Spilled Blood, page 16
part #2 of Clay Warrior Stories Series
“Install a puppet ruler,” Thomasious announced. “One elected by the Senate, agreeable to the Insubri, and friendly towards Qart Hadasht. In other words, Senator Ventus.”
“Innkeeper, I’m hoping this flight of fancy you’re weaving is just that, a story,” proclaimed Colonel Nigellus. “In the event it’s not, it’s more important now that I speak with the Senate than it was before. Also, there’s the issue of stopping the Qart Hadasht navy.”
“Colonel, we have patrol boats docked at Ostia,” Gratian offered. “If they had enough warning, the navy could commandeer merchant ships and blockade the Tiber channel.”
“With the change of horses, it’ll take too long to get to Ostia,” the Colonel said. “Plus, we’ll lose time getting a man to the cavalry detachment, mounted, and on the way. It’ll take half the morning. By then, the signal will be active.”
“Give me three strong rowers and I’ll make the trip in less than half that time,” proclaimed Thomasious. “Erebus will be my fourth oarsman.”
“Master Harricus, I didn’t realize you included being a sailor among your many talents,” acknowledged the Colonel.
“As a young scholar, I studied the science of boat making and mastered the art of rowing,” responded Thomasious. “Also, as a younger man, I tested the theories by taking young ladies out for cruises on the Tiber. I can happily report; I was successful in all my endeavors.”
The Colonel stared at the innkeeper with an odd look on his face. Finally, he spoke to Gratian, “Corporal pick three men with rowing experience and have them stand by.”
As Thomasious Harricus rose from the chair there was a commotion among the Legionaries in the courtyard.
Chapter 47 - Troll Bait, Not Today
Alerio pushed through the double doors. To Corporal Gratian’s delight, despite the dried blood coating the Lance Corporal’s armor and helmet, the young Legionary was alive and seemed healthy.
“I can prove Gabrielus killed Senator Faunus,” Alerio exclaimed before realizing who he was talking too. “Sirs, I apologize for the outburst. Lance Corporal Sisera reporting.”
“What’s that you said about Gabrielus murdering Senator Faunus?” asked Centurion Kellerian.
“Maybe not him personally, but one of his trained barbarian squads. The Senator’s wife carried a trinket of Luna. It’s missing,” Alerio replied. “I have it on good authority, Gabrielus may have the amulet in his trophy chest.”
“Colonel. We know Gabrielus is supported by Senator Ventus. He promoted the barbarian to Tribune in the City Guard and allowed the open training of three squads of barbarians,” Kellerian said. “Having proof of the murder will help discredit the Senator. It’s one less vote you’ll need to stop the treaty.”
“If you walk into the Senate holding a charm, Senator Ventus will challenge you and the authenticity of the jewelry,” advised Harricus. “Let me get word to the High Priestess of Luna. She’ll be able to confirm and verify the amulet belonged to the Senator’s wife. No one will question the High Priestess.”
“Harricus. Send word and have her meet me at the Senate,” Nigellus instructed as he walked to the granite slab. He vaulted the counter and disappeared into the alcove. Reappearing a short time later, he held out a parchment, “Here’s a note to the Centurion at Ostia. It directs him to act in concert with acting Tribune Harricus to form a blockade of the Tiber. Oh, and congratulations Tribune Harricus on your enlistment.”
“I’d stay and buy everyone a drink to celebrate,” Harricus stated. “But I’ve got to go and save the Republic. After sending a note to the High Priestess, of course.”
Harricus jumped the counter and went to his desk. After writing quickly, he ducked into a supply closet before vanishing out the rear door. Once in the courtyard, he whistled one sharp note.
“Helier. Are you up there?” the innkeeper called out.
From the roof of the stable, a high pitched voice replied, “Yes, Master Harricus.”
“Well, come down here,” Harricus ordered. “I have a job for you.”
A lad of about thirteen rose from the dark. The lantern light caught his thin frame as he walked to the edge of the roof. Dropping to his belly, Helier swung his legs over the side and wrapped them around a center post. Half way to the ground, the lad’s decent stopped.
“What about the trolls, Master Harricus?” Helier asked. He was hugging the post as if deciding whether to finish the climb down or to go back up.
“Trolls? What are you talking about lad?” Harricus demanded.
“I heard the Legionaries. They said the trolls have fangs and sharp claws five inches long. And Master Harricus,” Helier admitted. “I’d feel safer on the roof.”
What Thomasious Harricus wanted to do was jerk the kid off the pole and scream, There aren’t any trolls.” But he was in a rush so he settled for the obvious.
“Lad, you are surrounded by forty Legionaries of the heavy infantry. The most terrifying fighting force in the world,” Harricus exclaimed. “Trolls wouldn’t stand a chance against these men.”
Three Legionaries wandered over and stood beside the innkeeper.
“Master Harricus is right lad,” one bragged. “The heavy infantry fears nothing. Not trolls, giants, or cyclops.”
“What about specters,” Helier asked with a little more bravado in his voice.
“Specters and will-o'-the-wisp are a problem,” another of the Legionaries admitted. “You can’t stab them with a javelin or cut them with a gladius. They…”
“Get down here,” Harricus ordered while interrupting the Legionary. “I’m in a hurry and I need you to run an errand. Now Helier!”
The boy slid to the ground and walked to the innkeeper.
“Take this note and this Empire gold to the High Priestess at the Luna Temple,” explained Harricus as he handed the lad three items. “The gold is an offering. The note goes to no one except the High Priestess. And this silver coin is for you. Mostly so you don’t run off with the gold. This is a serious situation. Can I trust you?”
Helier took the items and shoved them into an old pouch crisscrossed with patches.
“You can count on me,” the boy assured Thomasious.
“That’s why I called you,” he replied while looking up at the roof of the stable. “Instead of the other three hiding up there.”
With a grin that spread from ear-to-ear at the honor of being selected, Helier sprinted for the side gate.
Act 7
Chapter 48 - Two Teams, Two Missions
“Sisera. What do you need to procure the amulet of Luna?” asked the Colonel.
“A couple of men to fight our way in or out,” Alerio responded. “One should be an Officer, or an NCO, to act as a witness as to where we found the amulet.”
“Gratian. Besides the rowers, pick your most eloquent Lance Corporal. And, your best single combat swordsman to accompany Sisera. I need you and Centurion Kellerian with my formation,” commanded Nigellus. “Sisera, make no mistake, I want that trinket.”
“If it’s there, Colonel, you’ll have it,” promised Alerio. “By your leave, sir?”
“You and Corporal Gratian are dismissed,” Nigellus said. Then he added, “Corporal, get the teams together for Lance Corporal Sisera and Tribune Harricus. Once they’re away get back here. We have a lot to discuss.”
Chapter 49 - A Swordsman, an Orator, and Rowers
Corporal Gratian pushed through the double doors and jogged to the courtyard.
“Squad leaders, on me,” he announced before turning to Alerio. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, Corporal. Famished as a matter of fact,” Alerio replied.
“Who has extra food?” Gratian asked.
Four Legionaries sitting at four separate cooking pots jumped up. They all wanted to hear about how he survived the trolls. Each squad had assigned a cook for the evening. It was a competition as to which squad would feed the Lance Corporal and hear his story.
“Over here,” one called out.
“I make the best camp stew in the Legion,” another bragged.
“If you like boot leather,” challenged another cook. “Come dine with us Lance Corporal, our stew is better.”
A Legionary walked out of the dark and approached Alerio. He waved down the others.
“Lance Corporal Sisera. Come eat with my squad,” the Legionary offered. Alerio recognized him as the singer from the snatch mission. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t know if I’d have survived. All the stews are the same but with Fourth squad, you’ll have bigger portions. Both of your talkers are also Fourth and they owe you. So you’ll be among friends.”
Alerio nodded his approval at the invitation. As the two Legionaries strolled away, four Lance Corporal’s converged on their Corporal.
“I need three rowers,” he began. “Long haul oarsmen for an important mission.”
“Private Demetrius. His father’s an ocean fisherman,” First squad’s Lance Corporal reported. “The lad grew up rowing into waves and through swells. He’s got strength and stamina.”
“Private Celer. He’s from the eastern mountains,” Fourth squad’s Lance Corporal explained. “He grew up paddling in mountain streams. You ever try paddling a boat loaded with meat from two days of hunting up a mountain stream. He wouldn’t let you down.”
“I would advise you to select Private Pontus,” Second squad’s Lance Corporal announced. “Pontus has a deep affection for the sea. Although a farmer’s son from the flat lands, the Private spends every chance he can on boats. His future ambition is to become captain of a merchant vessel. I believe he’ll reach his goal. So, Private Pontus is a clear choice for your mission.”
“Alert Pontus and your right wing anchor,” Gratian said.
“Pontus, I understand. But why my second in command?” asked the Lance Corporal.
“Because Lance Corporal Iacchus, you’re going on a different mission,” advised Gratian. “Now I need a swordsman. I’m thinking Private Nereus from Fifth squad. Any objections.”
“Merda, Corporal. You’re sending the Wet One out on a mission?” Fifth squad’s Lance Corporal asked. “Do you realize when we’re in the city, the squad rotates a watch on him?”
“I don’t think his issues will be a problem on this mission,” the Corporal replied. “Get the rowers to Tribune Harricus. Iacchus. Collect Nereus and report to Lance Corporal Sisera. The rest of you, see to your men. We’re not sure what we’ll face in the morning so I want the men rested and ready. Any questions?”
The four squad leaders broke up to collect the men assigned to the missions. Corporal Gratian walked back into the inn to meet with Centurion Kellerian and Colonel Nigellus.
Chapter 50 - The Tiber Team
Thomasious stood by the stables speaking with Erebus.
“We’ll us two sets,” the innkeeper explained. “Rig up two of the big storage boxes.”
“It might work,” replied Erebus. “If the overnight shift is lax. If not?”
“We fight our way out,” Thomasious declared. “This is too important to waste time with bribes or a long questioning session.”
As Erebus went to rig up the boxes, three tall and lanky Legionaries walked up.
“Tribune Harricus. We’re your rowers,” one reported.
“Excellent. See my man behind the stables,” Thomasious ordered. “Two men to a box. Store your armor in the boxes. You’ll have to leave your shields. Where we’re going, it shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Yes, Tribune,” the three replied as they stacked their shields off to the side. Then, they disappeared into the dark beside the stables.
A short time later, a man in a robe holding the ends of long poles on his shoulders came from the stables and entered the courtyard. Behind the man was a large box suspended from the poles with another man holding the other ends of the poles.
Behind the first litter came a second box slung between poles and carried by the other two rowers. Tribune Harricus stepped into the gap between the two litters.
As the convoy rounded the side of the Chronicles Humanum Inn, every Legionary in the courtyard watched. They couldn’t figure why their best oarsmen were tasked with being porters. However, Legionaries see and do odd things in the name of the Republic. They figured this was simply another example of a weird mission.
The two litters reached the north-south boulevard and turned. Blocks later, they approached the southern gate. Harricus picked up his pace and arrived at the gate ahead of the first litter.
“Master Harricus, good morning,” the City Guard said in greeting. “Where are you heading so early? Most people are going out the east gate to attend the Festival of Janus.”
“Guardsman. When I was a lad, I couldn’t wait for festival days. I always got up early in anticipation,” Harricus explained. “Now that I’m an adult and a businessman, I still get up early. I get up early to buy fish and pig to sell to the festival attendees. It’s not the same kind of joy.”
“I understand,” the guardsman agreed. Then turning to his partner said, “Open the gate.”
The double doors swung open and Thomasious Harricus lead the procession through the gate. They marched out beyond the defensive wall following the dark road into the black of early morning.
Chapter 51 - Pig Farmers, Fishermen and the Tiber
Ahead in the dark, lanterns lit the right side of the road. Outlined by the lights were the fronts of fishermen’s huts. In the back of the huts was the river.
Huts might be giving the temporary hovels too much credit. There were two kinds of buildings on the riverbank. Because the Tiber flooded in the spring, some years only a couple of feet and others times ten to twelve feet, the construction types dealt with the rushing water in two ways. One type resembled the city harbor. Structures of massive brick work and natural stone constructed to withstand the raging water. Or, in the case of the fishing village, hastily built huts that were easily replaced when the water receded.
As the rowing team reached the huts they could see men preparing boats for the day’s fishing. Thomasious didn’t stop. Past the last hut, a larger structure loomed out of the dark. It was open sided. A high roof supported by thick columns of brick hung high over a raised floor of stone. On the riverside of the building, the floor sloped until it dropped to meet the river. Beyond the building, pigs snorted and rutted for grubs in the quiet of the morning.
“Builder! Master Builder,” cried out Harricus as he stepped up to the raised floor.
The thick spine and wide ribs of three partially constructed boats rested on cradles. Piled around each frame were wood shavings, and lengths of wood with one end shaped and squared while the other end was still in its rough natural form.
From a quarter of the building blocked off by a goatskin curtain, a large man emerged. He yawned looked around the shop before narrowing his eyes and focusing on the innkeeper.
“Harricus? What in the dēfutūta hades are you doing here?” demanded the boat builder. “You may be out dancing the night away. But, decent working men are trying to get a full night’s sleep.”
“I can’t explain. I don’t have time,” announced Thomasious. “I need to rent your baby. Right now, and I’m paying.”
The builder turned and yelled into the tented section of the shop.
“Get up,” he yelled while pulling back the curtain. “Launch baby and get my darlings fed.”
Five workers tossed back blankets and jumped to their feet. One lit a lantern. He jumped off the far side of the structure and the illumination showed a wall of logs. From behind the logs, pigs began to snort.
“He’ll feed my darlings their morning mush,” explained the builder as he joined the other four workers. “This afternoon, fishermen will bring them fish heads, guts, and tails.”
“I don’t have time to savor the dietary regimen of your pigs,” Harricus reminded him. “I need to be in Ostia. There’s a Qart Hadasht fleet coming and I have to stop them.”
“If you’re not kidding or drunk Thomasious,” the builder stated as he and his workers pulled the cover off a fourth boat. “There’s no charge as long as you bring her back to me undamaged.”
Every craftsman, at least those with true passion and artistic talent, have a personal project. One where their everyday product is taken to an extreme.
Potters, who mass product durable amphorae, have magnificently sculptured vases of exquisite, thin walled clay in the back of their factories; Metal workers, who hammer out hot steel to form deadly gladii by the dozens, have sculptures of steel with the hard metal so curved and flowing as to resemble leaves on a plant tucked away behind the forges; Coopers, who shave geometric edges on slats to make water tight barrels, have oak carvings of figurines with hands so real as to resemble miniature people stored in the corner of their compounds; and boat builders, who shave and fit lengths of wood to construct wide working boats, have narrow swift boats under wraps in the corners of their buildings.
The builder peeled back the cover to reveal his baby. It was long and narrow. Six bronze oarlocks lined with fine leather to protect the oars allowed for six tightly packed oarsmen. Carvings along the rails displayed scenes of Neptune lording over sea creatures. Baby was so different from the average workboat, one could safely call her a work of art.
While the builder and three of his workers rolled baby down the slope to the river’s edge, another worker selected long oars. These weren’t carved. The oars were polished and oiled to protect them from absorbing water.
“You can use two of my workers,” volunteered the builder. “She’ll fit six rowers.”
“We have Legion gear to carry,” Harricus informed the builder. Pointing to Erebus and the three Legionaries, he explained, “These four will do.”
Two workers waded into the water and stabilized the boat. After lifting their gear out of the boxes, the Legionaries began to pile the armor pieces and helmets into the front of the boat.
