Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 2

by J. Clifton Slater

  “What about handles?” Alerio inquired while pointing to the bare hilts.

  “We’ll keep them simple. No big pommels as I don’t think you’ll be fighting in a shield wall,” Tomas informed him. “If you do end up in a blood bath, grip them tighter. Because you won’t have a ball on the end to keep your hands from slipping.”

  “Will they fit my rig?” Alerio asked.

  “You’re supposed to be sneaking and peeking. Wear a sword fighter’s harness and you’ll have eyes on you everywhere you go,” Tomas explained. “I have a better idea. Now, get out of my shop so we can get some work done. Come back at first light.”

  “Thank you, Master Kellerian,” Alerio said as he headed for the door of the shop.

  Chapter – 25 The Clay Ear

  “That’s a pretty cap you have there,” Thomasious Harricus said as Alerio opened the front door and stepped into the Chronicles Humanum Inn.

  “They call it a petasos,” Alerio stated while crossing the great room to reach the granite counter.

  “Do they now?” teased the Innkeeper. “What did you learn at the Senate?”

  “Senator Caudex was nominated first,” reported Alerio.

  “How did Maximus allow that to happen?” Harricus asked more to himself than to Alerio. “When is Caudex holding the big party to woo the citizens?”

  “In two days. But I believe Senator Flaccus stole his thunder when he announced the formation of a Legion to march north,” Alerio added. “Senator Maximus staged the nomination, the announcement of Flaccus Legion, and the promotion of my Tribune to a post with the eastern province’s governor. He played a masterful game.”

  “That sounds more like the old war dog,” the Innkeeper stated. “I bet Consul Caudex is chewing clay bricks at having his chance for fame taken by the other Consul getting a Generalship.”

  “Is fame important to him?” inquired Alerio.

  “Consul Caudex is a man who believes he has a destiny,” Thomasious Harricus responded. “Building out the city should have been his benchmark project and his legacy. The Consul who almost doubled the size of the Capital. It does have a nice ring to it. I imagine you’ll be marching north with Flaccus Legion?”

  “No, I’ve been recalled to the Southern Legion,” Alerio told him. “But I don’t leave until afternoon tomorrow. So, I have time for a mug of vino.”

  Chapter – 26 Qart Hadasht Swords

  In the morning, Alerio ate with the Innkeeper before shouldering his pack and marching to the Historia Fae. Although the sun lightened the eastern sky, there were shadows at street level. He rapped loudly. Surprisingly, the Armorer unbolted the security bars immediately and opened the door.

  “Can’t sleep?” Alerio asked as he stepped over the threshold.

  “Excited for you to try the Qart Hadasht swords,” Tomas Kellerian explained. “They’re on the workbench in the back.”

  After the Armorer finished latching the door, they walked to the assembly room.

  ***

  The workbench held several pieces of steel for armor, leather straps to mount the pieces, squares of felt to protect the buyer’s skin from the straps of the armor and a bedroll. It was a nicely done bedroll with a leather tie buckled around one end, a leather cap sealing the other end and a shoulder strap for carrying it. But in all the searching, Alerio couldn’t locate a pair of swords.

  “I don’t see them,” Alerio confessed.

  “You don’t?” inquired Thomas. He snatched the bedroll off the bench and headed for the backdoor. “Let’s go check outside.”

  ***

  The sunlight had yet to reach the armorer’s compound, but it wasn’t necessary. Around an open space between the workstations, braziers burned. Their light illuminating a circle and four straw-figures. Thomas’ crew of former Legionaries sat on barrels beyond the light. They were eating from clay bowls and watching Alerio closely as he emerged from the building.

  “The Centurion said you are a weapon’s instructor,” Corporal Gilibertus called out. “Time for a class, Lance Corporal Sisera.”

  Some of the other craftsmen mumbled agreement between mouthfuls of Legion mush. A porridge made from whatever grain was most plentiful and whatever flavoring was handy.

  “I can demonstrate with my bare hands,” Alerio replied as he slipped the pack off his shoulder and the petasos from his head. He sat the hat on the pack and continued. “But the best I’ll do to your straw barbarians is dent them.”

  Alerio indicated the four, full sized straw men standing in the circle of barrels.

  “Here, try this,” Thomas suggested as he tossed the bedroll to Alerio.

  Catching it in one hand, he almost dropped it. Where he expected only the weight of a wool blanket and an oiled waterproof wrap in the bedroll, it was far heavier. Alerio turned the bedroll and noticed two leather flaps on the uncapped end. He pulled the flaps and saw two bone knuckles nestled in the folds.

  “I seem to have missed these at first glance,” Alerio admitted. He pulled on the bone pommels and two swords emerged from the end of the bedroll.

  The blades were shorter than a gladius, but the leather braided bone hilts were longer. Overall, the extra length of the handles gave them a longer reach than the Legion gladius. The top of the blade ran straight to a point while the underside tapered from a wide top into a narrow belly. Unlike the gladius, only one side had a cutting edge and the point was sharpened.

  “These are beautiful,” exclaimed Alerio as he rested the bedroll beside the pack.

  Swinging the swords so the blades crossed, he whipped them back and out as far as his arms could reach. Standing with the swords parallel to the ground at shoulder height, he looked from one craftsman to the other and nodded.

  “Corporal Gilibertus, what’s in the morning mush?” Alerio asked still standing as if he were crucified.

  “Boiled oats and honey,” boasted the former Legion NCO.

  “Honey from the Golden Valley?” inquired Alerio. He began to make small circles with the tips of the swords.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. We just opened the amphora and the honey is fresh,” Gilibertus replied.

  “Fill a mug with honey,” Alerio instructed. “And we’ll see if the weapon’s class is worthy.”

  Suddenly, bowls of mush were set down and coin purses appeared. Gilibertus tossed a coin on a pile and reached back. Turning around, he held up a small amphora of honey and a clay mug.

  “Too small?” Gilibertus asked with a smile. “I can find a bigger mug.”

  Alerio stared at the mug as if he were contemplating the offer. The small circling of the sword tips became larger and he looked at Thomas.

  “Armorer. Please put a mark on the mug,” Alerio instructed as he swung the swords in bigger circles that engaged his shoulders. “About half way from the top.”

  More coins hit the piles as the Armorer pulled a knife and etched a deep scratch in the fired hardened clay. Holding up the mug, he showed the craftsmen the line. Then, he pulled out a coin and dropped it on one of the piles. All the bets were in the two piles and the craftsmen sat back to watch.

  “Corporal Gilibertus. Fill the mug with honey,” Alerio explained. “On your count.”

  Gilibertus tilted the amphora of honey over the empty mug and said, “Three. Two. One. Vade.”

  At the word vade, honey dribbled from the mouth of the amphora and Alerio leaped.

  Still swinging the swords, he landed between the first two straw figures. Then he hopped across the circle, leaned out, and chopped another one in the midsection. Without pausing, he twirled around backwards and split the fourth strawman’s head in two.

  Spinning back, he hacked with both swords and split the fourth straw figure in half. As the upper half toppled, he ran to the third and completed chopping through its middle. Before the top could fall, he swung and severed the straw head.

  Instead of turning around, Alerio dropped to his back, somersaulted across the circle and twisted as he rose to his fe
et. One sword snaked out and cleaved through one straw middle while the other angled downward to completely sever the last strawman’s torso. Both tops fell to the ground.

  Alerio held up the swords and bowed.

  “Time,” shouted Tomas.

  Gilibertus jerked the amphora upright and away from the mug stopping the flow of honey.

  “He left the heads on two of them,” one of the craftsmen challenged.

  Alerio glance behind him and back at the man.

  “Sorry,” he said as he walked to the straw torsos. With a flick of his swords’ tips, he cut the last two straw pieces holding the heads in place. Both straw heads rolled away from the now headless torsos. “Better?” he asked.

  Thomas strolled over and took the mug from Gilibertus.

  The former Corporal had been so busy watching the lighting quick attacks by Alerio, he’d neglected to watch the mug. When a couple of craftsmen shot him questioning looks, he held up his hands to show he had no knowledge of how much honey was in the mug.

  “Besides the mug, was the weapon’s class informative?” asked Alerio.

  “Finest I’ve ever seen, weapon’s instructor,” admitted Gilibertus. “And with swords strange to your hands.”

  “The long handles remind me of the sickles we use to harvest grain on my father’s farm,” explained Alerio. “And, they are well balanced. Thank you for that.”

  The Armorer pulled his knife and placed the blade against the mug. First above the marked line, then below it. He seemed to be having an issue deciding where to mark the honey fill. Finally, he smiled and ran the blade along the original line.

  “The honey is exactly at the marked line,” Tomas announced while handing the mug to a craftsman to pass around for inspection. A few groans came from the former Legionaries.

  ***

  “Lance Corporal Sisera. Unbuckle it and roll out the bedroll,” Thomas ordered. “Let me show you what my team did for your swords.”

  With the end cap removed and the other end unbuckled, the blanket and a waterproof cover rolled out to reveal two leather sheathes sewn into the blanket.

  “With the swords removed, the sheaths make a nice pillow,” Gilibertus explained as he walked up and dropped a fist full of coins into Tomas’ hand.

  The Armorer glanced down at the coins, “I warned you he was a weapon’s instructor.”

  “You said weapon’s instructor with a wink,” Gilibertus complained. “You didn’t say anything about him being a weapon’s master.”

  “I had to find a way to pay for the Golden Valley honey,” the Armorer replied while jingling the coins in his hand. “This should about cover the cost.”

  Alerio inserted the swords in the sheaths and rolled up the blanket and cover. Once the end cap was on and the buckles fastened, he slung the strap over his shoulder. Next came the pack and finally the petasos, which he cocked at a jaunty angle.

  “Master Harricus. Thank you for the custom work,” Alerio said. “What do I owe you?”

  “Let me see. Two rusty gladii, two scrap pieces of leather, two rusty buckles,” the Armorer listed. “A good quality wool blanket, a fine goatskin rain cover and an exquisite beaver felt hat. I’m thinking two gold. Got to cover the cost of feeding my lads.”

  “But, that’s not enough,” exclaimed Alerio.

  “I served with the Eastern Legion,” Gilibertus added. “Master Kellerian explained where you got the beauty marks on your head and your forearm. The rest of the craftsmen and I talked it over. Two gold is fair for a man who killed an eastern rebel leader.”

  “Now, pay up and begone,” the Armorer ordered. “This is a business, not a social club. And the rest of you. Don’t the rest of you have projects? If you don’t, I’ll find something for you to do.”

  Chapter – 27 Sicilia and Syracuse

  Around midday, Tribune Velius stepped from a carriage onto the bricks bordering the dock. The driver handed him a travel bag and the head of Planning and Strategies for the Southern Legion walked around the carriage. As the old Staff officer strolled towards the Tiber river, he had a good view of the busy port.

  Three gourd-shaped Corbita merchant ships occupied one end of the pier. Two were being unloaded and one was taking on cargo. Five flat barges from upriver unloaded grain, furs, and minerals. Slaves, freemen, sailors, citizens, and foreigners pushed, pulled or toted the merchandise. While the rounded Corbitas were eight feet in height, the thirty-man, single banked Legion patrol boat, at three and a half feet in height, bobbed on the river below the pier.

  Tribune Velius couldn’t see the patrol boat at first. It wasn’t until he was almost to Lance Corporal Sisera, at the edge of the dock, when he got a look at the Legion boat.

  “Where’s the crew?” Velius asked while looking around Alerio and down at the sixty-five-foot patrol boat.

  “Over by the warehouse, eating,” Alerio reported. “I imagine, Tribune, they’re waiting for the dispatches and tide at the mouth of the Tiber.”

  Velius studied the Legionary. He wore a light brown beaver felt petasos and well-used woolen tunic and pants. Over his shoulder were slung a bedroll and a pack. With no weapons in sight, the Lance Corporal had obviously decided to go unarmed.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t strap on a gladius,” the Tribune teased. “Hopefully you have a dagger stashed somewhere.”

  “It wouldn’t be very spy like to walk around wearing a Legion gladius,” Alerio replied. “Why are you sending me to Syracuse, sir?”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get to visit your family,” Velius offered as a delaying tactic while he gathered his thoughts.

  “You gave me the opportunity. It was the Etruscī and Insubri who pulled the lynch pins making the wheels fall off of my vacation,” Alerio responded. “Sicilia? Syracuse?”

  “It has more to do with the Sons of Mars in Messina,” the Tribune described. “They’ve been pirating ships from Syracuse and other city states. That alone would draw the attention of Syracuse. However, they’ve added overland raids along the east coast of Sicilia. So, they poked the bee’s nest and now that the bees threaten to swarm, the Sons of Mars petitioned the Senate for protection.”

  “Excuse me Tribune, but that seems to be a political issue,” ventured Alerio. “Why would the Southern Legion be interested in war between Messina and Syracuse?”

  “Normally it wouldn’t unless one of them crossed the Messina Strait and attacked Republic territory,” Tribune Velius explained. “But the Sons of Mars have also petitioned the Qart Hadasht Empire for help. If the Empire moves forces into Messina, they’ll be an arrow’s flight from the Republic and the Southern Legion.”

  “That’s uncomfortably close,” Alerio pointed out. “Why doesn’t the Senate send a Legion to Messina. Just the presence of our heavy infantry would prevent Syracuse from attacking and prevent the need for Qart Hadasht to interfere.”

  “Budget, Lance Corporal Sisera,” Velius clarified. “Between the cost of Gurges Legion, Flaccus Legion and the public works for expanding the Capital, the Republic is short of funds.”

  “On a farm, you plant, grow, and sell your crops,” Alerio said. “If you come up short one year, you make a deal with vendors for some coin or credit to tide you over until next year’s crop.”

  “That is an excellent description,” complimented Velius. “Now suppose you’ve borrowed two years in a row plus committed to more expenses. What would you owe?”

  “You’d have bet the farm,” answered Alerio.

  “Exactly. The Senate has bet the Republic,” Velius replied. “They don’t have the funds to send a Legion to defend the Sons of Mars. Or the will, considering the Sons are pirates and thieves.”

  “I’m going to Syracuse to evaluate if they are preparing for war?” guessed Alerio.

  “There, you’ve answered your own question,” stated the old Tribune.

  Act 5

  Chapter – 28 Syracuse Harbor

  The heavily loaded transport had sailed from Rhégion be
fore dawn. Catching Scendente, the Messenia current when it changed to a southern direction, the crew paddled just enough to keep the vessel in the center of the strait. By sunrise, however, they’d reached open water and the boat fought a mild headwind. They rowed to within sight of the coastline and exchanged the headwind for a steady breeze off the starboard side. Their Captain ordered the sail raised, but the crew continued to row. While Mount Etna had been visible since light touched the top of the volcano, the green grass, and trees of Sicilia weren’t distinguishable until sunlight touched the shore. When the sea level air warmed, the cool air from the mountain flowed down and gave them a favorable wind from the stern. They shipped oars and let the sail carry them south.

  Alerio could see why their Captain maintained a distance from the land. Boulders, some above the water line in the shallows, and more below waited to rip open the hull if the transport ventured too near. Further along the coast, the waters deepened but the land rose in jagged cliffs of sharp black rock. Dangerously marred with crevasses, caves, and ravines, the shore offered no port for a vessel.

  It wasn’t until the sun was high in the sky that the shoreline receded and a rocky beach came into view. The crew rolled the sail, grabbed oars, and rowed towards land.

  “Hold water,” shouted the captain. With the four oars motionless in the waters of the Messina Strait, the transport nudged gently against the beach.

  The crew and Alerio hoisted amphorae of olive oil, wine and bundles of cloth from the belly of the Corbita. Down a narrow ramp and across the gravel of the beach, they carried the containers to where the captain stood with traders from Catania. There, merchandise was exchanged for gold and silver coins. The Captain spent a long time visiting with his customers while the crew and Alerio ate a meal and rested. After the Captain finished, the crew pushed the transport off the rocks and back into the sea.