“As a city state, they don’t. It’s their benefactors who seek to interfere with the treaty,” Gilibertus explained. “Think. Why would the seagoing Illyrians, who don’t colonize, attack Bovesia? Unless paid to do so.”
The assassin raised an arm and pointed out to sea. Three triremes with light brown sails billowing in the wind floated across the horizon. Between the sails, and hull color, the three distant warships were identifiable as Qart Hadasht navy.
“The Empire cares and their gold and trading agreements buy a lot of favors,” proclaimed Gilibertus. “The Greeks also seek the merchant ship. It’s why they came to your rescue; they want to keep Bovesia free, and under the protection of the Republic.”
“I don’t understand. Why is a trading treaty between Athens and Alexandria threatening to the Qart Hadasht Empire?” asked Alerio.
“I only know what I leaned while rowing on the Illyrian warship,” admitted Gilibertus.
The trumpet from the watch stand blared. Three notes of three sounded, signifying the Empire warships were in the area. From high up in the town, Corporal Cephas called out for the Legionaries to form up.
“I have to go,” said Alerio. “What can I do for you?”
“If you have coin to lend, I will signal for a fisherman’s boat, and leave,” Gilibertus said.
Alerio reached under his tunic, pulled out the Nocte Apis and a coin pouch. After handing them to the assassin, he helped him stand. Gilibertus staggered up the beach toward the bank of the Kaikinos River. Alerio turned and limped down Bova Beach in the opposite direction. Pain radiated from his side and his thigh at the thought of climbing the stairs.
Chapter 34 – Reinforcements and Reports
The healthy Legionaries stood as if on parade across the stairs, and over the roof tops. Behind them, and hidden from view by the shields were the walking wounded. These Legionaries lay tending their injuries. If the Qart Hadasht warships beached and attacked, they would be available to man the lines. Far behind the injured Legionaries, merchants and citizens huddled in groups.
Alerio, on the right roof top, leaned on his armor and wrote on a piece of parchment. Other than a smear of ointment and a change of bandages, he required no additional treatment. His helmet rested on his bent knee. A piece of parchment was wrapped around the back of the helmet to provide a writing surface.
“Writing your last will and testament, gladius instructor?” asked Private Lupus.
“No, a letter to my family,” lied Alerio.
In reality, he was crafting a note to Tribune Velius. The information might be old stuff. If old, at least it would confirm what the spy master already knew. If new, it was information the planning and strategies commander could use to fill in his map.
“Stand down,” announced Corporal Cephas as the sails on the warships disappeared over the horizon. “Looks like the Qart Hadasht navy took one look at you killers, urinated in their silk panties, and decided to go bother a softer port of call. Squad leaders, on me.”
The trumpet blared again from the watch tower. The Legionaries on the front line had just hoisted their shields when the trumpet sounded. Everyone tensed and counted notes. When it passed three, they relaxed. At five they smiled, when five additional notes followed, they began to cheer.
“Mail and reinforcements,” Corporal Cephas said. “Let’s get a squad on the beach and another on the stairs. Let’s go people; the Legion isn’t paying you to sit around wasting a perfectly good day.”
***
By the time one squad was on the beach, and the squad members from another stood on separate steps, two Legion patrol boats come into view. The boats beached and seventy Legionaries waded ashore. Medics carrying heavy bags made straight for the steps.
“How did you know we needed medics?” Alerio asked a short time later.
“A Greek warship rowed into Rhegium and talked with the Colonel last night. We rowed out at dawn but Occhio was attacked so we stopped there. Not too much work for me. The lads saw them coming and rained arrows down on the Illyrians. After a skirmish, the pirates boarded their ship and rowed out. Then we headed here,” the medic explained as he peeled back the dressing on Alerio’s side. “Someone is good with the hot poker. A little more ointment and you’ll be as good as I can make you. It’s rest and time now.”
A Legionary with two huge pouches bouncing on his thighs came up the stairs. He was delayed as the stairs were full of equally loaded down citizens making the decent. After he navigated the crowd and arrived on the upper level, he began to shout.
“Lance Corporal Sisera, Third Century, Eighth Squad,” the man called out. “Lance Corporal Sisera?”
“Here. Over here,” Alerio replied.
The mail carrier dropped a sealed parchment into Alerio’s lap. After an exchange of coins, the man left with the parchment for Tribune Velius.
Alerio broke the seal and unrolled the letter.
Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera, 3rd Century, Eighth Squad
Greetings, hopefully this missive finds you in good health.
There is a town on the Kaikinos about eight miles upriver.
I would appreciate a report on the mood of the Republic’s
citizens from Passomasseria. Specifically, concerning
any contact with foreign agents. With great
anticipation, I await your report.
Tribune Velius, Southern Legion Planning & Strategies
“Lupus. What’s the best way to get upriver?” Alerio called over to the Private.
“How far up?” asked Lupus. “To the split, or higher into the mountains?”
“To a town called Passomasseria,” Alerio said.
“It’s about eight miles,” Lupus explained. “Our patrol boats can make the trip. Much beyond there and you’ll need a trapper’s canoe. Or you can hike, but it’s steep trails and high plateaus most of the way. Oh, that’s right, you have an arrow hole in your leg. Forget the hike.”
Alerio struggled to his feet, which wasn’t as difficult as bending over to pick up his armor and helmet. Finally, when he had the gear in hand, he went in search of Corporal Cephas.
He located the Corporal, the Century’s seven squad leaders, and their Centurion who had accompanied the reinforcements. They were meeting in the command building. Alerio found a bucket, turned it over, and placed it under the awning of the porch. He sat down stiffly to wait for the staff meeting to conclude.
***
“Lance Corporal Sisera. There are easier ways to catch flies,” said Corporal Cephas.
Alerio squinted his eyes and saw the Corporal and the Centurion looking down at him. Apparently, he’d leaned his head against a porch post, and fallen asleep with his mouth open.
“Sorry, Sir,” he replied while attempting to stand.
“As you were,” commanded the Officer. “The Medics have you on light duty. You should be in your quarters resting. But, I’m glad to find you here.”
“Why’s that, Sir?” Alerio asked.
“Two of my squad leaders and my Corporal seem to have developed an obsession,” the Centurion said. “They can’t stop relating tales of bravery, cunning, and acts of outright stupidity by one Lance Corporal Sisera. Seeing as you saved the lives of my Legionaries while, somehow miraculously surviving, I wanted to thank you.”
“I was just doing my duty, Sir,” Alerio replied. “But, if you’re feeling generous, I have a favor to asked.”
“What is it gladius instructor?” the Centurion said with a broad smile. From the look and mention of his title, Alerio know Cephas had related the stick versus gladius story.
“I have to go to Passomasseria for Tribune Velius,” Alerio said. “A ride would be appreciated.”
At the mention of the planning and strategies officer, the smile vanished.
“Here’s the truth Lance Corporal. The Illyrians could return at any time,” the Centurion said. “I can’t spare a single man, let alone twenty to row you up river for a spy mission. Besides, you’r
e on light duty. If I let you go off on a mission before being cleared by medical, I could end up on the Coronel’s merda list.”
“But Sir,” Alerio began to protest when Corporal Cephas stepped between him and the officer.
“Stand down, Lance Corporal,” the Corporal ordered although Alerio was still sitting. “Go get some rest, and we’ll revisit the topic in a few days. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Corporal,” Alerio said meekly.
The Legion demanded discipline, and the punishment for any infraction could be brutal. Even if the offender was a hero, the questioning of a Centurion once he rendered his decision, could include digging trenches, cleaning out latrines, beatings with a staff, running to full exhaustion, or other difficult tasks. As Alerio was wounded and unfit physically to perform extra duty or to withstand a beating, the most likely penalty would be lashes from a whip.
The Corporal had just saved the hardheaded young Lance Corporal from a world of hurt.
If Alerio had the time to ask, Cephas would have told him, “It would be a waste to have a Legionary damaged more than Sisera was already.” Not because he was overly found of Alerio. It was simply, Corporal Cephas hated waste.
The Corporal and the Centurion walked off and Alerio stood, but he was bent over. Inching around until he could get both hands on the center post, Alerio walked his hands up the beam until he stood upright.
Limping slowly, he made it to his room in the supply building. After stripping off his shoulder rig, and slinging his duel sheaths over the wall peg, he sat on the edge of the bed. A grunt escaped his lungs as he leaned down to loosen the straps on his hobnailed boots. Once he kicked them off, he fell back on the bed. The day’s events faded, and sleep came quickly to the weary Lance Corporal.
Act 6
Chapter 35 - Rest and Reputation
A night, a day, and half the next night passed before Alerio stirred. Still half asleep, he rolled over on his right side. Pressure caused the wounds to throb, and the pain jolted him fully awake.
Crawling weakly out of bed, he inched across the floor to his personal pack. From it he pulled a narrow bundle of silk. After unrolling the twelve feet of black silk, he measured a section and sliced off a length. The longest piece was tightly wound around his waist. The shorter piece he used to wrap his injured right thigh. Next came his boots. Then after slipping on an old tunic, he left the room.
***
Corporal Cephas, as was required recently, was up well before dawn. He completed his written reports, did the Century’s accounting, and gotten a short night’s sleep. Now, he would start the day acting as the Century’s Sergeant.
“Century. On the road for exercise,” he called out while lighting a lantern. “Lance Corporals, get them up and out. Now people.”
From out of the dark, a stumbling figure emerged. He was breathing heavily and seemed to be favoring his right leg. The Corporal watched as Lance Corporal Sisera ran and hopped into the lantern light.
The Lance Corporal stopped and placed both hands on his knees.
“Good morning, Corporal,” Alerio said between clinched teeth.
“You’re up early,” Cephas noted. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I have arrow holes in my body,” Alerio, still short of breath, blew out.
“You’re supposed to be on light duty,” Cephas said. “Not hobbling around my camp in the dark. I’m surprised the sentries didn’t challenge you.”
“They didn’t need to. I found each of them,” admitted Alerio.
“You could have just found the acting Sergeant of the Guard,” Cephas explained. “He would have alerted the guards to your presence.”
“But then, I couldn’t have begged dried goat’s meat off the guards,” said Alerio.
“Hungry, were you?” asked Cephas.
“I still am. But the meat will hold me until after class,” Alerio said.
“You really want that ride to Passomasseria, don’t you?” suggested Cephas.
“I have orders and if the only thing holding me here is medical, I have to prove my fitness,” stated Alerio. “It’s going to be a basic class. No fancy dueling for me.”
“Lance Corporals. If daylight touches my heals, and everyone isn’t on the street,” shouted Cephas at the tents. “I’ll have seven squad leaders digging new latrines. Now people!”
“What did I miss yesterday?” asked Alerio.
“While you were malingering in bed all day? Not a lot. We haven’t had any merchant ships or warships come in,” Cephas said. “And Hadrian hired a crew of fishermen and sailed east for Crotone.”
Alerio smiled. It seemed Gilibertus, the assassin from the Golden Valley, had found a ride home.
A Lance Corporal came from the direction of Bovesia. He entered the garrison at a dead run and headed for one of the dark tents.
“Trouble, Sergeant of the Guard?” asked Cephas.
The acting SOG slid to a stop and faced his Corporal.
“No, Corporal. I wanted to finish rounds before checking on my squad,” the squad leader replied.
“You’re Right-Pivot should have them up,” Cephas scolded. “Shouldn’t he?”
“Lupus is a sound sleeper,” Second Squad’s Lance Corporal replied. “I’m just checking to be sure the squad is up.”
“Get them on the street,” urged Cephas.
The Lance Corporal ran into his squad’s tent. Soon shouting and a few thuds drifted to Alerio.
“Make it a short class,” ordered Cephas. “We’re running double guard duty and everyone is busy.”
“It will be, unless there are issues,” promised Alerio.
***
The sun was barely over the mountains when Centurion Laurens, Second Century’s commanding officer, strolled onto the practice field. He’d been up early and having finished his reports, he decided to check on his Legionaries.
As Laurens walked to where Corporal Cephas oversaw the wrestling, he glanced at the gladius posts. Five Legionaries were standing in a tight formation and attacking three practice posts with wooden gladii. Behind the line, a man with a silk wrap on his leg, leaned between the ranks and adjusted arms, feet, and even the head angles of the five.
“Who is running gladius drills,” asked the Officer as he approached the senior NCO.
“Lance Corporal Sisera,” replied the Corporal.
“Shouldn’t he be on light duty?” inquired the Centurion.
“According to Sisera that is light duty,” said Cephas. “At least that’s what he claimed this morning after his run.”
“I’m beginning to see why our squad leaders are so taken with him,” the Centurion said. “All right, once he’s cleared by medical he can go on his spy mission. However, we can’t spare rowers. He’ll need to find his own way to Passomasseria.”
“I’ll let him know, Sir,” Cephas replied.
***
Alerio had picked five Legionaries who failed to advance with authority. After adjustments, they were sharp and precise in their shield and gladius movements. They stood facing the gladius instructor.
“Delivering a unified first strike to the enemy puts them on notice that they are about to have a very bad day,” Alerio said to the five sweating Legionaries. “If you lag behind those around you, the enemy will see you as a flaw in the line. It gives the enemy hope. And, the one thing a barbarian warrior doesn’t have, when facing a squad of Republic Legionaries, is hope. We fight as a unit. We kill as a unit. Understand?”
“Yes, instructor,” the five responded.
“Dismissed. Stow the training gladii, and go check in with Corporal Cephas,” ordered Alerio.
As the five jogged away, Alerio placed his back against a training post. He hurt from running, and teaching. Plus, he was dirty and hungry. Across the training ground, the Century had installed a vat that was kept filled with river water by a bucket brigade. It wasn’t very far, but to the injured and exhausted Alerio, it seemed a long way.
Chapter 36 –
A Proper Meal
Alerio knew Centurion Laurens and the Medic were watching him. They were deep in conversation on the porch of the command building, but stopped when he left the supply building. He was cleaned and shaven, and wore his dress tunic with the Lance Corporal band, the instructor brooch, and the Legion Raider silk over his shoulder. Although he looked fit, he worried about making it up the steep trail to the town.
Clinching his teeth and bracing his back, he marched up the hill. He only stumbled once near the top. It wasn’t until he rounded the corner of a building, that he let the pain and cramping show. Now out of sight of the Officer and the Medic, he leaned against the wall, moaned, and began massaging his thigh.
Once the muscle loosened up, he straightened his back and jerked down the hem of the tunic. With all the dignity he could muster, Alerio limped across the plaza and entered the Columnae Herculis.
“Lance Corporal Sisera,” shouted Hyllus in surprise. “We thought you were dead.”
“No, I’m still alive,” stated Alerio.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Marija said while leaning around the doorframe from the backroom. “He checked with Corporal Cephas three times about your condition.”
The big man smiled and pointed at a corner table, “Sit little man. I’ll fetch you a meal worthy of an Athenian hoplite.”
“Does it take a lot to feed men who stand mentula to cūlus when they fight?” asked Alerio.
“You refer to the phalanx, of course,” said Hyllus after pausing to think about the description. “You try holding an Athenian shield in place while jabbing with a long spear. All the while you’re blind to what’s going on outside the shell and the commanders are shouting orders. And it’s hot with all those bodies pressed close together. We call it the love machine. Delivering a perfututum to our enemies where every we go.”
“I thought you were a rower?” ventured Alerio.
“When I was younger, I served with a phalanx unit,” said Hyllus. “But I was so tall, they placed me in the center to keep the shell balanced. Let me tell you, there’s a lot of gas expelled in those formations. And do you know what happens to hot, smelly gas?”
Bloody Water (Clay Warrior Stories Book 3) Page 12