Clay Legionary (Clay Warrior Stories Book 1)

by J. Clifton Slater

  “If you are done trying to kill people,” the Corporal said as he stood and offered a hand to help the boy up. “The Medics need to stitch you up and I have an appointment with an angry bookie.”

  As Alerio stumbled into the arms a waiting Medic, three of Corporal Gratian’s Century closed in protectively around them.

  Fifteen more of the Corporal’s Legionnaires were holding discussions with the fighters who’d injured the amateurs to cover for the attempted assassination. None of the fighters would be competing again until their bones mended.

  One of the bookies decided he’d had enough action for one day. Just as he finished packing up his money chest, four Legionaries and a Centurion marched up to his booth.

  “Your gambling license requires you to stay open for the entire competition,” the Officer informed the bookie.

  “I have a family emergency back in the city,” the sweating and nervous man explained.

  “I understand,” the Officer replied. “Let me have a look at your slate to be sure you’ve cleared all your debts and you can be on your way.”

  Hesitantly, the man handed over a scroll. All the bets from the day were marked paid or profit. There was only one wager still open.

  “Excuse me sir,” Corporal Gratian said interrupting the Centurion. “I’m holding a chit for Recruit Sisera for a share of all bets placed against him. Also, I have a betting slip from this merchant.”

  The bookie plopped down on his seat and began to slowly unstrap his money chest.

  Chapter 23 - Flight from the Transfer Post

  Corporal Gratian found Alerio and the three escorts sitting down to eat in the mess hall.

  “Recruit Sisera. I believe it’s unwise for you to stay here any longer,” he said. “If I were you, I’d rent four horses and pay these Legionaries to show you the way to the docks.”

  “With what coin?” Alerio asked pointing to the small pouch attached to his belt.

  Corporal Gratian pulled out a small pouch and a large pouch. He dropped them on the table.

  “A lot of people bet against you,” Gratian said pushing the large one towards Alerio. He next pushed the small one over saying. “And you and I have a twenty-five percent agreement; this is your share.”

  As darkness fell, four riders left the Legion Transfer Post heading East around the Capital. They were armored and carried a compete load of javelins. No one interfered with them.

  Chapter 24 - The Docks at the Capital

  At a gate in the wall, a City Guard questioned them about the competition. Specify, he was interested in where Corporal Daedalus had placed. Alerio remained silent as one of the Legionaries explained they had been on patrol, and sadly, had missed the contest.

  Alerio and his three escorts were passed through the city gate by a disappointed guard. They went from the night with only a starlit sky for light to streets and building identifiable in spots of lantern light. Dark, long warehouse buildings bracketed the docks and piers of the harbor.

  His escorts rode by the harbor and at a dark small building, they dismounted. Pulling out bed rolls, they settled in for the night outside the building’s front door.

  “Good morning Sergeant,” the last man on guard duty said loudly enough to waken Alerio and the other two Legionaries.

  “You’re one of Corporal Gratian’s men,” the NCO stated.

  “We’re on assignment for the Corporal,” the Legionary replied and explained. “We had a little trouble at the Transfer Post during the sword competition. Gratian wanted the Recruit separated from any fallout. He sent us to be sure Recruit Sisera got off okay.”

  “Trouble? Anything I should know about?” asked the NCO.

  “No Sergeant,” another of the Legionaries reported as he walked over from his bedroll. He pulled a pouch from his belt and handed it to the Sergeant. “Corporal Gratian appreciates your discretion in the matter of the Recruit and asked if you could stash him on a ship until it sails.”

  The NCO looked down at the pouch and smiled. He had dealings with the Corporal before and every time he walked away with a few extra coin and no repercussions. He couldn’t see this time being any different.

  “My Lance Corporal of transit will be along later,” the NCO said as he opened the office door. “So, I’ll handle this myself.”

  Recruit Sisera was escorted to the ramp of the Republic warship by the three Legionaries. Once he was safely aboard and as directed, hidden below deck, the escorts relaxed. Although, they didn’t leave the dock area.

  They sat on the dock for two days until the ship hoisted anchor, cast off their lines, and rowed to mid channel. The last time they looked the warship was heading down the river for open water. Only then did they mount up for the trip back to the Transfer Post.

  Corporal Gratian had been implicit in his instructions. The Recruit was to be watched until the ship sailed. If anything happened to him, their days would be spent digging latrines. Promotion papers, and transfer requests would be perpetually lost. On the other hand, if the ship sailed and the Recruit was alive and on board, they’d receive a nice bonus and be excused from latrine duty for a year.

  Chapter 25 - Warship Sailing Towards the Massena Straits

  Alerio was bunked in the Legion quarters on the ship. Due to lack of space, the slung beds occupied spaces between shields, javelins, bows and the Marines’ gladii. To get around the space, he had to navigate barrels of arrows. The only escape from the claustrophobic and cluttered space was the practice deck.

  On the second day of the voyage, out of boredom, Alerio carried a gladius to the deck. With his left arm, he went through the sword drills. A Sergeant wandered over.

  “You can’t use your left hand in a shield wall,” he stated. “It’ll interfere with the man on your left.”

  “I don’t have much choice, Sergeant,” Alerio replied. He set the gladius down and pulled aside the sleeve of his tunic.

  Two distinct lines of stitches ran down his deltoid muscle. The one to the front was a little longer than the rear line.

  “Those are wounds from a gladius,” the NCO declared. “Entrance and exit wounds. Care to explain how you got them?”

  “Sword competition that got out of hand,” replied Alerio letting the fabric fall.

  “No dueling on my ship,” the Sergeant warned. “But I’ve got four men who need to improve their sword work. This ship doesn’t have a weapon’s training officer and I’m too busy. Care to work with them?”

  “Sergeant, I’m at your service,” Alerio said.

  The four Legionaries were from the Southwestern edge of the Republic where slings were preferred over swords. While they could knock down a bird in full flight with a stone, they had only managed to master the rudiments of the gladius.

  Alerio began by having them spar. Right away he saw their problem. As slingers, they thought in speed, trajectory and angles. Translated to a blade, it made the Legionaries slow as they processed each swing. In short, they were focused on where the blade was going rather than how the blade traveled. He stopped the sparing.

  Looking around the deck, he spotted long poles used to shove off attacking vessels. He gave each of the men one of the fifteen-foot poles and instructed them to hold it upright in one hand.

  “Now, your first drill, go,” he said. “Focus on your hand movement. Two strikes and one backhand just like you learned in training.”

  Of course they could only manage to move their wrist slightly or the pole would tip over and fall to the deck. Three did and Alerio had them pick up the poles and resume the practice.

  The Sergeant climbed onto the deck and watched for a few minutes.

  “Recruit Sisera. The Legion doesn’t have much use for circus balancing acts,” the NCO advised.

  “Look at their hands, Sergeant,” Alerio suggested. “Their doing the first drill.”

  “It doesn’t look like the first drill,” the NCO stated. Before he could say anything else, a Private came rushing up, and spoke to the Sergeant. �
��Duty calls. Carry on,” the NCO ordered as he left the training deck.

  Alerio went from one pole balancer to the other. To each man he showed where the balance point for a gladius would be compared to the tall pole. After an hour, the four left to do their shipboard duties.

  The next day, the four reported for training and again he had them run the tiny movement drill with the long poles. After a half hour, he had them put the poles away.

  “Pull your gladii and hold them upright,” Alerio instructed. “Now, do the small movements and feel the balance point on the blade.”

  From the tall unwieldly poles to the short gladii, they began to get a sense of where the power needed to be applied for the weapon to be useful. When he paired them up to spar, they swung with authority. The center of their blades connecting at the sweet spot. Their swings solid and delivered with confidence.

  The Sergeant climbed the ladder and stopped before coming all the way to the deck. He stood there astonished at the loud and rhythmic clinging as blades met, parried and swung back to collide again in a steady cadence. His Legionaries were sweat soaked and grinning as they attacked each other.

  “Time,” Alerio announced when the ship’s bell sounded the end of watch. “Dismissed.”

  The Sergeant climbed onto the deck and stepped out of the way as the four excited Legionaries descended the ladder.

  “Recruit Sisera. That’s one of the best and most efficient training lessons I’ve ever seen. Why aren’t you a Centurion?” inquired the NCO.

  “Sergeant. I barely know how I ended up in the Legion,” admitted Alerio. “Let alone how I would become an Officer.”

  “Money mostly. Enough personal wealth to outfit a Century,” the Sergeant explained. “Or, if you have a patron with lots of money.”

  “I don’t have either,” Alerio said. “So I’m a simple Legionary.”

  “Not yet Recruit Sisera, you still need to complete the training,” the NCO said as he walked to the ladder. “But I don’t think you’ll have a problem with it.”

  The weather changed as the ship sailed South and once through the straits of Messina tracked Northward. From the mild fall in the center of the Republic, the further South they traveled, the hotter each day became. Soon the men were sweating day and night from the humidity.

  Ten days after leaving the Capital on a mild morning, the warship rowed into the broad harbor of Crotone. Alerio got his first look at the shoreline of the Eastern part of the Republic.

  Chapter 26 - Main Harbor of the Eastern Providences

  The buildings were white, blindingly so in the mid-morning light. Alerio blinked as he walked down the ramp. Other than crews loading supplies and unloading cargo, the dock was empty of military personnel. He dodged between porters pulling carts and made his way to a broad boulevard facing the harbor.

  Up close the buildings were smooth with high arched windows. Civilians in loose robes hustled by and Alerio had to step to the side to avoid colliding with them. He studied the entrances of the buildings up and down the wide walkway. On his third pass, he saw a Legion flag hanging limp in the hot, humid air. He pushed his way into the moving mass of people and angled for the flag.

  “Recruit Sisera reporting in, Lance Corporal,” he said to the Legionary sitting behind a table. He followed up the greeting by handing over his travel orders.

  The Legionary opened the parchment and studied it.

  “There’s a supply train leaving for the fort this afternoon,” he said. “You can catch it if you hurry. Behind this building is a road, follow it to the fountain. Turn left there and look for the Legion Post.”

  “Thank you Lance Corporal,” Alerio said as he shouldered his few personal items. The armor and gladius he’d surrendered at the dock before leaving the Capital. What he did carry came from purchases made while on the ship.

  Alerio jogged out of the office, around the building, and by the time he started down the road he was covered in sweat. An hour of forced marching later he located the fountain, it was dry. He took the left hand road and picked up his pace. The road wasn’t a straight Republic build. It wandered back and forth as if it were built by following a drunken goat.

  Two hours later, the road began to solidify into a gentle curve. It started to lead back towards the harbor town. An hour later, Alerio spied a Legion flag and the tops of tents. By the time he reached the Legion Post he was almost back to the harbor.

  “Recruit Sisera reporting in,” he said to the guard at the entrance.

  The Private looked at him, at the long road he came down, and back at Alerio.

  “Where did you come from?” the guard asked.

  “The harbor,” Alerio replied.

  The guard lifted an arm and pointed between two buildings. Alerio saw a section of the harbor side boulevard and across the harbor the warship he took from the Capital. Apparently, the Lance Corporal had given him directions for the long way around.

  Chapter 27 - The Harbor Transfer Post

  “Welcome to the Eastern Legion Recruit Sisera,” the Sergeant said looking up from where he sat.

  The NCO laid the parchment on his desk and studied the big farm boy. He was dressed in bleached out woolen pants and a pullover. Washing clothes in ocean water took out the color and most recruits arrived after a sea voyage looking the same. Their clothing bleached out and their bodies out of shape.

  Not being a Legionary and having no assigned duties, many recruits arrived weak from lack of activity. His training NCOs called it Civilian Malaise and they had a cure for it. The farm boy appeared to have trained every day as would any active duty Legionary.

  “What’s your story Sisera?” the Sergeant asked.

  “My father has a farm in the Western Provence, Sir,” Alerio explained. “I have two sisters and…”

  “Shut up Recruit,” the NCO ordered “The proper response is I want to be a Legionary.”

  “I want to be a Legionary, sir,” Alerio responded.

  “Go find the supply tent and have them issue you recruit equipment,” the NCO ordered. “Dismissed.”

  The Sergeant was pleasantly surprised when the farm boy slammed his right fist into his chest. He returned the salute and waved the boy away. Almost no recruits knew about saluting. He’d keep an eye on this one he thought. But a Legionary pushed into his tent with a stack of papers and he promptly forgot about the Recruit.

  Alerio wandered around the straight roads between the perfectly aligned tents. As the Transfer Post for the Eastern Legion, all shipped in supplies, transferring Legionnaires and Recruits, passed through here. Command tents were behind the Sergeant’s and closer to the center of the compound. Further out, near the earthen walls, sat the larger supply tents. He took a walkway toward one of them.

  “Recruit Sisera, reporting for my recruit equipment,” Alerio said as he stepped out of the sun and into the shade of a supply tent.

  A Private looked over from where he was stacking bundles of wrapped supplies.

  “Four tents over,” he said pointing to his right.

  Alerio left the tent. As he walked, he peered into the open tents on either side of the road. In each, men were sorting and stacking items into separate piles. Some were handling bundles, others barrels, and in other tents, they rolled amphorae into groupings.

  “Is this the right supply tent?” Alerio asked as he stepped into the indicated tent.

  “These are all supply tents,” a Legionary replied waving an arm to indicate their surroundings. He had a scroll in his other hand and half of the long document dangled all the way to the hard packed sand floor.

  Remembering himself, Alerio said, “Recruit Sisera reporting for my recruit equipment.”

  “Oh those supplies,” the Legionary said then over his shoulder shouted. “Corporal. You have a recruit in need of gear.”

  The Legionary went back to counting bundles and checking them against the scroll. An arm appeared between rows of stacked goods and motioned to Alerio.

  “
Recruit, come back here,” a voice ordered.

  Alerio made his way deeper into the tent and noticed the temperature rise the further back in he traveled. A Corporal stood holding a tightly wrapped bundle of gear. The bundle was dropped to the ground and the NCO reached onto a shelf and pulled down a backpack. It was thrust into Alerio’s arms.

  “Put this on Recruit,” the Corporal ordered.

  Once Alerio had adjusted the pack he felt items being placed in it. The first three items hit the bottom of the pack and jarred his shoulders. Other items didn’t weight nearly as much.

  “Pick up your gear and report to the armory,” the Corporal said as he held out a scroll. “You are responsible for the equipment. Every item. Lose any item and you will be charged. Break an item and you will be charged a replacement fee. Sign or make your mark here.”

  “But Corporal, I haven’t inventoried the gear,” Alerio explained.

  The NCO stood in the hot humid interior of the tent glaring at the recruit. The tension lasted until Alerio signed the receipt and struggled out of the tent.

  The backpack straps cut into his shoulders and the bundle in his arms was so large, he had to lean around it to see where he was going. Where he ended up was halfway around the compound at the armory.

  Unlike the rest of the Post, part of the Armory was a block walled building with a goat skin roof. Not so much a roof, the cover was there just to block the sun and allow for air flow. Alerio stepped into the shade of the building and was hit by a wave of hot air.

  To the rear of the building, a forge was flaring as blacksmiths pounded on glowing lengths of metal. One of the muscular men pointed to a side doorway with his hammer. Alerio nodded in understanding and stepped to the door.

  The metalworker laughed. The Recruit had to turn sideways to squeeze his body and, the equipment he carried, through the opening.

  There was a slight drop in temperature in the tent attached to the building. Just slightly, it seemed to Alerio as he tugged with the unbalanced load across the tent.