Fatal Obligation

by J. Clifton Slater

  Alerio appreciated the layers as he jogged out of the posthouse, down the path, and across the Via Appia. On the far side, he entered the woods moving towards the river, heading in a north-east direction.

  The Osci tribesmen’s diversion from killing game to robbing a roadside traveler had transformed them from being hunters to being pursued. The Legionary reached the river and stripped before wading into the icy water. On the far side, he dressed and continued the hunt.

  ***

  Animal trails, especially wide ones, were rare. Unlike humans, migrating herds didn’t break new trails just to see what lay over the rise. Beasts, both predators and grazing animals, always choose the easiest route. The wide footpath the Osci hunters entered cut across the base of the mountain. Above it, the terrain climbed steeply. Alerio had no fear they would leave the defined trail as he angled across the river valley.

  He fast marched for two miles and stopped at a break in the trees. Taking a small path beside a stream, Alerio left the valley floor and scrambled upward. He had three advantages. In addition to being rested from the warm nap, the Osci didn’t know they were being tracked, and the stubborn mule was sure to have delayed them. Putting it all together, he figured the tribesmen would set up an early camp along the trail. It should be easy to find them.

  High up and after a long climb, Alerio paused and pushed aside tree branches. A distinct snow-covered flat area stretched before him. To his left and right, years of animal paws and hooves had trampled the hillside creating a wide trail. Peering to his left and seeing only a few deer tracks, Alerio assumed the hunters hadn’t traveled this far east. He remained in the woods and moved west until coming to a brook that cut across the trail.

  He grabbed a sapling and walked backward bending the trunk. Then he took two quick steps and jumped. The young tree sprang upright adding to Alerio’s momentum and slinging the Legionary across the path and towards the creek on the other side. Landing with his legs bridging the water, Alerio looked over his shoulder. There were no footprints or scuff marks in the snow showing he’d crossed over.

  Now on the uphill side, Alerio again moved westward watching the trail while carefully placing his feet. About a quarter of a mile later, he heard voices and the whinny of a mule fighting a lead line. Squatting down, Alerio let the prey come to him.

  ***

  The most vulnerable phases for a military unit or a quartet of hunters were after a day’s march or while breaking camp for another day on the grind. In both cases, weariness and anticipation drew their focus from the surroundings. Instead of being on guard, the longing for creature comforts and the simplicity of mundane tasks occupied their attention. On a march, they were alert and at night sleeping men made low profile targets that were hard to strike. Alerio paralleled the Osci hunters, waiting for the opportune phase for his attack.

  They crossed the brook and reached a wide area in the trail. Two hunters went to collect wood. The other two tied off the animals and tore open the food bags. Soon, all of Alerio’s rations were unpacked and taken or strewn on the ground.

  “For that alone, you will pay dearly,” Alerio whispered as he watched his provisions being destroyed.

  After trashing the extra grain, vegetables, and meat, the hunters moved to the center of the clearing. They kicked areas free of snow for a campfire and sleeping spaces. A short while later, wood crackled and burned but it wasn’t the lack of warmth that fueled Alerio’s anger.

  Of the grain thrown on the ground and walked over, only a small portion fell close enough to feed the horse and mule. Plus, his cooking pot lay in the snow misshapen, stomped almost flat. As an additional insult, each man held a stick with the last of Alerio’s salted venison skewed on the end and hanging over the flames. Wrapped tightly in their cloaks, one in the bear fur and wearing the petasos, the hunters laughed, told stories, and stayed warm as the meat sizzled.

  Alerio untied the material from his feet and loosened the blanket from around his midsection. The other piece came off his head and the slit blanket lifted up and over and placed on the snow. Dressed as he was when the hunters left him, the Legionary pulled the dagger and the hunting knife. Then he stalked slowly downhill towards the camp.

  This was the phase when a man dropped his guard, confident in his numbers and the support of his companions. He would stare into the flame and let his sense of smell take in the roasting meat while he pondered a good night’s sleep. None of the hunters would dream that night or ever wake again.

  ***

  Alerio crept to the edge of the trees. With the shadows getting long, his shape blended in with the foliage and he paused to see if any of the hunters had detected his movements. None had and he visualized a low box with a hunter sitting on the corners facing inward. His angle of attack was between corners number one and two.

  The Legionary rose out of his crouch. In six paces, his left arm reached out and circled the head of the first hunter. The hunting knife carved upward from the corner of the man’s mouth, along his cheek, and through his ear. As Alerio shifted away from that corner, he allowed the blade to trace a deep line across the back of the man’s skull.

  For a heartbeat, the Osci hunter’s screams blocked out a raspy voice. Then, the screams became sobs that were drowned out by Alerio’s rough singing voice.

  I got troubles on the grind

  Nails through the bottoms of my boots

  Blisters on my heels and toes

  Alerio shifted from the first to the second hunter. His dagger entered the back of the tribesman’s neck. As the Legionary stepped behind the injured man, he spun ripping the blade sideways and severing the spine.

  Plus a leg strap hath come undone

  Sergeant, Sergeant, the grind ain’t no fun

  Swung at arm’s length and propelled by the force of Alerio’s turn, the big hunting knife connected with the back of the third hunter’s skull. It peeled the scalp from back to front until the flap of hair and bleeding skin flopped over into the wounded man’s face.

  Are there not better ways to trek and bus

  Sitting a supply wagon enduring the bumps and ruts

  A terrified roar erupted from the hunter as his greasy hair blocked his vision. For a moment, the man’s bellow overcame Alerio’s vocal rendition. Then the chanting overcame the moaning.

  Braving the spit and bites from riding a mule

  Astride a stallion enjoying a nobleman’s rule

  The fourth hunter rolled away from the fire, grabbed his spear, and came up on his feet. He stood with legs braced and the spear tip pointing at the attacker.

  “It’s you, peasant,” he sneered.

  Alerio twisted around the scalped hunter to face the fourth.

  “Corporal Sisera of the Republic’s Legion,” Alerio responded. “You should have just come for breakfast.”

  “I should have just killed you when I had the chance,” the tribesman corrected. Then he jabbed out with the spear.

  Astride a stallion enjoying a nobleman’s rule

  Alerio sang as he used the hunting knife to parry the spear. As it withdrew for another thrust, the Legionary hopped forward keeping the big blade in contact with the shaft.

  Standing a chariot playing a barbarian King’s fool.

  The Osci brought the butt end around angling downward to sweep the Legionary off his feet. But Alerio dove over the racing shaft, hit the ground, and tumbled forward. He came up face to face with the tribesman.

  Sergeant, Sergeant the grind ain’t no fun.

  All that separated the hunter from the Legionary was a black hilt with a wide yellow band. Buried in the man’s chest, the two-edged blade passed between the Osci’s ribs and through his heart.

  Another boot’s strap hath come undone.

  Alerio finished the chant as he yanked the Ally of the Golden Valley dagger from the hunter’s chest. He cut the life strings of the wounded and strolled to the mule and horse.

  “I’ll tell you this, war mule,” he said to the pack a
nimal. “The problem with an evening attack. You have to spend the night with the corpses.”

  Scooping up handfuls of grain and snow, Alerio fed his animals. Then he went to each Osci and pulled them into a line at the side of the trail. Once the camp was in order, he picked up the sticks with the venison, stuck them in the fire, and while wrapped in the bearskin cloak, waited for the meat to start sizzling.

  ***

  At daybreak, Alerio used two of the hunter’s knives to shovel dirt over the bodies. Not enough soil to bury them but combined with several stones from the brook, they would be protected from wolves for a while. At least long enough for their families to collect them. As a final gesture, he pushed the ends of the spear and two of the bows into the ground to mark the spots. The last bow, Alerio shoved between the straps of the empty food bags.

  Once packed up, he led the horse and mule eastward on the trail.

  Chapter 7 – The Almost Condemned

  Three days later, cold and hungry, Alerio limped into Maleventum. The center of the town consisted of five paved streets crossing a thoroughfare leading off the Via Appia. On the corner of the first street, he took the horse and mule through the gates of a Legion post. Unlike other posthouses, here the station was part of a walled compound.

  Alerio went to the stables and dropped off the horse and war mule. Then he shuffled to the main building and the post’s offices.

  “You look all done in,” the housing NCO observed as he read the travel orders.

  “It’s only one hundred forty miles from the Capital,” Alerio responded. “I feel as if I plowed snow the entire way.”

  “We’ll get you a bed for a couple of days and you can lounge around like a civilian,” promised the Sergeant.

  “That sounds really good,” Alerio commented. “But first, I need to store my gear and speak with an officer.”

  “Decisus is our Tribune and the post commander,” the NCO informed him pointing at a hallway. “Keep it concise, stick to the basics, and don’t comment on the locals. If you know what I mean, Corporal.”

  Staff officers in charge of remote detachments seemed to be one of three general types. Competent leaders, political spiders, and those who went native. A leader relied on his Legionaries to bring him information about the surrounding population. A politician hid in his quarters writing letters trying to get out of the posting. And those who went native identified more with the locals than with his own men. From the NCO’s warning, Tribune Decisus fit somewhere between the latter two categories.

  ***

  Alerio dumped his equipment in a room but kept the heavy saddle bags on his shoulder. After exchanging the fur cloak for his red one, he walked back to the main building and took the corridor to the Tribune’s office.

  “Tribune Decisus. Corporal Sisera. I’d like a word with you,” Alerio announced from the threshold.

  “I’ll be with you shortly, Tesserarius,” a man in his mid-twenties said without looking up from the letter he was writing.

  Alerio only wanted to give the officer a report about the bandits. Afterward, he planned on finding the cook shed for a meal. Then, he would go to his room and crawl into bed. Before any of that could happen, he needed to finish with the staff officer.

  Boot leather on the tile flooring carried to Alerio. Turning, he watched as two cavalrymen enter the hallway and marched towards him.

  “Is the Tribune in?” one of them asked.

  “Yes, Optio,” Alerio replied. “He asked me to wait.”

  The Legionaries brushed by Alerio. While the Sergeant stepped into the Tribune’s officer, the other stopped in the hallway.

  “Tribune. The Samnites are arming up,” the cavalry Sergeant reported.

  “Is it an uprising? Please tell me it’s not war,” whined the Tribune.

  Alerio’s take on the housing NCO’s instructions had been correct. He’d be sure to keep his report to the Tribune short and to the point.

  “My sources tell me their warriors are looking for Hirpus’ son,” the cavalry NCO responded. “But they are forming up for a march. I don’t trust them.”

  “Who is Hirpus?” Alerio whispered to the Legionary beside him.

  “Chief of the Osci,” the cavalryman answered. “His son and a hunting party left Abellinum eight days ago. They haven’t returned and the Chief is worried.”

  While Alerio and the Legionary talked, the Sergeant had continued his report to the Tribune.

  “How do four tribesmen vanish in their own territory?” Decisus demanded in reply to a statement by the cavalry NCO.

  “That’s why I’m suspicious,” the Optio replied. “Our patrols have seen no signs of brigands or roving bands of raiders. Other than the thieving Osci themselves.”

  “As I’ve reiterated on numerous occasions, Sergeant, we have a treaty with the Samnite,” scolded the Tribune. “I will not have you disparaging an entire nation based on the failings of a few of their young men.”

  Alerio now had the Tribune pegged. The staff officer had gone native siding with the conquered people over his Legionaries.

  “Sorry about my choice of words, sir,” the Sergeant said. There was no remorse in his apology. “Orders?”

  “Get a Centurion and go find Hirpus. Tell the Chief we are at his disposal. Assure him that the Legion will help in any way we can.”

  “Shouldn’t that come from you, sir?” the Sergeant suggested.

  “No. I’ve correspondence to complete. But tell Chief Hirpus, my house and hospitality are at his disposal,” Decisus explained.

  “I’m sure he is aware,” the Sergeant stated.

  As the Optio turned to leave, Decisus called out, “Corporal, you wanted to see me?”

  The cavalryman stormed out of the office and stomped down the hallway. He didn’t bother hiding his feelings once out of sight of the Tribune.

  “Sir, I’m on a mission for Senator Spurius Carvilius Maximus,” Alerio informed the Tribune. “I just wanted to pay my respects. And let you know your Legion Post will be noted in my report to the Senator.”

  “Finally, some good news,” Decisus exclaimed. “Please give my regards to Spurius.”

  “Yes, sir,” Alerio said while ducking out of the door.

  Like the cavalry Sergeant, Alerio rushed down the hallway. His plans for a meal and a nap replaced by new tasks.

  ***

  “Which team would be better?” inquired Alerio as he walked between the corrals.

  “Horses are faster but ponies require less feed and rest,” the stable master replied. “That’s why we use horses for war chariots and ponies for couriers.”

  “And if most of the trip is at an even stride?”

  “Horses,” the master assured him. “If you aren’t pushing them, but need a burst of speed, horses win.”

  “I’ll be leaving before dawn,” Alerio informed him. “Can I get a good pair?”

  “Of course, Corporal,” the stableman assured him. “But don’t stop at the crossroads to Abellinum.”

  “Because the Osci are gathering?”

  “Not necessarily. The farming and trading village has always been trouble for lone riders,” the master remarked. “Horses, ponies, mules, and goods have a habit of disappearing in the village.”

  “Then I’ll resist the temptation to take the tour,” Alerio assured the stableman.

  With his transportation confirmed, Alerio left the stables, marched across the practice field, and entered the armory.

  “I require a shield and a javelin,” he announced while handing the armorer his letter.

  “Can’t read, sir,” the Lance Corporal told him pushing back the parchment.

  “I’m a Corporal,” Alerio corrected while pointing to the bottom of the letter. “This symbol gives me the authority of the Senate to get the equipment I need to complete my mission.”

  “Works for me, Tesserarius,” the armorer replied without even looking. “Helmet, armor, and gladius as well? If you’re going to war, you need to be
dressed for the dance.”

  “I’m trying to prevent a war,” Alerio replied. “A shield and a javelin are all I need.”

  With the shield on his left arm and the javelin held upright, Alerio hustled towards his room. Along the way, he worried about the ramifications of his actions. Based on Tribune Decisus’ mindset, the best he could expect for killing an Osci Chief’s son was a public crucifixion. The worst case was Hirpus discovering a Legion Corporal murdered his son and the Chief starting a war of retribution against the Republic.

  He didn’t lie when he told the armorer he was trying to prevent a war. Getting out of the territory unquestioned or accused would prevent a personal and, possibly, a regional conflict. With the shield and javelin, he stood a chance if accosted. At least, he’d go down fighting. And if he got away quickly, there was less chance of dying with a rooftop view on the wood.

  In his room, Alerio plucked the fourth hunter’s bow from a bundle and began snapping it over his knee. Once in sections, he pulled the hunting knife and started shaving pieces of the broken weapon and the arrows into kindling. They would have made nice trophies, but the hunting bow and arrows weren’t worth his life.

  ***

  Dawn found Alerio back on the Via Appia. This morning, unencumbered by a mule, the Legionary moved steadily over the road behind a team of horses. Immediately, he felt the tension in his thighs from standing in a chariot and developed a new appreciation for chariot couriers.

  He pulled the team off the road at the one-fifty-mile marker and let them graze. The horses didn’t need it but Alerio’s legs did. Plus, he planned to keep them as fresh as possible for when they passed through the Osci village at the crossroads.

  At the one-sixty-five-mile marker, he repeated the rest, watering, and grazing. Unsure what he would find at the village, Alerio made sure he and the team were rested enough to run or fight.

  He stuffed the fur cloak into the bottom of the chariot, slipped on his dual sword harness, loosened the strap holding the shield, and tossed the red cloak over his shoulders. Then the Legionary snapped the reins and the team pulled back onto the road.