Neptune's Fury

by J. Clifton Slater

  A leather pouch came from the folds of the man’s wrap, flew the distance between them, and landed at Ippazio’s feet.

  “What’s this?” the Legion squad leader questioned.

  “Your chance to help the Republic,” the man replied. “Put all the mail from Stifone in that pouch. Inside, you’ll find a note with an address in the Capital. Send the mail there.”

  “Letters from field commands are considered progress reports,” Ippazio informed the man. He nudged the leather bag away with the toe of his boot. “I will not tamper with Legion dispatches.”

  “You’ll also find several gold coins in the pouch. The coins are yours, as a reward for doing your duty.”

  “You think I’ll take a bribe to betray the Legion?” Ippazio said raising his voice.

  “Keep it down,” the man in the shadows instructed. “This is Legion staff officer business.”

  “Trouble, Lance Corporal?” the duty Legionary asked.

  “No. Remain on your post,” Ippazio ordered. “What is staff officer business?”

  “Centurion Sisera has gone rogue,” the man explained. “You saw the building sight. Who do you think is paying for all of that? The Umbrian, that’s who. And what promises has he made to get their help? And who is going to claim the warship when it’s completed?”

  “Look man, I’m a Decanus of heavy infantry,” Ippazio pleaded. “I don’t know anything about warships, commerce or staff officer business.”

  “Exactly. And that’s why you’ll take the coins and have the pouch delivered to the address in Rome,” the man insisted. “And squad leader Ippazio, you will tell no one about our meeting.”

  The Lance Corporal bent and snatched the pouch from the ground. As he straightened, he looked for the stranger but the man was gone.

  Chapter 14 - Trade Negotiations

  Alerio was tired, a little thick headed from last night’s vino but, otherwise in good spirits. Centurion Decalcavi turned out to be a great story teller and the two stayed up late trading tales. With just a short nap to refresh himself before relieving Corporal Humi, Alerio could add sleepy to his maladies. Despite the urge to lay down and take a nap, he cheered up when Cata Pous and Pejus Monilis appeared from the trees.

  “Good day, master builder and master engineer,” Alerio bellowed. “While you rested in the arms of Hypnos and acted in Morpheus’ plays, the Legion stood watch.”

  “Must you be of such a pleasant nature each morning?” Pejus growled. “I’ve got to stake out a third of a mile for the dam, fighting heavy brush to place each marker. This will be a hard day.”

  “In the heavy infantry, Master Monilis, if you aren’t having a hard day, you are dead,” Alerio informed the engineer. “And what about you, master ship builder, are you anticipating a heavy day?”

  “No Centurion. With almost my entire work force commandeered to dig dirt and rocks, I’ll be sunning my face and sipping cheap Umbria beer all day.”

  For a heartbeat, Alerio contemplated giving the boat builder the half full wineskin of good vino. Before he could offer it, one of the master carpenters ran towards them.

  “The bores are gone,” he announced from fifteen feet away.

  “All of them?” Cata demanded.

  The carpenter slid to a stop, puffed out a few breaths, and replied, “All but three. They were with the metalworkers for sharpening.”

  “What does that mean for us?” Alerio inquired.

  “Each oak biscuit needs two holes. It’s how we connect the hull boards,” the boat builder explained. “Without the drills, no holes, without the holes no pegs. Without the pegs, well, in short, we’ll be delayed for months.”

  Alerio squatted and placed one fist on the ground to steady his stance. Then, his head fell forward and hung in defeat.

  “What are the alternatives?” he questioned. “Can our metalworkers make new drills?”

  “Their forges are small and mostly used for repairs. They can hammer out the bodies for a few tools but they’ll require good steel for the boring part,” Pejus Monilis offered. “It’ll be quicker to buy replacement drills.”

  “That means going to Administrator Nardi Cocceia for more credit,” Alerio whined before warning. “I am way beyond my authority with him as it is.”

  “How is that possible?” Cata Pous inquired. “You’ve done an astonishing job of getting Stifone prepared. And look at the progress we’ve made on the trireme.”

  “In my talks with Administrator Cocceia, I’ve led him to believe I have the authority to sanction his expenditures,” Alerio confessed. “I’m not sure of the details in the Republic’s treaty with the Umbria nation. But I can assume, the treaty does not have a clause permitting a junior infantry officer to conduct trade negotiations.”

  “I have found, Centurion, that politicians will forgive much if they receive more,” Pejus Monilis offered. “And I dare say, a warship for the Republic’s Navy qualifies.”

  Optio Florian and Tesserarius Humi appeared from the trees. Sprinting, they crossed the boatyard to Alerio.

  “A militiaman woke us,” the NCOs explained. “What’s the crisis, sir?”

  “Most of our drills are gone,” Alerio answered. He looked from one Legionary to the other. When neither spoke, he queried Humi. “What? No offer to torture the workers to uncover the culprit, Tesserarius?”

  “Sir. The saboteur has done an adequate job of doing damage and covering his tracks,” Humi suggested. “I don’t think he’ll confess under any circumstance.”

  “I don’t either,” Alerio admitted. “Someone, please, tell me how this happened?”

  Alerio expected to hear an excuse from his Corporal. The NCO had the second watch and the tools must have been taken in the dark. But a master carpenter spoke first.

  “We left our saws, mallets, hatchets, and drills at our work stations,” he explained. “The tools are our livelihood and our responsibility. They should have been put away at the end of the day.”

  “But how did all the drills vanish?” Alerio insisted. “I don’t believe Vulcan suddenly had a burning need for used boring tools. Awakened last night and decided to visit Stifone and carry our drills back to his godly forge. Yet, someone took them.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the carpenter stated. “They’re our responsibility. My apprentice and I will travel to Amelia and speak with Nardi Cocceia about replacements.”

  “There you go, Centurion Sisera,” Cata Pous said. “The carpenter will speak with Administrator Cocceia for you.”

  Alerio lifted his face to meet the five pairs of eyes staring down at him. In those faces, he read the need for leadership. Realizing his posture was submissive and not relaying confidence, the Legion officer straightened his legs and rose to his full height.

  “We have a berm to construct and stairs to finish,” he pointed out. “Once the upper area is accessible, have the laborers rotate off the dam detail to move their belongings. Master Pous, you will not be sunning today. I need you to supervise the relocation of the camps to the upper level.”

  “Orders for us, sir,” Optio Florian asked.

  “Go rest. I need you two to be alert in case our disparager attempts another delaying tactic,” Alerio replied. Then to the carpenter, he advised. “Help with the stairs. Once they’re done, move your things to the new site, then head for Amelia.”

  “Very good, Centurion,” the woodworker agreed.

  The Carpenter, boat builder, and the Legion NCOs walked away leaving Alerio alone with a grinning master engineer.

  “You seem to have revived,” Pejus Monilis observed.

  “If you have such a hard day of placing markers ahead of you,” Alerio stated. “Don’t you think you should get started?”

  “Yes, sir,” the engineer acknowledged, before saluting and strolling to his surveying equipment.

  Alerio closed his eyes and offered a prayer to the Goddess Pietas. Hopefully, the letters he sent to Tribune Subausterus and Fleet Praetor Sudoris would bring instr
uctions and authorization. With a sanction from either of them, he could honor the goddess and continue building the warship. But, any delay in the ship’s progress gave an opportunity for Nardi Cocceia or any other powerful Umbrian to realize Alerio Sisera was only a junior Centurion, acting on his own.

  “Pietas, I am trying,” he whispered to the goddess of duty.

  ***

  The aroma of stew drifted through the window and Alerio involuntarily rolled in the direction of the delicious smell.

  “If you are cooking under my window, there better be enough to share,” he warned while swinging his legs off the bed. “And what it that?”

  “Rabbit stew, Centurion,” Corporal Humi called up from the yard. “And there is plenty. I went hunting because I was sick of Umbria salted pork and wanted fresh meat.”

  After slipping on a tunic, strapping on his boots, and belting on his pugio, Centurion Sisera followed the smoke to a table with two chairs located beside the Legion house. Nearby, a large iron pot hung over a low cooking fire.

  Humi poured a mug of vino when Alerio approached and offered it to the officer.

  “Have a seat, sir. I’ll get you a bowl of stew.”

  The afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees on the mountains. The angle let Alerio know the lateness of the day.

  “Did the carpenter make it off alright?” Alerio asked before sitting.

  “I’m assuming he left for Amelia shortly after the Optio relieved you, sir,” Humi ventured. “I took a nap and woke up hungry. Grabbed a bow and headed into the mountains. Found three fat hares and here they are, gracing our pot.”

  “They’re delicious,” Alerio admitted after chewing and swallowing a piece of tender meat. “Where were you stationed before Stifone, Tesserarius?”

  Humi stirred the pot then dropped to his knees and, using a stick, stoked the flames. After silently attending to the fire, he stood.

  “Did you hear me?” Alerio inquired.

  “Oh, sorry sir. I was thinking about my time at the Legion transfer station,” the NCO said. “I forgot to say it.”

  “Which station?”

  “The northern transfer station at the Capital,” Humi answered after a long pause.

  “You must know Tesserarius Gratian,” Alerio offered. Then as a tease, he added. “Too bad the man hates gambling so much.”

  Humi’s reply surprised Alerio.

  “Some NCOs don’t understand a man requires distraction from the routine of garrison duty,” the Corporal declared. “Yes, sir, he’s a fanatic against wagering, that one is.”

  There could be a number of reasons Humi mischaracterized Corporal Gratian. The most obvious was a Legionary protecting an NCO’s reputation from an officer. Alerio could have told Humi he knew Gratian when he was Recruit Sisera. And that Gratian was renowned for his gambling but, he didn’t. Then, Humi stepped away from the cooking fire.

  “I’m going to relieve Optio Florian, sir,” the Corporal announced. “I’ll see you later, sir.”

  Humi marched away and Alerio realized the flames were blazing high up the sides of the iron pot. To prevent the stew from burning on the bottom, Alerio took the ladle and swirled the stew. Bones, bare from where the meat had cooked off, rose to the surface. Except, connective tissue still held some of the bones together. In a stew that had been cooking all afternoon, the bones should be loose.

  But stirring released more of the smell and the aroma heightened Alerio’s hunger. He forgot about the bones as he dipped the ladle. With a full bowl, Alerio sat and ate more of the delicious rabbit stew.

  ***

  Shortly after the moon passed the top of the sky, Alerio relieved Corporal Humi.

  “I have the watch, Tesserarius.”

  “Yes, sir. You have two militiamen walking counter routes around the warship,” Humi reported. “And another stationed at the steps leading up to the worker’s camp.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” the NCO admitted. “It was Lieutenant Roscini’s idea. He mentioned something about wanting to know when someone entered the boatyard.”

  “An excellent idea,” Alerio acknowledged. “You are dismissed.”

  “Good night, sir.”

  Alerio walked the circuit and met both patrolling militiamen before cutting across the yard. At the set of new wooden steps, he was challenged.

  “Who are you?” a voice inquired.

  “Centurion Alerio Sisera,” Alerio answered.

  He stepped out of the dark and into lantern light.

  “Is there much traffic during the night?” Alerio asked the sentry.

  “Fire tenders, Centurion,” the Umbrian replied. “Apprentices come down to check the fires in the drying houses.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “No, Centurion,” the militiaman reported. “Sane people are sleeping.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Alerio admitted.

  He walked back into the dark to check on the two roving guards.

  ***

  Smoke from cookfires drifted down to the boatyard letting Alerio and the men on guard duty know the laborers were waking. By the time sunlight shoved back the night, men were walking the stairs from the heights.

  “Spare us the talk, Centurion Sisera,” Cata Pous and Pejus Monilis said at the same time. “We’re glad the Legion is here to protect us.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Alerio responded.

  Rather than converging on the trireme, the work force headed into the thin forest where they had recently made camp. On the bank of the Nera, they formed a long line and began sending scoops of dirt, and large rocks to a marked line at the top of the bank.

  “We have another crew in the water pulling up river stones,” Pejus advised. “They’re tossing them onto the opposite side of the berm.”

  “Will it hold if the river reaches that height?” Alerio inquired.

  “If it’s a steady rise, yes,” the engineer answered. “But, a full-on rushing flood? No. That would sweep everything away, no matter how well we build the dam.”

  Alerio walked with Pejus as the earthen works grew taller and elongated. They had reached beyond the bend in the river when a cry rose from far behind them. The Legion officer and the engineer raced to the boatyard to investigate.

  The woodsmen were charged with cutting and bringing in logs and hunting for food. A large group of them circled objects laying on the ground.

  “What have you got?” Alerio questioned while shoving woodsmen aside.

  When he finally saw the bodies, the Legion officer stiffened and stepped back. He’d seen corpses before. Some long dead and rotting and others so fresh steam still rose from the flesh. The reaction had nothing to do with death but for the deceased themselves. It was the master carpenter and his young apprentice. They never made it to Amelia.

  According to the tale being told by the woodsmen, the bodies had been found off to the side of the trail about a quarter of a mile across the Nara River. Although the woodsmen had broken off the shafts, the arrow wounds were obvious for anyone who knew weapons.

  “What about our drills?” Cata Pous asked when Alerio backed up to stand beside him.

  “I’ll go see Nardi Cocceia, myself,” Alerio volunteered.

  “It could be dangerous?” Cata offered with a nod at the bodies. “The saboteur is still out there.”

  “I’m a farm boy and at home in the woods,” Alerio growled. “And I’m a Legion heavy infantryman. This trip, the archer will not be dealing with a carpenter and a child. He’ll have to deal with a different type of craftsman.”

  “Different type of craftsman?” the boat builder inquired.

  “A craftsman of war,” Alerio informed him.

  He marched away from Cata and towards where Pejus and where the crews were building up the river bank. His jaw set and both fists curled tight making his knuckles white. Centurion Sisera was looking forward to confronting the saboteur. He would be disappoint
ed.

  Act 4

  Chapter 15 - Cūlī and Elbows

  Arrowheads weren’t deadly to an infantryman holding a heavy Legion shield. While a shaft guided by Fortūna might slip between the top of the iron band and the brim of a helmet, armor protected the Legionary. For the trip to Amelia, Alerio wouldn’t have personal barriers between his body and the murderous archer. But he planned to hunt in concentric circles through the woods, stay off trails and, away from open ground. Hopefully, through doubling back, tracking, and concealment, he would get within a blade’s length of the saboteur before catching an arrow.

  “Sir. I have to protest,” Humi stated. “Armor and a shield are called for when facing an unknow aggressor.”

  “I have never hunted game in a helmet or shoulder rig,” Alerio replied as he wrapped a length of black silk around his waist. “But I have fought undergrowth trying to work a shield through thick woods. I prefer not to do it again.”

  “Then at least take Optio Florian or me with you to watch your back,” the Tesserarius advised. He pointed at the soft material wrapped around Alerio. “That thin layer of silk will not stop a bee’s sting let alone a hunting arrow.”

  Alerio smiled and ran his palm over a section of the silk.

  “You’d be surprised how much damage can be controlled by a length of silk,” he described. “No company. I want the saboteur to feel comfortable enough to come in close.”

  “Bowmen reach out and touch their victims from a distance, sir,” Humi warned. “They don’t have to get close to kill you.”

  “Corporal, where’s your confidence in your Centurion?” Alerio teased while dropping a soft woolen shirt over his head.

  “Oh, I’m confident, sir. And pretty sure this is suicide,” Humi declared. “As sure as there are two dead carpenters being buried this afternoon.”

  “Correction, Tesserarius. A carpenter and an apprentice,” Alerio said.

  He reached into a travel pack and lifted out a dual gladius rig. While the harness swung onto Alerio’s back someone knocked on the door. The NCO hurried across the room and opened it.