Neptune's Fury

by J. Clifton Slater

  “Yesterday, we made a sacrifice to the goddess of revenge,” Civi informed Alerio. “Asking her to help us find the gang.”

  “Well, there you have it,” Alerio announced.

  “Have what, Centurion?” the house guard inquired.

  “Divine approval of me taking the lead,” Alerio stated. “You can’t reject my help and go against the gods. That would be bad, Sergeant.”

  Alerio really didn’t want to fight with a group of local mercenaries. But incensed by the home invasion, General Spurius Maximus’ house guards were determined to teach the soldier of fortune and his crew a lesson.

  Would Abdicatus and his men settle for a simple beatdown? Alerio doubted it. They were more likely to draw blades and blood. Although tough infantry veterans and able Legionaries, the house guards had lost half a heartbeat from their abilities. If Alerio was being generous. Plus, one of Abdicatus’ crew was a swordsman. A few questions to some rough men and Alerio gained intelligence on Hircus. Civi Affatus, even in his prime, couldn’t go against a blade master. That fact alone, forced Alerio to get involved.

  “Remember, give me time to set them up,” Alerio instructed. Then he peered across at the tavern’s sign. “The Unholy Fig. An inelegant name if I ever heard one. Give me time Optio Affatus but not too much. I don’t want to die on the dirty floor boards of a rundown tavern.”

  Alerio crossed the street, stepped up on the porch, and shoved open the doors to the Unholy Fig.

  ***

  Wood didn’t care if it was old, new, used, weathered or fresh from the drying shed. While a variety of wood, oak, pine, fir and, cedar, had been crafted in some places and hammered into others to build the Unholy Fig, the customers in the tavern were generally of three types: hopeless and seeking a handout; mercenaries seeking employment; and shady middlemen who wealthy people contacted to hire swordsmen or muscle. None were interested in the artistry of the carpenters who built the place. But all sixteen people were interested in the man in the green cloak who walked in when the doors opened.

  “Vino,” the man ordered. He placed a coin on the tap manager’s table then walked to an empty chair.

  “This ain’t no high-class gentlemen’s club,” the manager informed the man. He leaned against one of the huge wine casts and folded his arms. “We don’t have a serving wench. Unless you count old Elianus there. But she hasn’t moved for two days. If you want to wait for her next eruption, that’s fine with me.”

  An aging, portly woman in the back of the room raised her arm, waved, and laughed. Alerio ignored her.

  The manager unfolded an arm just long enough to drop Alerio’s coin in his purse. He made no move to draw a mug of vino. During the exchange, Alerio located Abdicatus and his enforcer Hircus.

  The two sat on either side of the other mercenaries as if they were herding dogs. This let Alerio know the three in the center were support bodies for the other two. While they might be dangerous in a formation, individually they weren’t anything special. It was a good sign for Civi and the house guards.

  “Then I’ll have my silver coin back,” Alerio stated while standing. “I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

  “Silver? It was a copper,” the tap manager insisted.

  “I distinctly remember placing a silver on your table,” Alerio maintained. “Let’s test your claim. Tell me the number of silvers you have in your purse. Then empty it on the table and we’ll see if you don’t have an extra silver.”

  While talking, Alerio moved to the side of the manager’s table. It felt awkward but Abdicatus and Hircus had to have a good view when the cloak moved.

  “I will not empty my purse for you or anyone,” the manager stated. He reached behind the table and pulled out a heavy iron bar with a wicked sharp and tapered point on one end.

  Alerio fumbled with the edge of the cloak then paused. He dropped the corner of the cloak, almost tripped while he stepped back. Once his feet were properly set, after three tries, he flipped the cloak back to display the hilt of a sword.

  Pearl handled with a pummel ringed with precious stones, the hilt flashed status and opulence. Adding to the aura of affluence, the sheath was covered in brushed fur with more stones.

  The sword showed four inches of blade when Alerio halted the draw. As if he rethought going up against the iron bar, he slid the blade back, and raised his hands.

  “Perhaps you are correct,” Alerio said. “Return my copper and I’ll be on my way.”

  Sensing the fear in the man with the green cloak, the tap manager laughed.

  “I think I’ll keep it as pay for my aggravation,” the manager answered. He added a wiggle of the iron bar to reinforce his decision. “Now get out of my tavern.”

  Alerio hesitated as if not sure what to do. He was saved by Abdicatus.

  “Nonsense. Please sir, join us,” the mercenary captain offered. He added a smile to his face to show his sincerity. “We have vino and room at our table.”

  With a wave of his hand, the others in his crew moved to open a space and leave an empty chair. It might have been a neighborly gesture, except the chair placed Alerio next to Hircus.

  Five against one happened to be bad combat odds. Especially when one of the six carried multiple blades. Now that he had them thinking about the fancy sword, Alerio needed to extract himself. And draw the mercenaries along in the process. For effect and to delay, he staggered and placed a hand on the manager’s table to steady himself.

  Some people are miserable humans. Their fun always comes at someone else’s expense. And usually they are vindictive. The tip on the iron bar came up, slammed down, and pinned Alerio’s right hand to the oak desktop.

  Alerio screamed and the tap manager sneered, “I told you to get out of my tavern.”

  Abdicatus and Hircus glanced at each other across their table. In silent agreement, they stood and took a step towards the man spiked to the tabletop.

  The door to the Unholy Fig opened and Civi Affatus rushed to Alerio.

  “Sir, I’ve been searching for you…” his face fell. The script forgotten when he noticed the bleeding hand and the iron bar.

  “I seem to be stuck,” Alerio commented.

  “Yes, sir,” Civi acknowledged. He jumped around the table and hammered a fist onto the top of the tap manager’s head. The man released the bar and sank to the floor. With his other hand, the retired Optio caught the iron spike. He yanked it out of the wood and Alerio’s hand. “Pardon me, sir.”

  “I imagine this will be painful in the morning,” Alerio lied while he examined the bleeding hole in his hand. “when the vino wears off.”

  “We should get you to a doctor,” Civi declared. He pulled a cloth from his sword belt and wrapped the hand. After knotting it, the Optio hooked an arm around Alerio’s waist and spun them both to face the doors.

  With shuffling feet, the household guard guided the wounded man to the exit. As they opened the doors, Alerio sagged against him. Civi panicked and rethought the wisdom of seeking vengeance. Fighting and protecting your wounded created a different scenario than a straight forward attack.

  They reached the porch and all Civi could think of was medical care for Centurion Sisera. On the street, the other house guards remained in position. Civi began to signal for them to break cover and follow.

  “Hold on there,” a man said from behind them. Civi and Alerio hobbled around to see Abdicatus, Hircus, and the other three mercenaries standing on the porch of the Unholy Fig. “I offered to buy him a drink. Nobody refuses to drink with me.”

  “Pardon, sir. But as you can see, my master is injured,” Civi begged. “He requires medical attention.”

  “No. What your master needs is to give me that pretty sword,” Abdicatus instructed while he and his crew stepped off the porch and onto the street.

  “That took longer than I wanted,” Alerio whispered while he straightened. Then he tossed back the hood and pointed the bandaged and bloody hand at Hircus. “I hear you’re good with a blade
.”

  ***

  Abdicatus rocked back when he recognized Alerio. “You’re the one they took into custody at,” he stopped before admitting to invading the senator’s villa.

  “And I’m Civi Affatus, house guard for Villa Maximus. You made a critical error. You entered the General’s home without permission.”

  “No old man, you made the critical error,” Abdicatus boasted. “This isn’t the polite part of the Capital. To be honest, it’s a neglected and hostile area.”

  A sword swiped the air making a whooshing sound as Hircus drew his long blade. Then he pulled a short sword with his left hand.

  “I believe this is what you want,” Alerio stated. He unhooked the fur sword belt and let it and the ornate sword fall to the street. “I started to bring two. But with this bandaged hand, I’ll only use one sword. Fortunate, wouldn’t you say.”

  “I’ll take the sword and you two can leave,” Abdicatus suggested.

  Civi started to reply when a horrible sound came from Alerio’s throat. Thinking the Centurion was in pain, he reached out to comfort him.

  “Slurs slung before, the mind can control incivility,” Alerio sang while pivoting away from the Optio.

  A long sword with a heavy blade snapped into view from behind Alerio’s back.

  “And swaps your tranquility for imbecility”

  His left arm crossed his chest while the Centurion finished the pivot. With the sword pulled back, Alerio offered his right shoulder to Hircus’ blades.

  “Wine and insanity rule”

  Hircus displayed his contempt for a lesser swordsman. He accepted the shoulder for what it was. A blunder. His long blade slashed hard and sure, seeking to remove the arm at the shoulder.

  “with the cost of your sense of a mild mind”

  Alerio leaned to the side at the waist, then rocked back and continued rotating to the other side. Hircus’ blade missed Alerio’s shoulder by the width of two fingers.

  “turns your inner eye blind”

  Twisted from the hard swing, Hircus’ long and short blades were slung off to one side.

  “No calming breather. Furor values neither”

  Alerio reached out with his steel and traced the tip up Hircus’ side. Cloth and flesh parted from his thigh to midway up his ribs. The swordsman sagged.

  “Beauty nor mighty ugly. Only rant and rile”

  Alerio dropped to one knee and spun in a circle. Hircus’ defensive swings were designed to back off his adversary by threatening the opponent’s chest and neck.

  “His blessing rises bile”

  Alerio was bent at the waist and extended over his own thigh. Hircus’ dual swords slashed over his head.

  “Takes your guile and style”

  Hircus grunted when Alerio’s blade entered the side of the mercenary’s stomach.

  “Furor is a trickster. Insanity embraced”

  The blade tilted with a snap of the wrist, ripping intestines from their internal moorings. Alerio’s sword finished the turn then cut its way out of the man’s belly.

  Hircus’ last dying act was to curl up around his gut before tumbling to the ground. Alerio glanced around to see if he was needed for the other fights. To his surprise, Civi and Abdicatus stood where he had last seen them. The three other soldiers of fortune also seemed glued in the same location as were the five house guards. They hadn’t moved. Everyone was staring at him and the dead sword master.

  “Carry on,” Alerio ordered.

  He fell back on his butt. From the street, he watched the house guards form a battle line. It was a little sloppy but just as effective as if they were young Legionaries. Then, his eyes closed and Centurion Sisera toppled over on his side.

  ***

  In the morning, a man-at-arms appeared at the headquarters of the city guard. He explained that arriving staff had reported finding five bodies at a side gate. Additionally, he insisted the household guards had nothing to do with the killings.

  Worried about the repercussions of dead men showing up at the gates of noblemen’s’ villas, the guard officer collected a squad and went to investigate.

  “Those are dead men,” the guard Sergeant confirmed. “I recognize one of them. His name is Abdicatus. He runs a crew of bodyguards for hire and does other dangerous work.”

  The guard Centurion’s boots crunched on the gravel as he crossed the street.

  “It appears the mercenary took on a job his crew couldn’t handle,” the officer suggested. “Do we know who he’s worked for recently?”

  The Optio glanced at the Subausterus house guards. Three stood next to the wall gate. One had a fresh bandage around his head.

  After thinking for a moment, the Guard Sergeant replied, “I’ll ask around, sir. But there’s no telling who hired him.”

  ***

  Across town, Alerio Sisera waited in the Villa’s great room. He had only finished half the mug of vino he’d been given when Belen beckoned him to follow. Down the hallway, the Senator’s secretary took the mug before allowing Alerio to enter the office.

  “Good morning, Centurion Sisera,” Senator Spurius Maximus greeted him. Then he leaned over his desk and inquired. “Do you require medical attention?”

  Alerio checked the wet bandage for leaks. The red remained in the center of the cloth and no blood escaped from the edges.

  “I’m fine, sir,” he replied to the former General. He placed the ornate sword down in front of Maximus and declared. “Mission accomplished. In the future, even the most desperate of men will think long and hard before invading your home.”

  “A man’s villa is his sanctuary,” Maximus declared. The General, as he liked to be called, indicated his war trophies on the wall by the door. “I fought many wars and political battles to earn my place. It riles me to think someone believed they could just walk in and threaten my staff.”

  Alerio glanced at the broken shields, spears, and swords mounted on the wall. All were keepsakes from the Samnite wars. And each item held memories for Spurius Maximus of glory, hard-fought battles, and long drawn out treaty and trade negotiations with tribal leaders.

  “I understand, General,” Alerio remarked after turning back to the Senator’s desk. “A strong message has been delivered. I believe it will get the attention of the proper people.”

  “A strong message has been delivered,” Spurius Maximus seemed to repeat Alerio’s words. “You are dismissed Centurion Sisera with gratitude from me and my staff.”

  ***

  Two hundred miles by road from the Capital, ten Samnites woke in the deep forest. They weren’t hunting or trapping or, even fishing in the mountain streams. Nor were they migrating through on their way to another location. In fact, they traveled light with just their skinning knives for weapons, hatchets, and light packs with supplies.

  All were fit young men known in their villages for their ability to run long distances. Other than that, they had nothing in common.

  “I’m chilled,” one stated. “I think a fire will warm my bones.”

  Without additional words, they banked sticks and started campfires. Once their salted venison was cooked, they ate. Then, one by one, they placed logs on the fires. Flames climbed to the height of a man, and yet they added more wood. They continued adding fuel until the flames touched the leaves of the highest branches.

  With a wall of flames roaring, the ten Samnites jogged away. Behind them a forest fire burned. Then the flames jumped from one tree to another until individual fire storms raged in the forest. By then, the ten tribesmen were far away and high up on the mountain.

  Unfortunately, the fire would hurt Tribune Subausterus financially and ruin his chances of landing a contract with the Republic to build warships. Indeed, a strong message had been delivered.

  The End

  A note from J. Clifton Slater

  You have finished the 10th book in this series. Thank you for supporting the Clay Warrior Stories and for making Alerio’s adventures a success.

&nbs
p; Let’s examine a few historical notes from Neptune’s Fury. Stifone, Italy is alleged to have been a boatyard for the Roman navy. Unfortunately, there are only a few pictures of the wide deep cut in the granite. Many pictures on the internet of Stifone are mislabeled as the shipyard. The actual work channel is further downstream, overgrown, and sadly not a registered historical site. The boatyard existed and the lack of written records by the efficient and meticulous Roman’s, hints that the base was a secret. The story told in Neptune’s Fury about the start of the boatyard is purely fictional.

  Research into the Agrigento siege presented several opportunities for stories but the events were spread out over a year. And as is the bane of historical adventure writers, other things were happening during that timeframe.

  According to Cassius Dio (155 AD – 235 AD) a Roman Historian - the relief army led by Carthage Admiral Hanno Gisco attacked the Legions believing General Hannibal Gisco would sally forth from the besieged city of Agrigento. Together they would engage and defeat the Romans.

  Somehow the leadership of the Legions learned of the attacks. Between ambushes from behind, and concentrated assaults, the Legions defeated Hanno Gisco’s forces while keeping Hannibal Gisco penned in the city. Hannibal would eventually breakout. In a daring nighttime action, his mercenary troops filled a section of the siege trench with straw bales. They dashed across and escaped.

  Looking back at Stifone and Agrigento, I could have named this book Deep Trenches. Alerio wishes you the blessing of Averruncus. May the ancient Roman god who averts calamity keep you safe. Until next time, I am J. Clifton Slater wishing you good health and happy reading.

  Books by J. Clifton Slater

  Clay Warrior Stories series

  #1 Clay Legionary

  #2 Spilled Blood

  #3 Bloody Water

  #4 Reluctant Siege

  #5 Brutal Diplomacy

  #6 Fortune Reigns