“Sorry, sir. I wasn’t aware you served in the Southern Legion,” admitted Horus.
“I haven’t,” explained the Centurion. “And I must add if ordered there, I’d resign my commission. I have that option. You, Decanus Sisera, do not.”
“I understand, Centurion,” Alerio stated. “There is another favor I’d like to ask for.”
“Speak up Legionary,” Stylianus ordered.
Chapter 82 - The Harbor at Crotone
A week after the return of Lance Corporal Ceyx Eolus and Decanus Alerio Sisera and the meeting in the command tent, the harbor town rested in the early evening. As with all evenings, the town seemed to breathe a sigh of relief after the heat of the day. Good people were in their homes enjoying supper with their families. The few people out were either workmen grabbing a last beverage after a hard day’s work or shopkeepers closing for the day.
Evening watchmen on the anchored ships strolled the upper decks. From the merchant’s large transports to the small sloops, and the Republic’s triremes tied to the pier, everyone watched for two things. People attempting to stowaway and fire. One was a bother and the other a life-threatening disaster. None of the watchmen were prepared for the stomp pause stomp that preceded the arrival of a squad of heavy infantrymen.
From the direction of the Legion Post, the Legionaries marched directly to the pier where the Navy warships were anchored. As they moved along the dock, Legionaries, in full armor with javelins and massive shields, fell out of line and assumed sentry positions.
One of the Navy watchmen shouted down, “Lance Corporal. What’s happening?”
“You sail on the morning tide?” the infantry squad leader shouted back.
“Aye, first thing, just before sunrise,” the sailor replied, “So why are you here?”
“We’re here to keep the rats off your boat,” the Decanus answered.
While the Lance Corporal and the sailor exchanged words, two cloaked figures came from an alleyway. In the lantern light of the harbor boulevard, they appeared to be two workmen heading for a pub for refreshments. When they turned and entered a drinking establishment, it was confirmed.
“You don’t have to do this,” Sergeant Horus grumbled as he tossed back the hood on his cloak. “We’ll get to him later.”
“As our Centurion explained, politically, the Legion can’t start a brawl in the business district with the rebels just to extract revenge on one man,” Alerio explained. He stopped talking as the bar maid approached.
She took orders for two ales from the men sitting in the darkest corner of the pub. Once she had waddled away to fetch the drinks, Alerio continued.
“I’m sailing on the morning tide,” he said. “Even if the civilian authorities investigate, the only person to charge will be in a different region of the Republic.”
“There’s little likelihood of them issuing a warrant for a brawl in a pub,” Horus admitted.
Their ales arrived and the men sat in silence sipping from the clay mugs.
On the pier, the Decanus of heavy infantry stopped at each of his men, said a few words before moving on to the next Legionary. At the end of the dock, he stopped. Four men in workmen’s clothing strolled up to the Lance Corporal.
“Pleasant night,” one of them said to the Squad Leader.
“Good evening, Corporal Thornernus,” the Decanus greeted his NCO.
“When the package arrives,” Thornernus ordered. “Get it aboard the ship. Dead, bleeding out, or alive and kicking, the package must be on that ship when it sails. Understand?”
“He’ll be on the ship,” the Squad Leader promised. “You can depend on us.”
“I do Lance Corporal,” Thornernus assured him. Glancing down the boulevard, the Corporal saw seven men strolling toward the door to the tavern. “Show time,” he announced.
Alerio and Horus dropped their heads and studied their half empty mugs when the door opened and two men stepped in and scanned the pub’s interior. With just a few patrons in the bar and none seemingly dangerous, one of the men stepped outside. A moment later, Speckled Pheasant bristled through the doorway followed by five men.
The rebel Captain sat and two of the men selected seats facing him. While the leaders of the insurgency conferred, the four guards eyed the room. The talk stopped when drinks arrived. Once the barmaid was clear, the three continued their conference.
Four masked men burst through the door. Two of the guards were immediately downed by bludgeons. The other two pulled swords and faced off against the four strangers. Both dropped as flats of gladii blades slammed into their heads from behind.
Speckled Pheasant and his Lieutenants shoved back their chairs and jumped to their feet. With all of their guards down, the Lieutenants attempted to shield their Captain.
Nevertheless, five trained Legionaries against the two renegades soon separated the rebel leaders. The Lieutenants were pushed to the side and restrained. Speckled Pheasant stood alone in the center of the pub.
“Hello Captain,” a voice spoke from the dark corner of the tavern.
“Alerio Sisera. I thought you died in the mountains,” sneered the rebel leader. “Are these your Raider friends? I also have friends. Two kinds actually. One kind are magistrates and civic leaders. They’ll bring the Republic’s law down on you and your unit. If they have a chance. See, I have other friends. The kind who will stab you in an alleyway or gut you on the street. You and your friends are dead men.”
“Funny you should mention the Raiders,” Alerio replied. “I believe they are all standing a general inspection. This very night, they are dining with the Battle Commander who is visiting the Raider Post. Imagine the embarrassment of a civilian court questioning the word of a Legion Colonel.”
“As for your thug friends,” Alerio continued as he stepped out of the shadows. “It seems I’m being transferred. Unless your friends care to track me across the Republic, I won’t be available.”
Reaching over his shoulders, the weapon’s instructor and drew both gladii.
“Strangers. Please remove the customers, the barmaid, the bartender, and the guards,” Alerio instructed. “I have things to discuss with the Captain and his Lieutenants.”
After everyone was herded or dragged out, the last masked strangers stopped and dropped the Lieutenants’ swords on the floor at their feet.
“Oh, this is rich,” crowed Speckled Pheasant as his officers bent and retrieved their weapons. “I’ll not be bothering my friends. Because, boy, you are already dead.”
After a speech with as much bravado as that, Alerio expected Speckled Pheasant to attack. But like all sadistic bullies, the Captain was a coward at heart. While he talked a good game, he wasn’t about to attack the young Legionary. Instead, the leader of the insurgents reached out and shoved one of his Lieutenants in Alerio’s direction.
The man stumbled forward. Off balance, he swung high, probably hoping to drive back his foe and give him a chance to get himself steady.
Alerio didn’t give him the opportunity. He dropped to a knee and drove the tip of his left gladius up through the soft tissue under the man’s chin. But the man didn’t stop coming. Speckled Pheasant was behind his dying Lieutenant, holding the body up, using it as a shield while stabbing over the man’s shoulder.
The Legionary pivoted on the down knee away from the charging Captain. He engaged the advancing second rebel Lieutenant. With blades clashing, Alerio rose and took a giant step to the side. Now the Lieutenant was between the Captain and the Legionary.
The Lieutenant was an excellent swordsman. His legs were set properly for advancing or retreating. His shoulders rotated to provide the smallest target. And, his sword held up to parry or attack as the fight progressed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a fair fight.
Alerio allowed a flurry of clashes with his left gladius against the Lieutenant’s right-handed sword. Then, the Legion weapon’s instructor parried the Greek officer’s blade to the side while stabbing with his right blade. The rebel Li
eutenant folded up around the deep belly gash and sank to the floor.
Speckled Pheasant could have joined in the fight sooner. But he was delayed by the weight of the dead Lieutenant’s body. If nothing else, the Captain was persistent. His fixation on having a shield was time consuming and, by the time he turned the dead man to face Alerio, the second revolutionary Lieutenant was laying and dying in a pool of blood.
“One thousand Republic gold,” Speckled Pheasant said.
Whether it was an offer or just to see if he could distract Alerio, didn’t matter. The Legionary stabbed through the side of the dead Lieutenant and skewed the fleshy flank of the rebel Captain. In pain and surprise, Speckled Pheasant dropped the body. As it fell, the tip of the gladius tore from his side, widening the stab wound. Speckled Pheasant sank to his knees.
Alerio retrieved his gladius from the dead man and wiped the blade on the man’s shirt. Then, he angled both gladii over his shoulders and slid them into the scabbards.
“Speckled Pheasant. Pay attention,” he said standing over the bent and crying Captain. “You are about to die. Make peace with what every God will have you.”
The Captain lunged with his knife. It slid along the underside of Alerio’s left forearm. As blood poured from that arm, the Legionary used his right hand to pull the curved dagger with the yellow band on the hilt.
It flashed once horizontally. Speckled Pheasant began to gurgle as bubbles of blood formed at his neck. His eyes opened wide, staring at the Legionary.
“Goodbye Captain,” Alerio said as he drove the dagger tip through Speckled Pheasant’s eye and into his brain. “Giving you a chance to pray was a mistake. I was taught better. The next time, I’ll remember to never give my opponent a chance to counterattack.”
Alerio flipped up the hood of his cloak and strolled behind the bar. After snagging a clean bar rag and wrapping his forearm, he headed for the door.
Outside, Horus paced back and forth. The rebel guards were tied up and lying face down. The bar owner and everyone else had run off. Most of them didn’t want to be involved. But, one man decided there might be a reward if the renegades knew their Captain was in trouble.
Alerio pushed through the door while holding the wound closed.
“Can you run?” Horus asked as he rushed to the young Legionary’s side.
“Yes. Just a little leak,” Alerio replied then he staggered.
Horus grabbed one arm while Corporal Thornernus took the other.
Before they stepped off, Thornernus looked over his shoulder and ordered, “Scatter.”
The three masked Legionaries dashed off into the night. Alerio matched the pace of the two men holding him up as they jogged down the boulevard towards the dock. Behind them, like rats emerging for cheese, thugs began to stream from alleyways.
By the time they had the four rebel bodyguards untied and a direction, Alerio was already handed off to the heavy infantrymen. Horus and Thornernus drifted away into the shadows. In five heartbeats, a gang of renegades gathered on the boulevard at the end of the pier.
“We’re going to search that ship,” one stated. “Move aside!”
The Decanus glanced over his shoulder then back at the rebels.
“What ship?” he asked.
“That ship. The ship where you took the killer,” shouted the thug.
“If there’s no ship,” the Squad Leader asked. “How could we have loaded a killer on it?”
“What are you deaf as well as blind?” demanded the rebel.
The Lance Corporal looked over his shoulder at the two heavy infantrymen standing behind him.
“Did they just insult the Consuls?” he asked. “And threaten the stability of the Republic?”
“That’s what I heard,” one replied.
“It’s treason to call the Consuls blind as well as deaf,” the other replied.
“Half squad. Form up,” the Decanus ordered. “Forward march.”
Suddenly, the dock shook as their left feet came down and when the right stomped, the dock thundered.
The thugs failed to grasp the significance. Five infantrymen slammed big shields into the rebel’s faces knocking the men to the pavement. Then after a painful hammering, the Legionaries stomped and ground the agitators into the stones of the pier.
Alerio heard the stomp and cries of agony as the ship’s medic guided him down to rower’s deck.
“What was that?” the medic inquired.
“Oh, just the infantry keeping the ship clear of rats,” the sailor on watch replied.
“That’s excellent,” the medic observed. Then to Alerio he said, “Come on young man, let’s get that arm sewn up.”
The End
A note from J. Clifton Slater
Thank you for reading the 1st book in the Clay Warrior Stories series. While Clay Legionary incorporates fantasy elements in the form of Alerio fighting with two gladii and the introduction of the Sweet Fists, at its heart the book is historical fiction.
The Legions of the mid Republic period were not the regimented standing armies of the Imperial Roman Legions. Disbanded after every Consul/General returned to the senate, a majority of the time the Legions were garrisons in strategic locations. However, the training of recruits made even the early Legions a formidable fighting force.
In future books, Alerio will encounter politics, treachery, and conflicts between the powerful city states of the era. Hopefully, you enjoyed the historical adventures as much as I enjoyed researching and writing them.
If you have comments please contact me.
J. Clifton
E-Mail: [email protected]
FB: facebook.com/Galactic Council Realm & Clay Warrior Stories
Spilled Blood
Clay Warrior Stories
Book #2
J. Clifton Slater
Spilled Blood is a work of fiction. While some characters are historical figures, the majority are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
I’d like to thank my editor Hollis Jones for her work in correcting my rambling sentences and overly flowery prose. Also, I am grateful to Denise Scherschel for her help in structuring the book. Her amazing illustrated book Zippy McZoomerman Gears Up is a must read for children with disabilities.
I also own a debt of gratitude to T.R. Harris, author of The Human Chronicles Saga, and Tom Keller, author of Vegas Fae Stories, for coffee, advice, and guidance.
J. Clifton Slater
E-Mail: [email protected]
FB: facebook.com/Galactic Council Realm & Clay Warrior Stories
Spilled Blood
Content
Spilled Blood
Act 1
Chapter 1 - The Voyage and the Conflict
Chapter 2 - Put Your Coin Where Your Mouth Is
Chapter 3 - A Proper Position
Chapter 4 - The Capital City
Chapter 5 - The Chronicles Humanum Inn
Chapter 6 - Scourge of the Upper Class
Act 2
Chapter 7 - Fashion of the Day
Chapter 8 - Making Friends with the Local Crew
Chapter 9 - A delaying Tactic
Chapter 10 - Historia Fae, Armorer to the Gods
Chapter 11 - Chronicles Humanum Inn
Chapter 12 - Night Watch on the Wall
Chapter 13 - A Little Jog and a Reminder
Chapter 14 - Fireguard District
Chapter 15 - New Clothes, Same Old Attitude
Act 3
Chapter 16 - Fireguard District
Chapter 17 - The Wine Trough
Chapter 18 - Villas of the Influential
Chapter 19 - Proprietor, Writer, and Gossip
Chapter 20 – Thomasious Harricus’ Father
Chapter 21 - Sage Advice from the Clay Ear
Act 4
Chapter 22 - Heat, Time, and Muscle
Chapter 23 - Street Crime and The City Guard
Chapter 24 - The Firebreak District
Chapter25 - Following the Path to Stata Mater or Mars
Chapter 26 - Chanting and Killing
Chapter 27 - Thirty-three City Blocks
Chapter 28 - Blood of an Ally
Act 5
Chapter 29 - Hunting the Clay Ear
Chapter 30 - Persuasive, if Misleading Speech
Chapter 31 - Little Clay Ears
Chapter 32 - The Qart Hadasht
Chapter 33 - The Festival of Janus
Chapter 34 - Colonel ‘Champ’ Nigellus
Chapter 35 - The Festival by Night
Chapter 36 - Securing Transportation
Chapter 37 - Aromataque et Saccharo
Chapter 38 - Two Things
Chapter 39 - Walking on Air
Chapter 40 - Nice Evening for a Moonlit Drive
Chapter 41 - Discipline, Death, and Intelligence
Act 6
Chapter 42 - Fire Watch
Chapter 43 – Hold the Line Lads, Hold the Line
Chapter 44 - An Ally in Need is an Ally Indeed
Chapter 45 – Trolls
Chapter 46 - A Colonel Trumps an Insubri Prince
Chapter 47 - Troll Bait, Not Today
Act 7
Chapter 48 - Two Teams, Two Missions
Chapter 49 - A Swordsman, an Orator, and Rowers
Chapter 50 - The Tiber Team
Chapter 51 - Pig Farmers, Fishermen, and the Tiber
Chapter 52 - The Tiber Run
Chapter 53 - The Port of Ostia
Chapter 54 - Shifting Sands and Shifting Stances
Chapter 55 - Ballista Love
Chapter 56 - The Luna Team
Chapter 57 - Arrow Loops
Chapter 58 - A Northern Forest in the City
Chapter 59 - Dawn at the Ventus’ Compound
Chapter 60 - Waking, Sleeping Barbarians
Chapter 61 - A Cubiculum Fit for an Insubri Prince
Chapter 62 - The Signal to the Qart Hadasht Fleet
Act 8
Chapter 63 - A Diamond for the Colonel
Chapter 64 - Maneuvers to the Capital Grounds
Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 1 Page 22