Spilled Blood, page 15
part #2 of Clay Warrior Stories Series
Alerio pulled in his elbows as hands reached for him. The remaining rowers had circled him and were trying to grab on and drag him to the deck.
“Who are they? We shout. They’re in the valley to murder our families,” he sang as he used the hilts of the gladii to punch and gouge at the sailors. “We’re here to kill, those homicidal savages. Hold the Line Lads, Hold the Line.”
His attack rocked back a sailor leaving a gap in the circle. Alerio bent his knees and, catching the rowers off guard, he vaulted out of their clutches. In two hopping steps, he reached the ramp.
Three sailors paused then made a decision. They ran for the ramp. Alerio snatched up his shield and sprinted for the corner of the warehouse. Behind him, the rowers were roaring as they reached the dock.
Six City Guardsmen met the rowers.
“What happened?” one asked.
When the mute sailors attempted to push aside the guardsmen, they were beat down. One guardsman saw a Legionary running with a shield flying behind him.
“There,” he shouted directing the other four. “One’s getting away.”
The guardsman left the unconscious sailors and ran toward the warehouse.
At the west gate a trumpet sounded one long note. The guardsmen who beat the sailors and chased after Alerio had come from the east-west boulevard. One roving patrol from the north-south boulevard angled toward the docks. What Alerio couldn’t know was another patrol from the south gate responded to the trumpet. When they reached the Golden Valley trading house, they split with two guardsmen going behind the compound while the other three kept to the road.
Alerio sprinted down the line of warehouses. When he cleared the last building, he was confident he’d gotten away. As he reached the corner of the Golden Valley’s walls, two guardsmen holding lanterns rounded the far corner. He turned towards the road in front of the trading house, but three more guardsmen appeared.
From between the warehouses, four guardsmen approached and searched every dark corner as they came. Alerio looked hard at the city’s thirty feet high defensive wall, realized he couldn’t scale it, and resigned himself to surrounding.
A noise drew his attention. As if someone had dropped an armload of kindling against the wall, the wood tapped, tapped, tapped from high up on the trading house wall to waist high.
Chapter 44 - An Ally in Need is an Ally Indeed
“Climb Legionary,” a voice whispered from atop the trading house’s wall.
Alerio slipped the shield’s strap over his shoulder and slung the big shield onto his back. As the heavy infantry shield settled, he jumped and clutched at the rope ladder. It took effort to climb hand over hand until he could get a foot on the first narrow rung. Once he had footing, he made short work of scaling the wall.
“Excuse me,” the man said politely.
He was squatting on the flat narrow top of the wall. Despite his precarious perch, the man reached around Alerio and began pulling up the ladder. Once he gathered the entire length, he dropped the flexible ladder down the interior side of the compound’s wall.
“After you,” invited the man.
Alerio glanced at the guardsmen as the two groups converged on the grass below him. Quickly, he swung his legs around and used the ladder to reach the interior courtyard.
The man jumped, fell for half the distance before grabbing one side of the ladder. It slowed his fall enough so when he released the rope, his final drop required only a slight bend to his knees to land safely.
“Welcome back to the Golden Valley trading house,” Favus said in greeting.
The merchant glided across the ground with almost no movement to his upper body. When he stopped a couple of feet from the Legionary, it was as if he had been standing there the entire time.
“I appreciate the assistance, again,” Alerio replied.
“Are you injured?” Favus inquired.
“A few cuts and a lot of bruises,” replied the Legionary. “Nothing that requires medical attention.”
“I am pleased,” Favus exclaimed. “Because I need to speak with you. And I want to show you something. Follow me.”
From standing still in front of the Legionary, the merchant ghosted to a dark open doorway in the rear of the trading house. Alerio had to rush to catch up. As he jogged across the courtyard, it occurred to him the merchant might be more than a trader in exotic goods. Favus might be an assassin of the Dulce Pugno.
Inside the storeroom of the trading house, Favus guided him to a two-course wide brick stairway.
“I can lower a rope and pulled you up,” Favus offered as he nimbly took the first five steps.
“Unnecessary,” Alerio assured him as he unstrapped the shoulder armor. “Is it alright to leave the armor here?”
The man who had helped him over the wall took the shoulder, the chest and back pieces.
“It’ll be here when we’ve finished,” the merchant explained as he started up the stairs.
The former farm-lad followed the merchant as the steps doubled back four times before Favus stopped. He reached out and pushed a cover. Stars appeared in the opening and Alerio realized they were just under the roof of the trading house. Soon they were on the roof tiles and squatting beside each other on a flat piece of slate.
They stayed like that for a long time before Alerio broke the silence.
“It’s a beautiful view of the Capital City,” Alerio said.
“Look over to the northeast between the four lanterns,” Favus ordered. “Watch as they blink out and quickly relight.”
He held a stick level and used it to guide Alerio’s eyes to a place across the city. Sure enough, the lanterns went dark momentarily before resuming a steady glow.
“Those are your five Legionaries on the street before the inn,” Favus stated. “They avoided the guardsmen and should be back with your Colonel shortly.”
“Thank you. That takes a load off my shoulders,” Alerio confessed but a questioned occurred to him. “How did you know the Colonel was at the inn?”
“The same way I knew you plucked the Insubri Prince from the Qart Hadasht ship,” answered Favus. “The same way the Clay Ear gathers information. I have spies throughout the city.”
“I’d expect nothing less from the Dulce Pugno,” Alerio stated testing to see the merchant’s reaction.
“Ah my friend, we don’t use that term in the city,” Favus replied.
As Favus didn’t deny being an assassin from the Sweet Fist, Alerio tried a harder question, “Did you accept a contract on Senator Ferox?”
“We do not discuss our customers. Not who the customer is or what they purchase,” the assassin explained. “However, I can assure you, we did not take a contract on Senator Faunus.”
“Of that I’m sure,” Alerio said with confidence. “Senator Faunus’ assassination was a bloody street brawl. Hardly an elegant execution of a secret contract.”
“Thank you for realizing that,” Favus said accepting the compliment to his skills. “Senator Faunus is why I wanted to speak with you in private.”
“I’m here. And based on the numerous City Guard patrols I can see,” Alerio stated. “I’m not going anywhere for a while.”
“Trading houses of the Golden Valley do not get involved in local politics,” Favus explained. “In most cases, a change in leadership makes no difference to our trade. We trade with the Republic, the Rebels opposing you, the Greeks, and the Qart Hadasht Empire. The groups we do not trade with are the northern and western tribes. They take before trading and kill before negotiating. Until they provide safe trading, we deem it fitting to assist you.”
“Assist me how?” asked Alerio. “Kill Vivianus? Take out Gabrielus? Either would be appreciated.”
“No. The Senator is the Senate’s business,” Favus informed him. “The barbarian Prince Gabrielus is a different story. I may be able to provide proof of his involvement in Senator Faunus’s murder.”
“How? The reports say nothing was stolen, even the ropes and staff of his office were found on the body. There’s nothing to connect Gabrielus to the crime,” Alerio declared. “As much as I appreciate the offer of help, I’m afraid the word of a merchant wouldn’t be enough to tie him to the assassination.”
“Senator Faunus’ wife was once a Priestess of Luna,” Favus explained. “To honor the moon Goddess she served, she wore an amulet. Hidden under her blouse should have been the trinket; a gold half-moon against a blue sky of crushed sapphires with moonstones as stars. It depicts Luna driving a two-yoke chariot pulled by a team of charging bulls across the sky. The amulet was a gift from the Senator when he was a Tribune. She never went anywhere without it. It was not found on her body.”
“How does locating a piece of jewelry help?” asked Alerio. “And how do you know about the missing jewelry?”
“The Clay Ear didn’t know? My source was in the Senator’s home, not waiting at the wash racks,” a self-satisfied Favus stated. Then he continued, “The Insubri like shiny trophies. If the amulet was taken during the attack, one of the killers will have it.”
“If Gabrielus’ men ambushed the Senator,” Alerio ventured before pausing. “Are you saying Gabrielus has the amulet?”
“I am not saying he definitely has the amulet,” admitted the merchant. “What I know is the Insubri Prince has a chest in his room full of trinkets. If he is in possession of the Luna charm, it will be in that chest.”
“Will you get it for me?” asked Alerio hopefully.
“There is a legal term; chain of custody. If I were to hand you the amulet, who is to say it wasn’t me who murdered the Senator,” advised Favus. “No, Ally of the Golden Valley, I can’t touch the charm. On the other hand, I can return you to the inn.”
“How? There are active patrols across the city,” Alerio reminded the merchant.
“We have a delivery for the grandstand at the festival leaving shortly,” explained Favus. “A harness on one of the horses could come loose. When the wagon driver stops to adjust it, a stowaway could slip out of the wagon, and steal away into the dark.”
Chapter 45 - Trolls
The snatch team of Legionaries had crossed the boulevard as the alarm went out. With City Guards rushing around, they were forced to duck into an alley. Fortunately, all the guardsmen eventually headed for the harbor. Moving quickly through the shadows, the five men and the barbarian Prince remained undetected as they crept back to the inn.
“Where’s Lance Corporal Sisera?” Gratian asked as they came through the side gate.
“We have the barbarian,” the two big Legionaries offered.
They shoved the prisoner forward as if to provide evidence.
“Take him to the Colonel,” Gratian ordered while motioning the two Legionaries towards the inn. Then he grabbed another member of the team and demanded, “Where is Sisera?”
“He ordered us to leave,” the Legionary replied. “He said our only job was to get the barbarian to the Colonel.”
“But where is he?” insisted the Corporal.
“The last time we saw him,” another reported. “He was on the boat surrounded by trolls.”
“Surrounded by what?” an astonished Gratian asked.
“Trolls, Corporal. The Qart Hadasht boat was guarded by trolls,” repeated the Legionary.
“He’s right,” another confirmed. “Trolls right out of mythology.”
“Why didn’t you help him? How did you get away?” Gratian inquired. “Weren’t you also surrounded by, by the trolls?”
“No, Corporal. I was on a merchant ship talking to a sailor from Beneventum,” replied the Legionary. “But they were trolls, I can assure you.”
Gratian beckoned the three remaining members of the snatch team over to where the lantern light was brightest. He studied each man’s armor, shield and helmet. There wasn’t a blood splatter on any of the three.
“And, where were you?” he asked another one.
“Talking betting with an old sailor,” replied the Legionary. “He has some interesting ideas on picking winning chariot teams.”
Gratian held up a hand to stop the man and asked the third member, “And, what were you doing while Sisera was surrounded by trolls?”
“Singing Corporal. I was singing,” the Legionary stated.
Before the NCO could ask another question, Centurion Kellerian shouted from the backdoor. “Corporal Gratian. Front and center.”
“We’ll talk later,” he said to the three confused Legionaries. Then he jogged for the inn and disappeared through the doorway.
“Trolls? Did you say Lance Corporal Sisera was killed by trolls?” asked a Legionary as he and several others gathered around the snatch team.
“Yes. Trolls. Thickly muscled like oxen with no necks,” one replied. “And they didn’t speak. Just screeched and growled as they clawed at him.”
“That’s an ugly way to die,” a newly arrived Legionary ventured. “They probably ate him.”
His declaration was agreed upon unanimously by the crowd. Then, each Legionary went to tell the tale of the trolls to his squad.
Chapter 46 - A Colonel Trumps an Insubri Prince
Corporal Gratian rushed down the hall. He pushed through the double doors and entered the great room. His two big Legionaries flanked the barbarian. The three were standing in front of a table. Thomasious Harricus and Colonel Nigellus sat at the table looking at the barbarian. Centurion Kellerian paced the floor off to the side. Everyone turned at the sound of the doors swinging open.
“Sirs. Corporal Gratian, reporting as ordered,” he announced.
“Gratian. Did all the team make it back?” Nigellus inquired.
“No, sir. Lance Corporal Sisera is missing,” the NCO said. He kept his tone professional yet his true emotion showed through as he bit off each word.
“Any wounded?” the Colonel asked.
“No, sir. No medical attention or equipment repairs required,” he replied while scanning the last two members of the snatch team.
These two at least displayed some blood splatter. Although it wasn’t what he’d expect after an assault.
“Our barbarian here refuses to talk with me,” the Colonel advised. “I wanted you here so there was no confusion.”
“Confusion, sir?” inquired Gratian.
“Yes, Corporal. I don’t want my orders misconstrued,” Nigellus explained as he shoved back his chair and stood. He turned to face the prisoner before continuing, “In the morning, you will take the barbarian to the nearest open park and crucify him. Is that clear?”
“I understand sir. If I might make a request?” asked Gratian. “I’d like to saw off his feet before he goes up on the wood.”
“But he’ll bleed out and die,” the Colonel complained. “I want him to suffer.”
“He’ll suffer, sir,” the Corporal promised. “We’ll tie off his thighs to stop the blood loss. Of course, we’ll need to tie the tourniquets painfully tight around his thighs to stop the bleeding at his ankles. If that’s enough pain for you, sir?”
“It’s agreeable to me. Centurion Kellerian. Your opinion?” asked Nigellus.
“Colonel, treatment like that is savage,” the Centurion said with horror in his voice. “Crucifixion is one thing. But you’ll have the Corporal mutilate, ah, what’s your name?”
Everyone stopped as they waited for the barbarian to reply. Five heartbeats later he did.
“I am Prince Peregrinus of the Insubri,” he announced. “I am not afraid to die.”
“The crucifixion wouldn’t kill you. Unless I leave you up there for several days,” explained Colonel Nigellus. “No, Prince. The Corporal will cut you down after a few painful days. You won’t die. But, if you want to walk around, you’ll need to learn to balance on stumps.”
Peregrinus tilted his head and stared down at his feet. When they saw him wiggle his toes through the ends of his sandals, they knew he was prepared to talk.
“Tell me Prince Peregrinus. Who is Gabrielus to you?” asked the Colonel.
“He is my brother,” the barbarian blurted out. “Taken to your Republic when he was just a teen.”
“You see. Talking to me is preferable to the alternate,” Nigellus said evenly. “Why were you on the Qart Hadasht ship? What did you and your brother discuss?”
Peregrinus looked out the front windows of the inn. Outside, the moon had set. The dark had deepened as it did every morning before dawn’s first rays. As if having decided something, he turned back and smiled.
“I accompanied the Ambassador here to wait for my warriors,” Peregrinus proclaimed. “Once Qart Hadasht has control of the city, the Insubri will take control of the surrounding territory.”
“And how does Qart Hadasht plan to control the Capital City of the Republic?” inquired the Nigellus. “The Ambassador’s ceremonial squad couldn’t hold a tradesmen’s block of real estate against the Legion.”
“But Colonel, there are few Legionaries in the city,” Peregrinus reminded the group. “After a signal, the Qart Hadasht navy will deliver more than enough troops to capture your city.”
“Signal? What signal?” demanded Kellerian. “Tell me now before I start removing body parts.”
“I don’t know the nature of the signal,” Peregrinus exclaimed. “Just that a signal will alert the ships waiting off the coast.”
The port of Ostia was located nineteen miles to the southeast. Where the Tiber dumped its yellow, brown water into the blue ocean, the Republic had established a port for large merchant ships and the patrol boats of the navy. A signal would have to be seen miles out to sea in order to signal the Qart Hadasht’s ships.
“A swift courier could reach high ground after a hard ride. From there, the ships could see a signal fire, if they knew where on the mountain to look,” Thomasious Harricus ventured. “But why wait to attack? Unless they want the city as empty as possible.”
“They could close the gates locking out a majority of citizens and festival attendees,” Kellerian added. “But what would they do with the city and a countryside occupied by the Insubri?”
