Rome's Tribune (Clay Warrior Stories Book 14)

by J. Clifton Slater

  The most difficult part of his search was about to begin. How to stay sober while pursuing information about the Vasil boy.

  ***

  Inside the tavern, the bar was constructed of ship’s planks stretched over pedestals of stacked stone. And as he’s seen from the Gála as it sailed by the island, there was no roof. In this place the owner didn’t even try. He counted on a beautiful display of stars for a ceiling.

  “What will you have?” an old man asked.

  “The last time I was in, I was disappointed with the beer,” Alerio lied.

  “Then you’ll be having the mead,” the bartender offered.

  Alerio slid a bronze coin onto the planks, took a clay mug of the beverage, and went to an empty seat. At the next table, four men drank and talked.

  “You would think they brought down a squadron of those Rhodian Navy warships,” one man complained.

  “But they are buying drinks,” another offered.

  “If you can stomach the bragging,” a third stated.

  Alerio’s premise proved correct. Capturing a prized transport caused an extended celebration. After a few more sips, he spilled half of the mead on the ground behind his back.

  “I’m going to bed,” he told the bartender. “Late night guard duty is terrible for the nerves.”

  “You must be one of Captain Mirza’s boys,” the old tavern keeper suggested.

  “I must be,” Alerio replied.

  He left the pub and began cruising. He now had a Captains name and confidence that he could find the right crew.

  ***

  The third pub he entered held six customers. All looking as if they hadn’t bathed, eaten, or sobered up in the last four days. Then, Alerio heard golden words.

  “I am going to buy a piece of land,” a private exclaimed. “Once Captain Parviz sells the ship and the sailors, I’m taking my coins and buying land.”

  Not only was Alerio in the correct tavern, but he also had the name of the pirate Captain who took the boy.

  “Wine,” he ordered from the proprietor.

  “I don’t recognize you,” the bartender remarked.

  “I’m the new man on Mirza’s crew,” Alerio told him using the Captain’s name he heard at the first pub, “and I just got off guard duty. If my coin isn’t good here, I’ll go where it’s wanted.”

  A voice called from across the room, “You on Mirza’s crew?”

  “Yes,” Alerio confirmed. He turned to face the man. “Is that a problem? The bar keeper has already kicked me out.”

  “Not yet he hasn’t,” the man declared. Then he invited Alerio. “Come drink with us.”

  “You sail with Captain Parviz?” Alerio guessed.

  “You are new,” another man proposed. “Everyone knows our crew and what we did.”

  Alerio arrived at the table and poured a mug of wine.

  “Like I said,” Alerio reminded, “I am new. Tell me what you did.”

  “What we did?” the six men roared. “We captured the Good Themis. And took eight crewmen and a boy captive.”

  “A boy,” Alerio repeated. “He’ll fetch a good price at the Qart Hadasht slave market.”

  “See that’s what I’ve been saying,” one slurred. “With my cut, I am going to buy a piece of land.”

  Alerio settled in for another difficult part of his search. Staying sober while keeping the pirates talking.

  ***

  According to the six pirates, each of them vaulted onto the merchant vessel, fought hand-to-hand with the merchant crew, and singlehandedly captured the ship. Alerio listened to tales of heroism and personal sacrifice. It was all very thrilling and mostly lies.

  “What did Captain Parviz do with the prisoners?” Alerio inquired while pouring another mug.

  His offhanded question seemed innocent, but he listened intently for the answer.

  “The Captain stowed them in the pen at the top of the hill,” one replied.

  Alerio waited for a little longer before excusing himself.

  “I have early duty tomorrow,” Alerio declared. Then he stood and announced. “Congratulations on the prize ship.”

  He left the tavern to hoots and hollers from the crew. Outside, Alerio breathed deeply to clear his head before heading uphill. He had three of the steps to saving Symeon Vasil completed. He had infiltrated the settlement, knew who held the boy, and a general idea of where Symeon Vasil was being held.

  While walking to the next tier of the town, Alerio tried to remember the layout of the settlement. His quick glance in the daylight from out at sea didn’t help. With stone walls on either side and the rough street under his feet, he moved upward looking for anything resembling a pen.

  At an intersection, Alerio noticed three men coming from a side road. He paused and made exaggerated movements as if looking for something.

  “You lost?” one of the men inquired.

  “My Captain sent me to help Captain Parviz,” he explained. “But I can’t find the pens where the merchant crew is being held. I’m late.”

  “Your Captain doesn’t like you very much does he,” one of them teased.

  “I don’t know,” Alerio admitted.

  “At the top of this street, turn left, and follow your nose,” another replied.

  The three laughed as they walked away.

  ‘Are they laughing at me,’ Alerio pondered. ‘Or at the directions, or the assignment?’

  Taking advantage of the only clue he had, Alerio started uphill, sniffing as he climbed.

  ***

  Alerio’s nose alerted him and he slid into the shelter of a stone wall and peered around the corner.

  Rotting slop on a still summer night gave the air a unique fragrance. And explained why the hog pens were located high above the town. If placed at a lower elevation, the stink would hang in the air. However, allowing the wind to clear the aroma by blowing it over the crest of a hill did not justify the presence of two guards. The value of pork might have warranted a single sentry to prevent theft. But two meant they were guarding something more.

  So far, nothing Alerio had done would anger the pirates. Sneaking, information gathering, and reconnaissance were benign practices. With the discovery of where Symeon Vasil was being held, the steps of infiltrating Antikythera ended.

  Alerio could return to Rhodes, report that Symeon lived, but a rescue was too dangerous for both him and the boy. Or Tribune Sisera could go tactical and perform acts that would enrage the Cilician settlement. To that end, he left the hog pen area and moved across town heading northward.

  Chapter 25 – Ceremonial Boat

  The defensive wall on the North side of town lacked height. As Alerio scaled the barrier, he stored the fact away in case he got involved in an assault on the island. Once among the rocky landscape and low brush, he studied the terrain for recognizable features.

  It took investigating four little inlets before locating the papyrus boat. When he found it, the Tribune lifted a lamp from the bottom of the vessel, broke the seal, and splashed oil around the inside. When the reeds dripped with excess oil, Alerio set the lamp in the bottom of the boat. Stretching reed fibers over the wick stopper to hold the lamp in place, Alerio struck flint and lit the wick. To keep from disturbing the lamp, he eased the boat into the water and gave it a gentle push. Then he ran for the wall, the town, and the boy.

  ***

  There were two sentries for a pen of hogs and a pen of humans but nothing else. As undisciplined troops are likely to do, the pirates sat together for company. And they had their backs to the street. On one hand, keeping their eyes on the prisoners and the pork made sense.

  On the other hand, Alerio came out of the dark unnoticed.

  Requiring precision, the smaller blade needed to silence and pacify with a quick thrust. From the side, the knife punctured the guard’s windpipe, silencing him. A snap of Alerio’s wrist ripped the blade out through the front of the guard’s throat. That prevented him from fighting back.

 
The gladius required less accuracy but more force. In a vertical chop, the blade cut the hair and skin on the back of the guard’s neck. Passing easily through the muscles, the Noric steel hewed completely through the bones in the second guard’s neck.

  Alerio sheathed both weapons and squatted beside the bodies. Voices carried from a block away, but none sounded an alarm. After waiting for a few moments to be sure he wouldn’t have company, Alerio relaxed. But he had two problems, hiding the bodies, and freeing the prisoners. Leaving the bodies at the pen was not an option. Anyone walking by could see the dead men and raise an alarm.

  It might have been the lack of sleep, the wine, the weeks of traveling, or simply a blessing from Coalemus, the God of the Stupid. In any case, Alerio carried the bodies to the hog pen and dumped them over the rail. Then he rushed to the human pen, but too late, the commotion began.

  For a farm boy, it was unforgivable. The sows and boars discovered the flesh and began an orgy of feeding. Complete with loud aggressive grunting and manic squealing, the swine announced an event at the pens.

  “Symeon Vasil, are you here?” Alerio asked in a voice above conversational level. It was necessary to be heard over the noises coming from the pig pen.

  “I am here, sir,” a small, frightened voice replied.

  “Give me your hand boy,” Alerio instructed. “I’m taking you home to your father.”

  “He ain’t going nowhere with you, pirate,” a male voice in the corner of the human pen stated.

  “We don’t have time for a democratic debate,” Alerio warned. “Or a vote. I’ve removed the guards and you are free to go. But if you fight me, I will leave you here bleeding and still take the boy.”

  The man, obviously a crewman or a ship’s officer from the Good Themis, demanded, “What’s his father’s name?”

  “Pasi Vasil spent his youth building his business,” Alerio recited the litany the Hoplite guard told him. “Master Vasil married later in life and didn’t have a son for years. Until Symeon came along. Can we go now?”

  A shape much smaller than a grown man slipped from the back of the pen.

  “Please, sir. I want to go home,” Symeon begged.

  “We will do that little man,” Alerio assured him.

  Eight men came forward from the pen.

  “What about us?” the ship’s officer inquired.

  “I can only take the boy,” Alerio informed him. “But I can tell you, the pirates will be launching their ships tonight, so stay away from the beaches. Gather food and hide until tomorrow night. Then steal a boat and row for Crete.”

  “The Cilicians will catch us before we can reach a town with a garrison,” one of the crewmen complained. “They’ll cut our bellies open and feed us to the sharks.”

  “You get to the shores of Crete,” Alerio assured them, “and the Rhodian Navy will be there waiting to greet the Cilicians.”

  “Who are you?” the ship’s officer asked. “Where are you from?”

  “I am Tribune Alerio Sisera from Rome,” Alerio answered. “Now go, before we have to fight our way through four thousand pirates.”

  The crewmen sprinted to the south in the direction of the beach. Alerio, with a hand on the boy’s shoulder, stood still.

  “Aren’t we going with them?” Symeon inquired.

  “Commander Izador promised me an example of analytical thinking,” Alerio replied. “But the crewmen just demonstrated a lack of it. Didn’t I warn them the pirates were going to launch their ships tonight?”

  “You did, sir,” the boy answered. “But it’s very quiet. Perhaps the crew thought to escape before the pirates stirred.”

  “Or they didn’t believe me. Or maybe they didn’t listen and think about what I said,” Alerio remarked. Rotating the boy until he faced north, Alerio dropped the felt petasos on Symeon’s head and urged. “Walk slowly so we don’t draw attention to ourselves.”

  Resembling an older brother out for a stroll with his younger sibling, they strolled northward. They were two blocks from the pens when shouts of alarm broke out. Running feet filled the streets as angry pirates searched for the escapees. Before the Cilicians reached Alerio, he hoisted Symeon to the top of the north wall.

  “There is nothing here,” the boy commented when they were both on the far side of the barrier. “Except a view of the sea.”

  “That is the point,” Alerio confirmed.

  He untied the dark cape and fluffed it overhead. As the billowing cloth settled, Alerio pulled the boy down beside him. Covered with the dark material, they could have been any rock on the island of Antikythera.

  “How long will we stay here, sir?” Symeon asked.

  “Until the pirates tell us it’s time to move,” Alerio replied.

  “Why would they do that?” the boy gasped.

  On the other side of the wall voices announced the arrival of search parties.

  “See anything?”

  “No and I don’t expect to.”

  “Why?” a voice questioned from directly behind and overhead of Alerio and Symeon.

  The pirate was leaning over the wall probably scanning the land outside the settlement.

  “If I were them,” the man on the wall replied, “I’d head for the beach and try to find a boat to steal.”

  “We have crews searching at both beaches,” the second voice added.

  This time his voice came in clear enough to show he had climbed onto the defensive wall as well. Symeon Vasil shivered in fright. Alerio eased an arm up and over the boy’s shoulder trying to comfort him.

  “What is that?” the first voice insisted.

  Symeon froze and his teeth chattered in fright.

  “What?” the second asked.

  “There, offshore,” the first instructed. “It’s a floating beacon. Must be a signal to a larger ship.”

  “Captain Parviz needs to know they are escaping by boat.”

  The sound of running feet faded as the search parties raced to the south, the beaches, and their boats.

  “How did you know?” Symeon questioned.

  Alerio opened the front of the cape. Out on the water, the papyrus boat blazed in the night. From high up, it did appear to be a signal fire on a boat escaping the island. But Alerio understood there were no other boats out on the water watching for the flame. And he knew the boat made of reeds was consuming itself and would eventually vanish. Hopefully, not before all the pirate boats from the beaches rowed out searching for the crew of the Good Themis.

  “I didn’t know,” Alerio admitted, “But I had faith.”

  “Now what, Tribune?” the boy asked.

  “We keep the faith,” Alerio replied, “and head for the water.”

  ***

  The pirate stronghold at Xiropotamos beach provided an opportunity for brave traders. After all, what was the value of merchandise from a captured merchant ship in a settlement awash in stolen goods. The exchange rate on Antikythera proved too tempting to resist. And although potential victims of the brigands while at sea, traders rowed in and took advantage of other merchants’ misfortunes.

  A Cilician Captain arrived at the beach, kicked sleeping pirates awake, and hollered.

  “Get up, get up,” he insisted. “The merchant crewmen have escaped. Get up, find them, and claim your reward.”

  On the trading vessels that came to do business with the Cilicians, the crews rolled out from under their blankets.

  “What’s going on?” Perseus Archos asked.

  The shadowy forms of two pirates approached the boat. They finished strolling to the coastal trader before answering.

  “Captain Parviz’s prisoners have escaped,” one replied. He scaled the sideboards, reached the deck, and came to his feet. Then he said as if it was a challenge. “We’ve been ordered to hold all merchant boats on the beach after searching them.”

  “Help yourself,” Perseus invited the man.

  At the bow, Teppo Petya added wood to a brazier and blew the embers to life. From t
hat flame, he lit the wick on a lamp.

  “Here, this will help,” he offered the light to the pirate.

  “And two of Captain Mirza’s crew are missing,” the other pirate said while he climbed up. “But, more than likely, they are off getting drunk.”

  Of the six merchant ships on Xiropotamos beach, Perseus Archos’ coastal trader was the smallest. With limited storage spaces to hide escaped prisoners, the search ended quickly.

  “We have wine, bread, and cheese,” Teppo Petya announced. “Stay and breakfast with us.”

  Neither Sergeant Petya nor Lieutenant Archos wanted to socialize with the Cilicians. But Tribune Sisera’s instructions stated that once pirates were on board, the Rhodians were supposed to keep them on board.

  Why, they didn’t know. But both understood orders and as a result, Perseus held up a wineskin while Teppo unwrapped a large chunk of cheese.

  “Yes, stay and breakfast with us,” Perseus invited the pair. “We are all awake. And you must guard us, so why not eat?”

  ***

  Perseus, Teppo, and the two pirates, Cas and Kaveh, sat on crates around a box holding the food.

  “We arrived late yesterday but don’t know anybody,” Perseus complained while passing the wineskin to Kaveh. “Now we are stuck with a cargo hold full of grain.”

  “We can help you sell the load,” Cas assured him.

  From the beach came cries of, “The prisoners are in a boat. They have taken to the sea.”

  “That’s interesting,” Teppo commented. “I wonder how they got a boat.”

  His casual remark relayed more information to Perseus than to the pirates.

  “I guess they will escape,” Perseus added.

  “No, they won’t escape,” Kaveh disagreed. “Once our ships-of-war are launched, they will be recaptured easily.”

  “I haven’t seen any ships-of-war,” Teppo noted.

  “They are beached a quarter of a mile from here,” Cas reported. “You haven’t seen them yet because the crews need to be rounded up before they can launch the ships.”

  “Did the Captain earlier say there was a reward?” Perseus questioned.

  “Sure, those prisoners are worth a lot to Captain Parviz and his crew,” Kaveh exclaimed. “He’ll pay handsomely for their return.”