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Chapter 7 - The Umbria Administrator

  The God Erebus waved his hand and his shadows vanished. From the cool shade beside the wall, Alerio found himself in the warmth of the overhead sun.

  “Good food and excellent vino,” he exclaimed while standing. “Sergeant. We have a diplomatic mission.”

  Adamo Florian and Tite Roscini were oblivious to the strong midday sun. They were deep in conversation as they had been for the entire meal.

  “Gear up, Optio,” Alerio instructed.

  “Here’s an opportunity for you, farm boy. You can see how the armor fits,” Florian advised. “You aren’t a citizen so you can’t be a Legionary. But the equipment is available for an irregular to buy.”

  The Sergeant pulled on his chainmail shirt, a chest piece, shoulder rig, and belted on an armored skirt. After the armor, he settled a helmet on his head and unpacked a javelin. After considering the weapon, he put the javelin back. Finally, he peeled a cover from his infantry shield.

  “All that looks heavy, Optio,” Tite declared at the sight of the Sergeant in his war gear.

  “A Legionary can hike twenty miles and march into battle without rest while wearing this equipment. Plus, of course, his rations,” Florian bragged. “It’s only heavy for a little while.”

  “Then it feels lighter?” Tite asked hopefully.

  “No. Of course not,” Florian replied while shifting his shoulders to settle the armor. “You just get accustomed to carrying it.”

  “If you two have finished your love fest, we have a mission,” Alerio stated while snugging the Centurion helmet down on his head.

  Rather than a pair of weary travelers tugging on willful mules, the two men who left the farm were armed and armored Legionaries of the Roman Republic.

  ***

  From the gentling rolling farmland, the grade on the road became a steady climb. At each level of elevation, the number and size of the structures grew and the building materials changed. At first, the fences were stone and the tradesmen’s compounds were wood. When they topped the final rise, the fences were logs and the villas were stone.

  As the construction changed, so did the types of people living on the levels. From farmers, to craftsmen and apprentices, the residents of Amelia seemed to evolve. At the highest level, the streets were occupied by businessmen rushing around and young men idling in groups around benches.

  “If this was a Legion camp, I’d find work for those slackers,” Florian stated.

  “What’s the matter Sergeant, can’t stand to see men relaxing?” Alerio teased.

  “Centurion, aimless men do disruptive things to break the boredom,” the Optio ventured. “Youthful muscle will flex. Either for good, or for evil without direction.”

  “They aren’t our problem,” Alerio asserted. “Where do we find the administrator?”

  “The big structure on the hill. That’s the government building,” Florian offered. “When Humi and I accompanied Tribune Subausterus here, he had us wait. There’s a café on the next street over, I’ll be there when you’re done.”

  “I didn’t bring you along to decorate a seat. Or to supply a novelty item to break the monotony of bored Umbria tribesmen,” Alerio exclaimed. “If I’m going to die on a cold stone floor because of bad diplomacy, then you’re going down with me.”

  Sergeant Adamo Florian stopped in the middle of the road. His eyes searched the infantry officer’s face, trying to detect if he was serious or jesting. No humor or flexibility was reflected in the young officer’s features.

  “You’re willing to die for this mission, sir?” he questioned.

  “Earlier this year, I was in Sicilia at Agrigento,” Alerio informed the NCO. “The Empire controls the waterways. Because of their navy, getting the Legions across the Messina Strait was a challenge. Keeping them supplied is just as taxing. Until our Republic gets warships, we are at the mercy of the Qart Hadasht Empire. Thus, yes, I am willing to die for this mission. Now get that shield off your back, stiffen your posture, and follow me.”

  Alerio waited for the Optio to strap the infantry shield to his arm. Then they marched to the government building, up the steps, and through a pair of decorative front doors.

  Inside, they crossed the stone floor and approached a pair of scribes.

  “Who is in charge of Stifone?” demanded Alerio.

  The question puzzled Sergeant Florian and he started to remind the officer that Nardi Cocceia was the administrator for Amelia and Stifone. Before he could intercede, the tone from one of the scribes stiffened his back.

  “The administrator does not see anyone without an appointment,” one of the clerks sneered. He snapped his wrist and indicated a spot on a corner of his desk. “Leave your gift. I’ll check to see if he can fit you in.”

  Legion Optios were the keepers of discipline in the Centuries. Although he hadn’t known Sisera long, Florian felt obliged to remind the scribe that he addressed a Legion officer. Before he could respond…

  Alerio swung his arm from behind his leg and slammed his palm into the bottom of the desk. The piece of furniture lifted before crashing back to the floor. It sounded as if four spear butts had been hammered into the stone. In response to the violence visited on his desk, the clerk jumped up and stumbled backward.

  “You may not realize it,” Alerio said in a calm and even tone. “But I just saved you a lot of pain. You see, my Sergeant is a stickler for regulations. Now, before he comes to my rescue, answer me.”

  After delivering the assertion, the Legion officer stood staring at the scribe with no expression on his face. Between the assault on his desk, the blank expression, and the piercing eyes, the clerk couldn’t remember the question. While that scribe wilted under the gaze of a Legion officer, the other one ran for the doorway.

  “Centurion Sisera asked who is in charge of Stifone,” Florian reminded the clerk. “Do not keep him waiting.”

  Ten young men pounded over the threshold and stopped halfway across the floor. They fanned out and leveled their spears at the Legionaries. Behind the robed Umbria warriors, the second scribe poked his head around the doorframe.

  “Sergeant Florian, hand me your gladius,” Alerio ordered.

  Reluctantly, the Optio drew his Legion sword and offered the hilt to the officer.

  “If I knew you would unarm me, sir, I’d have brought my javelin,” Florian complained.

  “But then you would have started killing Umbrians,” Alerio remarked. He took the offered gladius with his left hand and pulled his own blade with the right hand.

  Optio Adamo Florian wasn’t sure what Sisera meant earlier when he talked about dying to complete the mission. Even when the Centurion slapped the clerk’s desk, the NCO didn’t foresee a duel to the death. And certainty, he didn’t anticipate being unarmed in a battle against ten Umbria spearmen. This seemed an odd choice for opening a negotiation. But it did provide proof that the God Furor had touched the young officer, for Centurion Sisera was surely as mad as a rabid dog.

  While the Sergeant attempted to sort out his thoughts in order to grasp the situation, the Centurion leaned in his direction and confirmed the mad rage.

  “I’ll be starting on the left side. Keep the others off of me,” the infantry officer whispered before charging at the tip of a spear.

  ***

  It took half a heartbeat before the words and actions registered in Sergeant Florian’ mind.

  Blessing of Fortūna brought luck for Alerio. The Umbria warriors were young and brash but leaderless and undisciplined. They froze for three heartbeats.

  Held loosely in the hands of the Umbrian on the end, the shaft jerked to the side from the impact by Alerio’s right blade. The warrior concentrated on trying to bring the tip back to the front. It didn’t occur to him that a single man might attack a line of spearmen. He caught a fist and hilt in the face for his mistake and dropped. His spear bounced on the stone floor and rolled away.

  The next two spearmen spun while tracking the man with the horse
hair comb on his helmet. To them, he was trying to escape and, as if a rabbit triggering the chase instincts in a pair of dogs, they took a step in his direction.

  Optio Florian was three paces behind the Centurion. When the first Umbrian dropped, the two beside him twisted away. The Legion NCO bent his knees to lower his center of gravity and angled his shield. Coming up, he plowed the first spearman into the second and powered both of them into the third warrior. The three toppled in a line as if columns shoved off a temple’s porch. The Sergeant kicked and stomped the three before racing to where his officer waited by the front door. While running, he decided the Centurion was not right in the mind. Who came to a government building, started a fight, then ran without even attempting to speak with the administrator?

  Alerio reached the doorway, skidded to a stop, and grabbed the slow scribe. After pulling the man inside, Alerio kicked the decorative doors closed. By the fourth heartbeat, the six remaining Umbrians realized the Legionaries were at the door and attempting to escape. The fastest man moved ahead of the pack. He was the first to be beat to the floor by the heavy infantry shield.

  “Aren’t we leaving, sir?” the Sergeant asked. He peered over his shoulder to see Alerio drop the locking beam into the brackets.

  “Why, Optio Florian? We just got here,” Alerio replied. Propelled by flicks of his wrists, he spun both blades in circles at his sides. “And really, there are only five left.”

  The Legion officer scurried to the NCO’s right. Coming from around the shield, Alerio parried two spears while the Sergeant slammed into two other warriors.

  The fifth, an Umbria soldier named Pannacci, hopped back and forth behind the engaged pairs. He couldn’t decide which was the safest place to lend his support.

  Alerio shoved one spear shaft high with his left gladius, dipped his knees, and slapped the other spearman’s ankle with his right blade. The injured man dropped his shaft, grabbed his ankle and crumpled to the stone floor. Batting the shaft of the second man from side to side between his blades while dodging the spear’s tip, Alerio glanced over to see how the Legion NCO was coping.

  Sergeant Florian bashed both spears and spearmen aside. Stepping into the gap, he pounded one with the shield and kicked back at the other. In the pause while one regained his balance and the other limped back on a badly bruised thigh, the Legion NCO spun and attacked. The bruising showed marks from the tread of a Legion boot and the weak shuffle demonstrated the efficiency of the kick. With a hop and a step, Florian droved the warrior to the floor. Intending to hunt the last of the pair, Florian turned.

  There was no target behind him. Centurion Sisera had beat the other spearmen to the ground. Together, the Legionaries pivoted to face the last two Umbrian warriors.

  “Stop this,” a voice cried from an interior doorway.

  Only a single pair of warriors were on their feet. The other eight crawled away or sat nursing bruises or headaches.

  “Sergeant, stand down,” Alerio ordered. Looking at the man in the richly appointed robe, he inquired. “And who are you?”

  Pannacci raced to the inside doorway and away from the Legionaries. Once there, he held his spear as if defending the older Umbrian.

  “I am Nardi Cocceia,” the man announced as if Alerio should be impressed.

  “Good for you,” the Legion officer acknowledged before turning to Sergeant Florian. “Round them up. We’ll crucify all ten at sundown. If any give you a hard time, kill them.”

  Florian’ mouth fell open but, he wasn’t the only one surprised by the orders. Nardi, from the doorway, began breathing rapidly and stammering.

  “You. You can’t execute Umbria warriors,” he finally got out.

  “I’m not,” Alerio replied.

  “That’s better, now what…”

  But he never finished his sentence.

  “They aren’t warriors. These are listless youths looking for a brawl,” Alerio described. “Not being citizens of the Republic, I can murder them where they lay. Isn’t that right, Optio?”

  “Sir, a Centurion has the power to forgive,” Florian stated. “Or the right to punish, up to and including the crucifixion of noncitizens.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Nardi Cocceia proclaimed. “You are in Umbria territory. You have no authority here.”

  Alerio glanced around the room, paused in his inspection to stare at the barred doorway, then shifted his eyes to the two scribes huddling in a corner.

  “I believe my authority has been established,” he insisted by lifting both gladii. “But I do have an issue that needs resolving.”

  The Administrator swept the room, took in the damaged warriors, and decided diplomacy was preferable to fighting. At least for now.

  “We can talk in my office,” Nardi offered.

  “I accept,” Alerio responded. Putting away one of the gladii, he said to the NCO while handing over the other. “Come along Sergeant. We have an audience.”

  Optio Florian placed the tip of his blade at the mouth of the sheath and missed the opening. The Centurion had taken them to Amelia, started a brawl in the government building, somehow avoided seriously injuring ten spearmen, and then was rewarded by an invitation from Administrator Cocceia. When the steel finally lined up with the sheath, the Sergeant slammed the gladius in up to the hilt and glared at the Umbria warrior standing beside the door.

  Maybe, just maybe, Centurion Sisera didn’t have a death wish. With that thought in mind, the Sergeant followed Alerio through the doorway and into the administrator’s office.

  Chapter 8 - The Offer and Assumptions

  Nardi Cocceia indicated a couch for Alerio while he settled onto a one-man sofa. It didn’t escape Alerio’s attention that the room’s décor was very Roman in design.

  “When Tribune Subausterus visited, he brought gifts and observed the pleasantries of civilized negotiations,” Nardi informed his guests. “He was a cultured man. You? I don’t know what you expected to accomplish by attacking my warriors.”

  “I expected to get your attention,” Alerio replied. He held out both hands, palms up, as if presenting the outcome of the statement. “I expected you to attend to my requests. For I will get results, or…”

  The word hung in the air. Between the smile on the Centurion’s face and the armored Legionary standing three paces behind the officer, Nardi shivered.

  “Or what?”

  “Or, I march a Legion on Amelia, subdue the city before taking control of Stifone,” Alerio answered. “However, you are sitting on the border of my decision. And mind you, that’s the worst possible place to be.”

  “I am the Umbria administrator for this region,” Nardi bragged. “On my word, I can raise an army of ten thousand Umbria warriors. Both the Etruscans and Gauls fear me.”

  “Did you notice that ten of your fearsome fighters fell to two Legionaries,” Alerio pointed out. “Optio Florian. Why didn’t you employ your gladius?”

  “You took my blade, sir.”

  “You see Administrator Nardi Cocceia, I took his gladius to prevent him from slaughtering your men,” Alerio stated. “So, let’s review your situation. Two Legionaries defeated ten of your warriors and one of them didn’t have a weapon. In short, I could easily take the area required by the Republic with twenty-five Centuries of heavy infantrymen.”

  Nardi Cocceia could raise an army but it would take weeks and a meeting with the Umbria council. He wasn’t sure the Legion would take that long to arrive. Besides, the talk of war unsettled the Umbria official, so he changed the subject.

  “Tribune Subausterus offered an insultingly small amount for manpower and raw materials to build a warship at Stifone,” Nardi revealed. “He didn’t think the site was suitable and thus the reason for his low offer. What makes you think you can use Stifone?”

  “Let’s call it faith,” Alerio suggested. When the administrator looked puzzled, he added. “I can and will see the ship built. That kind of faith.”

  “I require a small token of recogn
ition for facilitating the effort,” Nardi declared. “And of course, gold for the workers’ wages and raw materials. In advance, I might add.”

  “Optio Florian, take note. This is how diplomats and men of business negotiate,” Alerio remarked while twisting around to look back at the NCO. “It’s very civilized and nice, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Nice and civilized, yes sir,” Florian confirmed.

  Shifting back to face the administrator, Alerio cocked his head and blinked his eyes as if having trouble focusing on Nardi Cocceia. Then he nodded as if understanding had just come to him.

  “Let me explain. The Tribune is a staff officer. Talking is his specialty and passing judgement is his job,” Alerio listed. “I am an infantry officer. Killing is my specialty and driving men to achieve the impossible are my jobs.”

  “Well certainly, Centurion Sisera. You are the man to complete the task,” Nardi flattered the Legion officer. “If you’ll leave the coins, I will begin gathering the workers and ordering the wood, ropes, and iron.”

  “Did you miss part of what I said?” Alerio inquired.

  “You mean about needing Stifone? Or achieving the impossible?”

  “When I look closely, I almost feel like I’m in my patron’s Villa in the Capital,” Alerio suggested while beaming a smile as he looked around the room. Then the smile dropped and the Legion officer pressed his lips together. “One fate has you up on the boards, dying with a treetop view. And me marching to Stifone and completing my mission.”

  “But you said we were negotiating,” Nardi implored.

  “One thing is interesting,” Alerio offered. “A citizen of the Republic can’t be crucified like that.”

  “A citizen? Are you offering citizenship?” gushed Nardi. “I could become a citizen of the Republic?”

  “It is appealing. Don’t you think, Administrator? A citizen can’t be tortured or whipped, and a sentence of death can be commuted to voluntary exile,” Alerio explained. “Plus, a citizen of the Republic has the right to make legal contracts and to hold property as well as having immunity from some taxes and legal obligations. Oh, and the right to sue in the courts and to appeal a magistrate’s or a lower court’s decision. You can’t say the same for an Umbrian dealing with the Republic.”