Neptune's Fury Read online

  Neptune’s Fury

  Clay Warrior Stories

  Book #10

  J. Clifton Slater

  Neptune’s Fury is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. I am not a historian, although I do extensive research. For those who have studied the classical era and those with exceptional knowledge of the times, I apologize in advance for any errors.

  The large events in this tale are from history but, the dialogue and action sequences are my inventions. Some of the elements in the story are from reverse engineering techniques and procedures. No matter how many sources I consult, history always has holes between events. Hopefully, you’ll see the logic in my methods of filling in the blanks.

  I need to thank Hollis Jones who kept the story on track and grammatically correct with her red pen. Without her, the project would have wandered far from my plan. And gratitude to my hard-core readers who are Legion. I’m not sure if it’s because you are many or, are spiritual descendants from an ancient Roman army. If so, Salute!

  Neptune’s Fury

  Content

  Neptune’s Fury

  Act 1

  Chapter 1 - Been to Volsinii Lately

  Chapter 2 - An Unfortunate Tribunal

  Chapter 3 - You Are Welcome To It

  Chapter 4 - Isn't that great

  Chapter 5 - Fluid’s Flow and Magic

  Act 2

  Chapter 6 - The Road to Amelia

  Chapter 7 - The Umbria Administrator

  Chapter 8 - The Offer and Assumptions

  Chapter 9 - Rock and Limbs

  Chapter 10 - Keel Notches

  Act 3

  Chapter 11 - Sisera Militia

  Chapter 12 - It’s Our Trade, but Still Murder

  Chapter 13 - Progress Reports

  Chapter 14 - Trade Negotiations

  Act 4

  Chapter 15 - Cūlī and Elbows

  Chapter 16 - Fire and Prometheus

  Chapter 17 - Retribution Revisited

  Act 5

  Chapter 18 - Absence of Collateral

  Chapter 19 - There is Nothing in Between

  Chapter 20 - Work Your Plan

  Chapter 21 - Overconfidence for the Loss

  Act 6

  Chapter 22 - Not Paddles

  Chapter 23 - Seventy Miles to Rome

  Chapter 24 - Millstone of Power

  Chapter 25 - Somewhat Involved

  Chapter 26 - Momus, The God of Mockery

  Chapter 27 - The Fatal Half Mile

  Act 7

  Chapter 28 - Praetor’s Authority

  Chapter 29 - The Face of Mad Rage

  Chapter 30 - Winter Vessel

  Chapter 31 - Ship Escorts

  Chapter 32 - A Reminder of Violence

  Act 8

  Chapter 33 - Eyes of the Archer

  Chapter 34 - A Lesson Passed On

  Chapter 35 - False Palisades

  Chapter 36 - A Promise Made

  Chapter 37 - A Man’s Sanctuary

  The End

  A note from J. Clifton Slater

  Books by J. Clifton Slater

  Neptune’s Fury

  Act 1

  The abatement of major hostilities in the Etruscan region to the north allowed the Roman Senate to focus on war with the Qart Hadasht Empire. On land, the Legions had trapped a superior force in Agrigento. Plus, even though outnumbered in some cases, the Legionaries delivered victory in every skirmish and clash with the Empire’s mercenaries. As a result, cities on Sicilia were signing treaties with Rome. While the heavy infantry dominated land warfare, off the coast was a different story.

  The vast Carthaginian Navy ruled the Mediterranean Sea, and the Ionian, Adriatic, and Tyrrhenian Seas that touched the Republic’s shoreline. If sufficiently motivated, the Empire could isolate segments of the peninsula and cut the Roman’s trade by blockading the Republic’s sea lanes.

  Fear of losing the shipping routes that connected regions of the Republic brought heated debates. Isolationist, fiscal conservatives, expansionists, and senators seeking peace or war stood and argued their points. One fact became apparent from the discussions. They needed more warships. While Rome could lease transports from maritime neighbors, persuading another country to charter warships to go against the Carthaginians was another matter.

  ‘Destitutus ventis, remos adhibe’ translates from Latin to ‘If the wind does not serve, take to the oars.’ One interpretation of the saying - if other factors do not support you, count on yourself.

  To counter the threat of the Qart Hadasht Empire, the Roman Republic needed to count on themselves and build a navy. In order to keep Rome’s new warships from being used as an excuse to attack, the senate required a stealth shipyard far from the prying eyes of Empire spies.

  Although the Etruscan region was at a stalemate, the area wasn’t safe from bandits or friendly to Latians. Thus, it was totally unsuitable for secretly building warships. The Umbria mountain people in the adjacent region, however, were capable of supplying the manpower and the raw materials. If they could be convinced to help.

  Welcome to 261 B.C.

  Chapter 1 - Been to Volsinii Lately

  The stream gurgled over pebbles creating a rhythmic sound. Distorting the musical notes, the horse sucked up water and the mule snorted while munching on the tender shoots growing next to the creek. Alerio Sisera stretched and gazed up through the limbs. A few stars and Luna’s glow shone between the high branches. Closing his eyes, he willed his body to relax in hopes of going back to sleep.

  Out of tune with the natural sounds, a stick snapped.

  The Legion officer rolled from under his blanket, leaving it with an undisturbed appearance. Continuing to roll, he moved beyond the circle of firelight and came up on a knee. While his gladii, shield, and matching swords were across the campsite, he wasn’t unarmed. From his lower back, he pulled a dagger and from his hip, a Legion pugio. Both double edged and razor sharp their points already tracking three shapes moving through the moonlit forest.

  Alerio sunk deeper into the shadows. When he was well outside the flickering light he rose and vanished into the dark.

  ***

  In any attack, commitment was proven by forward momentum. By their approach, Alerio could tell the three bodies were committed. They applied solid tactics, as well. Two split wide and the third covered their approach by targeting the lane to his bedroll with a notched arrow. Soft footed and intense, the two barbarians closed in on the blanket.

  Alerio eased forward. Over the archer’s left shoulder, he saw the two, who appeared to be Etruscan tribesmen, stab his blankets. For as long as he’d carried the bedroll, it hadn’t been damaged until this morning. And for what? A few packs, a mount, and a mule. Then he realized the spears weren’t simply damaging his bedroll. They were meant to kill. Flushed with indignity, Alerio stepped forward and cocked his right leg.

  He drove his foot into the side of the bowman’s left knee. The joint snapped and the man collapsed, falling to the side. As he crumpled, Alerio hammered the tribesman’s right ear with the pommel of his Legion pugio. During the action, the bow string snapped and the arrow released.

  Figuring to dispatch one of the two attackers by surprise, he planned to then swing around and take the last one from the side. Alerio hurled the archer and sprinted at the pair of robbers. He was two steps towards the men when he noted the tribesman on the left had folded up around an arrow in his thigh. The barbarian fell.

  His first target out of the fight, Alerio went for the other. He planted his right foot, crossed and stepped out with the left leg to change direction. But his right foot skated on the dried leaves. Legion officer, Alerio Sisera, fell face first onto the ground.

  ***<
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  The narrow head of the tribal spear arched over the tribesman’s shoulder as he twisted his torso around. At the bottom of the rainbow shaped path, the traveler he intended to rob sprawled, waiting to finally die.

  “Vofionus, ancient spear wielder,” prayed the barbarian to his God, driving the tip of the Etruscan spear at the undefended back. “guide my weapon through the Latian’s heart.”

  “Quirinus, God of conflict and the spear,” Alerio prayed to his Latian God. “stay the steel and spare my flesh.”

  He had been taught while growing up, elicit the Gods’ favor but help them help you by moving your lazy cūlus. Before the plea to the Latian deity ended, Alerio rolled and the spearhead sank into the depression left by Alerio’s body. Slamming an arm into the soil, Legion officer Sisera used his forearm to drag his legs under his hips. From the crouch, he sprang at the barbarian.

  One blade swiped left, gouged into the spear as it sank into the wooden shaft. Alerio brought the other knife across and slashed the shoulder muscle of the tribesman. That much damage deadened the arm and forced the left hand to release the spear. Holding it in his right, the barbarian stumbled back while attempting to bring the spear tip to bear on the traveler. But the end of the shaft was under the control of the pugio’s blade.

  “You Etruscans are just as stupid as the last time we fought,” Alerio announced. He stabbed out with the Ally of the Golden Valley dagger.

  The razor-sharp double-edged blade jerked forward and as the tip reached the Etruscan’s neck, Alerio yanked it to the side. A thin line, dripping red, appeared on the man’s throat. Before he could cup the wound with a hand, Alerio called on Apollo.

  “I’m not sure why? I should simply kill him. But give me the strength from your sport, god of boxing.”

  Alerio dropped the Legion knife and delivered a powerful uppercut. It lifted the tribesman off his feet and drove him back. The Etruscan bandit ended up peacefully, almost as if sleeping, on the leaves.

  “Great. You sleep and I’m up,” Alerio complained. After retrieving the pugio, he glanced up and studied the dark sky. Then commented. “Luna has retired and missed my devastating punch.”

  While he tied and gagged the three bandits, Centurion Sisera chastised himself. This situation would be easier if he just ended their miserable lives and sent a squad from the fort at Orte to retrieve the bodies. But they were down and out and, he was mostly finished binding them.

  ***

  The Legion Private blinked, trying to see better in the light of early dawn. On the road coming from the south, three men staggered into view. As they got closer, he could see two leaning on the middle man for support. It seemed as if they would have sat down but for the mule. Connecting the men with the animal was a rope. Behind the mule a mounted man with a switch snapped the branch at the mule whenever it slowed.

  “Sergeant of the Guard,” the Legionary cried out. “Main gate.”

  His call was picked up by the other men on guard duty. Soon, an Optio, Tesserarius, and four armored and shield bearing Legionaries jogged from Fort Orte.

  “Report,” the Sergeant demanded.

  The duty sentry lifted an arm and pointed at the strange caravan.

  “Optio. I bet it’s a good story,” the guard suggested. “but I wouldn’t want to unpack that for our Centurion.”

  The infantrymen peered into the gloom and chuckled.

  “Knock it off,” the Corporal ordered.

  The five Legionaries were silent as the procession worked its way up the road.

  ***

  Under directions from their Sergeant, the infantrymen moved forward and herded the three wounded men off to the side.

  “Centurion Alerio Sisera,” Alerio reported while slipping off his mount.

  “And who are your companions, sir?” the Optio inquired.

  “I have no idea. Except my bedroll has two spear holes. It didn’t have them before I went to sleep last night,” Alerio stated. Then he leaned towards the three men and said. “I’m assuming they are brave, heroic Etruscan tribesmen from Volsinii, out for a moonlit lover’s stroll.”

  The description sent the three captives into a rage. Between their injuries, tied hands, and gags, it wasn’t a very dramatic outburst. Even so, to keep them calm, the Legionaries poked the trio with the butt ends of their javelins.

  “Have you been to Volsinii, Centurion?” the Sergeant inquired.

  “I was with Gurges Legion when the General fell,” Alerio told him.

  “I heard that was rough,” the Optio commented before adding. “The plateau has been deserted since General Flaccus leveled the city and sold the barbarian residents. Lately, the Senate has allowed Etruscan settlers to begin rebuilding. But the name has been changed to Orvieto.”

  “What does that have to do with me, Optio?” questioned Alerio.

  “I assumed you were heading for Orvieto, sir.”

  “No. I have orders to report to Stifone,” Alerio informed the NCO. Then he bent at the waist in the direction of the bandits and asked. “Can you take these worshipers of Mendacius off my hands?”

  Based on their situation, considering the trio of Etruscans as being followers of the God of cunning, deception, and treachery was an obvious jest. All five Legionaries laughed and the Corporal let his infantrymen enjoy the moment.

  Chapter 2 - An Unfortunate Tribunal

  “Centurion Sisera, it would have been easier if you had executed them,” Centurion Baccharis explained. “I could have sent a squad and a wagon to collect the bodies.”

  Alerio sat across the desk from Fort Orte’s Senior Centurion. The unembellished office held few pieces of furniture or decorative objects. Several personal awards, some captured swords, and two symbols identifying the fortification as being part of the Northern Legion completed the décor.

  “I almost did,” Alerio replied. “But they were down and, well, I’ve had problems with missing Princes before. Lacking knowledge about your situation here, I opted for mercy.”

  “I won’t be that generous. The three brigands will enjoy their last sunset mounted on oak,” the senior officer informed Alerio. “Come, we’ll breakfast together and you can tell me about Sicilia.”

  “There’s not much to say about a siege,” Alerio admitted.

  Centurions Baccharis and Sisera stepped out of the office and began strolling while they talked. Ten steps down the colonnade, the duty Optio intercepted them.

  “Sir. The prisoners,” stammered the Sergeant.

  “What about them?” Baccharis urged. “Come on Optio, out with it.”

  “Sir, they aren’t Etruscan,” the NCO informed the officer. “They’re Umbrian.”

  “Oh merda, I am abandoned by Sors,” Baccharis exclaimed. “First, I get posted at the end of the civilized world just as the majority of the fighting ends. Rather than battle, I’m charged with overseeing a road and chasing bandits. Now I have to deal with the Umbria. If it weren’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any of the God’s blessing.”

  “What’s the problem?” Alerio inquired.

  “In the mountains north of Orvieto are hostiles,” Baccharis replied. “Etruscan tribes begging for a visit from my heavy infantry. Helping them join their ancestors is something I’m trained for. But the Umbrians are a favorite of the Senate. That’s not a guess. Just a few weeks ago, a Tribune stopped here on his way to Stifone.”

  Relief flooded Alerio. Having a staff officer in Stifone meant he was joining a garrison. Or, maybe a diplomatic mission based on the Senior Centurion’s observation.

  “Why are the prisoners unlucky for you?” Alerio questioned.

  “Umbria is close to joining with the Republic,” the senior officer answered. “Meaning your attackers are almost citizens. Tribesmen I can crucify. Citizens I can put on trial. But your trio of clowns are somewhere in between. That makes them a diplomatic crisis heading right for my neck. Now, I wish you had killed them.”

  “What are you going to do?”

&nbs
p; “Treat their wounds and give them a military tribunal,” Baccharis described. “If they come from prominent families, I’ll order a few less lashes from the whip. Just enough to scare them, mind you. Afterward, I have no choice but to release the three pieces of cow dung. I’m sorry it’s not justice for you, Centurion Sisera.”

  “I’ve been assaulted and I’ve been hungry,” Alerio observed. “One thing I’ve learned, you can’t eat revenge. You mentioned something about feeding me?”

  “Optio. Take the prisoners to medical and inform the doctor I expect the very best care for them,” Baccharis instructed. Then he turned to Alerio. “A man can work up a powerful thirst dispensing compassion and leniency. Come on, let’s go find vino and food.”

  The two infantry officers continued their stroll down the colonnade. But they didn’t talk. Both were too busy thinking.

  ***

  Senior Centurion Baccharis occupied the head of a long table in the large meeting room. The three Umbrians sat along one side. Behind them three Legionaries rested against the wall holding javelins in one hand and supporting infantry shields with the other.

  “I encourage you to attack me,” the senior officer urged.

  Two of the tribesmen glanced over their shoulders at the armored Legionaries. Indoors, even in a large room, the mass of the shields and armored bodies gave the infantrymen and their war gear a dominating presence. With eyes wide open, the two shifted to face the Legion officer.

  On the opposite side of the table, Alerio understood Baccharis’ desire to kill the three if given provocation. He also acknowledged the wisdom of the three Umbrians for not challenging the Centurion.

  The third hadn’t taken his eyes off of Baccharis.

  “Why are we here?” the Umbrian demanded.

  “Name?” Baccharis asked.

  “I am Federici Rustia, third son of the Rustia family,” he replied. “Member of the Umbria Council where my uncle is chairman. I ask you again, Senior Centurion, why are we here?”

  Baccharis blinked and his hands formed fists. The use of his rank and the defiant attitude put the Legion officer on notice that the Umbrian knew his situation; probably better than the Senior Centurion.