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

  “That’s a lovely little cottage down there,” Diana said, pointing to a small house down the hill to their right. She did not notice Artorius wince when she said that.

  “That’s Juliana’s old residence,” he replied.

  The last time he had been there was when he found Camilla’s body laid out on a bed, having died that very day. Diana knew about Camilla, as both had made certain to come clean about their pasts and avoid any unpleasant surprises. She knew that Camilla had passed away when Artorius was last in Rome, but not that she had been staying at the very cottage she now admired.

  Artorius took his wife by the hand and hurried her along. It was getting late, and the sun was starting to fade into the west, painting the sky in a last burst of crimson light. At least this time Primus and Juliana knew that their son was coming home and were expecting to see him. In his last letter home, Artorius had mentioned having a surprise for them, but did not mention his promotion to Centurion or his marriage to Lady Diana. They walked hand-in-hand as they approached the front of the villa that Artorius had been raised in. Juliana immediately rushed outside, embracing him hard, squealing and crying in joy.

  “My son, you’ve come home!” she said with emphasis, kissing him on the cheek. She was still as lovely as ever, that radiant smile that had ensnared his father. Her hair was graying in places, though like many Roman women she kept it colored. She then reached out and took Diana by both hands.

  “My lady, you are most welcome!” Juliana’s words puzzled Artorius, and he looked over at his wife, who leaned in and kissed Juliana on both cheeks.

  “Ave, Mother!”

  Diana and Juliana shared an embrace while Artorius stood dumbfounded.

  “What?” Diana asked, turning to her husband. “You’re not the only one who writes letters home. Oh, sorry, was I supposed to be a surprise?” She smiled and stuck her tongue out at him. He could only laugh and shake his head. A commotion was heard inside and his father, Primus, limped out, holding on to his walking stick. Artorius was concerned that his father’s gait had worsened from the last time he had seen him. His gray hair was not colored like his wife’s, and he was considerably thinner. Still, he looked happy and full of life, something that relieved his son. He stumbled down the short step and surprised Diana by embracing her hard.

  “Daughter!” he said, laughing. “It is an honor to welcome you to the family!” He then placed an arm around her shoulder, and Artorius could not help but notice that Diana was slightly taller than his father. The old farmer then took her into the house, his voice carrying on about how he would show her the vineyards later.

  “I’m glad to see him so full of life,” Artorius said as he and Juliana remained on the porch.

  “Don’t think that he’s not happy to see you,” his stepmother replied, arms folded as she turned and gazed down the path.

  Off to their right, into the west, the sun was setting behind the hills, the sky in the east deepening to purple with the coming of night. Artorius breathed deeply through his nose, remembering the sights and smells that he loved so much. The sweet smell of grapes always reminded him of home.

  “I know,” he replied with a smile. “I admit I was surprised that Diana had already written to you. I had hoped to surprise you both, but it doesn’t matter. How is Father’s health? He doesn’t look like he walks too well anymore.”

  “He doesn’t,” Juliana replied with a sad shake of her head.

  In the distance, well behind the house, they could hear Primus’ boisterous voice as he showed Diana his fields of grapes.

  “He turns fifty-six this summer, and yet I can’t help but feel that his years are beyond the chronological reckoning.”

  “Things happen that can age someone, I know” Artorius replied as he started to walk back down the road. It was good to talk to Juliana alone. He used to go to her for counsel after his mother died. She had been like a mother to him ever since he was nine, and yet it wasn’t until ten years later that his father finally married her.

  “You’ve been through much in your lifetime, too,” Juliana observed, linking her arm with his in the same manner that Primus had with Diana. “You suffered through the same tragedies that he did, and you have seen much since you left for the legions. Yet for all that, you look as though you haven’t aged a day.”

  “Just lucky I suppose,” Artorius shrugged, bringing a laugh from his stepmother. “I tell myself everyday that I will never grow old, even if I live to be ninety!”

  “I’m glad to see you have found one who keeps you young,” she replied, her smile never leaving her face.

  “I would never say this in so many words to anyone else, but Diana is the light of my life. The entire concept of ‘family’ is still a loss to me. I know that one is supposed to marry someone of good birth who can provide us with heirs. For whatever reason, I have never cared about that. Some say that life on the frontiers de-Romanizes us and makes us more like the barbarians we fight and live beside.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, your father only cares that you found someone who makes you happy.”

  Juliana’s words were reassuring. Part of him thought that perhaps his father would be disappointed that he had married one who could not have children. Of course, she also brought much wealth, as well a strong family name. Artorius mentioned this to Juliana.

  “Enjoy the trappings that come with being part of the Proculeius family,” she replied, “though I know that had nothing to do with why you pursued Diana the way you did.”

  “To be honest, I have no idea what drew me to her in the first place,” Artorius replied. “I think at first it was a simple infatuation, and in part because she was unattainable. It was a challenge. Over time, we grew close. And, of course, there is nothing like a crisis and the threat of death to make one appreciate what one has!” He gave a dark laugh and shook his head. He had told his parents in a letter about the terror that Heracles and the remnants of the Sacrovir Revolt had wrecked upon the city of Lugdunum. He had even saved Diana’s life during a raid on the Proculus estate. He often wondered, if not for those horrific events, would he and Diana have ever ended up together.

  Chapter X: A People Apart

  The House of Proculeius, Rome

  May, 26 A.D.

  ***

  “Life for me has completely changed, old friend,” Pilate said as he and Artorius walked through the gardens surrounding the Proculeius estate. It was a warm evening, and Pilate took a moment to kneel down and run his fingers through the current of a man made stream that bordered the garden.

  “I heard about your appointment to Judea,” Artorius replied. “That’s fantastic news!”

  “I suppose,” Pilate replied with a sigh.

  Artorius furrowed his brow as his friend continued to sit and let the cool water caress his hand. Artorius clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at the ground, guessing at what bothered the Tribune.

  “Look, if you are hoping to ever get another assignment back to the legions, forget about it,” he said after a brief silence. “You did your time on the line…too much time according to some. Now you’re getting one of only two provinces in the whole of the Empire that allows one of the Equestrian Class to be a governor.”

  “True,” Pilate conceded. “Most of my class would kill to be in my position. Being Procurator of Judea will give me much in the way of opportunity, both politically and economically. Still, do you know why the Senatorial Class allows us to have this province, and why they don’t give it to one of their own?”

  Artorius shrugged and shook his head.

  “It is because Judea is among the most volatile provinces in the entire Empire,” Pilate explained. “Few governors even complete the minimum three-year commitment. The Jews are a strange and violent people. They have a staunch ally in the Emperor, and yet they are not even grateful for his patronage! They seem to think that all they have is because their god has given it to them. They think that the lands of Judea are
their gift from God…although I’m not sure if I would praise any deity that gave my people such a desolate place!”

  His last remark elicited a short laugh from Artorius.

  Pilate was serious once more as he continued. “Did you know they are the only people within the Roman Empire that are exempt from having to worship the Roman Pantheon? In our society, religion is viewed as a very personal matter. Every citizen is allowed to worship any gods he chooses in whatever fashion he sees fit; as long as he also pays homage to the gods of Rome and acknowledges the divinity of the Emperors. The Jews are the only people that are allowed to be truly monotheistic. They would have you believe it is because their god is greater than all. In truth, it is because Herod Agrippa is a close friend of the Emperor, almost like a son to him. Hell, Herod was a lifelong friend of the Emperor’s son, Drusus, may the gods rest him.”

  “Then by his mercy and tolerance the Emperor is in fact inciting discord,” Artorius added. “If the people are never forced to assimilate, then how can they ever be Roman?”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Pilate concurred as they approached a large, ornate pond, complete with a six-foot waterfall.

  Artorius watched the fish swimming in circles at the base of the waterfall as Pilate continued.

  “Gauls, Germans, Spaniards, Greeks, and even Egyptians all have become part of Roman society. They understand that being Roman is not a matter of race or ethnicity; it is about becoming a part of something greater than ourselves. Those bloody Jews don’t get it, and they never will.” He took a small stone and skipped it across the pond, scattering fish to emphasize his point.

  “I swear they are all racists!” Pilate continued. “Rome conquered Judea, yet they dare to look down at us. Anyone not a Jew is scum of the earth to them. The only group of people I know of who are even more racist is the damn Senate here in Rome!”

  “Of that there is no doubt,” Artorius agreed. “When Julius Caesar tried to give Gallic nobles membership into the Senate, it almost caused a riot. Hell, the Sacrovir Revolt was caused, in part, because of this!”

  “If I am racist,” Pilate explained, “it has nothing to do with the color of a man’s skin or where he was born. To me, there are only two types of people; Romans and non-Romans. If a man is a Roman, I care not whether he is Italian, Greek, Syrian, or a black from Morocco. All citizens are Romans! Yet the Judeans don’t even view themselves as citizens of this great Empire.”

  “Have you spoken to the Emperor about your concerns?” Artorius asked.

  Pilate nodded and scowled.

  “As a matter of fact, I have. Tiberius is rather funny when it comes to the Jews. He told me to use prudence when dealing with their sensibilities. This, coming from a man who ordered Germanicus to exterminate an entire race!”

  Artorius winced at the last remark.

  “Yes, I was there for that,” Artorius replied with a scowl of his own. The visions were still clear as the day they happened in his mind. He remembered wiping out entire villages and murdering all within, regardless of age or gender.

  Pilate’s face suddenly brightened.

  “You know, I just realized that this August will be ten years since Idistaviso!” The Tribune seemed happy to talk about anything other than the troublesome Jews he would soon have to try and govern over.

  Artorius then recalled that his friend’s experience in Germania had been different than his. Pilate had commanded the Army of the Rhine’s artillery and had not taken part in the close quarters combat. There was no mistaking Pilate’s valor, though his perspective was understandably shielded, since most of his work had been done launching deadly projectiles at the enemy from the scorpion ballistae and onager catapults from several hundred meters away. He had never stabbed someone through the heart and watched them die with their eyes wide in terror; let alone a mother who only wished to protect her child or the child who was too young to understand why he had to die.

  “I cannot believe I could have forgotten such an important anniversary!” Pilate said, rather elated.

  Artorius knew that Idistaviso was indeed an important victory for Rome, as it culminated the end of the wars against the traitor Arminius and the Germanic alliance. The mass murder of the innocents at Angrivari was little more than a punitive action after the war had been won.

  “And oddly enough, both sides claimed victory,” Artorius conjectured. “The Germans had Teutoburger Wald seven years before, and we had Idistaviso. I’ve sometimes wondered which one history will remember.”

  “Since we write the history books, I would think Idistaviso,” Pilate scoffed. “The loss of three legions in Teutoburger Wald was indeed tragic, but you cannot tell me we didn’t avenge them.”

  “There’s no doubt about that,” Artorius conceded as he threw a rock into the pond before both men continued on. “Still, we have yet to re-cross the Rhine and take back the lands that were lost. We paid back in blood the loss of Roman life, yet the lands east of the Rhine still belong to the barbarians. I wonder if history will forgive that.”

  It would be time soon, time to leave the infernal city forever. For all the Senate and people knew, the Emperor was simply going on an extended holiday. Even Tiberius wondered if he was, in fact, leaving Rome forever, but then he steeled himself to his task. Even Livia did not know when he was leaving. Instead, the Empress dowager would wake in the morning to find her son gone and she practically alone in the imperial palace.

  The traffic was busy during the night, as was usual. Since Roman law prohibited anything other than pedestrians to move throughout the city during the daytime, any form of wheeled transport had to move during the hours of darkness. This made Rome a city that never truly slept, and also made any real form of secrecy for the Emperor impossible. A cohort of the Praetorian Guard had cleared the streets leading to the harbor at Ostia. Such a large presence of the Emperor’s personal bodyguard made his movements known. Another entire cohort acted as his escort, and they would accompany him to Capri. Sejanus sat across from him in a large, covered litter carried by a dozen slaves.

  “Don’t you even want to look upon the city one last time?” the Prefect asked as they rode in silence down the Appian Way. Soon they would reach the crossroads that would lead them to the port city just outside Rome.

  “Why bother?” the Emperor replied with a scowl. “I know it’s still there, even though I wish it would just vanish into oblivion some days. To tell the truth, Sejanus, I don’t know why the gods mock me and let me linger on so long. I swear they despise me!”

  “The gods preserve you because there is no one else able to rule the world,” Sejanus replied smoothly. “Were something to happen to you, the Empire would fall into chaos.”

  “Then the gods did a poor job of planning for the future,” Tiberius retorted. “They should never have taken my son from me! I confess that I have cared about very little since Drusus died. I persevere out of a sense of duty alone.”

  Sejanus stayed quiet as the Emperor went on about his late son. Though both had done their best to serve Tiberius, the Praetorian Prefect and Drusus Julius Caesar had been hateful enemies. On more than one occasion the Imperial Prince had physically accosted him. Sejanus reluctantly admitted to himself that he had possibly overplayed his hand when he had asked Tiberius for the hand of Livilla, Drusus’ widow, in marriage. Tiberius never even suspected that Sejanus and Livilla had been lovers for some time. Still, in what was one of the only instances where he went against his Praetorian Prefect, the Emperor had denied Sejanus’ request, stating that to ask such a thing so soon after Livilla was made a widow was in very poor taste.

  Sejanus had quickly apologized for overstepping his bounds and had never broached the subject again, much to Livilla’s chagrin. Tiberius was hardly a young man anymore; in fact, he had been fifty-five when he became Caesar twelve years before. How much longer could he possibly linger? But then, the Emperor was in annoyingly good health, no doubt kept robust by his years in the legions during the reign
of Augustus. The Prefect then sighed as Tiberius went on about his son, who he had practically ignored when he was alive.

  At least he doesn’t know, Sejanus thought to himself.

  Artorius was looking forward to seeing Magnus’ family. He had only briefly met his oldest brother, Oleg, and that was right after Camilla’s death when he wasn’t in the best frame of mind. He had never met Magnus’ father, Svend, or his other brother, Hansi, who served as an oarsman in the Roman Navy.

  Svend had done well for himself as the owner of a textile mill that Oleg now ran for him. His house, though not quite as large as the patrician villas that dotted the Esquiline Hill, was still quite spacious. As Artorius and Diana approached the large, ornate door, it was hastily thrown open from inside, and a number of servants spilled out, as if running in terror.

  “They’ve gone mad!” one shouted as a loud crash echoed from within. Diana stood with her mouth open and Artorius with an eyebrow cocked, as what looked like two men wrestling, fell over a table in the atrium. The larger of the two, whom they suspected to be Magnus, was picked up and carried quickly out the door. The man carrying the Norseman stumbled, and they both fell into the fish pond with a loud splash. This did not stop either of them, as both threw fists and knees at each other while the fish scattered and servants cowered. Finally the one man stood and tried to kick Magnus in the side.

  “Eighty-eight years old and I can still boot your sissy backside!”

  “Who is that?” Diana asked in a low whisper, gripping her husband’s arm.

  Artorius let out a soft chuckle.

  “I forget, you’ve never met Mad Olaf,” he replied. The old Nordic warlord and former Auxilia Centurion splashed around as he turned to see who had mentioned his name.