Soldier of Rome: The Centurion (The Artorian Chronicles) Read online

  As she walked past the wine racks, running her fingers over the various jugs and bottles, she thought about Claudia’s letter, and their pending trip to Rome. She was very much looking forward to seeing her sister, as well as the rest of her family. She had not seen her father in over a decade, not since the passing of her poor mother. He had since married a young woman who Diana vaguely remembered from her youth as being equally beautiful as she was devoid of brains or personality.

  There was another reason why she was anxious to leave Cologne; at least for a short time. It stemmed from Artorius’ long nights at the Century as of late. He tried to keep the stresses of his profession from her, though she appreciated that, if asked directly he would always answer her truthfully. It was that open honesty they shared that kept the bonds of trust between them strong. She knew the pressure that was being placed upon him lately, which was made worse by the loss of…what was it? She thought he had said he was losing almost a third of his men to retirement, yet he still had the same duties and requirements as before, with no prospective recruits to fill the vacancies. Her husband needed a furlough, and a trip to Rome would be just what was needed.

  The hours passed, and it was well after midnight. Neither Artorius nor Nathaniel had returned. Diana let out a sigh and carefully lit a lamp that she kept next to their bed for nights such as this. Her maidservant came to her with her cloak as Proximo held the door open for her.

  “Thank you, Proximo,” Diana said as she lit the lamp and walked out into the night. “I may not be back this evening.”

  Proximo simply bowed in understanding.

  It was but a mile from her manor house to the gates of the fortress. The moon was almost full, and bright, negating her need for the lamp. Her reason for keeping it was to clearly identify her face to passersby, particularly guardsmen or patrolling legionaries. She saw one such patrol of six men marching in step down the street.

  “Ma’am,” the Decanus said with a courteous nod as she passed. Though she could not see the soldier’s face nor recognize his voice, she was certain he knew who she was. Everyone in Cologne knew Lady Diana Procula. It was a bit unnerving having almost no sense of anonymity whatsoever. Yet it also made her feel safe knowing that more than ten thousand legionaries stood ready to protect her from any harm that villainous types would wish upon her.

  The fortress was an imposing sight in the light of the moon. It was huge, seeing as how it housed two entire legions. While the city of Cologne flourished in its wake, the fortress was a city in itself. The round towers on either side of the gate each housed a pair of Scorpion ballistae and she could see the silhouettes of legionaries slowly pacing the ramparts. Ironically, the intimidation of the fortress was more for appearance sake than actual defensibility. Though there was no doubt that it could repel even the most determined assaults, the Roman army was an offensive force. Were a threat to emerge, the legions would spill forth like a stirred up hornets’ nest and attack the threat head-on, rather than hiding behind the fortress walls. Tall torches were stuck in the ground leading up to the gate, where a pair of legionaries stood.

  “Evening, my lady,” one of the men said. He stepped into the torchlight and Diana recognized his face.

  “Why good evening to you, Carbo,” she replied with a smile. “I didn’t think I’d see a familiar face on duty.”

  The legionary gave a shrug. “Usually only happens about once a month. Between both legions there are plenty of men available for this sort of duty. This night just happened to by my turn. You looking for the Centurion?”

  Diana nodded with a smile.

  Though Carbo had been in the legions longer than Artorius and had been his friend for over eleven years, he almost never referred to him by his name. He then nodded his head towards the inside of the fortress. “He’s here; you know where to find him. I don’t think he left the Century office all day, which we all know makes him very irritable.”

  Diana gave a short laugh and started to walk inside when the legionary blocked the way with his javelin.

  “Sorry, my lady, but you know the rules.” Diana took a deep breath through her nose, as her face bore a guilty expression. She then sighed and pulled her cloak back, revealing her gladius.

  The other legionary gasped at the sight. Ten thousand men may have been available for her protection, but Diana did not like taking any chances, nor did her husband. She was unusually strong for a woman, and Artorius had taught her to fight very effectively. She unstrapped the weapon and handed it to Carbo, who then handed it to the other legionary.

  “Here, tag this,” he said to the man. “Mark it Lady Diana Procula…oh, and on the other side write Centurion Titus Artorius. That’ll keep anyone from fucking with it…beg your pardon, my lady. Forgive my loose tongue.”

  Diana simply laughed and shook her head as she passed through the gate.

  “Never thought I’d say this about a woman,” the other legionary said after returning from the guardhouse, “but our Lady Diana frightens me a bit.”

  Even at night, Diana still knew her way through the fortress. Pairs of legionaries walked the streets on patrol, while the occasional off duty soldier wandered about. Diana found the Third Cohort’s Second Century easily enough and could see a faint glow coming from the Century’s office. It was empty and dark, though she could see light coming from the connecting Centurion’s office. She pushed open the door and walked into the room, which smelled of wine and sweaty bodies. She extinguished her lamp as the one in the room gave off a soft glow. The slave, Nathaniel, was curled up in the corner, fast asleep. It looked like someone had thrown a blanket over him. At the Centurion’s desk were three men. Optio Praxus sat with his hands in his lap somehow still balancing a goblet, chin on his chest, snoring loudly. Diana marveled that Praxus always bore a look of total contentment on his face that never went away. Rufio, the Signifier, was leaning back in his chair, making small gurgling sounds, mouth wide open, and a small stream of drool running out of the corner. And lying face first with his head resting on his hands was her husband, the immortal Centurion himself. There were three empty wine jugs on the floor, including the one Nathaniel had brought.

  “Hmm, so one jug of our best vintage wasn’t enough,” Diana remarked with a slight grin. She walked over and gently shook Nathaniel awake. The slave was startled and bolted to his feet, making ready to string forth numerous apologies for something he figured he must have done.

  “Shh,” Diana whispered, holding a finger to her lips. “Go home, Nathaniel. I will take care of the master.”

  The slave started to protest, but immediately stayed silent. Though he felt bound to stay by his master no matter what, he dared not question the Lady Diana. She leaned over, resting one hand on the desk while gently rubbing Artorius’ back. It was the best way she knew to wake him without startling him. Even in his drunken subconscious he knew her touch and slowly sat upright. He gave a weak smile through half closed eyes, as she smiled in return and placed her arms around his waist, grunting with the effort of hoisting him up.

  “Come on, Centurion,” she said quietly, half carrying him into the Centurion’s quarters. Since moving in with her, his bed was almost never used and the room had been little more than a place for him to store his military equipment. Still, the bed was neatly made, and Diana pulled the blankets back and laid him down. She struggled to get him out of his tunic, and then removing her own stola she lay down next to him, her arm draped across his chest, as she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.

  Chapter IX: A Better Journey Home

  ***

  The port of Ostia looked unchanged since the last time Artorius had been home. The docks were a bustle of activity, with ships coming and going, and dock workers feverishly loading and unloading cargo bound for various destinations. Yells and curses flowed in the background, with the occasional crack of a whip. The loaded and unloaded cargo seemed to be all mixed together and he could not fathom how anyone made sense of it all. Many of the cra
tes looked identical, and he wondered how any could ever make it to their intended destinations. Diana stood with him on the rail of the ship, her hand clutching his.

  Artorius was not the only Centurion to take this trip to Rome. Vitruvius had also been friends with Pontius Pilate and had received an invitation as well. His wife was seven months pregnant and regrettably unable to make the voyage. Artorius had stated that Vitruvius and Praxus had been “busy” at the same time, since Praxus’ lover was also expecting their child at around the same time. Indeed, the only other wife to join Lady Diana was Svetlana. It had come as a bit of a surprise to some that she and Valens had gotten an invitation. After all, Tribunes did not make pleasantries, let alone friendships, with lowly legionaries. But then, those who knew Valens’ history remembered that it was Pilate who had saved him from a terrible beating at the hands of the Emperor’s former sister-in-law, Agrippina, when Valens had been caught in bed with one of her maidservants many years previously. Svetlana, being as adventurous as her husband, found the story a source of amusement.

  Other men of rank had been invited, though most had been forced to decline. In all, less than half of those invited from the Twentieth Legion would be able to come. Pilate would understand though; the life of the legions still continued, and somebody had to maintain order on the frontier.

  “A pity that Macro and Statorius could not come,” Diana observed as she joined her husband on the rail of the ship. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply the fresh sea breeze.

  “Politics and the life of the legions do that,” Artorius replied. “At least Proculus was able to get away.”

  Diana turned towards him, her eyebrow cocked.

  “He bloody well better have!” she replied forcefully. “He is my cousin, and with no wars to fight I cannot imagine anything so important on the frontier to keep him away from taking part in the wedding of one whom he practically raised!”

  “Ah yes,” Artorius remembered, “his daughter Valeria is the same age as Claudia.”

  Diana nodded and smiled as she thought back to when her sister was a little girl.

  “They spent so much time together. Being ten years older, I did not spend as much time with them as I would have liked.”

  As the ship docked, Artorius longed to feel land under his feet once more. He was a bit wobbly at first, never having handled sea travel well. Diana seemed to handle it better than he, and she quickly took him by the hand and helped steady him. As he stood for a moment regaining his legs, he felt Vitruvius smack him hard on the shoulder, catching his attention and nearly knocking him off his still unsteady legs.

  “I’ve sent servants ahead to find us suitable quarters in Rome. Meantime, I think we are going to refresh ourselves at the nearest tavern. You joining us?”

  Artorius shook his head at his Cohort Commander’s question.

  “Would love to, but my lady and I have someplace else to be.” He took Diana’s hand as he spoke.

  Vitruvius caught both of their smiles and then remembered that this was Artorius’ home.

  “Of course,” he replied with a nod. “I forget myself sometimes. Well, if you want to send your servant, Nathaniel, with mine, I’m sure he can find you suitable accommodations.”

  Artorius nodded in reply and turned to Nathaniel, who was at his side. The slave gave a short bow and left with Vitruvius’ manservant.

  While everyone else was getting settled in their housing in Rome, Artorius and Diana had another trip to make. His last trip home had been a sad one, and Artorius was determined that this one would be different. Though it was a few miles to his father’s house, he and Diana elected to walk instead of procuring a wagon. He had given directions to Proximo, with explicit instructions to wait at least a couple hours before leaving the docks once they secured a place to stay. Artorius wanted some private time with his family without being assailed by the details of handling both servants and baggage.

  The situation would prove worse than even Tabbo had feared. Tribute was normally collected during the first part of spring, and the Frisians had already sent off their cattle hides for the year’s payment. Olennius had sent word that additional resources would be necessary to cover the administrative costs of his tenure. A taxman pounded a nail into the notice on the mead hall door before walking away. Tabbo, who knew how to read, scowled as he read the latest edict from the Roman magistrate.

  “What does it say?” a young woman asked him as he spat and turned away in disgust.

  “It says that in addition to ox hides we must now supply the magistrate with a ration from our corn and grain supplies.”

  “But we barely grow enough to support our families and animals as it is!” a farmer protested as he slammed the butt of his scythe into the dirt. “We won’t have enough to eat, let alone maintain our lands and livestock!”

  “I know,” Tabbo said quietly as he walked briskly over to the King’s hall.

  Dibbald knew why the war chief had come, for he, too, had seen the edict. A copy of it was crumpled in his hand.

  “I know why you’re here,” the King said, raising a hand before Tabbo could speak. “This Roman has gone too far. I have already sent three riders with messages telling of our plight; one to the Governor General, another to the Senate, and one to the Emperor himself. If the governor or Senate does nothing, I know that the Emperor will!”

  “You put a lot of faith in Tiberius,” Tabbo replied, still burning with anger at the situation. He would rather Dibbald had dealt with Olennius himself. The fact that a sovereign king would have to defer to the Roman government infuriated him.

  “I know Tiberius,” Dibbald replied. “I served with him during the Conquest of Raetia more than forty years ago. We were both very young then. It was his brother, Drusus Nero, who brought our people into the fold of the Empire. A number of our people had joined an alliance of Germanic tribes and raided into Gaul, only to be routed by Drusus and driven back across the Rhine. My father felt it best to accept the deal brokered by Drusus. The tribute was nominal, and the protection offered by the legions allowed our people to prosper in peace without threat of attack from our ever hostile neighbors.”

  “And one man seeks to undermine all of that!” Tabbo snapped. “Olennius abuses his post and threatens to unleash the legions on us if we do not comply.”

  “The elders of our people remember what happened the last time Roman soldiers marched on our lands. The legions cannot be defeated in open battle.”

  “The Cherusci did it,” Tabbo countered, referring to the ambush in Teutoburger Wald that had destroyed three legions seventeen years before.

  “Yes, but Arminius also had an alliance of twelve nations on his side,” Dibbald replied. “We have no such allies here, particularly after we dispatched warriors to fight against the Germanic Alliance during the invasion by Drusus’ son, Germanicus Caesar.”

  “So we must rely on the Emperor to save our people,” Tabbo acknowledged, nodding his head in resignation. He then looked his King in the face again. “I will find a way for us to beat the Romans, just in case your messengers should fail us. The gods have mercy on us.”

  Lourens accompanied Tabbo to the Roman drill field outside the Flevum fort. The war chief and master of horse sat on the hill, watching as two centuries drilled together. Olbert had joined them, and though he still scoffed at some of the Romans’ tactics, he studied them in silence. Tabbo sat with his chin in his hand, watching the legionaries; Lourens looked awestruck. Frisia had not sent any cavalry to fight during the Germanic wars and he had never seen the Romans fight. He watched the men formed up into four ranks, and though he could not understand the commands shouted by the Centurions, his eyes grew wide as each rank unleashed a storm of javelins in rapid succession. Since each man carried a pair, eight volleys were unleashed before the soldiers unsheathed their gladii with a loud shout. Lourens shook his head in disbelief as he saw the ground littered with javelins.

  “An entire wave of our warriors would be cut d
own with each volley,” he said quietly.

  “Their weight gives them extra penetrating power,” Tabbo added, his eyes still fixed on the legionaries. “You’ll notice the metal shafts at the end are pliable and bend upon impact. A simple, yet effective tactic; it makes it so that their javelins cannot be thrown back at them, and any shields that they penetrate will be rendered useless.”

  “So how do we counter this?”

  “We don’t,” Tabbo replied.

  Lourens shook his head and looked down at the ground.

  The war chief looked back at him and gave a crooked smile. “Don’t worry; your cavalry will be safe enough from what you have seen. I cannot see the King wasting your men so recklessly against that. Besides, you will have your own problems to deal with.”

  “You’re referring to Indus’ Horse,” Lourens observed.

  Tabbo nodded while studying the legionaries, who were now battling a mock foe and executing rapid passages-of-lines.

  “The Romans rely heavily on their infantry,” Tabbo continued. “Their cavalry are few, though regrettably ours are even less. Your regiment of the household cavalry is really all we have to speak of. And while I mean no disrespect to your own valor, you had best hope that you never have to face Julius Indus in open battle.”

  “They can be beaten,” Olbert said at last. “I know they can! We are smarter than they are, and it is our home we will be defending. We know the land, they do not. We must find a way to use that to our advantage.”

  “You are finally learning, my friend,” Tabbo replied with a partial grin, “You are finally learning.”

  Artorius tried to drive the memories of his last journey home from his mind as he and Diana walked up the now paved road towards his father’s house. It had been little more than a dirt path since he could remember, but now it was paved with flat stones all the way to where his father and stepmother lived.