After a few blocks, he turned right on a dark road and started up into the hills. When he reached the edge of the settlement, he stopped and looked back. Over the town, across the moon lit waters, and slightly to the north weak lights from the city of Messina glowed softly. The only thing he could gather from the view; Messina seemed to be about the size of Rhegium.
Alerio retraced his route downhill and ended up at the docks. Running along the piers, he noted the number of valuable merchant ships lashed to the pilings. They were anchored, just two-arrow flights distance from where the pirates known as the Sons of Mars lived in Messina. At the end of the dock, he jogged in a half circle and headed towards the garrison.
Lighting a lantern at the gladius training pit, he secured two wooden training gladii from the supply shed. Once loosened up, he began to attack the training post. In short order, he was running simultaneous right and left sword drills.
“Up early, Sisera?” a voice asked loud enough to be heard over the hammering of the gladii.
With a final slap at the post, Alerio turned and blinked away the sweat from his eyes.
“Good morning, First Sergeant Gerontius,” he said once he identified the speaker. “Seemed like a good idea to get a workout in before reporting to you.”
“I’m heading to the baths,” said the senior Optio. “Put away your toys and join me. There are a number of things we need to discuss.”
Alerio shelved the heavy wooden gladii, blew out the lantern, and ran to catch up with the Southern Legion’s First Sergeant.
They soaped in one bath, rinsed off in another, and did a final cleansing in a third. Then they sat on benches with curved brass scrapers, slushing off the water while massaging their muscles.
“Do you know what Tribune Velius does for the Legion?” Patroclus asked as he scoured at his moist skin.
“Planning and Strategies I assume,” replied Alerio. “Although I’m not sure what that is to start with.”
“Before a Legion takes the field, it gets a number of things. New recruits to create squads so the Centuries are brought to full strength. A Senior Tribune from an important political family and a General chosen from the Consuls. Along with the General comes a gaggle of young Tribunes,” explained Patroclus. He stopped speaking as he reached back and scraped behind his shoulder blades. Once finished with the awkward position, he asked. “What do all those additions to the Legion have in common?”
“I’m not sure First Optio,” admitted Alerio. “What do they have in common?”
“None of them have military training, or the first idea of how to deploy a Legion,” Gerontius stated. “It’s why we have a full time Colonel, a Senior Centurion, a First Sergeant, and on the Century level, Centurions, Optios, Tesserarii and Decani. We are the military professionals who know maneuvers and how to fight a Legion.”
“So, for planning and strategies we need people experienced with battlefield tactics,” offered Alerio. “The Tribune and the Staff Optio are here to advise the command staff on the best way to approach an enemy.”
“But Lance Corporal, the Southern Legion hasn’t been ordered to take the field. We’re on garrison duty,” Gerontius proposed while slipping a duty tunic over his head. “There is something that comes before calling up a full Legion to fight. First, you’ve got to study and learn as much as you can about an enemy.”
“Intelligence. Tribune Velius and Staff Sergeant Octavian are gathering intelligence,” guessed Alerio.
“There’s another word for them,” Patroclus suggested as he walked to the exit. “Spies, masters of the dark arts. I’ll see you in my office at dawn.”
Chapter 18 - The Big Picture
“First Sergeant Gerontius. Lance Corporal Sisera reporting as ordered,” Alerio said as he entered the command building.
The sun had yet to appear over the mountains but the brightening sky qualified as predawn. Gerontius looked up from his desk. He eyed the olive tunic with the Decanus band of woven bronze thread around the right sleeve. Then, he shifted to the Legion gladius instructor tab on the young Legionary’s chest and the Eastern Legion Raider sash with a rising sun over cresting waves painted on the silk.
“Better than yesterday,” scowled the First Sergeant in appreciation of the duty tunic. Any sign of the relaxed conversation in the baths had evaporated. “You are meeting with Tribune Velius this morning. When he’s finished with you, report back to me for your orders.”
“Orders?” asked Alerio.
“Did I mumble?” inquired Gerontius. He jerked his thumb indicating a door behind his desk. “Don’t keep the Tribune waiting.”
Alerio circled the First Optio’s desk and pushed open a door. There he found a long hallway with doors to offices on one side and several small windows on the other. At the end of the hall, he opened a door and stepped into the large rear room. In front of him was the Staff Optio’s unoccupied desk.
“Lance Corporal Sisera. Kind of you to join me,” Tribune Velius said as if Alerio had a choice in the matter. “Let me assure you, I was very pleased with your report yesterday. As well as your heroic act in saving the women and children of the farming community. I suppose you have questions.”
“Good morning, Tribune Velius,” Alerio replied. “I have no questions, sir. Just reporting as ordered.”
“Perhaps you have no questions because you lack knowledge,” pondered Velius. He shuffled to an end of the large table. “Please, help me with this.”
The old Tribune gathered up a corner of the goatskin sheet with one wrinkled hand. He pointed to where he wanted Alerio. Together, they carefully lifted and folded the sheet until the lumpy items on the table top were revealed.
Puzzled at first by a shiny, wide ribbon of blue separating two brown lumps, Alerio studied the tabletop. Eventually, something looked familiar and he walked to the other end of the table.
“This looks like the inlet at Occhio and Point Ravagnese,” Alerio offered while pointing at a carved-out piece of brown next to the blue band.
“Very astute of you. In fact, this is a scale model of the Straits of Messina and the area of operation for the Southern Legion. Plus, the eastern coastline of the island of Sicilia,” explained the Tribune. “Think of it as the view a soaring eagle would have of the land and the sea.”
“It’s a map,” blurted out Alerio. “I didn’t recognize it. Everything is miniaturized like the toy Legionaries I had as a child.”
“Exactly. Oh, wait a moment,” Velius said as he walked slowly to a shelf and pulled down a big box.
He handed the carton to Alerio. Reaching in, he pulled out a handful of red triangles. Velius sidestepped around the table, placing the triangles along the eastern edge of the blue ribbon. Several times, he moved the symbols from one area to another. When he was satisfied with the placements, he returned to the box and pulled out a blue piece, a yellow piece, and a black disc.
The blue was placed on the lower end of Sicilia. The yellow on the far side of the island, and the black circle on the shore across the blue band from a group of red triangles.
“Red represents the Southern Legion along the coast of the Republic,” he explained. “Blue is the City State of Syracuse. Black indicates Messina just across the strait. And the yellow is territory controlled by the Qart Hadasht Empire. Until yesterday, the Empire was the focus of my attention.”
“Until yesterday?” Alerio questioned. “What changed?”
“Walk with me,” Velius ordered.
The old Tribune circled the table, stopping to stare at a section for a moment before moving on to another area. Alerio followed and felt foolish as he could have stood anywhere in the room and watched Velius move slowly around the big table. At the far end, where the Republic’s land curved around to the east, Velius put his finger on the map.
“The town of Bovesia at the Kaikinos River,” he said so softly Alerio could barely make out the words. “That’s where the answer is.”
“Tribune Velius. The answer to what
?” inquired Alerio.
“Come please,” Velius said. He walked to where two desks were shoved together. The extra space was necessary as the parchments and scrolls from the village at Occhio were stacked on the surface. “These are detailed shipping requests from Egypt to the Greeks. And, records of proposed payments from Egypt to the Athenians. All the documents are for the transportation of…”
Alerio waited for the Tribune to finish his thoughts. Except, he didn’t. He just stood there staring at the stacks. Finally, Alerio couldn’t stand the silence.
“For the transportation of what, sir?” he asked.
“Ah, now, young Lance Corporal Sisera, you have the question,” Velius said. He looked up from the parchment and studied Alerio’s face. “Can you find me the answer?”
“I suppose if I was stationed at Bovesia Garrison, I could ask around,” volunteered Alerio. “You said your focus changed. Changed to what?”
“The Illyrians. The Athenians. And, the Egyptians,” he replied. “Three potential enemies of the Republic that aren’t even on my map.”
Chapter 19 – Deception
Alerio was met in the hallway by the First Sergeant. Without a word, the senior NCO directed him into an office.
“Good morning, Senior Centurion Patroclus,” Alerio said when he saw who was sitting at a desk.
“Sit down Lance Corporal,” the office instructed without looking up from a piece of parchment. “Are you familiar with the term deception?”
“Yes, sir. It’s when I lower and wobble my left gladius. My opponent attacks thinking it’s my weak side,” Alerio offered.
“Isn’t the left arm weak for all Legionaries?” asked the puzzled Senior Centurion. He looked up from his reading material. “I thought we trained everyone to only use the right?”
“Sir, if I may,” broke in the First Sergeant to shortcut the dead-end conversation. “Sisera is a gladius instructor and is proficient with both arms.”
“I see. The analogy is a bit basic but it’s germane to the topic,” Patroclus admitted. “The Southern Legion is stretched over seventy-five miles of coastline. Not only are we under strength and drawn out, there are mountains separating our garrisons. We have no direct overland routes to reinforce any of our Posts. On top of that bowl of mush, we have known enemies across the strait and pirates and suspected enemies across the seas beyond it. That’s the cold hard truth of our existence.”
“Yes, sir. I understand,” said Alerio.
“So, to keep our enemies on their heels. As a swordsman, you should appreciate that description. We practice the art of deception,” explained the Senior Centurion. “Centuries and squads are shuffled regularly between garrisons. Frequent rotation leads our enemies to believe we have an abundance of Legionaries. That’s our first deception, but we’re adding another.”
“What’s the second deception, sir?” Alerio inquired.
“We’re adding a squad early,” the senior infantry officer replied. “Seventh and Eighth Squads will join Third Century within the year. As a bit of deception, we’re activating Eight Squad early. And you are the squad leader.”
“You’ve been assigned to Tribune Velius for a mission,” First Sergeant Gerontius explained picking up the narrative. “He wants you in Bovesia with the freedom to move around. We need to appear stronger, so we’ve combined the two. Congratulations, Decanus Sisera.”
“That’s Centurion Narcissus’ Century,” Alerio stated. “Aren’t they at Occhio.”
“Third is moving to Bovesia once First arrives in about four weeks,” Patroclus said. “First Sergeant Gerontius has your orders on his desk. And, Lance Corporal Sisera, I don’t know what you’re doing for the Tribune but watch yourself. You’ll be operating without a squad at your back. Dismissed.”
Alerio gave a salute, turned and followed Gerontius down the hall to his desk.
“This is a letter to Tesserarius Cephas. He’ll be posting duty assignments for Eighth Squad,” Gerontius instructed as he slapped Alerio’s hand with a rolled and sealed missive. “He’ll have the duty covered with other Legionaries. Just show up, walk the post like a real squad leader, then go be a spy.”
“First Sergeant, I didn’t ask for this,” explained Alerio.
“It’s not you I’m angry with,” Gerontius admitted. “It’s the Senate, the politics, and the lack of resources for my Centuries that gets to me. Good luck on your mission and be careful.”
“I always am, First Sergeant,” stated Alerio.
“Careful isn’t what I’d call taking on a ship full of Illyrians at Occhio,” the First Sergeant commented.
“I had acres and acres of grain fields at my back,” Alerio informed him. “At night, it’s the safest place in the world for a farm boy.”
“Get out of my office Sisera.”
“Yes, First Sergeant.”
Act 5
Chapter 20 – Mouth of the Kaikinos River
Five boats lay beached along the right side of the Kaikinos River. Three were large merchant ships and from the brace supports along the hulls, they were laden with goods.
The other two vessels were smaller intercostal transports like the one delivering Alerio to Bovesia Garrison. Used for moving goods between river settlements, the shallow draft merchants plied their trade up and down the coast. Never venturing far from shore.
***
Long before first light, Alerio had boarded the ship and met Captain Hadrian. The man was just a shadowy figure when they rowed away from Port Rhegium.
“Your ship seems low in the water,” commented Alerio to Hadrian.
“We have a load of olive oil and those amphorae rest heavy on the old girl,” the Captain replied. “Took them on the day before yesterday at Gioia Tauro. If all goes well, I’ll trade them for furs at Bonamico. If I can add a few more products, by the time I get back to the Capital, the owner will make a tidy profit.”
“Aren’t you the owner?” inquired Alerio.
“Very few of the sailors and rowers own their ships,” admitted Hadrian. “I get a bonus if the trip is profitable but I’m like the rowers, just an employee.”
“Then why do you do this?” asked Alerio. “Surely there are less dangerous ways to earn your coin.”
Alerio felt the vessel shudder as the rowers fought the northbound current along the shoreline. It smoothed out when they reached center channel of the Messina Strait. Catching the southbound current, the low laying ship moved on its own and the rowers relaxed.
“Ship the oars and lower the sail,” Hadrian instructed the rowers.
One of the four crewmen climbed the mast and untied lashings. Hemp rope lines hung from the top and the other rowers used them to attach the bottom of the sail to the rails. The wind hit the linen cloth and the ship’s speed increased.
“Dangerous?” laughed Hadrian once the crew had set the sail. “No Lance Corporal Sisera, this isn’t as deadly as fighting in a shield wall. Here, hold this steady.”
The Captain motioned for Alerio to take the rear facing oar. The handle vibrated from the force of water flowing over the submerged blade. Once Hadrian was confident Alerio wouldn’t turn his ship, he stepped to a trunk secured to the deck rail. From it, he lifted an old leather belt with a gladius sheath attached.
“When I was a young man, I signed up for the Legion,” Hadrian offered. “I was just out of training when my Century marched out to face an eastern tribe. Trained by Greeks they were. Imagine me standing shoulder to shoulder with my squad mates and out marches a formed and orderly line of tribesmen. I was shaking in my boots. The squad leader called for a new formation and my Right-Pivot shifted just before our lines clashed together.”
He stroked the hilt of the gladius and let a slight smile crease his sun-tanned face.
“The fates deem some for war and others for commerce,” Hadrian suggested. “I was barely set in the new formation when the tribe reached us. On the first advance, I shoved with my shield, withdrew it, and ran out my gladius. Then t
hings went terribly wrong. A spear smashed into the side of my helmet and this happened.”
Hadrian gripped the hilt and pulled it from the sheath. The blade was snapped off leaving only a quarter of its original length. He stared at the straight, clean break and shook his head.
The blade, what was left of it, shined as if newly sanded and oiled. And the old sheath was just as well maintained. Obviously, Hadrian took pride in the weapon.
“You could get a new gladius,” Alerio proposed.
“No, Decanus Sisera, while I lay on the ground, my squad stomped and pushed forward. When the second line passed over me, I was lucky to avoid their boots,” explained the merchant. “The fates, lad, the fates decided my future right there on the bloody battlefield. The next time I strap on this gladius, it’ll be for my funeral. Now give me back the oar. I get nervous when anyone but me pilots the old girl.”
They sailed by Point Ravagnese and Occhio inlet. Later, they left the straits and followed the distant shoreline on an easterly heading. The sun was high when Hadrian pointed to a town carved and built on rocky hills above the beach.
“There’s Bovesia. I’ll have to drop you in the water,” announced Hadrian. “I’m not making port here.”
“Not too deep, I hope,” replied Alerio.
“You’re a Legionary. You know how to swim,” commented the merchant.
“Not while carrying my gear,” admitted Alerio.
“Oh, you youngsters. Back in my day, in the old Legion, we swam fully armored while holding our javelins in our teeth,” boasted Hadrian.
“Really?” asked Alerio in amazement.
“Of course not, but it’s how us old timers like to remember the past,” Captain Hadrian said before shouting to his crew. “Roll the sail and man the oars.”
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