Archimedes and Nicholas wandered over while nibbling on bread.
“Like spearing fish in a pond,” Archimedes suggested.
“Unfortunately for an attacker who takes the easy route,” Alerio admitted, “it is exactly like spear fishing. In those pools, men will die, being trapped by men coming in from behind. I hate to admit it, but your plan is ingenious.”
Gabriella’s face darkened and she walked away from the four men. Moments later, Alerio looked around but couldn’t find her. After a quick search of the fort, he discovered her sitting quietly on the wagon.
“You should have told me,” Alerio informed her. “I would have walked out with you.”
“But I, Sisera, did not want to walk out with you,” she replied.
“I don’t understand,” Alerio pleaded. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing that I didn’t already know,” she said with exhaustion in her voice. “You speak of being butchered so easily. Death and military maneuvers are in your heart. For a time on the ride over, I forgot what you are.”
Alerio paused and thought. He had the question but resisted asking. Finally, his heart beating hard on his ribs forced him to voice it.
“And what am I?” Alerio asked.
“You, Alerio Sisera are a Tribune of the Legion,” she complained.
Then Gabriella snapped the reins and the wagon rolled away leaving Alerio standing alone on the hilltop. With his mind numb from the confrontation, he remained in front of the fort until the sun set over the buildings. In full darkness, Alerio began the long walk back to the Starfish Inn.
Chapter 12 – Rejected and Unloved
The sunlight blanketed half the apartment. But to Alerio’s sleep encrusted eyes, it lay backward. Morning sun should be along the west facing wall and floor. Only in the afternoon does it…
“I have slept the day away,” Alerio grumbled as he rolled out of bed. In appreciation of the soft mattress, he offered. “Much better than sleeping on the ground.”
After splashing water on his face, he strolled to the alley side window, bent, and looked at the sky.
“Does it mean anything, if it’s a nice day?” he complained to the storm clouds overhead. “I’ve no where to be with nothing to command my attention.”
Because he was bored, Alerio lowed his gaze. The door across the alleyway opened a crack and remained motionless for long moments. When it fully opened, the woman didn’t shuffle from the doorway. She appeared hunched as she crept out of the metalsmith’s shop. No prancing or bright eyes today, she remained near the door huddled next to the wall.
“Are you ill, Febe Chrysós?” Alerio whispered.
As if she sensed someone watching, Febe glanced over her shoulder at the other end of the alleyway. But she failed to look up and across the lane at Alerio’s second floor window.
“I’ll leave you to your business,” Alerio mouthed in her direction.
One of Febe’s arms jerked outward and she made hurry up motions towards the mouth of the alley. Caught up in another of the woman’s miniplays, Alerio stayed to watch the act unfold.
The tall delivery man came into view. No cupped hand to stroke his face waited to greet him. Instead, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him in close to her.
Alerio expected a kiss and an embrace. Neither occurred. Rather in the narrow space between their bodies she displayed an object. The size of her palm, it was wrapped in a cloth and pushed into the young man’s hands.
He took the item and lifted a corner of the cloth then quickly covered it. Only after the transfer did Febe hug the man’s neck and draw him down to plant a kiss on his lips. They separated and the man jogged out of view. Febe on the other hand twirled and danced a few steps before opening the door and vanishing into the shop.
“A present for her young lover,” Alerio laughed. “The young partner receives gifts, and the older half receives what? Love, companionship, or maybe simply a chance to recapture a more exciting time in her life?”
Alerio strapped on his dagger, straightened his tunic, and headed for the door. As he walked out of the apartment and took the stairs down, a thought occurred to him.
‘Maybe I can find a rich older woman who I can meet in an alleyway,’ he pondered. ‘If not love, at least I’d have gifts.’
***
The rain fell in waves resembling sheets of sails blowing across the city. Unfortunately, the three-day weather delay left Tribune Sisera with nothing to do because no ships could row in or out during the storm. Rain and idle time guided Alerio to a pub and tavern games.
“It’s all in the wrist and the balance of the blade,” Alerio explained to the men lined up behind him. He took a long pull of Syracuse beer before offhandedly flipping the knife. It spun across the distance and landed point first in the center of the target. “Simple, see?”
To the groans of the crowd, he staggered to a table and collected his winnings. Someone handed him his knife and he fumbled and dropped it on the tabletop.
“For two days you have cleaned out coin pouches and defeated all comers,” the gambler told him. “I am afraid Alerio, there are no more challengers for you.”
“Then I shall attempt to drink this fine establishment dry,” Alerio boasted as he slid the Noric blade into the sheath. He canted to one side before righting himself. “Indeed, I will give it a try.”
At his table in the corner, Alerio watched a blurred image of a very young serving girl bring him another pitcher of beer.
“You are cute,” she flirted. “I get off at sunset.”
The words and meaning took a few heartbeats to pass through the alcohol barrier.
“Love, companionship, or a chance to be young again,” he exclaimed. “Have you no wealthy older friends. No one to give you gifts?”
“I am not that kind of girl,” she barked. “You are a pig. And not a gentleman and…”
Alerio raised his mug in salute as she stormed away. And like the ravings of the serving girl directed at Alerio, outside Tempestas, the Goddess of Storms, vented her rage on Syracuse.
When the front door of the tavern blew open, a woman in a hooded cape came in with the wind. A patron closed the door as the woman tossed back the cape. A pair of sparkling brown eyes scanned the room.
“This is the third tavern I have visited today. I am wet, tired, and angry,” she shouted. “I am not thirsty, and I don’t want to hear your life’s story or entertain an offer of friendship. I am looking for Alerio Sisera. Is he here?”
Heads turned and peered at a table in the corner.
Oblivious to the woman’s presence, Alerio attempted the difficult task of pouring beer from a pitcher into a mug. It wouldn’t be hard if the mug and pitcher would remain stationary.
“You are drunk,” a female voice accused.
“Not near enough,” Alerio replied while trying to control the stream of beer flowing onto the tabletop. “But the owner assured me they have barrels of this stuff in the back.”
“Tribune Sisera, I know you are disappointed in me,” the woman told him.
“I’ll have another pitcher and some beef, and bread,” Alerio slurred. “Stew and bread, works as well.”
“Sisera, I am talking to you,” she said with aggravation. “Please understand.”
The voice of a siren, her song as strong as one calling to a sailor awash in the sea, broke through the ocean of beer.
“Gabriella DeMarco, what are you doing here?” Alerio asked while attempting to stand. “Can I offer you a beer?”
“No Tribune, not a beer,” she said while taking his arm and guiding him around the table. “But you can offer me your help.”
“Help? I fear fair lady, I am in no shape to offer anything,” Alerio said as he sagged against her shoulder.
“Come on, we are leaving,” Gabriella instructed.
She pulled on his arm and the Tribune staggered in the general direction of the front door. Using his momentum and her control, they made it out of the tavern and
into a carriage.
“To my residence, please,” Gabriella instructed the driver.
“Is that who you were looking for in all those pubs?” the teamster offered. “A pretty woman like yourself, lady, can do better than a drunk.”
“In this case,” Gabriella replied, “I cannot do better, as you say. This drunk is precisely who I need.”
***
Another platter of cold ham and carrots replaced the empty plate.
“Are you feeling better?” Gabriella asked. She added a smile of sympathy.
“How did you find me?” Alerio asked. Between bites of food, he drank water.
“First I went to the Starfish Inn,” Gabriella replied. “When the proprietor told me, you hadn’t been to your room in two days, I began a concentric search.”
Alerio poured water on a cloth and placed it on the back of his neck.
“You began a what?” he inquired while squinting his eyes.
“I looked in all the neighboring taverns starting with the ones closest to the Starfish Inn,” she informed him before lying. “You were in the seventh pub I checked.”
She smiled a demure expression to hide the fact she had located him at the third pub. But she needed him to feel that she had worked hard to locate him.
“I apologize for putting you through the ordeal,” Alerio acknowledged then stopped. “Hold on. Why am I apologizing to you? More importantly, why did you interrupt my drinking? Surely, it wasn’t because you wanted my company.”
“Sisera, my feelings for you are complicated. But we can discuss them later,” Gabriella proposed. “Right now, I need your help.”
“Who do you want killed?” he sneered while throwing the damp cloth down on the table. “Because, according to you, that is all I am good for.”
“I told you it was complicated. But I can assure you, you mean more to me than a blade,” she pushed back. Then softly, Gabriella mentioned. “Dryas Chrysós has been arrested. And you are the only one I know who can help him.”
“Did he kill his cheating wife?” Alerio tossed out as a snide remark.
“That’s what they are charging him with,” Gabriella uttered. “How did you know?”
“Tell me what happened,” Alerio urged.
Gabriella picked up a carrot and rapped it against the edge of the platter.
“It started with a golden crown,” she related.
***
Dryas Chrysós carefully cut the Kings’ gold bars into equal parts. Then he positioned the pieces on his work bench and prepared the small forge and the crucible. Usually a single pot or two of molten gold provided enough metal for the construction of custom jewelry. But the crown for the Temple of Plutus required multiple castings.
“He brought me in to draw his vision of the crown,” Gabriella reported. “We worked for half a day on the placement of the gold ropes, peaks, scrolls, and the band. It was magnificent.”
After I left, Dryas sifted the molding sand in preparation for sculpting the shapes into forms. It took another day to get the separate molds completed. Then he poured in the molten gold. After allowing for a cooling period, he separated the molds. There were no gaps or bubbles from the pour, giving him perfect sections of the crown.
During the time he filed off excess gold, bent and twisted the ropes, carved the scrolls, and curled the band, Febe must have left the shop.
It wasn’t until Dryas’ stomach reminded him, he needed to eat, that he went upstairs. To his surprise, the living quarters were empty. Febe was nowhere to be found. After a snack, Dryas went to his shop, expecting his wife to return after a trip to the market.
“Men who craft with gold and silver are meticulous,” Gabriella informed Alerio. “They have to be exact as the tiniest details of their work will be scrutinized by admirers. It is not unusual for those craftsmen to remain at their workbenches throughout the night to finish a commission.”
The rain beating on the roof drowned out the banging on the door. Dryas set the pieces into a wooden frame. Then carefully, he dribbled molten gold into the seams. After piecing the segments together, he used a tool to smooth the still warm metal.
While buffing and polishing the surfaces of the crown, the front door crashed in and city guardsmen invaded the workshop.
A dilemma presented itself when the guard Sergeant saw the golden crown. An officer was summoned and when he arrived, he sent for one of the King’s Judges. Then, the guard took Dryas Chrysós to detention and the Judge carried the crown to the King.
“Word reached me and that’s when I went looking for you,” Gabriella concluded the narrative.
“What am I supposed to do?” Alerio asked. “Or rather, what do you expect of me?”
“I need you to prove Dryas Chrysós did not murder his wife,” she replied.
Her face gazed at Alerio so open and trusting that he almost believed through strength of will, he could find a solution. But, in all honesty, he could not see a way to prove the innocence of the goldsmith.
“The trial is tomorrow,” Alerio pointed out. “Even if I track down Febe’s man friend, it’ll be too late for Master Chrysós. He could be half dead on the nails before I bring back the man she possibly went to meet.”
“I talked to Nicholas about that,” Gabriella informed him. “He has a way to delay the process for at least a day.”
Alerio stood, still a little unsteady on his feet.
“Where are you going?” Gabriella questioned.
“To start the investigation,” Alerio replied. He grabbed the edge of the table to remain upright.
“Certainly not in the condition you are in,” she observed.
“You may not like this, Gabriella” Alerio warned, “but I have fought in worse shape. Imbalance from drink or blood loss feels the same. Except rather than be in a hospital tent tomorrow, I’ll be sober.”
Alerio collected his red Legion cloak from the drying line and left the house. He was correct. Gabriella DeMarco did not like his remarks.
***
On the far side of the Temple district, Alerio located the gate and the gate post with the etching of a bee. After hammering on the wooden door, he contemplated leaving and getting a good night’s sleep. Before he could act on the notion, the gate drew back, and darkness greeted him.
“I am a friend of the Golden Valley,” he said to the opening.
“Enter friend,” the manager invited. “Do you have something to show me?”
Alerio handed over the dagger identifying him as an ally of the valley.
“Please come into the office, Tribune Sisera,” Milon, the manager of the trading house, greeted him.
“I trust you have been well?” Alerio inquired.
“The years, the goods, the apprentices come, and they go,” the manager remarked. “We roll with the passage of time and hope to survive. And allies drop in for, what?”
They entered the building, trekked down a hallway, and turned into an office.
“A metalsmith has been arrested for murdering his wife,” Alerio informed the house manager. “I know the wife was having an affair with a tall, lean, but broad-shouldered delivery man. I need to find him.”
“It is not often we receive such specific requests,” Milton commented. “Is there a timeline?”
“Dryas Chrysós goes in front of a judge tomorrow,” Alerio began then stopped. “You already know about the charges. Don’t you?”
“Of the trial and charges, I have prior knowledge,” Milton admitted. “But the wife having a lover is news to me. Can you give me something else to help identify the man?”
“I don’t know much else,” Alerio confessed. “He is young and Febe gave him a gift.”
“Yes, the spring to winter paradox,” Milton suggested.
“That is one way to put it,” Alerio said as he accepted his dagger and sheathed it. “Thinking of the difference between lovers of different ages, the paradox is a fitting description.”
“Dryas Chrysós is a good and hones
t man,” Milton told Alerio. “I will have a messenger bring you any details we uncover.”
“It’s all I can ask,” Alerio professed before backing out of the office.
It was never a good idea to turn your back on anyone in a Golden Valley trading house. Even one disguised as the friendly manager of a trading concern dealing in luxury merchandise. Because the other item for sale at the trading house was death by the skilled assassins of the Dulce Pugno.
Act 4
Chapter 13 – The Golden Crown
Alerio woke to a message placed under his door sometime during the night. It directed him to a hearing room at the King’s Palace. When he arrived, Gabriella and Nicholas met him on the walkway.
“Have you found out anything?” Nicholas asked.
“Was it you who gave Gabriella the idea to contact me?” Alerio inquired, while ignoring the question.
Gabriella huffed, squared her shoulders, and fast walked ahead of the men.
“Oh no. It was the other way around,” Nicholas assured him. “But once she told me, I pointed out that one night wasn’t enough for you to find the real murderer.”
“That’s what I told her,” Alerio stated. “There is not enough time for an investigation.”
“There will be,” Nicholas exclaimed. “I have…”
“Nicholas, Tribune Sisera, hold up,” Archimedes called.
The tall, lean inventor jogged to them, took a place between the men, and draped his arms over their shoulders.
“I have just had the most amazing breakthrough,” Archimedes explained. “I got into my bath this morning and Eureka.”
“You got into a bath and discovered something?” Alerio teased. “Usually, I find out where my blisters and small cuts are located.”
“My body displaced water,” Archimedes declared.
Nicholas stopped and his mouth fell open. Alerio assumed Gabriella’s brother was about to unload some good-hearted harassment on the inventor.
Rome's Tribune (Clay Warrior Stories Book 14) Page 11
