Fatal Obligation

by J. Clifton Slater

  His right arm wrapped around the officer’s neck and Alerio swung around and kicked the other Legionary in the head. While Holisatri’s left side protector crumpled to the dirt, Alerio slung the Legion officer to the ground and placed the tip of his gladius on his neck.

  “Your enemy needs to be studied. But most of all, you need to follow your training. You can duck, but never allow enough space in an assault line for your enemy to attack under your shield,” Alerio exclaimed. Then, he looked down at the weapons instructor. “Any words you’d like to add, Centurion Holisatri?”

  “You want to get the blade off my throat and let me up?”

  “Forgive me, sir. It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted,” Alerio professed as he back away.

  Holisatri jumped to his feet, the gladius still in his hand, and fire burning hot in his eyes. As the Osci warriors had watched their Lieutenant, the Legionaries watched to see how their weapons instructor handled the situation.

  “Sir. I’d like to thank you for allowing me the opportunity to demonstrate the tactic,” Alerio announced. “It’s been an honor.”

  Shock and nods of understanding ran through the Centuries. The entire exhibition had been staged they believed. Still, the Corporal’s moves had been so swift and vicious, it almost seemed real. They didn’t have a clue how close the ‘demonstration’ had come to bloodshed.

  “Good work, Weapons Instructor Sisera. You are dismissed,” Holisatri announced. “I’m going to expand on the lesson.”

  “Very good, sir,” Alerio said as he saluted.

  Once he returned the armor, helmet, and gladius, Alerio marched to the chariot and drove, slowly, to the fort’s office and the desk of the housing NCO.

  Chapter 10 – A Taranto Conversation

  Long before daylight, Alerio collected his bundles, left the room, and went to the stables. Shortly after kicking a stable assistant awake, he was in a chariot heading for the post gate.

  “Getting an early start?” questioned the duty NCO.

  “I have a long way to go,” Alerio commented as the gates swung open.

  “You’ll miss morning chow.”

  “My loss,” Alerio replied as he snapped the reins sending the horses into a fast walk.

  Although he’d miss the hot meal, staying in the post with a Centurion who might harbor resentment wasn’t healthy. It might be an overreaction but a Legion officer had a lot of ways to get retribution against a Legionary who embarrassed him. Alerio would settle for being hungry over a punishment from Centurion Holisatri.

  Cool air, a bright moon, and an open road soon washed the sleep from his eyes. The chariot turned onto the Via Appia and a mile later rolled by the dark walls of Venusia.

  ***

  Where the road had been mostly empty through the mountains, on the way to Taranto the Via Appia’s commercial benefits became apparent. Traders with wagons full of goods and craftsmen offering services used it to move between villages and towns. Farmers with their winter harvest easily transported the crops to collection centers on the interlocking stones. Legion couriers and cavalry patrols moved swiftly, passing Alerio both on his side of the road and coming from the other direction. And, numerous travelers walked or rode along the hard surface. It was designed to facilitate Legions in moving quickly to areas of conflict. However, the real value to the Republic lay in the smooth flowing commerce and the taxes collected from the booming economy of the eastern region.

  Unfortunately, with wealth and prosperity came crime. On several occasions, groups of armed men standing on the side of the road attempted to wave him to a stop. They were the reason for the Legion patrols. It was also the reason Alerio didn’t reach Taranto until four and a half days after leaving Venusia. He took advantage of the posthouses placed every twenty miles, rather than pushing through and sleeping unguarded in the open or taking lodging in strange towns.

  At first, there were only roofs of tall buildings and temples visible in the distance. But the straight road soon had him in view of the port city of Taranto. Sprawling from the docks to where the Via Appia gently curved eastward, Alerio marveled at the city’s size and the congestion on the road. But he was in a Legion chariot and slower travelers pulled off onto wide areas designed for the purpose. Beyond the city and just as the road straightened, he reined in the team and pulled off the Via Appia.

  A wide thoroughfare led to the gates of a fort housing a large force of the Eastern Legion.

  “Step down and show me your military orders,” demanded an Optio while stepping out of a guard house.

  “It’s a Senatorial pass,” Alerio stated as he handed the letter to the duty NCO.

  “What is your name and rank?” inquired the Sergeant after reading the letter.

  “Alerio Sisera, Corporal,” Alerio replied. “Is there a problem?”

  “See the port city over there?” the Sergeant explained. “It’s home to almost three hundred thousand people. All kinds of people, including citizens, slaves, transients, sailors, and those in search of quick coins. Every week, we have con men, thieves, and rebels trying to get into the fort. This is where we stop them. Hold on while I log you in.”

  Alerio leaned against the chariot until the NCO reappeared.

  “See the housing officer at the visiting dignitary building,” instructed the Optio. “But don’t wear any rank insignias. Tribunes, Centurions, and politicians will complain if they know a Legionary NCO is quartered with them.”

  “All I have are civilian clothing,” Alerio informed the Sergeant. Then he asked. “But why not put me in the Legion quarters?”

  “Because I like the idea of an infantryman enjoying the good life,” the NCO said as he handed Alerio the letter. Then he pointed to a road leading along the wall of the fort.

  “How do you know I’m infantry?”

  “You don’t get scars like those driving a wagon. And brawlers don’t get commissions from a Senator. Thus, you must be Legion heavy infantry. Am I wrong?”

  “No Sergeant, you are not wrong.”

  ***

  Alerio guided the team along the edge of the practice field, around the barracks, and along the road at the wall. Behind the military buildings, he passed a Villa. It was a strange sight in a Legion post. The second story balcony was wide enough for seating and tables, and plants in clay pots hung over a ground floor porch. If located in the middle of a farm, it would mean the owner was prosperous. In a fort, it could only be the General’s quarters, Alerio thought.

  “Legionary. Where is the visiting dignitary building?” he called to a man walking on the side of the street.

  “You just passed it, sir,” the Legionary said lifting a hand and pointing at the Villa.

  “Where are the stables?”

  “They have a duty stableman at the entrance.”

  Alerio reined the team around in a half circle and walked them to the front of the Villa. As soon as the chariot stopped, three servants in clean woolens ran to greet him. One stood between the horses keeping them from moving while the other two grabbed his bundles.

  “Welcome, Master Sisera,” a man standing at the entrance greeted him.

  “You know my name?”

  “A runner from the gate gave us warning of your arrival, sir. We are preparing your room,” the man, who must be the Villa’s manager, reported. “You are invited to partake of the baths to wash off the road grime in the meanwhile. Unless of course, you require sustenance.”

  “I have valuables,” Alerio informed the manager. He lifted the heavy saddlebags and shook them. “Do you have an iron box?”

  “Sir, we have a guarded iron room,” the manager assured him. “If you’ll follow me.”

  “Then, lead on, my good fellow,” Alerio instructed.

  He hoped the tone and inflection hid his low-status accent. They walked in on decorative tiles with inlaid hunting and feasting scenes. The manager went directly to a door bound with iron bands. A Legionary in buffed armor stood guard at the door.

&nbs
p; “Your funds will be safe here, sir.”

  After placing the bags of coins on a shelf, Alerio left the room and crossed the lobby to where the men stood with his bundles. He pulled out a tunic and faced the manager.

  “Which way to the baths?”

  ***

  Late in the evening, Alerio finished a huge meal and stood from the couch.

  “I think I’ll stretch my legs,” he said to the serving girl. “Can I take the wine glass with me?”

  She giggled before replying, “There is a garden in the rear, sir. The air is fresher there.”

  “Fresher than what?”

  “The Legion post,” she answered with another giggle.

  Alerio left the private dining room with a full glass in his hand. Strolling through a hallway, he passed other private rooms on the way to a set of doors. He opened them and stepped into a garden.

  Lighted footpaths meandered through trees, ferns, and flowerbeds and, the serving girl was right, the air smelled fresh. Alerio sipped his wine and wandered under the tree limbs and the stars. After so long on the road, the little slice of paradise was a welcomed relief. But exhaustion settled on his shoulders and drew him back to the Villa.

  The twisting path turned him around and Alerio ended up on a circular walkway. In the center were thick bushes taller than a giant, and Alerio began following the curve. He wanted to see if there was anything in the center. Maybe a statue of a Goddess or a fountain. Either would be a discovery and a nice way to top off the evening. Part way around, he heard voices from the other side of the bushes.

  “The hook is set,” a man stated.

  “Will it go hard on him?” another questioned.

  “What do you care? If he used his brains for something other than being stupidly fair, we wouldn’t be here. But since you asked, he’ll be fine. He is blessed with a powerful patron.”

  “And this will work?”

  “It doesn’t matter which way he goes. The appearance of an impropriety will bring him down.”

  “And solve our patrons’ problems.”

  Alerio glanced into a lighted grotto to see two men standing and clinking glasses together. One carried heavy muscles on a broad frame and had mid-length gray hair. The other was tall and thin with bushy black hair. Not wanting to interfere with their conversation, he ducked away. After finding the correct path, Alerio strolled to the Villa and his bed.

  ***

  Late in the morning Alerio rolled out of bed and went to the baths. As he hoped, the fires were already stoked and he enjoyed a long soak.

  “I saw two men last night,” he mentioned to the attendant. “One was wide and fit with gray hair.”

  “Yes, sir. He and his traveling companion left at first light.”

  “Where are they heading?” asked Alerio.

  “I wouldn’t know, sir.”

  Alerio dried off, dressed, and went to the dining room. After ordering, he strolled into the garden and located a table surrounded by tall ferns. He ate, drank, and relaxed for the rest of the day.

  Chapter 11 – Safe Harbor at the Road’s End

  The regimented build of the Via Appia ended at a convergence of streets. Alerio pulled into the Legion posthouse and surrendered the chariot, horses, shield, and javelin. After being on a military trail for weeks, having to find a public coach to take him into the city of Brindisi proved difficult.

  Between the shipping from multiple docks along the over two miles of shoreline, the needs of business people in the center of the city, and the moving of products from craftsmen’s compounds, those in the transportation field had no need to service the outskirts of Brindisi. Or so Alerio thought.

  Although he couldn’t actually see the government buildings, he identified them by the top floor balconies, upper facades of uniform bricks, and the distinctive shape of the roof tiles. Blocks of ancient two and three-story apartments and buildings occupied the space between the Legion posthouse and the seat of Republic power in Brindisi.

  Alerio settled the petasos on his head, threw the saddlebags over a shoulder, and hoisted the bundles. Then he began walking. Like the pack mule he resembled, the overburdened Legionary marched surefootedly towards the city.

  Two blocks in, he noticed the people on the streets looking away as he passed. They were of Greek heritage and none smiled or acknowledged him. It hit him that the Brindisians didn’t care for Latians. The idea was confirmed when a wagon rolled by and, despite Alerio calling out and offering coins, the driver ignored him.

  ***

  It had only been four years since the Republic grew weary of the city changing loyalties to whatever army stepped ashore. Tributes of wine, grain, men, and materials kept the city and nearby lands safe. While the port survived, other villages, towns, and parts of the Republic were ravished by armies supplied by Brindisi.

  Consul/General Marcus Atilius Regulus was busy in the central mountains fighting the Iapygian tribes. Not wanting to break away from the tough fight to follow the Senate’s directive, he sent a Senior Tribune and four Centuries of battled-hardened heavy infantrymen to deliberate with the port city. It was a classic clash of two philosophies. One of reluctant appeasement and bargaining; the other of shields, javelins, and conquest.

  At the first show of force by the Brindisian militia, no doubt as an opening to negotiations, the Tribune ordered an assault. A great many of the citizens and soldiers of the port city died before their leaders signed a treaty, swore their allegiance to the Senate, and agreed to make Brindisi part of the Republic. Unfortunately for the Brindisian defenders, the orders to end the conflict were slow to reach the docks. Too late to stop the bloodletting by the heavy infantry.

  Obviously, four years wasn’t long enough for the memories to fade.

  ***

  Alerio stopped at the gate of the government compound, dropped his load, and started digging through his saddlebags.

  “No loitering,” the guard informed him.

  “Not loitering, Lance Corporal,” Alerio corrected him. “Just looking for my orders.”

  “Legionaries report at the other gate.”

  Alerio glanced at the wall that ran for three city blocks. Not wanting to cause any trouble, he asked, “Which way is the gate?”

  “Do I look like a Brindisian tour guide?”

  “Do I look like a man who has spent the morning lounging in the baths?” Alerio shot back. Then a thought occurred to him. “What gate is this?”

  “It’s the public gate.”

  “So, I could have just walked in?”

  “Sure. But Legionaries are to report at the north gate.”

  Alerio picked up his bundles, got them balanced, and walked through the entrance. A public forum occupied the center of the government compound. Wide, paved streets radiated out from the structure. Across the streets bordering the outdoor meeting place were new buildings. Inside the forum, rows of steps rose on three sides. The center was clear and available for citizens unable to secure a seat on the steps. Balconies on the surrounding buildings also allowed spectators to peer down on the proceedings. He didn’t have a direction and was hesitant about returning to the gate and asking the disagreeable guard. But he needed to locate Peregrinus’ office, so he turned to the gate.

  “Busy day Brindisian? Still plenty of daylight left to cheat a Latian,” the Lance Corporal called to an older Greek as he walked out of the gate. Then a young Greek strolled in and the Legionary greeted him. “Business as usual, Brindisian. Come to cut a few purses.”

  The attitude towards him by the population and the opinions expressed by the Legionary told Alerio a lot about the state of relationships between the two groups. He decided to seek help elsewhere.

  ***

  Near the entrance to the brick forum, he shifted a bundle, peered around the package, and hailed a man in a robe with silver trim.

  “Sir. Can you direct me to the offices of the Assistant Governor?”

  The man looked down his nose and examined Alerio’s
washed out and dusty woolen shirt and trousers. Then, he studied the scuffed and dirty hobnailed boots.

  “Legionaries are to report to the barracks,” he advised before starting to walk off.

  “Is everyone here rude and self-absorbed?” questioned Alerio. “Or is this my lucky day?”

  “If you aren’t a Legionary, based on your manner of dress, you must be an indentured servant or a freedman,” the snooty Latian exclaimed. “Go about your work and leave an honest citizen to his business.”

  “Citizen!” Alerio barked. “I too am a citizen of the Republic. As such, I may just thrash you and we can see which of us has the more powerful patron.”

  Alerio had no idea who the man was, or if using Senator Spurius Maximus’ name, or his association with Assistant Governor Peregrinus would keep him out of trouble. But he’d grown impatient with everyone.

  “The Governor’s offices are behind the forum,” the man told him before going off in a huff.

  “Thank you, citizen,” Alerio called as the man scurried away.

  He followed the street that traveled beneath the outer wall of the forum. On the other side of the wall were steps for the population to witness public debates, trials, and government announcements. To the rear of the forum, he located an impressive all brick building with a wide entrance at street level. One floor above him, a narrow bridge connected the brick building with the rear of the forum. If nothing else, Alerio was sure he found the most official building in the compound. He just wasn’t sure if the Assistant Governor worked there.

  ***

  “Magistrate Armenius Peregrinus is in residence,” the Tribune assured him. Then, after running his eyes over Alerio’s rough clothing, inquired. “Do you have an appointment?”

  The staff officer had watched the man toting bundles with a sagging saddlebag over one shoulder, cross the foyer to his desk. He disproved of the man’s lack of civilized dress while attending the governor’s building. Not sure of the purpose of the visit, he refrained from voicing an opinion.