Alerio pointed to the three warriors slumped on the bench.
“Across the city, three Etruscans are being fed, watered and trained,” the Lance Corporal explained. “Forget they’re enemies of the Republic. Think of them as prized, and yes dangerous, racehorses. Guard them, care for them, and during the games, bet your coins on them. Do that and they’ll kill three Etruscans for us. And, you’ll make a profit.”
“You really think they can win?” one of the house guards asked. “The Etruscans are being trained by Corporal Daedalus of the city guard. He’s a great swordsman. I saw him destroy every opponent in the harvest games last year.”
Alerio turned so his right shoulder faced the guards displaying a row of scars. Then, he reached across his chest and traced the two lines on his shoulder cap with the tips of two fingers.
“See these scars? Corporal Daedalus tattooed them on me,” Alerio informed them. The faces of the house guards fell as they peered at the marks left by Daedalus’ gladius. “Yes, he stabbed me. Just before I beat in his helmet and knocked him out. If the marshal hadn’t pulled me off, I’d have killed him. You see, I was upset with him for marring my perfect skin.”
The house guards studied the crescent shaped scar on the Legionary’s head, the line on the back of one arm, the scars on his forearms, the top of one hand, and on his right hip. All from blade attacks. Then, there were the sunken holes in his thigh and side from where arrows passed through the muscle and flesh.
“Excuse me,” one of the guards expressed his puzzlement. “I don’t understand what you mean? No offence Lance Corporal but, your skin is far from perfect. You’ve got battle scars.”
The other three guards groaned.
“What he means is, he’s better than Daedalus,” another guard explained.
“Oh, then why didn’t he say so in the first place?” asked the confused guard.
“Weapon’s instructor, the Insubri will be well cared for,” another guard promised ignoring the thick-headed guard. “When do you want to start the training?”
“Feed and water them and let them rest tonight,” answered Alerio as he slipped a tunic over his head. “I’ll be back before dawn.”
Alerio left the sand pit area, crossed the Senator’s manicured lawn and took the clay brick path around the Villa.
Once past the front gate, he paused to bow respectfully to the statue of Bia, one of Jupiter’s winged enforcers. After a silent prayer thanking her for his bodily strength, Alerio turned south and headed for the Chronicles Humanum Inn.
Chapter 2 – Tangled Up in Politics
The great room of the Inn held a full complement of junior officers, senior NCOs, and a few lady friends. Every table was full of food and drink. Two waitresses scrambled to keep the customers happy. Behind the granite counter, Thomasious Harricus busily filled mugs with vino.
“Give me a mug of wine, Master Harricus,” Alerio ordered as he approached the innkeeper. “I’m heading for the baths.”
“I’m curious to know what Senator Spurius Maximus wanted with you,” Thomasious replied as he slid a mug across the granite top. “But as you can see, my establishment is at capacity.”
“Where did all the Legionaries come from?” Alerio asked.
“Still lingering in the Capital after General Flaccus’ victory parade,” explained Harricus. “They’ll be heading out to new assignments in a day or so. Right now, I’ve got a bunch of them here and I need to make coins. Off you go.”
“We’ll talk later,” Alerio promised as he walked to the double doors at the end of the counter and pushed through to the rear hallway.
***
The Lance Corporal soaked in the tub sipping his vino. It was the first chance he’d had to relax since the trip from his father’s farm. When he reported in at the Legion Transfer Post at the Capital, a letter from Senator Maximus waited for him.
‘Lance Corporal Sisera. As soon as you receive this missive, report to my Villa without delay. General Spurius Maximus.’
With a slight detour to drop his gear and clean up a little at the Chronicles Humanum Inn, Alerio had taken a carriage to Villa Maximus. There he found three half-starved Insubri warriors and an impatient Senator.
“Consul Caudex wanted to see Insubri and Etruscī die on the wood,” Maximus explained. “Probably as public revenge for Senator Gurges’ death. My friend, Junius Brutus Pera, was deathly ill. I convinced his sons to hold a public gladiator fight in his honor when their father’s strings were cut. As a result, instead of simply crucifying the Insubri and Etruscī, six captured tribesmen are going to entertain the crowd in death matches.”
“Why am I here, General?” asked Alerio.
“You’re going to train the Insubri, weapons’ instructor,” Maximus announced. “And when they win, I’m going to gloat in Appease Caudex’s face while I take the whiny cūlus’ coins.”
Alerio shook his head to clear the memory. He couldn’t get over the disrespect the politicians showed each other. When rivalry between units in a Legion arose, they settled it with physical games. Afterwards, they saluted the winner with drinks. In the Senate of the Republic, the rivalries took a darker turn. The games involved political maneuvering and mentally stabbing your opponent in the back. Afterwards, the winners gloated while the losers plotted revenge. It was well over the head of a simple Legionary.
***
“Lance Corporal Sisera?” a man asked as he stepped into the bathhouse. Thick set and wearing the armor of a city guardsman, the man stood with his fist resting on his hips. Following closely behind, came another large guardsman. Their swords were sheathed but, due to their size in the confined space, they didn’t require blades to be threatening.
“I’m Alerio Sisera,” he responded while eyeing his sword and knife which he’d left on a bench, far out of arm’s reach. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“Did you hear that, he called us gentlemen,” the lead city guard exclaimed.
“He doesn’t know us very well, does he?” the other replied.
“My friend is right, Sisera, you don’t know us,” the first sneered. “And you don’t want to. Just be sure the Insubri die gloriously at the funeral games and you never will. If they win, you’ll wish you’d never met us.”
“Listen up, Sons of Coalemus,” Alerio instructed as he climbed out of the bath. “Tell Daedalus, the next time he wants to talk with me, come himself. Don’t waste the God of Stupid’s time by sending the two of you.”
They both bristled, swelled up like roosters, and took a half step to circumvent the bath. Then, a club’s head shot through the door striking one of the guardsmen in the back. Spread-eagle, he splashed into the tub. Next a fist hammered the other guardsman in the back of his head and he joined his friend in the water. Erebus, Thomasious Harricus’ barbarian servant, stepped over the threshold.
“Master Sisera. I’m sorry to disturb your bath,” Erebus announced while ignoring the two men. They were struggling to shove each other out of the way so they could stand in the deep tub. “But I need to lock it up for the night to prevent unauthorized use.”
“I understand,” Alerio replied as he gathered his belongings and walked by the servant.
Erebus stepped out, slammed the door, and dropped a beam across the frame.
“I’m leaving to run an errand for Master Harricus,” the big barbarian apologized. “The bath won’t be open until I get back in the morning.”
“I got the road dust washed off. And some merda from the city streets out from under my feet,” Alerio proclaimed. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“You are welcome, Lance Corporal Sisera,” Erebus said as he lumbered towards the stables.
Alerio headed across the compound to the Inn’s rear entrance. He’d had a busy day and needed a good night’s rest to avoid Insubri swords in the morning.
***
Long before first light, Alerio pushed through the double doors and strolled into the great room. As he expected, Thomas
ious Harricus sat staring out the window at the dark street.
“Good morning. Care for some company?” Alerio asked.
“Please, I’ve been waiting for you,” Thomasious replied indicating a chair, a covered platter in the center of the table, and a pitcher. “You owe me an explanation from yesterday.”
As Alerio sat, the innkeeper poured watered wine into a mug, then he lifted the cover. Ham slices, cheese and a loaf of bread filled the platter.
“I suppose you mean General Maximus’ summons,” Alerio stated as he ripped off a piece of bread and piled ham and cheese on it. “He wants me to train some Insubri for a funeral game.”
“Gladiator blood matches for the public,” Thomasious corrected him. “For years the Patrician families have held private matches at the grave sites. Human blood, after all, helps purify the deceased soul. But, we’ve never seen the sacrifice as a public spectacle. And between hardened warriors, at that. It should be a great show. If you’re training the Insubri, who is training the Etruscī?”
“Master Harricus. If you know it’ll be between three Insubri and three Etruscī, I have to believe, you know that Corporal Daedalus is the other weapon’s instructor,” Alerio said between bites. “It’s just a dressed-up execution. Why is everyone taking it so seriously?”
“There are many factions in the Senate. But two are very large. Appease Caudex controls one powerful group,” explained Thomasious. “Can you guess who heads the other?”
“Spurius Maximus?” ventured Alerio.
“Exactly. When Maximus’ man, Flaccus, rode triumphally through the streets of the Capital after draining the city’s coffers to fund his Legion, Caudex lost his bearings. He uttered some very rude things in public,” related Thomasious. “The gladiator game is more than a funeral rite. It’s a proxy fight between powerful men.”
“And powerful men don’t like to lose,” Alerio stated as he stood.
“Now, you go off and play with your savages,” Thomasious advised as he stood. “I’ve got to call the city guardsmen.”
“The city guards? Whatever for?” asked Alerio.
“I seem to have rats in my bathhouse,” Thomasious replied. “And I’d like to have witnesses when I open the door.”
Chapter 3 - Villa Maximus
“Names!” demanded Alerio of the three warriors standing in front of him. When none spoke, he asked again and gave them something to think about. “Names? Did you eat last night? Were you beaten? I see full bellies and no new bruises. Except for the welts I beat into you last evening. Wouldn’t you like a chance to pay me back?”
“Petrus,” one replied with a grin on his wide face. “I would pay you back.”
He was a solidly built man - thick of arms and legs with a neck like a bull. Alerio walked over to a weapon’s rack and snatched up two spears. Tossing one to Petrus, the Lance Corporal carried the other as he walked a careful circle around the man.
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 knee 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 for 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 for
ward 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 choices. 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.
Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 2 Page 24