Alerio leaned forward and whispered, “Run.”
A roar of warning came from the spectators as the assailant rose to a sprinter’s position between the confines of the blades. Then he rolled straight back and gathered his feet under his hips. Alerio watched as the dizzy man ran and staggered to an exit tunnel.
The Legionary resumed his vigil of turning and watching for the next attack.
“Decanus Alerio Sisera,” the woman on the tier called out.
“Yes, I can hear you,” Alerio replied as he spun and scanned.
“The test is done,” she announced. “Please put away your swords and follow the lad.”
The ten-year-old who had guided him to the fighting pit was standing at an exit. A huge grin plastered on his face, he beckoned to the Legionary. Alerio hesitated at the abrupt ending of the trial. Slowly he sheathed the gladii and marched across the sand towards the youth.
Chapter 78 - Honor Among Assassins
The boy guided him down different tunnels. Before they arrived, Alerio smelled food and heard the low hum of conversation. When they stepped into a dining hall, he was shocked when a woman waved him to a chair at the head of a table. He paused and glanced at those already seated.
Sitting at the table were the five little lads. All grinning and nudging each other at the sight of the Legionary. Next to them were the four teens trying to look stern and adult, except their wide eyes displayed their adulation and spoiled the act. The last occupant was an older man. A bandage circled his head and his ribs were wrapped tightly with more cloth.
“Our guest, Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera of the Legion,” a familiar voice announced. It was the woman from the chair to Speckled Pheasant’s right. “Please Decanus, sit,” she ordered. “We don’t get much company in the Golden Valley.”
The woman waved an arm at a chair as she entered the room.
“Is the food poisoned?” Alerio asked. “Or do I get a Nocte Apis in the back after a last meal?”
“Goodness no,” she explained. “You passed the test with honors.”
“It wasn’t much of a test,” confessed Alerio. “I’ve had harder fights.”
“Oh, we already knew you could fight,” she advised him. “Anyone who can kill an associate of the Dulce Pugno is already a proven warrior. No, we test for character. A raging killer, an arrogant cūlus, or a braggart would have failed the test.”
“But you placed the lads in the fighting pit with me?” Alerio warned. Then looking as the little ones slumped and shame washed over the teens, he added. “Although they displayed bravery and deadly skills, it was dangerous.”
The woman beamed at the table of young people who brightened at the praise, before responding.
“Not as dangerous as you might think,” she reported. “We had seven archers on the upper tier targeting you.”
Alerio understood if he had hurt one of the youths, he would have become a pin cushion before he could hurt another.
He asked, “You said the test started before the pit. What did you mean?”
“The boy who fetched you from your room,” the woman explained. “He was close enough for you to strike or to scold for sneaking in uninvited. Had you abused him; the test would have been very different.”
“So that’s it,” Alerio said hopefully. “I can leave and return safely to my Century?”
“No, there is one more aspect that only applies to those passing the test,” the woman admitted. “It doesn’t affect those who fail, as they can’t talk about what they’ve seen or done here. You can.”
Alerio sat down stiffly when the woman paused.
“So, the final retribution is, you must leave our region,” she announced. “In other words, you are exiled. We can’t have anyone pointing you out as the man who killed four Dulce Pugno. The Golden Valley doesn’t have an army to protect it. The survival of every man, woman, and child depends on fear of Dulce Pugno to deter our enemies.”
“How long do I have to pack?” asked Alerio sarcastically.
“From the time you reach your Legion Post,” the woman replied. “Thirty days. After that, if you’re found on our shores, you will be murdered in your sleep along with anyone near you.”
There was a noise at the entrance and trays of food appeared. Ham baked in a honey glaze, fresh biscuits, butter mixed with honey, and steamed vegetables were placed on the table.
Alerio inhaled and his mouth watered at the aroma.
“In case you attempt to stay by changing your name,” the woman added. “Remember, everyone at this table knows your features. Now for something more pleasant.”
Ten pairs of eyes peered at him. Gone were the looks of awe. They had been replaced by studious stares. Under the glares, the aroma no longer seemed so appealing.
One of the little boys pushed back his chair and marched to a side table. He picked up an object wrapped in a white cloth and carried it to Alerio.
“For you, master,” the boy said as he handed over the package.
Despite the test, the exile, and the promise of death, his mother’s reminder to always be polite echoed in his mind.
“Thank you, little Dulce Pugno,” Alerio said graciously. He was rewarded by a wide smile which displayed missing teeth.
The child returned to his seat as the Legionary peeled back the fabric.
“As I explained,” the woman said as the layers fell away. “You passed the test with honor. Your bravery and good heart were displayed when you spared and then taught each group of students. For that, you are deemed an Ally of the Golden Valley.”
Alerio folded back the final corner. In the cloth laid a long-curved dagger with a wide yellow band in the center of a black hilt. He drew the weapon. A small engraving of a bee hovering over a flower was etched in the upper part of the blade.
“We have friends and associates around the Republic, and in the kingdoms across the sea,” she declared while pointing to the dagger. “This is a symbol of our allies. While it doesn’t allow you to send us to kill for you, the symbol will get you sanctuary, protection, medical attention, and any information we are privy to. Also, the Dulce Pugno will not accept a contract on an Ally of the Golden Valley.”
“What about an exile who stays?” Alerio asked hopefully. Then another thought occurred to him and he added, “Is Speckled Pheasant banished?”
“You must leave our shores,” the woman explained. “As for the Captain? He didn’t kill a Dulce Pugno nor does he know anything about the Golden Valley.”
“I haven’t seen much of the Valley either,” admitted Alerio.
“The Captain was brought in one entrance and placed in a luxury suite,” the woman stated. “From there, he went directly to the arena. Also, he left before daylight so he has no knowledge of the Valley’s layout. You will, and we trust you to never divulge the information, Ally of The Golden Valley.”
As the woman left, Alerio looped the dagger on his belt and filled a plate. The first bite of food revived his hunger and he dug into the ham and vegetables.
“You fight two handed?” asked the man in the bandages. “How is that possible?”
Alerio began telling him about the need to switch hands when he was smaller. During the explanation, the teens and children began dueling in the air with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. He wasn’t sure but, he might have just added a new technique to the assassins’ arsenal.
Chapter 79 - Daylight in the Valley
When the meal ended, all ten of his breakfast companions filed by and touched his shoulder before leaving the room. As the last stepped through the doorway, his ten-year-old guide stepped into the room.
“Please follow me,” he said with a grin.
“Whose soup did you pee in?” Alerio inquired as he stood and stretched.
“Pardon? Soup?” the puzzled boy asked.
“Who did you anger to draw the duty of guarding me?” the Legionary asked as he walked towards the lad. “Shouldn’t you be off training to be a Sweet Fist?�
��
“Oh, after my time in the outside world, I’m going to be a Watcher,” the boy said with pride. “I like hunting and tracking. But mostly, I like fresh air.”
For the first time, Alerio noticed how hot and stuffy it was in the tunnels. It’s why, as they walked, he knew when they approached an exit. A breeze of fresh, cool air caressed his face.
They emerged high up on the side of the mountain. Spreading out to the far side of the valley were huts, work sheds, fields of crops surrounded by rings of flowers, and beehives. So many in fact, the beehives outnumbered the huts.
Though, something was missing. In a sprawling village such as the Golden Valley, one would expect lingering smoke from morning cook fires. There was no layer of smoke hanging across the huts and fields.
All along the black stone paths, people moved slowly. Some carried buckets, other hoes or rakes, and others toted baskets. The one thing they had in common was they were all traveling in a precise manner.
“We will descend on the path,” his guide informed him. “At the bottom, there will be bees. If one comes close, do not shoo it away. If one lands on you, do not swat it. Bees are our livelihood and are sacred. Move slowly and follow me.”
“Does no one here breakfast?” Alerio asked. “There are no cooking fires.”
“Fires and fast movements are allowed only after sundown,” the future Watcher replied. “In the Golden Valley, daylight is bee time and we do not disturb our benefactors as they go about the work of producing honey.”
“A strange but understandable rule,” Alerio observed.
They sneaked heal and toe along the paths, being extremely careful where they stepped. Three times during the odd stroll bees landed on Alerio. Each time, a handler would hold up a hand for them to stop. After long stretches of waiting for the handler to come to them, a feather fan was gently waved until the bee took flight.
It took a large part of the morning to cover what should have been a leisurely stroll.
“Thank you, young Watcher,” Alerio said as he stepped through the gate.
“Go in peace Ally of the Golden Valley,” the youth responded as he closed the gate door.
Now free of the movement constraints, Alerio jogged down the trail, over the bridge, and into the craftsmen’s village.
“Ceyx. Ceyx,” he called out. “Gear up. We’ve got to catch Speckled Pheasant.”
Lance Corporal Eolus ducked through the door of the hut. He walked out a few steps before stopping, raising his good arm above his hand, and stretching.
“Why?” he asked as he yawned. “The rebel is gone.”
“We have to catch up with him,” Alerio explained. “I’m going to kill him. Now hurry.”
“There’s no rush,” Ceyx said which obviously agitated Alerio. “They put him in a two-pony cart before daybreak. We’d need to be mounted on ponies to catch him. But guess what? In all of these mountains, there’s not a pony to be had. Or bought. Or stolen. Or…”
“I get the picture,” Alerio said in defeat. “Let’s gear up. I need Optio Horus’ sage counsel.”
Act 9
Chapter 80 - Down from the Mountains
“I see you have a new tool,” observed Ceyx as the Legionaries marched beside the mule.
They had decided to take the trail through the mountains. With their gear and the slow-moving mule, it would have been impossible to backtrack along Brianus’ narrow and twisting short cut.
“A gift from the Dulce Pugno for returning the Nocte Apibus,” Alerio replied.
“When you left with Speckled Pheasant, I figured it was the last time I’d ever see you,” Ceyx admitted. “Now, here we are and you have a new dagger. What was the test? What was it like in the Golden Valley?”
“I guess they liked my face,” Alerio said avoiding the question. “The knife was a reward for returning the Night Bees.”
“I’ve never heard of a reward from the Dulce Pugno,” Ceyx said. “Unless you count them sparing your life as a reward.”
“I do,” was all Alerio said as they hiked to the top of a steep grade.
Two Watchers stood at the edge of the forest observing the Legionaries. One raised a hand and pounded it into his chest as a salute.
Alerio and Ceyx returned the salute before stepping over the crest of the hill.
“The Watchers and craftsmen are very cosmopolitan,” noted Ceyx. “Surprisingly so for mountain dwellers.”
“Probably just knowledge picked up during the travels of the honey caravans,” Alerio replied.
He didn’t inform Ceyx the residents of the Golden Valley had expatriates placed in major cities around the Republic. Or that the Dulce Pugno, could be reached by visiting any of the luxury trading houses.
Six weeks later, the caravan town came into view. From high up, they could see the roofs and tents of the supply merchants. Further out, beyond the stock pens, lay the edge of the flat plains and the eastward road leading to the Legion Raider Post. But they focused on one building, specifically, as they descended the mountain trail.
It was late in the afternoon and the fire pit was glowing and the meat on the spit was dripping. Together they created aromatic smoke that seemed to climb the mountain trail directly to the Legionaries’ noses. Hunger put a bounce in their steps and they wanted to race downhill for the inn. But the stubborn mule, wouldn’t be rushed. He slowed and placed each foot carefully on the steep trail. As a result, they arrived well after dark.
“Proprietor, meat and mead,” Ceyx called out as he tied the mule’s lead to a post.
The happy vision of a large slab of roasted venison caused Alerio to fumble with the feed bag as he rushed to strap it over the animal’s head. Although the spit and roasting meat were gone, the aroma lingered. His spirits sank at the reply.
“Sorry gentlemen,” the owner reported. “We’re closed for the evening.”
In the lantern light, Alerio observed Ceyx’s head drop in disappointment. Another dinner of barley mush and jerky was almost too much. Alerio attempted a different ploy.
“Is young Brianus around?” the Legionary asked. “We’re clients of his.”
There was a pause as the owner looked towards the back of the restaurant. From the shadows, the hunter emerged and studied the Legionaries.
“Alerio and Ceyx,” Brianus said in surprise. “When the Captain came through, I assumed you were dead. Claimed by the mountains, his guards, or the defenders of the Golden Valley.”
“When did Speckled Pheasant arrive?” inquired Alerio. “But more importantly, is he still here?”
“Ignore my vengeful friend,” interrupted Ceyx. “Do you have any venison left. Scraps will do. By Hades, do you have any remaining burnt skin? That’ll do.”
“We can do better than that,” Brianus announced. “We were just sitting down for supper. Come, join us. Father, with your blessing?”
“Of course,” the owner replied. “Please join us.”
While Ceyx and Brianus talked with the hunter’s father, Alerio sulked after learning Speckled Pheasant had passed through only four days ago. Even with two ponies, the fat revolutionary had only been four days ahead of them on the trail.
In the morning, they guided the mule and cart through the stock pens and started the journey eastward.
Chapter 81 - Legion NCOs Fix Stuff
Sergeant Horus was waiting in the command tent when Alerio and Ceyx entered. Dirty and dusty from the trail, the two Legionaries looked as if they would fall over from exhaustion.
“Well, you’re obviously not dead,” pronounced the Optio. “So, I assume the stuff with the Dulce Pugno is settled?”
“Not exactly,” Alerio explained. “No one is in danger from an attack by the assassins. However, I have a problem.”
Alerio paused and chewed on his lip while gathering his thoughts before continuing.
“Spit it out Decanus,” Manfredus ordered. He was at his desk making entries in the Century’s log.
“Give him a second to co
llect himself, Corporal,” Centurion Stylianus urged. “He looks troubled. Come on son, just say it.”
The Centurion was totally healed and all the bruises had faded.
“I am banished from the Eastern region,” the words burst from Alerio’s mouth and he hung his head. “I don’t know what to do. If I’m here in thirty days, I’m dead as well as anybody sleeping near me.”
Corporal Manfredus dropped the quill on his desk and stared open mouthed at the Lance Corporal. Centurion Stylianus wasn’t as dramatic. He settled for stroking his chin thoughtfully. It was the Sergeant who spoke first.
“Sir, I believe we need to put in transfer papers for Decanus Sisera,” Horus suggested. “Rush orders at that.”
“I will sign the transfer. The Colonel’s staff will pass it through,” Stylianus said. “But we haven’t had a request from another Legion for any personnel. We can’t just ship him off to another unit unannounced.”
“Perhaps, the Southern Legion,” Corporal Manfredus suggested.
Ceyx and Horus groaned. Even Stylianus allowed a little discomfort to spill out in the form of an ouch.
“Pardon me, sir. But what’s wrong with the Southern Legion?” asked Alerio.
“Nothing Lance Corporal,” Centurion Stylianus answered. “It’s a fine posting.”
“Except for the heat,” Manfredus added.
“And the wild, crazy mountain tribesmen,” added Ceyx. “and the soldiers from Qart Hadasht across the strait.”
“Or the rocks along the shore,” Horus said. “Oh, and the Pirates.”
“And the sea storms,” Manfredus added piling onto the benefits of the Legion posting. “Can’t forget the sea storms.”
“In short, it’s the cūlus of the Republic,” Horus summed up. “and the Legion isn’t much better.”
“Now hold on Optio,” scolded Stylianus. “As an officer of the Legion, I simply can’t stand by while you besmirch the integrity of a Legion of the Republic.”
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