Bloody Water (Clay Warrior Stories Book 3) Page 5

  “We’re pulling the corpse up now,” said Eligius.

  Sixth Squad had lashed a three-pole structure together over the hole so they could bring the body out fully before swinging it to the ground. A pair of sandals appeared and when a pair of brightly striped pants came into view, Alerio raced back to hut.

  “Sir. The man from the merchant ship carrying the parchment and scrolls was just pulled from the well,” he explained.

  “It seems Cetea wasn’t just a non-reader; he didn’t like librarians either,” the officer stated. “Sergeant. I need the body on the boat with Sisera and the bundle.”

  “Yes, Sir. I’ll pull the squads from the grain storage area and the defensive perimeter,” Cletus explained.

  “Sisera. Wait for the squads. Once they have the body, go with them to the beach,” the Centurion ordered. “Unless you discover something else.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Alerio said as he left the hut for the second time.

  Act 4

  Chapter 15 – Rhegium Garrison Southern Legion

  No one bothered to wake Alerio where he dozed in the bow of the patrol boat. It was the sudden talking between oarsmen that alerted him they were nearing their destination.

  “Liberty in Rhegium tonight,” a rower said voicing his anticipation of a night on the town.

  “I’m with you,” another stated.

  Alerio sat up and glanced over his shoulder. The solid blocks of the Rhegium tower were easily seen in the distance. With a raised view of the opposite shore, it provided the best place to scrutinize the edge of Massina. While the city’s walls blocked a view of the harbor on the far shore, the height allowed Legionaries to monitor ships entering and departing the port.

  The port of Rhegium occupied the shoreline north of the tower. On this side of the strait, the city of Rhegium stretched from the flat land at the harbor to where the mountains began to climb. A few of the buildings on the elevated ground actually had a view of Massina. But, they were far enough back the view was obscured.

  On this side of the tower, the garrison’s wall ran from the base of the tower to a tree line. Along the walls rested patrol boats; some under construction, and others beached for repairs of broken boards, or for re-caulking. Over the wall, the clay shingled roofs of Legion buildings could be seen.

  The patrol boat drifted the last two yards and nudged against the beach.

  Alerio jumped to solid ground and walked up the beach to get out of the crew’s way. After they had pulled the boat clear of the water, four Legionaries slid the stretcher and the unknown corpse off the boat.

  “Where to Lance Corporal?” a stretcher-bearer asked.

  “Planning and Strategies,” replied Alerio. “Wherever that is?”

  Sergeant Martius limped to the grass at the top of the beach.

  “In the Command building,” he said while pointing at the main gate. “Cross the quad. The entrance is around back.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Alerio said as he began to angle up the beach.

  “Sisera. You might want to wash off and clean your gear before meeting with the Command staff,” suggested Martius.

  “I’d also like to have a hot meal and a large mug of vino,” Alerio replied. “But Centurion Narcissus said this bundle, that body, and my report were rush items.”

  “Carry on, Lance Corporal,” Martius said as he headed toward the patrol boat to inspect the vessel.

  Chapter 16 - Southern Legion Planning and Strategies

  Alerio lead the bearers through the gate, across the parade ground, and along the side of the Command building. In the rear, he found a shaded courtyard with a small flower garden. An elderly man in a duty tunic was on his knees turning soil at the base of a flowing vine. Alerio paused and started to ask directions. But, after spotting an entrance, he didn’t. Instead he made for the doorway.

  “Set it down and wait here,” he ordered the Legionaries with the stretcher. As he stepped over the threshold, he announced, “Lance Corporal Sisera. Reporting per orders of Centurion Narcissus.”

  From a desk in a corner, a Sergeant looked over a stack of parchment.

  “You are filthy, Lance Corporal,” the NCO observed. “Don’t you think you should have cleaned up before reporting to Command?”

  “I’ve just come from the Occhio Inlet with these,” he replied while holding out the bundle. “Plus, a foreign body and my report. The Centurion said it was urgent.”

  “Stand by,” the NCO said as he stood and marched through a door behind his desk.

  Alerio glanced around the room. There were two other desks also piled with parchment shoved against walls. The positioning was necessary as a large table occupied the center of the room. Covering its surface was a goatskin sheet hiding lumpy objects that rested on the tabletop. Around the room shelves lined every wall except where a desk and chair rested, or one of the three doors prevented storage.

  The Sergeant returned and behind him marched First Sergeant Gerontius and a Senior Centurion.

  “Sir. Yesterday the garrison at Occhio was attacked by the Illyrian Navy,” Alerio began but stopped when the Centurion held up a hand.

  “Velius. Would you like to join us?” the Centurion shouted toward the rear door. When there was no reply, the senior officer called out again, “Tribune Velius. Your presence is requested.”

  It was almost humorous to have the Senior Centurion, the First Sergeant, and a staff NCO of the Southern Legion’s Command staff standing around waiting. Alerio almost lost it but the narrowed eyes of the other three reminded him of his lowly position. He bit down on his tongue.

  The old man from the garden eventually shuffled through the door.

  “Tribune Velius,” began the Centurion, but the old man laid a finger over his own lips to silence the senior officer.

  “Pardon me Centurion Patroclus,” Tribune Velius said as he shuffled to a desk. Once there, he swept the top of the desk clear of parchment. “The body is of an Egyptian. Based on the ink stains on his right hand and left figures, he was a clerk, or an accountant. However, from the band creases around his head, I’d say a royal scribe. The creases would be from the headdress he wore at the King of Egypt’s court.”

  “What was a royal scribe doing on a merchant ship in Occhio?” asked the officer.

  “Senior Centurion Patroclus, if we knew the answer to that, it wouldn’t be a mystery. Would it?” stated Velius. Turning to Alerio, he asked, “Is that bundle for me, Lance Corporal?”

  “Yes, Tribune. It’s parchment and scrolls the royal scribe carried,” reported Alerio.

  “Please, place them on the desk,” Velius ordered while indicating one of the empty desks. Turning to the staff NCO, he asked, “Staff Sergeant Octavian, if you would begin sorting the documents? Now, Lance Corporal if you would relate the details as you know them.”

  Alerio was partway through his story when First Sergeant Gerontius interrupted.

  “Navarch? An Illyrian Admiral lead the attack?” he asked while grinding his teeth. “He killed and wounded my Legionaries. For what? A chest of coin. I want to kill him slowly. With my bare hands.”

  “First Sergeant. If you would have the stretcher-bearers carry the Egyptian to Medical,” suggested Velius. “Have the Medics pack the body in salt. I’ve a feeling, we’ll be returning him to his King.”

  Growling as he made for the door, Alerio realized the First Sergeant was personally upset at the loss of the Legionaries. Like a father who had lost sons, he was grieving, angry, and frustrated at not being able to extract revenge.

  “Lance Corporal Sisera, please continue,” said Velius.

  While Alerio went through the sequence of events, the First Sergeant returned and pulled up a chair where he sat quietly fuming. Senior Centurion Patroclus collected a chair and sat off to the side. The only ones’ standing were Tribune Velius and Alerio.

  During the report, the sun went down and Staff Sergeant Octavian sorted all the documents into piles. Except for a few questions by
Velius, Alerio told them the entire story uninterrupted.

  “Very well, Lance Corporal Sisera. I’d like you back here at first light,” Velius said at the end. Then turning to Gerontius asked, “If that’s all right with you, First Sergeant?”

  “Sisera. Report to me at the front desk in the morning,” instructed Gerontius. “Clean your gear but leave it in your quarters. Report in a duty uniform. Dismissed.”

  Alerio saluted by slamming his right fist into his chest. Flakes of dried blood broke loose and fell. In shock, he looked down as the chips floated to the floor.

  Tribune Velius studied the flakes as they created an ill regular pattern on the tiles. A slight smile crossed his face before he looked up and locked eyes with the young Legionary.

  “Don’t worry about it, Lance Corporal,” the Tribune said. “Go and clean up. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Alerio marched to the rear door and stepped out into the night.

  Chapter 17 – Beware the Dark Arts

  Unable to sleep, Alerio strapped on his hobnailed boots and slid a loose tunic over his head. As he stepped from the transit barracks, he took in a deep breath. Although sunrise was still half the night away, he felt restless and needed a run. At the rear gate of the garrison, he nodded at the duty Legionary and headed for town.

  After a few blocks, he turned right on a dark road and started up into the hills. When he reached the edge of the settlement, he stopped and looked back. Over the town, across the moon lit waters, and slightly to the north weak lights from the city of Massina glowed softly. The only thing he could gather from the view; Massina seemed to be about as large as Rhegium.

  Alerio retraced his route downhill and ended up at the docks. Running along the piers, he noted the number of valuable merchant ships lashed to the pilings. They were anchored, just two-arrow flights distance from where the pirates known as the Sons of Mars lived in Messina. At the end of the dock, he jogged in a half circle, and headed toward the garrison.

  Lighting a lantern at the gladius training pit, he secured two wooden training gladii from the supply shed. Once loosened up, he began to attack the training post. In short order, he was running simultaneous right and left sword drills.

  “Up early, Sisera?” a voice asked loud enough to be heard over the hammering of the gladii.

  With a final slap at the post, Alerio turned and blinked away the sweat from his eyes.

  “Good morning, First Sergeant Gerontius,” he said once he identified the speaker. “Seemed like a good idea to get a workout in before reporting to you.”

  “I’m heading to the baths,” said the First Sergeant. “Put away your toys and join me. There are a number of things we need to discuss.”

  Alerio shelved the heavy wooden gladii, blew out the lantern, and ran to catch up with the Southern Legion’s First Sergeant.

  They soaped in one bath, rinsed off in another, and did a final cleansing in a third. Now they sat on benches with curved brass scrapers, slushing off water while massaging their muscles.

  “Do you know what Tribune Velius does for the Legion?” Patroclus asked as he scraped at his moist skin.

  “Planning and Strategies I assume,” replied Alerio. “Although I’m not sure what that is to start with.”

  “Before a Legion takes the field, it gets a number of things. New recruits to create squads so the Centuries are brought to full strength. A Major General from an important political family, and a General chosen from among the sitting Senators. Along with the General comes a gaggle of young Tribunes,” explained Patroclus. He stopped speaking as he reached back and scraped behind his shoulder blades. Once finished with the awkward position, he asked, “What do all those additions to the Legion have in common?”

  “I’m not sure First Sergeant,” admitted Alerio. “What do they have in common?”

  “None of them have military training, or the first idea of how to deploy a Legion,” Gerontius stated. “It’s why we have a full time Colonel, a Senior Centurion, a First Sergeant, and on the Century level, Centurions, Sergeants, Corporals and Lance Corporals. We are the military professionals who know maneuvers and how to fight in a battle line.”

  “So, for planning and strategies we need people experienced with battlefield tactics,” offered Alerio. “The Tribune and the Staff Sergeant are here to advise the Command staff on the best way to approach an enemy.”

  “But Lance Corporal, the Southern Legion hasn’t been ordered to take the field. We’re on garrison duty,” Gerontius said as he stood and slipped a duty tunic over his head. “There is something that comes before calling up a full Legion to fight. First, you’ve got to study and learn as much as you can about an enemy.”

  “Intelligence. Tribune Velius and Staff Sergeant Octavian are gathering intelligence,” said Alerio as he pulled his tunic over his head.

  “There’s another word for them,” Patroclus said as he walked toward the exit. “Spies, masters of the dark arts. I’ll see you in my office at dawn.”

  Chapter 18 - The Big Picture

  “First Sergeant Gerontius. Lance Corporal Sisera reporting as ordered,” Alerio said as he entered the Command building.

  The sun had yet to appear over the mountains but the lightening sky qualified as predawn. Gerontius looked up from his desk. He eyed the olive tunic with the Lance Corporal band of woven bronze thread around the right sleeve. Then, he shifted to the Legion gladius instructor tab on the young Legionary’s chest and the eastern Legion Raider sash with a rising sun over cresting waves painted on the silk.

  “Better than yesterday,” scowled the First Sergeant in appreciation of the duty tunic. Gone was any sign of the relaxed conversation of a short while ago. “You are meeting with Tribune Velius this morning. When he’s finished with you, report back to me for your orders.”

  “Orders?” asked Alerio.

  “Did I mumble?” inquired Gerontius. He jerked his thumb indicating a door behind his desk. “Don’t keep the Tribune waiting.”

  Alerio circled the First Sergeant’s desk and pushed open a door. There he found a long hallway with doors to offices on one side and several small windows on the other. At the end of the hall, he opened the door and stepped into the large rear room. In front of him was the Staff Sergeant’s desk. It was empty. However, the room wasn’t.

  “Lance Corporal Sisera. Kind of you to join me,” Tribune Velius said as if Alerio had a choice in the matter. “Let me assure you, I was very pleased with your report yesterday. As well as your heroic act in saving the women and children of the farming community. I suppose you have questions.”

  “Good morning, Tribune Velius,” Alerio replied. “I have no questions, Sir. Just reporting as ordered.”

  “Perhaps you have no questions because you lack knowledge,” said Velius as he shuffled to an end of the large table. “Please, help me with this.”

  The old Tribune gathered up a corner of the goatskin sheet with one wrinkled hand. He pointed to where he wanted Alerio. Together, they carefully lifted and folded the sheet until the lumpy items on the table top were uncovered.

  Alerio was puzzled at first. There was a shiny, wide ribbon of blue separating two brown lumps. Something looked familiar and he walked to the other end of the table.

  “This looks like the inlet at Occhio and Point Ravagnese,” said Alerio while pointing at a carved-out piece of brown next to the blue band.

  “Very astute of you. In fact, this is a scale model of the Straits of Massina and the area of operation for the Southern Legion. Plus, the island of Sicilia,” explained the Tribune. “Think of it as the view a soaring eagle would have of the land and the sea.”

  “It’s a map,” blurted out Alerio. “I didn’t recognize it. Everything is miniaturized like the toy Legionaries I had as a child.”

  “Exactly. Oh, wait a moment,” Velius said as he walked slowly to a shelf and pulled down a big box.

  He handed the box to Alerio. Reaching in, he pulled out a handful of red triangles.
Velius sidestepped around the table, placing the triangles along the eastern edge of the blue ribbon. Several times, he moved the symbols from one area to another. When he was satisfied with the placements, he returned to the box and pulled out a blue piece, a yellow piece and a black disc.

  The blue was placed on the lower end of Sicilia. The yellow on the far side of the island, and the black circle on the shore across the blue band from a group of red triangles.

  “Red represents the Southern Legion along the coast of the Republic,” he explained. “Blue is the City State of Syracuse. Black indicates Massena just across the strait. And the yellow is territory controlled by the Qart Hadasht Empire. Until yesterday, the Empire was the focus of my attention.”

  “Until yesterday?” asked Alerio. “What changed?”

  “Walk with me,” Velius ordered.

  The old Tribune circled the table, stopping to stare at a section for a moment before moving on to another area. Alerio followed and felt foolish as he could have stood anywhere in the room and watched Velius move slowly around the big table. At the far end, where the Republic’s land curved around to the east, Velius put his finger on the map.

  “The town of Bovesia at the Kaikinos River,” he said so softly Alerio could barely make out the words. “That’s where the answer is.”

  “Tribune Velius. The answer to what?” asked Alerio.

  “Come please,” Velius said. He walked to where two desks were shoved together. The extra space was necessary as the parchments and scrolls from the village at Occhio were stacked on the surface. “These are detailed shipping requests from Egypt to the Greeks. And, records of proposed payments from Egypt to the Athenians. All the documents are for the transportation of…”

  Alerio waited for the Tribune to finish his thoughts. Except, he didn’t. He just stood there staring at the stacks. Finally, Alerio couldn’t stand the silence.

  “For the transportation of what?” he asked.

  “Ah, now, young Lance Corporal Sisera, you have the question,” Velius said. He looked up from the parchment and studied Alerio’s face. “Can you find me the answer?”