Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 2

by J. Clifton Slater

  Ahead of them, the Servian Wall loomed and on the south end of Quirinal Hill, they passed the last Villa. Small trees and grass replaced the walls and courtyards of homes.

  The natural landscape continued around to the western slope of the hill. At the base, a road bordered the stockyards. Alerio shivered as he remembered a night of pain and confusion when he’d crossed the city. Injured and dodging the city guardsmen and the crime syndicate, Spilled Blood, he’d barely reached the Golden Valley trading house before passing out. Now at least, it was only the city guard after him.

  Viewing for the funeral games was provided by the natural Amphitheatre of the slope. Rows of seating for important people had been constructed along the crest of Quirinal. On each end of the rows, dirt had been piled and flattened and platforms built. Obviously, these were for the Consuls and their guests. Lower down, commons citizens and visitors to the Capital would have to make do with sitting on the grass. Food and beverage vendors had claimed territory and were already cooking or setting out their wares. And placed around the hill for easy access, betting stalls were going up.

  The three infantrymen wheeled to the north and marched up the road following the fencing for the stockyard. They passed penned in cows, bulls, sheep, goats, horses, mules, and ponies. Their destination sat at the end of the pens.

  A raised area, usually for displaying livestock during auctions, had been heightened with a thick layer of sand. Behind the makeshift arena, two Legion command tents occupied most of the space between the sand, the Servian Wall, and the pens.

  No livestock would be displayed and sold on this day. Today, the display was combat, death, and blood to honor the recently departed Junius Brutus Pera.

  “Which tent?” asked Cimon.

  Recognizing Belen, Senator Maximus' secretary, Alerio instructed, “The one on the left.”

  Chapter 9 - Pregame Diplomacy

  “Cimon. I want one of you standing guard here at all times,” Alerio instructed as they reached the tent’s entrance. “And the other patrolling inside the tent.”

  “Lance Corporal Sisera, is the armor and Legion guards necessary?” asked Belen. “It is just funeral games.”

  “It maybe games to most people but someone is taking it very seriously,” replied Alerio. “Haven’t you noticed the people watching the Villa.”

  “The Senator did and he’s been traveling with extra security,” admitted Belen. “But this is…well, I’m not sure what this is. There’s never been combat to the death as a public spectacle.”

  “A senior NCO once told me, in the presence of combat, your temper gets up and you want to lash out either verbally or with your sword,” related Alerio. "The Legionaries are here to be sure nothing more dangerous than words are exchanged.”

  “There are refreshments on the table in the back,” was all Belen had to say after Alerio’s comment.

  ***

  “That’s a veteran Legionary,” Senator Maximus bragged from outside just before he entered the tent.

  Behind him came Consul Flaccus, and five men in gold and silver trimmed tunics. Alerio assumed they were Senators or wealthy supporters of Maximus.

  “Consul Flaccus. Let’s put an end to all this ugly talk about getting involved in Sicilia,” suggested Maximus. Around him, the important men nodded their agreement. “Recent wars have cost us too much. Thanks to Consul Flaccus, our coffers are filling as we liquidate the spoils from Volsinii. But too slowly to support another war.”

  The group followed the senior Senator to the back of the tent. At the refreshment table, he picked up a piece of beef and waved it around as he continued.

  “As much as I hate to agree with Consul Caudex, the Capital needs to enlarge. In your speech, Flaccus, throw your co-Consul a bone,” Maximus urged. “Promise to support his roads and utilities bill. Maybe that’ll soothe his frail ego.”

  “Nothing short of a bloodletting will pacify his damaged ego,” Flaccus added. “Ever since my parade, he’s been worshiping at the feet of the Goddess Invidia. Every time I see him in the Senate he gives me the evil eye. The man is eaten up with envy.”

  “Oh, for Vulcan’s sake what does he want? A golden forge?” Maximus cried. “Tell him, we’ll name a boulevard after him.”

  “That’s not what he wants, Senator,” one of the men in the richly appointed tunics explained. “He wants glory and fame.”

  From outside the tent, the Legionary’s voice carried to them.

  “Tribune, good morning, sir!” the sentry called out.

  Alerio, who had been hovering near the group, immediately headed for the entrance. Before he reached the tent flaps, Consul Appease Caudex, followed by four men, strutted into the tent. One of them was a Tribune in ceremonial armor.

  “Tribune, good morning,” Alerio stated while slamming his fist into his chest.

  “And who are you?” the Tribune inquired, glancing towards the back of the tent where Cimon stood at attention. His posture was correct except for his bulging right cheek. It was obvious, the Legionary had stopped chewing a piece of food he’d snatched from the refreshment table. “And what are you doing here?”

  “Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera of the Southern Legion, temporarily detached to the Seventh of the Forty-Seventh,” Alerio responded. One of the men in Caudex’s group snapped his head around at the mention of the name. “We are security for Senator Spurius Maximus and his gladiators.”

  “Since when does the Legion protect only one citizen?” demanded the Tribune.

  “I wouldn’t know, sir,” Alerio pleaded. “We are just following orders from our Centurion.”

  Before the Legion staff officer could question him further, Consul Caudex called to the Tribune.

  “Gaius, come over here,” Caudex ordered. “Gentlemen, this is Tribune Gaius Claudius. He’s been keeping me abreast of the invasion of Sicilia by the Qart Hadasht Empire.”

  “It’s hardly an invasion, Consul,” Maximus corrected him. “They’ve occupied the northern edge of Sicilia for years. But Syracuse and the Sons of Mars have kept them on their side of the island.”

  “They did. But now the Sons have invited the Empire into Messina to protect them from King Hiero and his army,” Appease Caudex replied. His eyes were open wide with excitement and his breathing rate increased as he argued his point. “The Empire is on the threshold of the Republic and we must slam the door in their face.”

  “We can send an ambassador to Messina,” replied Maximus. “Diplomacy is cheaper than warfare.”

  “Tell them, Tribune Claudius,” Caudex ordered.

  “Sirs, I’ve been in communications with Southern Legion’s head of planning and stratagies. One, Tribune Velius, who sent envoys to Messina to speak with Admiral Hanno of the Qart Hadasht,” Gaius reported. “His reply was, and I quote: The oceans belong to the Empire. Don’t even take a glass of sea water without asking permission. And remember, the only reason you, dirt farmers of the Republic, have foreign trade is the Empire hasn’t gotten around to you, yet.”

  “That, gentlemen! That is their response,” an excited Appease Caudex shouted. “The tip of a Legion javelin is the only diplomacy the Empire understands. I say we march on Messina.”

  “And I say we don’t, co-Consul,” Marcus Flaccus said reminding Caudex that he was only half of the Republic’s leadership. “We need to improve the Capital. Even you, until recently, insisted on the importance of new roads and utilities for the expansion.”

  “And we won’t have a Republic if this affront from the Empire goes unchallenged,” Caudex growled. His eyes burned with lust for glory and he vibrated with a passion for his new cause. “I will lead a Legion to Sicilia and smash both the Empire and Syracuse.”

  “You’ll drain the Republic’s coffers to do what?” demanded Flaccus, “Capture a sea port across the Messina Strait from Rhégion. Where is the economic advantage in that?”

  “You may be right, co-Consul,” admitted Caudex, slumping. “Come, gentlemen, we have games to wi
tness.”

  ***

  Once Caudex and his entourage departed, Maximus exhaled loudly. “That went well, I guess.”

  “He gave in too quickly,” advised Flaccus. “He’s up to something. I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow in the Senate.”

  Their discussion was interrupted by the tent flap opening. Tomas Kellerian strolled in, crossed the tent and greeted the group.

  “Consul. Senators. May I present your gladiators,” he announced. “Legionaries, bring them in!”

  The three Insubri warriors had to bend their heads in order to pass through the opening. In the confines of the tent, they appeared huge. One of the Senators, involuntarily steeped back. Only Master Kellerian and Senator Maximus matched the barbarian’s girth, although Consul Flaccus was their height but lacked the mass.

  Alerio inspected his students. They were armored but didn’t carry shields or weapons. He would arm them just before they entered the sand. Even with a squad of infantrymen, it wouldn’t be a good idea to have armed warriors sitting around.

  “Win today,” Senator Maximus informed the Insubri. “And you’ll receive a pony, an escort out of the city, and a letter of safe passage to your homeland. Lose and we’ll toss your dead body in the Tiber for fish food.”

  “Seventh squad,” ordered Alerio. “Form double files. Face inward. Salute.”

  The seven Legionaries at the entrance separated into lines and turned to face each other. As Maximus marched down the lines, the Legionaries performed a cross chest salute.

  “Nicely done, Lance Corporal Sisera,” Maximus said before he left the tent followed by his group.

  “Rest. Get something to eat from the table,” Alerio told the squad. “And feed the barbarians.”

  Tomas sidled up beside him and commented.

  “Senator Maximus is impressed with you,” observed the Armorer as he shoved a pack into Alerio’s chest. “You’ve found yourself a patron.”

  “It seems I have,” admitted Alerio as he searched in the bag. “Unless my three barbarians die. Then, I don’t know. By the way, thank you for your help. What was your condition again?”

  “In good time, Lance Corporal,” the Armorer said as he went to joined the squad at the refreshment table.

  While outside, Consul Flaccus began his speech, Alerio walked to a corner and stripped off his armor. With the crowd wildly cheering the hero of Volsinii, Alerio reached into the pack and pulled out a military tunic and a scarf. He pulled the tunic over his head and draped the scarf over his shoulder. Smoothing out the wrinkles, he looked down at the insignias of his prior units and his expertise. Weapon’s Instructor, Legion Scout, and Combat Rower were the medals. The units were sewn on strips of colorful cloth.

  Once dressed, he walked to the tent exit and stepped into the sunlight. He wanted to get a look at the arena, the crowd, and the competition.

  Chapter 10 - Funeral Games

  Consul Flaccus, the Republic’s hero, finished his speech to more insane cheering from the crowd. Then he guided two young men to the hillside and the three of them climbed to his platform. It was obvious, they were the grieving sons of Junius Brutus Pera, the honoree of the funeral games. Senator Maximus greeted them with hugs and whispers, no doubt of condolences, into their ears.

  Glancing across the seating area and the grass, Alerio guessed there must be over five thousand people there to watch the games. He had no reference to gage if this meant the games were a success or not. At the other platform, Alerio noted Consul Caudex bent forward and in deep conversation with Tribune Claudius.

  “Alerio Sisera. I’m surprised to see you,” Corporal Daedalus of the city guard stated. He walked from the entrance of the other tent and stopped halfway to Alerio. “My lads have been searching high and low for you.”

  Daedalus hadn’t changed since the last time Alerio saw him. His legs were thin, a small belly strained against his sword belt, and he wore the gladius on his right hip for a left-handed draw. Despite appearances, Daedalus was deadly with a sword.

  Correction, Alerio thought, the last time he saw him, the Corporal and Recruit Sisera were bleeding as Alerio beat Daedalus’ head and helmet with a sword.

  “I told your fat men that if you wanted to speak with me, come yourself,” Alerio replied. “I was training the Insubri to murder your Etruscī.”

  “You really think Legion training will compete with instructions from a master swordsman?” Daedalus inquired.

  “Say, Corporal, why don’t we start the funeral games off right by testing your theory,” challenged Alerio. “You and me, in the sand, right now?”

  “I don’t think so, Lance Corporal,” Drustanus declined. “I’m making some fat coin on this competition. No sense messing up a sure thing.”

  Alerio started to turn away. He wanted to walk the sand. But, being wary of Drustanus, he watched the man out of the corner of his eye. The guard Corporal glanced at the top of the stockyard building, nodded, and dropped his head.

  “Private. Send Drustanus and Cimon out to see me,” Alerio shouted to the Legionary guarding the tent’s entrance.

  Without waiting for them, he took the ramp up to the elevated livestock display area. When Alerio stepped onto the sand, the crowd cheered. Not knowing what else to do, he faced the slope and the throng and saluted. As he began testing the sand for soft spots or pockets that might collapse when a gladiator stepped on the covering crust, a murmur started from the crowd.

  At the appearance of two armored Legionaries, Cimon and Drustanus, the muttering increased to rumbling until it broke into a thunderous roar. Before Alerio could speak, Cimon indicated for Alerio to face the crowd. About a third of the citizens were standing and even more, were chanting.

  “Revereor Legion, Revereor Legion,” rolled from the crowd. “Revereor Legion.”

  “Better give them what they want, Lance Corporal,” suggested Drustanus.

  “Stand by,” Alerio ordered and the three Legionaries lifted their right leg.

  And as they stomped the sand, shouted, “Standing by!”

  “Salute!” called out Alerio and the three Legionaries slammed their fists into their chests.

  Alerio lifted his eyes to Caudex’s platform. The Consul was leaning forward in his chair, beaming at the impromptu display by the Legionaries. And standing next to him was Tribune Gaius Claudius, returning the salute.

  Quickly, Alerio shifted to Consul Flaccus’ platform. There was no saluting or smiles. Just tight faces and wrinkled brows.

  “About face,” ordered Alerio wanting to disappear. “Forward march.”

  The three Legionaries left the sand and were followed by the chant of esteem and respect for the Legion. Alerio wondered if a moment of glory was worth a Senator’s patronage.

  “Take two more of the squad and slip out the back of the tent,” Alerio explained. “Daedalus was signaling someone on the roof and I want to know who. And why he has a confederate hidden up there.”

  “We’re on it, Alerio,” Cimon and Drustanus replied before marching into the tent.

  ***

  A priest shuffled to the center of the sand. He stood stoically with his head down until the cheering died off.

  Lifting his arms to the sky, he prayed, “Today we purify the soul of our brother Junius Brutus with human blood. We ask Mercury to fly his cleansed soul to the River Styx. A coin for Charon has been placed in his mouth to pay the ferryman. Be kind when you judge him Minos, Aenaeus, and Rhadymanthas. He was a good man who produced two worthy sons. May he be judged kindly and sent to his peace on the Plain of Asphodel. Let all who witness today’s events forever remember citizen, Junius Brutus Pera.”

  The priest dropped his arms and shuffled off the sand. Taking his place was a city guardsman.

  “Gladiators. I need the first pair of gladiators on the sand,” he bellowed.

  No one emerged from either tent. Corporal Daedalus and Lance Corporal Sisera were playing the same game. They wanted to see the competition before selectin
g the opponent.

  Chapter 11 - Purifying Blood on the Sand

  The guardsman called out, “Gladiators to the arena!”

  He was looking at Alerio while he yelled and ignoring Daedalus. Suddenly, Petrus stumbled from the entrance. Cimon appeared behind the big warrior holding a spear.

  “Two archers with short bows on the roof. They won’t be a problem,” he explained. “I figured they were for later. If they shot early in the matches, the gamblers would stab Daedalus in the heart. So, we decided he would send out his strongest first and hold the archers for his weakest.”

  Alerio nodded his approval and gratitude. He took the spear from Cimon.

  Handing the weapon to the Insubri, Alerio advised, “Petrus. For your life and your freedom, kill the Etruscan.”

  “You teach well, Legionary,” the big barbarian stated. Then he marched up the ramp and stopped beside the guardsman. Raising the spear over his head, Petrus shouted, “Perfututum the Republic and its Gods forsaken citizens.”

  “Nice speech,” Cimon observed.

  A round of booing came from the spectators but changed to cheers when a large Etruscan ducked out of the other tent. Alerio peered up at several of the betting stands. People were flocking to place coins on their favorite. Alerio knew it wasn’t the Insubri warrior.

  Armed with a tribal shield and a heavy sword, the Etruscī stomped to the sand. He raised his sword and saluted the crowd. A round of cheering washed over the gladiators.

  The guardsman stood between the fighters. After waiting for the crowd to settle, he raised his arms for silence.

  “Citizens of the Republic. Today we gather to honor the passing of Junius Brutus Pera,” he announced. “To cleanse his soul and to keep his memory alive, we offer three battles to the death. All enemies of the Republic, all proven warriors from the north, and all fierce and brutal barbarians. Citizen of the Republic, I give you Insubri against Etruscī! Fight!”