Rome's Tribune (Clay Warrior Stories Book 14)

by J. Clifton Slater

  “No sir, my business is on the Isle of Rhodes,” Alerio informed him. “And I think it would be best if I avoided Qart Hadasht ports.”

  “That is understandable considering the tensions between your two governments,” the Harbor Master remarked. “Rhodes you say. The island is rumored to be populated by people who are professional in all things,”

  “What does that mean?” Alerio asked.

  Rather than an answer, a gesture from the Master brought the secretary and a logbook to the couch. They conferred in short, clipped phrases. No doubt the vernacular used to keep the uninitiated in the dark as to the flow of ships into and out of Syracuse harbor.

  “Your best choice is to catch a ship to Peloponnese,” the Harbor Master recommended. “From there you can make your way to the island.”

  “When does one leave?” Alerio asked.

  “If Captain Tivadar follows his normal trading route, he should be here within the week,” the Master replied. “His seventy-five-foot corbita is one of the few merchant vessels with the size to cross the sea.”

  “I could use a recommendation for a place to stay in the meanwhile,” Alerio requested. While handing the Harbor Master several coins, he added. “Perhaps a room near Archimedes Phidias’ College.”

  The Master laughed.

  “Workshop is a better description,” he corrected. “Archimedes is inventive, I’ll give him that. But a philosopher with his own college. No, no.”

  “The recommendation?” Alerio reminded the Master.

  “Yes, of course,” the Harbor Master stated. “Try the Starfish Inn.”

  “Thank you,” Alerio acknowledged before turning about and marching to the exit.

  ***

  Across the city, three men entered the establishment next door to the Starfish Inn. Two were men-at-arms and the third a Judge for King Hiero the Second.

  “Metalworker, Dryas Chrysós?” the Judge inquired.

  “I am the metalsmith,” Dryas replied.

  “The King wishes a crown made for the Temple of Plutus,” the Judge explained. He placed three wrapped bars of metal on the counter. “The King will honor the God of Abundance and Wealth in seven days. This offering and dedication will assure the continued success of our city.”

  “Without a doubt,” Dryas agreed. Being a man of faith, he relished the opportunity to create a crown for a deity. Carefully, the metalsmith lifted the cloth and gazed at three bars of gold. Then with all his heart, he avowed. “The Crown of Plutus shall be the fairest coronet ever crafted by man.”

  “Well spoken, craftsman of Syracuse,” the Judge declared before the men left the store.

  In the doorway to the rear of the shop, but hidden behind a curtain, Febe Chrysós, wife to Dryas, eyed the gold with beady and greedy eyes.

  Chapter 11 – Natural Defenses

  Alerio looked out of the windows from the second-floor apartment. On one side of the flat, the Starfish Inn shared an alleyway with a metalsmith’s shop. To the front, the suite overlooked a busy main street.

  The abrupt change from sleeping in a tent or under the stars, but always close to the ground on a bedroll unnerved Alerio. For several months, he was surrounded by his men with little privacy. Now alone, he paced a room with a door, walls, and a ceiling. He missed the blue sky and the clouds overhead.

  To see the sky, he bent, looked out of a window, and upwards. From the uncomfortable position required to see the heavens, Alerio lowered his head and peered down into the alleyway. A cat slinked along the far wall, being on guard as it roamed the city.

  “I wonder if you would feel as trapped as me,” he whispered to the feral cat, “if someone enclosed you in an apartment?”

  He knew the uneasiness of adjusting to civilization would fade. But for now, he needed to get out of the room. Before he pulled back from the window, the cat’s tail dropped, and the beast arched its back.

  “Something frighten you?” Alerio questioned.

  A door to the alleyway opened, and a slightly stooped woman came shuffling from the metalsmith’s shop. Her posture matched the lines on a middle-aged face that once belonged to a very pretty girl. Also showing her age, her hips were wide. And as she ambled from the doorway, the movement of her legs under the dress material revealed thick thighs. Despite her matronly appearance, Alerio enjoyed his private observation of the woman.

  “I really have been campaigning too long,” he scolded himself.

  The cat leaped in the opposite direction and sprinted from the alleyway.

  “Good idea,” Alerio stated, agreeing with the cat that it was time to go.

  Then the stooped, plump woman transformed. Once the door closed, she threw her arms in the air and did a pirouette. Adding to the display of joy, she swung her hips suggestively, and pranced several paces along the alley before sashaying back to the doorway.

  “Attitude is everything,” Alerio offered to the room.

  As he had witnessed hundreds of times, a Legionary’s frame of mind reflected directly on his posture and performance. It seemed the woman was no different. Alone and unseen in the alley, she became vibrant and lively.

  “Good for you, lady,” Alerio complimented. “I’ll leave you to your private moment.”

  Before he could pull back, her mouth opened as if to scream and her eyes opened wide. Fearing she was about to be assaulted, Alerio did a mental inventory of the weapons on his person. Only the Golden Valley dagger, and it would not be a good idea to publicly use the assassin weapon of the Sweet Fist. If he were going to dash downstairs and help the woman, he would…

  She placed a fist at her lips and bit down on a knuckle to keep from shrieking with excitement. Her other arm extended and elevated, the hand cupped as if to caress a face.

  “You don’t seem to need rescuing,” Alerio teased. He wanted to leave the room and get away from the private drama, but his curiosity held him rooted to the floor.

  The delivery man was young. Tall and lean with broad shoulders, he walked to the woman and rested his cheek in her hand.

  “A son perhaps,” Alerio guessed. When the man stooped and delivered a passionate kiss on the woman’s mouth, and a lusty embrace to her entire body, Alerio revised his thinking. “No, not a son. A secret lover. Well, Syracuse is Greek, and the people certainly enjoy their dramatic plays.”

  With the mystery of the woman in the alley solved, Alerio strapped on his Noric steel dagger and left the apartment. He needed a tall cup of vino and an invitation to dinner. The wine because he was thirsty. The invitation, however, depended on locating the residence of Gabriella DeMarco.

  ***

  The two-story city home was taller than it was wide, and almost a city block long. An impressive residence in an upper-class neighborhood, it had taken a few questions and a good walk to locate it.

  After rapping on the door, Alerio stood on the stoop scanning the fronts of nearby buildings. As he had noted on his last visit to Syracuse, the variety of building materials incorporated in all the structures made the street resemble a mural.

  Brick, not as uniformed as bricks from the Republic, composed only a little of the construction. The rest consisted of painted mud and clay over wood, or granite, or lava stone, or stained wood. Mixed to form curious patterns on the facades, the materials made buildings in Syracuse works of art.

  When a servant opened the door, he faced her.

  “Master, can I help you?” the servant inquired.

  “Alerio Carvilius Sisera to see Gabriella DeMarco,” Alerio answered. His confidence came from having asked three different people for directions to the DeMarco residence. “Gabriella and I are old friends.”

  “Please wait there, sir,” the servant requested as she shut the door.

  The last time Alerio talked with her, Gabriella had denied any chance of a relationship. Her excuse being he was too committed to the Legion to be involved with her or any woman. And she didn’t want to wait at home for a notification of his death or disfigurement. As a T
ribune the chance of injury dropped considerably, but not the months of being away from home or the possibility of death in battle. He had just thought through the infallibility of her arguments when the door opened.

  Alerio’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he forgot her logic and his decorum. In the depth of his heart he wanted to reach out and embrace her like the delivery guy who kissed the lady in the alleyway.

  “Centurion Sisera, what a pleasant surprise,” Gabriella greeted him with a smile. “Please come in.”

  The arch above her nose perfectly framed the brown of her eyes. Even in late afternoon, her eyes captured the sparkle of early morning light and the promise of a new day. She pivoted sideways to allow him to pass. In the graceful turn, her profile revealed the touch of Venus in her face.

  “Tribune,” Alerio stammered.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “I am a Tribune, now,” he said sounding like a raw recruit speaking to his training Optio. “I mean, I am a staff officer.”

  “Does that prevent you from coming inside?” she teased. “Is there a regulation against ceilings?”

  “Well, no, I just,” Alerio mumbled. Then he clamped his mouth shut, crossed the threshold, and moved deeper into the foyer.

  “Congratulations on your promotion,” she offered while closing the door.

  “More than that, I was adopted by Senator Maximus,” Alerio informed her. “You are looking at a lucky man who happens to be rich.”

  “How wealthy?” she inquired while putting her hands on her supple hips.

  Sensing a challenge, Alerio paused before answering.

  “I am a partner in a travertine quarry, and part of a trading agreement to bring iron ore to the Capital for blades,” he listed. “Plus, the inheritor of the Senator’s lands and property. Why do you ask?”

  “Just checking to see if you are too important to ride on a wagon with me,” Gabriella told him. “I suppose we could find you a horse so you can ride high and gaze down on the common folks.”

  “No, no,” Alerio insisted. “I am, I am simply lucky. I certainly did not mean to use expressions that conveyed an admiration for the Goddess Petulantia. There was no intent of arrogance or bragging on my part.”

  “If you say so,” Gabriella smirked. “I have to deliver the evening meal to Nicholas and Archimedes. Would you like to ride with me?”

  “Yes, I would,” Alerio responded.

  “Come. You can help load the baskets,” Gabriella proposed. She bumped his shoulder as she passed him and inquired. “That’s not to lowly a task for a Legion staff officer, is it?”

  Her touch weakened his knees and he stood immobilized for a moment. But she turned at the far end of the room and flashed a smile at him. The joyous expression freed his feet, and he crossed the room quickly. They exited a side door, crossed a courtyard, and entered the cook shed together.

  ***

  The horse was spirited and stepped high and quickly. Too quickly for Alerio’s taste. It wasn’t that he disliked the beast. It was just a quick trip would separate his hip from Gabriella’s when they reached their destination.

  “The King asked Archimedes to refresh the defenses of Fort Euryalus,” she explained as the wagon rolled northwest from the center of the city. “Nicholas and the inventor have been out there working for two weeks.”

  “I’ve seen the fortifications from outside the walls,” Alerio told her. “They are tall, thick, and formidable. But I didn’t notice a fort. Only a few buildings right behind the wall.”

  “Once Archimedes had the contract to improve the fort,” she explained. “He and my brother sat up all night describing possibilities.”

  “I suppose you were there to capture their ideas on paper,” Alerio joked.

  He didn’t for a moment expect that she stayed up all night drawing the inventor’s thoughts on paper. She did that for her brother because most people could not follow Nicholas’ thinking. But surely, the famous Archimedes would have assistants.

  “I did,” Gabriella admitted. “They used up my stock of paper, and it almost caused me to miss an appointment with a client.”

  “You have clients?” Alerio questioned. “Of course, you do, for your leather business.”

  “No Sisera. When my brother and I arrived in Syracuse, I discovered a need for an interpretive artist,” she explained. When Alerio twisted up his face in confusion, Gabriella described an example. “Say a husband wants a jeweler to make a brooch for his wife. But his attempt to tell a metalsmith what he wants fails. The man refuses to pay for the brooch because it doesn’t look like the one, he envisioned in his mind.”

  “You draw the idea on paper and the smith makes the brooch from the picture,” Alerio summed up. “There is a metalsmith next door to the Starfish Inn.”

  “Master Craftsman Dryas Chrysós,” Gabriella reported the name of the shop owner.

  “Does he have a daughter or a sister?” Alerio asked remembering the lady in the alleyway.

  “Dryas has a wife and no other family,” Gabriella told him. “But Febe Chrysós is not anyone’s prize.”

  “Ugly, is she?” Alerio questioned.

  “No. Febe, for her age, is still attractive,” Gabriella corrected. “She is just not a happy woman.”

  “I saw a plump lady meeting a deliveryman in the alley next to the Starfish Inn,” Alerio told her. “They were closer than passing acquaintances. Like us.”

  Gabriella snapped the reigns and the horse started up the backside of a hills. At the top, Alerio saw a collection of buildings with low roofs.

  “If that is Fort Euryalus,” he remarked, “I don’t see a lot of construction.”

  “And you won’t,” she told him. “Archimedes is focused on the defenses.”

  The wagon pulled up in front of one of the buildings and a servant began unloading the baskets of food.

  “Come Sisera,” Gabriella offered while climbing down from the wagon, “I’ll introduce you to Archimedes Phidias.”

  ***

  From the top of the hill, Alerio could see the enormous walls of Syracuse stretching off into the distance to his right. To his left, the wall ran behind him heading for the swamp and eventually to the beach at Syracuse bay. But no wall filled the corner where the fort stood.

  “You have opened the city to invasion,” an older man in a military tunic complained. “We are doomed with this foolish plan.”

  He spoke to a slim man who appeared younger than thirty years old. Alerio couldn’t tell how tall because the man stood in a wide trench below a short wall. Other trenches ran for a short way before zigzagging and converging with another ditch as equally twisted.

  “General. If you have a plan please take it to the King,” the man called from the bottom of the trench.

  “The King only has eyes for your drawings,” the General complained.

  “Then leave me in peace and allow me to do the job I was hired to do,” the man said as he began climbing a ladder.

  “Archimedes, I have brought supper,” Gabriella shouted to him. “Nicholas, food. The both of you, climb out of your digs. You need your strength.”

  A ladder materialized on the side of another ditch and Nicholas DeMarco’s head appeared.

  Upon seeing Alerio, Gabriella’s brother cried out, “Centurion Alerio Sisera of the Republic’s Legion, welcome. What do you think of our defenses?”

  “Those will be almost impossible to decipher from below,” Alerio informed him. “I would not attempt a breach at this location.”

  “What are you seeing that I am missing?” the General demanded. “I apologize. I am Pelle, General of the city’s defenses. If you are a military man, please explain how you can call this bad excavation a fortification.”

  Archimedes and Nicholas met at a flat area above the trenches, turned their backs to the fort, and began pointing to other ditches.

  “Archimedes and Nicholas, it is time to eat,” Gabriella instructed. “You can work later, once your be
llies are full.”

  The two men turned and Alerio noted the same vacant look in Archimedes’ eyes that he had observed in Nicholas’ eyes. The two men thought differently from the average man and saw possibilities where others saw mundane objects. When Gabriella said she was taking her brother to Syracuse to study with an inventor, Alerio didn’t understand. Now he did.

  “They dismantled our wall and replaced the high with the low,” Pelle complained.

  “The parabolas create a better defense,” Archimedes stated as he walked by heading for a table being set with food.

  “Intersecting triangles funnel the water to pools below the walls,” Nicholas described while walking with the inventor. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as if he had explained everything. “Sisera, dine with us.”

  “Lady DeMarco, can you help out an old campaigner,” Pelle begged. “What are they talking about?”

  “Tribune Sisera, you said you would not suggest a breach here,” Gabriella solicited. “Tell General Peel why.”

  “An approaching enemy when confronted with your walls General, will focus on your gates,” Alerio described. He neglected to inform Pelle that a few years before, he had stood at one of the gates with a Legion. If King Hiero hadn’t negotiated, Alerio would have been part of the force attacking the walls.

  “We have ballistae and onagers targeting the gates,” Pele said defensively. “No one can take our walls.”

  “I could tell you three ways the Legion could defeat your barrier,” Alerio assured him. “But if I saw the fort and no walls, I would attack at this location. At least I would have before I stood above the works.”

  “What are you seeing that I am not?” Pelle requested.

  “A natural defense,” Alerio replied. “From the fields down there, it seemed simple to line up and feed men into the trenches. But your artillery will hurt the reserves and force them back. In the meanwhile, what appears to be a simple line of ditches, will funnel my men into tight boxes where your archers and spearmen can butcher us. And for those who survive the missiles, you’ll free water from reservoirs creating deep pools. I only realized that item from Nickolas’ description.”