Barry Sadler - The Eternal Mercenary

The sun of Greece continued to burn him darker and darker. Only his scars showed up in lighter color. While he worked his mouth was set in the semi-smirk that the whore's knife had left on him long ago.

The day passed. The endless worm of slaves continued to feed on itself until the whistle of the pit overseer sounded the shift change.

Casca returned to his barracks and waited his turn at the troughs where he could wash off the day's dirt. Then, alone, he ate his last meal of the day, lentil soup with just the hint of the taste of goat in it. And then, again, alone, he sat outside the barracks listening to the old men inside discuss the ways of the world and their viewpoints concerning the relative importance of the scheme of things. Casca savored this time to himself and waited for Minitre.

He let his eyes search the heavens while the cool air of the Mediterranean wafted over him. The constellation known as the Pleiades was clearly visible. After the years of being chained to somebody the luxury of being alone was something to be savored in full.

The bobbing form of Minitre came in sight on the trail leading down to the barracks. The chubby man wheezed his way up the small grade, sighted Casca, and waved. "Vale, soldier," he called softly and motioned for Casca to follow him.

Lucius led them to a clearing far enough away from the barracks that there would be no chance of their being overheard.

"Listen to me," Lucius whispered. The excitement in his voice was contagious. "It's all set."

Casca started to interrupt, but Lucius waved him silent. "Let me finish. Day after tomorrow you will be assigned to the detail going into Cenchrea to bring back supplies. Also, the governor will be in town at the same time. He goes there every few days to spend some time with his mistress. He leaves early-but not as early as we will-and gets to Cenchrea just before midday. When he gets to his whore's house, thugs will jump him in a robbery attempt, but they will be foiled by the efforts of a valiant former legionary who comes to the rescue and saves the governor's precious skin. There. Do you like it?"

Casca mused over it for a moment. "It's a simple and direct enough plan, Lucius, but what about the thieves I'm supposed to fight? Do I really fight them, or is it all just a setup?"

Minitre fairly simpered. "You fight them, you great hulk, and I hope you kill all of them. These are the ones who clipped me out of a month's pay with crooked dice, and if you knew the hell my wife put me through, you would kill them as slowly as possible. This is my chance to get even. They think I am doing this for part of the vast sum of money I told them the governor would have in his purse. By all means take out your frustrations from the last fifty or sixty years on them, my friend. I will arrange for you to be near the whore's house when the governor visits her. Leave the details to me. Er… On second thought, make sure you kill all the thieves. It wouldn't do for any of them to talk about me afterwards."

Casca nodded. "Exactly how many of your former friends will I have to kill, Lucius?"

Minitre laughed. "Only three, soldier, only three…"

Minitre left Casca to his thoughts and started home to his wife and squalling brats, a prospect that dampened his enthusiasm considerably. Casca doesn't know what it is to suffer. He should live with the burden I have for a while. By Hydra's nine heads, that woman's tongue could make these Greek goats give cheese instead of milk. If only she wasn't so much bigger than me I would give her a sound thrashing and gentle her. He chuckled to himself. I wonder if I could talk her into being in on the robbery? He laughed out loud at the thought. Casca would have his hands full with her.

The next day seemed to drag interminably. When it was finally over, and all Casca had to wait through was the night, that, too, seemed to stretch out forever. But then it was predawn, and he was taken out and fed and put into a line with thirty other slaves for the four-hour march to Cenchrea. The overseer doing the most shouting as they formed up was Minitre. Their escort was a squad of overage legionnaires who were waiting on their retirements to come through. The soldiers weren't too bad and didn't give anyone a hard time as long as there wasn't any trouble.

The day broke cool at first, giving the body a chill. But that soon passed as the sun rose. Casca noticed the signs of Greece's past glory in the ruins along the line of march. How old were these ruins? How many centuries had passed since these places were abandoned? What of all the people who had walked in the magnificent halls and courts that these ruined stones had been? Gone… all gone! He wondered to himself if he would live long enough to see the same thing happen to the greatness that was Rome.

The smell of Cenchrea reached them before the sight of the port. The wind was right, and the salt scent of the sea and the pungent odor of drying fish assailed their nostrils a full half hour before they saw the whitewashed walls of the city and the ships lying at anchor in her harbor. There was nothing special about Cenchrea. It looked the same as any other town on the Mediterranean coast. White buildings with tile roofs were predominant, but there were a few larger private homes on the hillside where the local merchants lived.

When they reached the harbor, Lucius turned the other slaves over to the harbor master's assistant, but he kept Casca with him on the pretext of needing him to carry packages of items for the governor's house.

The two made their way through the winding street to the residence of Crespas's mistress. Taking Casca to the shadowed side of the street, Lucius sat with his back to the thoroughfare so that none could see his face. "Watch for a tall man with thinning hair and a staff of black wood," Lucius told Casca. "That will be the governor. The thieves will be close on to him when you see him." Minitre indicated the direction from which the governor would come.

The two waited in the shadows, eating cheese in small nibbles as men were wont to do early in the day before going to work. Nothing unusual about them… except perhaps the thickness of Casca's arms. But who would notice? It was a good plan, and Casca felt comfortable with it.

They waited.

Then there he was.

Crespas the governor.

He was walking surely and confidently, with long strides, over the cobblestoned street, his black wood cane clicking on every other step. As Casca watched the governor approach he also saw the movement of others in the shadows of the buildings opposite him. Gathering himself together, he prepared for the assault on Crespas. Minitre saw the tensing and nodded.

Then it happened.

The thugs ran out of the alleyway and threw themselves on Crespas. The governor yelled, "Thieves!" and quickly the thieves learned that the black cane was for more than looks as he brained one with the knobbed end and was swinging on another when the larger of the thieves leapt on his back and dragged him to the ground. "Help! Help!" he cried.

But before the larger thief could drive his blade into the back of the downed governor, a vise-like grip clamped around his wrist and pulled him up. The man snarled like a dog. "Get away," he hissed. "This is none of your business." Casca grinned a death's head leer at the man and raised him clear off the ground. The thief's comrade, a ratty little man with a fish odor, started forward to help, but the black cane of Crespas knocked the little bastard back into the wall of a house. Casca raised the larger thief overhead until his arms were fully extended. The thief cried for mercy and begged to be put down. Casca laughed deep inside himself until it burst forth in a roar. "Put you down? Aye, that I will, you piece of slime." And saying this, he dropped the man's back onto his neck, putting one arm around the thief s throat and the other one over his upper thighs. The thief s spine rested on the knotted muscles of Casca's neck. "I'll let you go," Casca said-and pressed down with his arms. The great muscles of his chest swelling, he took one deep breath and heaved. The thief gave one quick, short cry as the sound of his spine snapping broke through the air like a pine branch exploding in a fire. The man was dead before he hit the ground.