After relieving his bladder, Alerio stepped on the raised seat and peered through a crack in the rough boards. Soldiers wandered between buildings, some armored and some not. It was a typical day at a military post and, despite the Legion encampment outside their gates, no one seemed to be in a rush. He was about to climb down when the figure of a man standing in a doorway caught his eye. Although the man had his back to the Corporal and stood out of the sunlight, there was something familiar about him. When the shape moved deeper into the room and out of view, Alerio stepped down. Outside he found a water barrel and washed his hands. Then, he entered the building and walked down the hallway to the great room and the long table.
***
Roasted bull ribs on platters had been delivered along with bread, bowls of fruit and olives. It seemed the leadership wanted to prove how prosperous Echetla was to their guests.
“I am Basil, Magistrate of Echetla,” said a man whose short body carried layers of fat. “We’ve been expecting you, Tribune Claudius.”
“Me, sir?” inquired Gaius.
“Well, not you specifically,” Basil replied. “Just someone of importance from the Republic’s Legion.”
Alerio heard the exchange as he approached the table but his mind was on the shadowy figure in the doorway. Automatically, he walked up and stood a respectful distance behind the Senior Tribune’s chair.
“Captain Sisera. Are you still unwell?” Ezio questioned.
“I’m better, Sub Commander,” Alerio said realizing he had assumed his bodyguard position. Quickly, he moved to take a seat on the other side of Gaius from Castor. “Thank you for asking.”
Two of the other men from the highbacked chairs arrived and as they took seats, they introduced themselves.
“Tektōn Adrian, I’m the commerce advisor to the Magistrate,” one exclaimed as he sat and picked up a long meaty rib bone. “How does a military presence concern trade?”
“The Republic is keen on opening trade routes with valuable partners,” Gaius assured Adrian. “Castor Ireneus and I are from trading families. While currently serving in the Legion, our hearts and purses are always concerned with business.”
“My kind of men,” Adrian said as he took a bite of the meat.
“I am Demagogue Nicos, advisor for the citizens of Echetla,” Nicos explained. “How could a partnership with the Republic serve the people of Echetla?”
“Beyond the goods and services, we can discuss travel to the Republic,” Gaius stated. “Safe passage and the security of having a strong neighbor.”
Castor grew bored with the diplomatic chatter and, as all growing lads do when idle, he wolfed down an enormous number of ribs. The bones were stacking up quickly beside his plate.
“Strong neighbors?” Ezio injected. “We have strong neighbors. And it’s why we have so many men under arms. How is the Republic’s Legion any different than the threat we face from Syracuse or Qart Hadasht?”
“The Republic maintains a strong home guard,” Gaius informed the Sub Commander. “Our presence on Sicilia was forced on us when Qart Hadasht forces moved into Messina. We couldn’t allow a hostile base just across the Strait from our territory. As far as I know, we have no designs on expanding the Republic.”
“Then how do you explain the attack on Syracuse?” demanded Basil.
Everyone at the table tensed at the obvious challenge. From simple questions, the conversation had shifted to hard reality.
“We have issues with King Hiero blockading our ships,” Gaius began when a loud burp from Castor broke his chain of thought.
In the momentary silence, the Junior Tribune threw down a rib bone and blurted out his own thoughts.
“Enough of this idle chatter,” Castor announced. “Come on Gaius. Simply bribe these cūlus hill folks and let’s get back to the Legion and the fighting. General Caudex can come back for them later.”
“And the true nature of your visit is revealed,” Magistrate Basil declared. “Ezio, if you would?”
“Guards,” the Sub Commander shouted, and spearmen came through the front doors and down the hallway. “Finally, I was afraid we would never get to the fighting.”
Alerio dropped a hand to his gladius and started to stand. But Gaius rested a hand on his arm to still the bodyguard.
“Too many to fight, Sisera,” the Senior Tribune warned. “Let’s see how this plays out.”
Spear tips aimed at the Legionaries’ heads allowed no room to set up a counterattack, so the Corporal did as he was instructed. Then a familiar voice, gloating and sneering from behind, reach the table.
“Wise move and a good choice, Magistrate,” Macario Hicetus said as he swaggered around the table. “Senior Tribune Claudius, we meet again. Under different circumstances.”
“You’re looking fit, Lieutenant Hicetus,” Gaius greeted the Syracusan. “I take it King Hiero’s advisers devised this side trip to keep you away from the King.”
“Not at all, Tribune. I was honored to be chosen to lead a delegation to our allies,” Macario said with a bow in Basil’s direction. “And who better to warn the council about the treachery and greed of the Republic than from someone who has suffered under your boot’s heel.”
The Senior Tribune studied the council members and the armed men.
“Now that we know your game,” Gaius inquired. “What’s going to happen to my advisers and me?”
“I’m buying you from Echetla. Because noblemen can be ransomed, if they live,” Macario explained while looking at Castor Ireneus. Then a huge smile crossed Macario’s face when he saw Alerio. “Lance Corporal Sisera?”
“Lieutenant Hicetus. Good to see you again, sir,” Alerio said nicely because his mother had taught him there was always time for good manners. Although she couldn’t have imagined being nice to someone who had murder in their eyes.
“And for those with no value, I’ll still pay,” Macario announced. “How are you feeling Sisera? Have you healed from the lashes?”
“I still suffer from back spasms, Lieutenant,” Alerio lied. “But I manage to get around. Is it a long journey to Syracuse?”
“Not to worry, Lance Corporal Sisera,” exclaimed Macario. “The Tribunes will make the trip in relative comfort. You will not be coming with us. My soldiers burn for revenge after Messina. Legionary blood is just the tonic they need.”
“What about the men in my encampment?” asked Gaius.
Macario looked at Ezio and smiled.
“Sub Commander, I have placed my men and me under your command,” he stated. “I defer to your judgment.”
“Very good, Lieutenant. In the morning, Tribune Claudius, the forces of Echetla and Syracuse will sweep your Legionaries from our plain,” described Ezio. “It’ll be a good fight.”
“Hopefully, enough will live, Sub Commander,” Tektōn Adrian added. “We are in need of replacement slaves for our silver and copper mines.”
“We’ll do the best we can,” promised Ezio. “But in the heat of battle, who really knows.”
“We need to interview Tribunes Claudius and Ireneus to establish their worth,” announced Magistrate Basil. “What do you want to do with Sisera, Lieutenant Hicetus?”
“Unfortunately, most of my troop are off scouting the Legion’s backtrail,” Macario replied. “I wouldn’t want to deprive them of participating in the execution. Have you a holding room where I can keep him until the morning?”
“The doors near the end of the hallway are solid,” Ezio answered. “And can be barred from the outside.”
“Lance Corporal Sisera. Kindly place your blades on the table before you stand,” Macario instructed.
“Yes, sir,” Alerio replied. He eased his gladius out of the scabbard and placed it on the table. Then, he reached across his body to pull a Legion dagger from the other hip. As he twisted, he gave a yelp of pain. “I apologize for the outburst.”
“The Lance Corporal recently ran afoul of the regulations and was severely whipped,” explained Macario cheeri
ly. “Come Sisera. Perhaps stretching out on a hard, stone floor will ease the pain.”
Alerio slowly pushed out of the chair. Before he could stand erect, he doubled over in pain. His legs gave out and he fell against Gaius’ back. Stumbling further, Alerio dropped to his knees between the two Tribunes. His elbows, obviously the only thing supporting his weight, rested on the tabletop.
“I’ve failed you, sir,” he mumbled to Gaius.
Resting a hand on the Legionaries back, Gaius bent over Alerio and replied, “No Corporal Sisera. It is I who have failed you.”
“How touching?” commented Macario. “Can someone please get him out of here so we can get on with this?”
Two soldiers grabbed Alerio’s arms and pulled him off the table. With his heels dragging on the floor, they carried him down the hall. Still doubled over and groaning.
Chapter 23 - The Bones of a Plan
As the two soldiers pulled Alerio towards the empty storage room, he moaned, twitched, let his urine leave a trail on the floor and spit run freely down his chin. None of these were signs of a back injury but, they were symptoms of some illness.
His escorts didn’t know what was wrong with him. Rather than deal with a sick man, any more than was necessary, they dropped the Legionary on the stone floor and fled the room. They were so disgusted, the soldiers left him in his leather cavalry armor and riding boots. Once the pole rattled in the brackets securing the door, Alerio uncurled his body.
Clutched in his fists were the treasures he appropriated from beside Castor’s plate: two bovine ribs about the size of Legion daggers. And to his delight, Tribune Ireneus had left meat on the bones.
Alerio started to sit up, but something under the right shoulder of his armor poked him in the neck. Reaching up, he located the source and extracted it. Senior Tribune Claudius had stuffed a third rib under the armor as they talked. Alerio wasn’t sure if the Tribune was attempting to arm him or feed him, because this rib was heavy with meat. Alerio scooted back against the rock wall. Then, he began chewing the meat and gnawing the gristle from the thick bones.
As he dined, he studied the sturdy door. Constructed of thick planks, it fit snuggly on the sides. At the top, a large gap provided weak illumination to the room and space to remove the door. The gap allowed the pins on the door to be set in the pintle hinges attached to the frame. If he could shift the door up and dislodge the pole from across the brackets, before the guard hacked off his hand, he could get out. However, only a finger’s width gap ran along the bottom of the door.
After thoroughly cleaning the bones and licking his fingers, Alerio held one bone in each hand. Reaching back to the rough stone wall, he began scraping sharp points out of the ends.
Dinner and daggers, he thought. Now all he had to do was get through the door, overcome the guards, locate the Tribunes, spirit them out of a strange city and warn the detachment before daylight. He would prefer anchoring a shield wall against a hoard of murderous barbarians.
***
Based on the fading light, the sun was setting. Hearing noises outside his cell, Alerio crawled to the door and listened through the gap.
“A room with a bed would be preferable,” Castor Ireneus explained. “We discussed my value to my father. It should rate me a bed.”
“Sorry Lad, I don’t have the manpower to guard you,” Macario Hicetus replied. “And I’m not going to chase you around Echetla if you decide to go gallivanting about the city. Get in the storage room. You, as well, Senior Tribune.”
“What have you done with Corporal Sisera?” Gaius demanded. “Get your hands off the lad.”
Claudius grunted, his boots scraped on the stone floor before the sound of his body armor hitting the stone floor reached Alerio. Placing his cheek on the stones, the Corporal attempted to see under the door and into the other storage room. His view was limited to a hand’s width of the hallway. The rattle of a pole dropping into the wide brackets told him Macario had barred the Tribunes’ cell door.
Alerio shoved back from the gap and relaxed a little. At least he knew where the Tribunes were being held. They were across the hall but that meant the guard or guards would be stationed right outside his door. Rolling over on his back, Alerio closed his eyes and visualized all the things that could go wrong with his plan.
***
The natural light had faded. But flickering candlelight cast a narrow bright strip under Alerio’s cell door. Then voices carried to the Corporal.
“I’m taking the troop into the city for the festival,” Macario Hicetus’ voice floated into the cell from the hallway. “Your only job is to be sure no one opens either door. Those two in there are valuable. The other one, well, we’ll be using him for spear practice in the morning.”
“I thought we were joining the Echetla companies for the attack in the morning, Lieutenant,” a gruff voice ventured.
“Sub Commander Ezio is hot to take on the Legionaries,” explained Macario. “We’ll let his men cross the trench and break down the pickets. After his soldiers are hacked up, we’ll march in and save the day.”
“He really doesn’t have a clue about them,” offered the guard. “Shouldn’t you warn the Sub Commander. We learned a lot at Messina.”
“One day, we may need to march on Echetla,” explained the Syracusan cavalry officer. “If the Republic removes some of Echetla’s veterans, who am I to complain. So, relax. In the morning, you’ll be the only sober soldier on the field.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of Lieutenant,” the guard replied. “But, you can count on me, sir. Your prisoners will be here in the morning.”
“Good man,” Macario exclaimed as the sound of his boots on the stone floor faded.
***
The rear door slammed shut and the guard exhaled. Grunting as he lowered himself to the floor, he leaned against the wall settling in for a long night. He closed his eyes and began snoring softly.
“If I had some water,” a grating voice sang from inside the condemned man’s cell.
“You in there, shut up,” the Syracusan soldier growled.
There were a few moments of silence and the guard settled back. Then the caustic voice started up again. His voice coming clearly through the gap near the floor.
If I had some water
Goats milk, you would serve me?
I would churn butter
Make cheese from curd and whey
The kid’s milk stolen from a doe
Red wine, you would serve me?
I would feel better
Drink it to waste away the day
The vino from a grape grotto
But, if I had some water
I’d cool my neck
Clean my clothes
Wash my toes
Sprinkle a rose
And quench my thirst
If I had some water
“I told you to shut up,” ordered the guard. “I’m not getting you water. Now go to sleep and leave me in peace.”
But, if I had some water
I’d cool my neck
Clean my clothes
Wash my toes
Sprinkle a rose
And quench my thirst
If I had some water
The soldier scowled at the gap then spit. A glob hit the door, dripped down and plopped onto the stone.
Olive oil, you would serve me?
I would grease a wheel
Dip and soak it up with bread
The rich oil from an olive pressed
Honey, you would serve me?
I would add it to a meal
Eat the comb’s delicious spread
The sweet of the honeybees’ nest
But, if I had some water
I’d cool my neck
Clean my clothes
Wash my toes
Sprinkle a rose
And quench my thirst
If I had some water
Gritting his teeth, the soldier climbed to his feet and drew his sword. Bending down,
he judged where the voice was behind the door and rammed the length of the blade through the gap. What difference would it make if the Legionary was injured? He could die as easily hurt as being thirsty.
***
Bent double so his voice projected under the door, Alerio held the ends of his gladius belt. On the floor, the looped end lay flat on the stone. When the soldier’s blade poked through the gap, he jerked the belt, trapping the blade. Using two hands, he pulled up hard. A slight bend held the sword against the bottom of the door and, with the upward pressure, the door lifted. Both pins in the pintle hinges separated from their bases, leaving the door hanging by the slack pole in the outside brackets.
Alerio dropped the belt, grasped the edge and opened the door as far as it would go. With the third bovine rib held between the fingers of his right hand, he reached out and knocked the pole free from one bracket. The end of the pole fell to the floor allowing the door to open a little wider.
At this point, Alerio’s mind screamed at him to stop. The plan was flawed. The soldier stood on the other side of the door ready to hack into his wrist and remove his hand. But he was slated for an agonizing death in the morning anyway. At least he wouldn’t live long enough to miss the hand. Besides, the Tribunes needed to escape and warn the Legionaries. Biting the inside of his lip, Alerio shoved his arm through the crack in the door and grabbed the pole.
His arm shot straight up to the top of the doorframe. A jolt took the pole from Alerio’s hand as the guard’s blade chopped into the wood. With the door free, the Corporal pulled it back, released the weight and it thumped against the stone floor of his cell. Then, he stepped to the side and stood in the darkness. What light there was in the hallway barely penetrated the storage room.
“Cute trick. That took some cōleī,” the soldier admitted. “But you’re still in the room and you’ll need to get by my sword to get out.”
“Why don’t you come in and get me?” asked Alerio. “Better yet, go get some help.”
“I’m not going anywhere and neither are you,” the guard advised. “Let’s make this easy. Show yourself and I won’t hurt you too much.”
Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 2 Page 65
