Legionaries ran and they jumped. When Alerio reached the fence bordering the Minos Estate, he easily vaulted the rails. Landing on the other side, he ran the road eastward towards the plaza and his soon to be abandoned apartment.

  Where the walk from the forest estates to the plaza felt long and the ride the other way appeared short, the run back fell somewhere in the middle. But better, Alerio decided as he crossed the plaza. Moving at his own pace in a Legion jog and controlling his own breathing, cleared Alerio’s head.

  He was not out of breath and not angry when he climbed the stairs. No emotion drove him. What Alerio felt when he pushed open the door to the apartment was the cold precision of a Legion staff officer.

  “Nima, show yourself,” Alerio demanded while he strutted to the main room.

  The steward and a man with a spear stepped from the door to the eating area.

  “Tribune Sisera, you are home early,” Nima said. “No trouble on the way?”

  “I am afraid Corporal Chronos and his three playmates have had a bad day,” Alerio replied.

  “He is unarmed,” Nima encouraged the spearman. “Kill him.”

  Nima drew a sica. The long-curved blade glistened in the candlelight.

  Alerio’s gladius and Legion dagger were with his gear. But Alerio always had the ally of the Golden Valley dagger on his person. For a perverse reason, it was dangerous to leave it laying around where the knife could be stolen. Not dangerous for Alerio, he had the right to carry the weapon. The danger was to any unauthorized holder of the dagger and to those around the thief. Possessing one of the daggers meant a visit from assassins of the Golden Valley bent on setting an example. For this reason, Alerio never left the dagger behind.

  Balanced lightly on his feet, the spearman shuffled forward. Nima eased slowly to the side. Alerio recognized the movements. Given time to play out, one would attack while Alerio fended off the other. If he had space to maneuver, he could…

  From the shadows behind Nima, a hand lifted, and an old iron helmet dropped onto the steward’s head. Catching sight of the movement in the shadows, the spearman spun to face the new threat. A jab with the spearhead cut into Hektor’s thigh. In a practiced action, the spear retracted preparing for another thrust.

  Alerio brought the dagger up beside his ear and snapped his wrist forward. The dagger tumbled through the air and sank, blade first, into the spearman’s neck. In three quick steps, Alerio reached the men.

  Both might have survived their wounds. But the sica cut the spearman and the spear impaled Nima. They lived briefly until their bodies twitched in the final throes of death.

  Alerio retrieved the dagger, slipped it into its sheath, and bent to inspect the boy.

  “Tribune Sisera, it hurts,” Hektor complained.

  “Be thankful. If you were shorter, the spear would have rearranged your guts,” Alerio told him while wrapping a cloth around the youth’s leg. “As it is, you’ll hurt more when we are traveling.”

  “Are we going somewhere?” Hektor inquired. “When?”

  “As soon as I can find a couple of horses,” Alerio responded, “and a donkey. It’s time I saw the rest of the inland territory.”

  “But Akyaka is nice,” Hektor remarked. “This apartment is nice. My bed is nice.”

  Alerio split the cloth and tied the ends together.

  “And yet we have overstayed our welcome,” Alerio replied while tugging the knot tight.

  ***

  Hektor Nicanor moaned and put both hands on the horse’s neck. Pressing down, he lifted his weight and shifted his leg.

  “Tribune Sisera, there is no way to get comfortable,” he whined. “Why aren’t we, you know, riding away?”

  “Stop complaining,” Alerio encouraged. “I’ve fought with worse injuries.”

  Alerio sat on his mount at the end of an alleyway. His eyes followed a patrol of four soldiers as they moved around the plaza.

  “Sit up straight, hold the donkey’s lead tight, and hide your pain,” Alerio directed Hektor. Then he nudged his horse forward.

  The patrol had covered the far side of the quad and the four soldiers were ambling back towards the compound.

  “Hey Corporal, we have horsemen,” one of the spearmen remarked.

  In the middle of the night the plaza was deserted. Seeing two men and a donkey walk from a lane required scrutiny.

  “Hold up there, traveler,” the NCO ordered. “What brings you out in the middle of the night?”

  “My valet and I want to make Muğla before daybreak. We plan to join the daily caravan,” Alerio responded. “However, it is fortunate that we found you.”

  “How so?” the Corporal inquired.

  “We heard a loud argument.” Alerio described, “from a second-floor apartment.”

  “And why do I care about a domestic dispute?” the NCO questioned.

  “I don’t know if you should. But they said something about sacks of gold dust,” Alerio lied.

  “Which building?” the Corporal asked.

  With directions, the four-man patrol jogged to the building, raced up the stairs, and barged into the apartment. In the candlelight, they found two bodies.

  “Corporal, isn’t that one of Corporal Chronos’ thugs,” a spearman suggested.

  “And this one is Nima, the building’s steward,” another member of the patrol said. “What do you suppose happened here?”

  “The ‘what’ is the easy part. Nima and the soldier argued and killed each other,” the NCO described. “The hard part is finding out why. And that is an officer’s job. Come on, we’ll report this to the Lieutenant.”

  While the patrol examined the scene of the fight, Alerio and Hektor reached the base of the slope. Following the curving road, they started uphill.

  “Where is Muğla?” Hektor inquired.

  “Fifteen miles north of here,” Alerio responded. He took the donkey’s line when Hektor almost fell from the saddle. “Just hold on and let your horse do the work.”

  The horses and the donkey were from tough mountain stock. They clomped forward setting one foot firmly on the ground before moving the next. It made their gait jarring and caused Hektor to moan with each step.

  “You could ride back to the seaport,” Alerio offered. “I’ll give you enough coins to pay for the passage. That way, you can rest and won’t have to work during the voyage.”

  “Tribune, I swore an oath on my father and grandfather’s honor to serve you,” Hektor protested. “That oath does not get cancelled because I am hurting. Please tell me about Muğla. Maybe that will keep my mind off my ribs, toes and my thigh.”

  Too often in his career, Alerio had comforted wounded Legionaries. Some injured men needed prayers, others wanted to be left alone in their misery, and a few desired the sound of a voice to distract them.

  “Muğla is one of four towns,” Alerio explained. “There is also Denizli to the northeast, Aydin to the northwest, and Dalyan to the south. Shaped like a rectangle, the four settlements protect the mainland territory of Rhodes. Each has a garrison housing companies of the Mercenary Corps, and trading companies for the miners.”

  The horses navigated a switchback following the winding road as it curved back and forth, climbing higher and higher.

  “Go on, sir,” Hektor begged when Alerio fell silent.

  “I’m afraid that was all I learned from the Captain on our trip over from Rhodes,” Alerio confessed. He thought for a moment then asked. “Could you climb this slope?”

  “If I was healed,” Hektor bragged, “yes sir. No problem.”

  “But could you do it if the grade were steeper, it was at night, and do it under the watchful eyes of sentries?” Alerio added. “Some guards at the bottom and others at the top?”

  “That would be difficult,” the youth admitted. “I’m not sure if anyone could do it.”

  “In Rome there is a hill with almost unscalable sides. It’s called Capitoline Hill. And this road reminds me of the road up to Juno’s Temple on Capitoline,” Alerio informed the youth. “A courier once scaled the cliff face with a message. And descended the hill, that vary night, with a reply.”

  “He got away with it?” Hektor guessed. “As clean as my getaway after a burglary?”

  Alerio pondered the concept for a moment before replying.

  “As skillful as you were in escaping from my apartment in Rhodes,” Alerio declared. “But unlike your failed mission, this messenger saved Rome while almost destroying the last of the Republic.”

  “Hold on Tribune,” Hektor pleaded. “Was he successful, or wasn’t he?”

  “Let me tell you the story,” Alerio advised, “then you can decide.”

  Chapter 8 – Woe to the Vanquished

  “One hundred and thirty-three years ago, Rome only controlled a few miles beyond the city limits,” Alerio described. “The Legion was mostly in garrison and accustomed to fighting at nearby cities. Seeing arrogance in his people, the God Nemesis decided to punish them. Conspiring with the fates, the God had Colonel Camillus brought before the Senate. On charges of fraud, Camillus, the Republic’s best Battle Commander was exiled. That displeased Mars, the God of War. Shortly afterwards, a tribe of Gauls, named the Senones, threatened Clusium a neighboring city several towns away from the Capital. Because Clusium had a mutual defense treaty with Rome, three sons of Marcus Fabius were dispatched to negotiate with a minor Senone Chieftain.”

  “Surely, the Fabius brothers honored Hermes,” Hektor suggested.

  “My God of Negotiations is not Hermes,” Alerio asserted. “He is known as Mercury. However, you are incorrect. Influenced by Mars, the brothers got into a skirmish with the Senones and killed the minor Chieftain.”

  “Are there any Gods or Goddesses not offended by your people?” Hektor inquired.

  Alerio ignored his impudence and continued.

  “The Fabius brothers were sent to negotiate peace but obviously failed. After the fighting, they returned to the Capital,” Alerio told him. “For breaking the diplomat’s compact, the Senate began proceedings against the three brothers.”

  “I have to assume they were punished,” Hektor remarked. “Or did they anger another deity?”

  “The Senate came close to convicting them, but the God of the Common people, Liber, united the Plebeians,” Alerio related. “The mob of common citizens convinced the Senate to forgive and even promote the Fabius brothers rather than punish them. At the end of the session, it wasn’t a God who became angry at the outcome. That honor went to the War Chief of the Senones tribes, Chieftain Brennus.”

  ***

  As they climbed, evergreen trees closed in on the trail, blocking the moonlight. On the closed in tunnel like path, the horses and donkey slowed.

  “It is really dark up here,” Hektor observed.

  “I take comfort in that,” Alerio told him. “The dark will prevent pursuit.”

  “Do you think they will come after us?” Hektor inquired. “Don’t answer. I really do not want to know. Tell me more about how you Latians enjoy angering the Gods.”

  “In another conversation, I would argue with philosophical logic to the contrary,” Alerio responded. “But seeing what happened next, I’ll allow you the argument.”

  “Tribune, what does that mean?” Hektor pleaded.

  “It means, you are right. It seemed all the Gods were angry with Rome,” Alerio told him. “Chieftain Brennus collected his army and moved towards the Capital. But the Senate wasn’t worried. Clusium and other towns along the route of march had mutual defense treaties with Rome. Counting on a gathering of tribes to fight the Senones, a Consul quickly organized a marching Legion. He herded them up the Tiber River to where the Allia river flowed into the Blond.”

  “The Republic has a white river?” Hektor inquired.

  “The waters flow a yellowish color from clay upriver,” Alerio described. “There is no mystery to the shade of the water, only to the levels and the strength of the current.”

  “This General Brennus, did he bring infantrymen to the battle?” Hektor asked.

  “It isn’t so important what he brought,” Alerio remarked. “It’s what the Legions did not bring. They failed to draft experienced Legionaries. Instead, they quickly gathered anyone with a shield. Remember, the Senate was expecting neighboring towns to send additional forces.”

  “From what you have hinted at,” Hektor offered, “I take it there were no reinforcements.”

  “Brennus, besides being an angry Gaul barbarian, understood terror and the benefit of rapid movement,” Alerio reported. “His advanced forces flooded into towns before the administrators or councils could react. Brennus offered to leave them in peace if they did not attack him. His complaint, he informed them, was with Rome and no one else. Being caught off guard by the swiftness of his forces, they stayed home.”

  “The Legion fielded inexperienced infantrymen,” Hektor tossed out. “Even so, heavy infantry is more than capable of holding the center of a line. The Silver Shields held in every battle regardless of the number of enemy forces.”

  “At the Allia river, the Republic General split his Centuries,” Alerio described. “He went heavy on his right flank, lighter in the center, and heavy again on the left. His tactic was to give in the center, lure Brennus between his wings, then closed in from the sides and behind. It was a good plan for experienced Legionaries with trained officers and hardened NCOs.”

  “How quickly did he chew through the center of the Legion line?” Hektor questioned.

  “An intelligent assumption,” Alerio acknowledged. “But he didn’t attack the center. In a brave move, Brennus turned his forces and attacked uphill into the left flank. The light center of the Legion line could not counter and force the Senones to fight. Brennus broke the flank sending the surviving Legionaries into the river. Many drowned in their armor. The ones who escaped, fled to the safety of neutral villages.”

  “From the left, he swept back, and came in on the side of the Legion center,” Hektor guessed.

  “Very good. He did and once he defeated the weak center, the right flank ran all the way back to Rome,” Alerio confirmed. “Unfortunately for the citizens, the Senone army was right on their tail. The Legion arrived and so did Brennus. His men came over the walls and through the gates. Most citizens fled the city. Caught unaware of the defeat, the Senate could only follow the remainder of the right flank up Capitoline Hill. They prayed at the trinity of temples and watched the Legionaries barricade the hill. Along with the Gods, they had on the hill a hero of the Republic. In command of the hill’s defenses was Senior Tribune Marcus Manlius a scarred veteran with a chest full of medals.”

  “He was like you,” Hektor suggested.

  “No. I am a Tribune and far from a senior staff officer,” Alerio admitted. “I think we have climbed high enough to avoid an early morning ambush. I’ll set up camp.”

  “But that is my job, Tribune Sisera,” Hektor protested.

  “If you can feed the animals, I’ll see to a fire and feeding us,” Alerio submitted.

  He guided them off the trail to a flat spot beside the road.

  “In my present state, I accept,” Hektor agreed.

  He screamed in pain when his feet hit the ground and his thigh took his weight. Alerio ignored the anguish. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the youth’s agony. But as Alerio said before, he had fought with worse injures and had survived.

  The food went down tasteless and in a rush. Shortly after eating, both Alerio and Hektor dropped into the arms of Morpheus. But the God of Dreams formed few visions for the exhausted travelers. And dawn came too soon.

  ***

  In the morning, Alerio was pleased with the behavior of the horses. Not that he wanted to get to Muğla slowly. It had to do with the livestock that traveled between the seaside town of Akyaka and the mountain town. The animals knew the steep trail and would not be rushed. Which meant, anyone attempting to catch him and Hektor would have to fight their mounts’ cautious gait to gain on them.

  “Finish the story, Tribune,” Hektor pleaded. “It helps me keep my mind off this leg.”

  “Alright. Brennus and his Senone army sacked Rome while the Senate remained on the hill,” Alerio described. “He attempted a few assaults. But Senior Tribune Marcus Manlius stood on the barricade with his Legionaries and threw the barbarians back each time. Finally, Brennus settled in for a siege. He sent his men off searching for supplies while he waited to starve out the Senators.”

  “What was the Legion doing while the Senones occupied their Capital?” Hektor inquired. “Because if I had a home, I would defend it to my death.”

  “They were actively defending against opportunistic raiders,” Alerio told him. “Large bands of warriors smelled blood like packs of wolves. The raiders came and Legion squads, acting on their own, ejected them from the city. In the chaos, a senior combat officer began pulling Centuries together. When Centurion Quintus Caedicius had enough to move on the besieged Capital, he looked around for an experienced Battle Commander.”

  “There is one, Senior Tribune Furius Camillus,” Hektor declared. “But you said he was in exile. Can he return?”

  “That was the problem facing Senior Centurion Caedicius,” Alerio confirmed. “He had Legionaries ready to fight but no one appointed by the Senate to guide the Legion. And so, he sent a courier to Capitoline Hill.”

  “Through the siege line?” Hektor questioned.

  “Not exactly,” Alerio corrected. “The courier knew a path hidden in the contour of Capitoline Hill. On a dark night, he scaled the cliff, located the Senate at the Temple of Jupiter. They voted and appointed Furius Camillus as the Battle Commander. Then, the courier slipped down the hill and raced to deliver the news to Senior Centurion Caedicius. The next day, Colonel Furius Camillus took command of the Legion.”

  “And the Battle Commander marched into Rome and broke the siege,” Hektor exclaimed. “Didn’t he?”