Neptune's Fury

by J. Clifton Slater

  “Oh, but the Goddess Muta is a cruel mistress,” Thomasious Harricus cried after Alerio explained who the people were. “Here is a story for my scrolls that would bring me coins by the purse full. Yet, the Clay Ear must not write the tale. But I have to see this wonder of a vessel.”

  Thomasious Harricus jumped up and ran to the doors leading to the back hallway.

  “Erebus. Harness up the wagon,” the inn keeper called to his barbarian assistant. “We are going shopping for cheese and bread. Then, we will go to see a trireme. I can say no more but hurry.”

  “Thank you, Master Harricus,” Alerio acknowledged. “Those men worked hard for me.”

  “You owe me, Centurion Sisera,” the inn keeper chided Alerio. “Not for feeding your crew. But for bringing the Clay Ear a story that he can’t publish.”

  ***

  Blocks from the inn, Alerio rapped on the door to the Historia Fae. A glance at the sky showed the sun was low and the end of the daylight coming on fast.

  A small square of iron opened in the door and an eye peered out.

  “Decent people are at supper,” Tomas Kellerian, the armorer to the gods, stated. “Upright citizens are resting after a hard day of work.”

  “I am not decent or upright,” Alerio informed him. “I’m an infantry officer in the Legion. I haven’t done a hard day’s work since they attached the rooster comb to the top of my helmet.”

  “At least you’re honest,” Kellerian acknowledged.

  An iron bar squealed as it was removed and the hinges squeaked when the door opened. Alerio walked over the threshold and the sounds of tortured iron accompanied the closing and bolting of the door.

  “Looking at your Umbrian clothing, I don’t know where to begin,” Tomas Kellerian admitted. “Just tell me why you have interrupted my extravagant meal.”

  Alerio scanned the room. A bowl of stew resting on a workbench was the only thing in sight qualifying as nourishment.

  “I need armor, under clothing, a gladius belt, a gladius to go with it, and a Centurion helmet,” Alerio informed him. “And I need it right away, Master Kellerian.”

  “Someday, you will enter my shop and respect my time,” Tomas challenged. “Until that day arrives, come with me.”

  In short order, Alerio marched out of the armor to the gods’ establishment wearing Centurion gear. Alerio located a carriage and climbed to the seat.

  “Senator Spurius Maximus’ Villa,” he instructed the driver.

  As a rule, Alerio preferred walking and taking in the sights and sounds of the Capital. But today, with the city guard hunting him, riding was the better idea. He pulled the curtain closed and sat back as the carriage lurched and bounced while it crossed the city.

  ***

  The finely carved statue of the winged Goddess Bia glowed golden in the afternoon sun. Alerio paused to offer a silent prayer to the goddess of force and might after stepping down from the carriage. Once he thanked her for the strength of his body, he moved to the front door of Villa Maximus and knocked.

  The peephole cover slid back and a stranger wearing a helmet appeared in the opening. Besides the helmet, the man wore aged leather chest and shoulder armor.

  “What do you want?” the man-at-arms inquired.

  Alerio knew most of the Senator’s home guards. They were all veteran infantrymen and he had interacted with them on occasion. But he didn’t recognize this one.

  “Centurion Sisera to see Senator Maximus,” Alerio replied to the house guard. “Or Belen, if the Senator is unavailable.”

  “Master Spurius Maximus and his secretary are at the Senator’s country estate,” the man-at-arms informed Alerio. “They’re expected back next week.”

  The peephole slid closed and Alerio stood staring at the door. He didn’t know who else to contact about his dilemma. He remained on the front porch, thinking with his back to the street.

  Besides processing a list of potential allies, one thought tugged at Alerio’s mind. All of the Senator’s personal guards referred to Spurius Maximus as Senator or General. None called him Master.

  Not that it would have made a difference how long Alerio lingered on the stoop. The ten city guardsmen and their officer came on him fast.

  At the sounds of boot leather on pavers, Alerio spun to challenge them. His hand was on the hilt of his gladius when a cloud passed over the face of the sun. In that moment, Alerio happened to glance at the statue of Bia. The golden light faded and, in the shadow that took its place, the granite turned as grey as the pale of death. Taking it as a warning from the goddess, Alerio lifted his hand from his weapon.

  “Alerio Sisera?” the guard officer demanded.

  “I’m Centurion Sisera.”

  “You’re under arrest,” the guard officer charged. “For the crime of treason against the Republic.”

  The door to Villa Maximus swung open and the man-at-arms from the peephole and three others, also dressed in aged leather armor, strutted through the doorway.

  “I told you it would work,” the man bragged to the guard officer.

  “There’s no reward,” the officer responded.

  “It’s already been paid,” the mercenary assured the guard Centurion. Then to a man standing behind the line of guardsmen, he instructed. “We’re off for vino. Let’s go.”

  The five mercenaries strutted away and Alerio glanced over his shoulder. They had left the front door open.

  “What about checking and securing the General’s villa?” Alerio questioned. “And where is the household staff?”

  “Don’t you worry about the villa,” the Centurion stated. “One of my guardsmen will close the door. Now, move, traitor.”

  Chapter 25 - Somewhat Involved

  Surrounded by armed guards, Alerio was marched down backstreets to the city guard headquarters and barracks. Inside the walls, they guided him to a row of holding cells constructed of brick and mud.

  “I have orders that no one can be near the prisoner,” an NCO stated while stepping in front of the detachment escorting Alerio. “Our main holding room is standing room only and the individual cells are full.”

  “What are you saying, Sergeant?” the officer asked.

  “We need to clear cells to isolate him,” the Optio explained. “But I’m not sure which ones to…?”

  “I’ll make it easy on you,” the Centurion told him. “Clear the first three and put the prisoner in the center one. There, it’s done. Now make it happen.”

  “But sir…,” the NCO began to protest when the officer pointed two accusing fingers at him.

  “Clear the cells. I do not want to say it again,” the guard officer directed. “Or you can think about your disrespect on the punishment post.”

  “Clear the cells,” the Optio directed his two-man team of Privates.

  The locking beams were lifted from the brackets, set aside, and the doors opened.

  “Get out,” the NCO bellowed at the cells. “Consider yourselves lucky. The Centurion has interceded on your behalf with the Praetor and your court day has been cancelled. You would be well advised to stay out of trouble. And to make an offering to the God Sors for your luck.”

  The Guard officer and the NCO glared at each man as the freed detainees left their cells, collected their possessions, and headed for the main gate.

  A man stinking of urine and animal dung stumbled from the first cell. Even through the sun rested behind the defensive wall, he jerked up his forearm to protect his eyes from the brightness. After picking up a herding club and a pouch from a table, he staggered towards the gate.

  The man’s hangover would really hit him later when the vino left his system. Unless the stockyard worker replenished his thirst for Bacchus’ blessing. Then the chances were, the drunk would be back in the care of the city guard before dawn, the Optio decided.

  Next, a man dressed in a quality linen toga and a blue robe ducked through the low doorway. He placed a hat on his head and cocked it at an angle while straightening and
stretching his back. The petasos hid his eyes but the brim didn’t cover his bright white teeth and overly friendly smile.

  “Centurion, I congratulate you on the fine facility you have here in the Capital,” he exclaimed while bowing to the Guard officer. He selected a purse and a scroll from the table before adding. “Hopefully, there will be no more misinterpretations of my business practices.”

  “Cheating old people by charging interest rates they can’t afford is not business. You’ll be back,” the NCO assured him. “And the next time, we’ll gather witnesses and you’ll stand trial for usury.”

  Even though the smile never left the man’s face, the officer knew the Optio hit a nerve. The description of his crimes had the loan offender increasing his pace. The Centurion figured, maybe not tomorrow but, within the week, the fraudster would be back in custody.

  The third internee appeared in the doorway and paused. Before leaving the sanctuary of the cell, he scanned the yard. Only after checking the location of the guardsmen, the officer, and the Guard Sergeant, did he walk out into the open.

  Alerio recognized Civi Affatus and the veteran’s practical awareness. As a Legionary, the NCO had been in Spurius Maximus’ First Century. After years in the Legion protecting the General, he joined Senator Maximus’ household guard.

  The former Sergeant plucked his gladius belt from the table without breaking stride. Not pausing to strap it on, he slung the belt over a shoulder and marched directly for the main gate.

  Although Civi’s eyes took in every person and every item in the drill yard, former Optio Affatus did not acknowledge Centurion Sisera. Until he exited the main gate and turned left. Then, before the gate frame and defensive wall blocked Alerio’s view, Civi Affatus hammered a fist into his breast in a cross-chest salute. Alerio smiled at the stealth sign of recognition.

  Civi was sure to report seeing Alerio in the custody of the city guard. At least Senator Maximus would know of Alerio’s arrest if not his fate. It was a small comfort, Alerio thought as a guardsman shoved him into a cell. The door closed and Alerio realized he was in the cell recently occupied by the stockyard man.

  ***

  Civi Affatus fumed at the situation. Then he tried to calm himself and figure out a logical reason for his arrest. Earlier in the day, a note requesting his presence at the city guard barracks arrived at the villa. Thinking it concerned the General, he went. As soon as he announced himself, five guardsmen disarmed him and tossed him in a cell. Now, again for no reason or explanation, he had been released.

  Seeing the General’s protégé in custody made him think Alerio Sisera was somehow involved. Putting aside the questions, Civi began to walk faster. After years of running and marching with a full load, he couldn’t sprint or shuffle on his weak knees. But he still had the heart so he pushed through the pain and hurried back to check on villa Maximus.

  ***

  Returning to the property, only added to his list of questions.

  “They came in right after you left,” the cook complained. “Locked me and the gardeners and the housemen in the stables. And you were nowhere to be found.”

  “I was locked up as well,” Civi said in his defense. “What was taken?”

  “Nothing. Well, five food platters and five mugs of vino were used,” the cook offered. “But nothing else was taken.”

  “It seems to be a pretty elaborate plan just to allow five people to have lunch in the Senator’s house,” Civi observed. “There had to be another purpose.”

  “Master Affatus?” a small voice from behind the cook asked.

  “And who are you, lad?” Civi inquired

  A small boy peered around the cook’s legs.

  “Orsus, sir,” the lad replied. “I am the cook’s helper.”

  “By next year, he’ll be grown enough to start as an apprentice,” the cook explained. “He was away when we were penned in. What did you see Orsus?”

  The little lad stepped around the cook, held up two fists, then extended a finger from each.

  “Not only saw,” Orsus bragged while waving one finger. He stopped the movement and switched to rocking the other finger. “But I heard the men and city guards talking.”

  “Bright lad,” Civi commented. “What did they say?”

  “The five men talked about a reward while they ate,” Orsus stated. “When a carriage pulled up, one of the men ran out the side door. I followed him and hid in the bushes. He came back with the guardsmen. What does traitor mean, Master Affatus?”

  “Traitor?” Civi repeated. “Who said traitor?”

  “The officer of the guard,” Orsus informed the former Sergeant. “He said it to the man they arrested.”

  From the statement, Civi knew that seeing Alerio Sisera was more than a coincidence. His being released after the capture indicated that the entire operation revolved around the ambush of Centurion Sisera. Three opposing duties were obvious to Civi. The General would want him to investigate Alerio’s trouble and at the same time, guard the villa.

  The closest reinforcements were from the house guards at Villa Duilius. While Senator Gaius Duilius and Maximus disagreed on many issues, they socialized because they respected each other. And their villas were a block apart.

  “I’ll be right back,” Civi said.

  “Where are you going, Civi?” the cook demanded.

  “To prevent anyone else from invading the villa,” Civi replied as he rushed through the doorway.

  ***

  A block away, with his knees swelling and hurting, he located the head of Senator Duilius’ security. After the former Centurion heard the report, the infantry officer sent a pair of armed men to protect Villa Maximus. Then to Civi’s surprise, the Legion officer motioned for Civi to follow him. They entered Villa Duilius and found the Senator in his office.

  “Sir. There have been some strange activities today,” the Centurion reported. “I think you should be aware. Optio Civi Affatus can tell you more.”

  Civi informed the Senator about the subterfuge, his detention and release. The five men who stayed at the villa, and about the arrest of Centurion Sisera. And finally, about two of his duties as a household sentinel.

  “I was a cosigner of Sisera’s warrant to Centurion,” Gaius Duilius responded. “My guards will see that Spurius’ villa is guarded. That will free you up to handle the other two things you must do.”

  “Two other things, sir?” Civi inquired. He had only mentioned two obligations.

  “Of course, you will find out what Sisera is doing in the Capital and why he was arrested. After you report your finding to me, you’ll be free,” Gaius Duilius remarked. “I hear you were an Optio for the General’s First Century. I can only imagine how eager you are to find the men who invaded the Senator’s home. And gently explain to them the error of their ways.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you,” Civi Affatus said as he and the commander of the house guard backed out of the Senator’s office.

  As they walked the hallway towards the exit, the Centurion turned to the Optio.

  “Tall orders, Civi,” the infantry officer suggested. “Where will you start?”

  “Centurion Sisera stays at the Chronicles Humanum Inn when he’s in the Capital,” Civi answered. “I’ll start there.”

  ***

  The borrowed horse stopped at the crossroads and Civi Affatus dismounted. Riding was easier on his knees then walking and he offered a silent thanks to the Centurion. Once the reigns were tied to a post, Civi walked the stairs to the porch.

  “I’m looking for Master Harricus,” he informed the serving lass.

  “He’s not around,” she answered. “He and Erebus took vino and the wagon to the docks.”

  “Is that normal?” Civi questioned.

  “Is anything ever normal around here?” she shot back. “Are you eating or drinking or leaving?”

  “I’m heading for the dock,” he replied.

  “Then be off with you,” the woman ordered. And she winked and added. �
�Maybe next time you’ll stay for a while.”

  “I might do that,” he stammered while backing out of doorway.

  He crossed the porch and walked the stairs without once thinking about his sore knees.

  ***

  It might have been the most civilized standoff Optio Affatus had ever encountered. At the edge of the docks, Legionaries in the armor and helmets of the Northern Legion squatted beside their infantry shields sat eating bread, cheese, and meat. Between bites, they passed around wineskins.

  Across from the contubernium, a squad of city guardsmen also dined. Behind both lines, Lance Corporals eyed each other while watching their men.

  Thomasious Harricus and his barbarian man, Erebus, walked off a trireme carrying empty cloth bags. Behind them, civilians stood or sat on platforms chewing on food.

  “Master Harricus, a word if you please,” Civi called as he dismounted.

  “You’re not Umbrian or Legion or city guard,” Thomasious Harricus commented. “Who are you?”

  “I’m from Villa Maximus, sir,” Civi replied.

  “I can see by your gladius that you aren’t a stableman or a gardener,” Thomasious remarked. “What can I do for one of Senator Maximus’ personal guards?”

  “Centurion Sisera has been arrested,” Civi informed the inn keeper. “I’ve been sent to discover why he was in the city. And if possible, why he was detained?”

  Thomasious Harricus pointed to the warship.

  “There’s your answer to both,” Thomasious replied. “A warship that should not exist. Bought but not paid for.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Civi admitted.

  “What do you call a trireme that hasn’t been delivered to the navy?”

  “I don’t know, Master Harricus.”

  “A floating bonfire,” Thomasious answered.

  The former Legion NCO bit his lip while attempting to decipher meaning. Then he put the concepts together.

  “Someone wants to burn the ship,” Civi ventured. He thought for a few heartbeats before adding. “And Centurion Sisera owes someone for it?”