Muted Implications (Clay Warrior Stories Book 12) Read online

  “I would like to see the Sacred Flame,” Alerio told her. “If it is allowed?”

  She clasped her hands together as if resisting an urge to reach out and physically touch him. Then flashing a smile, the Virgin with the entangled fingers indicated a direction.

  “Steps circle the building creating an inviting entrance to the temple,” she pointed out as they entered the inner sanctum. “Every citizen is welcome to enter and ensure the eternal flame glows during the day. And thus, know their Capital is safe.”

  The aroma of an old, old building assaulted his nostrils, overpowering the perfume. Not surprising as the temple surrounding the flame was made of interwoven reeds daubed with clay and topped with a thatched reed roof. A wool sheet concealed one wall, but the others were visible. Although resurfaced with new reeds and clay, the walls and roof were over four hundred years old and they smelled.

  “Behind the wool screen,” the Virgin mentioned when she saw Alerio pause on the material, “are sacred items. Only Vestal Virgins are allowed to gaze on the artifacts. However, you have seen the flame and that is the most powerful talisman in the temple.”

  Alerio gazed into the flame burning in a mid-sized brazier. Maybe it was the midday sunlight streaming into the structure, or his elaborate expectation of an eternal flame, but the Sacred Fire seemed small and, for all of its enormous responsibility, a little anemic.

  “No offense, Vestal Virgin,” Alerio offered, “but shouldn’t the flame be larger?”

  “There are six Virgins attending the flame and temple every day,” the priestess told him. “We guard against the fire going out.”

  “But should it get extinguished,” Alerio insisted, “who has the honor of relighting the Sacred Flame?”

  “The flame may not be transferred from another fire,” she explained. “New pure, unpolluted flame is required.”

  “Where do Vestal Virgins get flames as pure as they are?” Alerio asked. He was rewarded by a blush on the face of the Priestess.

  “New Virgin Fire from the sun is required,” she answered. “Polished brass mirrors catch sunbeams and focus them. The kindling thus bursts into flame from a natural source, relighting the Sacred Flame with pure fire.”

  Alerio had heard of the ability to use strong sunlight to start a fire. With a Goddess’ help sure, but for the average citizen or Legionary, there was no way.

  “Thank you, Priestess,” Alerio commented. He held out a silver coin. “Is this allowed?”

  “We have sworn a vow,” she stated while batting her eyelids, “of chastity for thirty years. But not one of poverty.”

  Her hands parted. One shot out and snatched the coin from his hand.

  “Follow me,” the Vestal Virgin instructed. “I will take you to the head of the temple.”

  It was midafternoon when Alerio left the Shrine. Although lighter by a sack full of coins, he carried a voucher, guaranteed by the Goddess Vesta, for every coin he deposited.

  Alerio skipped down the steps, handed the Temple’s animal handler a coin, and mounted Phobos. Together, they edged around the temple grounds and Palatine Hill before heading northeast across the Capital.

  ***

  Phobos pranced off the boulevard and fought the reins when Alerio hauled back to stop the big horse.

  “You keep going,” the Legion officer warned the horse, “and you’ll be eating gate wood.”

  At the sound of Alerio’s voice, Phobos stopped. Accidently, rider and horse were at the villa’s main entrance. The door opened and Spurius Maximus’ Greek secretary stepped out. As soon as he cleared the doorway, two household guards, equipped with steel tipped spears, came through and flanked him.

  “That was a superb demonstration of horsemanship,” Belen complimented. “Good to see you again, Centurion Sisera.”

  Alerio wanted to admit stopping the chestnut stallion on the spot was not horse handling. It was luck.

  “He is new,” Alerio remarked while sliding off the mount. “We are still exploring the boundaries of our relationship.”

  The stable gate opened, and the stableman walked to Phobos. Behind him, two more men-at-arms appeared and took up guard positions.

  “He is crazy, you know,” the handler commented. “It’s in his eyes. He’ll be fine and suddenly, well, he’ll be a different horse.”

  To reinforce his mistrust, the villa’s stableman pulled off his shirt and wrapped it over Phobos’ head.

  “Good wife?” Alerio asked.

  “What?” the stableman replied.

  He walked the stallion through the gate, the house guards followed and, a moment later, the gate closed.

  “Come in,” Belen offered. “The Senator has been looking forward to seeing you.”

  Alerio moved but when he got besides Belen, he took the Greek by an elbow and leaned towards the secretary.

  “How is he?” Alerio whispered.

  “Master Sisera, Spurius Carvilius Maximus is stronger than that horse of yours,” Belen answered. “Politically he is in a fight. But he relishes those. What is eating at him, his enemies are targeting those close to him.”

  “How close?” Alerio asked.

  He and Belen, still linked by a hand on an elbow, strolled to the doorway.

  “Two of the household guards were murdered on the streets,” Belen reported. “And the Senator suffered a mutiny by his supporters in the Senate. Then we discovered why you weren’t receiving his letters.”

  “Nor you, my letters,” Alerio confirmed that he too had written. “Do we know what happened to them?”

  “Not exactly,” Belen responded. He stepped aside and ushered the Legion officer into the house. “Although the Senator suspects a senior staff officer has something to do with the interruption of postal service.”

  Alerio rested a hand on the doorframe and inquired, “Who is it?”

  “I believe the Senior Tribune’s name is Ignazio Rudentis Dispansus,” the secretary answered.

  Alerio’s chest tightened as he recalled the Senior Tribune. Especially notable were the piercing eyes and the scar high on Dispansus’ left cheek.

  ***

  Dinner, that evening, was served in a party room but the guests were not from the rich and powerful class.

  “I had no idea you were in Sicilia,” Spurius Maximus remarked. “After what you did for the fleet at Ostia, I was comfortable asking Consul Duilius to assign you to a post near your family’s farm.”

  “I first received orders to a garrison near Enna,” Alerio informed the Senator. “We were chasing bandits when General Hamilcar took the city. I imagine the Senate will have a report on the action in the next few weeks.”

  “I hate to give credit to the enemy,” Spurius Maximus admitted, “but General Barca Hamilcar is a bold military commander. You know his troops have nicknamed him Elephant’s Trunk.”

  Laughter burst from Isos Monos. Spurius glared down the line of divans at the Greek artist.

  “An elephant’s trunk?” Isos begged while attempting to get his laughter under control. “Is that a reference to a physical feature?”

  While the feasting room could accommodate twenty recliners, only six had been brought in for this meal. Set in a vee formation, the arrangement allowed Senator Maximus to see and converse with each person in attendance.

  On Spurius’ right was his wife, Aquila. She came from the country estate for the social events around the new year. Starting on the Ides of March, the celebrations for Anna Perenna the Goddess of the New Year lasted through the feasts for the newly elected Consuls and for a couple of weeks afterward.

  On the Senator’s left, Belen crouched at the edge of his recliner. The secretary hovered rather than sat while he ate, as if he would be required to dash off at any moment.

  Former Optio Civi Affatus, Isos Monos, and Alerio Sisera filled the other divans.

  On the surface, it was a meal hosted by the Senator. But at its heart and, considering the attendees were close to Spurius Maximus, the gathering was a
council of war.

  “No, Monos. The name Elephant’s Trunk comes from General Hamilcar’s planning of and executing a campaign that efficiently murdered four thousand auxiliary infantrymen,” General Maximus lectured the artist. “Unfortunately, the allies camped away from the Legion and suffered the consequences.”

  “Alerio, you said you were assigned first to the garrison near Enna,” Aquila Carvilius said, obviously seeking to change the subject. “Was there a second posting in Sicilia?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I was tasked as the military adviser to a Tribune,” Alerio replied. “On a mission to Echetla.”

  “That was in the letter the armorer showed me,” Maximus said. “What I don’t understand is why you were even allowed to go to that city?”

  “Why wouldn’t a Legion officer go where the assignment takes him?” Aquila asked. “Spurius, you went where you were ordered when you were a Junior Tribune.”

  “Centurion Sisera orchestrated a daring escape from Echetla,” Maximus informed his wife. “Through the burning of their council building and dispatching a number of their soldiers, Alerio spirited Gaius Claudius and a Junior Tribune from the city.”

  “I am under a death sentence in Echetla,” Alerio told the dinner party. “When someone recognized me, I was thrown into a cell. But Fortūna was watching over me. Rank Leaders I fought with snuck in and freed me. My one regret was not being able to resign my position to Tribune Niveus Trigoni before riding away.”

  “Was Tribune Trigoni aware of your history in Echetla?” Aquila probed.

  “He was given my name as a brutish infantry officer by the Consul’s office,” Alerio explained. “It seemed the Tribune had a full, if erroneous, report on me. But I was working with the soldiers and staying away from Echetla’s commanders and their council. That all transpired before I realized the assignment was not sanctioned by Sicilia command.”

  “Well, Centurion Sisera, you are back in the Capital and safe,” Spurius Maximus declared. “Now let’s strategize on our moves to overcome this insubordination of my colleagues.”

  “I’d like to bring in six more household guards,” Civi Affatus ventured.

  “You have eight sentries now, Optio Affatus,” Spurius reminded the NCO. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “General, for a normal social season eight would be plenty,” Civi responded. “However, sir, there are five more days before the Ides and the New Year galas begin. Not only do I need to protect you, the villa, and Lady Aquila for those days. But for the eight days of the week afterward. Rather than a single bodyguard when Lady Aquila travels around the city, I would feel better if she had three.”

  “That is quite the force for a country girl to drag around,” Aquila remarked. “Surely, one is enough.”

  “Ma’am, two veteran Legionaries were murdered without them drawing their gladii,” Civi answered. “Like them, we wouldn’t know where or when an attack might come, until it does.”

  “In that case,” Aquila responded. “I agree to…”

  A scream crashed through an open window and echoed around the room.

  “One of our sentries,” Civi announced, “from the rear courtyard

  He leaped to his feet followed by Alerio. Both men drew their gladii while running for the backdoor.

  Chapter 18 – Lady of the Villa

  Once they cleared the doorway, Alerio broke left complimenting Civi. Being veteran Legionaries, they knew better than to stack up. Although only two men, they formed a line facing the yard. A moment later, as designed, the line became a focal point for two household guards running from behind outbuildings.

  “An unknown number came over the wall,” one described as he stopped, turned about, and joined the line.

  “They cut down our other man before I could reach him,” a second sentry reported as he ran up. He pivoted and stepped up to the defensive line.

  Two household guards with shields came from the villa. They shoved their way into the center position. From just two men marking a location, the former Legionaries quickly established a defensive line with a reinforced center.

  Just as the line formed, fifteen Etruscan warriors rushed from behind the service buildings.

  “Optio Affatus, we could use more shields,” Alerio called to Civi.

  “I agree, Centurion Sisera,” the NCO replied while nodding his head in the direction of the warriors, “but the barbarians didn’t message ahead to make an appointment.”

  Both men glanced back to judge the distance to the villa. Maybe they could reach the main house before…Their jaws dropped. Aquila Carvilius and Isos Monos were running from the villa carrying infantry shields.

  “Something is wrong,” Civi responded to the sight.

  “You mean the lady of the villa acting as an armorer?” Alerio asked.

  “Yes,” Civi stated. “She should be in the house under guard.”

  “Defend yourself,” Civi bellowed.

  In a rush, the barbarian warriors hit the Legion line. Massed together, they expected to crash through. But Legionaries were trained to hold positions.

  “Close it up,” Alerio shouted while backing out of the line. “Lady Aquila, you are more than I expected.”

  He took a shield from her and spun to face the battle line. Selecting the biggest household guard, Alerio stepped up behind the former Legionary and put his mouth next to the man’s ear.

  “Step back and out,” Alerio instructed.

  Discipline took over despite the fight in front of him and the guard followed the procedure. Ducking, as if avoiding neighboring shields, he backed off the line.

  Alerio turned sideways and filled the gap with half his body. While fending off the Etruscan knives and short swords with his gladius, Alerio used the other hand to pass the shield to the large guard.

  In practiced moves, the former Legionary buckled on the shield and tugged the straps tight.

  “Step back and out, Centurion,” the guard growled. “I’ve got this position.”

  Alerio dropped down and stepped away quickly. It was a good thing he moved fast.

  Immediately a thrust by the guard shot the shield forward. In filling the gap, the shield knocked two warriors to the ground. Stepping up next to the other shield, the big guard sealed the line.

  ***

  “Ma’am, the other shield please,” Alerio requested of Lady Aquila.

  Alerio took the shield and handed it to another household guard.

  Once she handed the shield off and Alerio walked away, the lady of the villa cried out and froze in fright.

  An Etruscan, screaming and slashing with a sword, raced around the end of the Legion formation. In less than a heartbeat, an angry terrifying barbarian filled her vision. Death came for Lady Aquila in a sprint and she prayed to her personal deity.

  “Ceres, Goddess of the fruitful earth and the guardian of underworld portals,” Aquila pleaded. “If I have been a good and productive woman, grant me peace in death.”

  Images of her marriage and her support of a strong man and her two daughters flashed through Aquila Carvilius’ mind. Her one regret was never having produced a son for Spurius.

  Lady Aquila’s beating heart drowned out the noise of battle. Silently, the barbarian loomed over her. And the steel tip of his blade hung above her breast.

  “Not her,” a voice, speaking as if to a longtime friend, announced. “Not today, Nenia.”

  Then the broad back of Centurion Sisera replaced the barbarian. And Lady Aquila stumbled backwards until she felt Isos Monos’ shoulder. In awe, she watched Centurion Sisera.

  Alerio swept the Etruscan’s arm further up and the blade back. In a defensive move the barbarian drove his knee at Alerio’s groin.

  The low attack could have disabled the Centurion. But Alerio swiveled his hips, snaked a leg out, and wrapped it behind the Etruscan’s calf. Then with a pull of his leg and a forearm smash across the barbarian’s chest, Centurion Sisera put the threatening man on the ground. A swipe of the Legion glad
ius ended the barbarian’s life and Aquila Carvilius’ moment of terror.

  She stepped away from the artist’s shoulder, straightened her back, and stood on her own two legs.

  ***

  Alerio unbent and, still holding the bloody gladius, raced to Isos.

  “A shield, if you please, artist,” Alerio requested.

  But Alerio stopped before taking the shield. Twisting his head, the Centurion studied the combat line. Four big infantry shields defended a respectable ten feet. Given the Etruscan’s reluctance to spread out, the fight was centered. But the Legionaries were outnumbered and would eventually be overwhelmed.

  “Why are you and the lady of the villa out here?” Alerio questioned the artist while lifting a shield from Isos’ arms.

  “Five barbarians came from a side door and two of the house guards moved to defend the Senator, Belen, and the staff,” Isos told him. “The lady and I were separated from them.”

  “Then how did you come to have shields?” Alerio asked.

  “Aquila ordered me to grab two shields and this,” the timid artist responded.

  Raising a hand from under the bottom shield, Isos Monos displayed a gladius dangling from his fist.

  “Keep the last shield and protect Lady Aquila,” Alerio instructed.

  Snatching the top shield and the spare gladius, Alerio trotted to Civi on the end of the combat line. The unshielded NCO maintained the end of the formation with fierce slashes. So far, he held back the attackers but, already, he bled from several wounds.

  “Step back and out,” Alerio directed.

  The former Optio dipped and backed up. An Etruscan, waving his arms high to get the attention of his companions, attempted to take advantage and run around the end. Yelling, he came parallel with the Legion line.

  Alerio, while handing the shield to Civi, snapped his leg out to the side. A hobnailed boot caught the Etruscan in the stomach and launched him back to the grass on the barbarian’s side of the battle formations.