Savage Birthright Read online

  Savage Birthright

  Clay Warrior Stories

  Book #18

  J. Clifton Slater

  Savage Birthright is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. I am not an historian although, I do extensive research. This book is set in the time of the levied, seasonal Legion of the mid-Republic and not the fulltime Imperial Legion. There are huge differences.

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

  The manuscript for Savage Birthright has been dissected, beaten, and straightened by the eagle-eyed Hollis Jones. With each correction and red penned note, she has removed extra verbiage and tweaked the story. Her editing notes are the reason the tale makes sense and flows. For her work and guidance, I am grateful.

  If you have comments, please e-mail me.

  E-mail: [email protected]

  To get the latest information about my books, visit my website. There you can sign up for my newsletter and read blogs about ancient history.

  Website: www.JCliftonSlater.com

  Thank you for being a part of Alerio’s stories.

  Euge! Bravo!

  Table of Content

  Savage Birthright

  Table of Content

  Act 1

  Chapter 1 – Raiders in the Fog

  Chapter 2 – The Journey into Illyria

  Chapter 3 - Cleric of the Snake

  Act 2

  Chapter 4 - Queen Jeta’s Brother

  Chapter 5 – Reasons for Arguing

  Chapter 6 – Secrets of Fort Lezhë

  Act 3

  Chapter 7 – Enji Protect Us

  Chapter 8 – Deep Waters of Shkodër

  Chapter 9 – Pre-Gala Planning

  Act 4

  Chapter 10 - Festival Day

  Chapter 11 – Nest of Vipers

  Chapter 11 – Poison Gifts

  Chapter 12 – Stacking Failures

  Act 5

  Chapter 13 – Murder of Opportunity

  Chapter 14 – Camp Ivanaj

  Chapter 15 – Drills and Ducking Duty

  Act 6

  Chapter 16 – A Horror of a Promise

  Chapter 17 – Border at Ducaj

  Chapter 18 – Not a Pretty Knot

  Act 7

  Chapter 19 – Birth of the Shield-Bearers

  Chapter 20 – Audition by Combat

  Chapter 21 - Martial Discord

  Act 8

  Chapter 22 – Transit Messina

  Chapter 23 – Moonlight Over Lipari

  Chapter 24 – Run for Your Life

  Act 9

  Chapter 25 – From the Apex of Victory

  Chapter 26 – Blessing of Nenia Dea

  Chapter 27 – The Circling of Ravens

  Act 10

  Chapter 28 – Old Fears, New Possibilities

  Chapter 29 - Gabriella Carvilius DeMarco Sisera

  The End

  A note from J. Clifton Slater

  Other books by J. Clifton Slater

  Savage Birthright

  Act 1

  Two years earlier, Consuls Scipio and Calatinus rebuilt the Roman fleet, sailed Legions to Sicilia, and captured Palermo. Balancing the win, Qart Hadasht forces captured the fortress and farms of Agrigento on the west coast of Sicilia.

  The next year, the fleet under Consuls Caepio and Blaesus lost one hundred and fifty of their new warships to a storm. Hoping for a different response from the Gods, the first plebeian was elected Pontifex Maximus of Rome. Tiberius Coruncanius, a new man and the first non-noble to hold the position, took office as the Republic’s Chief Priest. From then until part of the following year, the Senate hunkered down to wait for answers to their prayers.

  Taking advantage of Rome’s crippled fleet, raiders preyed on unprotected merchant ships. Tons of merchandise and numbers of transports were captured, their cargo and vessels sold, and the crews condemned to a life of slavery.

  Unlike the Roman and Greek Gods, the deities of the raiders didn’t meddle in human affairs. The Cult of the Serpent left the pirates to their own fate. For the men of the Illyrian Tribes, success and promotion came from an individual’s aggression and ambition, and not from actions of the Gods or birthrights from their fathers.

  Therefore, while the Roman Republic sacrificed and read entrails seeking signs, the Kings on the east coast of the Adriatic Sea prepared their nations for conquests.

  Welcome to 252 B.C.

  Chapter 1 – Raiders in the Fog

  Visibility dropped to nothing when the white mist appeared over the waves. Before Captain Orsini could order a change in course, the transport sailed into the cloud.

  “Cafatia, get on the bow and, for whatever good it’ll do us, keep your eyes open,” Orsini directed his First Mate. Once his second in command was moving to the foredeck, the Captain instructed the other three crewmen. “Roll the sails and man the oars. We need to keep forward momentum and stay off the rocks.”

  “Skipper, I didn’t see any rocks,” a sailor responded as he tied off one side of the midship sail.

  “You can’t see anything in this soup,” another said while tying off the port side. “Let alone rocks along the coats.”

  “When the Goddess Achlys places her hands over your eyes, death can’t be far away,” Orsini warned.

  “Do you think this is her mist-of-death, Captain?” the third sailor inquired.

  “Not if we stay off the rocks,” Orsini answered.

  The oarsmen walked fifty strokes with the oars before the merchantman, Juno’s Grip, rowed out of the fog.

  “Ah, Hades,” Cafatia swore from the foredeck.

  Moments later, Orsini mirrored the sentiment of his First Mate. Their concerns provoked by an approaching ship.

  The liburnian style vessel ripped across the clear water with both levels of oars rising and falling rapidly. In addition to the sixty oarsmen, fifty pirates stood between the rowing stations.

  “Dashed on rocks or dashed by Illyrians,” Orsini complained, “it seems the Goddess was waiting for us in the fog after all.”

  The raider ship lined up with the side of Juno’s Grip. As the bows passed, three pirates jumped from the low-profile ship to the deck of the transport.

  “I’d suggest you stop rowing,” one stated. He glanced from side to side at the men accompanying him and, with a smile, added. “If you make my oarsmen row after you, they’ll demand that I feed your crew to the fish.”

  “Hold water,” Orsini instructed. One of his crewmen reached for a knife. To prevent bloodshed, the Captain added, “and hold your weapons.”

  The sailor’s hand dropped from the hilt and his shoulders drooped. When stopped by Illyrians, the crews of transports and their boats sometimes vanished. And while the vessels would resurface under new ownership, the crews were sold as slaves.

  “Very wise,” the pirate leader exclaimed.

  “You’ve chosen the wrong transport,” Orsini informed the Illyrian. “We’re hauling dirt for ballast to balance the boat. Nothing of value to you.”

  The pirate waved at the deck boards. His two men grabbed an end and lifted a plank. He peered into the cargo hold.

  “Dirt? Not valuable, you say?” the pirate laughed. “Captain, we’ve been watching you since you took on the load of ore at Caorle.”

  Noricum iron ore made excellent steel. However, it wasn’t rare enough to warrant being targeted by Illyrian raiders.


  “It is Noricum,” Orsini admitted, “but it is just iron dirt.”

  “That’s better. Now that we’ve established trust, who owns this transport? And please don’t lie to me.”

  Along with the caution, the pirate rested a hand on his sword. Orsini nodded his understanding.

  “Why do I suspect you already know the answer?” the skipper of Juno’s Grip questioned. The pirate’s face remained impassive, but his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his weapon. Even without the threat, Orsini couldn’t think of a reason to hide it, so he told the Illyrian. “This merchantman is owned by Senator Spurius Maximus. I don’t think you want to steal from one of Rome’s most powerful citizens.”

  “Under other circumstances, I would disagree with you,” the pirate leader remarked. Facing in the direction of his ship, he raised a hand and mimicked a catching motion. In response, a scroll flew from the liburnian. The pirate snatched it out of the air, looked at Orsini, and winked. “But today is your lucky day. I’m on a mission for my King.”

  He handed Orsini the scroll along with instructions.

  “When Juno’s Grip returns to the Adriatic Sea,” the pirate informed Orsini, “you better be hauling an answer.”

  “And if I don’t?” Orsini asked.

  “Then you’ll need a big sack of silver,” the pirate leader replied. “Or I’ll take your cargo, your boat, and your bodies.”

  The three Illyrians jumped down to the deck of the two-banker. Using their oars, the rowers pushed the raider away from the sideboards of the transport and moved off with powerful strokes.

  At eighty feet, the liburnian was longer than Juno’s Grip but not as wide or as deep. Yet, the raider ship with the low profile had enough width to accommodate rowers and fifty warriors. Without a ram, the soldiers provided the ship’s offensive weapons. Its speed and maneuverability came from the sixty rowers. Together, the soldiers and oarsmen made an excellent weapon’s system for overtaking and seizing merchant vessels.

  “I thought we were done for,” Cafatia commented. He walked from the bow to the steering deck on shaky legs. “When we land, I’m making a sacrifice to the Goddess Juno for her protection.”

  “You might want to include prayers to Bia,” Orsini suggested.

  “Why the winged Goddess of Force?” the head rower asked.

  “Because that’s Senator Maximus’ household deity. And Spurius Maximus had as much to do with saving us as the Goddess Juno did,” the Captain proposed. Then, realizing he might have spoken blasphemy, he rushed out. “I’ll be joining you in the sacrifice. We’ll make it a grand one to honor both Bia and Juno, the Goddess of Protection.”

  ***

  Arching through the air, the heavy sword cracked when it impacted the shield. The shock passed through the hardwood, the small amount of padding, and raced up the victim’s arm and shoulder. Most swordfighters would shuffle back seeking recovery time from the mighty blow.

  Alerio Sisera wasn’t most fighters. He dropped as if the strike had driven him to his knees. Immediately, he swung his practice gladius under his shield and that of Merula Mancini. Before the wooden blade impacted with his legs, the household guard hopped back five paces.

  The first four hops were to get out of range from a roll and stab by the villa’s Master. Alerio had done that on more than on occasion. And the final jump took Merula out of the sand pit and clear of the fight.

  “You are about to be attacked, sir,” Merula advised with a smile.

  Still on his knees, Alerio pivoted, shook off the shield, and tossed the wooden gladius aside. A heartbeat after the tools of war were discarded, two small bodies crashed into his chest. Alerio Carvilius Sisera, noted swordsman and Legion officer, was knocked over. Landing on his back, he cried out in mock pain while hugging his children. The sound and gentle squeezes brought laughter from Olivia and Tarquin.

  “They’ve been standing on the patio jumping around and waiting for me to release them,” Gabriella explained while strolling to the sand pit. The gold flecks in her brown eyes danced and a smile graced her face. “It’s almost bath time, so I turned the demons loose.”

  “Your timing was perfect,” Alerio assured her. “I feared that Mancini was about to get the better of me.”

  The household guard picked up Alerio’s shield and creased his forehead before grabbing the practice gladius.

  “It’s not good to lie to children or infantrymen, Battle Commander,” he scolded. “You were in control for the entire session.”

  Alerio stared at the household guard for a beat before instructing, “Put the weapons away. And thank you for the workout.”

  “My pleasure, sir,” Merula Mancini responded. “It helps keep me sharp.”

  He marched to the weapons’ shed and vanished through the doorway.

  “I need to give the babies a bath,” Gabriella said while holding out her arms. Then she sniffed and advised. “And you need one as well.”

  Before Alerio could sit up and hand over the twins, Hektor Nicanor raced from the patio. Halfway across the yard, he stopped.

  “Colonel Sisera. Lady DeMarco. Senator Maximus has come to visit,” the Greek youth announced.

  Gabriella and Alerio peered towards the patio.

  “Where is he?” she questioned. “Usually, he heads right for his grandchildren.”

  “The Senator went directly to Colonel Sisera’s office,” Hektor answered. “I’ve ordered refreshments for him.”

  Alerio stood and held out the little ones. When Gabriella reached for them, Alerio pulled them back, leaned froward, and kissed her. Only then did he hand over Olivia and Tarquin.

  “What was that for?” she challenged.

  “My father wouldn’t snub his grandchildren unless it was urgent,” Alerio told her.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means trouble,” Alerio replied. “Hektor, fetch a clean tunic and bring it to my office.”

  ***

  Unlike the office at Villa Maximus, at Villa Sisera the walls were empty of memorabilia.

  “You should put up trophies,” Spurius Maximus suggested. He indicated the unadorned walls with his glass of vino. Then noticing Alerio dressed only in underwear, he added. “And put on proper clothes. An outfit befitting a member of society, I would think.”

  “Your babbling, General,” Alerio remarked. “That means one of two things. You have a problem with no obvious solution. Or you can’t decide on a course of action for a difficulty.”

  Hektor stepped in and handed Alerio a fresh tunic. After dropping it over his head, Alerio walked behind his desk and sat.

  “But I have a clue,” he continued. “You went straight to my office and ignored your grandchildren. That tells me, there’s a problem.”

  Spurius Maximus had changed since Alerio first met his adopted father. Then, he was a robust man with mass and muscles. Now, the Senator had shrunken until he was thin, and his bones poked at the underside of his flesh.

  “Were I a younger man, I would put together a squadron of warships and a couple of Centuries and fix this,” Spurius Maximus boasted. Then he glanced at the noticeable tendons of his hands, the slight tremor, and deflated. “But at eighty, I’m afraid my days of charging off to war are long past.”

  “Maybe if I knew the situation, I could offer options to war,” Alerio proposed.

  Spurius Maximus reached into a pouch and tugged. Then, he tugged again before managing to extract a scroll. With his arm shaking from the exertion, the old Senator slid it across the desk. Alerio noticed the frailty but refrained from mentioning it.

  “Nice artwork,” Alerio commented. The wooden end caps of the scroll were carved into the likenesses of serpent’s heads. After admiring the engraving, he unknotted a piece of twine and freed a length of animal hide. Where the back remained dark, the underside had been bleached to create a surface for ink. Although the leather wasn’t proper parchment, the lettering was readable. And the message elicited a question from Alerio. “How did they
get my name?”

  ***

  Spurius Carvilius Maximus, Senator of the Republic, slayer of Samnites, and trespasser on our sea.

  The Ardiaein Nation salutes your audacity. However, General Maximus, your free passage has ended. Henceforth, your transports and any merchant vessels carrying cargo for you will be seized. The boats taken, and the crews sold to mining operations where they will certainly perish. I can imagine that it will only take a few instances before captains and sailors curse your name and refuse your commissions.

  To have your economic foundation stripped away and your legacy destroyed will give me immense pleasure. That stated, I have a need and a name. To prevent this just punishment, send me Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera. I have a task he is suited for, and, in return, I will not pursue your merchant vessels or your cargo. If one or two vessels are taken, you can rest assured they were simply business and not targeted assaults.

  I expect the Legionary or your reply on the next voyage of the transport, Juno’s Grip.

  King Pleuratus II, the Constrictor of Ardiaein Kingdom and Servant of the Ardiaean People.

  ***

  “There’re a number of oddities in this message,” Alerio noted. “My rank and the assumption that shipping is the sole source of the family’s fortune.”

  “If a foe only reacts to the obvious, he hasn’t done an investigation,” Maximus lectured. “Apparently the pirate from Ardiaean is acting on superficial knowledge. I’ll, of course, suspend our trading ships until the Republic’s Navy is back to full strength. In the meanwhile, should we need funds, the travertine quarry and farm can produce more.”

  Alerio rolled and unrolled the leather in nervous motions. After a few cycles, he placed it on the center of his desk and admired the snake heads.

  “We can’t allow an impudent ruler of a pirate town to dictate our future,” Alerio exclaimed. “Besides, I’m curious. The last time I had contact with the Illyrians was thirteen years ago at Bovesia on the Kaikinos river.”

  “That explains the rank disparity,” Maximus proposed. “But what skill is he talking about?”