Chapter 65 - A Guest Speaker at the Senate
Chapter 66 - The Ladies in Blue
Chapter 67 - Blood Splattered Honor Guard
Chapter 68 - A Gathering of Witnesses
Chapter 69 - A Traitor by Any Other Name
Chapter 70 - A Chase Through Smoke
Chapter 71 - Battle on the Boulevard
Chapter 72 - Emergency Measures
Chapter 73 - A Change of Command
Chapter 74 - Riding the Gates
Chapter 75 - News from Ostia
Act 9
Chapter 76 - Chronicles Humanum Inn
Chapter 77 - Unfinished Business
Chapter 78 - Drop In? Introduce Yourself?
Chapter 79 - Fortress Counting House
Chapter 80 - Swift Luck and a Wizard
Chapter 81 – So Much Coin in One Place
Chapter 82 – Wheels of Reckoning
Chapter 83 – Vino to Celebrate
The End
A note from J. Clifton Slater
Books by J. Clifton Slater
Spilled Blood
Act 1
Clay is the fundamental nature or character of a person, according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary.
As with molded clay fired at 930 degrees Fahrenheit, a man, when subjected to the correct stress, is also transformed. From a pliable and malleable state, he develops mental and physical durability. While earthen clay becomes ceramic, a man becomes resilient.
A warrior is a person engaged in a struggle or conflict, according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary.
In the 3rd century BC, simply surviving day-to-day was a struggle. Adding to the hard life were ambitious men who craved power. While most people avoided engaging the anarchists, tribal chiefs, and king-makers, the Legions marched towards the conflict. Guarding the border between chaos and civilization were the Republic’s warriors; the Legionaries.
Clay Warrior Stories are novels inspired by the soldiers of ancient Rome.
Welcome to 266 B.C.
Chapter 1 - The Voyage and the Conflict
They say you can tell a lot about a man by his choice of friends and by his enemies. Alerio Sisera’s childhood friends were far away and out of touch in the western province. His Legionary friends were in the eastern region of the Republic and just as unreachable.
As for enemies, there were two. One enemy was a sect of assassins in the east. As long as Alerio stayed off their shores, he was safe.
A caveat, if he needed their help, he was considered an Ally of the Golden Valley and carried a symbol as identification.
The other enemy was a Republic wide crime syndicate going by the name of Cruor, or Spilled Blood.
Alerio heard the price on his head was seven Republic golds. Anyone to bring him in, alive or dead, could collect the bounty. If one went by coin count alone, the Cruor was a top-notch enemy.
There were also two other ways to know a man. The first, his chosen profession. As a Lance Corporal in the Republic’s Legion, Alerio’s record was short but bloody. According to the Legion classification, his specialty was gladius instructor and he was good at it.
Which leads to the last way to know a man. His experiences.
You could read certain skills on a man’s body. A blacksmith by the burn marks from hot embers flying while he pounded molten metal. A Lute player by the thick callouses on his fingertips. An archer by the buildup of tissue on the inside of his left forearm from assault by the bow’s string. For a swordsman like Alerio Sisera, the tales were told by the scars on his body.
Each scar was a permanent reminder of past sword fights.
The crescent shaped scar on the left top of his head was from an assassin’s dagger. On his right deltoid were two parallel scars from a single gladius thrust. Corporal Daedalus of the Capital City Guard installed the scars during a sword competition.
An assassin inflected the thin scar tracing the back of his upper left arm during a secret trial. And finally, two thin scars, one on the underside of his left forearm, and another on top of his right arm were both courtesies of a dead Rebel Captain.
You’d think that with all the scars and marks on Alerio that he had been part of this great earth for years. You’d be wrong. For even though Alerio was a man, he was a young one. Today he witnessed his seventeenth birthday. All of his scars had been earned in the two years since he reached the age of majority.
Of course, there were no friends to celebrate his birthday; conversely, there were Legion Marines wishing him anything except congratulations.
Chapter 2 - Put Your Coin Where Your Mouth Is
“Come on, one more time,” a Legionary Marine challenged.
“Put up your coin,” suggested Alerio as he swung the two gladii to keep his shoulders loose. “And, line up.”
The eight seagoing Legionaries were sweating. Not from the weather, the air was pleasant. And not necessarily from the competition, they were fit enough to fight all day long. Their perspiration was a direct result of their squad’s rapidly draining coin purse.
A short while ago, the squad had been running sword drills when a Legionary passenger climbed to the trireme’s upper deck. Legionaries worked out daily to keep their skills sharp and it wasn’t unusual for a military transit to join in the drills. What was unusual was the dual gladius rig strapped to the young man’s back.
“See that,” the Century’s Corporal shouted while pointing out the double sword harness. “A rooster. You can’t use two gladii effectively at one time. The only reason to carry two swords is if you’re prone to dropping one and need to carry a spare.”
The eight-man squad and their Lance Corporal laughed. Every Legionary knew to drop a gladius was to bring down hades on their head from an NCO.
“Or, the man totting two gladii is a showoff which is more dangerous for a unit’s integrity,” the Tesserarius continued as he warmed to the subject. “Strutting around like a rooster gets people killed. Which are you, Legionary? An incompetent or a rooster?”
Alerio Sisera’s armor and single gladius rested back in the eastern Legion’s quartermaster tents. All that identified him as a Legionary were the hobnailed boots and the hilts jutting from the scabbards of the dual harness.
“Lance Corporal Sisera,” Alerio replied. “And the answer is neither.”
“Where are you headed, Decanus Sisera?” the NCO inquired. He was a little shocked by the rank based on the age of the Legionary.
“The southern Legion,” answered Alerio.
Scattered laughter ran through the squad. The southern Legion occupied a thin line of Republic real estate across the Messina straits from territory controlled by the Sons of Mars, a band of mercenaries. The Legion guarded the merchants sailing through the straits. Actually, they spent most of the time fishing out drowning citizens after storms shipwrecked their vessels. Or, chasing after ships captured by pirates from Messina or pirates from Illyrian or the navy of the Qart Hadasht Empire. Rowing and fighting on the water were not seen as honorable. Land warfare, the might of the heavy infantry, was the backbone of the Republic.
While the eastern Legion chased Rebels, and full Legions in the west and north fought barbarians, the southern Legion played lifeguard and watched for pirates. Due to the lack of action, it provided little chance for learning battlefield tactics or getting promoted. The southern Legion was considered the cūlus of the Republic and one of the least desirable postings.
“I guess that answers the question,” the Corporal stated upon hearing the young Legionary was going to the southern Legion. “A screw-up based on your next duty station.”
Another round of chuckles ran through the squad.
“I am a gladius instructor,” Alerio announced trying to defend himself, his equipment, and his next assignment. Then he got angry and with spite in his voice added. “And based on the underwhelming display of swordsmanship I just witnessed, something your squad is badly in need of.”
As a Legionary weapon’s instructo
r, Alerio would happily spend the remainder of the sea voyage teaching. After all, being an instructor was the reason he had two gladii permanently issued to him. But his temper had gotten the better of him so the exchange was getting heated.
The Corporal had gotten laughs when he voiced his judgement. And, his ego was reluctant to let the Legionary’s announcement go unchallenged. Besides, the boy had insulted the swordsmanship of one of his squads. Nevertheless, he extended an olive branch.
The Tesserarius offered, “The reason you carry two gladii is to have one for a student and one for yourself.”
He was trying to untangle the confrontation with the cocky, young Legionary and save face in the process. The question was a way for both of them to back away from the conflict. But the Lance Corporal dashed the reasoning aside.
“No, Tesserarius,” Alerio bragged. “The reason I carry two gladii is, in certain situations, I fight with two swords.”
The Tesserarius of a Century shoulders a lot of responsibility. Broadly, one of them was treasurer and keeper of the unit’s coin. Funeral funds, pay for the individual Legionary, accounting for any amounts of money collected in taxes or fines for the Republic, plus he kept the Century’s logs. In addition to managing the funds, a Corporal was instrumental in selecting Lance Corporals for the squads and elevating specialist for extra pay. The position’s secretarial duties were so encompassing, they usually kept a Tesserarius out of a squad’s daily training activities.
Today, his Sergeant was meeting with the ship’s Centurion on the oar deck. After finishing the log early, the Corporal had wandered to the training deck to observe. For some reason, he decided to be a mentula and poke fun at the transit Legionary with the ridiculous dual rig.
The Tesserarius bristled at the stance taken by the young Legionary’s declaration. Using two gladii went against his experience, judgement, and standard military edict.
“I have a Republic silver that says you can’t fight with two gladii,” the Corporal challenged while holding up a shiny coin. It flashed in the morning light and the squad smiled at the bet.
Now it was Alerio’s turn to try and defuse the situation. He realized, after revealing he could fight with two swords, the missed opportunity offered by the Tesserarius’ student and instructor remark. Decanus Sisera’s assertion stomped on the peaceful resolution as if he had marched over a barbarian on a battlefield.
“I am at a disadvantage,” admitted Alerio. “I haven’t any armor. Although, I’ll be glad to run your squad through some drills.”
“Lance Corporal strip,” the Corporal ordered his squad leader. “Give your armor to Lance Corporal Sisera. I imagine you’ll have it back shortly.”
***
While Alerio slipped on the borrowed armor, he dropped a silver coin on the deck a couple of feet from the Corporal’s Republic silver. The unarmored Squad Leader carried over a collection from his squad and used it to bury their NCO’s coin.
Word went out and off-duty Legion rowers, sailors, and the bow officer strolled up and dropped more coins. Some next to Alerio’s silver, while others placed coins on the stack with the Corporal’s. Then the betters walked to the other side of the deck to keep the warship balanced. It went on like that for as long as it took Alerio to strap the dual rig over the borrowed armor.
Once the harness was strapped on, Alerio reached over his shoulders and drew both gladii. As they came fee, he twirled both before launching them into the air. The swords crossed high over his head and he effortlessly snagged both as they tumbled towards the deck. He finished the demonstration by running mirrored sword drills as he paced across the flat deck. He finished and turned to face the squad.
“Squad, standby,” Alerio shouted.
The Corporal and the squad leader were shocked that the young Legionary would issue an order to their squad. Before they could object and regain control, Alerio continued.
“Two files,” Alerio commended in a loud, no nonsense weapon’s instructor voice. In addition to the vocal instruction, he directed them with both gladii. Once the squad was formed up in two lines, he ordered, “Draw!”
The squad members were stacked four to a side and stood facing the young Legionary. At the order to draw, the training deck echoed with clicks as the steel gladii separated from their leather sheaths followed by a swoosh as each blade sliced the air. Quiet settled on the squad when the eight gladii hovered in the guard position.
The NCOs expected to see a sword fight. Instead, the young instructor walked down one file and adjusted some Legionaries feet and the sword positions of others. He worked down one side, turned around, and adjusted the other file. Once back at the head of the two files, he began to speak.
“In a shield wall, you’ll have enemies coming at you from the left and the right,” Alerio explained. “In this drill, you’ll be the enemy. Advance on me two at a time. I’ll treat you as you treat me. Fight hard and I’ll fight hard. Come soft and I’ll hold you on the line until your arm falls off from exhaustion. Go for blood, and I’ll send you to the medic. Clear?”
“Yes, instructor,” the squad shouted back.
The Tesserarius shifted his eyes longingly to the stacks of coins. Along with the Decanus, they were already saying goodbye to their bets.
“First two, advance,” Alerio growled. “Battle!”
On Alerio’s left, the Legionary was massive. He opened the assault with an attempt to smash through Alerio’s guard. After the instructor knocked the Private’s gladius to the side, the man received a hard smash to his shoulder. Alerio’s blow drove the thick Legionary off balance. He stumbled and ended up sprawled out on the deck.
“See me later for further instructions,” Lance Corporal Sisera said out of the side of his mouth.
Now the Legionary on Alerio’s right was a better than average swordsman. His only fault was his obvious dependence on the big man to create an opening for a strike. The Legionary lunged in while the brute was being discarded. Alerio slapped the man’s blade upward. On the down swing, instructor Sisera tapped the Legionary in the helmet with the flat of the blade. The man reeled away.
“In a shield wall, one strike, no matter how hard, will not end the fight,” Alerio explained. “Also, fight your own fight. Depend on the men to your left and your right to hold the line. But, your fight is with the man in front of you. Next two. Step up. Battle!”
The second set and the third set went smoothly for Alerio. He countered and instructed without even being touched by a gladius tip. It was the fourth set of Legionaries where the training got interesting.
The two Privates in the rear of the files had a chance to watch Alerio, strategize, and put together a plan. From what they’d seen, the Lance Corporal used basic blocks and strikes. He didn’t seem to be very mobile.
Alerio ordered, “Next two. Step up. Battle!”
The pair rushed forwards while chopping down powerfully with their gladii. It was a tactic reminiscent of the barbarians in the western region. As a young boy, Alerio had spent harvest times with a veteran Optio and Centurion. Among their many lessons was a discussion concerning this form of attack. They also drilled him on the best defense.
Two swords swung from overhead and driven by powerful shoulders were impossible to block without a shield. So, the best defense, in this case, was to not stand under the falling blades. At the last thump of a heartbeat, when the Legionaries’ blades were committed to the killing arc, Alerio tucked his gladii under his arms, bent his knees, and nosedived between the men.
He rolled, came up on his feet, and pivoted around. The two Legionaries were also turning, but they were a heartbeat behind the instructor. They each received a slap from the flat of Alerio’s gladii to the sides of their knees.
“The problem with a rash attack is you lose unit cohesion,” Alerio explained to the squad. The two Legionaries who attempted the dual smash lay behind him holding their knees and groaning. He pointed at the men laying on the deck while continuing. “It’s always adv
isable to use blade control in a coordinated attack. Any questions?”
“Come on, one more time,” a Legionary Marine challenged.
“Put up your coin,” suggested Alerio Sisera as he swung the two gladii to keep his shoulders loose. “And, line up.”
Chapter 3 - A Proper Position
There was one thing feared above all else by Legionaries, smart barbarians, and experienced savages. It was the bellow and wrath of an enraged Sergeant of the Legion.
“What in the blue cōleī, merda covered, Goddess forsaken hades,” yelled the ship’s Optio as he sprung onto the upper deck. “is going on here?”
Everyone froze. The Sergeant eyed the two injured Legionaries, the stacks of coins, his Tesserarius, and the unarmored Decanus. Then, he looked over the six standing members of the squad, and the Lance Corporal with two gladii gripped in his fists facing them.
“Who are you?” the Sergeant inquired with all the emotional feelings of a clay brick.
“Lance Corporal Sisera,” Alerio reported. “Gladius instructor.”
Everyone waited for Optio Chlotharius to explode. His language wasn’t near as legendary as his temper or the punishments he issued for infractions of his rules. And gambling on fighting competitions, on his ship while at sea, was at the top of his no-no list.
“Gladius instructor?” the Sergeant repeated. Then he tested the young Legionary’s statement. “Your evaluation?”
“Some sloppy gladius work,” Alerio stated. “But the biggest issue is unit cohesion during attacks. Nothing proper drilling and instructions can’t fix.”
The Sergeant stared at the young Legionary for a long time. Finally, he broke eye contact and strolled to the two piles of coin.
“Which one is yours, weapon’s instructor?” he asked.
“The smallest,” Alerio responded.
“Did you tell them you were an instructor before they placed the bets?” the Sergeant asked.
Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 1 Page 23