Neptune's Fury Read online

  Not long ago, Alerio Sisera, with no tasks requiring his attention, grasped for something that needed his direction. He now had a purpose at the Stifone shipyard.

  “Who had access to the storage shed?” Alerio asked the ship builder.

  “Everyone in the boatyard,” Cata replied.

  “That narrows it down,” Alerio announced with a laugh.

  “How do you figure?”

  “We know the saboteur is an Umbrian,” Alerio announced as he walked away.

  Cata Pous didn’t understand the smile on the face of the young Legion officer, or the man’s good humor at the discovery of a vandal in their midst.

  It wasn’t levity putting the spring in Alerio’s steps. It was the focus required and the thrill of a hunt.

  ***

  “Lieutenant Roscini, why do you want to delay the building of the trireme?” Alerio snapped at Tite.

  The young farmer rocked back on his heels from the force of the accusation.

  “I don’t Centurion Sisera,” he assured the Legion officer. Tite pointed at the Sergeant. “Ask Optio Florian. He’ll prove I am working as hard as anyone for the success of Stifone.”

  Alerio raised his eye brows and glared at the NCO.

  “Sergeant. Place it on my desk, please,” Alerio instructed.

  When the Optio hesitated, Tite asked, “Place what on your desk, sir?”

  “The proof. You said he could prove your loyalty,” Alerio replied. “Let me see it.”

  Corporal Ludovicus Humi slapped a hand over his mouth. The hand hid his grin and prevented any mouth sounds of amusement from escaping. The humor of the situation flew away when the Centurion shifted his eyes in the direction of the Tesserarius.

  “When did the militia last do a mountain run, Corporal?” Alerio inquired. “Maybe you should lead one to show the Umbrians how the Legion does it.”

  “I’ll work that into the training schedule, sir,” Humi promised. All traces of humor vanished with the Centurion’s mention of a run through the mountains.

  “See that you do,” Alerio commented before refocusing on Tite. “Lieutenant Roscini, someone planned for us to be caught by surprise with a ruined hypozomata. Optio Florian doesn’t like surprises. I don’t like surprises. No one in the Legion like surprises.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tite said.

  “You have two men from the same family in the militia,” Alerio reported. “Is there any reason they would want to delay the construction of the warship?”

  “Not that I know of, Centurion,” he answered. “They came recommended by area Administrator Nardi Cocceia. And I don’t believe he wants any delay.”

  Alerio looked down at a growing pile of parchment. Each sheet listed manpower and materials used for building the trireme. All were paid by Nardi Cocceia with the expectation the Administrator would be reimbursed once the warship was delivered. As well as a reward by the Senate for his service.

  “I do not think the administrator wants to foot the bills for any more days than necessary,” Alerio observed. “Set your militia watches so we have overlapping guards on the shipyard and the camps. Let’s see if we can prevent any further sabotage. Dismissed.”

  Lieutenant Tite Roscini saluted, turned, and marched out of the room.

  “Thoughts?” Alerio questioned his two Legion NCOs.

  “Centurion, Tite is solid. If he trusts his militiamen, I have to think our trouble is coming from elsewhere,” Florian remarked.

  “We could roust the laborers’, carpenters’, and craftsmen’s camps, sir,” Corporal Humi suggested. “A little physical encouragement and I bet we could uncover the culprit.”

  “What makes you think it’s one person?” questioned Sergeant Florian.

  “Well, I just thought. That if. Ah well, one person could sneak around and do damage unseen,” the Tesserarius finally got out. “Give me the word Centurion and I’ll start questioning the Umbrians.”

  “Let’s hold off on beating and angering the work force for now,” Alerio stated. “That would slow us down worse than having to assemble a new rope.”

  “If that’s want you want, sir,” Humi said.

  “Orders?” Florian asked.

  “There’s nothing we can do short of penning the Umbrians up like slaves,” Alerio described. “And we don’t have Centuries to accomplish that. For now, all three of us need to be vigilant and visible. Maybe our presence will discourage anymore wreckage.”

  Chapter 13 - Progress Reports

  For three weeks, as the hull rose on either side of the trireme and expanded to close in on the fore and aft beams, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Metal workers sharpened and repaired steel and iron tools. Carpenters notched boards, carved biscuits, and bored holes for the dowels. Craftsmen, laborers, and apprentices scurried around doing the one thousand and one things necessary to build a ship-of-war.

  Growing up on a farm, Alerio learned to enjoyed sunrise and the dark, still hours before. It was why he picked the third watch. Plus, at dawn, the work started and he was there to answer questions when the laborers arrived.

  Cata Pous, the boat builder, and Pejus Monilis, the engineer, would arrive to supervise. When they did, Centurion Sisera made a habit, to their annoyance, of cheerfully greeting them.

  ***

  This morning was no different. The pair of masters, huddled in robes against the early morning chill of the mountain air, came out of the thin forest groggy and sleepy eyed.

  “Good day, master builder and master engineer,” Alerio roared. “While you rested in the arms of Hypnos and acted in Morpheus’ plays, the Legion was standing watch.”

  “I neither slept well nor dreamed,” Pejus Monilis complained. “I was worried about flooding.”

  Alerio looked up at the morning sky and searched for clouds.

  “I see no sign of Tempestas,” he declared. “Perhaps you dreamed of rain and a storm?”

  “The dry of summer has passed,” Pejus said as if explaining something to a child. “Until the first frost, rain in the mountains will rush down and raise the Nera. A surge of a couple of feet and the river will wash over the sandbar and flood our building channel.”

  “And the worker’s camps,” Cata Pous added.

  “In your sleeplessness, Master Monilis, did you arrive at a solution?” Alerio asked.

  “Yes, Centurion. We move the camps out of the work area,” Pejus responded. “And we build an earthen berm between this area and the river.”

  Alerio peered off into the distance as if he could see through the trees. Slowing pivoting, he rotated, visualizing the bend in the river. Once facing westward where he could see the Nera beyond the partially constructed trireme, Alerio stopped and frowned.

  “How far?” he whispered without taking his eyes off the river.

  “We’ll need to construct a third of a mile of soil and rock barrier,” the engineer replied. “Plus, it would be best if we relocated the workers’ camps, just in case the dam fails. That means building steps to the higher elevation.”

  “And what do you have to say about this development, Master Pous,” Alerio inquired.

  “Diverting all our labor will delay the ship building,” Cata answered.

  “Pejus. Did you destroy our secondary hypozomata?” Alerio questioned without looking at the engineer.

  “Excuse me, Centurion Sisera. Why would you ask that?” Pejus questioned.

  “Because the berm is a delay and anyone helping to delay our project is a suspect?”

  “Are you accusing me of being the saboteur?”

  “Not really. My mind is occupied,” Alerio admitted. “I need to go and write a couple of letters.”

  “Letters? You’re thinking of missives while we discuss shifting our efforts?” Cata inquired.

  Alerio lifted an arm and indicated the river bank downstream.

  “I spotted a Century guide pole between the hills,” Alerio offered. “A patrol from Fort Orte can carry letters back to the fort and from the
re, they can be shipped to the Capital. So, yes, letters. Two to be exact.”

  In a few heartbeats, the pole with a small battle flag appeared briefly before vanishing behind a hill.

  “Letters, yes,” Pejus stated. “I need to write my family.”

  He and Alerio walked away, leaving the Greek standing alone.

  “I’ll get the carpenters started on the steps,” Cata advised.

  Alerio lifted an arm and waved back, “You do that, master builder.”

  ***

  In his office, Alerio settled behind his desk. With his hand hovering over a piece of parchment, he hesitated. The easy part was who he should he write to. It was the exact message that gave him pause.

  Even though absent, Tribune Subausterus was next in Alerio’s chain of command. Obviously, he deserved a progress report. But, should the staff officer also be warned about Nardi Cocceia’s expectations? If dashed by a negative reply from the Tribune, the Administrator would pull his support and end the warship’s construction. Alerio settled for a general description of the situation.

  “Let’s see if you can read between the lines, Tribune Subausterus,” Alerio challenged while setting the first document to the side.

  Sliding another piece of paper off a stack, Centurion Sisera stopped. This time it wasn’t a pause, it was a full halt to the enterprise. He and Fleet Praetor Zelare Sudoris did not get along. Then, two bad thoughts occurred to Alerio.

  He could simply not write a letter to the Fleet Praetor. That would solve the problem. But it would leave the Republic’s Navy unaware of the new trireme. Besides, Alerio’s ego wanted to brag, even if just a little. The second bad thought was to deny Tribune Subausterus any credit in the letter. While it was tempting, Alerio knew the Senate had chosen the Tribune to head the Stifone project. They expected to see him mentioned in all reports.

  “Dear Praetor Zelare Sudoris. I, Centurion Alerio Sisera, am a master negotiator and a manager without peer. And possibly, the greatest thing to ever happen to the Republic’s Navy,” Alerio stated. “And maybe to the Legion in a hundred years.”

  He didn’t write that. Instead, he listed the progress made on building the ship and added a request for funds to enlarge the trench and start work on a quinquereme. One thing occurred to him when he finished. Grabbing another piece of parchment, he started a letter to his mentor, former General and current Senator, Spurius Carvilius Maximus.

  In politics, as in a war, you wanted someone you could trust at your back. And he couldn’t think of anyone better than Senator Maximus standing with him if this turned into a political battle.

  After sealing the three letters, Alerio walked outside to wait for the Legion patrol to arrive. Pejus appeared and displayed a letter of his own. After a walk down to the river, the engineer made his way along the sandbar towards the work site.

  ***

  Centurion Decalcavi allowed First and Second Squads to form a loose line on the upper portion of Stifone. The other two squads he sent down to the sandbar to wait for him.

  “Centurion Sisera. Compliments of Senior Centurion Baccharis,” the infantry officer said while extending a wineskin. “We received a shipment from the Capital and he thought you might enjoy one of the comforts of the officer’s mess.”

  Alerio started to inform the other Centurion that he hadn’t been an officer long enough to miss the comforts of dining with fellow officers. But he had been a Legion NCO and understood good fortune and excellent vino.

  “Please thank the Senior Centurion for me,” he said while taking the wineskin. “I have letters, if you have an assigned courier.”

  “Pass the word, I need acting Tesserarius Ippazio,” Decalcavi called to the line of marching Legionaries. One broke from the column and jogged back up the hill. Then to Alerio, the infantry officer added. “The rest of my Century are on a reinforced patrol heading north with Baccharis. My Sergeant and Corporal are with him. I’m using the route through Umbria as an opportunity to evaluate the NCO potential of my First and Second squad leaders.”

  “Are you expecting trouble?” Alerio inquired.

  “Nope. We’ll touch on Amelia then head northwest from the town looking for signs of an Etruscan force trying to flank the main patrol,” Decalcavi explained. “We walk this patrol once a month. It’s mostly to show Republic strength. But you never know. Maybe the local toughs will decide to give us a go.”

  “I doubt that,” Alerio ventured. “Optio Florian and I slapped a few around when I arrived. And, I’ve put most of the area’s idle hands to work.”

  “My scout reported construction activity along the river bank. But I never had a good look at it.”

  A Lance Corporal marched to the officers, saluted, and inquired, “Sir. You called for me?”

  “Decanus Ippazio. Centurion Sisera has reports for the Capital,” Decalcavi instructed. “Take charge of them. And, see that the letters catch a courier’s chariot when we return to Orte.”

  Alerio handed the letters to the Lance Corporal along with two silver coins.

  “These are as safe as a new born lamb in a barn, sir,” Ippazio declared while stuffing the missives into a pouch. Then to his officer, the acting Corporal inquired. “I don’t see Florian or Humi. Or the engineer, Monilis. They may have letters.”

  “You’ll find them down near the river around the bend,” Alerio announced.

  “Thank you, sirs,” Ippazio said while snapping up a salute before walking away.

  “Centurion Decalcavi. I’ll make a deal with you,” Alerio offered.

  “And what would that be Centurion Sisera?”

  “I’ll show you some good engineering and a warship under construction,” Alerio replied. “Then you stay and dine with me tonight.”

  “I really should keep this patrol moving.”

  “I seem to have come into some excellent vino,” Alerio offered while patting the wineskin. “And I could use some help drinking it.”

  A smile crept over the infantry officer’s face and he nodded his approval.

  “It’s a worthy task,” Decalcavi announced. “Let me tell my squad leaders to set up their tents and we’ll go see this mountain craft of yours.”

  “It’s a trireme and it’s not mine,” Alerio stated. “It’s the newest warship in the Republic’s Navy.”

  “If it floats and can make it downriver to the Capital in one piece,” Decalcavi challenged.

  “It’ll do both,” Alerio assured the other officer.

  ***

  Lance Corporal Ippazio knew Sergeant Florian, Corporal Humi, and Master Monilis. He knew them by name and on sight. Until this visit, finding them in the village of Stifone had been easy. But the work area he walked through was divided into three general zones and each swarmed with workmen.

  The side with the hill behind the partially built staircase had tool sheds. Plus, longer buildings with smoke drifting through holes in the roof. Then there were the metalworkers’ fires, their grinding wheels and, raw lumber being sawed into boards.

  Another zone was the odd trench cut into the rock. In that zone, a ship was taking form, and workers were visible only on one side of the hull. But the men working inside the ship and on the other side of the channel were out of sight. To add to the confusion, crews of apprentices raced across planks from the ship to solid ground and back.

  The final zone on the far side of the ditch had groups of young boys and teens drawing blades up long pieces of board. They rounded the edges until poles about as big around as a thumb were created. Others sliced and shaped wood to make stacks of oak flats. Each flat resembled a biscuit a little bigger than a human hand.

  It appeared to be organized chaos and the Lance Corporal crunched his face, baffled as to where to look first. Relief washed away the worry when the two infantry officers strolled out of the trees. He could follow the Centurions and find the other Republic citizens. Then he would collect their mail and get back to his squad.

  “You seem at a loss,” Decalcavi sugges
ted. “Land navigation failing you, is it?”

  “Yes, sir. Ah, no sir,” Ippazio stammered. “It’s just, this resembles the docks at the Capital when the grain ships come in. Too many people scurrying around to find anyone.”

  “Tell you what Decanus, as we find them, I’ll tell Florian, Humi, and Master Monilis to come to you with their mail,” Alerio promised. “I see this every day and forget how confusing it must appear.”

  “Thank you, Centurion Sisera, thank you,” Ippazio said. He saluted and marched into the trees.

  On the far side of the worker’s camps, he left the trees, jumped down to the sandbar, and hiked the gravel and sand to Stifone.

  ***

  Late at night, the duty Legionary at Second Squad’s tent and camp wakened Ippazio.

  “Decanus. There’s a man asking for you,” the sentry informed him.

  “Who?” Ippazio asked while he threw back his field blanket. “Is it one of the Centurions?”

  If it was an officer, he’d need to strap on his armor, his gladius, and take his helmet.

  “I don’t think so,” the Private replied. “He’s standing away from the fire so his face is hidden. I don’t know any officer who wouldn’t want to be recognized and saluted.”

  “Do not ever say that out loud again, Private,” Ippazio scolded. Although the squad leader didn’t disagree, he worried his young infantryman would be charged with insubordination and punished for voicing the opinion. “Get back to your post. I’ll be there shortly.”

  Settling for a tunic, his red cloak and Legion dagger, Lance Corporal Ippazio laced up his hobnailed boots, brushed aside the flaps, and emerged from the tent.

  Immediately, he spotted the visitor on the far side of the campfire. And just as the guard had described, the man stood far enough out of the firelight to hide his face. Plus, a heavy wrap disguised his size and the shape of his body. As Ippazio circled the fire, he regretted leaving his gladius in the tent.

  “Can I help you?” he inquired.

  “There comes a time when loyal men are called upon to aid the Republic,” the stranger whispered in what was noticeably a false voice. “Take this.”