Illyrians prided themselves on being aggressive fighters. They replied to the Greeks by rushing at the line of individual Hoplites.
Legionaries fought head-on even when in one-on-one combat. They were trained to keep the enemy in front of their formation. The Greek soldiers, however, were fluid. They deflected with their shields and spun the Illyrians behind, or even over their heads. All the while, hacking and stabbing with their swords.
“At least they’re not afraid to come out from behind their shields and fight,” Lupus said as he hopped into the patrol boat.
Alerio prepared to follow, but had to wait his turn. Balanced on the top board of the merchant vessel, he studied the fighting. After a final look at the fleeing Illyrians on the beach, he peered up at the Legionaries on the stairs.
Corporal Cephas had only five healthy Legionaries on the steps. On the roof to the right, two Legionaries stood protectively over two fallen comrades. Across the stairs on the other roof, Marija and a Legionary favoring a wounded leg, stepped back as four Illyrians dashed in and out attempting to inflict damage on the lone pair. The Legionary stumbled and dropped to a knee. Instead of deserting him, the Macedonian stepped forward using her body and spear to defend the injured Legionary.
The Illyrians facing the lone warrior turned to each other, nodded and tensed. One final attack and they could circle around behind the unit blocking the stairs. One more assault, and Bovesia would fall.
Like an avenging Greek god, Hyllus leaped onto the roof. In five long strides, he joined Marija. The Athenian used his big shield to drive two Illyrians back while hoisting his sword high overhead. A powerful slash brought the blade downward and across the bodies of the other two. They stumbled away clutching gaping wounds to one’s chest and the other’s stomach. Hyllus and Marija advanced on the last two pirates.
Alerio missed the rest of the fight as he dropped painfully into the patrol boat.
***
“Stand by oars,” shouted the helmsman, “Dip oars, and stroke, stroke.”
The patrol boat glided away from the transport. The Legionaries were hot to join the fight. But, on the fourth stroke, three signals sounded the end of the battle for Bovesia.
Horns sounded from the Illyrian ships and from the Greek trireme. By the last note, the surviving pirates were flowing down from the stairs, or across the beach, and lining up for the ramps leading to their ships. The Greeks with no enemy nearby, answered their own horn, and jogged toward their ship.
Chapter 31 – Wayward Assassin
The patrol boat passed the two Illyrian warships. They rowed frantically toward deep water, and the Legion boat rowed just as sharply for shore. Further down Bova Beach, the Greek warship lagged behind, but not by much. Soon the trireme had pushed off the beach, the sailors scurried aboard, and the three tiers of oars dipped. It was obvious from their immediate launch, they planned to chase down the Illyrians.
The patrol boat reached shore and with the keel grinding on the sand, the twelve healthy Legionaries leaped to the beach. Alerio, along with the other walking wounded, rolled over the gunwales and waded slowly to shore. Despite their injuries, they pulled and shoved the boat up onto the beach. At least far enough so the severely injured wouldn’t drift away.
Half the fit Legionaries bolted up the stairs to render aid to the town’s defenders. The other half spread out on Bova Beach and began to relieve wounded Illyrians of their pain.
***
Alerio found a broken spear on the beach. Using it as a crutch, he limped to the body of the man thrown from the bow of the Illyrian warship.
The body was of a graying older man with a bald spot on the back of his head. Alerio rolled him over expecting to see stab wounds. When the body rolled, there were no indications of blade cuts. Confused, he rolled the body back onto its face. After lifting the man’s tunic, Alerio upon closer inspection located a small hole. Less than a coin’s thickness around, the puncture wound, off to the side of the man’s lower back, was barely noticeable. He rolled the body again and studied the face. It was a good face, with ropy muscles beneath the deeply tanned creases. But, the skin had a yellow pale to it, which extended to the yellow tinting of the man’s eyeballs.
A groan came from the side and Alerio turned to see the second man who was thrown from the warship. His hand reached out and clawed at the sand. For a moment Alerio thought he was attempting to crawl out of the surf. But the hand didn’t stretch out. The fingers dug down creating a shallow hole.
The memory of the injured Legionaries from the boat and the bodies on the stairs and roof tops came to Alerio. He reached back and pulled the Golden Valley dagger. While he struggled to stand, the man’s hand continued to scoop out sand and rocks. Clearly, the man sought to dig a hole.
With the dagger in one hand, Alerio reached the man. He turned him over and saw a stab wound. The blade had entered the top of the chest muscle but was deflected by the ribs so it didn’t penetrate into the torso. A small exit hole below the man’s nipple showed the path of the blade.
“This is for the Legionaries who go to the Fields of Elysium thanks to the Illyrians,” Alerio said as he showed the knife to the injured pirate.
Alerio expected either rage or resignation from the Illyrian. He wasn’t expecting to see the man smile. The man slowly raised a hand and gently laid it over the blade of Alerio’s knife. With his other hand, the man began to pull up the leg of his worn, woolen pants. As he gathered the material, a sheath came into view. When it was fully exposed, the man flicked a strap and the blade holder parted revealing a knife.
Hidden on the inside of the man’s thigh was a Nocte Apis; the blade of the Dulce Pugno.
The night bees were the exclusive property of the Sweet Fists, the assassins from the Golden Valley. For anyone not a Dulce Pugno, to possess a night bee was forbidden; it was a death sentence for the person. The Sweet Fist, when they came to reclaim their Nocte Apis blade, killed everyone near the person possessing it.
The smiling, wounded man had recognized Alerio’s knife.
“Ally,” the man whispered.
Alerio’s knife was a gift from the Dulce Pugno identifying him as an ally of the Golden Valley. As an ally, the Sweet Fists wouldn’t take a contract on him and he could go to any Golden Valley trading house for information or help. Alerio wasn’t sure if being an ally also included him helping an assassin of the Sweet Fist by rendering medical aid and sanctuary.
“What have you got there, gladius instructor?” Lupus asked as he strolled up and stood beside Alerio. He held a gladius coated in blood along the side of his leg. “Need me to put the dēfutūta Illyrian, out of his misery, for you?”
Alerio reached out and snatched the night bee while cuffing his own knife. Although not of the exact same design, the handles and scrolling on the blades were close and anyone could see both blades came from the same metalworker. “No. What I need is help getting him off the beach and somewhere where I can clean his wounds,” explained Alerio. “And that wine skin from around your neck.”
“It would easier to kill him,” replied Lupus. “And save the vino.”
“I can’t question a dead man,” said Alerio. “And I can’t press for details if he gets the rot before I’m finished with him. Now, are you going to help?”
Lupus shrugged, walked to the water’s edge and rinsed off his gladius. He dried it as he strolled back.
“Where do you want him?” the Private asked as he placed the gladius in its sheath.
***
A short time later, Lupus went in search of a medical kit after laying the Sweet Fist on a flat rock at the base of the steep hill. Alerio lifted the assassin. Drops of wine trickled onto his lips and the man’s eyes fluttered. He’d been beaten badly before the stabbing, but a quick test by Alerio failed to locate any broken bones. They were about twenty-five feet from the start of the stairs so Alerio wasn’t concerned about being overheard.
“The Nocte Apis must be returned when I am dead,” the
wounded man said.
“You won’t die from the flesh wound. Unless it’s from the embarrassment at being discovered, Sweet Fist,” Alerio said. “You’ll live.”
“It doesn’t feel so at the moment,” the man mumbled. “I am Gilibertus. A trader from the Golden Valley. The Illyrians attacked the ship I was traveling on. They took me as an oarsman.”
“Good story. Now Dulce Pugno Gilibertus, who stabbed you, and who is the dead man on the beach?” asked Alerio. Then, he added, “And how did you get caught? Your brothers and sisters are usually more careful.”
Before the assassin could answer, Lupus arrived with a Legion medical kit and a bucket of water.
Chapter 32 – Acolyte of Angitia
Lupus built a fire and rested the iron tip above the flames. Once the iron poker was heated, he pressed it into the chest wounds. Gilibertus screamed and passed out as the smell of melting flesh reached Alerio’s nostrils. Lupus inhaled deeply and his eyes glowed with pleasure.
“They always go out and miss the aroma,” said the Private as he lifted the iron to his nose and sniffed. “Don’t you just love the smell of flesh cooking?”
“Why is it, Private Lupus, you are only a Private at your age?” asked Alerio trying to change the subject. “And don’t tell me it’s because you’re incompetent. I saw you giving orders on the transport and leading the Legionaries in the attack.”
“And I’m a fine swordsman. In spite of your cheating ways, gladius instructor,” Lupus teased with a grin. “I’m from the central tribes of the Republic.”
“When I was a small lad, my parents sold me to the temple of Angitia,” explained Lupus. “The temple was always short of children. Oh, not because they abused us. On the contrary, as potential priests and priestesses, we were fed well, and taught letters and numbers. No, the shortage came because this sect of Angitia showed homage to the Goddess by handling her snakes. You’ve got to start a devotee young when working with living snakes. Unfortunately, not many of the children were granted the gift by the Goddess.”
“Those without the gift, or lacking pure intentions, got bitten. The priests would hold hot iron pokers on the bite marks as a way to burn out the venom. After a while, I grew to love the smell. The aroma of burning flesh means a second chance. If the bite was only the result of impure thoughts, then the Goddess, and the red-hot iron, would allow the bitten to continue the training. If it truly was a lack of the gift, Angitia would take them from this world,” the Legionary explained. “I was kissed twice by Angitia’s pets in my early years.”
Lupus rolled up the left sleeve of his tunic. The scars looked as if candle wax had dripped down the back of his arm. He lifted the left side of his tunic displaying another line of melted flesh on his chest.
“Kissed twice by the Goddess and I lived because I have the gift. As I got older, I became exposed to more of the mysteries of Angitia. Beyond the public rituals of snake handling, the sect makes medicines from the venom. There was this little girl, like a sister to me she was. One day while milking a snake,” he continued to share, but stopped when Alerio’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, you didn’t know you could milk a snake like a goat or a cow. Yes, Lance Corporal, you milk them by placing the fangs against the side of a smooth clay bowl. Press down lightly and the snakes ejects a milky substance. It’s used in many potions.”
“This little girl hung around me like I’m her big brother,” Lupus said. “One day while I milked a snake, she reached into the box with the other snakes. I heard her cry out. When I turned, she was withdrawing her arm from the box. There were three kisses from the Goddess on her tiny arm. It was early morning and none of the priests or priestesses were nearby. There was only one way to save my little friend. I had to burn out the venom.”
Alerio watched Lupus’ face for any sign of distress. There was none. The Legionary had stopped with a smile on his face as if reliving a pleasant morning on a farm. After a time, he resumed his tale.
“I kicked over a brazier, grabbed a piece of cloth, and picked up the hot dish,” he explained. “But my little friend didn’t have the gift. No matter how many times, or how hard I pressed the metal to her arm, the Goddess called her from this realm. When they found us, I was holding the lifeless form of my friend in my lap still pressing the cold metal to Angitia’s kisses.”
“Three snake bites to a child?” stated Alerio. “On the farm, we had grown men die from one bite. I can’t see how a child could survive three strikes from three snakes.”
“That’s what the priestess said. But, I knew better. If the Goddess had given her the gift, my little friend would have lived,” Lupus said. “I blamed the Goddess, and finally, my rantings got me expelled from the order. With no other prospects in sight, I joined the Legion.”
“You joined as a full-grown man,” Alerio said. “That’s why you’re an older Private?”
“Ah, gladius instructor, you are kind like a dove in the meadow at first light,” Lupus exclaimed. “I was eighteen when I joined the Legion. One thing being in a temple teaches you is focus. While the other lads in my training unit struggled to learn, I calmed my mind. A call to Angitia, like when I was preparing to handle the snakes, allowed me to open my mind to new things. Like a new unsullied scroll, I absorbed the lessons and graduated at the top of my class.”
“A few years later, my Century marched north,” Lupus continued. “By then I was a squad leader. When our Corporal fell and broke his foot, because I learned to write and do numbers at the temple, I was promoted to the position. We met the barbarians north of a large trading town. For five days, we engaged, rotated off the line, rested, and went back into the fray. For five days, we delivered death, and accepted death into our ranks. By the time the hoard vanished into the mountains, my Century had lost only ten of our sixty Legionaries. Other Centuries had suffered much greater loses. Angitia watched over us is how I explained our low causality rate.”
“You know what they say - never talk politics or religion around a campfire. Well, I broke the rule,” admitted Lupus. “After announcing Angitia was the source of our luck, a few of my Legionaries challenged my assertion. Did I mention, we had consumed a large quantity of vino? We had. I went into the fields, and as I’d learned to do as a little lad, I gathered a sack full of snakes.”
“You brought snakes into a Legion camp?” a horrified Alerio asked.
“Only ten, but five were babies. I was a little drunk. If I’d been clear headed, I could have found more,” Lupus explained. “I called the Century to attention and explained the gift of Angitia while the pokers heated in the fire.”
“What did you do?” demanded Alerio.
“I had those brave enough, and with enough faith, put their arms into the sack,” described Lupus. “Some emerged with no kisses form Angitia. Others were chosen and I placed the iron pokers on their kisses. The sweet smell of second chances filed our Century’s area, and the hand of the Goddess moved through our ranks.”
“How many died?” Alerio asked.
“The Goddess only took five,” boasted Lupus. “We would have discovered how many more had the gift, but my Sergeant arrived, and stopped the ritual.”
Alerio for the first time looked closely at the Legionary’s eyes. They were open wide, and he stared as if looking into another world. In that look, Alerio recognized the fever of a true fanatic.
“I was transferred to the Southern Legion and placed in Second Squad,” Lupus concluded. “Sadly, my Lance Corporal has an unnatural fear of snakes. Just the mention of snakes, or the Goddess Angitia, and he gives me extra duty.”
Private Lupus packed up the iron poker and the ointments. He stood and looked down at Alerio.
“Don’t tell him about our talk,” begged Lupus. “If he finds out, he’ll put me on latrine duty for a week.”
Alerio let out his breath slowly as the Legionary strutted away. Then, Gilibertus stirred and he glanced over at the assassin.
Chapter 33 – City State Politics
Gilibertus groaned and asked for water. As Alerio held the ladle, he tried to clear his mind of snakes and snake bit victims.
“Will I live?” asked Gilibertus.
“You are cleaned, salted, burned, greased up, and alive,” Alerio informed him. “All signs point to your survival.”
“Then you are truly an ally of the Golden Valley,” the assassin said. “How may I repay you?”
“Answer some questions,” replied Alerio. “Who stabbed you? Who is the man on the beach? And how were you discovered?”
“The body on the beach is the former assistant Navarch of the Illyrian Navy,” Gilibertus said. “He died and a commander more in favor with Martinus Cetea took his place.”
“How did he die? I examined the body and the only mark is a small hole in his back,” explained Alerio.
“His is dead,” was all Gilibertus would say.
Alerio recognized the evasion. The Dulce Pugno never talked about the target of a contract, or the client who ordered the assassination.
“I assume the new assistant Navarch is the man who stabbed you,” Alerio said then asked. “How did they catch you?”
“Yes, the new assistant stabbed me after they found a deceitful note by my patron in the dead man’s belongings. Just one person knew of my position as a rower on the warship,” Gilibertus explained. “He has broken the contract and will suffer the penalty. But, you haven’t asked the proper questions.”
“What are the proper questions?” asked Alerio.
“Why would the Illyrians attack Bovesia?” suggested Gilibertus. “And, why would the Greeks interfere?”
“I guessed the Illyrians wanted the supplies and Bovesia was handy,” said Alerio.
“No, ally. The pirates are seeking a merchant ship,” Gilibertus said. “One sailing from Egypt to Syracuse to Greece. A ship with the ability to make common cause between Alexandria and Athens.”
“Why would the Illyrians care if Athens and Egypt signed a treaty?” asked Alerio.
Bloody Water (Clay Warrior Stories Book 3) Page 11