Uncertain Honor Page 11

  “Good morning, sir,” an older man-at-arms greeted him. “How can the House of Lagos be of assistance?”

  “Alerio Carvilius Sisera to see Lady Cassia Tolis,” Alerio responded.

  “Please, step inside,” the household guard invited. He pivoted to clear the doorway for Alerio. “If you will wait here, sir, I’ll get the house manager.”

  Alerio had guessed at using Lady Cassia’s family name rather than Lagos. A husband divorcing a wife wasn’t rare or difficult. If there were no children involved, return the woman to her father, repay the dowery, and the separation was final. In the case of an adulterous wife, he wasn’t sure which name she would use. Based on the man-at-arms’ response, Tolis proved to be the proper choice.

  “Master Sisera?” a pretty woman of about twenty years questioned. She entered the room and extended her hand. Where she had stopped, the pleasant aroma of her perfume continued forward to envelope Alerio.

  “Lady Tolis. I apologize for the early arrival,” Alerio stated while taking her hand. “But the manager at the Golden Valley Trading House said it was an urgent matter.”

  Cassia stumbled back a step and if Alerio’s hand hadn’t provided support, she might have ended up on the floor.

  “So, my husband did it,” she whispered. “When do the assassins come for me?”

  “Ma’am, I don’t know anything about assassins,” Alerio said truthfully. “I’m here to make sure no harm comes to you before your kinsmen arrive.”

  “And how do you do that against the Sweet Fists?” she pleaded.

  “I really don’t know,” Alerio admitted. “Let’s start with how many servants you have in the villa.”

  “My chambermaid, the cook, the household guard, the house manager, my stableman, and the scullery maid,” Cassia told him. “Six in all. I sent the rest of the staff off with Ganis.”

  “Please have them line up in the great room,” Alerio requested.

  Before following the lady of the house, he cast a glance at the door as if the assassins would show up and knock for admittance. He held no such delusion. But he was worried about Hektor.

  ***

  Sanyi, the household guard pumped up his chest and glared at Alerio.

  “Twenty-two years ago, I fought with King Pyrrhus to break the siege and drive the Qart Hadasht mercenaries from the gates of my city,” the household guard boasted. “Lady Tolis is safest with me, a Hoplite of Syracuse.”

  “I know a young man who will be happy to listen to your tales of heroics,” Alerio told the man-at-arms. Seeing as he addressed a fellow veteran, he softened his approach. “Sanyi, I would proudly stand beside you in a phalanx. If this was a fight with battle lines. Unfortunately, it’s not.”

  While the other four servants cringed when Alerio informed them that Lady Tolis had been targeted by a band of kidnappers and thieves, the old infantryman had blustered. Sanyi once may have been a formidable warrior. But age and soft living had robbed him of the muscles and reflexes required to stand against silent killers.

  “As I was saying, Lady Tolis’ father hired me to protect her,” Alerio repeated. He intentionally lied about the band of thieves. To mention the Dulce Pugno by name endangered everyone in the household. It was best they knew nothing about the Sweet Fist. “I will of course depend on Sanyi for the defense of the house. I wanted to see the rest of you so I knew who should be in the villa and who should not.”

  Alerio studied the staff. The man-at-arms was still beefy. The cook as he should, carried rolls of fat. The stablemen had the lean appearance of someone accustomed to dodging hoofs. The house manager had his nose in the air as if judging everyone, and Lady Cassia’s chambermaid appeared ready to curtsy if someone as much as glanced in her direction. They were clean and presentable as Alerio expected to find in a wealthy household.

  “You said six, Lady Cassia,” Alerio questioned. “Who is missing?”

  “Just Narciso, the scullery maid. Because I cut down on staff, she is serving as our keeper of the flames,” Cassia remarked. “I believe she’s off cleaning braziers from last night.”

  “I need to see her,” Alerio instructed the house manager.

  “Right away, Master Sisera,” the servant acknowledged.

  While he glided away, Alerio addressed the remaining staff.

  “Over the next two days, I will close specific rooms,” he detailed. “Once I seal a room, no one is to open the door. And if I say to leave a space, vacate the area rapidly. Are there any questions?”

  None of the staff members spoke up and the assembly stood in an awkward silence before the house manager returned. Partially hidden behind his robe, a vision of dark walked behind him.

  “Is this Narciso?” Alerio asked.

  He studied the small round face of a young girl. Streaks of ash showed where she had touched her face while cleaning braziers. And wisps of black silky hair flowed from under a dirty cap. Besides her face, her long-sleeved woolen jacket was covered in soot and ash.

  “I am, sir,” she mumbled, barely moving her lips as if afraid to offend by speaking louder.

  “I will be closing off rooms,” Alerio said again. He used the soothing voice usually reserved for wounded Legionaries or to calm horses or pack animals. “You’re not to go into a closed room. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Master,” she stammered. Despite Alerio’s attempt at gentleness, she was obviously upset at being singled out.

  “That’s all for now,” Alerio announced. “Lady Tolis, forgive the intrusion, but I need to see your quarters.”

  “I’ll escort you,” the house manager volunteered.

  The meeting broke up and as Alerio would expect, the small mousy girl scampered from the room first. He chuckled at the timid creature while following the manager down a hallway to a flight of stairs.

  ***

  Across the street from the sign with the hanging octopus, Hektor Nicanor leaned against a structure. A few men and women came out of the apartment building as he waited. None matched the description of Ganis Lagos. Bored, Hektor’s mind wandered to a second breakfast at the tavern and to the serving girl. The pattern completed the thought rotation typical of most teen boys.

  Two men came out of the front door and the youth focused. At the wall, a big man held the gate while a slovenly dressed and obese man waddled through the portal. Even from across the street, the unshaven and overweight man looked as if he smelled.

  Hektor lifted the strap from the wineskin over his head, held the container out, and strolled to the other side of the street.

  “Great Zeus, oh my,” Hektor cried as he approached the two men. “Aren’t you Ganis Lagos, the Hare?”

  Ganis’ bloodshot eyes popped wide open, and a smile creased his lips.

  “I am the Hare, winner of the Olympics in the ‘One Stade’ event. Six hundred feet in three breaths. Although Heracles did it on one breath, but he was a demi-god,” Ganis declared. Then to the big man, he boasted. “See, people do remember me.”

  “Absolutely, Master Lagos, whatever you say,” the bodyguard granted. “You did ask to be kept on schedule this morning.”

  “Sir, I just bought this wineskin for my Master,” Hektor explained while shoving it at Ganis. “It would be an honor if you drank a toast from it.”

  “Who am I to deny a young fan?” the Hare stated. He took the skin and poured a stream into his mouth. “That is excellent red. What say I drink a salute to your master?”

  “He will be excited when I tell him about meeting the Hare,” Hektor swore.

  Ganis ‘the Hare’ Lagos stood in the morning light slurping and guzzling stream after stream. When the wineskin was empty and only trickled a few drops, he handed it back to Hektor.

  “Always nice to meet and converse with a…” the Hare leaned over, and the bodyguard caught him, preventing a fall.

  “It was a pleasure, sir,” Hektor acknowledged while sliding the strap over his head.

  A half a block away, Hektor glanced back. Sup
ported by the big man, Ganis eased down onto a short pillar. He would rest there until his head cleared.

  “And you do smell,” Hektor whispered before breaking into a run.

  ***

  Hektor jogged up and down streets until he located the house with the stone rabbit facade. Finding the house proved easier than getting by the man-at-arms who answered the door. As soon as the door moved, Hektor found himself looking down the shaft of a spear. The iron tip, although old and pitted, had been honed to a fine point.

  “Go away,” the household guard ordered.

  “I would gladly give ground,” Hektor assured the guard, “except my duty requires me to attend Senior Tribune Sisera.”

  “Hektor is that you,” Alerio called from deeper inside the villa.

  “Sir, it is.”

  “Get in here boy, and report.”

  Hektor shrugged, used two fingers to move the iron spearhead aside, and slipped by the man-at-arms. Down the hallway, he located Alerio.

  “Hektor, this is the Lady Tolis,” Alerio introduced him. “How did the interception go?”

  “The wineskin is empty, is how it went, Senior Tribune,” Hektor answered. “But I’ve seen old infantrymen who drink all the time. A bout with a skin will put them down for only a short while. Not long after, they’re up and looking for more wine.”

  “I didn’t think we’d stop him with vino,” Alerio admitted. “But you slowed Master Lagos down. Plus, we controlled when he’ll pay the contract off.”

  “What good does that do us?” Cassia Tolis demanded.

  “I’ve got time to close off a few more rooms,” Alerio replied. “Every dead end will slow the assassins and make them backtrack. When they finally located a direct route to you, I’ll see them coming.”

  “And you can stop them, Senior Tribune?” Cassia inquired.

  The sounds of logs and sticks bumping together came from the hallway. Shortly after, Narciso lugged a carrier with firewood into the room. Her light frame was bent under the load. Seeing the weight and the small girl, Hektor responded by rushing to her aide.

  “Here, let me help you,” the youth offered.

  “No, no. I have it,” the scullery maid protested.

  But Hektor reached for the handle and Narciso extended an arm to fend off his hand. As she did, the long sleeve pulled up exposing her forearm.

  Alerio shouted a warning, drew a gladius, and charged across the room. Narciso stuck her other hand between the pile of logs and came up with a Golden Valley dagger. Razor sharp and long, the blade reflected the light streaming in the window. In a flash, it sliced across Hektor’s shoulder.

  Training will do a lot to equalize opponents. But the young Sweet Fist was slight and the Senior Tribune a full-grown man with almost twice her weight in muscle. Plus, he had training as well. Even so, he knew to avoid a duel with an assassin if possible.

  Narciso dodged right and extended the knife as if to engage. Alerio closed in a half step but didn’t commit to the direction. She shifted left and attempted to circle around Alerio. In five steps, the assassin would deliver a killing strike to Lady Tolis and probably escape.

  Her moves were quick and agile, the result of years of training. But Alerio Sisera’s feet were quicker. He hopped on one leg, pivoted, extended the other leg, and dropped the heel of his hobnailed boot. From a lynx in full stride, the assassin found herself slammed to the floor tiles and pinned like a turtle.

  “Your death is not a conversation I want to have with Milon,” Alerio warned as he eased a gladius blade down on either side of her neck. “Shove the knife away, Narciso. And relax. Or don’t, it really doesn’t matter to me. But know this, I can remove your head before you can reach the blades hidden in your sleeves.”

  “Alerio Sisera,” Narciso hissed. “I watched your demonstration at the Golden Valley. Your one weakness is you’re softhearted.”

  The assassin reached, twisting her wrist. Her fingers vanished into the sleeves of her jacket.

  “You’re right,” Hektor said. “The Senior Tribune has a big heart and a forgiving nature. But I don’t.”

  One of the logs from the lumber carrier dropped from over Alerio’s shoulder and smacked into Narciso’s head. The little assassin went limp.

  “You just saved her life,” Alerio offered.

  “No, Senior Tribune,” Hektor replied. “I’ve seen you kill scores of men in battle and walk away proud. But I’ve never witnessed you execute someone in cold blood. What I saved was you from the nightmare of butchering a young girl.”

  Hektor’ eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he dropped to the floor. Blood flowing from his shoulder wound ran across the tiles and soaked the side of Narciso’s jacket.

  ***

  Deep in the night, Alerio sat in a chair facing an open window, snoring lightly. With the door barred, the window provided the only way into Cassia’s bedroom. Behind the Senior Tribune, Lady Tolis slept under three blankets. Her restlessness revealed by soft moaning and frequent squirming as if she couldn’t get comfortable. The nocturnal movements aided in spreading the aroma of her perfume throughout the room.

  Off to the side of Alerio’s chair, a skirted table held a single candle. The light spilled over the edge of the top but ended far from the bed. It did illuminate half the chair and the sleeping form of the Senior Tribune. The final things in the candlelight were three items placed on the tabletop.

  On the roof above the window, a Dulce Pugno squatted. Balanced on the edge of the tiles, she listened to the night. Per her training, the killer began identifying and eliminating sounds. First the pawing and munching from the stables got ignored. In turn, a conversation from a neighboring home faded away. One by one, she narrowed her hearing until the soft breathing and light snoring from the room below filled her ears.

  She leaped, gripped the upper frame of the window, and kicked with her legs. In two heartbeats, the assassin landed on the floor of the bedroom. As she had predicted, the contract slept in her bed while a familiar figure dozed in a chair.

  A quick kill and a silent escape would add to her reputation in the Golden Valley. And to her delight, her actions would diminish the fame of the over praised Alerio Sisera.

  The assassin took a silent step and stopped. In the candlelight, the killer spotted the candle and the table. Displayed like a prize was a tiny jacket. Almost childlike in size, the material had dried blood on its side. Next to the cloth, a lock of silky black hair had been carelessly spilled across the tabletop. And there was a note on a big piece of parchment written in blood.

  A quick kill and a silent escape would have added to her status in the Golden Valley. But Narciso, who had such promise, was dear to the assassin. To see the girl’s possessions mounted like trophies after a hunt, crushed the killer’s soul.

  Before she cut Alerio Sisera into tiny pieces, she wanted to know what he wrote. Again, using sliding steps that produced no sound, she approached the table. When close enough, the assassin bent to read the words.

  Sanyi’s big arms stretched out from under the tablecloth. In his embrace, two of the legs on the table snapped and the killer’s legs became trapped. As the old Hoplite closed his arms, Alerio came out of the chair.

  One of his blades rested on the killer’s shoulder and she flinched ready to flee. Before she could react, the other blade dropped onto the top of her head. The assassin fell to the tiles and Sanyi released her legs.

  He pushed to his feet and jerked the scarf from his face.

  “A man can’t breathe with cloth over his nose,” the household guard complained.

  “She’s trained to listen for breathing,” Alerio told him. “And you, big man, sound like a bull when you exhale.”

  “Ah, but your plan worked,” Sanyi admitted. He pointed at the bed and asked. “What about Hektor?”

  “Let him sleep. We need to get this one boxed up with the other.”

  “You were right,” the man-at-arms stated while uncoiling a length of rope.
<
br />   “How’s that?” Alerio asked. He began searching and unstrapping blades from the lady assassin.

  “This wasn’t a proper shield wall fight,” Sanyi admitted. “Without you, I would have lost the fight, and Lady Tolis would have died.”

  ***

  Two days later, Milon threw open the gates to the trading house. It would be another day of selling but he would do it with a heavy heart. Two of his apprentices were missing and he could only assume the worst.

  Out of character, his youngest trainee rolled back the leaves and rags he used for cover and ran from the gutter. The tiny figure raced through the gate.

  “Little one, that is as far from covert as one can get,” he scolded the child.

  “That man, Alerio Sisera, is coming, Master,” the boy reported.

  “And we must treat him with the respect he is due,” Milon instructed.

  The little boy’s shoulders drooped, and he scowled. The absent assassins were his friends. And although he looked up to both, he missed Narciso the most.

  A cart with Alerio guiding a team of mules came to the gate. Beside him, a pale, sickly looking youth slouched on the driver’s bench.

  “I have a delivery for the Golden Valley Trading House,” Alerio called as he wheeled the mules and cart around.

  When the tailgate faced the manager, his heart broke. Two coffins filled the bed of the cart.

  “I appreciate you bringing them home,” Milon uttered.

  Jumping down, Alerio tossed a leather wrapped bundle at Milon’s feet.

  “Ah, the Nocte Apibus, I presume,” Milon said guessing the Night Bees of the assassins were in the leather.

  “No, that’s their other hardware,” Alerio corrected.

  Before Milon could move to help, Alerio pulled both coffins from the cart. They bounced hard on the courtyard pavers.

  “You put me in a bad predicament,” Alerio sneered. “For that, I am taking a liberty. You can explain this to the Dulce Pugno in the Golden Valley.”