Marija tossed her head back and released a full belly, open-mouthed laugh.
“I wasn’t dancing. I was challenging the Athenians to come forward and fight,” she asserted. “There they were, bronzed helmets and shields on my pier, on my ground, on Macedonian soil. I was prepared to push them into the sea or die on their spears.”
“You were going to fight men in armor holding shields?” asked Alerio.
“I had my spear and my sword, so yes, I was prepared to fight,” Marija confirmed. “My family are Macedonian nobles and warriors. While other girls learned sewing, I practiced with the sword and spear. The very thought of an Athenian warship at my dock was infuriating. I was about to attack when my father’s personal guards arrived and held me back. While I argued and begged them to join me in the attack, this huge, half naked Greek steps from behind the soldiers. He struts up to me and hands me a carved piece of wood.”
Marija stopped talking and turned to gaze at Hyllus with adoration. The giant returned the look. They stared long enough for Alerio to feel he was intruding on a private moment. Finally, they broke eye contact, and Marija’s attention returned to Alerio.
“The nerve of this Greek to approach me and hand me a piece of wood. I had my arm cocked ready to toss it into the sea,” she recounted. “Before I could launch it, the captain of my father’s guard stopped me. Look, he said, it’s you. I peered at the block. Carved into it was the likeness of a wild haired woman with a face I recognized. My face.”
“I let my father’s guards guide me away. As darkness fell, I slipped back to the docks,” Marija explained. “The soldiers wouldn’t tell me who the big man was who carved so delicately in wood. It wasn’t until I began to yell at the Athenian ship that Hyllus reappeared.”
“She was screaming something about wanting to see the savage who carved her image,” Hyllus chuckled. “No one could get any sleep, so I went down to face the Macedonian banshee. I figured she assumed I’d captured her soul in the wood or some other mystical thing. I didn’t take my sword and shield although a few sailors suggested it.”
“So, there I was on the dock yelling over the armored line of men when he came strolling down the ramp,” Marija cooed. “I didn’t have my sword out so I don’t know why he stayed behind the soldiers. I held out the carving and demanded to know where he’d seen me before. It was too fine and couldn’t have been done in the short time I was at the pier. He insisted he did the carving while I was there and claimed he’d never seen me before. I challenged him to prove it.”
“She didn’t have a blade out, so I pushed through the guard line, and showed her my carving knife,” Hyllus said. “We walked to a deserted section of the dock and sat down under a lantern. With our legs dangling over the water, I carved, and we talked until the sun came up.”
“Unfortunately, he carved a mooring post so I couldn’t take it with me when my father and his guards arrived,” Marija complained as she took over the tale. “We jumped up. I told Hyllus, if we had a boat, we could run off together.”
“What saved me was the arrival of my Navarch and his guards,” Hyllus interjected. “During the standoff, I leaned down and kissed her. Then I ran for my ship.”
“He kissed me. Right in front of my Macedonian father and his Athenian Navarch,” Marija said with a sigh. “For decades, our people have been at each other’s throats. Seeing two of their people in love didn’t sit well with either of them. With the taste of his lips on mine, I floated between the armed men and headed home.”
“But if you went home and he rowed out with his ship,” Alerio asked. “How did you get back together?”
“A week later a boy delivered a carving to me. It was a scene of a merchant ship moored to a dock,” Marija replied. “I recognized the dock area and when I went to investigate, there was Hyllus sitting on the foredeck of a merchant vessel.”
“I resigned my position at the first commercial harbor,” Hyllus voiced his side of the tale. “I caught a ride with a merchant and after a number of ports-of-call, we arrived at the Macedonian capital. When it sailed in the morning, Marija and I were on it.”
“We couldn’t stay in Macedonia because of Hyllus, or go to Athens because of me,” Marija offered. “We got lucky when we found a ship heading for the Straits of Messina. Bovesia was the first stop after the ocean voyage.”
“We got off the ship to stretch our legs,” Hyllus described. “And never left.”
“Do you still carve?” inquired Alerio.
Marija stood and walked to a shelf. From it, she plucked a small block of wood and returned to the table. She handed it to Alerio. As if cast in clay or painted by a master, Marija’s face peered back from the carved block.
“Every shelf around the restaurant has carvings on it,” Marija explained. “Birds, animals, Legionaries, ships and mythological creatures, all carved by Hyllus.”
“It’s why there is no drinking inside,” Hyllus added. He collected the three empty mugs, the plate, and the platter. “Also, it cuts down on the fighting.”
“Thank you for the drink, dessert, and most importantly, the story,” Alerio said as he stood. “I need to go and get familiar with the rest of the town.”
“Don’t get caught by surprise,” warned Hyllus as he walked away with the dishes.
Chapter 24 – Bovesia, the Steep and Narrow Way
Alerio dodged between the sailors on the porch and reached the street. A stroll across the plaza carried him to another restaurant and pub. Unlike the Columnae Herculis, oarsmen with clay mugs flowed in and out of the building at will.
A few doors down and closer to the stairs, he encountered another tavern and dining enterprise. From inside muffled voices rose in sudden outbursts before the low mumblings returned. It was a typical gambling establishment with dejected losers sitting on the porch in groups sharing their misery.
Just before stepping down onto the first riser, Alerio glanced over the rooftops of the buildings on the next plaza’s level. Blue and gray water spanned the vista for as far as the eye could see.
While taking the stairs down, Alerio judged the width between the buildings to be about five shields wide. A squad of Legionaries could hold off an army on this walkway with a two-line formation.
The sun was low and most of the supply businesses had closed for the day. It made sense as the five boats on the beach two levels below had been there since midday. He meandered through the plaza looking at the merchandise and seeking someone to question. So far, Alerio was a failure as a spy.
He strolled down the stairs to the next plaza and thought about having another of the brews. But, he was full and the beer would lay heavy on his stomach. After crossing the plaza Alerio stopped at the top of the stairs and looked out over the ocean.
The sea rolled, birds dove at the swells, and clouds hung low on the horizon. Below, the five merchant vessels rested solidly on Bova Beach. Four of the firewatchers huddled together in conversation. One, however, was working on his ship’s hull. An idea formed and Alerio turned from the stairs. He walked back to speak with Pholus, the vendor who sold the delicious beer.
***
“Thirsty duty,” suggested Alerio as he approached the man working on the ship’s hull.
A clay bowl half filled with melted tar rested on iron legs over a small wood fire. Before answering, the man shoved a dowel into a sack of hemp fiber. With fibers dangling from the stick, he dipped them in the clay bowl. The resulting messy clump was set against the side of the boat. With his other hand, the sailor used a wedge to stuff the tar coated fibers into a gap between the boards. Once the fibers and tar were spread along a crease, he picked up a hammer. Tapping carefully along the newly placed sealant, he drove the waterproof material into the crease to seal the hull.
“Not so much thirsty as frustrating,” the workman said as he lay down the wedge and hammer.
“I’m new to Bovesia garrison and thought I’d get to know more about the ships that beach here,” Alerio said while h
olding out the mug. “I’ll trade you a beer for some information.”
“Why not. I couldn’t finish caulking this tub if the Captain gave me two full days,” the man exclaimed as he took the mug of beer. “What do you want to know?”
Alerio studied the ship, and although not a sailor, he realized the hull had many warped boards. This vessel needed a lot more hemp fiber and tar treatment to keep out the sea water.
“Why can’t you take two days to finish the repairs?” asked Alerio. “This seems like a safe harbor with food and beverage.”
“It’s a good port. I was surprised when the Captain said we’d row out at first light,” the man stated between sips. “I was eating when he charged into the diner and whispered that I needed to finish what maintenance I could before dark. So here I am, slopping and pounding until the light fails me.”
“What’s your next port?” inquired Alerio. “Is it close?”
“No. We’ve got four days of rowing and sailing to reach Syracuse,” the sailor reported. “It’ll be good to get home. If Favonius grants us a steady west wind and we don’t sink on the way.”
While they sipped beer, the man and Alerio talked about trading between ports, what cargos his ship hauled, and the man’s life as a sailor. All the while something was nagging at the back of Alerio’s mind.
When the beer was gone, the man went back to caulking his ship and Alerio strolled over to the other four sailors standing watch at their boats. After a few sea stories, he crossed the beach and started up to stairs.
At the first level plaza, he returned the empty mugs to Pholus. When he stepped on the stairs, Hyllus’ refrain came back to him, “Don’t get caught by surprise.”
Chapter 25 – Conjecture or Conclusion
Corporal Cephas had a look on his face as if he’d just bitten into a spoiled olive. He sat behind the desk in Second Century’s office and glared at the source of his indigestion.
“A merchant wants to row out at first light,” repeated the NCO. “I don’t see a problem with him wanting to get an early start on a long voyage.”
“It’s not that they’re leaving,” explained Alerio. “It’s the fact he hasn’t completed repairs. Why would a merchant be in such a rush to leave Bovesia in a leaky boat?”
“Sisera, you’ve just reported in. After you’ve been here for a time you’ll realize that all merchants, sailors, and oarsmen are crazy. Why else would they spend their days on the open sea?” questioned Cephas. “Look, with my Centurion at Headquarters with half the Century. And my Sergeant off training new Recruits, it leaves me in charge of the Second. I’m not about to round up five ships’ Captains and grill them on why they do what they do. Go get some sleep. You’re teaching a class in the morning.”
***
The sky blushed pink but no light appeared over the mountains. Alerio had completed his calisthenics and was sitting on a barrel running a stone over the blade of his gladius.
“Second Century, on the parade ground for training,” shouted Tesserarius Cephas when he marched from the Headquarters building. He glanced around as if looking for something. Then, he spotted Alerio. “I thought you over slept?”
“Good morning, Corporal. I’m an early riser,” replied Alerio as he hopped off the barrel. “Ran sprints, did long jumps, hand balancing, and stretched already.”
The sounds of men grumbling and putting on hobnailed boots came from the tents.
“Lance Corporals. Hurry them up,” Cephas called out to his squad leaders. “You’ll soon be burning daylight, and you know how much I hate waste.”
A short blast from the trumpet rang out followed by four more individual notes.
“The ships have rowed out,” announced the Corporal pointing to the stand on the rooftop of the building on the hill. “More will be rowing in this afternoon.”
“Is that how it works?” asked Alerio.
“Everything at Bovesia is like the tide,” described Cephas. “Ships roll in and roll out as steadily as the waves. When do you want to run the class? After the exercises or before?”
“Let’s do the training first,” replied Alerio. “That way, if I need to work one-on-one with some of them, I’ll be able to pull them aside.”
“Pretty confident you’ll find flaws, aren’t you?” asked Cephas.
“An Optio told me years ago you can always improve. If your technique is solid, then work on your attitude,” replied Alerio.
By now weak morning light had touched the bare ground and Legionaries were emerging from the four tents. In tunics without helmets or armor, they lined up with their shields. A rank of five backed up by a rank of four. The squad leaders, who would be the fifth men in the second ranks, adjusted the rows before marching to the head of each formation.
“Second Century. This is Decanus Sisera, a gladius instructor,” Cephas stated. “This morning he’ll be running you through some drills.”
Legionaries by virtue of their occupation and the training required to stay in the Legion were jaded, cynical, and suspicious. They didn’t give respect. It had to be earned.
Cephas knew this and after announcing Lance Corporal Sisera, he drifted back to watch the entertainment and read a scroll; one of many he needed to review. Being a Century’s Tesserarius and acting as the Sergeant was tough. Cephas had discovered that if he worked on small things while watching other things he could do twice the work.
“Who is your best swordsman?” Alerio inquired softly as if he were shy and unsure of himself.
An older Legionary stepped out of the ranks.
“That would be me,” the infantryman boasted. He drew his gladius and swung it through the air as he strolled towards Alerio. “Where do you want me to strike you? Low so it hurts or high so it shows?”
Behind the man, laughter ran through the ranks of Legionaries. In the Legion, if you professed to be a specialist, then by the gods, you’d better be extraordinary. Specifically, if you taught the gladius and shield. The weapons infantrymen used when they fought belly-to-belly against an enemy.
“That’s an interesting question, Private,” replied Alerio as he drew his own gladius. “Give me a second, please.”
More laughter rose from the formation as the Private said confidently, “Take all the time you need, gladius instructor.”
Alerio used a shuffling gate to cross the open ground to the hedgerows of thorn bushes. All the Legionaries watched as the Decanus reached into the shrubbery with his hand and the gladius. When he turned around, he held a long half inch thick branch. As he meandered back to the formation, he used his gladius to strip off the thorns. By the time he reached the Private, his blade was sheathed and he held the switch in his right hand.
“What’s your name, Legionary?” Alerio asked while running his eyes from his own hand and up along the length of the thin stick.
“Private Lupus. Right-Pivot of Second Squad,” the infantryman replied with a toothy grin. “Are you going to draw your gladius and fight? Or are you going to draw pretty pictures in the dirt with your stick?”
Corporal Cephas looked up from the scroll and shook his head in frustration. He was about to go rescue Lance Corporal Sisera and save him anymore embarrassment. He took a step when…
“Guard position,” ordered Alerio while raising the stick to cross Lupus’ blade. “Fight.”
The first thing Lupus did was pull his blade far to the side so he could swing back and cut the ridiculous stick in half. Before he could chop it, the switch rotated downward and snapped forward whipping the Private across his stomach.
Lupus swung the blade back and leaned forward to reach the instructor. But, Alerio recovered the stick and bent at his waist to let the gladius tip pass harmlessly by. The stick though, snapped forward and slammed into the Private’s right shoulder. Like the strike to the stomach, it wasn’t debilitating. But, it would leave an angry red welt.
Private Lupus lost his temper. With the gladius held low, he stepped forward and shoved the blade towards the L
ance Corporal’s midsection. It was intended to be a killing move. The tip and the heavy blade behind it hurled towards Alerio’s belly. Just before it ripped open his stomach, Alerio used the stick to shove the tip off to the side.
Stepping inside Lupus’ guard, Alerio rotated the switch upward. With momentum, the branch came from overhead and slapped Lupus’ left shoulder. Lupus shuffled back trying to get distance between himself and his tormentor. A single step at this close of a range and he could butcher the instructor. Alerio didn’t give him the opportunity.
As Lupus stepped back, Alerio stepped forward staying almost chest-to-chest with the Legionary. While their torsos were mirrored, the stick was busy slapping the Private on the head and neck. When Alerio tired of the head, he began to slap Lupus’ legs.
They had taken four steps when Alerio snaked a leg between Lupus’. A shove sent the infantryman down where he landed on his butt. To punctuate the lesson, Alerio placed the tip of the stick on Lupus’ forehead and pushed. Second Century’s top swordsman was forced to lay back and stretch out in the dirt.
“Never underestimate your enemy,” Alerio announced while he walked to stand in front of the formation. Pointing back to Lupus, he continued. “Private Lupus’ mistake was focusing on my weapon and not his training. The stick wouldn’t have stood against his gladius if he had dueled with me.”
Alerio gripped the branch in both hands. Raising it overhead, he bent the stick and it snapped with a loud crack. While demonstrating the weakness of the rod, he watched the eyes of the men at the side of the formation. That, along with listening, alerted him to when Lupus scrambled off the ground and charged at Alerio’s undefended back.
Pivoting to his right, Alerio bent his knees while drawing his own gladius. Lupus’ blade passed over his shoulder. But Alerio didn’t remain stationary. He spun completely around and smashed the flat of his blade into the Private’s back.
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