Neptune's Fury
Page 10
“Centurion Sisera, Master Pous wants you at the boatyard,” a militiaman said from the doorway.
“What’s wrong now?” Humi questioned.
“Nothing Tesserarius. They found the boring tools.”
***
The earthen berm protected the shipyard from upstream surges but did not completely seal the entire area. Rising backwater from downstream, where there was no raised dike, would not have the destructive power of waves pouring through the gap from high in the mountains.
‘An extensive soaking would dry. But, demolition by flooding involved picking up pieces of broken warship, rebuilding support structures, and mucking silt out the channel,’ Alerio thought. ‘Redirecting work from the warship to build the earthwork was a worthy diversion of labor.’
He and Corporal Humi climbed the bank of dirt, jogged through the woods, then quickly walked the length of the trireme. Ahead, they spotted Cata Pous, Pejus Monilis, and a file of laborers. The workmen created a line extending from the flatland, over the bank, and down into the river.
The earthen berm followed the curvature of the river but ended before the dike reached the boat channel. There, it tapered down and blended with the riverbank. A few feet away the boat trench cut through the bank until the vertical sides merged with the river. Only a water barrier at the end of the boat trench prevented the river from backing up and flooding the incomplete warship. Both the engineer and the boat builder stood above the cofferdam.
“The need for your perilous journey has been eradicated,” Pejus Monilis boasted when he noticed Centurion Sisera and the NCO.
“How do you figure?” Alerio questioned.
“The missing drills have been located,” Cata Pous declared. “They were not taken. Rather, our vandal concealed them in the river. One of the crew, while setting river stones, fell in and floated downstream. If not for that happy accident, we would never have discovered them.”
“The poor lad cut his foot when he finally righted himself,” Pejus described. “He reached down to investigate the sharp object and lifted out a boring tool.”
“A Legionary who short cuts an assignment, isn’t always a slacker,” Alerio muttered so low it was as if he was speaking to himself.
“Excuse me?” Cata asked in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“An Optio taught me the lesson when I was a lad on my father’s farm. Doing an incomplete job isn’t always a sign of laziness or a lack of motivation,” Alerio replied. “If not slothfulness, our saboteur might be assuring the work will continue later. Or they had somewhere better to be.”
“Which is this?” Pejus inquired. “Someone wanting to get out of work or is there a grand scheme in play?”
“I wish I knew, master engineer,” Alerio admitted. “One thing is clear. Our vandal doesn’t want to end the trireme or he would have burned it. His aim seems to be a slowing of the process. Master Pous, how long before the carpenters can get back to work?”
“The metalworkers are cleaning and honing the tools as they’re fished out,” the boat builder explained. “We should be back to full strength by morning.”
“Another lesson from my youth. You can work men hard for short periods or longer at an easy pace,” Alerio reported. “Here’s what we’ll do. Split your labor force in two parts. One group starts work at daybreak but ends their shift in midafternoon. The other section starts at midday morning and works until dark.”
“What’s the advantage of that?” Pejus inquired.
“Beyond a leisurely breakfast and a relaxing dinner for some carpenters?” Alerio offered. “Pacing. Starting tomorrow, I want to see cūlī and elbows.”
“Again, I don’t mean to be thick headed,” Cata pleaded. “but what does that mean?”
“It means, Master Pous, Centurion Sisera does not want to see anyone standing around or resting,” Corporal Humi informed the boat builder. “Sir, set the pace?”
Alerio began clapping his hands. Shortly after, a tempo became apparent. Above a resting heartrate but below one experienced during a hard run, the pace could be maintained for long periods by groups working together to complete a task: hauling in a fishing net; rowing in unison; harvesting a field of grain; constructing a brick structure; or building a ship-of-war, the relentless pace always driving the workers forward.
“That’s a novel approach,” Pejus commented. “I approve.”
“Master Monilis, you might not be as pleased by the end of the week,” Alerio warned while his hands continued to beat out the rhythm. “This ship will be built as soon as humanly possible.”
“I see no problem with the method,” Pejus bristled.
“There will be two shifts of woodworkers, metalworkers, and laborers,” Cata Pous pointed out. “But only one of me for design and one of you for plotting and layout.”
A shadow fell across the engineer’s face and his eyes became unfocused for a heartbeat.
“When do we rest?” Pejus demanded.
“Cūlī and elbows, Master Engineer,” Alerio stated while walking away.
As he retraced his steps alongside the trireme, the Legion officer’s palms beat together in the steady tempo.
***
Light streaked across the sky, broken in areas by low hanging clouds. As dawn approached, so did the eight militiamen, and both Legion NCOs.
“Where do you want us, sir,” Optio Florian inquired.
“For now, line them up at the base of the cliff,” Alerio directed. “If they don’t move, we’ll go up and kick them awake.”
In the dark, Tite Roscini and his men formed a rank with Florian and Humi. Alerio stepped behind the line.
“I’ll lead us off. You join me on the second round,” he instructed.
“Centurion, why don’t we simply go up there and wake them?” Tite inquired.
“Because, Lieutenant Roscini, men respond better to chanting than to challenges,” Alerio informed him. “Enter a tent and half the men will come at you for bothering them. The other half will pull their blankets over their heads and go back to sleep.”
“I have a brother like that,” Tite ventured.
“Which type?” Humi asked.
“Both,” responded the militia officer. “One likes to sleep and the other likes to fight. Father always called them from the other side of the villa.”
“If we are all agreed that chanting works, can I begin?” Alerio inquired.
“Yes, sir,” all ten men said.
Alerio elevated his head and scanned the edge of the high ledge. There were no lights or movement. He began to chant.
“Put an end to your nasty sleep
Kick life into your merda and leap
Into the adventure of the fray
Fling off your blanket
As Nyx absconds with the night
And Luna abandons the sky
Stand on your feet
Prepare to die
As Hypnos lefts the veil
Our eyes use the light
To build, to fight
Awaken, be public
For a new day dawns
And there’s killing that needs done.”
“Ah, sir. You’re waking carpenters and laborers, not Legionaries,” Sergeant Florian suggested. “Maybe soften the wording?”
“Good idea Optio. Let me try again.”
Low, so only those on either side of the militiaman could hear, one whispered, “Just his voice alone would wake the dead. I think the carpenters will get up purely out of self-defense.”
“Pay attention,” Alerio warned. “You’ll be chanting with me later.”
“Can we all agree to do it loudly?” the same militiaman added.
Centurion Sisera feeling confident began again.
“Put an end to your private sleep
shake life into your hands and leap
Into the adventure of the day
We ask you Janus
make today a good beginning
And Zelos grant our bodies zest
>
To hug puppies
To our breasts
The gift of Pietas
Duty gives us the right
To build, to excite
Awaken, be public
For a new day dawns
And there are friends to be won”
“How was that Optio?” Alerio questioned.
“Not totally the proper wording, sir,” the Sergeant ventured. “There is no doubt they’ll wake but again we’re waking carpenters, not shop owners.”
“I guess that was a little off,” Alerio acknowledged. “Let me try it again.”
“Oh, please and let me poke my ears out,” the militiaman begged.
Alerio didn’t hear the remark, as he had begun chanting.
“Put an end to your private sleep
Kick life into your limbs and leap
Into the adventure of the day
Sol Indiges gives light
By hurling the sun across the sky
And the rays bring Spes potential
Her hope
Is essential
Blessed by the Goddess Bia
For men need might
To build, to fight
Awaken, be public
For a new day dawns
And there are deeds to be done”
A few voices shouted from the camps followed by several items pitched over the cliff.
“I believe they are rousing,” Alerio observed. “Let’s give them another rendition to be sure the first crew is up.”
Before, Alerio could lead, the ten-man line began chanting.
“Put an end to your private sleep
Shake life into your hands and leap
Into the adventure of the day
We ask you Janus
make today a good beginning
And Zelos grant our bodies zest
To hug puppies
To our breasts
The gift of Pietas
Duty gives us the right
To build, to excite
Awaken, be public
For a new day dawns
And there are friends to be won”
By the end of the verse, curses and solid items rained down on the NCOs and militiamen.
“Detail, dismissed,” Alerio shouted as he jogged away from the base of the cliff.
His men dispersed rapidly in separate directions. Alerio sighted the master engineer and ship builder and he angled towards them.
“Is that a Legion fighting formation?” Cata Pous inquired seeing the militiamen scatter.
“No, Master Pous. That is the reward for a job well done,” Alerio replied. “I believe your work force will be down shortly.”
“And if they don’t come down?”
“Then I’ll go up there and throw one off the cliff,” Alerio advised.
“Only one, Centurion Sisera?”
“Usually, that’s all it takes for men to realize the seriousness of a situation,” Alerio explained.
“Would you deem this situation serious?” Pejus Monilis inquired.
“We have a benefactor who can close us down with the pull of a purse string. An absent Tribune with the authority to endorse our method of operating but can’t be reached,” Alerio listed. “And an unknown agent who would prefer we relax and take long naps. So indeed, Master Monilis, I would say our situation is critical.”
“We should get to work,” Cata suggested.
He pointed at the steps. Lines of craftsmen and apprentices filled the treads.
“It seems you won’t be launching anyone this morning,” Pejus remarked.
“We’ll see how the rest of it goes,” Alerio warned as he began clapping his hands together in the work rhythm.
“We know, Centurion Sisera,” Cata commented. “Cūlī and Elbows.”
Chapter 16 - Fire and Prometheus
Four days of extraordinary production saw the hull connect with the fore and aft keel risers. Enclosed in the oak hull, Cata Pous and Pejus Monilis measured the interior. Beginning on one end, they placed markers and etched marks for ribs, beams, posts, and the location of rowers’ benches. While the layout appeared roomy in the empty hull, once the rowers were seated, the unitarian positions would be claustrophobic. For now, the trireme appeared to be a wooden replica of a splayed whale carcass.
On the grounds of the shipyard, carpenters shifted from carving hard oak boards to working lighter and softer pine, spruce, and fir lumber. Studs and posts to support the hull and top decks were cut from cedar. The aromatic wood inundated the area with a fresh aroma.
“This will be the best smelling warship in the world,” Pejus observed.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Cata cautioned. “After a few months of oarsmen sweating and relieving themselves, this ship will stink like all the others.”
“Although, not presently, master ship builder,” Pejus said while carving adjoining lines into the keel beam. “It’s as fresh as a new latrine and, an example of why I prefer working on new construction.”
They measured and moved to another section. After positioning the angle tool, Pejus notched another set of lines on the oak beam. At the front of the trireme, apprentices lowered planks over the hull where they were untied by journeymen carpenters. Once fitted to the engineer’s marks on the keel, holes were drilled and the carpenters pounded in dowels. Then, they reached for the next plank hanging over the side.
Away from the trench and trireme, Optio Florian patrolled between tool storage and wood drying sheds.
“You two,” the Sergeant barked at a pair of lounging apprentices. “You are moving with purpose or you are climbing to the camps to take a nap. Which is it? Because standing around comparing the size of your mentulae won’t help them grow. Move along.”
The two jerked away from the wall of the shed and faced the Legion NCO.
“We are assigned to watch the drying sheds,” one reported.
“I can’t imagine anything more thrilling than watching wood dry,” Florian remarked. “Lets’ examine the duty. Is there no part of watching boards dry that requires activity?”
“Keeping the embers buried under ash to prevent the flames from flaring up and starting a fire,” the other apprentice answered.
“There you go, a mission,” the Optio said with enthusiasm. “Why don’t you start with the shed you were holding up?”
“Holding up?” the first inquired.
“With intellect like yours, you could be Veles,” the NCO of heavy infantry offered. “Check the shed you were leaning on. Then every shed between the cliff and the channel.”
“This shed is for oar drying,” the second apprentice offered. “There is almost no heat because the doors are never opened.”
“And why is that?” the Sergeant inquired.
“Once they harvested two hundred young fir trees, they sealed the shed,” the apprentice explained. “We only check it three times a week.”
“What day is this?”
“Tuesday, I guess.”
“Imagine that, the exact day you check the shed,” the Sergeant instructed. “Movement people, the Centurion wants movement.”
Both apprentices rushed for the entrance. They lifted the locking bar, opened the door, and vanished into the drying shed. Optio Florian nodded approvingly at the hustle displayed by the two young men before he continued his patrol of the boatyard.
***
Cold rain soaked their cloaks and water dripped from their helmets and splattered off their cheeks and noses.
“There is something invigorating about being cold and wet on a black night,” Alerio lied while lifting his hands to the covered lantern. Almost no heat radiated from the small flame.
“Yes, sir. As the saying goes, misery and third shift go hand-in-hand. And the only time a third shift sentry is happy is when he is relieved of duty,” Tesserarius Humi remarked. “I imagine you’ll be happy later this morning. Me, I am about to get very warm and happy.”
“Dismissed, Corporal,” Alerio
said relieving the NCO. “Go drink some vino for me.”
“Gladly, sir,” Humi promised.
The NCO’s form blurred into the dark rain and Alerio turned to another spot of light. Using it as a guide, the Legion officer marched from the light next to the construction channel in the direction of the stairs at the base of the cliff.
When he got close, Alerio laughed at the ingenuity of the militiamen. A goatskin wrap hung under the risers of the stairs providing shelter from the rain. A small fire offered heat.
“Can you see who comes down or approaches the steps?” Alerio inquired.
“Yes, Centurion. Both ways and it’s dry under here,” the man replied. “There’s room for two, if you want to come in.”
“No. We have roving patrols and if they’re walking in the weather, so am I,” Alerio responded.
“Stay alert, sir,” warned the Umbrian. “Only bad things will come out on a night like this.”
“Did you hear something I should know about?”
“No, Centurion Sisera. We’re mountain folk and the mountains are full of threats,” the militiamen stated. “And nights like this are an invitation for things that hunt after dark to prowl.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Alerio remarked before marching away.
Twenty paces from the stairs, Alerio noticed a horizontal bar of flickering light. The odd shape baffled him. Between the light brightening and fading, and the rain acting as a filter, he couldn’t understand it. Then his mind sorted the images and he understood.
“Fire,” Alerio shouted before a weight slammed into the back of his head.
The strike sent him stumbling forward. After several uncoordinated steps, Alerio fell face first into the mud. Confused as to how he ended up on the wet ground, his instincts wanted him to lay still until his senses returned. When his mind failed to act, his training took control.
‘Never be where your enemy expects you. Never take the blow. Never go on defense when attacked.’
The words and lessons to a young Alerio from an experienced Centurion shot through his mind. From the flash of memory, his reflexes sent impulses through his limbs. He tucked, curled, and rolled.
A thick oak board smacked into the ground a hand’s width from his head. Feeling the mud splash on his face brought awareness back to the Legionary. He extended his legs and scissor kicked. One foot connected with his attacker’s leg.