Rome's Tribune (Clay Warrior Stories Book 14)

by J. Clifton Slater

  Before he came fully up and could deliver the killing chop, a shield swiped his left side spinning him to the right. Caught unbalanced on the edge of the steering platform, he was stabbed with a gladius and kicked off the deck. The injured oarsman’s body did not hurt anyone as he rotated and fell back into the crowd. But the big man’s battle ax, tumbling from his hands, split another rower’s forehead.

  Alerio rapped his gladius on the shield. After each tap, the Noric steel rang as if the blade was singing. Hearing the music of battle, Alerio added his voice to the song.

  “Demetrius is knocking

  Show him no pity.”

  Two pirates rushed the steering platform. Shoulder to shoulder, they charged.

  Alerio dropped to a knee and caught one on his shield. With a heave, he launched the man up and back. As his partner flew, the second one caught a length of steel in his groin. Pivoting on the knee, Alerio chopped the first one’s neck.

  “The Prince was very snippy

  Against our walled city.”

  Two men bleeding out on the aft deck made the boards slippery.

  Three men jumped to the platform and lost their footing. Alerio hammered one, stabbed another, and kicked the third. Then he repeated the assaults in different order until all three were dead.

  “Let him whine let him get snitty

  Against our walled city

  From brave Rhodes he fled.”

  Bodies equaled barriers and the next pair had to step high over corpses while keeping their balance. Smacks from the shield put both down. And while a stab took out one, the second pirate scrambled back and off the platform to safety.

  “Show him no pity

  Remain behind the walls

  Do not let Demetrius in.”

  Alerio sang then finished the verse with raps on the edge of the shield. “Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.”

  ***

  The Cilician Captain could justify losing men while taking a prize ship. Or even in a fight with another pirate crew. But having his men see their companions and, in some, cases family members murdered by one man was undermining his authority.

  “Demetrius is knocking

  Do not let him in.”

  Alerio sang as he paced between bodies and glared at the shipload of rowers.

  Then a ship’s officer stepped forward and announced, “I am Captain Mirza.”

  “Captain, you need to coach your men on staying awake while on guard duty,” Alerio told him. “Especially to be watchful when guarding prisoners.”

  “What do you mean?” Mirza demanded.

  “Your two sentries at the pig pen,” Alerio described. “They were sitting together which is bad form. And they both faced the prisoners and the hogs. It was easy to come up behind them and feed them to the pigs.”

  Alerio wanted the crew mad. Angry mobs killed their opponents and did it quickly. Vengeful men might decide to torture a murderer. Alerio did not like that idea.

  A satisfying rumble of rage ran through the crew. Formalities out of the way, it was time to fight and die.

  “Are you going to just stand there?” Alerio barked. He rapped on the edge of the shield with the gladius. “Or are you cowards going to punish me.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

  ***

  They came for Alerio in a mob. Except, the center board on a bireme was not wide. Pushing, shoving, and trying to be the first to visit revenge on the man who killed their crew mates, caused dozens to fall off the boards. They landed hard on the rower benches. Adding to the chaos, some grabbed arms for balance taking more members of the rushing mob down with them.

  Alerio braced, sang, and watched to see who would make it out of the stampede.

  “The Prince wants the children

  To raise as yearlings.”

  Three abreast was the limit of the boards when it reached the steering platform. If any made it to the deck, they would have the full ten feet, beam to beam, for maneuvering.

  Alerio realized it and met the pirates at the end of the boards with bashing and stabbing. He held until the weight of several dead on his legs and the mass pushing against him forced a retreat.

  “What can we do to save our kin

  Remain behind the walls.”

  The pirates crowded around in a tightly packed formation. His endeavor to anger them worked too well. Arms swung swords and knives, but they were restricted by the other pirates packed in beside them.

  Alerio blocked the strikes with the shield. His back touched the steering brace for the rear oar, and he thought about ending the fight. He had two choices. Drop the shield, locate the longest sword, and jump on the blade. Or dive over the rail and feed the fish. Then a soft voice in his mind suggested, “Finish the song.”

  In times of high stress, some people see in slow motion. Arms and blades floated, making them easy to block. And decisions could be put off for pride and the opportunity to end a song.

  “Do not let him in

  Remain behind the walls

  Do not let Demetrius in.”

  Because his shield and gladius were occupied, Alerio voiced the, “Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.”

  ***

  The entire ship lifted from the water and men fell to the side in a mass of bodies. When the bireme settled, it listed to one side. Following the upheaval, a horrible wrenching and scraping of wood vibrated throughout the pirate ship.

  “Get to your oars. Get to your oars,” the ship’s officers ordered. “We are under attack.”

  And as quickly as the mob crossed the steering deck and pinned Alerio, they withdrew and ran to their rowing stations.

  On the side of the pirate’s bireme, a Rhodian trihemiolia backstroked and extracted its ram from the Cilician’s hull.

  “Tribune, can you swim?” Commander Izador called across the divide between ships.

  The Rhodian vessel backed away and did an impossible wiggle as oars in separate sections rocked the bow and stern in different directions.

  “I need a bridge, sir,” Alerio shouted back.

  The trihemiolia leaped forward, swerved, and two oars at midship extended out. Alerio jumped to the rail and hopped onto the oar blades. Balancing on the impromptu bridge, he walked the oaken oars to the Rhodian vessel.

  ***

  “We need to teach you how to swim,” Izador remarked when Alerio climbed over the rail.

  “All Legionaries can swim, Commander,” Alerio told him. Holding up the Noric gladius, he exclaimed. “I did not want to leave this behind.”

  “Get us out of these waters,” Izador instructed his ship’s officers. “The Cilicians have six ships-of-war around here and I don’t want to get tangled up in a sea battle.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Captain of the warship acknowledged. Plus, he added. “Glad you made it, Tribune.”

  “Thank you,” Alerio replied to the surprise congratulations. Then he asked. “Perseus, Petya, and Symeon, did you find them?”

  “Symeon Vasil is on Lieutenant Niels’ ship heading for Rhodes,” the Commander replied. “Lieutenant Perseus and Sergeant Petya are telling everyone that you are a one-man army.”

  “That’s a bit much, sir,” Alerio commented. “They did a great job. Oh, I told the eight crewmen from the Good Themis that you would wait two days before leaving Crete.”

  “We can do that,” Izador assured him. “I imagine Pasi Vasil will have a nice reward for you when we get back.”

  “I don’t want a reward,” Alerio insisted. “I rescued the boy to save my reputation. I need to make inroads with the Rhodian military.”

  “I understand that,” he responded. “But wealthy men think everyone is either out to cheat them or looking for a payment of some kind.”

  “Can my success be shifted to credit with your military?” Alerio asked.

  “Tribune Sisera, you are in excellent standing with our Navy,” Izador informed him. “But we are a Democracy, placing the final decision about you with the citizenship.”

  “You mean Chief M
agistrate Niels,” Alerio guessed.

  “He is the people’s representative,” Izador confirmed. “Your status is up to him.”

  “I don’t think he likes me,” Alerio complained.

  “You are correct,” Izador agreed. “You insulted his family. But that can wait for later. Right now, you need to get cleaned up and changed for the party.”

  “What party?” Alerio inquired.

  “Perseus put it to a vote,” Izador replied. “You are going to become an honorary Lieutenant in the Rhodian military.”

  “Well, that should solidify my position,” Alerio stated.

  “Not necessarily,” Izador advised. “Your rank won’t make Magistrate Niels like you anymore. Now go find a sailor with a rope and bucket and get cleaned up.”

  Chapter 28 – The City of Rhodes

  Alerio climbed down from the carriage and marveled at the villa. Located three miles from the harbor, the main house sat on the side of a hill and offered a partial view of the sea from the driveway. He could only imagine the majestic scene from the rear.

  “What do I owe you?” he asked the coachman.

  “Nothing, Lieutenant Sisera,” the driver replied. “Master Vasil has taken care of it.”

  Ever since Alerio returned from Crete, Pasi Vasil had organized an apartment, meals, entertainment, almost everything Alerio needed. Except for one thing. He would not or could not arrange a meeting with Chief Magistrate Kolya Niels. The invitation for a midday meal, Alerio hoped, was a step in that direction.

  A house servant held the front door open.

  “Right this way, sir,” he invited Alerio. “Master Vasil awaits your pleasure on the veranda.”

  Open and airy, the house, as others on the Isle of Rhodes, was designed to allow breezes to blow through the rooms. On the back patio, Alerio found a table loaded with fruits, cured meats, raw vegetables, a selection of olives, and a pitcher of wine. At a second table, a man with ink-stained fingers, a stack of papyrus paper, and a bottle of ink nodded in greeting.

  “Tribune Sisera, can you write?” the scribe inquired.

  “Thanks to my mother, I can write in Latin,” Alerio told him. “And from experience I am able to scribble legible notes in Etruscan and Umbrian. But those are the limits of my letters.”

  “Latin will be sufficient,” the scribe declared.

  “Sufficient for what?” Alerio demanded.

  “To write a letter to Senator Maximus,” Pasi Vasil answered.

  The merchant came from a side door, walked directly to Alerio, and offered his hand. They clasped palms and Pasi waved Alerio to a chair.

  “What does my adopted father have to do with anything?” Alerio asked.

  “I propose a business venture,” he explained. “I will send two of my largest transports to Rome with grain from Egypt and goods from Asia Minor. But it is a large investment.”

  “A considerable investment,” Alerio confirmed. “And very trusting of you to send cargo blindly without an agreement in place.”

  “Very shrewd of you to recognize that,” Pasi commented. “I, of course, expect goods and gold back from your father. But as you pointed out, I have no contract with Spurius Carvilius Maximus.”

  “You want me to write a letter of introduction,” Alerio guessed, “and spell out some of the terms.”

  “That, yes, plus I need some sort of collateral,” Pasi Vasil informed him.

  “I don’t have credit in Rhodes or that amount of coins,” Alerio informed the merchant.

  “I realize your problems, and I do not expect you to provide surety for your father,” Pasi explained. “I expect you to be the guarantee. At least until the ships return.”

  “You want me to volunteer to be a hostage on Rhodes?” Alerio asked. He jumped to his feet and inhaled several times to cool his temper before speaking. “I am a Legion staff officer. Not a merchant Prince free to spend months lounging around.”

  “Allow me to offer a different viewpoint,” Pasi advised while holding out both hands to stop Alerio from leaving. “My navigators estimate the voyage will take one hundred and fifty days for the round trip. Now consider this. If Magistrate Niels denies your credentials as an emissary, he can order you out of Rhodian territory and thus end your mission. But with a contract binding you to Rhodes and me, he cannot banish you. You will have one hundred and fifty days to change his mind. Plus, I’ll work on your behalf to get you recognized as a military attaché.”

  Alerio sat, put his head in his hands, and attempted to analyze the situation logically.

  “Wine, Tribune Sisera?” Symeon Vasil inquired.

  Looking between his fingers, Alerio studied the small frame and the bright eyes. They no longer displayed stress and exhaustion.

  “You appear well,” Alerio commented. He took the mug from the boy and saluted with it. “Master Vasil. You have an extraordinary young man here. During our escape, he acted as the coxswain, setting the stroke rate with a beat and a song. I was truly honored to be a part of his adventure. You, sir, have done an excellent job of raising him.”

  “That is an interesting remark,” Pasi related. “I was thinking the same about you and your father. Honorable to a fault is not a talent you are born with. It is a learned trait. Will you write the letter to your father and allow me to help you?”

  ***

  Alerio’s hobnailed boots echoed on the tile walkway. On his first visit to the government building, he wore traveling clothing and was under arrest. For this trip he donned his Tribune armor and had his staff officer’s helmet stuffed under his left arm.

  “Good day, Chief Magistrate Niels,” Alerio stated while saluting. “May I present myself and my credentials.”

  “I have reviewed your letters and have had numerous people swear to your character,” Kolya Niels replied. His face twisted displaying an internal struggle. Finally, he voiced his thoughts. “You held a knife at my son’s throat and for that I should exile you. But there seems to be a business matter that I cannot ignore.”

  “Thank you for your consideration,” Alerio acknowledged, hoping a little humility would sway the Magistrate.

  “I will not recognize you at this time,” Niels declared. “But as you are required to stay, I am issuing you a warrant as an observer for Rhodian forces on Asia Minor. I will review your behavior before the shipping contract is fulfilled.”

  “Thank you, Chief Magistrate,” Alerio said.

  Then he about faced and marched out of the building. He didn’t get what he wanted but the situation had triggered a trading agreement. Despite the setback, he still had the opportunity to complete his mission as a military attaché. And all it required was for Alerio to stay out of trouble for one hundred and fifty days. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

  Chapter 29 – Lack of Analytical Thinking

  Alerio and Commander Izador sat on a stone wall looking up at the giant statue of Helios in the harbor.

  “Forty-eight years ago, the son of King Antigonus sailed to Rhodes and began a siege,” Izador described. “He built enormous weapons to break our walls.”

  “Demetrius, right?” Alerio guessed. “But he never broke the walls of Rhodes.”

  “Correct. How did you know?” inquired the Commander.

  “I heard the legend in lyrics while escaping from the pirates,” Alerio replied. “I understand it’s a schoolyard song.”

  Commander Izador smiled at the reference as if he remembered singing the song as a schoolboy. Then he continued.

  “After a year, Demetrius sailed away, leaving behind all of the siege engines. To give you an idea of the size, one was a massive battering ram that required a thousand men to swing,” Izador told Alerio. “After the King’s son abandoned the machines, they were either melted down for metal or sold for coins. Then the citizens decided to build a statue to honor Helios, the Sun God, for delivering them from King Antigonus.”

  “And that’s how Rhodes ended up with a one hundred and five-foot tall statue?”
Alerio submitted.

  “Not at first. The initial discussion and contract called for a fifty-foot figure,” Izador corrected. “A native son of Rhodes, Chares of Lindos, was contacted for the sculpture. He quickly worked up an estimate for the iron, bronze, granite, and the labor required to complete the statue. Overjoyed at the prospect of building the project, he gave an aggressive estimate.”

  “It must have been a great honor to be associated with developing a task of that size,” Alerio noted while scanning upward to the face of Helios. “Bidding low made sense.”

  “After reviewing the estimate, the citizens cheered Chares as a hero. His cost was so low they demanded to know how much to double the size of the statue,” the Commander explained. “Chares, caught up in the heat of adoration, is reported to have said double the size, double the cost.”

  “It is a huge statue,” Alerio remarked. “How did they get the head up there?”

  “The engineers ramped up dirt as they built the statue and slid the head up the slope to mount it,” Izador responded. “That was just one of the issues with doubling the size of Helios. Beyond the cost of the ramp, the iron and the bronze requirements increased by eighteen-fold. The additional charges bankrupted Chares which led to his suicide. A sculpture named Laches, with a new budget, completed the statue.”

  A sailor jogged up and saluted Izador.

  “Commander. We are ready to launch when you are,” he announced.

  “Come, Tribune Sisera,” Izador instructed while jumping down from the wall. “Your ride awaits.”

  “The Colossus of Rhodes,” Alerio said admiring the statue of Helios. “It is a wonder for the ages. I can understand a builder getting carried away with excitement over it.”