“Surely with your family name you could go to Macedonia and rebuild your life,” Alerio suggested. “It has to be better than being a thief.”

  “My mother was a farm girl whose family followed Alexander to the mountains of Antigonus,” Hector told him. “My father never married her or recognized me as his son. She wasn’t even sure if Nicanor was my father’s name. And to be honest, most of the infantry information I have comes from older men who knew the Silver Shields. But I have a plan.”

  “What plan?” Alerio asked. “Break into homes and steal items until you get caught. Then watch the sunset from the top of a wooden cross?”

  “I am, or rather was, going to join Rhodes Mercenary Corps,” Hektor declared. He pulled the old iron helmet out from under the cloak. “I sold your sword to buy my first piece of armor. I guess my plan wasn’t very tactical.”

  Alerio stabbed the deck boards and left the dagger sticking up.

  “The blade you took, as well as this one, is worth a fortune,” Alerio informed the boy. “And you sold it for a beat-up helmet? I agree with your assessment. Not very tactical.”

  “I got the helmet, the cloak, and passage on this ship,” Hektor listed trying to sound like he made wise choices.

  “Your accounting talent is rare,” Alerio stated. He pulled the dagger’s point from the wood and slid the blade into its sheath. “Rare as in impossible to rate based on your bad trades. It did serve you well in one instance.”

  “What’s that, sir,” Hector inquired.

  “I don’t kill dumb animals for revenge,” Alerio said. He stood and walked back to the steering deck. “You are correct Captain.”

  “How is that?” the merchant officer questioned.

  “I, like you, can’t imagine the likes of him being named for anyone famous,” Alerio responded.

  Act 2

  Chapter 4 - Third Stage of Ore

  Two days later, the merchant transport brushed against the pier at Akyaka and dockworkers pulled lines securing the ship to the pilings. The Captain rushed around directing which deck boards required removing to allow access to the cargo.

  “Thank you for the ride,” Alerio offered to the back of the busy ship’s officer.

  He pulled his baggage out from under the steering deck. After stacking the bags and armor on the deck, he hoisted the cumbersome pile of luggage onto his shoulders.

  “I hope you enjoy your stay at Akyaka. It was a pleasure helping you,” the Captain replied. “And please remember me to Master Vasil when you see him again.”

  Alerio had to twist around and crane his neck to see the ship’s officer through the bags of gear.

  “I will do that, Captain,” Alerio promised.

  He walked the ramp and found a porter with a cart.

  “Where to, sir?” the man inquired while he stacked the equipment on the bed of the wagon.

  “I guess the Rhodes Army headquarters,” Alerio replied.

  “Yes sir,” the porter acknowledged. “The Mercenary Corps Headquarter is in the eastern section of town. It shouldn’t take long to get there.”

  “What does that mean, shouldn’t take long to get there?” Alerio inquired. “How far is it?”

  “It’s not the distance, Lieutenant,” the porter explained. The title assumed Alerio was an officer in the Mercenary Corps. “By street, it’s only two miles. But if an ore convoy comes in, we could be stuck waiting for the Corps to reopen the streets.”

  “They do that often?” Alerio questioned.

  From what he knew, metal ore was mostly rock. Even after mining, it was not valuable enough to warrant armed security and closing sections of a town.

  “Every time teams of donkeys bring in ore,” the porter assured him.

  “They block the streets for loads of ore?” Alerio asked. “That seems excessive.”

  “It’s because the convoy hauls the third stage of ore,” the porter stated. “After extraction, the ore rocks are crushed and ground at the mines. What comes to Akyaka are bags of ore dust. Anyone can separate raw copper, silver, lead, or gold from that.”

  “Let’s hope we aren’t held up,” Alerio offered. “By the way, how did you know I was a military officer?”

  “The gear,” responded the porter as he pushed the cart away. “Only officers have this much luggage.”

  Alerio could remember when as a Legionary, he could sling supplies over one shoulder, hang his armor and helmet on a stick, balance that over the other shoulder, and march anywhere in the Republic. As a staff officer, he traveled with writing material, changes of clothing, letters of introduction, and a chest of coins in addition to his armor and weapons.

  Shortly after the men wheeled the cart away from the docks, Hektor Nicanor finished his part of unloading the merchant ship. Once given a refund on his passage for the rowing plus a stipend for unloading, the youth also headed for the eastern section of town.

  ***

  The street took Alerio and the porter from the docks to the town’s market. On the far side of the stalls, they entered an area of large estates surrounded by trees. In the center of the residential forest, they turned right.

  “Nice villas,” Alerio observed.

  “They belong to the owners of the mines and the founders of the mint,” the porter told him.

  “Making coins is profitable,” Alerio ventured.

  Once out of the woods, the houses and businesses on the street shrunk to normal size. But farther east, the density of the structures dropped until the roadside was bare of buildings and trees.

  “This is the buffer zone,” the porter reported. “In case of a robbery, these fields will be flooded with guardsmen, sealing off the robbers from escape by sea.”

  “Couldn’t they just go around?” Alerio questioned.

  “There are guard posts on the road climbing to the highlands,” the man explained. He pointed to the slope starting a thousand feet to the north and climbing sharply into the sky. “And the reason we went through the market before heading east is to avoid the lowland marshes. No one could escape through that muck.”

  “The mint sounds very secure,” Alerio remarked. “I can’t imagine anyone attempting a robbery here.”

  “Neither can most people,” the porter agreed. “But the concentration of wealth in Akyaka, and its many forms, draws an equal number of crooks.”

  People on foot coming and going stretched behind and to the front of them. Occasionally riders or faster wagons past them going in either direction. They strolled through the buffer zone until reaching the rear of two-story stone and brick buildings. At the structures, the road narrowed threading and compressing traffic between the buildings and onto sidewalks on both sides. Over the heads of the crowd, Alerio saw a broad plaza at the end of the road.

  “Above the shops, the second floors are apartments for the master smelters, artists, and craftsmen,” the porter explained. “Laborer and apprentice quarters are on the other side but outside the quad. That’s better for the Corps to keep an eye on them.”

  “Why do the apprentices need to be watched?” Alerio asked.

  “Temptation, Lieutenant,” the porter commented. “Loose valuables and empty pockets have led many a young man astray.”

  The crowd around them shuffled to a stop when a soldier with a spear blocked the road.

  “Ore caravan,” the porter announced. “This will take some time. If you want, there’s a café on the corner. I’ll stay and watch your luggage.”

  Pulling out a hunk of cheese and a heel of bread from a sack, the porter began eating. Thinking it looked like a good idea, Alerio shoved through the crowd heading for the café on the corner.

  ***

  From a table near the street, Alerio watched as mounted guardsmen swept the plaza clear of pedestrians, riders, and wagons. At all but one street, a spearman stood holding back traffic. The open street led to a compound beyond the quad.

  “Your wine and roasted goat, sir,” a waiter said while placing Alerio’s order on the table.

  “This clearing of the area,” Alerio questioned, “how long does it last?”

  “They begin emptying the plaza when the caravan reaches the third switchback from the top,” the waiter replied. He pointed north to the steep slope. “They only have a mile and a half to traverse, but it is still almost sixty feet uphill from here. How long depends on the donkeys. Rest assured sir, you have plenty of time to enjoy your meal.”

  Alerio relaxed, sipped his wine, and picked at his food.

  ***

  He had almost finished the meal when a man leading a donkey entered the plaza. Behind the one, a string of pack animals followed. Each had a platform mounted like a saddle over the donkey’s back. Tied to the platform were sacks full, Alerio supposed, of ore dust.

  The cavalrymen circled the plaza while the caravan and marching guards cut directly through the center. All the security seemed a bit much to Alerio. He had seen gold transferred between temples with less. Just as his thought ended, things got interesting.

  Two men brandishing knives dashed from a store front. Timed for when the cavalrymen were on the far side of the plaza, they reached the caravan unopposed. After hacking the ties on a donkey in the center of the convoy, each grabbed two sacks of ore dust and ran for the street where Alerio’s luggage waited.

  Curious, Alerio stood to get a better look. Sure, the robbers were heading for an exit from the plaza, but they were also heading for a spearman. The shaft dropped in elevation and the steel spearhead pointed first at one then at the other thief.

  “Stop right there,” the guard instructed.

  The two thieves split wide as they approached the spearman. It was obvious he had the ability to only stop one, meaning the other thief would escape.

  Alerio considered the sacrifice. Were they gamblers rolling the die of their lives for profit? Or maybe, desperate family members seeking to exchange one life for the good of the family. In both cases, planning to martyr half your assault unit seemed a little extreme and a bad tactic.

  Then two things happened. One revealed the plan and the other complicated the robbery.

  ***

  Hektor Nicanor shoved between spectators and ran at one of the robbers. At the same instance, a confederate of the slash-and-grab-artists smashed the guardsman to the ground. The spear rolled away giving safe passage to the thieves. But only one was able to vanish into the crowd with the ore dust. The other rolled on the street with Hektor.

  Unfortunately for the youth, the thief had heavy fists. On their third roll, Hektor ended up on the bottom. A left-handed punch followed by a cruel grinding on his nose lasted until the galloping of horses announced the arrival of the cavalrymen.

  The robber left Hektor on the ground, snatched one bag of ore, and sprinted into the crowd. While he vanished in the mass of bodies, the density of people on the street stopped the horsemen.

  Hektor struggled to a sitting position. His head lulled to the side as consciousness came and went. Blood flowed from a broken nose and he attempted to hang his head to keep it off his only good shirt.

  Two mounted soldiers galloped up, reached down, and grabbed him by his arms. Pulling Hector up into the air, they trotted to the compound. Suspended between their mounts, the youth’s knees churned trying to keep up with the horses. But he stumbled and ended up with his feet dragging across the plaza.

  A Sergeant and three guards ran to the spearman who remained on his hands and knees. After a moment, he retrieved his weapon and the NCO helped him to his feet.

  “I couldn’t do anything,” the spearman exclaimed while rubbing the back of his neck. “There were four of them. One hit me from behind.”

  “We have one in custody,” the NCO assured him. “He will tell us who the other thieves are. You can be sure of that.”

  Alerio dumped coins on the table and pushed his way through the crowd. On the other side of the street, he searched the ground. Once he located the old iron helmet, the worn cloak, and Hektor’s small bag of belongings, he collected the items and carried them to his cart.

  “We are not going to the military headquarters. We are going to the compound first,” Alerio informed the porter. And even though the porter had no idea what the officer meant, Alerio added. “I know. It is protocol to report in before slinging one’s rank around. But I feel responsible for the youth.”

  “Why is that?” the porter inquired, latching onto the only thing he understood in the officer’s speech.

  “Because I let him live,” Alerio responded.

  Knowing the guards would be rough in their questioning of a suspected gang member, and possibly lethal when they did not get the answers they wanted, Alerio stepped in front of the cart and began to clear a path. If he had any chance of saving Hektor Nicanor, he needed to be at the front when the plaza reopened.

  ***

  Caerus, the God of Opportunity, shouted into Hektor’s ear.

  Standing in the crowd, Hektor Nicanor worried about finding employment with Rhodes Mercenary Corps. If he had a specialty such as being an expert bowman, or a notable horseman, he might be able to convince them to hire a sixteen-year-old. But his heart was set on being an infantryman like his father and his grandfather. And the Corps did not take tall, thin, youths under eighteen without a recommendation.

  When the thieves cut the ore sacks and ran directly towards him, Hektor heard the voice.

  ‘I grant you a once in a lifetime chance,’ Caerus declared. ‘Grab it with both hands. Go be a hero.’

  Without thinking beyond the need to stand out, he dropped the iron helmet, the old cloak, and his bag of possessions. Using both hands he shoved a path through the crowd, reached the street, and ran at one of the thieves.

  The man went down and Hektor decided that being a hero was easy. Then as they rolled on the ground, an elbow jerked up and crushed the side of his head. The two rotated again and Hektor ended up on the bottom. The thief ground his fist into the youth’s nose turning the cartilage into dust. Suddenly, the man’s weight lifted, and the world spun.

  Fighting to reach a sitting position, Hektor attempted to lean away to keep the blood off his best, well, his only good shirt. The one he needed for the interview with the Corps. Bending over made him dizzy, and he began to fall back to the street.

  Hands clamped onto his arms and he went from falling to flying. Confused but feeling movement, he tried to jog. But every other footfall failed to touch the street. His ankles crossed, he tripped, but the hands of the horsemen held tight. The toes on both feet shredded toenails, sandals, and toe skin on the stone pavers. Unrelenting, the cavalrymen with the injured Hektor Nicanor suspended between them entered the compound of the mint and the Mercenary Corps.

  ***

  Hektor’s eyes refused to focus. A storm raged in his brain and he could not think. And his feet shuddered in pain and would not hold his weight. Without the hands of the horsemen holding him up, the youth collapsed to the parade ground.

  “String him up,” Lieutenant Cletus instructed. “I will not stoop to a rat’s level for the interrogation.”

  A rope was lashed around Hektor’s wrists, tossed over a beam, and the tall youth found himself stretched until only the raw tips of his toes touched the ground.

  “Who are your accomplices?” Cletus asked.

  Hektor whimpered, bent his knees, and held his feet up for a moment. Then, his body failed him, and his feet dropped.

  “If you don’t stop screaming and answer me,” Cletus told him. “I’ll gut you right now and find the other members of your gang some other way.”

  But the threat did no good. Hektor could not hear over the sounds of his own cries of pain.

  Chapter 5 – Staff Officer’s Staff

  Once released by the soldiers, the people who had been dammed up on the street flooded the plaza heading in different directions. Alerio jogged ahead of the crowd following the bloody tracks from Hektor’s feet. Behind him, his porter pushed the cart across the plaza at a much slower pace.

  “Halt,” one of the three guards at the gate instructed. “What is the nature of your business?”

  “Tribune Sisera from the Roman Republic,” Alerio told him. “I am a military observer under authority from Chief Magistrate Kolya Niels. And I need to get into the compound.”

  “Sir. That is far above my pay grade,” the spearman exclaimed. “Wait here while I get Lieutenant Cletus.”

  Alerio wanted to kick himself. Without thinking, he had used his title and tossed in the name of a high-ranking member of Rhode’s government. Rather than impress the soldiers, he had triggered an intimidation reflex. Overwhelmed, the guards felt the necessity to get an authority figure involved.

  “I am pressed for time,” Alerio insisted.

  “Yes sir, I am sure you are,” the other guard responded. “If you’ll be patient, I am sure the Lieutenant will be along shortly.”

  Alerio looked back. The porter and his luggage were halfway across the plaza. And Hektor’s bloody tracks were almost erased by people going about their day.

  Accompanied by a Sergeant, the first guard returned and resumed his post. The NCO measured Alerio with his eyes as he approached.

  “The Lieutenant is busy at the moment, sir,” the NCO advised. “He apologizes for the delay, but he is dealing with an emergency.”

  “That’s not what your Lieutenant said, is it?” Alerio questioned. “And I bet his emergency has to do with the stolen ore dust. Am I correct?”

  “You are right, sir,” the NCO acknowledged.

  “Come closer so we can talk,” Alerio invited the Sergeant.

  ***

  On a good note, Hektor Nicanor’s feet had gone numb. No longer did his toes scraping on the rocks send burning pains up his legs.

  “You will tell me where to find your confederates,” Cletus screamed, causing a little spit to fly from his mouth. He drove his fist into the suspect’s ribs to emphasize the demand. “Name them?”

  On a bad note, Hektor had recovered enough that he felt the ribs crack from the punch.

  “I don’t know,” the boy wheezed. “I don’t…”