Neptune's Fury

by J. Clifton Slater

  “Tribune Subausterus never mentioned Roman citizenship,” Nardi uttered suspiciously. “How can you?”

  “The staff officer was buying a shipyard,” Alerio responded. “I’m proposing that we build one warship to prove our capacity. Let me ask you. When the Republic depends on one administrator to manage the building of their warships, how important is that man?”

  “You would think, important enough to make him a citizen. And to shower him with gold,” Nardi ventured. Then off handedly, he asked. “What part of what you said did I miss?”

  Alerio hesitated while thinking. He had one thing in mind but changed it.

  “That I kill people,” Alerio finally answered. He stood and saluted the administrator. “I’ll expect five hundred men in Stifone over the next few days. We have a lot of work to do.”

  But Nardi Cocceia simply waved the Legion officer away. He was lost in the fantasy of being an important and wealthy citizen of the Republic. The two scribes rushed in when Sergeant Florian opened the door. The administrator ignored them.

  Pannacci’s eyes followed the Legionaries as they walked from the office. If hate was arrows, both would be dead before taking another step. The spearman wasn’t a brave man but he had a knack for influencing other men, and a streak of pride. A nasty combination of traits that screamed for revenge.

  ***

  Once through the doorway, Alerio ordered, “Draw.”

  Both Legionaries jerked their gladii from the sheaths. Holding them against their thighs where the blades were naked and visible, Centurion Sisera and Optio Florian marched directly to the ornate doors. On either side of the room, Umbria warriors followed them with hate filled glares and spear tips. More waited on the stairs outside. But, like the ones inside, they didn’t interfere with the Legionaries’ progress.

  Streets from the government building, Alerio put away his gladius and signaled for Florian to do the same.

  “Centurion Sisera, my head is spinning and, while I collect my thoughts, can you answer a question?”

  “What is it, Optio?” Alerio inquired.

  “I know you can’t call out a Legion but, can you really make the administrator a citizen?”

  “No. But I never said I would. Nardi Cocceia brought it up and I merely advised him of the benefits of being a citizen of the Republic,” Alerio informed the NCO. “What made him susceptible was the fear of dying and the safety and benefits of being a citizen.”

  “You hesitated when you challenged him to remember what you said,” Florian remarked. “What were you going to say?”

  “Optio, I was faking the entire thing,” Alerio confessed. “But at the end, I settled on the infantry slogan. Win at all cost. We began with violence. I thought it fitting to end with a threat of more. It worked out better than if I said have faith in my ability to get the warship built.”

  “My first Optio always said, those who dare carve their own path,” Florian offered. “I think fear of you overrode Nardi Cocceia’s greed.”

  “Maybe faith would have been closer to the truth.”

  ***

  They left the streets and densely packed yards and walls behind. Dropping down the many levels, they eventually reached the cultivated fields. After a steady hike, the Legionaries arrived at the turn off for the Roscini farm. A quarter of a mile along the path, the farmer and his three sons stopped flipping over shovels of soil, leaned on the handles, and watched the armored men approach.

  “We thought you’d spend the night in luxury,” the farmer teased. Then he spit into the dirt and questioned. “Couldn’t reach an agreement with the old phony? I guess we can make room for you tonight.”

  “Master Roscini, I must say your attitude towards Administrator Nardi Cocceia is rather harsh,” Alerio suggested. “But rest assured, it’s not the reason for denying your offer of hospitality. Let’s just say, we reached an accord and it’s advisable for us to leave right away.”

  “You reached an agreement but aren’t staying for a feast?” Roscini inquired. “That’s not Nardi’s style. What’s going on, Centurion?”

  “Your farm is too close to Amelia,” Alerio remarked hoping to skip a long explanation so he could get on the road. “Sometime after dark, over a hundred inebriated and outraged Umbria warriors will come looking for Optio Florian and me.”

  “How can you negotiate a successful deal yet bring the ire of our military down on you?”

  “It’s a gift from the God Sors,” Alerio answered. “Purely luck.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Florian interjected. “I was there and would suggest the Goddess Discordia was deeply involved.”

  “Growing success from chaos is what farmers do,” Roscini observed.

  “As do Legion officers,” Florian added. “It’s getting late, sir, we should be going.”

  “Tite will help you load the mules,” Roscini stated. “He is already packed.”

  “Packed for what?” Alerio asked.

  “Tite is coming with us,” Florian replied. “It’s the other half of the payment for storing our animals and gear.”

  “What are you going to do with a farm boy?” Alerio inquired.

  “There’s only Tesserarius Humi and I for sentry duty,” Sergeant Florian informed Alerio. “Until now, we’ve been enough. But you’ll need a militia force to guard the equipment and keep order in the camp. Tite Roscini is going to be a Lieutenant in the Sisera Detachment at Stifone.”

  “Sisera Detachment?”

  “Yes, sir. We don’t have a Legion, we don’t have a staff officer, but we sure in Hades have an infantry officer who is in command.”

  “Lieutenant Roscini reporting for orders, Centurion,” Tite announced.

  “He gets paid, doesn’t he,” the farmer inquired.

  Alerio looked at the Sergeant for the answer.

  “Yes, sir. We have funds for pay purposes,” Florian informed the farmer and the officer. “Now we really need to vacate the area.”

  “Lieutenant Roscini, load us up,” Alerio instructed. “Let’s get Sisera Detachment on the march.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 9 - Rock and Limbs

  Two Legionaries and a young man accustomed to working in the fields all day had no problem hiking throughout the night. Except for a break while waiting for moonrise, they force marched to the north bank of the Nera river. Long before sunrise, they waded across, climbed to Stifone, unloaded the mules, and curled up in blankets. That night, the insulted Umbria warriors never got close to the Legion officer.

  When most of the residents of Stifone threw off their covers to begin their day, Alerio Sisera stood at the bend in the river a half mile downstream from the village. Scanning the river as it flowed away and wrapped around the outcrop of land, he began to sketch. After noting the height of the bank on a piece of parchment, he stepped up and paced off where the flatland reached the hills that climbed out of the river valley. High above, a terrace was visible.

  Moving into the trees, he paced off distances and noted features. Slowly, the Legion officer filled in details on the map as if planning an assault. Nine hundred feet from where he entered the thin forest, Alerio emerged on the river bank to see the Nera flow back around the knob of land.

  “You aren’t what I expected,” a voice said from behind Alerio.

  Pejus Monilis stepped from between the trees and walked up to stand beside the Legion officer.

  “What did you expect?” Alerio inquired.

  “A political appointee looking to make a name for himself,” the engineer replied.

  “What makes you think I’m not?”

  “I spoke with Optio Florian this morning,” Pejus stated. “Tribune Subausterus gave you a letter of introduction. You didn’t use it. Instead, you started a war, negotiated a deal, and declared peace.”

  “That sounds political to me,” Alerio offered.

  “That my, young Centurion, is far from diplomatic,” Engineer Monilis observed. “It isn’t what I would expect from a Leg
ion staff officer on a mission.”

  “Heavy infantry,” Alerio corrected. “Over the next few days, a work force will arrive. I need us to build a warship, fast. Let’s just say, we need to finish the first one before the administrator realizes the truth.”

  “And what is the truth?” questioned the engineer.

  “That Nardi Cocceia is paying for a warship and may never get reimbursed in coins or in status.”

  “So, you didn’t get peace. You just delayed the first battle of the war,” Pejus suggested. He pointed to the map and instructed. “Show me what you have there.”

  “Tell me the minimum of what you and the master ship builder need,” Alerio requested while handing the map to the engineer. “Once this operation starts, like a Century in combat, there will be no rest or retreat.”

  “Until you declare victory?” Pejus Monilis inquired.

  “No, Master Engineer, not me,” Alerio responded while stomping a foot on the thin layer of soil covering the rock of the river bank. “Until Fleet Praetor Sudoris accepts the product of our labors. Oh, and authorizes funds to expand the shipyard and pay for more warships.”

  “Expand the shipyard?”

  “That’s correct. For the first one, we are working short and fast,” Alerio informed him. With the side of his boot, he scraped away the dirt to expose the underlaying granite. “Unfortunately, here the Goddess Tellus’ earth is rock. It’s a hard as this campaign.”

  “Then within Tellus’ rock, we will build a Republic warship,” the engineer promised. “And may Pluto bless us.”

  “Because all things fall back into the earth,” Alerio recited a saying about the god who watches over the riches of the earth. “and also arise from inside the earth.”

  “That’s close, but I plan on removing rock not mining ore,” Pejus advised. “In order to allow Neptune’s domain to flow.”

  ***

  It wasn’t the next day or the day after when the first group of workers crossed the Nera and climbed to Stifone. Centurion Sisera didn’t see them. He was in a building, arguing the need for sleeping quarters for the work force.

  “We’ll need to clear the ground up slope at this level area,” Alerio suggested while running his fingers across a ridge on the map. “We’ll create a terrace for their quarters. Between that soil and the dirt from the slope, we’ll have plenty to level the boat building area.”

  “Which is more important, Centurion Sisera?” questioned Pejus Monilis. “The housing level, the width of the work area, or the boat trench?”

  “The boat channel,” Cata Pous insisted. “I need it to construct the warship quickly. Afterward, we’ll flood the channel and float the completed ship right out the other side.”

  “Your productivity will suffer if you don’t take care of your work force,” Alerio insisted. “The housing area is just as important.”

  “I can see a Legion officer wanting to think about the men,” Pejus Monilis added. “But from what I know of manufacturing sites, you’ll need a flat expanse on either side of the canal for the process.”

  The officer, the boat builder, and the engineer pointed to Alerio’s map and insisted which area they felt needed to be constructed first. Although the men pressed their points, it was a friendly competition. They had a day or two before setting the schedule.

  “Sir, there are Umbrians approaching,” Corporal Humi informed them when he stepped into the building.

  Cata Pous, the Boat Builder, glanced at Pejus Monilis, and the engineer in turn gazed at Centurion Sisera.

  “Are they armed?” Alerio asked the Corporal while ignoring the craftsmen.

  “No sir. They’re toting bags and carrying tools,” the Tesserarius responded.

  “Then let’s go see who is the first to answer Nardi Cocceia’s call,” Alerio suggested. “Humi. You and Florian grab bows and take positions behind me. I don’t know about the farmer.”

  “Tite says he’s a hunter,” the NCO replied.

  “Arm him, but make sure he doesn’t shoot me in the back,” Alerio advised as he crossed to the threshold.

  Outside, the Legion officer blinked against the afternoon sun before peering down to the steps. From the river bank, a barrel-chested man walked ahead of fifty others carrying identical leather bags. Some had long handled hammers resting on their shoulders while others had sharp edged pickaxes.

  “Thoughts, Master Monilis?” Alerio asked the engineer.

  “Those are miners,” Pejus replied.

  The big man reached Alerio, stopped and inhaled, expanding his chest even further.

  “Mezzasoma, master rock miner,” he announced. “Who is in charge?”

  Cata Pous, the boat builder, started to point at Alerio. Before he could speak, Centurion Sisera placed a hand on Pejus’ arms and pulled the engineer to the front.

  “Master Monilis is our engineer,” Alerio offered.

  “You have us for three days, then we have to get back to our mine,” Mezzasoma warned. “Make them count.”

  “Let’s go look at the construction site,” Pejus suggested. He turned to Alerio and assured the Legion officer. “Miners are exactly what I need and I will make the days count.”

  Monilis and Mezzasoma took the steps downward and the miners followed.

  “What do you need, Master Pous?” Alerio inquired.

  “Warships are made of wood,” Cata remarked. “I need carpenters and woodsmen. But right now, I need to go supervise the miners. Especially when they clear young fir trees.”

  “Why the fir trees?” Alerio inquired.

  “Because Centurion Sisera, each trunk of those young trees is an oar,” Cata Pous replied.

  The boat builder fell in line behind the miners leaving Alerio standing alone on the terrace. Lifting an arm, the Legion officer waved it over his head.

  “Stand down,” he called out.

  “Standing down,” Optio Florian reported. “Corporal Humi and Lieutenant Roscini stand down.”

  The three loosened their bow strings, slipped their arrows into pouches, and took ladders from the roofs to their officer’s level. They moved to stand in front of him.

  “If the miners can get to Stifone that fast,” Alerio reflected. “their soldiers can be here just as quickly.”

  “We’ll maintain a guard overnight, sir,” Florian explained. “We may be few but, we won’t get caught unaware.”

  “That’s all I can ask,” Alerio acknowledged. He spun, walked through the doorway and into the building. There had to be a compromise, he pondered the argument of what was most important on the construction site. Then he remembered the boat builder’s comment about constructing warships quickly.

  ***

  Trees fell and the Greek boat builder rushed from downed trunk to downed trunk. At each, he directed the miners to haul the logs to specific stacks.

  “Are you finding your fir trees?” Alerio inquired when he caught up with Cata Pous.

  “Some, but we’ll need more to create one hundred and eighty oars for a quinquereme,” Cata proclaimed. “The pine and cedar will make excellent rowing seats and internal struts. But we’ll need a lot more of them as well.”

  “What about the frame?” Alerio questioned.

  “There’s no oak here. Wood for the hull and keel will come from deeper in the mountains,” Cata observed.

  “Tell me the minimum area you need to build our warship.”

  “The channel must be over one hundred and forty-eight feet long to fit the length. With a draft of ten feet, the channel needs to be at least that deep to float the finished ship. And at twenty-four feet wide, we’ll need double that width to give us space for assembly.”

  “What if you built a trireme?” Alerio inquired.

  “I thought the Republic wanted warships,” Cata Pous complained. “A trireme is good for chasing and sinking pirates. But, if your senate wants to do battle with the Qart Hadasht Navy, they’ll need quinqueremes. Ships that can do more than ram and carry dispatches. Of course
, a quinquereme can ram but, the ‘five’ is a stable platform for bolt throwers and archers. And it has room for one hundred and thirty Hoplites.”

  “Legionaries,” Alerio corrected. “You meant a quinquereme can carry one hundred and thirty Legionaries.”

  “Whatever Centurion. A heavy infantryman is a heavy infantryman,” the Greek boatwright stated. “I’m a builder not a military man.”

  “That’s obvious. What are the requirements to build a trireme?”

  “It can only haul ten Legionaries, in good weather. And support maybe four archers,” Cata Pous sneered. “The trireme is barely a warship.”

  “Alright, how about a Legion patrol boat?”

  “Why not a fishing boat?” shot back Cata.

  “Or a sturdy raft?” Alerio barked. “Lash a few tree trunks together and I’ll row it to Ostia. Maybe I can convince Fleet Praetor Sudoris to support Stifone based on the quality of the wood and not the shape.”

  Cata pointed to a pair of miners who stood over a fallen tree.

  “You two, place it with the other fir trees,” he instructed. Then he dropped his eyes to the ground and mumbled. “Five feet.”

  “Five what?” Alerio questioned.

  “The draft on a trireme is five feet,” the Greek answered. “We only need a five-foot-deep channel for the one hundred and thirty feet of ship. The width is about the same because the ‘three’ is twenty feet wide.”

  “Five feet less rock to dig,” Alerio uttered. “Where is Master Monilis.”

  “He’s up on the slope with the rock miner boss,” Cata Pous told him. Then he added. “I suppose I am going to build a trireme.”

  “We, Master Pous, we are going to build a trireme,” Alerio corrected.

  He walked away while Cata ran to inspect another fallen tree.

  At the bottom of the hill, Alerio found a tall pine tree pressed into the slope. The limbs on the front and back had been trimmed away leaving branches on two sides to act as rungs. Alerio scurried up the natural ladder to find Mezzasoma, the rock miner, and Pejus Monilis standing on the edge of the ledge.