Soldier of Rome: Heir to Rebellion (The Artorian Chronicles) (24 page)

“The slave named his master as a Greek named Heracles,” Praxus spoke up.

“Yes, well there are a lot of Greeks living in the region,” Proculus replied dismissively. “Some of you have befriended that Pankration teacher, Delios. Think he knows anything?”

“I don’t think so,” Artorius replied. “He’s an Athenian, and apparently this Heracles vehemently claims to be a Spartan.”

“Very nice that you want to protect your friend, Sergeant,” a Centurion retorted. “Meantime we have a madman, or madmen as it may be, decapitating citizens at will. I say the man needs to be questioned at a minimum; by someone
other
than his friends!”

“I agree,” Proculus said with a nod. “Vitruvius, you will dispatch two of your Decanii to question the man Delios.”

“Yes sir,” the Centurion replied.

“Meanwhile,” Proculus continued, “I want this entire city and all the surrounding areas scoured for any signs of who may be behind this. I know this is a difficult task for our men; they are legionaries, not detectives. Regardless, as legionaries we have been charged with the protection of this province, and protect it we will.

“I want every man who can assimilate into the population to do so. I’d use the urban cohort, but they’ve been stationed here for years; the locals all know who they are. Many of our men are not so well known. If you have any men of Gallic ancestry, so much the better. But know that I want every man responsible for this brought before me and crucified!” He slammed his hand on the table for emphasis. The meeting over; the men rose and left the room. Only Centurion Macro stayed.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his arms folded across his chest as he sat on the edge of the table. Proculus paced back and forth in the small room and took a rag to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Not well at all,” he replied, “especially after the news your Decanus, Artorius brought me. To tell you the truth Macro, it’s not just my estate I worry about. Diana is very close to me. I was like a second father to her and her sister when they were young.” He smiled at the memory. Diana had blossomed into a woman of pure beauty, and he knew Claudia was not far behind.

“I think Sergeant Artorius is infatuated with her,” Macro said with a grin, trying to keep his Cohort Commander’s mind occupied. “Can’t say I blame him.”
Proculus snorted and folded his arms across his chest.

“I have been making him spend a lot of time with
her, so I suppose it’s my fault. He was quite passionate in his desire to protect her. And while it is appreciated, Magistrate Julius is right; the number of legionaries it would take to protect my estate would severely hamper our efforts to protect the rest of the region and track these bastards down.”

Diana had hoped that Artorius would bring a host of legionaries with him; however the young Decanus was alone when he rode through the gates of the estate. He carried but a single letter, neatly folded in half with Proculus’ seal.

“My Lady,” he said as he handed the note to Diana. She took it and read it quickly, her head dropping slightly as the words sunk in. She swallowed hard before addressing Artorius.

“Tell my cousin that I appreciate his offer, but it would go against my charge,” she said, looking him in the eye, her gaze hard. “It says you are to leave at once with my reply; well now you have it. Good day, Sergeant.” She nodded curtly, turned and walked back into the manor house. Artorius let out a sad sigh.

“Good day, my Lady,” he said quietly to the now empty space where she had been standing.
He remounted his horse and raised his head to the sky. Gray clouds were starting to form, a cool, damp breeze brushing his face. Artorius was not one for omens, but still it did not bode well to him. “I pray the Fates do not abandon you as well.”

It did not rain during Artorius forty-mile journey back to Lugdunum, which he took at a much slower pace. The clouds were gray and small gusts of wind continued to make him feel as if the Fates were trying to torment him some more. He swore they hated him, for whatever reason.

Artorius did not know if he really believed in the Fates, or even the gods for that matter. How divine forces could be so cruel baffled him. He had convinced himself that Camilla’s slow and emotionally tortuous death had been brought on by their failure to follow the plans of the divine. And yet he still lived. Was he damned to lose any that he dared care for as his punishment? Diana had denied herself the personal protection of Proculus and his legionaries; was her fate now sealed?

“Damn that stubborn woman!” Proculus swore. Artorius stood rigid, his hands clasped behind his back. “Did she say anything more?”

“No Sir,” the Decanus replied. “All she said was that it would violate her charge.” The Centurion nodded and waved for him to leave.

“That will be all, Sergeant.” Artorius saluted quickly and left the office. Magnus was waiting for him outside the Principia. Artorius shook his head as both men continued their walk.

“Too bad,” the Norseman replied. “I am sorry, old friend.”

“So am I,” Artorius replied. “I have a problem, Magnus, and I think only you will be able to understand. Remember when I told you about how I thought Camilla had been cursed by the Fates because we violated their divine plan for us?”

“I do,” Magnus replied with a nod as Artorius quickened his pace. Neither man knew exactly where they were heading.

“I wonder if I am cursed too. And will Diana suffer because of me?”

“You know what I think?” Magnus asked rhetorically. “I think you’re being an ignorant, supersti
tious twat; that’s what I think. If Diana Procula dies, it will be her stubbornness that costs her. It has nothing to do with you. Now quit getting all stupid over the things you have absolutely no influence over. If the Fates do in fact hate you,
fuck
them; you don’t
need
them.” Artorius stopped quickly and the two men faced each other.

“Thanks, old friend,” he said with a
grin. “I needed to hear that.” Magnus cracked a half smile and smacked him on the shoulder.

“I know,” he replied. “That’s why you keep me around I suppose.”
Artorius laughed and took a deep breath.

“I suppose so. Honestly though, I do feel much better. Make no mistake, I do fear for Lady Diana’s safety, but what can I do about it?”

“Nothing,” Magnus answered. “You’ve done all you can. Now we need to focus on hunting these bastards down so that you don’t have to fear anymore!”

The hunts for the rebels would prove futile. Having stirred up the proverbial hornets’ nest, Heracles elected to lie low for the time being. He had told Kiana that she would not be seeing him for some time, but that she could still help their cause by monitoring the Romans’ movements and troop situations. Since she had befriended her sister’s lover, Legionary Felix, this would be all too easy. For Delios, he was quickly absolved of any potential wrongdoings and allowed to continue teaching.

In time a sense of calm returned to Lugdunum. It troubled Centurion Proculus, as well as Magistrate Julius, that they had never apprehended those responsible for the reign of terror and their sense of justice felt violated. Still, they were glad that the troubles seemed to have passed and they reasoned that perhaps the perpetrators had been eliminated by their own kind. Such would prove to be a vain hope, and only Kiana knew the truth as to what had happened to Heracles and his renegades. The Greek, who was growing more eccentric with rage and was becoming unbalanced mentally, decided that once he had raised a large enough force from the gutters of society he would try a more direct approach to bringing the populace against the Roman masters.
It had been two years since last he had struck.

Chapter
XIV: Heir to Rebellion

The City of Lugdunum, Province of Gaul Inferior

March, A.D. 23

Tierney stood just inside the far archway, her arms folded and face stern as her sister came inside. Kiana’s face was red and drenched with sweat. She did not even notice Tierney as she summoned a servant to bring her water. She down
ed a cupful and then stood breathing deeply, wiping her stola across her brow.

“Where the bloody hell have
you been?” Tierney demanded. Kiana jumped with a start and then gave her sister a displeasing glare.

“Out,”
she said. Tierney followed her as she walked briskly through the hall that lead away from her and out into the gardens.

“It is several hours past dark,” Tierney persisted. “Not a suitable hour for my little sister to be
out.”
Kiana rolled her eyes and started to walk faster. She was nearing eighteen and still Tierney treated her like a child. “You spend many nights out; leaving by yourself without even so much as taking one of the slaves with you for protection. I tell you Kiana, if you ever plan on finding a husband, know that no man will stand for such behavior.” Kiana turned abruptly and sneered at her.

“Oh, and is it my unmarried sister who thinks she can lecture me on finding a husband?” she spat.
Tierney stood in shock.

“That was a wicked thing to say,” she spoke in low voice, her eyes narrowing. “I have yet to find a husband because father had to send me away to look after you after your last lover sought to be some kind of damned hero…” Her words were cut short by a sharp slap from Kiana.

“Don’t you
dare
mention Farquhar!” she hissed.

Tierney was at a loss. Since coming to Lugdunum something had happened to her sister. Before, Kiana would never have even considered raising her voice to her, let alone striking her. Though only two years older, Tierney was taller and far more developed than her sister, who still retained much of her girlish appearance. Tierney growled in rage and struck Kiana hard across the cheek with a closed fist, sending her sprawling to the floor.

“I will
not
be so accosted by my brat of a sister!” she screamed, her eyes filled with tears of frustration and sorrow. Though the blow had nearly knocked her senseless and would leave a nasty bruise, Kiana refused to return any of her sister’s tears. Slowly she pushed herself back to her feet. Both sisters stood breathing heavily, though Kiana refused to show any emotion. Instead she spat at the feet of Tierney.

“I am not your charge anymore,” she said darkly. “I am my own woman, Tierney, and I will choose my own path in life. Go back to your fuck-toy of a Roman and see what good his pity does you!” Tierney shook her head slowly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“What happened to you?” she asked, her sorrow deepening. “What happened to my sister that I grew up with and loved? Who is this vile creature that’s replaced her?”

“This
vile creature
was spawned in the pit of hell that your lover wrought!”

“You’ve gone mad, do you know that?” Tierney stated, her composure returning.

“Perhaps,” Kiana replied with a sneer. She then snapped her fingers and a servant appeared. She never took her eyes off her sister as she gave orders to the slave. “Ready my things; I wish to leave within the hour.” The slave bowed and left the room.

“And where will you go?” Tierney asked quietly.

“I have friends,” her sister replied, her face softening, her own anger dissipating. “Please understand, Tierney. I
have
to go. There is nothing left here for me. I sent a letter to Father, telling him that I left under cover of night and that he should not blame you for my disappearance. And
please
don’t think about following me, or sending your legionary to track me down.”

“You know I cannot allow you to leave,” Tierney said as the door was suddenly flung open, a pair of burley men with their heads wrapped in rags underneath their cloaked hoods bursting in, each grabbing her by the arm. A trace of a tear
formed in Kiana’s eye. Tierney screamed a mixture of outrage and terror.

“Don’t fight,
sister. These men promised not to hurt you; please don’t give them a reason to break that promise.” Another hooded figure walked in and placed a hand on Kiana’s shoulder.

“It is time to go,” he said in a raspy voice that gave Tierney chills.

“But what of my things?” the young girl asked, to which the figure replied with a shake of the head.

“You’ll not need them,” he replied. Kiana bit her lip and nodded in reply. Without another word to her sister she turned and left with the hooded man. Tierney struggled in the grip of the two men, one of who produced a short club.

“Good night, love,” he said sarcastically as he smashed her across the back of the head. Tierney was unconscious before she hit the floor.

It was a crisp,
cool morning. Two sections of legionaries marched leisurely along the roads that their forbearers had built years before. The sections marched two abreast, their Decanii at the head. Artorius and Praxus had been sent out to check an old, abandoned farm house that someone had reported suspicious activity in. It turned out to be only some beggars seeking shelter from the freezing night. The winds had picked up, and Artorius had elected for their sections to remain at the abandoned house for the night.

“So how long do you think they intend to keep us here before we head back to our fortress on the Rhine? Isn’t our three-year tour up yet?” Valens asked.

“Why? Are you afraid that somebody from the First Cohort has been working his way into your territory?” Magnus replied, referring to the less than savory group of women whom Valens associated with.

“I wouldn’t worry so much,” Gavius added, “the lads in the First have too high of standards for any of Valens’ hussies to feel threatened!”

“Very funny,” Valens retorted, “I like it here; and besides, Svetlana is about all I can handle anymore. Don’t get me wrong, taking her to my favorite brothels has been fun…sorry Magnus.” He cringed as the Norseman glared at him over his shoulder. He quickly changed topics once more. “So again, when is our tour done?”

“August,” Carbo replied. “At least that’s when we had replaced those blokes from the Eighth Legion.”

“I think this area is a lot more pleasant,” Decimus remarked. “It doesn’t get as cold, and the locals are a lot more hospitable. They are cleaner and more civilized as well.”

“Which is why we are here,” Magnus added. “To ensure that they stay that way, and that another Sacrovir doesn’t surface.”

“That guy was nothing more than a lost dreamer,” Carbo said.

“Kind of like Valens and his lost dream of ever meeting a nice girl
…Magnus’ sister excluded,” Decimus chided. This drew a smack across the back of his helm from Valens, along with some profane remarks. Artorius and Praxus shook their heads and laughed at their men’s revelry. The soldiers in Praxus’ section were engaged in similar conversations.

“They never change, do they?” Praxus asked.

“No, they don’t,” Artorius replied. “And to be honest, I really don’t want them to. At least this way they are predictable.” Praxus chuckled at that. The sun started to shine brighter, casting its light on the frosty ground. A soft breeze made him shiver slightly. Soon the city of Lugdunum came into sight.

“Think we’ll see anything interesting today?” Praxus asked at length. Artorius shook his head.
It had been some time since the last sign of insurrection. The villains who had gone on a rampage of murder had escaped Roman justice and had lain dormant for several months. Like his Centurions, it bothered Artorius that they had never gotten those who had wrought the most harm. In reality, those ransomed after the Sacrovir Revolt and a large number of freed slaves were the only ones to truly suffer. For the most part theirs was an unwilling guilt by association.

At length they reached the gates to Lugdunum. Life seemed to go on as always in early spring. Farmers would be planting their crops soon, the last of their stores on display in shops, awaiting buyers. The Soldiers came upon a crowded square with a raised platform, usually used for conducting auctions. On top was a group of men, arguing with the gathering crowd. Most of these were burley, haggard looking men. However there was one, a Greek by the looks of him, who was better groomed and maintained. He seemed to be the leader of the band, and it was he who was arguing with the crowd. Artorius thought nothing of it and was going to pass by, when a name rang out from the Greek’s mouth that made him stop in his tracks.

“Sacrovir was more than just a dreamer, he was a visionary! He envisioned a free and united Gaul, all peoples together in one common cause!”

“Have you learned nothing?” one man argued back with him. “The majority of Gauls live in peace and prosperity under the rule of Rome! We would be fools to give that up!”

“You are fools to continue to pay Roman tribute for what is yours by right!” Heracles retorted. “I fought beside Sacrovir. I stood by him until he took his own life, not wanting to be a source of ridicule and spectacle for the Romans. He died so that you could breathe free.”

“Tribute is a scourge to be certain,” the first man continued, “but at least it is used for the betterment of our people.”

“These things you could have had on your own, you do not need the Romans to give you a better life!” Heracles retorted.

“And what of the Roman army?” a young woman asked. “If the province rises up against Rome, their armies will destroy everything we have worked for! The Romans are gracious in their gifts that led to a better life for us. Let us not incur their wrath by showing further ingratitude. I personally am ashamed that this city gave sanctuary to Sacrovir in the first place.”

“I agree,” the first man added. “The Romans were benevolent enough not to raze this city to the ground when they cornered Sacrovir here. They forgave us for the wrongdoings of our countrymen and let us be.”

“No…” Heracles shook his head in rebuttal when Artorius and his section mounted the platform, swords drawn. Praxus had taken his section around the other side. They were fighting their way through the crowd in hopes of cutting off any chance of escape. The rebels had their sections outnumbered; however they were only lightly armed.

“I think we’ve heard just about enough,” Artorius said, his gladius pointing straight at Heracles. “Now,
Greek
, you are under arrest for spreading sedition and attempted rebellion.” With a flash, Heracles drew his long sword and waved it in Artorius’ direction.

“You will not take us so easily,
Roman
,” he retorted. Artorius simply shrugged.

“If you wish to die here, that is fine by me. It will spare us the hassle of trial and execution.
We have been searching for you for a
long
time. And now you must pay for what you have done to the people of this region.” Heracles gulped hard and then reached into his belt and grabbed a small dagger which he flung at Artorius.

The Sergeant deflected the weapon with his shield as Heracles turned and leapt from the platform. The other rebels turned to follow suit, only to have some of their number cut off by Praxus and his men.

“Going somewhere?” Praxus asked a rather large fellow, his gladius pointed at the man’s chest. Most of the others did manage to escape with Heracles. They raced through the crowds, desperate to salvage their lives.

“Let them go,” Artorius ordered his section. “We will deal with them later.” The
soldiers quickly bound the hands of the prisoners and marched them out of the city. The people started booing and throwing objects at the rebels who had tried to subvert them. Artorius could not help but wonder if their disdain was genuine, or rather if it was a show to make their loyalty apparent in front of Roman soldiers. He figured it was probably a little of both. “Once again, so anxious to feign loyalty,” he muttered under his breath.