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  Seeing the Captain distracted, Eustorgius reacted. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the hilt, leaned across the tabletop, and slashed at the exposed throat. His arm traveled right to left holding the knife in an underhanded grip. It was quick and the scholar expected to see blood as he flexed his writs and brought the arm holding the blade across his body.

  Alerio’s pivoted to his left to avoid the blade and slammed his right hand on the back of the arm holding the knife. While maintaining contact and control, the Legion weapons instructor stepped around the table and moved behind Eustorgius. With his right hand preventing the jurist from bringing the blade around or over his shoulder, Alerio grabbed a handful of gray hair. As he pulled the man backward, Alerio drove his left knee into the man’s back. Then, the right knee shot forward, and again the left knee as they hammered the undefended spine and ribs.

  Eustorgius dropped to his knees, released the knife, and attempted to fold his body in two against the pain. But he was held upright, his back spasming with his breath coming in short gasps.

  “I once fell off a roof,” Alerio offered. His grip on the man’s hair prevented the scholar from doubling over. “I landed on my back. I couldn’t catch my breath, my insides hurt, and I thought I’d be crippled. But I healed, just as you will.”

  Between painful pants, Eustorgius questioned, “Why?”

  “Because someone warned me against vengeance,” the Legionary admitted. “But he never said anything about defending myself from a knife attack.”

  Alerio pulled the man up by his hair and guided him to the chair. Then, the Legionary poured wine into a mug and pushed it across the table.

  “Take a sip, it’ll sooth your innards.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to jump out of that chair and attack me,” Alerio replied. “Do it, please. Do it until I put you in the chair and you fall off it.”

  “I’m a respected legal scholar and an honest citizen of the Republic,” professed Eustorgius. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because you attacked me.”

  “It was entrapment. You positioned the knife to lure me into attempting an escape.”

  “Is that your legal opinion? I don’t know the law. But I do know when an enemy lays an ambush,” Alerio informed him. “They spring from cover and strike unexpectedly without mercy. How is your back?”

  “I am in pain and in need of a doctor,” Eustorgius said stretching his back first to the left side and then to the right. “Explain why I am being held captive so we can end this charade.”

  “I want the name of Jurist Imprecari’s patron. And the name of yours,” Alerio replied as he reached for the cheese and bread.

  Catching Eustorgius unprepared, Alerio’s hand passed over the food, formed a fist, and continued forward. The punch to the jurist’s chest reactivated the raw nerves of his back as waves from the violent attack traveled along the injured ribs. He collapsed on the tabletop.

  “Whoa. Don’t be so impatient,” exclaimed Alerio as he placed the quill in the legal scholar’s hand. “We have all day and I’ve yet to satisfy my ire. Pace yourself while answering, jurist. I’d like another few rounds.”

  Eustorgius peered up from where his head rested on his folded arms. Then his eyes dropped to the quill.

  “You are engaged in a conflict on a battlefield that you cannot comprehend, Legionary. Against foes so powerful, your military tactics and gladius are useless,” warned Eustorgius having realized earlier he was dealing with a Latian. “Yet the games people of status play are just as deadly to you as barbarian swords.”

  “But jurist, I’m not in front of judges nor am I attending the Senate,” Alerio explained. “And neither are you. In the future, I may be in your combat zone. But today, you’re in mine. Write down the names.”

  Eustorgius pushed up and shivered as a new wave of pain rolled up his back. He dipped the quill in the ink and jotted down two names.

  “Politics are subtle,” he stated while laying down the quill. “This gives you nothing you can use.”

  “Guards!” Alerio called out as he snatched the paper from the table. Then he looked at Eustorgius. “Politics and blades are the same. Both depend on the skills of the man wielding the tool.”

  Alerio marched out as the militiamen paraded back into the warehouse.

  ***

  “Did you get what you need?” inquired the Colonel.

  “Maybe. I need to see what the other one has to offer,” Alerio said as he passed the officer on the way to the second warehouse.

  At the door, he paused and adjusted the mask before stepping over the threshold.

  “Jurist Imprecari. Are you being well treated?”

  The tall scholar with the bushy hair turned his head and tracked the masked man as he strolled across the floor.

  “Guards. Please give us some privacy,” Alerio ordered as he pulled out a chair and sat across from Imprecari. After settling in, he stared at the legal scholar for a moment before saying. “I apologize for the inconvenience and the disruption of your journey. Jurist Eustorgius should already be at the Legion posthouse. I imagine he’s worried about you.”

  “I’m certainly glad this misunderstanding is cleared up,” Imprecari responded assuming his captivity was a mistake. He stood and exclaimed. “I’ll need a driver.”

  Alerio was a little surprised Imprecari didn’t insist he wasn’t traveling with Eustorgius. They probably decided to toss aside the deception when their trap sprung but failed to snare their prey.

  “We’ll have you off to join him shortly,” Alerio assured the legal scholar. “Please sit down. We need to have a conversation.”

  “Usually, when I’m consulted, advocates for my services make an appointment.”

  “I was a little pressed, seeing as you were leaving Brindisi,” Alerio replied. “I have one quick question for you before you leave.”

  “I am, apparently, at your service.”

  “What is the name of Jurist Eustorgius’ patron. And yours?”

  “You realize, you have asked dangerous questions?”

  “So, I’ve heard. Still, I asked them and expect answers,” Alerio replied. He slid a piece of parchment in front of Imprecari and waved the quill in his face. “Write them down.”

  “If you attempt to make these names public and tie them into the plot against Senior Magistrate Peregrinus,” the scholar cautioned as he wrote. “Your world and Armenius Peregrinus’ will be in ruin and your names erased from history.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alerio lied as he took the paper and glanced at the names. Both people listed by the jurists matched.

  Without another word, the Legionary stood and marched through the warehouse. At the exit, he turned to the legal scholar.

  “I wish you a safe journey back to the Capital, Jurist Imprecari,” Alerio offered.

  “Perhaps we will meet again,” Imprecari said with a hint of malice.

  “I don’t think so. As I’ve recently been reminded, we fight on different battlefields,” Alerio responded before ducking out of the door.

  One block away from the warehouse, he joined the militia Colonel.

  “I have what I need, sir. Thank you for the assistance.”

  “Excellent. We will box up the Latians and make the delivery.”

  ***

  Later in the day, as the sun passed its zenith dipping towards the west, a wagon rolled to a stop.

  “Delivery for the post quartermaster,” the Brindisian driver informed the Legion sentry.

  After glancing into the bed of the wagon and seeing two large boxes, the duty Legionary directed the driver, “Drop them around back next to the latrine.”

  The wagon vanished behind the posthouse. When it reappeared, the boxes were gone and the wagon rolled through the gate and back to Brindisi.

  “Optio. There was a delivery for supply,” the sentry informed his Sergeant as the NCO made his rounds. “I had them drop two boxes in t
he back.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” promised the Optio.

  He marched away and turned the corner of the building. Spying the boxes near the latrines, the NCO walked up to them. He wanted a closer look before informing the quartermaster about the delivery.

  The stink let him know he needed to organized a detail to dig new facilities. Then, one of the boxes rocked. Marching to the container, he used his gladius to pry off the top. When it was half loosened, the wood flew away and a naked man stood up.

  “Sergeant. I want to press charges,” he announced.

  “Sir, who are you?”

  “I am Jurist Eustorgius. And I’ve been accosted.”

  Then the second box shook.

  Chapter 18 – Don’t Ask, Just Leave

  “Corporal Sisera. Do you know what these say?” Armenius asked softly.

  He held up the two pieces of parchment with the patrons’ names.

  “No, sir. I didn’t read them,” Alerio assured him. “Anyone privy to that information might have unhealthy knowledge.”

  “Do you have the bodyguard letter?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Give it to me. You signed out the Legion shield and javelins,” Armenius suggested. “Did you sign for anything else?”

  “No, Senior Magistrate. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

  “Master Secretary Zenobios has found a ship’s captain he trusts,” Armenius informed Alerio as he took the letter. “It rows out tomorrow and you will be on it. In the meanwhile, Zenobios is erasing any mention of your visit to Brindisi. There will be no record of you being here. Thus, there will be no way to connect you to anything that happened over the last few days or this afternoon.”

  “What about you, Senior Magistrate?”

  “My family has wealth and political power. Plus, Senator Spurius Maximus is my patron,” explained Armenius. “I can stand against a storm. You, my protector, can’t. I thank you for saving me again but you have a mission to accomplish. And more importantly, you need to leave Brindisi, quietly.”

  ***

  The next morning, a squad of Brindisi militiamen marched to the rear of the Governors Building. Almost immediately, a hooded man balancing bundles joined them and the unit marched off.

  Senior Magistrate Armenius Peregrinus watched from a window until they turned a corner and were lost to sight. Turning, he strode to his desk to compose a letter to Senator Maximus. The two pieces of parchment were on the corner and he glanced at a name listed on both sheets.

  Twenty years ago, Lucius Postumius Megellus, a three-time Consul of the Republic was sent to Taranto as an ambassador. There he was insulted by the Tarentines. Driven out in disgrace, he was urinated on by the warriors as he fled. It ended his political future but that wasn’t the problem with the Megellus family.

  Even before the Taranto incident, he proved unscrupulous. During the Samnite War, Consul/General Megellus diverted an entire Legion. Before marching them to do battle with the enemy, Megellus had the Legionaries clear land originally owned by the Republic. By the end of the war, he claimed the lands and became one of the wealthiest farmers in the Republic. Using the wealth from the stolen land, Lucius Postumius Megellus bought politicians and legal verdicts. The name on the two sheets wasn’t Lucius. It was Satoris Postumius Megellus. The sly campaigner’s son was just as dangerous as his father. And now, he pulled the strings and distributed the coins for favors.

  Armenius put quill to parchment and began writing a report. More than a description of what transpired in Brindisi, the letter would put Senator Maximus on guard and warn him of an internal enemy.

  Act 5

  Chapter 19 – The Ionian Sea

  The trading ship was eighty feet long, twenty feet wide, and her draft unknown. Unknown because the cargo weighed her down and dock workers kept adding to the load. As it stood, the rails rocked four feet above the water and a foot below the dock.

  Alerio strolled down the pier dodging teams of men carrying amphorae of olives, olive oil, and wine. As he approached the transport, he stepped beyond the ramp in order to clear the way for the loaders.

  “Captain Crypto?” he called to the man checking off items as they were carried aboard.

  “Are you Zenobios’ Latian friend?” the man replied between marking off the cargo as it passed him.

  “Yes, sir. I guess you could say that.”

  “I did say it. You are?”

  “Alerio Sisera. Are you Captain Crypto?”

  “Wouldn’t be here sinking someone else’s boat if I didn’t plan on collecting a huge fee,” the man exclaimed. “Speaking of fees, do you have coins for the passage?”

  “I do, Captain Crypto,” Alerio assured him.

  “Unnecessary. Zenobios has already paid a fee. But you’ll work during the voyage,” Crypto informed Alerio. “And call me Peri. I left the Captain title behind when I resigned from the navy of Aegina.”

  Alerio walked onto the ship, went to the raised stern, and dropped his bundle and saddle bags. The heavy fur cloak and extra clothing had been left with the militia.

  “Where do I start?” he inquired.

  Peri held up an open hand as three more amphorae were carried onto the ship.

  “Three and a half, Peri,” a sailor standing on the starboard side shouted.

  “Dockmaster, the Thalássio Klouví is at capacity,” the Captain called to a man supervising the workers. Peri marked the invoice, rolled it up, and tossed it to the dockmaster. “Sisera, help with the deck planks while I go settle the account.”

  Joining three other men, Alerio walked to a side rail where longboards were stacked. Taking one end, he and a sailor, with an old ripped and chewed pileus cap, lifted the first plank. As soon as he picked it up, the Legionary realized he had the end that required walking on the narrow beam running across the centerline of the boat.

  “Wouldn’t want to switch, would you?” he inquired as he placed a foot on the beam.

  “No,” the sailor replied.

  Sidestepping and balancing the board while placing his feet, Alerio made it across the beam to the other side. Bending down, he placed the first plank.

  “Kick it so it’s tight,” one of the other sailors directed.

  Alerio and the sailor in the rat eaten pileus nudged the plank so it seated firmly against the deck.

  “How about we switch now?” Alerio asked while following his partner around to the stack.

  “No.”

  The other sailors chuckled.

  Six boards later, half the planks were in place and the cargo partially covered. They moved to another stack. The sailor in the beat-up cap took the bow end.

  “You don’t like walking over the hold, do you?” Alerio teased as he picked up his end.

  “No.”

  They placed five planks and the other pair had done six. While walking back to retrieve the last board, Alerio noticed a hole had been cut through the center of it.

  “Be careful with that one,” the captain warned as he stomped on the planks checking to be sure they were all seated properly.

  “I haven’t been on many transports,” offered Alerio. “but having a hole in the cargo cover, seems to defeat the purpose of covering the hold.”

  “That, Alerio Sisera, is why the Thalássio Klouví can take on extra cargo and sail with three and a half feet of freeboard,” Captain Crypto informed the Legionary. “Go ahead and set the plank.”

  Below them, a sailor leaned, then braced a large bronze pipe. The end projected above the deck. Seeing why there was a hole, Alerio and the silent sailor centered the board over the pipe and lowered it. Rather than kicking the wood into place, they tamped it down with their feet.

  “What is that?” questioned Alerio.

  “It’s a pump. Or rather the housing for a pump. At the bottom, I have a low area where the water collects,” Peri explained. “If we get heavy rains or sea swells, we can discharge the water immediately, rather than moving cargo aro
und to bail it out.”

  “Ingenious,” commented Alerio. Then, he glanced at the sailor in the scruffy hat and asked. “Pretty smart, isn’t it?”

  “No.”

  The captain chuckled and the other two laughed outright.

  “Zoon isn’t much for conversation,” Peri explained. “Last year he fell overboard. He was down so long, I thought we lost him. But he bobbed to the surface and we fished him out.”

  “I hit his chest to see if he was alive,” a sailor with light brown hair bragged. “He woke coughing up water but, he wasn’t the chatty Zoon who fell in.”

  “That’s Neos,” Captain Crypto said introducing the lean sailor. “When Zoon woke up, Neos asked if he was alive. Zoon said, No.”

  “It’s all he says now. No this, no that,” Neos added.

  “My other crewman is Eidos,” Peri offered, pointing to a tall and blond-haired sailor.

  His features resembled Neos except for the height and paler hair color.

  “Are you two related?” Alerio questioned.

  “We’re cousins,” Eidos replied. “I’m older and smarter.”

  “By a week and, at least two years, dumber,” Neos corrected.

  “That’s not what the tutor said,” Eidos added.

  “He would have said the same about me if my father had bribed him.”

  “Enough, you two. We have to make Otranto before sundown,” Peri said interrupting the cousins. “Throw off the lines and man the oars.”

  Eidos and Neos ran fore and aft as if untying the Thalássio Klouví was a race. Zoon walked to an oar, dipped it into the water, and stood waiting.

  “Take a port side oar, Sisera,” Peri directed as he moved to the rear oar. “If the cousins are on the same side, they’ll try to outdo each other, and they’ll row us in circles.”

  Alerio raised the oar and placed it against the pier. Once Neos joined him on the other and Eidos picked up the one behind Zoon, the four paused.

  “Poseidon, God of the sea. We beseech you for mercy during our travels over your domain,” Crypto prayed. “Keep the seas calm, the monsters in their depths, and the birds flying along our route. For a safe voyage from sheltered harbor to sheltered harbor, we give you thanks.”