Under the influence of the memory, the Legion officer’s breathing calmed, and his mind settled.
Once the steed had enough to drink, Alerio tossed the bucket in the direction of the barrel and mounted the beast. After a shiver to test the tension in its rider, the stallion picked up Alerio’s tranquility and relaxed. A heartbeat later, man and horse trotted away from the supply depot.
Alerio neither rushed Phobos nor reined him in. Rather he allowed the animal to move at a steady pace towards the Consuls’ headquarters. Senior Tribune Sisera could have delayed the retribution, but honor demanded the killing take place before sunrise.
***
The sentry at post three of the perimeter defense was a block from the headquarters structure. As a veteran infantryman, he was tough and resilient, and understood the role of First Century. Protect the Consuls and the Battle Commander of Regulus Legion East. When the horse came out of the dark, he lowered his spear.
“Halt. What’s your business?” the veteran Legionary demanded.
“Senior Tribune Sisera,” Alerio replied. “I will see First Centurion Calpar.”
“Sir, Longus Legion North is not on duty tonight,” the sentry explained. “I’m sure the Centurion will be available in the morning.”
“If I wanted to see the cūlus in the morning,” Alerio cursed, “I would have slept in and had a leisurely breakfast. But I didn’t. Does that tell you something?”
“Sergeant of the Guard, guard post three,” the Legendary shouted.
As a veteran, he knew better than to argue with a senior staff officer or to answer a redundant question.
Alerio sat on Phobos and waited. He knew brow beating a sentry had little value. Moments later, a First Century NCO and five Legionaries raced from the dark.
“The Senior Tribune wants to see Centurion Calpar,” the sentry informed his Sergeant.
“Well, did you tell him Longus North didn’t have the duty tonight?” the NCO grilled the sentry.
The guard tilted his head in Alerio’s direction, shouldered his spear, and walked backwards to his sentry post. Leaving, both figuratively and literally, the problem of the senior staff officer in the NCO’s hands.
“Sir, it is early in the morning. Maybe if…” the Sergeant began.
“I am aware of the turn of the sand timer,” Alerio exclaimed. “What I want, Optio, is Centurion Calpar to come out and face me man-to-man.”
The NCO didn’t need years of combat experience to recognize when battle lines were forming.
“I’ll get my Centurion, sir,” the NCO reported.
“Tell him to bring that coward Calpar with him,” Alerio sneered.
Battle lines, the NCO thought as he jogged away. Usually, he would send a pair of infantrymen to awaken his officer. But this situation would take some explaining, even if he didn’t know the full story.
***
Long moments later, the sound of two men arguing reached the guard post. One of the voices was raspy.
“I told you Regulus East would handle this,” the other remarked. “He’s probably just drunk and needs to sleep it off.”
“I totally agree,” the one with the hoarse voice assured him. “The Senior Tribune obviously has a problem with Legion North. It only makes sense that we arrest him so the situation can be straightened out in the morning.”
“If you think that’s best,” the Centurion for Legion East caved to the logic. They reached post three and the combat officer returned the salutes of his guards.
He looked up at Alerio, “Senior Tribune, I don’t know what the trouble is, but I’ve brought Centurion Calpar. Perhaps we can settle this.”
“I have only one thing to say to a dog who would beat a man tied to a chair before trying to burn him to death,” Alerio growled. He slid off the stallion and marched towards Calpar. “Draw your weapon.”
“Optio Donatas,” Calpar called over his shoulder.
Hobnailed boots on the street announced the arrival of a group of Legionaries. Shortly after, two squads of Legion North men jogged into the torch light and bracketed their Centurion.
“You’ve had too much vino, sir,” Calpar commented. “Please come along quietly. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
Alerio glanced at the sky and stepped back.
“You’ll be dead before the sun comes up,” Alerio promised.
“I think we’ve established the senior staff officer has come unbalanced,” Calpar stated. “Optio Donatas, take him into custody. And be gentle.”
Alerio braced and estimated his chances of reaching Calpar. He only needed to get within the reach of a blade. As if reading his mind, the twenty Legionaries closed in, creating a barrier between Sisera and Calpar.
“Come along, sir,” Sergeant Donatas offered.
Donatas was the Optio who had taken Alerio to the Legion North stockade. For a heartbeat, Alerio contemplated killing the NCO. But the feeling fled as soon as it came. Murdering an Optio simply for escort duty wouldn’t satisfy Alerio’s itch for revenge.
“Remember earlier today, you were warned that I might fight?” Alerio questioned.
“I do, sir,” the Optio replied.
“They weren’t wrong,” Alerio roared as he drew his gladius.
Twenty blades unsheathed in response and Alerio faced the collection of gladii.
“If the delusional staff officer is killed in this fiasco,” Calpar announced, “no one will face punishment.”
Untethered from the discipline of respecting a superior officer, the squads stepped forward.
From behind Alerio, a bull like voice ordered, “Forward.”
Believing he was surrounded, Alerio put his back to the stallion and waited for the attack.
“Marines, form ranks.”
Forty Legion Marines jogged from either side of Phobos and formed a shield wall. Then a short cocky officer strutted to the front of the formation.
“Good morning, Senior Tribune,” Palle greeted him with a salute. “Trouble, sir?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Alerio boasted.
“I can see that, sir,” the Marine Centurion noted. “Medic Nicanor suggested I check on you and here we are.”
“Marine. You will stand down,” Calpar lectured. An attitude of superiority dripped from his every word. “This is First Century business and none of yours.”
Palle snapped his head around and glared at the First Centurion. He shifted his shoulders and twisted his upper body to face the other officer.
“You talk to me like that again,” the Ardent Rabbit proclaimed, “and I will kick my way through your boys and slap the stupid out of you.”
The harsh words caused mumbling from the ranks of infantrymen and from the Marines. There were only a few ways the confrontation could resolve itself. None were good.
“What in Averruncus’ good name is going on here?” Marcus Regulus demanded from his horse.
Around him were sixty Legionaries of First Century, Regulus Legion West. Neither the Consul nor the veteran infantrymen appeared happy to be up and dressed so long before sunrise. Nevertheless, they were the living embodiment of Averruncus, the God Who Averts Calamity.
“Senior Tribune Sisera, what are you doing?” Marcus demanded.
“I came to kill Centurion Calpar, General,” Alerio responded. “Although, I’d settle for putting him up on the wood.”
“Those are really serious consequences,” Regulus observed. “Pick a squad of Marines and come with me. We have things to discuss.”
“First squad on me,” Palle commanded. He turned to Alerio. “After you, Senior Tribune Sisera.”
But Alerio remained in place, staring at the Consul.
“Sir, I don’t need bodyguards,” he declared.
“You might after tonight,” Marcus Regulus responded while scanning the naked blades aimed at Alerio. “Mount up and follow me.”
Marcus guided his horse around as Alerio jumped onto his saddle. The two walked their mounts away from
guard post three. Ten Marines and the Rabbit, jogged along with a squad from First Century, Regulus Legion West.
Behind them, the infantrymen and Marines continued the stare down.
“That was odd,” the Centurion for First Century East remarked to Calpar.
But Centurion Calpar had vanished into the night. Then, as it did in every Legion in every region where Legionaries served, the voice of routine challenged.
“Post three, resume your duties,” an Optio directed. “Everyone else, go find something to do. Or I will find something for you.”
The Marines and infantrymen scattered before the NCO began assigning work details.
Act 8
Chapter 22 - Senatorial Decree
Seven Legionaries from First Century Regulus West marched into the meeting room, examined the walls behind the drapes, the windows, under the tables, and anywhere an assassin could hide. One took a drink from the pitcher of wine on a table and examined the glasses next to it. After checking, an NCO waved at the doorway.
Consul Marcus Regulus entered followed by Nugari, the commander of First Century of Legion West. Three Marines marched in and stood against an empty wall. Senior Tribune Sisera entered with Centurion Palle close behind. The two saluted the Consul/General.
“Sir. If this is about the scuffle, I have reasons,” Alerio remarked. He began unwrapping the bandages from his wrists. “I can show you.”
“I need your oath of allegiance,” Marcus Regulus blurted out.
“Excuse me, sir?” Alerio asked. He stopped unwinding and let the loose ends of the bandages dangle from his wrists. “You are a Consul, and I am a loyal citizen of the Republic. With that, comes my fidelity.”
“Clear the room,” Marcus demanded. “Everybody out except the Senior Tribune.”
In reverse order of how they entered, the bodyguards and Centurions shuffled from the meeting room.
“I’ve been ordered back to Rome,” Marcus announced once the room emptied. “The Senate wants one of the Consuls there to preside over the elections in the spring.”
“That’s great news, sir,” Alerio beamed. “I’ll be there when my baby is born. What’s not to like?”
“I can’t go,” Marcus responded.
Silently, he poured vino into a pair of glasses and handed one to Alerio. Standing silently, the Consul stood staring into his glass.
“If you can’t go home and you need my oath,” Alerio pondered, “I can only surmise you want me to remain here with you. But why, sir?”
“Do I have your oath of allegiance?’ Marcus questioned.
Alerio thought of Gabriella’s beautiful face and her thickening waist. Both tugged at his heart while his mind screamed for him to be on the next ship heading home. But Marcus Regulus was afraid of something. Maybe not shaking in fright, but fearful in the way a thinking man grew cautious when faced with a bad situation.
The weight of what the Consul requested pushed aside thoughts of Gabriella and home and even the philosophical analysis. What Marcus Regulus wanted was Alerio bound to him by an oath. And most likely, to a plan that ran counter to the will of the Senate.
Alerio was uncertain if he had the right to swear away his honor. Suddenly, a chuckle bubbled up through his sore throat.
“Is something funny?” Marcus inquired.
“Who else,” Alerio declared to a blank expression. Then he clarified. “I mean Consul, I joined you in building the fleet. I came along when you were appointed Consul and General of the expedition. And we took the beach at Kelibia.”
Alerio paused and sipped from his glass. The liquid cooled his throat.
“Is all this leading somewhere?” Marcus questioned.
“Yes, sir. I can’t leave you now,” Alerio stated before guaranteeing. “Marcus Atilius Regulus, until we are both safely home, you have my oath of allegiance.”
“Regrettably, neither of us will see Rome until next year,” Marcus informed Alerio.
“But the Senate has ordered you home,” Alerio reminded the Consul.
“I can’t go home,” Marcus exclaimed, “because Lucius Longus has become unreliable. Ever since the engagement at Cape Ecnomus, he’s been accusing people of plotting against him. Now I fear, he’s become totally unbalanced.”
“I’ve heard that phrase before,” Alerio stated. “From the men who held and beat me and attempted to burn me in the supply tent.”
“Who did that?” Consul Regulus demanded.
“Consul Longus and his First Centurion Calpar,” Alerio told him. “If you’ll excuse me, sir. I need to go and kill them.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Marcus Regulus announced.
“But if Consul Longus sails for home, he’ll take Calpar and they’ll both be out of my grasp,” Alerio protested. “Why would you protect them?”
“I’m not protecting them, Colonel Sisera,” Marcus replied.
“But, sir. They set fire to the tent and left me to…” Alerio stopped, his mouth opened, and he stammered. “Me? A Battle Commander?”
“It’s why I wanted your oath,” Marcus explained. “Longus and Calpar have misused Legion North and neglected the Legionaries. I don’t trust anyone of the command staff over there especially Colonel Haedulus. The Legion is yours if you want it.”
“Sir, I will accept the position,” Alerio indicated, “after sunrise.”
“Why then? Why not now?” Marcus asked.
“Because I made a promise,” Alerio replied. “And it wouldn’t be right for a Colonel to kill a line officer.”
“Calpar?” Marcus guessed. He thought about the offense and granted Sisera the time. “Morning will be soon enough to make the announcement. Oh, and you’ll need a Centurion for your First Century.”
“I know just the officer for my guard detail,” Alerio answered.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Marcus said. “Dismissed, Senior Tribune Sisera.”
***
Alerio dashed out of the meeting room and into the hallway.
“Rabbit. Send out men and find me the location of Centurion Calpar.”
The Centurion and the squad of Marines snapped to attention.
“Yes, sir,” Palle replied. The Marine officer issued orders to the squad. They raced for the exit, and the Rabbit promised Alerio. “You’ll know soon, sir.”
“Good. Now go collect one hundred and twenty of the best Marines,” Alerio instructed. “And meet me here at daybreak.”
They walked to the exit of the headquarters building and stepped into the street.
“I’d rather come with you, Senior Tribune,” the Ardent Rabbits professed. “You’ll need someone at your back.”
“One hundred and twenty of our best Marines,” Alerio repeated. “Meet me here at daybreak. Dismissed.”
Centurion Palle shivered from holding his tongue and himself in check. Rather than argue, he saluted and jogged away. Moments later a Marine raced up.
“Senior Tribune, I was told Centurion Calpar left Kelibia,” he reported. “Night watch said he was heading southwest, probably towards his home Legion. And sir, he was alone.”
Alerio leaped into the saddle and kneed the big stallion into motion. Once on the street heading out of town, he patted the thick neck.
“We have work to do,” he called out to Phobos. “Catch Calpar.”
From a cantor to a full out gallop, the horse stretched its stride, heading in the direction of Longus Legion North.
***
When they reached the rutted road outside of town, Alerio gently eased back on the reins. In response, Phobos slowed. But the pressure let up quickly, leaving the powerful horse to choose. He settled into a comfortable gait suitable for the dark wagon road.
The miles passed smoothly under his hoofs, until Phobos bucked and pranced sideways. Alerio clamped the animal’s flanks with his knees and snapped the reins tight. After urging the stallion back onto the road, he nudged the mount forward. The smell of fresh blood permeated the air and a few
steps later, Alerio noted a lump on the roadside. He slid off the horse, drew his gladius, and crept forward.
In the starlight, he could make out a large shape. As he got closer, the shape evolved into a dead horse. Alerio’s investigation revealed a massive slash across the animal’s throat and a foreleg angled back in an unnatural manner. He squatted beside the corpse and scanned the night. The lack of a human body or cries of pain meant the rider continued along the trail by foot. Only the horse had paid the price for the recklessness.
Alerio figured Centurion Calpar was the rider, which presented a problem. Ahead in the dark marched a Legion veteran. Even if hurt when the horse fell, the combat officer was fit enough to end the suffering of the wounded beast with his gladius. Making him dangerous and in a position to set up an ambush.
***
“It was dumb to push the horse,” Calpar whined as he strolled through the dark.
In his mind, he played the events of the last evening. He almost had the staff officer in his custody, but that cocky Marine officer interfered. As the only witness to the attempted murder, other than Consul Longus, Calpar needed to kill Senior Tribune Sisera. But the Tribune escaped with Consul Regulus and that changed everything. Before long, they would come looking for him.
Longus would be protected even if the burning was the Consul’s idea. But a combat officer without political connections would die on crossed woods and nobody would care about it. Luckily, the Republic was a big place, and a man could vanish if he had the coins.
Calpar did have the reserves. However, his stash of coins was hidden at the North Legion. Once he collected the purses, he could get back to Kelibia, slip through town, and bribe his way onto a ship heading for Pantelleria Island. From there, any boat heading for Sicilia worked. After that, would soon be home and lost in the Republic.
Figuring he was halfway to the North Legion, Calpar picked up his pace. It would be better if he were in and out of the Legion camp by sunup. From behind him came the sounds of a single horse.
“Providence is with me,” Calpar declared.
Drawing his gladius, he stepping to the side of the road. There Calpar squatted and coiled as if he was a snake waiting for a victim. Which, by most definitions, he was.
Uncertain Honor Page 19
