Death Caller (Clay Warrior Stories Book 13) Read online

  “You won’t be so happy when we are through with you,” Noxalis warned.

  “That is exactly what I was thinking,” Alerio replied.

  The teamster waded through the surf and, as he emerged from the sea, the Legionaries got a look at a collection of battle scars. Dimpled flesh from arrow wounds in his side and thigh, an old knife injury on his hip, a double track scar on his right shoulder, a small scar over his left eye, another under the eyelid of his right, and a crescent shaped scar on top of his head should have alerted them. But men slighted and seeking redress often miss the obvious. Especially when they were confident in their superior numbers. With their vision narrowed by emotion, two moved to the opposite side of the cart to cut off the teamster’s escape route.

  If the situation had Alerio teaching the infantrymen, he would warn against dividing their unit when facing an unknown enemy. As it was, the weapon’s instructor had other plans in mind.

  Alerio allowed his anger to resurface. The flood of rage coursing through his veins was tampered only by his lack of a blade. Being unarmed, plus the awareness that scattering dead Legionaries across the beach would expose him as more than a porter, saved the infantrymen’s lives. But it did nothing to spare the Sergeant’s pride.

  ***

  When the water reached ankle deep, Alerio sprinted straight ahead. Assuming the porter wanted to get to his mount and ride away, one of the Legionaries stepped away from his partner and grabbed the horse’s reins. The action further divided the Legion forces.

  Rather than aim for the mare, Alerio shifted and ran onto the drying cart. Halfway up the bed, the rig toppled forward. Riding the momentum of the see-sawing cart, Alerio launched his body at the Sergeant. Not headfirst, but in a cross-body attack.

  The Optio could have avoided a head on assault by shifting to either side. But the full length of the teamster, coming from above the NCO’s head, provided no escape. The body collided with him and the two crashed to the beach. Once they landed on the soft soil, the real fight should have started. But the porter partially rose, lifted one knee, and drove it into the Sergeant’s solar plexus. The brawl ended with the Optio gasping and fighting to draw air into his lungs. To his distress, he failed to defend his gladius.

  Alerio drove his knee deep into the NCO. With a satisfying crunch, he recognized the breaking of ribs which meant internal bruising. The Optio would be in pain for weeks from the strike. As he rolled off, Alerio wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the Legion sword and drew it from the sheath as he came to his feet.

  “Your first mistake was ignoring the battle damage on my body,” Alerio cautioned the two Legionaries. Using his right hand, he tossed the gladius high overhead. The blade flipped and spun, reflecting the morning light. When it came down, Alerio caught the hilt in his left hand. “And your second was assuming I would be an easy victim.”

  The infantrymen drew their gladii, closed in shoulder to shoulder, and stalked forward.

  Alerio ran four steps and jumped the cart shaft. As soon as he landed, one hand slammed opened the top of the storage box.

  “You can take the Optio,” Alerio told the Legionaries while drawing a second gladius from the box, “and go. Or…”

  “Or what?” one of the infantrymen questioned.

  Alerio bounced the sides of both blades against his thighs.

  “Or you can spend the morning with your friendly Legion medic,” Alerio replied. “Getting sewn up from four cuts each.”

  “Four?” the other Legionary asked. “Why four?”

  “One for each of your arms and legs,” Alerio informed him.

  “You can do that?” the other inquired.

  “I was a Legion weapon’s instructor,” Alerio said. “I am that good. Your choice. Painfully slow stitches or a swift retreat?”

  When they sheathed their blades, Alerio tossed the NCO’s gladius over their heads in the direction of the naval station. For a moment, the Legionaries hesitated.

  “I don’t need both blades to hurt you,” Alerio advised. “Take the Optio and go.”

  They lifted Noxalis from the sand and as the three moved away, Alerio placed the gladius in the storage box and pulled out clean clothes. But he did not pull them on. Rather, he snatched his wet and now sandy shirt and pants from the beach and waded into the surf to rinse off the sand.

  ***

  Later and further down the beach, Alerio pulled the mare to a stop.

  “Sisera. Good morning,” the Master of the Catch greeted him. “I promised you a surprise.”

  “Yes, sir,” Alerio replied. Inside, he burned with the urge to gut the fisherman boss. Instead, he nodded and bowed. “I came early.”

  “And so, you did,” the Master exclaimed. “Tristis has his eyes on you. If you are selected as one of his porters, your life will be improved greatly.”

  ‘I can’t say the same for him,’ Alerio thought. Then to the Master, he inquired. “Is there a load for me?”

  “Dried and fresh fish to the restaurants in town,” the fish boss explained. “It doesn’t pay per mile. It is a per stop contract. Are you interested?”

  “Whatever you think is best,” Alerio said.

  “That’s my good lad,” the Master boasted.

  Fisherman placed varieties of fish on sections of the rig. After loading, Alerio guided the cart along the beach. A short way from the fish drying racks, a horse and rider passed Alerio coming from the other direction. While Alerio continued towards the town, the rider pulled up at the drying racks.

  “Tristis wants to know if you’ve seen the two porters that were sent to Mostacciano,” Silenus inquired.

  “No. Why would I?” the Master responded. “They don’t work for me and aren’t my responsibility.”

  “You like the coins Tristis gives you?” Silenus challenged. “Ask around and see if you can locate them.”

  “Tell the agent, I’ll do my best,” the fish boss informed him. “But if he is down two men, remind him, I get a finder’s fee for Sisera.”

  “If he is needed,” the head porter informed the Master of the Catch, “you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

  Chapter 11 – Coins for Blind Eyes

  Alerio had eaten at several of the more established restaurants. In those instances, he had come through the front door as a Legion officer and been greeted cordially. As a fish porter, he entered through the rear and was barely noticed. Once told how many fish, he was left alone to fill the order. Then after coins were dropped into his palm, he was ignored. The initial fear of being recognized as an officer at the better eateries soon vanished.

  He went about his deliveries unnoticed, just another invisible teamster. By the seventh eatery, his purse had grown heavy, the cart lighter, and his patience thin.

  “The life of a porter is unglamorous. And we are no closer to finding the intelligence behind the thefts,” he complained to the horse. Alerio shouldered two large fish, headed to the rear door of the restaurant, and declared. “No glory, no challenge, and no progress in the investigation.”

  Before he reached the door, a rider reined in beside the cart.

  “Are you Sisera?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Alerio replied. “I am he.”

  “Sir, I like that,” the man said while laughing. “After your last delivery, go to the blue villa overlooking the beach.”

  “Is there a load, sir?” Alerio asked, again using the term of respect.

  “I could grow accustomed to being addressed as sir,” the rider suggested. “No load, you are going to meet Tristis.”

  “The agent?” Alerio inquired.

  “Yes, the agent,” the rider replied. “There is only one Tristis in Ostia. Are you slow?”

  Alerio put a puzzled expression on his face and let his mouth fall open.

  “I don’t think so,” he answered after several long moments.

  The rider ran his eyes over Alerio’s physique and chuckled.

  “Tristis likes his porters with strong
backs and weak minds. He’ll love you,” he exclaimed. “Remember the blue villa. And don’t stop off for drinks on the way.”

  “The blue villa,” Alerio repeated as if it was a religious mantra. “No drinks. Blue villa.”

  “You are perfect,” the rider stated as he reined his horse around. Then to emphasis the instructions, he said again. “The blue villa overlooking the beach.”

  The man and mount rode away and Alerio leaned towards the mare and whispered.

  “The blue villa overlooking the beach. Sound lovely, doesn’t it.”

  With a renewed interest in his deliveries, Alerio strutted into the restaurant.

  ***

  Alerio pulled the mare to a stop in front of the blue villa with a view of the beach. During the last few deliveries, Alerio made sure the fish water and blood soaked into his shirt. And so, with the fragrance of a ripe fisherman, he climbed off the cart and strolled to the iron gate of the blue villa.

  “Who are you?” a house guard inquired.

  “Sisera,” Alerio replied from under the brim of his felt petasos.

  When the stranger did not supply additional information the guard questioned, “What do you want?”

  “Agent Tristis,” Alerio said.

  The newly arrived teamster did not have the courtesy to even lift the hat and look the guard in the face.

  “But does he want you?” the household guard joked.

  “Maybe,” came the one-word response.

  The guard huffed up and bared his teeth. Before he could open the gate, step out, and teach the smelly, upstart teamster a lesson in manners, the rider came from the villa.

  “Sisera, get in here,” the rider instructed. “My name is Silenus. I’m the head porter for Tristis.”

  The household guard opened the gate and Alerio strolled through. As he came abreast of the sentry, Alerio moved close to the guard forcing the man to lean back to avoid the brim of the hat.

  Adding to the irritation of the short answers and the brush with the brim, Alerio lifted his nose in the air and announced loudly, “Sisera.”

  Behind Alerio and Silenus, the household guard seethed at the arrogance of the new teamster. At the first opportunity, he would teach the porter to show respect for one of Tristis’ household guards.

  ***

  The villa was moderate compared to the better ones in Rome and the summer estates of the wealthy. However, in the great room, a view of the beach and the sea composed a beautiful feature. Other than in murals, urban compounds lacked the sight.

  “It is a nice landscape, isn’t it?” a middle-aged man offered when he noted Alerio’s attention to the scene. “It’s why I bought the villa.”

  The man stood framed by a backdrop of sand and sea as if a pirate captain on a warship. Moving away from the window, the resemblance did not fade. Tristis carried the muscles of a man who worked with his body and could fight. Maybe a little thicker around the middle than when he was younger, but still a man accustomed to physical hardships.

  “Master Tristis, this is Sisera,” Silenus introduced Alerio.

  “The Master of the Catch speaks highly of you,” the agent stated. “What do you have to say about that?”

  Alerio yanked the petasos from his head and held it by his side.

  “I have his coins,” Alerio added. He pulled a pouch from under his shirt and raised it to eye level. “The Master of the Catch will be glad. I got top coin for the fish.”

  There was something about the delivery of the words that intrigued Agent Tristis.

  “And how about yesterday’s fish sale?” he inquired.

  “Fish and salt,” Alerio articulated. “I got top coin for the fish and salt.”

  Tristis looked across the room at Silenus.

  “Head porter, if I asked Sisera how the sale went the day before yesterday,” the agent mentioned. “What do you think he would say?”

  Before Silenus could respond, Alerio blurted out, “The sale of fish at Infernetto. I got top coin for the fish.”

  “Alright, Top Coin,” Tristis announced. “Can you be at the main gate of the Legion Post at moonrise, tonight?”

  “Yes, sir,” Alerio responded with a brace and a hand salute.

  “That’s all,” Tristis ordered. “Show yourself out.”

  Alerio stuffed away the coin purse and placed the hat on his head before leaving the great room.

  “Silenus, do you know what we have in Sisera?” Tristis asked the head porter.

  “A slow teamster who follows orders?” Silenus guessed.

  “More than that,” the agent explained. “He was a Legionary. A combat veteran based on the scar on his head. And he is looking for a new commander. Did you notice the salute?”

  “You got all that from one meeting?” Silenus questioned.

  “The tip off was Sisera’s honesty towards the fish boss,” Tristis revealed. “A head wound may have slowed his thinking. But it did not erase the Legionary’s loyalty.”

  “We’ll know more tonight as we move the shipment,” Silenus offered.

  “Yes, we will,” the agent replied.

  He walked to the window and, as if posing for a portrait, stood gazing out over the beach and the water.

  ***

  Alerio paused on the steps down to the courtyard and the gate. Bending, he tightened the straps on his sandals and secured the waist tie for his pants. Finally, he reached to the small of his back and loosened the sheath of the Golden Valley dagger.

  ‘Hopefully, the blade will not be necessary,’ he thought as he resumed the descent.

  “Guard open the gate,” Alerio instructed in a voice pitched higher than his usual tone.

  In addition to the hysterical and demanding voice, the teamster strutted from the stair well as if he owned the villa. The household guard swung the gate open and, even though the villa resided at the seashore, there was but a weak squeak of a hinge.

  “My business is concluded,” Alerio said projecting snootiness with each word. “The next time, I expect faster service.”

  The gateway lay open and the guard occupied an area beside the brick gate post. It should have been a simple beating. And well deserved as Alerio had agitated the guard from the time he arrived until…

  The rust on the hinges made the meekest of shrieks. Just enough for Alerio to twist out of the way of the iron gate. And although it did not slam into his shoulder, Alerio stumbled forward and tripped as if the iron had made contact.

  He rolled quickly and caught the boot that traveled towards his ribs. Rolling onto the guard’s leg and using the side of the knee joint to push to a standing position, Alerio rose over the guard.

  He pounded the back of the man’s head with an elbow. Then again, the bent arm rocked the guard’s cranium.

  “How many household guards?” Alerio demanded.

  Reeling from the battering to his brain and not thinking clearly, the man replied, “Six household guards.”

  “You shouldn’t kick so hard,” Alerio suggested.

  Then Alerio rolled down the outstretch leg, hit the ground, and shoved off the gravel. He rose and fell before rolling away from the dazed guard.

  “Enough, please, I apologize,” Alerio cried.

  Coming to his feet, Alerio stumbled away in the direction of his horse and rig.

  Behind him, the guard noticed the result of his kick to the teamster’s ribs.

  “Next time keep a civil tongue when talking to me,” the household guard warned. Then he scolded himself. “Hold back on those kicks. The knee hurts and you’ve given yourself a headache.”

  The household guard ambled back to the gate satisfied with beating respect into the new teamster. On the street, Alerio rode away armed with the knowledge of how many men guarded Tristis’ villa.

  ***

  An almost full moon peeked over the horizon, but its illumination failed to reach the ground. Clouds blocked most of the moonlight. Even in the subdued light, Alerio could see four other rigs waiting on
the side of the road. He eased in behind them.

  A mounted rider trotted along the defensive wall of the Legion Post. At Alerio’s rig, he pulled up.

  “Sisera, you are right on time,” Silenus told him.

  “Yes, sir,” Alerio responded. He tilted his head and the felt hat lifted. From under the brim, he remarked. “The others are early.”

  “Yes, they were,” Silenus acknowledged with a chuckle. “But you are right on time, Top Coin.”

  “Right on time,” Alerio mimicked.

  The head porter rode to another mounted man. They exchanged words and both laughed. Shortly after the conversation, the riders and the five carts started forward. When they reached the gate to the Legion Post, the second rider stopped at the gatehouse. He spoke to a stooped Legionary NCO.

  While the other carts rolled by the Sergeant of the Guard and the mounted man, Alerio kept his head down and his face hidden in the shadow of the hat. When he came through the gate, a quick glance confirmed the identities.

  The injured Optio Noxalis leaned against the side of the guardhouse talking to Agent Tristis who sat on his horse. Something illegal was taking place. The lateness of the loading and the pouch of coins the agent passed down to the Legion Optio confirmed it.

  However, Alerio had a problem. He had no idea of the nature of the crime or even proof of a misdeed. Blind to the facts, he urged the horse forward to keep up with the other teamsters.

  Head Porter Silenus and the parade of rigs circled a structure. In the dark it was hard to see which building. Only when moonlight streamed through a break in the clouds did Alerio see a double row of river rocks and the black soil of a garden. Then the moonlight faded, and the carts circled the structure to stop at the supply depot’s shipping and receiving department.

  “Six barrels or containers for each cart,” Silenus instructed. He slipped off the horse and walked towards a man standing in the dark. Over his shoulder, the head porter cautioned. “Look for the marked barrels and containers. I don’t want us taking any of those that came in over the last few days. For every unmarked barrel you take. You will lose the fee for that container.”

  The orders sent four of the teamsters rushing for the open doorway. But Alerio took a moment to check the mare. While pulling on the harness, he tried to see the man talking to Silenus.