Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 1

by J. Clifton Slater

  Alerio reached back and touched the dagger hanging from his belt at the small of his back. The curved knife with the yellow band around the black hilt identified him as an Ally of the Golden Valley. As an Ally, the trading house was honor bound to offer information, sanctuary and medical assistance to any Ally. Additionally, it protected him from assassination by the Sweet Fist. They wouldn’t take a contract on him. Conversely, they wouldn’t kill for him, unless he took out a contract and paid to have a victim eliminated. He didn’t have the coin or the desire to hire an assassin.

  Resuming the run, Alerio left the villa and soon passed the rear of the Candle Maker’s compound and the city’s defensive wall. Turning left at the intersection, he headed back in the direction of the Chronicles Humanum Inn.

  Chapter 14 - Fireguard District

  After a soak in the bathhouse and dressing in the ill-fitting tunic, Alerio entered the great room in search of a meal. Crossing to the alcove, he peered over the white marble counter.

  “Late night?” he teased the innkeeper.

  Thomasious sat with his forehead resting in his hands. The way he sat, it appeared as if the man had consumed a large quantity of vino and was hungover. Upon hearing the voice, the innkeeper raised his head to reveal surprisingly clear eyes.

  “No Sisera, I’m bothered by a report I’ve received,” Thomasious explained. “Sometimes gossip and politics collide. But you don’t want to hear about politics. If I feed you a meal, will you give me your opinion on the gossip?”

  “Master Harricus, if you feed me, I’ll gladly listen to the tale of how your grandfather met your grandmother,” Alerio replied.

  “That’s actually a good story,” Thomasious offered as he stood and pointed to a table. “But I’ll save it for another time. Right now, have a seat, and I’ll get us some food. Is braised lamb alright?”

  “Sounds delicious,” replied Alerio as he pulled out a chair and sat.

  Thomasious emerged from the double doors followed by a serving girl. She placed platters of lamb and roasted vegetables on the table while the innkeeper took his chair. After she left, they ate quietly for a while.

  “Two Senators got into a heated argument last night,” Thomasious announced.

  “I thought this wasn’t political,” Alerio uttered between bites.

  “The second part isn’t,” explained Thomasious. “They were at a party in a mutual friend’s villa. The Senators are usually at odds politically so a disagreement between them wasn’t unusual. Before they were asked to leave the party, the host guided them to a side room to continue the discussion. As they left the main room, a few things were overheard. One politician said he wouldn’t support laws from absentee Consuls. Seems that two weeks ago, Consul Julius Libo assumed command of the Eastern Legion and went off to chase rebels. Since then, he’s been communicating his desires to the Senate via courier. Consul Marcus Regulus is off touring the Legions on the northern frontier.”

  “The Consuls’ words are the rule of the land,” Alerio said. “The Senate’s job is to implement the Consuls’ orders.”

  “Exactly, except, the Senate has a lot of leeway as to how the orders are carried out,” clarified Thomasious. “That’s the cause of most arguments in the Senate. Last night, Senators Faunus suggested the orders weren’t logical or good for the Republic. He went so far as to question if Consul Julius Libo was indeed the author of the orders.”

  “Treasonous. Why is it every time we talk, it comes to treason?” questioned Alerio.

  “You’re in the Capital City,” Thomasious stated. “Most conversations in the city could be mistaken for treason. Now, as I was saying. Senator Faunus questioned the absent Consuls’ messages and that started the argument. The rest of the conversation between them is lost behind closed doors.”

  “What juicy story can the Clay Ear create from the argument?” Alerio inquired.

  “Nothing from the fight,” Thomasious admitted. “However, from the brutal murder of Senator Faunus, who challenged the authenticity of the Consuls’ messages, and his wife, and their bodyguards, the Clay Ear might have fodder for a story.”

  “How many bodyguards?” Alerio asked in horror. “We’re they trained? We’re they drunk?”

  “All were former Legionaries,” Thomasious reported. “According to my sources, the guards ate lightly and sipped watered wine while waiting for the party to end.”

  Alerio remained silent for a long time before asking, “How old was the Senator? Fat, out of shape, sickly?”

  “Senator Faunus was elected two years ago when he returned from four years as a Tribune with the northern Legion,” Thomasious answered. “The bodyguards were from his Legion unit. What are you thinking? A robbery gone wrong?”

  “The rule of assault and defense,” Alerio replied remembering the lessons from his father’s former Optio and Centurion. “It takes three assaulters to dislodge one defender. In order to defeat the four bodyguards and the Senator, the attack would require at least fifteen trained men. Ten to twelve experienced fighters if they could get in close before the assault started. Unless the Senator was carrying bags of gold from a dinner party, making it worthwhile for a hoard of highwaymen, the murder was an assassination.”

  “The Senator’s jewelry even the ropes and staff of his office were found on his body. So, the death isn’t good gossip,” complained Thomasious. “It’s bad political fare.”

  “What will the Clay Ear do? Put it in the gossip scroll?” asked Alerio while pushing away his empty platter. “Or, note it in a chain scroll?”

  “I’m not sure,” admitted Thomasious. “Use it as a footnote in a party story, and hit it hard in a couple of chain scrolls most likely.”

  “Oh, while we’re talking,” Alerio said. “Tell me about the Fireguard District.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, the city walls aren’t complete,” Thomasious lectured. “There are two places yet to be fortified. One is at the northern end of the city and the other at the center of the eastern edge. Rather than brick walls, those sectors have earthen ramparts. The Senate restricted all building construction along the earthen bulwarks to wooden structures.”

  “Because they want to save the clay bricks for the wall?” ventured Alerio. “Instead of using them to build homes and businesses?”

  “No. They have plenty of clay and sand. It’s the expense of completing the wall that’s holding up progress,” explained Thomasious. “The buildings in the Firebreak District to the north and the Fireguard District to the east are built to burn. In case an army attacks the city, the buildings will be set on fire to prevent the enemy from coming over the earthen walls.”

  “What about the people living and working in those districts?” asked Alerio. “What will happen to them when their homes and businesses are burning?”

  “It’s why no self-respecting citizen will live in the Firebreak or the Fireguard Districts,” explained Thomasious. “Life in the Districts is cheap and temporary. Although the city hasn’t been attacked for years, there’s still a threat from the far western tribes. But the Consuls and the Senate aren’t in any rush to finish the wall.”

  “One more question Master Harricus,” Alerio inquired. “What do you know about the Fireguard Brigade? Specifically, where can I find their leader, Vivianus?”

  “They’re a nasty gang of shakedown artists,” Thomasious explained. “Outside the Fireguard District, they mostly run a protection racket. As you witnessed at the Cloth Seller’s Shop, they target honest merchants without the means to protect themselves. As far as Vivianus, he holds meetings with his Lieutenants in various pubs. I’ve heard he picks a different one for each meeting.”

  “Any chance, the Clay Ear could find out which tavern Vivianus will use and when he’ll hold the next meeting?” asked Alerio.

  “Let me check with the old sage,” offered Thomasious.

  “Thank you, Master Harricus,” Alerio offered while standing and turning for the door. “I’m going to try on my new
clothes. Afterward, I’m going sightseeing. Oh, and would you ask Erebus to leave the side gate open tonight?”

  “More sightseeing?” guessed Thomasious.

  “In a way,” Alerio replied as he reached the front door. “If slumming fits the definition.”

  Chapter 15 - New Clothes, Same Old Attitude

  “Zacchaeus, the uniform fits great,” exclaimed Alerio. He was standing in front of a polished metal plate and admiring the Lance Corporal stripe, the gladius symbol of a weapons instructor, and the Raider ribbon with the rising sun on his shoulder. The green tunic was loose in the shoulders and flowed along his sides without being too tight.

  “Now try on the civilian tunics,” suggested the old tailor.

  The front door opened and closed. Zacchaeus handed the other tunics to Alerio and left to check on the front of his shop. As Alerio slid one of the new tunics over his head, Zacchaeus walked in holding a piece of folded parchment. He walked directly to Alerio and handed over the paper.

  ‘Three days to send me payment and the name of your mercenary,’ the badly formed letters spelled out, ‘or we burn your building, Vivianus.’

  “That’s interesting,” Alerio commented as he handed back the parchment.

  “Interesting? Just interesting is all you can say,” stammered the tailor. “They’re going to burn my business. And they want to know your name.”

  “This tunic is a little tight through the chest,” was all Alerio said.

  The tailor reached up and pinched the fabric between his fingers and thumb. After marking the stretched material with the chalk, he let go and slouched.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow,” Alerio assured the old man as he pulled off one and slipped the other tunic over his head. “And by then, maybe we’ll have an answer for the Fireguard Brigade.”

  Alerio tucked the finished clothing under his arm. He left the shop and at the corner turned left. Behind him, Thomasious stood on the porch of the inn watching the young Legionary stroll up the street.

  He knew from one of his little ears which tavern the Fireguard Brigade was using tonight. It would be easy to pass on the information to the Legion Decanus. Yet, he worried about getting Sisera killed. Maybe he needed a different prospective. Thomasious stepped off the porch and headed over to speak with Zacchaeus at the Cloth Shop.

  Alerio continued up the street and tuned the corner at the Historia Fae Armory.

  The door opened before Alerio could knock.

  “Your gear isn’t ready,” Tomas informed him.

  “It seems, I need to have another conversation with the Fireguard Brigade,” Alerio reported. “If it’s not an imposition, I’ll need to take the dual harness for the evening.”

  “If you’re paying a visit to the Fireguard District,” Tomas replied. “I suggest knee and shine guards and a face mask.”

  “Why? We don’t use them in the Legion,” Alerio pointed out.

  “Because you carry a big infantry shield,” Tomas remarked. “Unless you want to sneak a shield into the District, I recommend leg pieces. Couldn’t hurt. The mask is so they don’t spot you on the street tomorrow and shove a dagger between your ribs.”

  Alerio left the Historia Fae with a large leather bag hung over his shoulder. For the rest of the morning and early afternoon, he wandered the city. From the tightly packed workers’ homes to the huge public buildings constructed of granite slabs and decorative brickwork to the large villas of the wealthy, he gawked open mouthed. To a farm boy, it was as if he strolled through a dream.

  Eventually, he became overawed by the sights and strolled back towards the inn. Detouring to the east, he slowly walked the edge of the Fireguard District. Rather than the tightly packed but unique houses of brick and painted wood in most of the city, housing in the District was chaotic.

  Buildings started in one lot, crossed alleys, and rose two more stories over other buildings. Everything was constructed of raw wood and many structures listed threatening to topple over.

  Yet people lived there. Children played and their mothers yelled at them. Men and women left for work or returned from jobs. Among the people striving to live, rough men occupied doorways or stood in groups eyeing those with jobs. The desperate never change, Alerio thought as he left the district behind.

  A short while later, Alerio opened the door to his room at the Chronicles Humanum Inn. On his bed lay a small piece of parchment. Four words were scrawled on it; The Wine Trough, Tonight.

  Act 3

  Chapter 16 - Fireguard District

  Workmen returning from a day of hard labor assumed one of two postures. Stooped from a day of heavy lifting or carrying as if the muscles were unable to support the weight of their upper body. Or, straight backed and stiff as they attempted to stretch and relieve the tension in their lower backs. Both postures were accompanied by the same gait. A shuffling of feet from legs too worn out from the day’s work to lift their feet fully as they walked.

  In the dark of early evening, a cloaked man shuffled into the southern end of the Fireguard District. He held himself in an exaggerated upright posture as would a laborer.

  Alerio was a farm buy and familiar with both postures. After a hard day in the fields, he had assumed both. For entry into the district, the stiff backed worked best for hiding the dual gladius rig strapped low on his back. No one looked closely at the returning workman. It was best in Fireguard to blend in and avoid contact of any kind with strangers.

  A wonder of urban engineering, the Capital city boasted avenues and streets that ran straight, even over the high hills and through the valleys. One could cross the city and never make a turn. Designed for defense, the layout allowed a defending Legion to move rapidly from one section of the wall to another section.

  At first glance, Fireguard’s streets seemed to be illogical. Unlike the city’s roads, Fireguard’s twisted and turned like roots on a tree. Some ended in alleyways, others branched haphazardly, and some stopped abruptly at dead ends. As if the buildings were logs placed and stacked for a camp fire, the district had many passageways. Some alleys were just wide enough for a single person to squeeze through as if they were only there to allow air flow to feed a fire. The idea came to Alerio that it was a different kind of urban engineering.

  Alerio had slipped through five of the narrow alleys. At the mouth of each, he stood in the shadows and studied the streets. Shops for vendors selling used goods and fresh produce, eating establishments, and taverns shared the ground floor with apartments. Exterior stairs of rickety wood gave access to apartments on the upper floors. So far, none of the pubs were The Wine Trough and he was halfway into the southern end of the Fireguard District.

  Impulsively, he skipped through five more alleyways and crossed streets giving them only cursory glances. Each street resembled the next and none had the saloon where the Fireguard Brigade was supposed to meet. At the mouth of the sixth alley, he looked across open ground at a steep wall of dirt.

  High above street level, torches blazed ominously every fifty feet along the top of the earthen berm. With little effort, a single Legionary could set fire to Fireguard District by jogging along the top, snatching up torches, and throwing them onto the roofs of the buildings. The district would burn so fast many citizens would perish in the flames before they could flee to the clay brick portion of the city.

  During the trip through the district, voices of men, women, and children had mixed with the shouts of vendors. The noise levels of tightly packed humans, living in close proximally, became almost nonexistent near the earth wall. Maybe, they understood living in the first area to burn was tantamount to a death sentence.

  But, there were sounds of laughter and voices echoing off the earth embankment. Looking up, Alerio spied wide porches on the third floor of the buildings. From that height, the view would be over the wall. During the day, an observer could see farms, Legion Posts, and the clay and steel furnaces to the east. At night, it was the only place in Fireguard where the moon and stars were visible
.

  Alerio walked along the rear of the buildings. There were no doors or windows facing the earthen rampart, yet above, there were porches. He paused and listened below each porch. Loud voices carried down from the first three. At the fourth porch, the voices became muffled as if the speakers were talking in conversational tones. At the fifth and sixth porches, the volume increased to a level matching that of the other drinking establishments.

  Chapter 17 - The Wine Trough

  Ducking into the alley between the fourth and fifth buildings, Alerio walked to the street. Taking the stairs at the fifth building, he climbed to the third-floor landing.

  None of the noises from the porches reached the street side of the buildings. A few sounds emitted from the apartments on the third floor, but they were muffled. In fact, the widely spaced doors on the third floor suggested larger apartments. Alerio imagined the advertisement: Large rooms in a tinder box; enjoy the luxury before you burn to death.

  Alerio stepped up on the railing of the landing and stretched until his finger gripped the roof’s edge. He pulled and swung his body to the side. The first swing carried his legs to within a foot of the roof. On the second swing, his right leg reached the roof and he placed a foot on the boards. The other foot followed and he walked his feet up the roof while pulling up his torso. A final pull and his hips crossed over the edge. Now with most of his body on the roof, Alerio was able to slide back until his entire form lay on the roof.

  The jump from building five to four was easy for a Legionary. One of the exercises required by the Legion was the broad jump. Whether for fitness or to practice vaulting over an enemy’s trench, all Legionaries competed for rations in the broad jump. He landed lightly on building four.