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

  “Centurion Vitruvius,” Apronius said.

  “Sir!” Vitruvius replied, walking quickly from the crowd and standing before the Legate.

  “You are now the interim Commander of the Third Cohort, pending the results of the investigation against Lincinius. You have full authority to execute these duties as you see fit, though we cannot promote you to the rank of Centurion Pilus Prior until the investigation has been completed and any actions taken against Lincinius are resolved. Though, as a word of advice, I would not plan on returning to your former Century.”

  He still had yet to fully comprehend what had transpired that morning, his mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts. Had he truly done the right thing? Legate Apronius seemed to think so. And though the worst was over, Artorius knew that Fulvius’ friends in Rome would be enraged and seek whatever retribution they could exact against him. He just shook his head as he explained his concerns to Praxus and Magnus as they walked away from the cheering masses.

  “And you wonder why I’m in no rush to become a Centurion!” Magnus snorted. “It’s too political at that level, and in Roman politics we know just how dangerous that can be. No, thank you, I’ll stick to fighting enemies who at least have the decency to look me in the eye and make it plain that they are trying to kill me.”

  “I always thought I could avoid the political fray until at least making Centurion Pilus Prior,” Artorius replied. “The Cohort Commanders are the ones who have to at least start playing nice politically, since they can be given independent commands within the provinces.”

  “Well, Magnus has a point about the violence of Roman politics,” Praxus added. “Hell, you’ve proven that!” Artorius scowled at the remark, but then shook his head in resignation. “Hey, it’s nothing new, old friend. I mean at least we’re not of the Senatorial or even Equestrian classes of society. Some of the greatest politicians and statesmen Rome has ever had have met with terrible ends: Gracchus, Cicero, Pompey, the divine Julius himself. Even the great Marc Antony fell from grace due to politics.”

  “And a certain Alexandrian twat,” Magnus observed. “Antony was a great soldier and general, and was one of Julius Caesar’s right hand men. How far the mighty can fall…”

  “A bit extreme comparing my circumstances to those, don’t you think?” Artorius asked. “Whether through fame or infamy, those names you mentioned will all be remembered by posterity. Who, even a generation from now, will remember the name Titus Artorius Justus?”

  “We tell you these things so that you can learn from them,” Praxus replied. “You need to see where these men went wrong and where those such as the divine Augustus did it right. You did not want to get thrown into the political fray; however, you doing the right thing and executing that bastard Fulvius has made you some powerful enemies. These are enemies who don’t care how good of a soldier and leader of legionaries you are, or how many awards for valor may decorate your chest. You’ve got to start making friends in the right places. You’ve already got an advantage there with Pontius Pilate.”

  “That’s true,” Magnus concurred. “He may only be an Equestrian, but he’s Deputy Prefect of the Praetorians, answering only to Sejanus. Hell, that gives you practically a direct link to the Emperor himself!”

  “I’ve always been leery of Sejanus,” Artorius responded. “I know Pilate admires him, but there is just something about him that makes me uneasy. Justus Longinus hates him with a passion. Says he’s a poison in Tiberius’ ear.”

  “Well, our friend Justus doesn’t have senators and magistrates out for his blood, now does he?” Praxus retorted, placing a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Doesn’t matter if Sejanus is the biggest prick in the Empire, he is still one of the most powerful men in the world, and you, my friend, have the opportunity to use that to your advantage.”

  Artorius and his friends continued their conversation as they returned to his room at the Century’s barracks in order to move his gear over to the Centurion’s billet, which had been cleaned out during his confinement and trial. Magnus and Praxus were joined by Rufio and several of the Decanii, who were talking quickly amongst themselves. Even with everything that had transpired that day, nothing could have prepared Artorius for what he saw next as he opened the door to his new quarters.

  Chapter V: The Centurion

  ***

  “My lady!” Artorius choked on the words as he spoke them. At first he thought his eyes must be deceiving him, but in the dark, curled up on his bed and fast asleep was the Lady Diana.

  “Oh shit!” Magnus swore while slapping his forehead. “I completely forgot she was here! Sorry about that. We all got caught up in…” Artorius raised a hand, silencing him. Praxus grinned and slapped the Norseman on the shoulder and they left the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

  Artorius walked over to one of the shuttered windows and cracked it open, allowing just enough light in so that he could see Diana’s face. Her eyes were swollen, cheeks streaked by tears. He sighed and sat down beside her, gently caressing her shoulder and back. She let out a light whimper and opened her eyes, sitting upright abruptly at the sight of him.

  “Shh, it’s okay,” he said quickly, placing his hands on her shoulders. She placed a hand over her mouth and breathed deeply.

  “I thought you were dead,” she said quietly, turning her head away.

  “I should have been,” Artorius conceded. “But it seems the Governor General thinks my actions were justified, so I’ve been acquitted…and promoted.” Diana turned back towards him, a shocked smile trying to force its way through the buildup of sorrow she had endured.

  “Promoted?”

  “Seems so,” he replied nonchalantly. “I guess the easiest way to get promoted prior to the minimum age requirement is to murder some asshole that’s standing in your way.” Diana laughed in spite of herself. She then wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. Artorius kissed her passionately, still finding it impossible to believe that she was really there.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked at length. Diana shrugged her shoulders, the smile never leaving her face.

  “Vorena decided she wanted to manage the estate personally,” she replied. “She told me I needed to go where my heart was trying to take me. I cannot tell you how devastated I was to come here, only to find you had been arrested for murder!”

  “Yes, that,” Artorius said with a sigh.

  “Magnus told me what happened. It turned my stomach to think they would have executed you for saving the life of one of your own men!”

  “It appears that the former Centurion had powerful friends…friends who would still like to make an example out of me. But I will deal with them another time. For now, all that matters is that you are here with me.”

  “And I will never leave you,” Diana added, taking him into her arms once more and pulling him on top of her. She quickly pulled his tunic off him as they kissed passionately. Artorius kissed his way down her neck; the Gallic tunic she preferred over the more modest Roman stola revealing her strong arms and shoulders. He unlaced the front, cupping her supple breasts in his hands and kissing each in turn. His passion was renewed in ways that he had forgotten; his hands and his mouth ravishing Diana all over, his subconscious fear being that she was nothing more than an apparition and could vanish at any moment.

  “I will never leave you, my love,” Diana gasped as her hands ran up and down his back and shoulders. She seemed to sense his fear and sought to reassure him as her own passion came unleashed. Frantically she pulled her riding breaches off and guided him inside her. Artorius grinned as her eyes grew wide, her attempts at stifling her groans in vain. Diana closed her eyes, arched her back and let loose a scream of passion that no one within two blocks of the barracks could mistake for anything other than pure, erotic ecstasy. Her screams continued for some time as Artorius brought her to climax again, neither one of them caring who could hear them. Soon the virile Centurion found himself unable to hold ba
ck and he let loose a loud groan as he was taken over the edge. He then collapsed on top of Diana, both of them sweating from the exertion. As he rolled onto his back, Diana laid her head on his chest and held him tightly.

  “Tell me this is not all just a dream,” he said as he slowly regained his breath.

  “If it is a dream, then I hope I never wake,” Diana replied, kissing him gently on the cheek.

  “So does this mean you’ll marry me?” Artorius asked. Diana sat upright, a grin crossing her face as he stammered, “now that I’m a Centurion, I am eligible and all…” He was cut off by Diana’s laughter.

  “Hmm, such the romantic proposal,” she laughed, giving him a playful smack on the chest.

  “I didn’t exactly have time to come up with something more poetic,” he replied with a shrug. “So is that a yes?”

  Diana simply smiled and leaned down to kiss him on the lips. “I told you, I will never leave you.”

  “So, that’s a yes I take it…”

  In that moment Artorius found he was finally able to let go. All that had happened; the reign of terror under Fulvius, his murder, Artorius’ trial and acquittal, the promotion to Centurion, and the knowledge that he now had some powerful enemies in Rome no longer mattered. All that was important to him was that which he held in his arms. In an instant he knew that no matter what happened, as long as Diana was there for him, everything would be alright.

  “You need to select a new Optio,” Rufio observed the next day as he helped Artorius sort through the post. There were a few official dispatches, ironically addressed to Centurion Fulvius. Artorius had been trying to sort through all the other dispatches that his predecessor had neglected to even open. The majority were personal letters addressed to men within the century. A couple had been delivered to him by mistake, and he handed these to his aid with instructions to deliver them to the correct units.

  “I know,” the Centurion replied with a nod as he slumped into his chair behind his desk, his chin resting in his hand. “Forgive me, but I need to think about this.”

  He decided to take a walk along the river. It served him well whenever he needed time alone to contemplate a difficult decision. The men trusted him completely to make the right choice. All the same, he did not wish to leave any perception of favoritism. Magnus was his best friend, and definitely a leader the men would follow should the worst happen to him. He also knew there were plenty among the Decanii who were worthy of promotion as well, to say nothing of his remaining Principal Officers, Praxus and Rufio. Was his desire to promote Magnus born out of respect for his friend’s talents, or was it simply that he wanted to give the position to this best friend? Even if the men would not perceive any favoritism, Artorius had to be certain for himself that he was not making ready to commit the same folly of nepotism and cronyism that he damned much of Roman society for.

  He had already gone through the service records for every man in the Century that held a leadership position and Magnus’ was exemplary. He also knew that his Nordic friend was quite happy with his current position as a squad leader. He was also the Chief Weapons Instructor for the Century, a position Artorius had held for a few years. Though the Chief Weapons Instructor was not one of the Principal Officers, and the position gave Magnus no additional leadership authority, it did provide him with a handsome stipend. With this added incentive pay, Magnus’ salary was almost that of the Tesserarius. It was then that he made his decision and returned to the fortress.

  Tiberius glared at the message and then threw down the scroll. Sejanus knew immediately what it contained. The Emperor sat resting the side of his face on his clenched fist.

  “That bastard Gallus never ceases to be a thorn in my side,” he growled. The man he referred to was a senator who had married Tiberius’ former wife, Vipsania. The two were bitter enemies, their animosity unabated even after Vipsania’s death. “Another one of his pets that he wants to assign as an imperial magistrate. Who is this Olennius, anyway?”

  “A former Centurion, one whose appointment Gallus secured for him many years ago,” Sejanus answered.

  “Typical,” Tiberius scoffed. “Instead of making their way through the ranks, they use political influence to garner rank that they have no right to hold.”

  “Yes, I remember the abject hatred you feel towards those given direct commissions within the army,” the Prefect concurred.

  “Why do you think I was as successful as I was in the field?” Tiberius persisted. “One of the first things I learned in Armenia during my first campaigns under Marcus Agrippa, was that one’s success was directly linked to how well one listened to the voices of experience. I was but twenty-one years old at that time, and the first men Agrippa introduced to me were not the Tribunes or other nobles, but rather the Centurions of the First Cohort. They were the elite; the voices of experience and tactical savvy. I learned from them, and whenever one of them spoke, I listened. I owed my later successes in Transalpine Gaul, Raetia, Pannonia, and Germania to these men.

  “During one of the brief periods when we weren’t quarreling, before my foray into Germania in fact, Augustus went so far as to compare me to the great Julius Caesar. He stated that while even the divine Julius had tasted defeat on occasion, I had not, nor would I ever. My proudest achievements in life came during those years, and even after winning numerous battles for Rome, I never ceased listening to my Centurions. It is they who run the Empire and its legions, not the Senatorial Legates who serve for mere three-year tours of duty. We of the aristocracy grant ourselves the triumphs that are really theirs, and for an ass like Gallus to appoint one of his catamites to such a position is an insult to every Centurion who won Rome’s battles for me!”

  “True,” Sejanus agreed after allowing the Emperor to calm down from his venting. “Yet there is nothing in this decree that is illegal or violating any rules of senator-sponsored appointments. While it is your right to deny this request, since all such positions require your endorsement, it may be best to simply comply with this one for now and, thereby, get Gallus to lower his guard a bit.”

  “I see,” Tiberius said, his face suddenly brightening. If he found any joy in life anymore it was in counter-plotting against his enemies and thwarting their plans in the long term. “We allow Gallus’ plaything to have his little district and the good Senator soon becomes complacent.”

  “The question now becomes where we can place him where he can do us the least amount of harm and have little influence,” Sejanus added. Tiberius poured over a large map of the Empire and a list of governorships and magistracies that would be vacant soon.

  “Here we are!” he stated triumphantly as he pointed to a tiny spot on the map just north of Germania.

  “Frisia,” Sejanus observed. “A shell of a minor province if there ever was one. In fact, it’s not even a real province and the magistrate is simply there to collect a modest tribute.”

  “Exactly,” Tiberius replied, banging his hand on the table. “It is a semi-autonomous province ruled by the Segon Kings. I’ve met the current King, Dibbald Segon, as well as his father. A decent lot, those two. My brother was the one who pacified the region and established our relationship with them. They are mostly cattle farmers and their tribute is nominal, mostly cow hides. We have a small fort at Flevum on the border of their territory that keeps an eye on things, although nothing ever really happens there.”

  “Perfect,” Sejanus said with a sly grin. “The ideal place to place someone of little importance.”

  “Yes,” Tiberius continued. “That vile prick Gallus gets pacified for a little while and his pawn is sent off to where he can do no harm to the Empire or to us.”

  “Tesserarius Gaius Praxus,” Artorius boomed as he held up the Optio’s staff of office, which Praxus clutched as well. “You are hereby promoted to the rank of Optio. Should I fall in battle, who will lead my men?”

  “I will, Centurion!” Praxus responded in a loud voice. Artorius then nodded and released his grip on the
staff.

  “Rah!” the entire Century shouted with a quick raise of their gladii as Praxus took up his new position behind the formation. Artorius then addressed his men.

  “Sergeant Magnus!” The Decanus briskly marched forward, saluted, and faced his Centurion. “You are hereby promoted to the rank of Tesserarius.” Another shout came from the ranks as Magnus accepted his promotion orders.

  The selection of Magnus’ successor had been a difficult one. In Artorius’ mind, Valens was the logical choice; however, the legionary had vehemently protested against this. It baffled the Centurion that one who had more time in the legions and had seen more combat than even himself would be content as a lowly ranker. Valens was not even a specialist with immune status. Still, whatever his reasons were, Artorius respected them. In the end, he found a soldier with adequate experience and a solid service record to replace Magnus as Decanus.

  “You thought I was going to select you as my Optio, didn’t you?”

  The question took Magnus aback, and he almost choked on his wine. Though Artorius had promised a drink with all of the men he had just promoted, he needed some time with his best friend first. Magnus swallowed his drink, calmly set his cup down, and folded his hands on the table.

  “Absolutely not,” he replied with a shake of his head. “And if you had selected me I would have told you that you were out of your fucking mind.”

  Artorius cocked his head to one side, a puzzled grin crossing his face. “I don’t see what would be so mindless about that,” he retorted. “After all, you are one of the most decorated, charismatic, and capable leaders within the century. The men would follow you anywhere.”

  “Perhaps,” Magnus replied with a shrug. “I didn’t say that I’m not qualified for the position; far from it. I am just not the most qualified. Praxus would have been my choice too, were I in your position. He is your friend, yes. That being said, the lads all know he is the most experienced and level-headed of all of us.”