Death Caller (Clay Warrior Stories Book 13) Read online

  “I sent Tribune Sisera, the adopted son of Senator Spurius Maximus, to investigate the theft of Legion equipment at Ostia,” Gaius Claudius informed everyone in the room. “After that build up, Tribune Sisera, don’t disappoint me.”

  Chapter 16 – Race for Results

  “As you said sir, I went to Ostia to investigate the missing gear,” Alerio began.

  “Nonsense Tribune, you did more than investigate,” Claudius beamed. “You went undercover.”

  “Undercover?” Rastellus, the Priest of Jupiter, inquired. “I traveled from the Capital to visit Jupiter’s Temple at Alban Hills. There was an odd donation, and I wanted more details from the priest. When the Colonel asked me to dinner, I almost declined. But now, I am enthralled. Please continue.”

  Alerio guessed a Fetial Priest would not be traveling to smaller temples inquiring about donations. But Cleric Rastellus did represent the main Temple in Rome and that meant he was acquainted with members of the Fetial Sect.

  “I worked my way into the gang of teamsters. When they transported the stolen equipment, I was one of them…,” he described the evolution of events. Then Alerio paused and debated how much to include at the end. Finally, after seeing the Battle Commander give him an out-with-it motion, he said. “We transported the goods to a villa in Malagrotta.”

  Barely visible, the tremor of the priest’s hand revealed Rastellus’ knowledge of who owned the country house. To Alerio, it became a race to see who would be first to arrive at the villa in Malagrotta and at the Legion warehouse in Rome. If Claudius’ Centuries got there fast, they would find the stolen gear, the work benches, and the barrels of repackaged equipment. If the Legionaries were delayed, people from the Temple would remove any sign of the crime.

  “I traced the wagons and the equipment to the Legion distribution center,” Alerio concluded. “After watching them enter the Legion warehouse, I rode here, sir.”

  No one questioned his cleanliness or the clothes he wore. For now, the stop at Villa Maximus would remain undisclosed. Alerio was not sure why, but keeping his adopted mother, Aquila, out of the affair seemed prudent. While Senator Spurius Maximus could decide for himself if he wanted to be involved.

  “What is our next step?” Gaius Claudius asked. He seemed more somber and business like than before.

  While Alerio replied, a young priest answered a hand signal from Rastellus.

  “Colonel. We need two detachments,” Alerio blurted out. “One for the villa and one for the warehouse.”

  Alerio wanted to add a warning about the Fetial Priest Mattia. But a Battle Commander, despite his military expertise, had no business going to war with a Temple. Especially against clerics who commanded the ears of the Senate and carried Jupiter’s thoughts on their lips.

  “I want two Senior Tribunes in charge. Take at least one Junior Tribune with you, and a Century of infantry,” Claudius directed. “Put cavalry out front and move fast. Secure the two locations until I arrive.”

  The young celebrant fast walked to the door. Once out of the main room, he broke into a sprint. Alerio took his departure as an indication that Mattia was as good as warned.

  “Rastellus, please excuse me,” Claudius solicited. “I may be a while, if you care to wait.”

  “No, thank you Colonel. It was a most enjoyable feast,” the priest acknowledged, “but I have business at the Temple.”

  “As you wish,” Claudius responded. “Sisera, walk with me.”

  Alerio followed the Battle Commander out of the main room. Down a hallway, they entered the Colonel’s private quarters.

  ***

  “I am not a garden and I don’t appreciate having merda spread all over me,” Gaius Claudius said while moving to a wardrobe. “Transport and storage of stolen goods is only half the story. You are too smart to have stopped your investigation there.”

  “That is correct, sir. A Tribune named Gutteris in Ostia orchestrates the thefts,” Alerio informed the Colonel. “On the buying and repackaging end is a Fetial Priest.”

  “A Priest of Jupiter?” Claudius stated. He stopped pulling on his Battle Commander’s armor and glanced at the door. As if envisioning his guest in the great room, he observed. “Rastellus is from that Temple.”

  “Yes, sir,” Alerio confirmed.

  “And I told him your parentage,” Claudius admitted. “For that I am sorry.”

  “Colonel, I left word about the Fetial with my adopted father,” Alerio explained. “It’s best to let Senator Maximus decide on how to deal with the priest.”

  Colonel Claudius gnashed his teeth together before allowing a smile to ease his features. Then he buckled on a sword belt and squared his shoulders.

  “We may not be able to challenge him. But the Legion can hurt the thieving holy man,” Claudius offered. He walked towards a stand where his helmet was mounted. “If we get to Malagrotta and find evidence, I’ll personally order the dismantling of the estate. That at least will cost him. Come with me.”

  “Sir, I need to get to Ostia before the news reaches there,” Alerio cautioned.

  “That’s right, the disloyal Tribune,” Claudius expressed his anger by spitting out the words. “Do you need an escort?”

  “No sir,” Alerio replied as they walked out of the private quarters. “Phobos and I will make better time alone.”

  “Get him arrested, trussed up in knots, and sent to me in a slop cart,” the Battle Commander ordered. “Stealing gear leaves the Legions short. Unequipped Legionaries die because of other men’s greed. If I could, I would crucify Gutteris without a trial.”

  “He is a Tribune, sir,” Alerio reminded the aggravated Colonel. “You cannot simply execute a Patrician.”

  “I am glad to see you are starting to sound like a nobleman, Sisera,” Claudius observed. “And less like, what’s that the Legionaries in Sicilia called you? Death Caller.”

  “Yes, sir. But my warning is not as a nobleman,” Alerio corrected. “I am an infantry officer watching out for his Battle Commander.”

  “When you are done, get back here and make a proper report,” Claudius advised. “Until then, take care of things in Ostia.”

  “I intend to, sir,” Alerio promised as they walked out of the front door.

  Colonel Claudius’ staff and a mounted contingent of First Century infantrymen sat waiting for him. Alerio saluted the Battle Commander and ran for the stables.

  ***

  The chestnut horse held his head aloft and walked the rut that ran along the back rail of the corral. It seemed the beast was purposely ignoring his master.

  “Phobos. You can remain here,” Alerio advised the stallion. “For all the good you are doing me, I can ride a pack mule to Ostia.”

  “He is a mean one, sir,” a stockyard man cautioned. “Bites he does, and kicks anyone who get close.”

  “There is a horse from Villa Maximus tied up at the headquarters building,” Alerio instructed. “Be sure it gets back to the Capital.”

  “Want me to fetch you another ride before I go, sir?” the man questioned.

  “No, I’ll be taking this one,” Alerio assured him. Leaping the fence, Alerio walked to the middle of the corral, stopped, and turned his back to the horse. Then he spoke to the night sky, his voice easily reaching the stallion. “Phobos, let’s go. Unless you think I would be better off with a new horsehair blanket, and an icehouse full of horse meat?”

  A nudge in the back shoved Alerio half a step forward. He spun around to face the horse.

  “I lied to the Colonel,” Alerio told Phobos as the man and the horse strolled to the stables. The stallion pushed Alerio with the side of his head as if scolding him. “Well, it was more like a sin of omission. Somehow in my report, I left out Agent Tristis and any mention of my friend Hamus Ivo.”

  Alerio located his saddle and picked it up by one of the two front horns. Then, he tossed it over Phobos’ back and attached the rear strap, the belly tie, and the chest strap.

  “We need to get to
the Legion Fort. But first we have a stop to make,” Alerio informed the horse. He led the animal out of the stable. “The Legion will execute Tristis for his part in the theft, anyway. At least with me, he has a chance.”

  Phobos shook, most likely to settle the saddle and holding straps. But Alerio took it as a question.

  “I know, it’s not much of a chance,” he replied. “But you have to admit, fighting me will be faster than him hanging on the boards, watching his last sunset.”

  Alerio tied Phobos to a post and walked to the entrance of a supply tent.

  “Who is in charge here?” he demanded while throwing aside the flaps of the tent. “I need a few things from my bundle.”

  ***

  Despite the darkness, the big horse cantered effortlessly along the dirt wagon trail. Equipment bags hung from the two rear horns of the saddle. One held a matched set of swords and a dual harness rig. On the other side, the sack contained a change of clothing. Both were for the mission at Tristis’ villa. One for cutting his way in, and the other clean clothing so he was presentable at the Legion Fort when he left the compound.

  “Up ahead, we should intersect the road to Ostia,” Alerio told Phobos. “The going will be easier.”

  The stallion rocked his head back as if to brush aside the offer of a smoother surface. He seemed content to be out of the corral and on the march.

  “Nenia Dea,” Alerio prayed. “Is it right that I plan to deliver Tristis into your arms? If so give me a sign. If he delivers me, I beg you to take me quickly.”

  The moon raced from behind the clouds and dyed the landscape in a silvery sheen. In the moonlight, the turnoff for the paved road to Ostia appeared. As the chestnut stallion left the dirt trail, Phobos increased his pace. Almost as if the horse named after the God of Fear was rushing Alerio to his fate.

  Agent Tristis and his household guards slept. They dreamed unaware that Fear carried Death Caller, bringing revenge for the murder of Hamus Ivo to their villa.

  Chapter 17 – Field Justice

  At the rear of the supply warehouse in the Capital, the Legionaries assigned to the procurement detachment had set up a barracks area. Other than off duty Legionaries, teamsters due to leave early from the Legion distribution center could use a corner of the space. Between the telling of stories and the throwing of dice, the evenings could get rowdy. By late into the night though, the warehouse complex and sleeping areas quieted down. The only sounds were men snoring, the occasional whinny or bray from draft animals, and the clicks of hobnailed boots as sentries patrolled the warehouse.

  A loud pounding overrode the subdued noises. The sentries jogged towards the sound while sleeping men rolled over, trying to ignore the rapping on the main door.

  “Who is it?” a Legionary demanded.

  The two other guards arrived as a voice responded, “Your Optio, you fatuus. Unbar the door.”

  Being call a simpleton did not bother the sentries. They were happy all three were there and not caught napping on duty by their Sergeant. The bar lifted and the doors swung open on the dark plaza of the city and an impatient NCO.

  “What’s up, Optio?” one Legionary inquired.

  “The loads for Ostia,” the NCO replied. He carried a lantern and used the light to identify the three sentries as he entered the warehouse. “We need the wagons loaded and on the way to the shore.”

  “Right now, Sergeant?” another questioned.

  “Have you been touched by Echo?” the Sergeant demanded.

  He held the lantern up as if looking into the Legionary’s ear.

  “No, Optio. I’m from right here in Rome,” the guard protested. “I’ve never seen a mountain nymph.”

  “Well, she seems to have found you and affected your hearing,” the Sergeant uttered. “Yes, now. Get everyone up and load those barrels and crates.”

  From the silence of midnight, the warehouse filled with the grunts of men rolling barrels up ramps. In the wagons, other men spun and positioned the crates and barrels. The teamsters backed pairs of horses into place and strapped on their harnesses. When the three wagons were loaded and the cargo tied down, the teamsters climbed onto their benches, snapped the reigns, and shouted for the animals to step off.

  As the calls for the teams to move reverberated off the roof, Legion cavalrymen raced across the plaza. The horses galloped to the entrance and formed a semicircle.

  “You might as well climb down,” a Centurion of Horse instructed the drivers. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  “By whose orders, sir?” the Optio asked.

  He expected the hold up was a mistake or the mounted combat officer was exceeding his orders.

  “By the authority of Colonel Gaius Claudius, the Battle Commander of the Central Legion,” the cavalry officer replied. “This location is locked down. No one in or out until the Colonel releases you.”

  “And how long will that be, Centurion?” the NCO asked. “We have supplies to deliver.”

  “That, Optio, is not up to me,” the Centurion responded.

  ***

  Being up and awake, the teamsters and the Legionaries not on duty pulled out rations and ate breakfast. The others talked to the mounted Legionaries. It was this festive looking siege Gaius Claudius found when he rode across the plaza.

  “Centurion, report,” he ordered.

  “Sir, these three wagons were about to leave when we arrived,” the mounted officer replied.

  “Get a couple of barrels opened and let’s see what they are carrying,” Gaius instructed.

  Three cavalrymen jumped onto the wagon, untied the load, and rocked one of the barrels to make room to work. In their haste, another barrel rolled to the edge then toppled off the wagon. It crashed to the floor, cracking open.

  Battle Commander Claudius bent over the neck of his horse and stared at the spilled content.

  A layer of armor pieces rested on top of a layer of river stone. Alternating strata of equipment and rock continued to the bottom of the barrel. Without opening the container, the rocks would make the barrel weigh as if it were full of heavy gear.

  “Open every crate on the three wagons,” Claudius ordered. “And arrest everyone in the warehouse.”

  “But sir, we don’t have…” the mounted officer began to say he lacked the manpower to seal every approach to the warehouse. But he stopped.

  The sight and sounds of a Century of heavy infantry jogging across the plaza ended his protest.

  “I want those barrels inventoried and the gear sorted,” Claudius directed. “I’ll question the personnel later. But first, I have a villa to inspect.”

  The Colonel and his entourage spun their horses around. Kneeing the mounts, they galloped across the plaza.

  Secretly, Gaius Claudius let out a long breath. While he trusted Tribune Sisera, a man with the nickname of Death Caller and with so much blood on his hands was suspect. Obviously, the barrels at the warehouse were part of a swindle and that proved part of Alerio’s allegations. Feeling empowered by the evidence, the Battle Commander looked forward to what he would find in Malagrotta.

  ***

  The horse moved faster than was safe in the dark. But the messenger faced punishment or even exile from Jupiter’s Temple if he failed in the mission. With fear for his future driving him, he kicked the mount and charged into the darkness.

  A dip in the road, perhaps from a washout during a rainstorm, or simply a depression caused by traffic would not be difficult to navigate during the day. At night however, the rut caught one leg and the mount fell. The future priest tumbled over the beast’s shoulder and landed on his back. The horse recovered, walked carefully on the leg, and realized it held weight. Before the youth had an opportunity to stand and test his own limbs, the horse walked away and vanished into the night. Horseless, the messenger pushed to his feet and began jogging towards Malagrotta.

  ***

  Without Fetial Priest Mattia in residence, the two guards kept slack routines. Their patrols of the g
rounds shrank to almost nil as they figured one sleeping in the villa prevented burglary and one at the gate covered the road. Satisfied their choices were enough to protect the estate, they both dozed overnight.

  “Attention, villa,” a breathless voice called from a distance.

  “Go away beggar,” the guard on the gate scolded the voice. “Let an honest man get his sleep.”

  Closer now, the voice insisted, “Attention, villa.”

  The guard identified the caller as a young man.

  “Begone, child,” he growled, “or I will thrash you.”

  A sweating youth, dirty from the road, stooped in the lantern light. He inhaled trying to catch his breath. With one arm he waved at the guard and pointed to the villa.

  “I told you to go away,” the gate guard insisted.

  “The villa…the Priest…,” the young man squeaked out.

  “Priest Mattia isn’t here,” the guard told him. “Even if he was, I would not wake him for the likes of you.”

  Straightening, the youth exhaled several times.

  “I am a messenger from the Temple of Jupiter,” he got out before starting to cough.

  “If you are a messenger, where is your horse?” the guard demanded.

  “The beast stumbled and threw me,” the youth responded. “You are directed to remove the Priest’s iron bound chest from the villa and take it to the temple.”

  “Why?” the guard questioned.

  “The Legion is coming here, looking for stolen equipment,” the messenger said. “Also, warn the craftsmen before you leave.”

  Having completed his mission, the youth dropped to the road.

  “Attention at the gate,” the guard yelled.

  Moments later, the second Temple Guard arrived.

  “We are supposed to take the iron bound chest to the temple,” the first reported.

  “Says who?” his partner asked.