Soldier of Rome: The Sacrovir Revolt (The Artorian Chronicles) Read online

  “And let us not forget, half-sister to your beloved ex-wife,” Agrippina’s eyes narrowed, her loathing for the Emperor caused her to tread recklessly into dangerous territory.

  Tiberius clenched his jaw. It was no secret he still loved Vipsania deeply, even after all these years apart. It made things awkward from the beginning between him and Agrippina, given that he had been forced to divorce her sister in order to marry her mother. Vipsania’s health was failing, and Tiberius loathed the fact that Agrippina would use her own sister in order to hurt him.

  “What do you want?” he asked coldly. “Surely you did not come all the way out here to incite further discord between us.”

  “I want justice, real justice. Not some pompous ceremonial garbage that will mean nothing in the end. My husband died serving you. It is only fitting that all the conspirators face the penalty for their crimes, whoever they are.” Her tone did nothing to disguise her accusation.

  “And you think by badgering me, by showing yourself to be a belligerent snake, that you are helping your cause?” Tiberius whipped back, but Agrippina only hardened in her resolve.

  “I know about Livia’s dealings with Plancina. I know you will be willing to sacrifice the husband to popular demand, only to allow your mother to save the wife who is the guilty bitch.”

  “Germanicus’ murder is but one of the charges against Piso,” Tiberius replied. “Though I doubt very much the crime of sedition, inciting rebellion, as well as the wrongful deaths of Roman soldiers, is of any concern to you. All are being tried, and all will face justice.”

  “All?” Agrippina asked with an eyebrow raised.

  Tiberius leaned forward; his face to hers until his nose was only inches away. “Take caution, Agrippa’s daughter!” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Your grandfather left me to run the affairs of this Empire, not Germanicus, and certainly not you! I will take your less than cordial remarks and blame them on your grief. But do not try my patience again!” With that he turned and walked away, fighting to keep his rage under control.

  Drusus took a deep breath while standing outside the door to his father’s office. It was rare for the Emperor to ask for him with such urgency, though in this circumstance he was almost certain as to why he had. Agrippina told everyone about her confrontation with Tiberius, and it did not sit well with Drusus. He did not condone all of his father’s conduct in regards to the trial, but he could not believe he had a hand in Germanicus’ death. It just did not make any sense. Germanicus had been loyal, and Tiberius viewed him as a worthy successor when he had gone. Though with his death, Drusus was now next in line for the imperial throne, it did not lesson the loss he felt at losing his adopted brother and close friend. In truth, the prospect of becoming Emperor had never really crossed Drusus’ mind. He would have gladly served Germanicus in whatever capacity he saw fit. The daunting responsibilities of what now lay before him had not yet sunk in, though he knew it would soon enough. Finally he gritted his teeth and knocked.

  “Enter!” his father’s voice boomed.

  Drusus opened the door and stepped inside to see the Emperor pacing back and forth, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

  “You wanted to see me, Father?”

  “Close the door,” Tiberius replied, his calm voice contrasting sharply with his demeanor. He then turned to face Drusus. “I need your help, Son.”

  “How can I be of service?” Drusus rubbed his hands nervously behind his back. He knew that when his father spoke calmly, yet appeared disheveled, it was because he was not only deeply enraged, but frighteningly focused as well.

  “Keep that bitch Agrippina on a short leash. See to it she causes us no more problems once this trial is over, and afterwards.” Tiberius was not one to mince words. He leaned on his hands standing over the table, his eyes piercing into his son.

  Drusus swallowed hard as the Emperor continued.

  “Her words to me today were treasonous. I let them be, seeing that this is not the time for dealing with her. However, I will not have her thinking that she has free reign to do as she pleases and talk to me like an undisciplined schoolboy.”

  Drusus forced himself to stop rubbing his hands behind his back while waiting for Tiberius to finish.

  “By the gods, do they honestly think I had anything to gain with Germanicus’ death? I am not even allowed to mourn my son!” There was heartbreaking despair and frustration in his voice.

  Drusus knew all too well what else it was that vexed his father. He gazed over and saw a small medallion sitting on Tiberius’ desk. On it was an engraved image of Vipsania. It was old and well worn, and Drusus was saddened by the thoughts of what had happened between his parents.

  “Mother was asking about you the other day,” he said at last.

  Tiberius followed his son’s stare to the medallion on his desk. “She gave me that a long time ago, when you were a small boy,” he said quietly. “She still worries about you, even though it is her health that is failing. She never stopped caring about you.”

  Tiberius closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He gazed out the window towards the setting sun.

  “She married that bastard Gallus not long after I was forced to divorce her. He continues to use her, and their sons, to cast a perpetual shadow over me. He mocks me from his place in the Senate. Though I have the reins of ultimate power in the Empire, it is he who possesses the one thing I would have given it all up for, and he knows it. You know they haven’t lived together for years, and yet he will not grant her the freedom of a divorce. Perhaps this is because he knows I would not hesitate to take her back, back to where she belongs. If there ever was a woman who deserved to be Empress of Rome. . .”

  Drusus suddenly took great pity on his father. For him there was no rest, no peace; only cold duty.

  There was another weighty issue that remained unspoken; the unrest in Gaul. Many Senators, particularly Gallus, were clamoring for Tiberius to lead a full-scale invasion of the province and crush any signs of rebellion in an effort to show their loyalty to Rome. Tiberius maintained if the Emperor was required to quell every bit of unrest within the Empire, then he would never be found in Rome. Gallus’ disagreements with the Emperor’s foreign policies only served to add fuel to the fire of hate between them.

  “I will do what I can to help you,” Drusus said after a long silence. “I want you to know that no matter what any of my friends or acquaintances may think, I never once implicated you in Germanicus’ death. You have my loyalty, Father. You always have.”

  “I don’t care what you say. That woman is an evil sorceress and Livia is doing everything to protect her!” Agrippina snapped. Her face was flushed with anger, eyes swollen with tears of frustration as she paced around the dining chamber of the house she once shared with her husband. Around the table, reclining in typical Roman fashion, were her friends and relatives, all of whom were helping her to seek justice for Germanicus.

  Germanicus’ brother, Claudius, was sipping wine and snacking on dates, quietly observing everything. Conspicuous by her absence was Germanicus’ sister, Livilla. Few cared for the scheming, conniving woman, so her lack of presence was not missed. Most only tolerated her, not just because of her relationship to Germanicus, but because of her marriage to Drusus. Drusus was present, and desperately trying to calm Agrippina.

  “Regardless of what we may think of that witch Plancina, we must respect whatever verdict the courts render!” he pleaded. “Nothing good can come of your continual vendetta against the Emperor!”

  “The Emperor?” Agrippina seethed. “He is the man who caused Germanicus’ demise in the first place!”

  “What nonsense, woman!” Antonia snapped. Germanicus’ mother had been sitting quietly, watching the spat between Agrippina and Drusus. Defaming remarks against Tiberius never sat well with her, given she was the widow of the Emperor’s brother. Tiberius had even named his son Drusus in honor of his brother and Antonia always stood by her brother-in-law.

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��Your ridiculous grudge against Tiberius has blinded you!” she continued. “Germanicus was the best soldier and statesman he had. He would have to be the greatest fool to have ever lived to get rid of him! And what would Livia gain protecting the murderer of her grandson?”

  “And if you continue to insult and publicly defame the Emperor, it cannot sit well with you and your children,” Drusus added. “Please, Agrippina, allow justice to prevail and let your quarrels with my father lay to rest.”

  “I will rest my quarrel with Tiberius when I see the entire Piso clan burn,” Agrippina replied haughtily with an air of finality.

  Drusus stood outside in the garden, head in his hands when Claudius found him. The other guests had long since gone home. Claudius put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Th…this is not an easy t-t-time for you, I kno-ow,” he stuttered.

  “Between this damned trial, Agrippina’s goading, Mother’s poor health, and now word of unrest in Gaul, nothing is sitting right with either my father or myself.” He walked over to a bench by the man-made stream and stared morosely into the water.

  “Yes, I was s-sorry to hear about your m-m-m-other,” Claudius offered. Being lame with a stutter, the family assumed he was dim-witted and ignored him, making it possible to overhear much that occurred within the family. He knew all too well Tiberius’ feelings for his long since divorced wife and the awkward position everything put Drusus in. “Is t-t-there nothing that can be done for her?”

  “I don’t think so,” Drusus answered, shaking his head. “It’s sad. She’s not old, and she has always been strong in both mind and body. Sadly, the body seems to be failing. I know once she goes, my father will need me more than ever to get him through everything. I’m afraid I cannot be the son I should be.”

  “W-w-who of us is?” Claudius asked. “All we can do is make the b-b-b-b-b-best,” he struggled pathetically with the word, “of what we ha-have. Your father will n-n-need you to be strong. You are the one hope he has left. I know it cannot be easy, being son of the Emperor. But perhaps it is time that you learned how to b-be one. Know that all of us hope to serve you well one day.”

  Drusus smiled at that as he continued to gaze into the stream. It was the first time anyone had even mentioned what should have been so obvious; that with Germanicus gone, Drusus was now Tiberius’ sole heir. He didn’t relish the thought. “I had hoped to serve Germanicus well,” he said quietly. “He would have made a fine Caesar.”

  “Yes,” Claudius replied, wiping his eyes. The loss of his brother was still overwhelming. Germanicus had been the world to Claudius; his affection for his brother unmatched.

  As they sat quietly, contemplating everything that was happening, Herod walked out into the garden. Herod Agrippa was a close friend of both Drusus and Claudius. He was a Jew, grandson of Herod the Great, and partially named after the legendary Marcus Agrippa. He was dressed in traditional Jewish garb of robes and sandals, though his demeanor was anything but Jewish. He had been raised in Rome since he was a child and had been a favorite of the Emperor’s, at least in part, because of his lifelong friendship with Drusus.

  “Not interrupting anything, am I?” he asked gently.

  “No, n-not at all,” Claudius replied.

  Herod sat down on the bench, placing his hand on Drusus’ shoulder. There were no words, just the gesture meant to comfort.

  “My father said ‘keep that bitch Agrippina on a short leash’,” Drusus said morosely. “I swear the hatred between those two will never end. Agrippina will always blame my father for Germanicus’ demise.”

  “Then you had better find yourself a good leash!” Herod clapped him on the shoulder heartily with his usual good humor.

  Drusus couldn’t help smiling. This elicited a laugh from all three men.

  The Jewish nobleman then took a deep breath, his expression becoming sober. “Seriously,” he continued, sobering, “this is a difficult time for us all. My contacts down on the Aventine tell me that most of the plebs will only vindicate the Emperor once Piso hangs from the butcher’s hook. As for my own people, well, most Roman Jews are more apt to demand proof of Tiberius’ involvement than even the indigenous Romans.”

  “I’ve n…never understood that,” Claudius said. “The Jews are among the m-m-most fickle people in the entire Empire. And yet they have a bond with Tiberius.”

  “That’s because my father has always had a soft spot for our friend Herod,” Drusus replied.

  “It’s true,” Herod replied with a nod. “I’ve spent more time in Rome than in my own country. Tiberius became the father figure that I lacked. While most Judeans may view me more as a Roman than as one of their own, they know it was my influence which guided the Emperor’s policies towards them.”

  “S-s-such as?” Claudius asked.

  “Such as we are the only people exempt from Caesar worship. While Tiberius may have refused any such divinities for himself, he did persuade the Senate to deify Augustus. Rome respects an individual’s right to express his own religious beliefs provided he acknowledges the divinity of the Roman Pantheon, including Augustus. Strangely enough, it actually did not take much persuasion to convince Tiberius to allow Jews to abstain from such practices. Political though his intents may have been, perhaps he holds a certain amount of reverence to the one true god.”

  “That’s all well and good that my father blasphemes the entire Pantheon to show respect to the god of the Jews,” Drusus replied with a scowl. “But what good will that do us now? Will your god make Agrippina see reason? Will he bring Piso to justice and grant my father peace?”

  “One can only hope,” Herod replied gently.

  Drusus sighed. “Agrippina has been my friend for many years. Germanicus was a brother to me, as are you both. I walk a fine line being both Agrippina’s friend, as well as loyal son to the Emperor. I hope that once justice is dispensed, Agrippina will let her hatred for Tiberius pass.”

  The bathhouse was a godsend to Artorius. Though their sortie across the Rhine had been anything but a full-scale campaign, his body told him otherwise. The only time they were able to use Roman roads was when they crossed to the west side of the Rhine at the Batavian border.

  “Remind me to start getting out more,” he moaned to Praxus, who was getting a massage on a nearby table while a slave worked the soreness out of Artorius’ muscles. “Going out on road marches twice a month is not cutting it.”

  “I agree,” his fellow decanus replied. “I think I’ll start going out when Flaccus takes the recruits on their road marches, which should start up soon.” The cohort’s recruits had not gone across the Rhine with them, and had instead been folded into the Tenth Cohort’s group of recruits and trained with them. With the Third Cohort back, the recruits rejoined their unit.

  “Yeah, I’ve got to start running them through javelin and scorpion training soon,” Artorius added. “I’ve got to start training up for the Legion Champion Tournament as well.”

  Praxus laughed and shook his head at that. “As long as Vitruvius withdraws from the competition, you should not have any problems.” “I don’t know,” Artorius said. “I have not sparred in a while, and to be honest I felt a bit rusty against that jackal I killed on our little sortie.”

  “Well, don’t look at me if you are looking for volunteers!” Praxus retorted. “I remember how you and Vitruvius used to pummel the crap out of each other. Okay, so he did most of the pummeling, but still…”

  “And speaking of pummeling,” Artorius laughed, “what did you make of the Batavian women?”

  “That warm, bitter ale did a number on me before I had a chance to find out,” Praxus replied sheepishly.

  Artorius howled afresh with laughter.

  “Alright fellas, one at a time, please,” Artorius stated as he set into his fighting stance.

  In front of him, single-file, were the members of his section. All wore their helmets and carried a practice gladius and shield. Carbo was at the front of the line.
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  “Let me get this straight. We get a free round of drinks for every time we let you thrash us?” he asked, settling uncertainly into his fighting stance.

  “There is no letting me do anything,” Artorius corrected. “You are all helping your decanus get ready for the Legion Champion competition. And yes, a free round of drinks for every time you decide to give it a go.”

  Valens raised his hand. “Artorius, you know I really don’t drink much . . .”Artorius rolled his eyes. “Alright Valens, in your case it will be a classy prostitute. But you have to go at least three rounds!” “All right!” Valens shouted, grinning from ear to ear and raising his gladius in triumph.

  Carbo came at Artorius, punching with his shield. Though each man in his section was skilled in his own right at close combat, they were no match for the century’s chief weapons instructor. Artorius quickly knocked Carbo’s shield aside and stabbed him beneath the rib cage. As soon as he went down, Decimus lunged forward, catching the sergeant across the helm with a blow from his shield. Artorius stumbled back and then settled into his stance once more. Decimus was taking things a little more seriously, and he was not going to let his decanus have an easy win. After a minute of punching and jabbing with their practice weapons, Artorius charged forward and with brute strength knocked the legionary down. Before Decimus could get to his feet, Artorius caught him with a jab to the neck. Gavius and Valens were dispatched quickly before Artorius faced his old friend, Magnus.

  Magnus rolled his neck from side to side and loosened up his sword arm. He grinned at his decanus and deliberately advanced on him. Their shields collided several times before Artorius lunged in with an attempted stab to the ribs. Magnus blocked this with his shield, which he then swung and caught Artorius in the midsection. The sergeant stumbled back, surprised at the ferocity of Magnus’ attack. The legionary renewed his attack, nearly catching Artorius in the face with a stab from his weapon. His retraction was too slow, and Artorius caught him on the wrist with his shield, knocking the gladius away. Magnus yelped in surprise and raised his shield to block Artorius’ attack. Artorius purposely attacked Magnus on his left, pushing him towards where his gladius lay on the ground. In desperation, the young legionary lunged to grab his weapon, only to catch the point of Artorius’ gladius in the back of his neck as he attempted to rise.