Alerio followed the shadows of Ferox Creon and Gallus Silenus over the roof and across to the neighboring building. It was the perfect time to kill them. Except, they weren’t the ones, who needed killing.
Chapter 22 - Temple of Adiona
Ferox Creon and Gallus Silenus paused on the edge of the roof. From the street below, the scuffs of boots marching by carried to Alerio.
“Drop down. At the end of the buildings, head towards the harbor,” Silenus instructed. “Before you reach the warehouses turn left and climb the hill. Stay on the port side of the hill so the soldiers guarding the docks don’t see you. Go to the other side of the temple and wait.”
Leaving him with those directions, the Captains crawled to the edge, swung their legs around and rolled their lower bodies off the tiles. Using their fingers, they hung momentarily before dropping to the street. Then they ran into a dark alleyway and vanished.
Alerio mimicked their movements and hit the street with bent knees. At the last building, he turned right and followed the line of buildings. On his left, Messina’s defensive wall was barely visible in the starlight. Still, he could make out where it rose and fell, following the low rolling hills on the north side of the town.
A couple of blocks ahead was the wide avenue dividing the shops at the edge of Messina from the warehouses. Sprinting away from the building, Alerio reached a tree lined path that climbed a steep hill. As instructed, he stayed to the left of the trees and, instead of using the smooth path and stairs, he scrambled over rocks and through depressions to reach the top. Between the trees, he could see the harbor but couldn’t tell where the water ended, and the dark land began.
On a flat, cleared area at the top of the hill, Alerio faced a long, tall clay brick structure. Easing along the side, he worked his way to the side facing the harbor.
No wall blocked access to the interior of the building. Peering around the brick sidewall, he saw a large brazier deep inside. Far enough from the open end so rain couldn’t reach the fire burning in a shallow bronze pan. Visible in the flicker of the flames, stacks of wood and charcoal mounds occupied the back wall of the building. As a Temple, it wasn’t impressive. Edging back along the side wall, Alerio moved around to the back of the Temple and walked to the other side. In the starry night, the defensive wall appeared as a pale line passing a few paces from the toe of the hill and running to the harbor.
Alerio sat down and rested his back against the rough brick wall. So far, his mission as a spy sent to find confederates to open the harbor for the Legionaries had been a failure.
***
“Adiona is the Goddess of safe returns from voyages,” explained Milon Frigian as he walked around the Temple and sat next to the Legionary. “Adherents keep the fire burning day and night. It’s the first thing we see when we row into Messina.”
“It’s not visible from Rhégion tower,” commented Alerio. “And no offense, but it’s pretty rough and plain for a Temple.”
“Because the Temple is facing the mouth of the harbor,” Frigian informed Alerio. “If it faced east, we’d row into the hook and not the harbor. Not a pleasant ending to a trip. As for the Temple, it’s the fire that honors the Goddess, not the building.”
They sat quietly gazing at the night sky. Finally, Frigian spoke.
“Why are you in Messina, Alerio Sisera?” he asked. “I thought you were done with the Sons.”
“I’ll tell you. But first explain why Crius Nereus wants Ferox Creon and Gallus Silenus killed,” Alerio inquired. “Not just dead, but publicly murdered.”
“So that’s why you were in the Pirate’s Pride. To kill two of the Sons of Mars’ Captains,” Frigian ventured. “Creon is challenging Nereus for the leadership of the Sons and Silenus is backing him. The reason Nereus needs them murdered in public is so the killer can be caught. Of course, he’ll get a knife in the back trying to escape before he can be questioned.”
“Couldn’t Nereus have them killed in their beds?” asked Alerio. “Or in an alley?”
“If we thought Nereus or the Qart Hadasht troops had anything to do with killing a Sons’ Captain, the rest of us would row out and never come back,” Frigian explained. “No, it had to be public and the culprit captured and identified. You, Lieutenant Sisera, were a gift from the Gods to Captain Nereus.”
“A sacrificial lamb it seems,” complained Alerio. “I need the Sons to help to open the harbor and let Legionaries into Messina.”
“We begged for the Republic or the Empire to come in before the Syracuse army annihilated us,” stated Frigian. “The Empire responded. Now, the Republic wants to sneak in and battle house to house in brutal street fighting to remove the Qart Hadasht. Your Republic practices an odd form of diplomacy.”
“That’s politics. I’m only a Lance Corporal with a mission,” declared Alerio. “Will the Sons of Mars help me or not?”
“It’s actually humorous. For Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera of the Republic’s Legion, we wouldn’t do merda,” Frigian informed him. “However, Lieutenant Alerio Sisera of the Messina Militia is a different story. For the weapon’s instructor who trained our infantry and the hero of our battles against Syracuse forces, the Sons will assault the Citadel. For our Lieutenant, we’ll battle Qart Hadasht infantry and die on the slopes. Which man am I speaking with?”
“I’m only one man, Captain Frigian. But I can promise you this,” Alerio said. “If you help me bring in the Republic forces, it won’t be the Messina Militia attacking the Citadel. It’ll be the heavy infantry of the Legion. And they will turn the slopes red with Empire blood.”
“Then we need a plan, Lieutenant Sisera,” Frigian exclaimed. “Because I was only kidding about dying on the slopes.”
“Speaking of kidding, what is with the Pirate’s Den?” inquired Alerio. “Fresh goat’s milk?”
“That’s not a joke,” explained Frigian. “We are pirates and when we board a merchant ship, we don’t know what we’ll face. Between the fear, the bad water, and the rough seas, some men develop pain in their guts. It gets worse when they think about rowing out. For those men, the pub serves goat’s milk. It signifies, without them admitting it, that they are unfit for a voyage.”
“I’m glad I didn’t order the goat’s milk,” Alerio teased.
“You might need it after I tell you my plan,” suggested Frigian.
***
Crius Nereus relaxed on his patio. The night sky displayed thousands of stars. He missed the days when he captained a ship and took spoils from unsuspecting merchant vessels. Now it was cutthroat politics and defending his position as leader of the Sons of Mars from his own Captains and Admiral Hanno.
In the morning, when he was called upon to identify Sisera’s body, he’d express shock and confusion at why the Legionary would murder two of his captains. As a sort of homage to the young man, Nereus rested a hand on one of the swords he found in Alerio’s bedroll.
In all probability, the dead Captains’ crews would slay the Legionary. The coins he gave the Empire’s night watch Sergeant insured Sisera’s death. It was a small investment to secure Nereus’ future as Captain of Messina.
A scraping at the wall of his compound drew his attention. Then, a body appeared on top of the wall before it dropped into his courtyard.
“Good morning, Captain,” Alerio said from the dark.
“Alerio Sisera. Did you complete the first part of your mission?” Nereus inquired. Something in the young lad’s voice made him move his hand from the pommel of the sword to the hilt. “Now we can plan the second part. Are you injured?”
“Just my feelings and sense of honor,” replied Alerio. “I just came from the Temple of Adiona where I had an interesting conversation with Milon Frigian.”
“I take it Ferox Creon lives and you’ve thrown in with his rebellion,” accused Nereus. Then he asked, “So, what is next for us, Lieutenant Sisera?”
“You have my pack and bedroll,” Alerio informed him. “Of course, there is the problem of
your fondness for Admiral Hanno. Does it go deep enough for you to tell him about my mission?”
“No! Never would I divulge or turn you over to the Qart Hadasht soldiers,” Nereus avowed. “Come sit and enjoy the stars with me.”
Alerio took two slow steps then a sword blade slashed from the dark. Jumping back, he drew the dagger.
“You just answered your own question,” Alerio said as he countered a second slash from the sword. The short blade parried the sword and Alerio stepped forward.
Nereus realizing he missed with the surprise attacks, leaped off the patio. Figuring he needed room to chop and stab, he moved to the center of the courtyard.
“I won’t turn you over to them,” Nereus assured him. “Because once I kill you with your own sword, I’ll feed your body to the pigs. Then, I’ll find another way to dispose of Captain Creon.”
No sensible fighter liked night combat. Unless you were in physical contact, and even that was iffy, there was too much left to luck. Alerio circled to his left, picked up a clay planter, and talked as he moved.
“The Legion will come here,” Alerio said slowly so Nereus could follow the voice. “When they take Messina, you could still be Captain of the City.”
“How do you figure that?” demanded Nereus. “Come on Legionary, tell me about surviving. Or better yet, let me tell you about surviving.”
The clay planter smashed into the patio. Nereus turned to his left in the direction of the disturbance. Alerio rushed in but the Sons’ Captain was an experienced street fighter.
Nereus, his body towards the breaking planter, twisted back to swing the sword. The long blade swiped to the right cutting the air at belly height. But Alerio was already under the arc and locking his arms around Nereus’ legs. Alerio drove with his legs, lifted the pirate leader, and slammed him to the courtyard floor.
The pommel of the sword smashed into the back of Alerio’s left shoulder. Even with the breath knocked out of him, Nereus fought. His knees churning and the butt end of the sword striking again and again.
Alerio had enough. He slammed his left fist into Nereus’ chin and drove the blade of his dagger between the Captain’s ribs.
“What’s next for us, Captain Nereus?” Alerio asked as he twisted the blade. “You die and I complete my mission.”
Chapter 23 – Communicating a Simple Plan
The Sons of Mars’ bireme rounded the hook and headed south down the strait. All one hundred and twenty oars splashing in rhythm.
“Sons of Mars,” shouted the signalman from the Rhégion Tower. “Warship!”
Unlike the greeting for the Empire warship, most of the Legionaries working on the beach simply waved. No one worried the ship would land and start a battle. It was strange when the bow angled for the beach and the two tiers of rowers backed down their oars. For a moment the long ship idled in the current. Then, a package was tossed towards the shoreline and the oars stroked and the ship angled back to the center of the channel.
A Legionary splashed into the Strait, snatched the package from the water and waded back to shore.
“Sergeant Martius. Your name is on the package,” the Legionary exclaimed as he marched to the Chief of Boats. “Do you have relatives in Messina?”
“Not that I know of,” the scarred veteran admitted. “Give that to me.”
He pulled the waxed ends of the package and unfolded the oiled goatskin. The open flap exposed a piece of parchment.
Chief of Boats, this message is for Tribune Velius. To authenticate, A weapon’s instructor doesn’t need a saltwater soaked rag on his left hand, it’s better for cooling the head.
Sergeant Martius remember the first day of combat rowing class and Lance Corporal Sisera sitting with the rag on his head rather than soothing the blisters on his left hand. Seems, he already had hard skin on that hand from weapon’s drills. The Sergeant headed for the Headquarters’ building.
***
“But how do we know it’s Sisera and not a trap,” demanded Gaius Claudius. “And suppose he’s held captive and was forced to write the missive?”
“Then let’s all retreat to the Capital and we’ll let the Senate debate the issue,” suggested Tribune Velius. “Politicians are excellent at talking. Hold on. Something just occurred to me. That’s right, we are the Legion and we are bad at talking. Whatever are we going to do?”
Gaius Claudius looked confused but the Senior Centurion wasn’t. He twisted his mouth into a sneer.
“The Tribune is saying, Legionaries act on available information,” Patroclus declared. “Tomorrow night Lance Corporal Sisera and crews from the Sons of Mars will open the barricade vessels. There’s only one question we have to answer. Are we rowing over when he gives the signal?”
First Sergeants Gerontius and Brictius reached out together and smoothed the map flat. Sisera’s rough drawing showed the tip of the hook, the dock, and the warehouses. From the drawing, it appeared he could assure the dock and storage buildings would be cleared of Empire soldiers. Yet, it was only a foothold in Messina.
“We can hold the areas between the warehouses with eighty infantrymen,” Brictius announced. “Fighting our way from there will be bloody and hard work for the lads.”
“Straight up the main road to the Citadel?” asked Gerontius.
“Not a good strategy,” Tribune Velius said jumping into the discussion. “Too many side streets. You’ll have Empire troops coming from the sides and getting in behind your advancing units.”
Senior Centurion Patroclus placed the heel of his hand along the dock. As he swept it forward covering more of the town, he explained, “You’ll need to take Messina street by street maintaining a unified front. You’ll push the Qart Hadasht back to the Citadel and crush them on the slope.”
The four men turned to stare at Tribune Gaius Claudius. Ignoring them, he walked to the map. Placing a finger on the lines representing the dock, he stated, “I’ll be on the first boat.”
First Sergeant Brictius’ mouth fell open but he recovered and put on a blank face.
“Very admirable, Tribune,” offered the Senior Centurion. “But unless you’re trained to stand in a shield wall, our first units must be infantrymen.”
“But who will go in on the first wave?” inquired Claudius. “Who will command the infantry?”
“That’s my job, sir,” Brictius assured him. “I’ll be on the first boat. The Century’s Centurion will be on boat three.”
“And I’ll be on the second boat,” announced First Sergeant Gerontius.
“We have lots to do before tomorrow night,” Senior Centurion Patroclus suggested. “I want reports of units from the Southern Legion and equipment we’re sending with Tribune Claudius.”
“First Sergeant Brictius and I have a lot to accomplish before we launch as well,” Claudius stated with a nod to his First Sergeant.
Act 4
Chapter 24 - Armor, Shields and Swords
Alerio sat in a house a block from the warehouses. Lounging around him were twenty-five Sons’ of Mars and Milon Frigian.
“And you’re sure the Legionaries will come?” asked Frigian. “Because once we set this in motion, there’s no turning back.”
“I’m more worried about the first phase,” Alerio commented. The crewmen were leaning in and listening. “We’ve got to move fast and, once in position, hold until the infantry arrives.”
“We’ll hold,” Frigian assured him. Then looking around the room, he asked, “Won’t we?”
The response of “Yes, Captain” echoed around the small space.
Three raps on the door announced a visitor. Before anyone could answer, the door opened and closed quickly.
“The Sergeant of the Guard has finished his rounds,” the newly arrived sailor reported. “He’s working his way back through the western guard stations.”
“And the roving patrols?” asked Alerio.
“They’re moving counter to the Sergeant,” the sailor replied. “If they hold true to the pa
ttern, they’ll reach the base of the Citadel before starting back down. The patrol on the hook is moving towards the point.”
“Captain Frigian, are you ready for some larceny?” inquired Alerio.
“Go inform the other houses, we are moving,” Frigian ordered four of his oarsmen. Then to Alerio, he said, “Larceny is my middle name, Lieutenant Sisera.”
Twenty-one of the oarsmen began winding ropes around one hand. The four singled out by Frigian moved to the doorway and left. They were assigned to contacting the houses were the rest of the crew members were staged. Then Alerio and Milon Frigian snuck out followed by the twenty-one rowers.
One block down and across from the warehouses, Frigian selected pairs of men and sent them across the avenue. Each pair vanished down alleyways and streets between the warehouses. Ten teams had been swallowed up by the dark with no cries of alarm arising from the guards on the dock. With one rower still waiting, Frigian whispered to Alerio.
“Not too late to withdraw,” Frigian commented.
“Need a mug of fresh goat’s milk, do you?” inquired Alerio.
The sailors who had checked on the rest of the crew crowded up behind them.
“That’s the alleyway. You’re going to the third door on that building,” Frigian whispered indicating a single warehouse. “Go!”
As the five sailors raced for the street and towards the door, Frigian said, “I guess we’re committed now, Lieutenant Sisera.”
Alerio didn’t reply. He stepped around the Sons of Mars’ Captain and jogged after the entry team.
***
The door was open by the time Alerio arrived. After stepping over the threshold, he closed the door and one of the oarsmen sparked flint and a candle came to life. Its light brightened a corner of the warehouse. Soon, four more candles bent to the flame and as the wicks blazed, the lit candles moved to locations around the small section of the warehouse.
Without words, Alerio and the five oarsmen began quietly and slowly untangling armor, shields, helmets, and swords from a pile. As each piece came free, they carried them to an area with equipment in each category. After they had enough to arm twenty-six men, Alerio tapped one of the oarsmen on the shoulder. The rower moved to the doorway and slipped out.
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