as if daring them to climb on board. While they hesitated to face Zoon and his club, two others reached the shallow water. One sprinted to the warehouse and the fifth pirate stopped at the shore anchor.
Cutting the last turn so tight his shoulder brushed against the stone, Alerio rounded the rock formation. The darkening beach provided only shadowy shapes but he knew the count of his enemy and scanned for them. He located one at the warehouse looking away. Apparently, he was the lookout. The other pirate on the beach had his back turned as he bent over the anchor line.
Without breaking stride, the Legionary pulled the hunting knife as his feet churned up sand and pebbles. The pirate detected the hobnailed boots crunching on the brown sand and started to twist around and unbend. He was half turned when a hand clamped over his mouth jerking him upright. Alerio rotated the knife so the cutting-edge faced upward before driving it into the Illyrian’s back. Then the Legionary combined downward pressure with one arm and an upward thrust with the knife. The blade sliced through the skin, split the man’s ribs, severed the top rib, and cleaved deeply into the one above. Although not a killing stab, it left the pirate with a ruined lung and pain so intense his eyes fluttered and his mind shut down. Alerio relieved the Illyrian of his sica before allowing him to fall to the sand.
Taking down the lookout was the next step in his initial plan. But in the lantern light, Alerio saw three shapes stalking across the deck of the transport. Zoon was backed up against the edge of the steering platform holding the club downward with both hands. Sharp blades reflected light as they cut the air and closed with the swaying and out of position blunt weapon. Fearing for the dim-witted sailor, the Legionary tightened his grip on the two knives and sprinted for the dock.
***
There were two ways to attack a battle line. The Legion taught a steady disciplined approach. Once close, a sudden shout of defiance to unnerve the enemy allowed them to bring their weapons into view. Although sounding counterproductive, it was easier for a Legionary to defend against visible blades than unseen weapons coming from unknown directions. Then, there was the barbarian approach. Screaming war cries, they attempted to intimidate their enemy in the hopes the battle line would break and cause a rout. The resulting unorganized melee being the preferred fighting style of tribal warriors.
Alerio’s boots pounded down the dock. Setting one foot, he pushed off and jumped to the ship’s rail. Another leap and he landed on the planks. The Illyrians, whether attempting to pump up their own courage or to frighten Zoon, were doing enough yelling to hide the sounds of the hobnailed boots. He sprinted down the length of the deck resisting the urge to call out. A warning shout would turn the blades away from Zoon but give the brigands a moment to organize. The Legionary didn’t want them prepared.
Alerio slammed the hunting knife into its sheath and raked the neck of the pirate in front of Zoon with the sica. Then, he bounded onto the steering platform. While the Illyrian clamped a hand to the wound, Alerio wrapped his arm around Zoon’s neck and pulled the scatter-brained sailor onto the platform. Once Zoon was out of range of the enemy blades, Alerio drew the hunting knife and face the two remaining Illyrians.
“Friends of Balaites?” questioned the Legionary as he swiped the blades at the startled pirates. “He died, you know.”
“You’re the one who killed our Captain’s brother,” accused the pirate on Alerio’s right.
“Family aside, Balaites was a braggart without enough sense to listen,” Alerio sneered. “That’s a hint. You should leave now. I will hate having to scrub your blood from the deck.”
“You needn’t worry, Latian,” the other threatened. “We’ll be washing your blood and body into the sea.”
“There’s your problem and here’s a solution,” Alerio said turning his face and speaking directly to the Illyrian warrior on his right.
“What problem?” but the pirate was talking to an empty platform.
While looking to his right, Alerio butterflied his blades and jumped to his left. The Illyrian on the left had taken his eyes off the Latian to listen to his partner’s question. Whirling blades dashed aside his knife, slashed his face, and carved up his chest. Deeply lacerated, he staggered away then dropped to his knees. His blood spilled onto the planks soaking the deck.
The other warrior hopped forward swinging his sica. But Alerio’s attack carried him beyond the stricken man, further out on the deck, and out of range.
“The answer?” Alerio informed the lone boat thief. “Who dies first.”
Alerio’s right blade came across his body to lock up the Illyrian’s blade. For a heartbeat, the warrior tried to parry and unsnarl the knives. Then he stopped struggling, dropped his chin, and stared at the sica hilt protruding from his stomach.
“You win,” Alerio advised while drawing the hilt to the side.
The long blade sliced the pirate open and his guts spilled out. A length of intestines, the Illyrian failed to catch, splattered on the deck.
Running feet alerted Alerio to the arrival of the lookout. Spinning to face the new threat, he bent his knees, spread his feet, and dropped into a fighting stance.
Suddenly, Alerio’s front leg was kicked out of position and the other leg, incapable of supporting his unbalanced weight, slipped out from under him.
Legionary Sisera had lost track of the pirate with the neck wound. In a Legion assault unit, another Legionary would have stomped the man to death. But there wasn’t a unit. Only Alerio and an injured Illyrian who revived enough to launch a surprise attack. Another issue Alerio neglected to pay attention to, the deck boards were awash in slimy blood. Both were fatal mistakes.
With the lookout nearly on him, Alerio crashed to the deck, falling on top of the wounded man’s leg.
***
Even off his feet, an attack by one man shouldn’t be a problem for an experienced weapons instructor. But the legs of the wounded Illyrian circled h
is waist, the legs tightening when the ankles locked together. The wounded pirate displayed the skills of an expert grappler. For a moment, Alerio admired the wrestler. Going so far as to imagine he might bet on the man during a face to face wrestling match. However, in the present situation, the injured man was a dangerous hindrance.
Alerio slammed his right arm out using the pommel of the hunting knife to pound the grappler’s chest. With the sica, he fought off the lookout. On the third strike with the pommel, the wrestler captured his arm. Twisting and jerking, the Legionary tried to free himself from the legs while dueling with the standing warrior. Alerio invoked both Jupiter and Zeus as he prayed for a moment to uncouple from the wrestler and gain his feet.
His prayers were partially answered by a brief reprieve when the lookout backed off and circled to the far side of the grappler. The new position meant Alerio would have to reach across his trapped torso or over his head to defend against the lookout. Making the best of the Gods’ gift, he swung his left arm over and sank the sica in the wrestler’s stomach. But the ankles remained lock even as the muscles relaxed in death. With both hands holding weapons, he arched his back as the lookout moved in from above. The hunting knife and long sica parried the pirate’s blade.
A fixed position against a mobile foe gave all the advantage to the standing Illyrian. Three flurries later Alerio’s arms were cut and bleeding. Sick of the helplessness, frustration rose in his chest sending a cry to the Legionary’s lips.
“No,” Alerio shouted.
Then, the Illyrian warrior collapsed to the deck and a face appeared above Alerio.
“No,” Zoon said. He swung the club onto his shoulder and repeated. “No.”
***
While Alerio squatted in the ocean washing off blood and bathing his cuts in the saltwater, Zoon took care of the Illyrians. Silently and disregarding the cries of pain from the wounded, he hoisted each onto his shoulder. On the beach, the slow sailor laid the wounded next to the dead in perfect alignment. Then, he went to the transport, tied a line to a pail, dropped it over the side, and scooped up a bucket of water. With each bucket he brought up, Zoon slung the contents to the boards, rinsing blood and guts from the deck.
Later, the moon appeared in the sky creating soft shadows on the transport and the beach. When it was high overhead, singing came from the other side of the warehouse. Soon the drunken harmonies grew louder as Peri, Eidos, and Neos strolled into view.
“Sisera. We looked for you but you never showed,” Peri scolded the Legionary.
“Zoon and I were a little busy,” Alerio replied. He pointed to the figures moaning or dead on the beach. “It turns out Balaites’ brother is the Captain of an Illyrian warship.”
Neos leaned in the direction of the bodies and asked, “Who are they?”
“A retrieval team come to claim Balaites’ prize,” Alerio replied.
“Five dead Illyrians,” Eidos whispered.
“Two are alive, I think,” Alerio reported. “I would suggest Captain Crypto that we leave before the bireme rows in, looking for their crewmen and their prize ship.”
Peri studied the moon and the stars.
“We’ll row out when the moon is three fingers width above the horizon,” he instructed.
“What about Kassiopi?” asked Alerio. “What will happen to them?”
“Eidos. Get back to town and tell Master Ploutos the Illyrians have broken the treaty with Corfu,” Peri ordered. Then to Alerio, he explained. “The people of Kassiopi can take care of themselves. Thank you for saving my ship.”
“Thank Zoon, he saved the ship and won the fight,” Alerio corrected. The Legionary began walking up the dock.
“Where are you going, Sisera?”
“To the Temple and thank Zeus,” Alerio responded.
“Wait up,” Peri said. “I’m going with you.”
***
In the sky, the moon slid slowly towards the horizon. On Bataria beach a crowd had gathered. Standing in formation were fifty armored Hoplites. Their bronze shields forward and their long spears reaching high into the dark. Flanking the Greek soldiers were over one hundred and fifty farmers and craftsmen. Each armed with a sharpened work tool. A Hoplite stepped out of the ranks and marched to the Thalássio Klouví.
“Are you ready to shove off, Peri?” the now armored and armed Master of Trade inquired.
“I feel bad about having caused this mess, Sminarchos Ploutos,” Peri stated.
“No one has called me Captain in years,” Ploutos replied. “Don’t worry about us. It seems the Illyrians have forgotten Kassiopi is home to a phalanx of King Pyrrhus’ army. He may be gone but his heavy infantry is still here. We’ll go easy on them but they do need a lesson in manners and honoring a treaty.”
“I’ll see you on the next trip,” Peri declared. Ploutos strolled up the dock moving as easily in the heavy armor as he did in a robe and tunic. “Eidos, cast off the shoreline. Zoon, raise the anchor.”
“Yes,” Zoon replied.
“Did Zoon just say yes?” Neos inquired.
“Neos, if you’ve finished repeating things people say, you and Sisera man the port side oars,” instructed Crypto. “Shove us off.”
The Thalássio Klouví drifted away from the beach after a gentle push off the dock from the rowers and a shove from Eidos on the sand.
“Poseidon, God of the sea. We beseech you for mercy during our travels over your domain,” Crypto prayed. “Keep the seas calm, the monsters in their depths, and the birds flying along our route. For a safe voyage from sheltered harbor to sheltered harbor, we give you thanks.”
Alerio and Neos fluttered their oars until the transport faced the open sea.
“Standby. Walk us out. Stroke, stroke…”
As he rowed, Alerio looked up at the Temple of Zeus. It was dark, the structure barely visible against the stars in the night sky. He paused in mid-stroke to bow in the direction then resumed the pace. When he returned to the Republic, he vowed to make a proper sacrifice to Jupiter.
Act 6
Chapter 25 – The Tower
“We should leave early every day,” Eidos commented.
“No, we won’t,” Peri replied. “I will not risk the boat again by sailing when it’s dark.”
In the distance, the top of a tower could be seen. Although far inland, details became clearer as the Thalássio Klouví sailed around a low point of land.
“The tower of Gitanae,” Neos explained.
“What’s it for?” Alerio inquired.
“Originally, it was built as a watchtower. From the top, it commands a view of the surrounding hills, land, and coastline,” Neos replied. “Now it’s used for religious ceremonies to honor the Gods.”
“Igoumenitsa is a walled city with an outer wall and an inner one that divides the city,” Peri stated. “You were disappointed in the size of Kassiopi. I expect you’ll be amazed by the vastness and riches of Igoumenitsa.”
“What I see is good farmland along the coast,” Alerio observed. “and a river with clear running water.”
“Are you sure you’re a soldier and not a farmer?” Eidos inquired.
“My father is a farmer, I’m a Legionary.”
The sun’s position was only halfway to its summit when Captain Crypto ordered the sails rolled and the oars manned. Unlike Kassiopi where the beach was narrow and side rocks provided support for a pier, Igoumenitsa had miles of silty beach but no rocks or docks along the shoreline. Dark, fertile soil stretched from the beach to the town’s wall where the land rose to rocky foothills.
“They built at altitude and saved the farmland,” Alerio commented. “I’d like to see that tower.”
“Stroke, stroke,” Peri ordered. “You and Zoon missed the food and drink at Kassiopi. Why don’t you take him and go see it?”
“What about it Zoon?” Eidos asked while they walked the strokes. “Are you taking the Latian on a tour of the tower?”
Several strokes later, the sailor answered, “
Yes.”
“Back it down,” Peri called.
The oars reversed, the transport slowed, and the keel dug into the soft sand and dirt of the shoreline. Already on the beach were three transports, two the size of the Thalássio Klouví, a huge grain transport, and a trireme. A few crewmen worked packing horse hair and hot resin into the side boards of the warship. Alerio figured the rest of the Greek soldiers/sailors from the three-tiered ship were in the city.
Workmen on the shore laid planks end to end until a walkway bridged the beach. A man draped in a gold trimmed robe strolled from the shore, down the boards, and stopped at the water’s edge.
“Crypto. Where did you come from?” he called up to the deck. “It’s early.”
“I couldn’t sleep and I missed your hospitality,” the Captain replied.
“Does that mean I’ll get a break on the trade?”
“No. There is no place for sentimentality in business.”
“You never change Peri. What have you got for me?”
***
The crew offloaded twenty amphorae of wine, olives, olive oil, bundles of cloth, and pieces of metal tools. Once they carried the cargo to shore and stowed it in wagons, Alerio looked up the road searching for merchandise arriving from Igoumenitsa.
“When do we get the exchange goods?”
“There are none,” Peri replied. “This is a cash port. I’ll have Eidos and Neos set the deck boards. You and Zoon catch a ride with one of the wagons. We leave at sunrise. Don’t hold me up, Sisera.”
Alerio and Zoon hurried to catch up with a wagon. They jumped into the back of one and as it moved away from the shore, Zoon lifted an arm and waved at Eidos and Neos. Both stopped while moving a board and stared. Awed by the awareness it took for the usually unresponsive sailor to motion, they stood holding the deck plank.
“Are we sealing up the cargo hold and having lunch?” inquired Peri. “Or will we spend the afternoon gawking at a shipmate?”
***
It was a long and bumpy ride causing Alerio’s rear to miss the paved roads of the Republic. Following the Kalamas River, the rutted dirt road eventually entered a gate. If anything, the rough stones of the city’s main road increased his discomfort. It was a relief when he and Zoon jumped from the back of the wagon.
Fatal Obligation Page 15