“Food?” Alerio mentioned. “I don’t know about you, but I like a good meal before I am condemned to death.”
“How many times have you been sentenced to die?” one of the Hoplites asked.
“I don’t recall how many exactly,” Alerio told them as he stopped at a stall selling fresh pork. “But I remember being hungry for a lot of them.”
The pork came wrapped in leaves. As the three peeled back the wrapping and nibbled, they strolled through the marketplace.
“So, death,” the other guard inquired, “it isn’t scary for you?”
“How could it be?” Alerio replied. “I’m still alive.”
As they walked, Alerio kept watch for a means of escape. Not simply getting away from the guards, that would be easy. He needed a way off the Isle of Rhodes. Before he thought of a route out, a commotion from the harbor side of the market drew his attention.
Evzen Niels and two other naval officers charged up the road.
“Bring him,” he ordered the guards as he came from between the booths.
“What’s the rush, Lieutenant?” one of Alerio’s Hoplite guards asked.
“Another trio of warships just rowed in,” he replied. “They signaled emergency. I want this man tried and sentenced before my father, ah, Chief Magistrate Niels, gets busy with another project.”
The group pushed through the crowd heading for the government building.
“Too bad we were interrupted,” Alerio notified the guards. “I was getting thirsty.”
“Do you get thirsty when you are condemned?” one asked.
“No. In this case,” Alerio advised, “the pork made me thirsty.”
***
The government building had extensive walkways, wide doorways, and large rooms. Light and air flooded the building although the atmosphere was not the reason for the design. As a Democracy, the building needed to accommodate large crowds of adult male citizens when important issues needed to be discussed. There was nothing major on the day’s agenda, so the office of the peoples’ representative was mostly empty.
“Now look here Kolya,” Pasi Vasil complained to the Chief Magistrate. “You know I swing a large block of votes. All I am asking is that you shave a few bronze coins off my taxes from shipments to Macedonia.”
“Let’s say, I ignore a few transports,” Kolya Niels replied. “Can you help me build a new village in the country?”
“Say yes and I’ll have the corner stones delivered tomorrow,” Pasi promised.
“I think we can work out a fair…” Kolya Niels started but he was interrupted.
His son, and a crowd of officers, two Hoplites and a Latian piled through the doorway.
“I was just concluding an appointment,” Niels scolded his son.
“This Latian put his hands on an officer of the Navy,” Evzen Niels declared while ignoring his father’s tone. “And he put a blade to the officer’s throat. I was going to execute him on the spot, but Commander Izador stopped me.”
“Pasi, excuse me for a moment,” the Chief Magistrate explained to his visitor.
“Certainly Kolya, I believe we are done,” Pasi Vasil stated. “I’ll just step to the back of the room and watch you dispense justice.”
“Thank you for your understanding, citizen,” Kolya Niels said to Pasi. Then turning to his son, he asked. “Who was the assaulted officer? Have him step forward and I will hear the complaint.”
“It was me,” Evzen announced. “I brought witnesses. I want the Latian drowned. Today, if possible.”
“Hold on,” the Chief Magistrate ordered. Looking at Alerio, he asked. “Who are you?”
“Tribune Alerio Carvilius Sisera, military attaché from the Roman Republic,” Alerio replied. He held up his orders and a note from Consul Calatinus. “I have letters of introduction.”
One of the naval officers snatched the missives from Alerio’s hand and walked them to the Chief Magistrate. While the Magistrate read the papers, the group shifted nervously. Mostly, it was in reaction to Evzen Niels pacing in front of his father.
“You attacked an officer of the Rhodian Navy?” Kolya Niels inquired. “And you held a blade against Lieutenant Niels’ throat? Are these assertions true, Tribune Sisera?”
“I did not draw my weapon at the insult,” Alerio described. “I drew it after the Lieutenant drew his sword and attempted to skew me.”
“What insult?” the Magistrate inquired.
“Something about me puckering up and kissing cōleī,” Alerio explained. “Again, I did not respond to the insult.”
The Chief Magistrate turned on his son.
“You said that to a diplomatic representative?” he asked.
“He is just another scholar come to beg you for favors,” Lieutenant Niels sneered. “Unimportant and arrogant. Sentence him, and let’s all get on with our day.”
Chief Magistrate Niels’ face turned red and for everyone in the room his anger was noticeable.
“Magistrate, magistrate,” another Navy Lieutenant called for attention while rushing through the doorway. “We need to send for Pasi Vasil.”
“Hold on. This is the second time I have been interrupted,” the Magistrate grumbled. “Let me finish one meeting before starting another. Now everyone be silent.”
But the room didn’t go quiet.
“What is it Lieutenant?” Pasi Vasil asked as he rushed from the back of the room. “Why send for me?”
“Master Vasil. One of your transports was taken by Cilician pirates,” the naval officer responded.
“Where? Which one?” Pasi demanded.
“Off the coast of Crete,” the Lieutenant reported. “And sir, it was the Good Themis.”
Pasi Vasil’s knees failed him. Sobbing, the merchant sank to the floor.
“Pasi, what is the matter?” Chief Magistrate Niels asked.
“Symeon was on the transport,” Pasi whined. “My Symeon. Oh, my Symeon.”
Alerio leaned towards one of the guards.
“Who is Symeon?” he asked.
“Master Vasil’s oldest son,” the guard answered. “Pasi traveled on business for years, dedicating himself to commerce and didn’t marry. When he did, it took years before he had a son.”
“How old is the boy?” Alerio questioned.
“Symeon Vasil is twelve,” the guard informed him.
“Oh, Hades,” Alerio swore.
“Exactly,” the guard replied.
“They took the youngest and strongest crewmen. The others they left on the beach,” the naval officer who delivered the news described. “Luckily, my ship was patrolling the coast when we spotted the survivors. That was two days ago.”
“We need to launch the fleet,” Pasi Vasil suggested. “We can finally clean out that nest of vipers on Antikythera. But mostly, I want my son back.”
“Send for the Admiral,” the Chief Magistrate instructed. “And take Sisera to the cells. I’ll get to his punishment when the crisis is over.”
The guard gently shoved Alerio. Rather than going with the hint, the Legion officer shoved back.
“If you send in your fleet, your assault elements will get stalled at the wall. The boy will be killed along with the other prisoners,” Alerio yelled as he pushed and broke away from the Hoplites. “And if you take too long to plan and organize, he will be shipped to Qart Hadasht territory and sold at the slave market.”
At the mention of both fates, Pasi Vasil cried out for his son.
“And you have a better idea?” Magistrate Niels challenged.
“I do,” Alerio replied. “Send me in to rescue the boy.”
“Why would I do that?” the Magistrate inquired.
“Because I am an officer in the Republic’s Legion, and I need to open negotiations with the Isle of Rhodes,” Alerio explained. “What better way to endear myself. Plus, being on a mission is more desirable than rotting in a cell.”
“No. No, I forbid it,” Evzen Niels shouted. “You cannot…”
; “Get him out of my office,” the Chief Magistrate ordered. The two guards reached for Alerio. But the senior Niels redirected them. “No, not him. My son. Get Lieutenant Niels out of my office.”
Bellowing and complaining the Magistrate’s progeny was hauled from the government building. When things quieted down, Kolya Niels looked into Alerio’s eyes.
“What do you need,” he asked, “to rescue my friend’s son?”
“A coastal trading vessel,” Alerio responded, “and the use of Commander Izador and his warship.”
“I can assign you an entire fleet,” the Magistrate protested.
“This requires stealth, not a display of power,” Alerio told him. “At least not until the display is needed.”
***
Commander Izador thought it curious when Sisera, the Latian, came jogging towards the harbor. Behind him the two guards trotted but did not seem to be gaining on the Tribune. Thinking him an escaped prisoner, the Commander started to call to Lieutenant Perseus Archos, the First Officer of his second warship. Before he voiced his concerns, Sisera reached the end of the pavers and dropped onto the beach.
“Are you running from the sentencing?” Izador inquired from the deck of his warship. “If so, you’ve picked your path poorly.”
“An interesting choice of wording, Commander,” Alerio commented as he stopped and peered up at Izador. “I may have picked the wrong path for both of us. But at the time, it seemed like the right thing to do.”
“You have my attention,” Izador admitted. “What path are we taking?”
A messenger raced down the street, leaped to the sand, and sprinted to the warship. Scrambling aboard, he handed the Commander a note.
“A message from Chief Magistrate Niels,” Izador described. After reading it, he waved the paper and asked. “What do you need Sisera?”
“A visit to the market, a dugout canoe, a coastal trader filled with grain, two brave men I can trust and who will follow orders,” Alerio replied. “Plus, you and your three warships.”
“The obvious question then,” Izador queried, “is where do you want this tiny flotilla to gather?”
“Menies Beach,” Alerio answered, “on the northwest arm of Crete.”
Chapter 24 – Infiltrating Antikythera
Two trihemiolias rowed into the cove, maneuvered around, and back stroked for the beach. They aimed for either side of a third warship already high and dry on the narrow shoreline.
“I hope that meets your needs,” Izador remarked.
The Commander indicated one of the warships. Tied to the top deck was a papyrus reed boat.
“No sail or mast?” Alerio questioned.
“For those features you need a fishing boat,” Izador explained. “You wanted small. With small, you get a single rear oar. That type of boat rows up and down the Nile by the hundreds every day. And they are used as ceremonial boats for wealthy families.”
“That is a river,” Alerio pointed out. “This is the sea. And I don’t plan on any type of ceremony.”
“You can’t sink a papyrus boat,” Izador stated in defense of the choice. “The reeds float, although they will burn. Besides, at sea you don’t have to worry about river crocodiles.”
“Only sharks and other demons from the depths,” Alerio responded.
A twenty-five-foot coastal trader rowed into the cove. One of the crewmen rowed with a pair of oars from midship while the other rocked a rear oar from side to side adding propulsion and guidance.
“Anything bad to say about the trader?” Izador inquired.
“No, it is the perfect boat,” Alerio told him. “Maybe a little too clean for the mission.”
“What now?” Izador questioned.
“I think if the crews from the warships clean their fish on the deck,” Alerio told him. “It should be ready for tonight.”
The trader slipped in between two warships and the men jumped into the water and pushed it ashore. With wet legs, they marched up the beach to Izador.
“Commander, the boat handles well, and the hull is solid,” one reported.
“Tribune Sisera, this is Lieutenant Perseus Archos,” Izador introduced the crew. “And the big man is Sergeant Teppo Petya.”
“Good to meet you,” Alerio added. “Now, go find older more distressed clothing.”
“Commander Izador. Are we taking orders from a Latian?” Perseus asked.
“Yes, Lieutenant Archos, you are,” Izador assured him. “But maybe the Tribune could explain before issuing statements as orders.”
Alerio realized he was focused on himself. It wasn’t wrong seeing as he was a long way from Legion support, comrades, or even friendly companionship. But he needed these men to perform and for that they needed a clearer picture of their part.
“We need to appear desperate,” Alerio told them. “Desperate enough to row into a pirate settlement to trade goods which might have been stolen.”
“We will appear to be minor brigands doing business with the only market open to us,” Perseus Archos summed up the cover.
Alerio and Izador nodded their agreement.
“When do we leave, Tribune Sisera?” Sergeant Teppo Petya inquired.
“Just before sundown,” Alerio answered. “We have thirty miles of open water to cross. I hope your navigation skills are up to the task, Lieutenant.”
“I am an officer in the Rhodian Navy,” Perseus boasted. “The sea and stars are as familiar to me as the face of my father.”
***
In the moonlight, the sheer rocks rising from the water appeared black and blank as the mouth of a cave. But the low light allowed Alerio to guide the papyrus boat to a fissure with a slope in the back. Between the rocks, he used his hands to guide the boat.
Once at the back of the crevice, he climbed to shore and pulled the boat up out of the sea. Then he checked the location from several angles before slipping by the boat and dropping back into the water. The vessel constructed of papyrus remained behind.
“I don’t understand,” Lieutenant Archos complained when Alerio pulled himself into the coastal trader, “why you brought the boat only to leave it here.”
“A lot depends on what we find in the settlement. The stashed boat might be our way off the island. Or something else,” he replied. Then to the shadowy figure of Sergeant Petya, he advised. “Let’s go play with the Cilicians.”
Teppo and Alerio dipped oars and powered the boat around the knot of land. Not long after leaving the location of the papyrus boat, they entered a cove where embers from campfires glowed on the shoreline.
“Xiropotamos Beach,” Alerio mentioned. “Remember, we have been here since sundown.”
“But we are just arriving,” Perseus advised. “Who is going to believe that we’ve been here all night?”
“Hopefully, enough people so everyone thinks we’ve been vetted,” Alerio replied. “Stay with the plan. Now hush up and steer.”
At first, the island of Antikythera loomed over them from one side. But as they rowed closer to Xiropotamos beach the stars were blocked from view on three sides by the land rising above the cove.
The coastal trader gently touched the rocky sand. Alerio and Teppo slid into the cove, spun the boat, and shoved it out of the water and onto the island. Then, quietly, they climbed back into the boat and stretched out on the deck.
A few light sleepers on other ships noted the disturbance. But, after deciding the newly arrived boat presented no threat, they rolled over and went back to sleep. Higher on the beach, the boat did not register with the men sprawled around the dying campfires. When the beach settled and snoring and coughing resumed, Alerio pulled a cape over his shoulders and placed a hat on his head then dropped from the boat. Slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping boat crews, he worked his way off the beach and up towards the town.
***
‘This slope is a man killer,’ Alerio thought while climbing. ‘Cilician archers, spearmen, and slingers stationed at the top could drop rocks, arrows
and spears, as well as rolling barrels full of rock, down on arriving Rhodian transports. Before the invasion force could organize and begin the assault, injured infantrymen would litter the beach. Win or lose, blood, bones, and funerals were the cost to take Antikythera by force.’
At the top of the rise he stopped, and despite the morbid images he visualized while climbing, Alerio smiled. Fire pits glowed at a gateway marking the entrance through the defensive wall. But it wasn’t the fires that thrilled the Legion staff officer.
Tribune Alerio Sisera strolled to the entrance and approached the sleeping sentry.
“Who is on guard duty?” he inquired while tapping the man’s shoulder.
The sentry’s eyes fluttered open.
“I am,” he blustered. After taking in the expensive cape and hat, he added. “I wasn’t sleeping, Captain, I swear.”
“That’s good. Because punishment for sleeping on watch is not pretty,” Alerio warned. He added a shake of an accusing finger in the man’s face. “Have you seen anything suspicious tonight?”
“No Captain,” the guard assured him.
Alerio touched the brim of his petasos in salute and moved to the gateway. The market at Rhodes had a wide variety of goods. Although he overpaid for the beaver felt hat, and the rich cloak, the items had just paid for themselves. Unchallenged, Alerio ambered into the Cilician settlement as if he belonged there.
***
Locating Symeon Vasil required four steps. The first three revolved around finding the crew who captured the transport, Good Themis. Although four days had elapsed, Alerio knew from experience any team coming off a successful mission celebrated, and the hardier pirates would still be bragging about taking a major merchant ship. And still be boasting about plans for their share when the captives were sold.
Having infiltrated the settlement, Alerio began the second step. For this phase, he let his ears do the searching. Strolling and listening, he remained attuned to the sounds of the pirate haven. In the middle of the night, the revelries should be identifiable by the level of noise they made. When he heard loud voices a few doors down, Alerio headed for the establishment.
Rome's Tribune (Clay Warrior Stories Book 14) Page 21