“And, where am I rowing you?” Martius asked with a puzzled look on his face.
Raising an arm, Alerio pointed across the Strait to the northwest. “To Messina, Sergeant Martius. You’re rowing me to Messina.”
Act 3
Chapter 20 - Night Ride to a Decision
The patrol boat never touched the shoreline. Slipping over the side, the Lance Corporal held his pack and bedroll above his head as he waded through the waist deep water. Sergeant Martius used a paddle to silently ease the patrol boat back into deeper water. His oarsmen knew to wait until they were far away from the drop off point before dipping their oars. With the delivery made, they drifted into the current of the Strait and away from the hook of land that created Messina harbor.
Alerio moved his feet slowly to avoid splashing as he came out of the water. From his pack, he removed a pair of heavy civilian sandals, workmen’s woolen pants, a long-sleeved shirt and a felt Petasos. Once dressed, he climbed the rocky embankment. At the top, he caught a view of Messina harbor. It lay flat and black on this moonless night. The light from three lanterns on the dock reflected off the calm surface. Surprisingly, he heard only one patrol and they were farther down the bent finger of land.
Alerio followed the spit of land dividing the Strait on one side from the harbor of Messina on the other. Once it joined the mainland, he turned towards the lanterns and the dock.
On the beach below the slope, the two Empire warships rested high on the sand. On either side, ships belonging to the Sons of Mars occupied the rest of the soft, sandy beach. Far out at the mouth of the port, he attempted to see the merchant ships that barricaded the harbor. But, the night was dark and he couldn’t make out their shapes.
The merchant ships at the dock were visible in the lantern light. He stepped down from the dirt path and onto the rough planking. Five steps later, he was challenged.
“What are you doing on the dock,” an Empire soldier with a spear, a shield and armor demanded. “What are you doing this early in the morning? Where did you come from?”
“Hold on friend. I just woke up and your drumming on me with questions?” Alerio said sounding confused. “I was sleeping by my ship. Woke up and decided to head home.”
“The dock is closed after sundown,” the soldier reported.
“Oh, I forgot,” pleaded Alerio. “Should I go back to my ship?”
The soldier started to say something then just stared at Alerio. Finally, he came to a conclusion.
“Move along. The dock is closed,” he ordered dipping his spear in the direction of the town.
Alerio stepped around the soldier. He walked along the dock, turned at a warehouse alleyway and, on the other side, strolled into Messina.
***
The warehouses, he passed between, were dark and deserted. Not as large as the storage and transfer buildings in the Capital, they certainly had the capacity to hold ship loads of pirated and even legal cargo. Messina welcomed both or at least the Sons of Mars did before the arrival of the Empire.
Alerio avoided the main road running through town and up to the Citadel. Taking a left, he walked by three narrow streets before finally entering one. Five blocks up, he turned off the street and entered a narrow alley between two-story residential homes. In the back of one, he climbed the wall and dropped into the home’s courtyard. At a shed, he eased the door open. After unstrapping his bedroll, the Legionary fluffed out the blanket and the waterproof cover. He climbed under the cover, rested his head on the sheathes sewn into one end of the blanket and went to sleep.
Dawn broke and light streaming into the shed woke him. Alerio stretched and sat up listening for activity from the house. When a man yawned loudly as if to alert the world of his presence, the Legionary rolled up his bedding and fastened the buckles. Opening the shed door, Alerio stepped out and onto the courtyard’s brick pavers.
“Good morning, Crius Nereus. Are you still the Empire’s Magistrate of Messina?” Alerio asked the man sitting on the patio.
The man jerked and pointed the knife he was using to cut his breakfast sausage in the direction of the voice. Instead of being angry at the sudden intrusion into his morning, he twisted his mouth into a cruel smile.
“I am and always will be the Captain of Messina, Lieutenant Sisera,” Nereus replied using a title from a previous action. “No matter what the dēfutūta Qart Hadasht cūlus calls me.”
“What would you say to replacing the Empire with the Republic as your protector,” inquired Alerio as he walked to the patio. Sitting in the chair on the other side of the table, he picked up the sausage. “Can I use your knife? I don’t seem to have anything shorter than a couple of man slayers on me.”
Crius Nereus ran his eyes over the Legionary searching for the swords. Alerio helped him understand by patting his bedroll.
“That’s more than my Sons have since the Empire confiscated our swords, shields, and armor,” complained Nereus. “If the Republic will let us go about our trade and let us keep our tools, the Sons of Mars will welcome the Republic.”
“Regrettably, it’ll take more than welcoming us in,” explained Alerio as he sliced off a healthy chunk of sausage. “I’ll need your help with opening the door.”
Nereus reached across the table and took the knife from Alerio.
“Ah, I see. The harbor is a formidable defense,” the Captain of Messina commented as he jabbed the air with the short blade. “We’ll need to cut an opening in the flesh to allow the hot poker in to burn out the green rot.”
“That’s a bit graphic for breakfast,” Alerio replied. “But yes, I need to open the harbor so the Legionaries can come in and remove the Empire troops.”
“And that full of merda Admiral Hanno,” added Nereus. “Every time I go to him about trouble between my citizens and his soldiers, he reminds me. His troops are the only thing keeping the Syracuse army from marching into Messina and putting all the Sons up on the wood.”
“Any idea what Hiero the Second plans,” Alerio inquired.
“According to Admiral Hanno, the King of Syracuse is petitioning the Empire to leave Messina. Hanno finds it hilarious,” Nereus said with a laugh. Then in a deep voice resembling the Admiral’s, he related, “The Empire does not surrender territory. We take it and rule it, forever.”
“I’d like to make Messina an exception to that rule,” Alerio stated. “With help from the Sons of Mars.”
“I’ll speak with my ship Captains,” Nereus assured him. “However, before I do, there is something I need you to do for me.”
“What’s that?” Alerio asked.
“I need you to kill two of my Captains first,” Nereus explained. “They’ve become overly close to the Qart Hadasht soldiers and Admiral Hanno. I can’t prove it, but we’ve attempted several subversive activities. Each time, the Empire has been there to stop us. I believe, those two Captains are selling out the Sons.”
“Crius Nereus, I’m not an assassin,” protested Alerio. “I’m a simple Legionary.”
“I understand it may sound like work for a stab them in the back killer. But it’s not. I need them to die in public with witnesses,” Nereus stated. “Think of it this way. If we plan to help the Republic and they pass on our plans to Hanno, Qart Hadasht soldiers will be waiting for your men. Make them dead or risk failing to open Messina. It’s your decision.”
Alerio placed the sliced length of sausage on the table and leaned his head back. While gazing at the blue sky, he inquired softly, “What are their names?”
Chapter 21 - Pirate’s Den
Alerio kept to the shadows on the way across Messina. Roving patrols of Qart Hadasht soldiers appeared and when he saw one, he ducked over to the next street to avoid them. According to Nereus, the Empire troops occasionally took sailors off the streets for questioning. With the mission for the Sons of Mars’ leader on his mind and no crew to claim, he’d prefer to reach his destination unseen.
The mission bothered him. It was one thing to kill during
a battle or even when attacked on the streets. But murdering a man, or two in this case, by seeking them out with the only intent being murder, didn’t sit right with the Legionary. On the other hand, if removing two collaborators allowed the Legionaries to reach Messina unchallenged, he would do it.
‘I guess this is my initiation into the dark arts of being a spy,’ Alerio thought as he leaned on a wall. Across the street, a Sons of Mars pub seemed lively.
Candlelight from the windows reflected on the pavers of the street and voices carried from inside whenever someone opened the door. And the door opened a lot. A steady flow of customers staggered out and groups of customers happily went into the Pirate’s Pride.
Alerio adjusted his Petasos, as any good spy would do, to hide his face. With the brim almost to the bridge of his nose, he crossed to the entrance.
***
It wasn’t hard to identify the three Sons of Mar’s Captains in the establishment. Solicitous crewmen identified the Captains by occupying chairs around his table while others formed a ring around their leader. The other tables in the Pirate’s Pride had patrons sitting, talking and being mostly ignored by the individual crews.
“Vino, honey wine, or fresh goat’s milk?” the proprietor asked from behind a plank counter top. The rough weathered boards, obviously from an old ship, rested on barrels.
“Goat’s milk?” inquired Alerio.
“This is your first time here, isn’t it?” remarked the proprietor. “Goat’s milk, hot and fresh from the she goat’s teats. Good for what ails you.”
“I’ll pass on the goat’s milk. Let me have the biggest mug of vino you have,” ordered Alerio. “It’s been a long day.”
He took the mug and moved to the far end of the counter. Sipping, he listened to conversations from the Captains’ tables. If both targets weren’t in here, there was a courtyard in the back to check.
Nereus had described Captain Ferox Creon and Captain Gallus Silenus. It proved to be unnecessary. A rower reared back and bursts out laughing.
“I never did that,” pleaded the laughing sailor. “tell them, Captain Silenus. Never once did I eat a living squid.”
An older man shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in a noncommittal manner leaving the sailor without support.
“You’ve eaten almost everything else,” teased another rower.
Alerio, having marked Silenus, turned his attention to the other Captain’s table. Soon, he confirmed it wasn’t Ferox Creon. Moments later, at the table closest to the end of the counter, the Legionary heard someone address Captain Creon.
With his targets identified, Alerio pondered his tactics. Both were surrounded by loyal crewmen. They sat on opposite sides of the great room divided by distance and a third crew. Silenus near the entrance and Creon closer to the courtyard doorway. Unless there was a distraction, Alerio couldn’t simply stroll over and slit Silenus’ throat. Then cross through the third ship’s crew, push into Creon’s crew, cut their Captain’s neck and walk out of the Pirate’s Pride. As he was thinking about starting a fire to create a distraction, an oarsman climbed onto a table and whistled for everyone’s attention.
“And it’s, stroke lads, stroke!” he announced when it quieted down.
“Did you say? And it’s, stroke lads, stroke!” challenged a sailor from across the room.
“Yes, I did. You untalented carp,” the rower on the table replied.
The sailor climbed onto his table and stated, “A pelican carries a better tune than you.”
Then the rower in a basso voice called out, “And it’s, stroke lads, stroke!”
Everyone in the Pirate’s Pride joined in the singing:
Rowing our ram down their throat
They don’t know the life we lead
Never perceive our daring deeds
Taking spoils wherever we please
Honoring our fathers’ oath
Messina where the harbor waits
Safe from toils, safe to sell our spoils
Our strut is wide with pirate pride
Until next we ride the tide
Row out to sea with pirate pride
And it’s, stroke lads, stroke!
Rowing our rail under their sail
They fear and quake at our desire
Never sure if our heart’s afire
Give it up afore facing our ire
Of the Sons of Mars, we hail
Messina where the harbor waits
Safe from toils, safe to sell our spoils
Our strut is wide with pirate pride
Until next we ride the tide
Row out to sea with pirate pride
And it’s, stroke lads, stroke!
Rowing our ship from their warship
Apologies to the merchant troubled
Their sails we barely ruffled
Their sides we only snuggled
We are but sailors
Not sea thieves, not brigands, or pirates
Then it’s home to Messina
Messina where the harbor waits
Safe from toils, safe to sell our spoils
Our strut is wide with pirate pride
Until next we ride the tide
Row out to sea with pirate pride
With every crew in the pub tilting their heads back trying to out sing the other crews, Alerio reached back and placed his left hand around the hilt of the Ally of the Golden Valley dagger. It was fitting that a gift from assassins would be used to perform assassinations. He held the large mug tight in his right hand and swung the vessel in time with the singing. As if simply wandering the room, he made his way towards the front door. Then, he turned his back on Captain Silenus. As innocently as possible, he backed between Silenus’ crew.
And it’s, stroke lads, stroke!
Rowing our rail under their sail
They fear and quake at our desire
Never sure if our heart’s afire
Give it up afore facing our ire
Of the Sons of Mars, we hail
Alerio’s leg touched a chair and he drifted further back. A glance over his shoulder identified the Captain’s location. The Legionary adjusted as the singing continued.
Messina where the harbor waits
Safe from toils, safe to sell our spoils
Our strut is wide with pirate pride
Until next we ride the tide
Row out to sea with pirate pride
Captain Gallus Silenus stood an arm’s length away. With his head thrown back as he sang, his neck provided an excellent target. Alerio tightened his grip on the curved dagger and dropped the mug alongside his leg. It would be a good bludgeon to clear a path once the Captain was down. He waited for the lusty opening line.
And it’s, stroke lads, stroke!
Then, Alerio pulled the dagger…
A thick pair of arms encircled his body, trapping his arms at his sides.
“Lieutenant Sisera. What are you doing in Messina?” asked a sailor as he hoisted the Legionary off his feet. Grinning happily up at his shocked and trapped captive, the sailor spun him around. “Lieutenant Sisera. Look, everyone, it’s Lieutenant Sisera come to drink with us.”
“Do I know you?” Alerio choked out as his ribs contracted from the squeezing.
“You made me a Lieutenant,” the sailor gushed.
“I made you a Lieutenant?” breathed out Alerio as the sailor gave him a last hard hug before setting the Legionary back on his feet.
“Sure, when you took my armor and went to kick the merda out of those two Hoplite cūlus,” explained the sailor. “We switched armor and weapons and you called me Lieutenant. Then ordered me to mount your horse and ride to Captain Nereus. The mentula!”
The singing had stopped and everyone in the pub had their eyes on the odd reunion.
‘Something feels off,’ thought Alerio as he guided the dagger back into the sheath. Then out loud, he asked, “Why did you call Captain Nereus a mentula?”
“Take your pick,” the
sailor spit out. “He and Admiral Hanno must be dēfutūta from all the time they spend together. Or maybe it’s the men locked away under guard from questioning Hanno’s orders. All while our useless Captain makes excuses for the Qart Hadasht peacock.”
Alerio scanned the rowers within earshot. To a man, they nodded agreement at the sailor’s description. Turning to Gallus Silenus, he questioned.
“Captain, why does Crius Nereus want you dead?” Alerio inquired.
Before Silenus could reply, the front door banged open. Captain Milon Frigian jumped over the threshold and slammed the door behind him.
“Creon! Get out of here,” Frigian shouted. “There are twenty Qart Hadasht soldiers heading this way.”
Captain Frigian noticed Silenus and Alerio.
“Lieutenant Sisera? What are you doing here?” then, Frigian shifted to Silenus and suggested. “Gallus, if I were you, I’d make a hasty retreat as well.”
“Captain Frigian. I really need to speak with you,” Alerio said. “But here is not the place. For reasons I don’t have time to explain, I also need to get out of here before the soldiers arrive.”
Frigian looked at Silenus and cocked his head to the side.
“Bring Lieutenant Sisera,” Silenus ordered the sailor who had hugged the Legionary.
“Drop him at Adiona’s Temple,” Frigian instructed. “I’ll catch up after suffering the indignity of bowing to the Empire.”
The sailor shoved Alerio past a line of rowers. They moved to the doorway leading to the courtyard. Three oarsmen stood on the shoulders of six more who had linked arms to create a stable base.
“Raise your arms Lieutenant,” the sailor said as he gripped Alerio’s elbows and lifted them to the Legionary’s ears. “Up you go.”
Alerio’s wrists were grabbed and he was lifted from the floor. When his head came level with the roof top, the center man clutched his chest and Alerio was vaulted over the man’s head. He landed hard on the clay roof tiles.
“This way,” ordered Gallus Silenus. “And watch your step.”
Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 2 Page 31