Spilled Blood, page 22
part #2 of Clay Warrior Stories Series
As the air streamed by on its way to the fire, the Legionaries marched towards the City Guard stables. To Marshal Kellerian and Lance Corporal Sisera, it felt as if there was a natural wind blowing at their backs.
From horseback, Kellerian and Alerio saw the flames leap and erupt from Fireguard. Overhead, a boiling cloud of smoke spread out as if a thunderstorm were rolling in over the Capital. They could see housemen and slaves on the roofs of villas. Around the people guarding the homes from falling embers, were buckets of water. The Legionaries assumed other people were on the ground in the compounds with more buckets.
As they approached the north gate, one of the four City Guards called out.
“The gate is closed by order of the Senate,” he announced. “None may pass.”
Kellerian walked his horse close to the guardsmen before handing the reins to Alerio. Hopping to the pavers, he strolled the last few paces.
“Who can read?” he demanded while pulling a piece of parchment from a pouch.
He held the parchment out for one of them to take.
“I can, Centurion,” one offered as he reached out.
His reading skills weren’t classically taught. After the man had scanned the parchment three times, Kellerian proposed, “Look for these words. Marshal Kellerian, commander of the City’s defenses. To make it easy for you, I am Marshal Kellerian.”
The man found the words and the meaning finally sank into his brain. He snapped a salute to his chest.
“Orders Marshal?” he asked.
The other three also saluted and Kellerian returned their salutes before continuing.
“Colonel Nigellus is sending three Centuries to defend the city,” explained Kellerian as he took back the parchment. “Open your gates just enough to observe the surrounding fields. If Legionaries arrived, usher them in. If a hoard of barbarians comes calling, slam the gates closed. Then one of you report it to me at the Capital building. Understand?”
“Yes, Marshal, sir,” the four stammered.
Kellerian took the reins and slung himself into the saddle. He and Alerio turned their horses and headed west.
On a normal day, the streets of a city with one hundred thousand residents would be crowded with carts, wagons and people. Today the streets were empty. The Legionaries’ route took them along the edge of Firebreak District. As they rode, Alerio pointed out men and women standing on the wooden roofs with buckets of water.
“If Firebreak Districts catches fire, it’ll be a mess,” suggested Alerio.
“If Firebreak goes up,” replied Kellerian. “Forget about losing the Capital to the Qart Hadasht Empire. We’ll lose it to the flames.”
With that sobering thought, they continued west until Firebreak doglegged to the south. Taking the last paved road before it entered the dirt and gravel of the district, they turned south.
“Two blocks that way is the Cruor syndicate’s counting house,” Alerio offered while indicating a street leading into Firebreak. “I really need to have a talk with those folks.”
“About the seven Republic gold on your head?” asked Kellerian. Then he suggested they had bigger worries, “Forget about it for now. We’ve got to get the city organized.”
“Yes, Marshal,” replied Alerio.
They rode to the west gate and instructed the guardsmen. At the harbor, Kellerian inspected the barricades constructed across the piers and the City Guards and Legionaries manning the obstacles. Once confident the defenders could hold off an initial attack and give reinforcements time to arrive, they rode on to the south gate.
Chapter 75 - News from Ostia
The sun was high in the sky yet only weak light filtered through the smoke. It could have been early morning or late in the evening. Meanwhile, citizens were still streaming into the city through the east gate. Kellerian and Alerio rode single file with Alerio leading and nudging pedestrians out of their way.
“In case someone decides to express an opinion about being shoved aside by a horse, and throws a hand full of merda,” explained Kellerian. “I fancy it hits you, Lance Corporal Sisera, rather than me.”
“Yes, Marshal Kellerian. I am your shield against spears, swords, and merda,” Alerio confirmed before turning back to the front. “Make way for the Marshal. Make way for the Marshal.”
They rode through the gate, circled around to the side of the crowd, and dismounted. Four city guardsmen were leaning beside the open gate.
“Who can read?” Kellerian asked as he approached them. He extended the parchment towards the guardsmen.
“I can, Centurion,” replied a Corporal.
Alerio saw who it was and pulled off his helmet. He was weary to the bone and sick of hiding. Corporal Daedalus recognized him immediately. It must have come as a shock because his hand, although extended for the parchment, failed to grasp it. The warrant identifying Kellerian as Marshal of the City floated to the grass.
“Corporal do you have extraordinary distance vision?” asked Kellerian.
“Excuse me Centurion?” Daedalus asked in confusion. He was still staring at Alerio.
“The parchment Corporal. It’s laying on the ground,” Kellerian stated. “I assume you placed it there so you can read the words from a distance?”
“Parchment? That parchment. No sir, I dropped it by accident,” Daedalus explained as he bent and picked the warrant from the ground.
Daedalus ran his eyes over it quickly, turned to the other three guardsmen, and said, “Attention.”
They saluted when he did. Kellerian returned the salutes. He began explaining about the expected Centuries of Legionaries and securing the gates against barbarians. As he spoke, the sounds of four horses being ridden hard caused everyone to look down the road.
Thomasious Harricus and three cavalrymen pulled their mounts up sharply. The horses skidded to a stop and Harricus climbed stiffly from the saddle.
“Where’s Colonel Nigellus?” he whispered as he limped, bowlegged, towards the Legionaries and guardsmen.
“The Colonel rejoined the General and the Legion,” Kellerian stated. “He left me in charge. I’m temporarily Marshal of the City. So, Tribune Harricus, give me your report.”
“He must have been desperate to leave you in charge,” teased Harricus in a raspy voice. “We turned back the Qart Hadasht fleet at Ostia. There will be no attack on our Capital.”
“Lance Corporal Sisera. Get to the harbor. Have one squad stay to keep an eye on the piers,” ordered Kellerian. “Have the City Guard Centurion release everyone else for bucket brigade duty.”
When Kellerian said Sisera, Corporal Daedalus’ head snapped around. Now he had a name. A vision of him collecting the Cruor bounty danced across his mind.
Alerio noticed the greed in the Corporal’s eyes but ignored it. Instead, he responded to the Marshal’s order, “Yes, Marshal Kellerian. I’m on the way.”
He mounted and began using his horse to create an opening in the crowd. Thankfully, no one threw anything nastier than a verbal curse as he pushed his way back into the city.
Act 9
Chapter 76 - Chronicles Humanum Inn
Alerio woke to hobnailed boots pounding down the hallway outside his room. His door flew open, an armored Legionary stuck his head in, and pulled it out after seeing, what? Alerio climbed out of bed and got dressed. Then he made his way downstairs to find out.
In the great room, Alerio saw Tribune Thomasious Harricus. Except the innkeeper didn’t have the Tribune’s ribbon of rank on his shoulder. He was dressed in his usually tunic and eating ham and sipping from a mug.
A Legionary Sergeant stood by the door looking serious.
“Tribune Harricus. What’s with the Legionary checking my room?” asked Alerio.
“Orders from the Senate. All northern barbarians in the city are being arrested for rebellion,” Harricus explained. “They’re searching the city for any of them hiding out. And I’ve resigned, or rather been informed, I’m no longer a Tribune. I’m back to being a simple scribe and an innkeeper.”
Alerio pulled out a chair, sat down, and whispered across the table, “What about Erebus?”
“As the fates would have it, he was injured at Ostia,” Harricus said. “I’ve sent word to the boat builder to keep him there for a few days. Or at least until the crucifixions are finished.”
“Who’s being crucified?” inquired Alerio.
“All northern barbarians caught or living in the city,” explained Harricus. “Every single one of them will see their last horizon from on high. The Legion is lining the northern road with crosses. I guess as a warning for any passing Insubri war parties. Breakfast?”
Before Alerio could reply, five Legionaries came through the double doors.
“The inn is clear of northern barbarians, Sergeant,” one reported.
“Fine. Let’s check the shops across the street,” the NCO said as he held the door for his half squad.
“Breakfast, yes please,” Alerio said once the front door closed on the half squad.
Ham, bread, olives and a mug of watered wine were placed in front of the young Legionary. He had a slice of ham on the end of his knife, half way to his mouth, when the door reopened.
Tomas Kellerian strolled in and collapsed in a chair. His armor was smeared in greasy ash and bags hung below his eyes. Alerio reached out and slid his mug of wine towards the exhausted man.
“You need this more than I do, Marshal,” Alerio offered. “Is the fire out?”
“Fireguard will burn for another week,” Kellerian responded after taking a deep drink. “But, we have sentries watching for embers throughout the city. Unless it gets windy, the fire is contained. As for the Marshal title? The Senate is voting on a Colonel for the city. So hopefully, by midday, I’ll be back to being retired Centurion Tomas Kellerian, armorer to the gods.”
They talked about the diminishing chance of an Insubri attack on the city and the resources needed to put all the barbarians up on wood. Just as Kellerian seemed to relax, Alerio rose to his feet.
“What’s your rush?” Thomasious Harricus asked.
“I’ve got to have a conversation with the Spilled Blood,” Alerio explained. “The Cruor bounty has to go, one way or another.”
He went upstairs to get his duel rig and armor. When he returned to the great room, Marshal Kellerian was gone.
Chapter 77 - Unfinished Business
On the north-south boulevard, Alerio joined a steady stream of carts, horses and carriages. Unless directly affected by the fire, the citizens of the city were going about their day-to-day business. He marched northward on the shoulder to avoid the traffic.
A few blocks past the fountain, he glanced across the boulevard at the Capitol grounds. All the bodies and wounded had been removed and Corporal Gratian’s squads were replaced by a full Century. As the grounds fell behind him, Alerio examined the front of the Ventus residence.
Four cavalry Officers sat indifferently on their horses watching as house slaves loaded a few belongings in a carriage. Once loaded, the slaves climbed in next to the luggage and sat waiting. Alerio was a block away when Senator Ventus appeared.
As if he were a much older man, the Senator shuffled from the gate and a manservant helped him up the steps and into the compartment. The carriage lurched forward and the cavalry kicked their mounts into motion. The carriage and riders had traveled several blocks up the boulevard before Alerio neared the villa.
Upon reaching the gate, Alerio stopped to look inside the Ventus’ compound. Surprisingly, it was deserted. No cooks or cooking fires; no one on the grounds or stablemen or horses or gardeners or men at arms, it was empty.
Alerio dodged traffic as he crossed the boulevard and took a diagonal route through the city. At Firebreak District, he noted several large burned areas. Each black scar on the rough wood indicated where embers landed and fought to ignite Firebreak. Thankfully, the hotspots were extinguished before the fires could catch.
“Stata Mater, Stata Mater. Stay the flame Stata Mater. And guard us from the fire,” Alerio sang as he walked between the scorched buildings.
Alerio entered the district on a main road. The last time he experienced Firebreak, he was running, bleeding, or hiding. This time, he came armored and carrying three gladii. He marched boldly down the avenue as if inviting trouble. Conversely, the thugs, waiting for easy prey, avoided eye contact with the dangerous looking Legionary.
Although Alerio wasn’t familiar with the lifestyle or the ways and means of career criminals, he couldn’t miss the Cruor syndicate’s counting house. Two bearded, barrel-chested men in poorly maintained shoulder and chest armor stood to either side of a door. When a thin, nervous man approached, the guards made him open his robe. After vetting him for weapons, one prodded the budging pouch at the man’s waist.
“Kanut isn’t here yet,” one of the guards stated. “If you want to wait inside, it’ll cost you two coppers.”
“I can’t be late today. I was late with the collections yesterday,” stammered the man. “Because of the fire and the City Guard closing the gates, you know.”
“Two coppers to wait inside,” the other guard repeated. Then he added with a smirk, “If you want us to listen to tales about your miserable life, it’ll be six coppers.”
Both guards were still laughing when the man dropped coins into one’s palm. Alerio figured it was two coppers, as the man didn’t stay to tell them more about his day. He simply passed over the threshold and disappeared into the shadowy interior of the building.
All this Alerio witnessed as he strolled down the center of the street. He also noticed two more sentries standing directly across the street watching the front of the building. Those two, plus another two on the corners, added up to six guards watching one rickety door on a low rent building in Firebreak.
“There are more guards here than in a Legion garrison,” Alerio thought as he passed the building. “This is definitely the Cruor’s counting house.”
Chapter 78 - Drop In? Introduce Yourself?
Alerio continued down the street searching for a place where he could covertly watch the door. It wouldn’t do any good attacking the building if the Cruor syndicate Lieutenant, Spurius Kanut, wasn’t in residence. Unfortunately, the alleyways in daylight provided no hiding places. Especially for an armored Legionary who was obviously out of place among the poor, downtrodden, and criminal.
A man in a dirty robe, reeking of wine stumbled from around the corner of a building. Rolling from side to side, he bobbled a wineskin and, while attempting to grab the skin, tripped and fell at Alerio’s feet.
“If you kick me Recruit, I’ll beat you like a practice post,” the drunk mumbled as he searched the ground for the wineskin. After many fruitless lunges by the drunk, Alerio bent down and picked up the wineskin and put a hand under the drunk’s arm.
“Here’s your drink,” Alerio said as he reunited, at arm’s length, the smelly drunk and his vino.
“Circle the block to your left. Go into the pottery shop,” Corporal Gratian whispered as he took a drink. Then, in a loud obnoxious voice said, “How about you give me a couple of coins seeing as how you bumped into me?”
“Go about your business,” warned Alerio. “Or next time, I’ll boot you across the street.”
He punctuated the words by shoving the drunk out of his way. From the building entrance behind him, he heard one of the guards laugh.
The pottery shop was on the next street over from the Cruor collection house. Alerio couldn’t figure out how it’s location helped. But, Corporal Gratian had gone through the trouble of play-acting drunk, so Alerio followed directions. He pushed aside the door beads and entered the shop.
A man working a potter’s wheel glanced up briefly but went immediately back to a ball of spinning clay. One hand cupped the outside of the mound while the other clinched in a fist pressed down on the lump. As the fist bore downward, the clay parted and the excess, held in place by the cupped hand, climbed the man’s arm. A vase formed. While the vase was emerging, the potter hooked a thumb under the lip and bent the upper rim outward. He ran his fingers under the newly formed flap of clay and spun the wheel faster and faster.
Then, he pulled both hands back. The potter’s wheel and the vase wobbled from the centrifugal force. When it slowed, the vase at first seemed ruined. Who would want a clay vessel with a misshapen rim? But when it stopped spinning, Alerio could make out the head, body and tail of a dragon. Once trimmed, fired and painted, the mystical design would exceed in value any vase with a perfect lip.
The potter reached out, grabbed a crutch, and placed it under an arm. Next, he stood on his one remaining leg and held out a clay caked hand.
“Senior Sergeant Drumstanus, formerly First Spear of the Central Legion,” the potter stated while gripping wrists with Alerio. “Corporal Gratian said to send you right up.”
Alerio was shocked. A Legion’s First Spear commanded all the enlisted Legionaries in a Legion. To find a former Sergeant of Drumstanus’ status in Fireguard working at a potter’s wheel in a small shop was confusing.
“First Sergeant Drumstanus. Pardon my ignorance but what is a former First Spear doing, well, here?” inquired Alerio. “If I’m not over stepping my place by asking?”
“Lance Corporal Sisera, right? During the war to pacify the eastern tribes, we were humping the mountains east of the city. A spear took my knee and the rot took my leg,” Drumstanus said while raising the stump of his leg as if to confirm the amputation. “After my medical discharge, I took to gambling and hard drinking. Seems, I missed the rush of conflict and battle. With only one leg, I couldn’t exactly go into the arena.”
“So you became a potter in Firebreak?” ventured Alerio. “It’s a strange choice for an artist’s shop.”
“Not if you burned all your friendships, and wasted your savings, and made enemies of half the Capital City,” the former First Spear explained. “There was this snot nosed Private who enjoyed wagering. He found me one night after some people beat me for missing a payment, or two, or three. I can’t remember. So this Private picks me up, rents a room in Firebreak, and sits with me while I dry out.”
