Neptune's Fury

by J. Clifton Slater

  “Subausterus is leaving? And you’re in charge?” the Greek questioned.

  “And the project?” the Latian inquired. “We can move forward?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Alerio admitted. “I don’t know what the project is.”

  But neither man was listening. Instead of asking specifics, they launched questions at Alerio.

  “And you’ll deal with Nardi Cocceia?” the Greek asked. “And…”

  “Hold on, both of you. The reason I’m here talking,” Alerio corrected. “is I don’t know about the project. Or even, what I’m doing here.”

  The Latian raise both hands over his head, looked up and announced, “Sicut decora, just lovely. The Senate sends us a clueless officer.”

  “Then, how can you be in charge?” the Greek questioned.

  “In a melee battle, the first order for a Legionary is to find another and get shoulder to shoulder with him. Then, the two find another and do the same. In those simple moves, a Legion combat line can re-form and a Century can take back control of a fight,” Alerio explained. “This is me seeking a shoulder. Let’s start with names.”

  The Greek and Latian frowned trying to decipher the analogy. Finally, the Greek jumped up.

  “You are equating our trials to an infantry situation,” he offered. “Hoplites, strategies, and campaigns.”

  “Pretty close. Do you have a name?”

  “I am Cata Pous. A builder of warships,” the Greek bragged.

  “Warships?” Alerio ventured. “The ocean is over a hundred miles from here.”

  “And I am Pejus Monilis. An engineer and surveyor,” the Latian announced. “The ocean may be far but the raw materials for building a ship of war are all around you.”

  “I’ve spent a little time on triremes,” Alerio remarked. “Beyond the wood and rope, I imagine you’d need space to build one. And the Nara has steep banks.”

  “But you have me,” Pejus Monilis boasted. “An exceptional engineer and surveyor. And I have a daring plan to overcome the terrain. Producat illum efficere.”

  “Bring what on?” Alerio asked.

  “The challenge, Centurion Sisera,” Cata Pous commented. “if you can get Nardi Cocceia to agree.”

  “I thought Tribune Subausterus was the hold up?”

  “He is only the first step. Next is Nardi, the head of the Cocceia family in this area,” Pejus Monilis advised. “We’ll need workmen. Lots of labor to turn Stifone into a naval shipyard.”

  “And Nardi controls the workmen,” Cata Pous added. “and the woodlands.”

  “All right, where do I find him?” questioned Alerio. He stood as if ready to race out of the door and attack the next obstacle.

  “Hold on there, Legionary,” Pejus Monilis suggested. “A least get an idea of the scope of this campaign before you go charging into battle.”

  “Fine. Where do we start?”

  Cata and Pejus closed their eyes and held their breaths. Either both were visualizing something or praying. Eventually, they opened their eyes, exhaled, and the Latian stood.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Pejus urged while heading for the doorway.

  Chapter 5 - Fluid’s Flow and Magic

  The three men took the steps down to the river bank, dropped off the grassy slope and landed on the gravel sandbar. Alerio peered up at the heavy forest growing on the surrounding mountains. There was no denying the abundance of wood for warships or the lack of flatland for assembling them.

  “I can’t imagine building on this,” Alerio pointed out while adding a stomp to his pace. The pebbles under his foot sank and water filled the depression. “Although I guess given enough labor, we could terrace the land above the river bank.”

  Neither Cata Pous or Pejus Monilis offered a reply. They continued to hike the sandbar until they reached the trail were Alerio, his horse, and his mule had left the hills. Expecting to take the path up, he angled off the gravel. The engineer and ship builder kept walking.

  ***

  Branches hung down to the top of the water hiding the tree trunks and land at the river’s edge.

  “You weren’t wrong about terracing,” Pejus Monilis stated. He pushed aside a low hanging branch, snapped off a dead twig, and used his heel to kick out a trench three feet long. “At this bend in the Nera, soil has built up over rock. We clear the trees and brush and cut the hill back to broaden and level the land. There’s all the terracing you’ll need to do. It’ll give us a thousand feet of work space.”

  “What’s with the trench?” Alerio inquired. He noticed the engineer’s foot remained in the bottom of the kicked-out ditch.

  “There’s the magic of this operation. We cut a trench and build the boats in the cut,” Pejus described. He dropped the twig and it fell into the excavated channel. “After the warship is constructed, we float it out to make room for the next build.”

  “How?” Alerio asked.

  The engineer dragged his heel back, plowing the soil away until it reached the river. Water flooded the shallow ditch and the twig floated.

  “We take advantage of the flow of fluids with a dam on either end of our channel.”

  “Just how large a ditch are we contemplating?” Alerio questioned.

  “Ten feet deep and fifty feet wide,” Cata Pous explained. “That will allow us to build anything from patrol boats to a proper quinquereme warship.”

  “If the Senate approves this site,” Pejus Monilis added.

  “If the Senate approves?” Alerio repeated. “I’m an infantryman and we like our orders plain and straight forward. So, break this project down into simple language for me.”

  “The Senate needs to build a fleet but they don’t want the Qart Hadasht to know,” Pejus Monilis, the engineer, explained. “And they can’t build near the sea because the Empire fleet will row in and destroy the shipyard.”

  “As experiments, the Fleet Praetor sent out Tribunes and teams of builders and engineers,” Cata Pous the ship builder informed Alerio. “Each charged with proving their site is capable of manufacturing warships.”

  “How do we prove this area is capable of building ships?” Alerio asked.

  “We build a quinquereme, Centurion Sisera,” Cata Pous answered. “Row it to the Capital, pass sea trials, and collects bags of gold.”

  “But first, we dig and dam the channel,” Pejus Monilis added.

  “And before that, you convince Nardi Cocceia to supply the labor and materials,” the Greek informed him. “Is that straight forward enough for a Legionary?”

  “The objective is clear. Verify Stifone as a viable boat building facility. Even if the battlefield isn’t familiar,” Alerio admitted. “I can try. How big is our bank for the building of the quinquereme?”

  “The Tribunes were selected for their wealth,” the Latian engineer advised. “According to you, our financial means will be leaving in the morning.”

  “Will he loan us the gold?”

  “We asked and he laughed at us,” Cata Pous, the ship builder, stated. “In Tribune Subausterus’ words, throwing coins at this project would be like casting leaves on the Nera. Both would never be seen again.”

  “Show me the actual site,” Alerio urged. “And, where you plan to dig this trench. Come to think of it, how long will it be?”

  “Nine hundred feet,” engineer Pejus Monilis announced. He shoved into the branches while stepping up on the low bank. As the others followed, he held the limb back and clarified. “Most of the excavation will be through rock.”

  Centurion Sisera’s stomach knotted and he realized this fight wouldn’t be won with blade skills or by issuing orders. Even if diplomacy was far from the privy of an infantry officer, he was sent to Stifone to serve. And now that he knew the mission, he would do it to the best of his abilities.

  Act 2

  Chapter 6 - The Road to Amelia

  Alerio and Subausterus had a discussion the night before in the staff officer’s quarters. At the conclusion of what could only be des
cribed as a failure for Alerio, Tribune Subausterus agreed to give the Centurion a letter of introduction to the Umbria administrator for Stifone.

  The next morning, two groups departed the village. The Tribune and his servants headed west, following the Nera, while Alerio and the Sergeant marched to the river in a northwesterly direction. Alerio didn’t feel the need to see the Tribune off.

  Centurion Sisera and Optio Florian guided their mules down the embankment and into the cold, swiftly flowing water.

  “It’s only five miles, Centurion,” Florian stammered through chattering teeth. He yanked on the line when the animal carrying his gear hesitated. “We could hike it in a morning without these four-legs-of-stubborn holding us back.”

  “Sergeant. I’ve found when a march will end in the unknown,” Alerio advised. “It’s best to be over equipped and rested. Losing a little daylight to have extra gear may be excessive but it may also prove valuable.”

  “When I made this journey with Tribune Subausterus, he brought four mules and a horse,” Florian offered. “That was over prepared.”

  “What did he accomplish?” Alerio questioned.

  The water reached their chests and the Legion NCO and infantry officer tightened their jaws against the cold water. Then the river began to recede as they crossed mid channel and splashed to the far bank.

  “As far as I could tell, sir, the only thing the Tribune achieved was looking splendid and noble on his mount when he rode into Amelia,” Florian replied. This time the mule attempted to charge passed the NCO to escape the icy mountain water. “But I have no real knowledge of their talks. I was never invited to attend his appointments with Administrator Nardi Cocceia.”

  The Optio hauled back on the line until the mule slowed and fell in behind him. He and his pack animal took a position to the rear of the Centurion and the other mule.

  “When we reach the outskirts of Amelia, we will put on our war gear,” Alerio informed the Sergeant. “And because we are heavy infantry, we will be both splendid and noble when we march into the Umbria city.”

  “Tribune Subausterus objected to Corporal Humi and I wearing our armor, helmets, and carrying shields,” Adamo Florian remarked. “He said it might insult the Umbrian’s pride.”

  “He wasn’t wrong,” Alerio commented. “Which is exactly why you will have your shield and I’ll put on my rooster. We want them to be aware that the Legion has come calling.”

  Alerio smiled a toothy grin at his description of the colored horsehair brush on his Centurion’s helmet.

  “I’m not sure, sir, if two men can project that much power.”

  “It’s not our numbers, Optio,” Alerio commented. “It’s the threat of having a Legion of heavy infantryman leveling their city.”

  “Does a Centurion have the authority to order that, sir?” Florian inquired.

  “I haven’t the slightest notion,” Alerio admitted. “I’ll probably start with a more diplomatic approach.”

  “A fine idea, sir,” the Sergeant agreed.

  ***

  Alerio and Adamo followed the river bank until they came to a saddle between knolls. On the far side, the topography changed to rolling hills dotted with farms. From the numerous stone walls, Alerio could tell the farmers worked hard at clearing and digging out rocks to prepare the soil.

  Farmers, like good commanders, planned every step of their annual campaigns. The process included selecting the ground on which to plant or fight, as the case might be. Then strategizing which crops to plant and how deep to till. It was all based-on prior campaigns and experience.

  Thinking about Tribune Subausterus’ behavior towards the Legion NCOs and not allowing them to wear armor and helmets in Amelia caused Alerio to reconsider his approach. Like a bad commander, he was about to open a new battle front by emulating a failed strategy. Taking out the introductory letter from Tribune Subausterus, Alerio crumpled it into a ball and placed the parchment in a pack with his fire starter materials. Then, he began to seriously think about how to approach the Umbria administrator.

  ***

  “Your first impression?” Alerio asked when they came up a rise and saw the city of Amelia in the distance.

  “Can’t tell much about the town from here. But the high ridge to the north and east makes for a natural defensive wall,” Florian observed. “There’s no approach from there. Legion engineers would have to make ladders to climb the terraces. That would prevent Centuries from getting caught on the steep roads while pacifying the upper levels.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Alerio commented. “Amelia would be a challenge if the Umbrians gathered to defend her.”

  “Do you think it’ll come to that, sir?” Florian inquired. “I mean war with the Umbrians?”

  The Sergeant had been disheartened under the command of Tribune Subausterus and his dismissive mannerisms. When Centurion Sisera arrived, the NCO expected to regain a sense of Legion pride. He did but Alerio Sisera lacked diplomacy and reserve. There may only be two of them but, the Centurion acted as if they had Centuries of heavy infantry at their disposal. Subsequently, the infantry officer approached the situation at Stifone and Amelia as if they were part of a military campaign. Right now, Optio Florian wasn’t sure which attitude he preferred.

  “Two of us couldn’t conduct much of a war,” Alerio replied to the question. “But our dead bodies may bring the Legion to revenge us and force the Umbria to respect the Republic. But, not to worry, there’s little chance our three gladii will start a war.”

  Sergeant Florian glanced back to see if there was a third Legionary with them. Then he stared at the back of Sisera’s head and tried to discern if the Centurion happened to be foolishly overconfident, completely insane, or just had a death wish.

  “That farm,” Alerio announced.

  They had walked by several paths leading off the dirt road. At the end of the trails were collections of buildings surrounded by green fields. The Centurion ignored the prosperous estates and indicated one where the farmer had left three fields uncultivated. Weeds grew almost to the crops in his adjacent plots.

  “Are you saving coins by going to a poor farm?” Florian commented. “I would think a successful farm would be more stable. And a better place to leave our mules and extra gear.”

  “Desperate people can’t be trusted,” Alerio responded seeming to agree with the Sergeant. Yet he continued to walk towards the compound he selected.

  “That one over there or that one,” Sergeant Florian declared while pointing to other farming estates. “All of them have an abundance of fields filled with crops.”

  “Farmers using every square foot of land aren’t necessary successful,” Alerio suggested. “The landowner ahead is confident enough in his skills that he is resting the soil in those fields.”

  “And if he is poor and can’t afford the workers or seeds to plant the bare fields?”

  “Then we’ll soon know.”

  And they did learn when three tall, broad-shouldered Umbrians came from a building and blocked their path. An older man shoved between them.

  “You don’t look like buyers,” he stated. “Best turn around and head back to the main road.”

  Alerio took off his petasos, ran a sleeve across his forehead, and smiled at the older man and the husky trio. All three resembled the man.

  “I’m an only son, myself. On my father’s farm, all of the hauling fell to me,” Alerio explained as he fingered the brim of his hat. “It wasn’t his fault, he married later in life. That didn’t help me during the harvest or birth season or the shearing period. At times, I’d have given my left testis for a brother.”

  The three youths laughed before the youngest remarked, “No you wouldn’t. If you had to deal with these two every day of your life.”

  “That’s enough,” the farmer scolded his son. He squinted at Alerio and said. “But you aren’t a farmer now, are you?”

  “No, Master Farmer. My name is Alerio Sisera and I’m a Legionary of the Repub
lic,” Alerio replied. He placed the petasos on his head and stared at the father and sons from under the hat’s brim. “I have business in Amelia with Administrator Cocceia.”

  “The city is that way,” the farmer directed with a wave of his arm.

  “But my associate and I need to appear official,” Alerio informed him. “It’s hard to look dignified leading pack animals.”

  The farmer nodded and allowed a grin to crease his weathered face.

  “Nardi Cocceia wouldn’t understand meeting with a mule handler or someone who works,” the farmer stated. “Since his mentor joined the council, he’s living in the big villa.”

  “What else can you tell me about him?” Alerio inquired. “I’m here to convince him to invest in an opportunity in Stifone.”

  “You’re an administrator yourself?”

  “No, sir. More of a boots-on-the-ground supervisor,” Alerio replied. “Think of it as being in charge of the harvest. If you had to run from one farm to another to accomplish the task.”

  “I’m Roscini. My youngest, Tite, will show you where to stow your gear and get you a meal,” the farmer informed him. “But it’ll cost you a few coins and a favor.”

  “The coins I have,” Alerio assured him before asking. “What’s the favor?”

  “We’ll talk later. Right now, go put away your stuff, wash up, and eat.”

  “Thank you, Master Roscini.”

  The farmer simply strolled away. Two of his sons followed while Tite indicated the main house with a wave of his arm.

  “What’s a Legionary?” he asked as the three moved towards the villa.

  “Professional soldiers of Rome,” Alerio answered. “But if you want to know more, Optio Florian is a Legion NCO. He’s a wealth of information.”

  Florian frowned and knotted his eyebrows. The last thing he wanted to do over a meal was play tour guide like the priests from Temples in the Capital.