Soldier of Rome: Journey to Judea (The Artorian Chronicles) (7 page)

Artorius smiled and let out a sigh as he saw what his friend inferred.

A caravan of wagons awaited them. All of their personal possessions were stacked in chests and crates. Praxus’ wife, Lucilla, and their children waited at the front of one, along with their servants. Lady Diana was with their servants, including Proximo and Nathaniel, at the back of a wagon. Nathaniel opened a large trunk and started to help his master out of his armor. Artorius handed him his helmet and then removed his belt and the harness bearing all of his campaign medals and decorations before pulling off his armor. Once Nathaniel had taken his hamata chainmail, Artorius strapped his belt and gladius back on.

“You’re not ready to go yet?” Magnus laughed as he walked up, leading his horse.

“I admit I had a bit of a hard time saying goodbye to the Second Century after all these years,” Artorius said.

“I understand. Remember,
I had more years with them than you did,” Praxus retorted before giving him a friendly slap on the back.

“And you know you didn’t leave all of us, sir,” a voice behind him said.

Artorius turned and laughed as Felix walked towards them with the thirty legionaries Macro had allowed him to take from the legion. Eight had come from his former century. Among them his adopted son, Metellus, who smiled and nodded at him. It was a relief for Artorius to have so many of his friends with him in this next chapter of his life. As he pondered for a moment, he almost pitied Centurion Tyranus. He had come from the Fifth Legion by himself and assumed command of a century in which he did not know any of the men. He then looked to his right and saw twenty more legionaries approaching him. These were the volunteers from the First Legion who had been accepted into the cohort. Their packs were bulging with all of the meager possessions a legionary could carry.

“Where do you want us, sir?” the Decanus leading them asked.

Artorius pointed them toward an empty wagon that had its tarp pulled back.

“All legionaries can store their packs and personal belongings in that wagon,” the
centurion replied.

“Yes
, sir,” the decanus replied. There was a murmur of relief from the soldiers. Since only centurions and options were authorized horses, they would be walking all the way to Ostia and Rome. This was nothing new for men accustomed to marching twenty-five miles per day in full kit while on campaign. However, if they could avoid carrying their packs, which were far heavier than normal with all of their possessions, so much the better. Felix and the decanii quickly formed up a work detail to stow the men’s personal baggage.

“Felix, post six men to the
head of the column,” Artorius ordered, “the rest will fall in on either flank.”

“Yes
, sir,” the tesserarius replied. “I also received word that the volunteers from the Fifth Legion are already posted at the second relief outpost, fifty miles from here.”

“Good,”
the centurion said. “How many men are we picking up from them?”

“Twenty-four,” Magnus answered. “Between them and the lads we have with us there’s almost enough for a full century.”

“There will be a lot more by the time we get to Ostia,” Artorius replied. “I sent word for the volunteers from Hispania and North Africa to link up with us there. Given the time it is going to take for us to even get to Rome, I daresay they will spend quite a bit of time waiting for us. I received word last week that an optio from the praetorian guard named Cornelius has been selected to command one of our centuries. I sent a message that all volunteers are to report to him. He will keep accountability of our lads until we arrive.”

“A bloody
praetorian,” Valens spat as he joined his friends. “I hate those pompous twats!”

“I checked his service record
, and he does have some line experience,” Artorius replied. “He was among the praetorian cohorts that stormed the Angrivari stronghold alongside us.”

“Well
, I have to give him some respect for that,” Valens conceded. “I just hope fifteen years of policing the streets of Rome and serving as one of Sejanus’ pets hasn’t ruined him.” As they continued their banter, the decanus from the First Legion walked over with a map in his hands.

“Sir, I’ve been checking our route of march,” he said. “If we skirt south and west to avoid the snow of the Alpes, it will take us at least a month to get to Rome.”

“You’ve never been to Rome, sergeant?” Artorius asked.

“No
, sir,” the man replied. “I was born and raised in Belgica.”

Artorius raised an eyebrow and then remembered that with the
empire being as vast as it was, the majority of legionaries who had sworn to defend Rome with their lives had probably never seen the Eternal City. The soldiers who expanded the empire during its years of conquest often settled in the areas near their last posting. Cities sprung up in their wake, bringing Roman culture to the far corners of the known world. Over generations many of their descendants would carry on the tradition of serving in the legions. When the young decanus first enlisted as a legionary, it only made sense to post him to the nearest legion where there were always vacancies, rather than sending him clear across the empire. The only reason Artorius and Magnus had been sent so far from home when they first joined was because there were no legions posted near their homes in Ostia. That, and all reinforcements were sent to the Rhine to fight in the Germanic wars.

“Well
, you are correct,” Artorius stated. “If we can arrange transport from the port city of Massilia, that will save us at least an additional week on the march. Once assembled in Rome, we will take ship to Caesarea; about ten days of sailing under ideal conditions.”

“So anticipate an additional week retching over the side of a ship,” Valens added, drawing a chuckle from Artorius.

“By the time we get to Judea, all of us will have a better understanding of just how large the empire really is.”

Chapter VII:
Across the Empire

***

Thirteen days into their journey and the volunteers of the First Italic Cohort arrived in Augusta Raurica, at the northern base of the Alpes; the vast mountain range that separated Italia from its northern provinces.
It was midafternoon and the city was swarmed with legionaries who were there on holiday. The Emperor Augustus had commissioned numerous recreation buildings for the city, and it served as a place that soldiers were sent on leave.

“The me
n could use some leisure time,” Praxus said as he eyed the anxious faces of their legionaries.

“They do look a bit worn,” Magnus concurred.

They had been marching for almost two weeks and were starting to show all the signs of wear. Even without having to carry their heavy packs, two weeks of straight marching, at twenty-five miles per day, took its toll. Thankfully, the trek had been largely uneventful, with the conglomerate of men from various legions following the main road that ran north to south along the Rhine.

“Alright,” Artorius remarked
. “We will stay here for three nights.” He then called over Felix and the decanus from the First Legion, whose name he had learned was Cicero. Artorius was baffled at how his detachment had somehow ended up so critically short on officers.

In a normal century the ratio of legio
naries to decanii was at most seven-to-one. Yet of the seventy-four men from the three legions along the Rhine they had picked up, Cicero was the only decanus. In order to assist, Metellus and two other legionaries had been temporarily appointed as acting squad leaders.

E
ven though Artorius made a point of never using his influence to further his son’s career, he secretly hoped the position would be made permanent once the entire cohort was assembled. He thought perhaps there may be opportunities for his promotion. He fought against such notions. Even though patronage was often more important than ability and nepotism ran rampant throughout the legions, Artorius was determined Metellus would make his own way in the ranks. Even though Artorius was Metellus’ cohort commander, he would not allow them to serve in the same century together. In a way it hurt him, for he loved his son and was proud of the man and soldier he had become. Nothing would please him more than to fight on a battle line with Metellus at his side. Yet as a leader Artorius knew that perception, along with good order and discipline of his men, was far more important than his personal feelings. There would be no misconceptions of favoritism with him, no matter who it involved.

“Acquire billeting for the men,” Artorius ordered his tesserarius. “They are to first conduct repairs of their sandals and kit with a full inspection by both of you before they are permitted to take leave.”

“Yes
, sir,” Felix and Cicero both replied.

“Acting-Sergeant Metellus!”
Cicero shouted, forcing Artorius to smile.

“I say we find ourselves a comfortable place to bed down for the night,” Diana said as she guided her horse over to her husband, leaned over
, and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“I will encamp with my soldiers,” Artorius replied. “
If you wish to find rooms for you and the other wives, please do so.”

“The others can do as they please,” Diana replied, “
But where you are, so am I.”

When all was settled, they laid his cloak out on the ground, took some blankets from their baggage cart, and lay on the ground, using Artorius’ saddle pack as a pillow. The night air was cold
, and the ground damp beneath his thick cloak but wrapped in a few blankets and with Diana’s head on his chest, Artorius was reminded once more why he loved this woman so much. In that moment, as he gazed up at the infinite stars that lit up the cloudless night, there was no other place he would rather have been.

The next morning the three
centurions went for a ride while their men completed repairs on their kit whilst indulging in the excesses offered by the city. As Lady Diana was the only spouse with a horse, she alone was able to accompany them. In fact, Artorius insisted she join them. They rode at a fast cantor on the dirt road that took them through the mountains towards Augustodunum, a hundred miles to the west. Diana was uncertain why they chose this particular road, but all three men seemed to be searching for the same thing.

“Think we’ll even know it when we find it?” Magnus asked as they watered their horses in a creek that ran parallel to the road.

Artorius looked around and took a deep breath of the mountain air.
“It’ll be an open meadow on top of a flat rise with the road sloping down in either direction.”

“Oh, that should be easy,” Praxus replied sarcastically, “There’s only, maybe, a hundred places matching that description between here and Augustodunum!”

“
Ass,” Artorius retorted. “You were there, too! One of us should be able to recognize the place.”

“Possibly,” Praxus said. “It has been eleven years, though.”

“Eleven years,” Diana interjected. “You were here during the Sacrovir Revolt?”

Artorius grinned knowingly as he pulled an apple out of his saddlebag for his horse.
“Somewhere around here.”

“My lady, you heard about the nine who were awarded the Florian Crest?” Praxus asked.

Artorius just smiled as Diana looked at his friend dumbstruck. He had never told her about how his squad prevented the rebel leader, Julius Florus, from escaping to start a new insurrection elsewhere within the Empire.
It had been but one part of a much larger saga that had unfolded so quickly the entire rebellion was over before most of Rome knew it had begun.

“Of course I’ve heard about them,” Diana replied. “The death of Florus crippled the rebellion before it could spread and allowed the legions to smash the main rebel army at Augustodunum.”

“Well, you’re looking at two of them,” Magnus stated as he remounted his horse.

Diana looked over at her husba
nd. He simply smiled and shrugged, allowing his friends to tell the story for him.

“Yes
,” the Norseman continued. “We were in the same squad back then; with Artorius as our decanus. Our cohort, along with the cavalry regiment that would later be named
Indus’ Horse
, had routed the rebel army under Florus that was moving to reinforce Sacrovir.”

“I was also a
decanus then,” Praxus said. “Though we all fought on the same battle line, it was Artorius’ squad that Macro sent after that corpulent Gaul once he was spotted.”

“Silly bastard was wearing an ornate breastplate and helmet that gleamed in the sun,” Magnus added. “
It made him easy to spot when he was trying to escape through the trees! We pursued him, and I don’t doubt we would have caught his fat ass, although the arrival of Commander Indus and two of his men expedited things. Bloody coward killed himself or at least tried to.”

“He threw himself on his sword,” Artorius
explained. “Only he didn’t do it right and ran the weapon through his bowels instead of his heart. It was Magnus who finished him.” He nodded towards his friend as he finished explaining to Diana. “It wasn’t until after the fighting was over and Sacrovir hunted down that we were formally recognized. To be honest, I had almost forgotten about the entire ordeal, what with the cohort having to double-time back to Augustodunum to take part in the final battle. In fact, it was months later that the nine of us who took down Florus were awarded the Florian Crest.”

“And what happened to the others?” Diana asked.

“Commander Indus achieved much glory and renown,” Artorius began. “His regiment was named in his honor by Tiberius. He continued to serve as a regimental commander under Tribune Cursor through the Frisian Rebellion. I never knew the names of his two troopers, though.”

“Legionary Gavius is still with the Twentieth Legion in our former century,” Magnus added. “Though he joined the army at the same time as me and Artorius, we kind of just grew apart over the years.
It happens. And, of course, you know about Valens.” The mention of their ever-deviant friend who was now serving as Artorius’ optio brought a chuckle from everyone as they continued their ride. They were somber for a minute.

“The other two…” Artorius started to say
and found he could not continue.

“Are no longer with us,” Praxus finished for him.

“Carbo and Decimus were both killed at Braduhenna,” Magnus quickly added.

“I remember them,” Diana added sadly. “I used to sometimes see Carbo on gate guard when I would
visit the fortress. He always made me turn my weapon in before he’d let me through.”

Artorius taught Diana ho
w to fight like a legionary and had a gladius made for her soon after they were together. Wherever she went, Diana almost always carried her weapon beneath the folds of her stola. With her current attire of a Gallic tunic and riding breaches, her gladius was clearly visible, strapped to her hip.

“It was Decimus who claimed Florus’ polished helmet with its magnificent plume,” Magnus reminisced. “I’ll never forget the entire march back to Augustodunum everyone could see it sticking out of his pack.”

“He always said if anything happened to him he wanted it to go to Carbo,” Artorius a
dded. “Fate, however, decided that they should die together.”

“What do you do with a legionary’s
personal effects when he passes?” Diana asked.

The turn of the conversation contrasted sharply with the sunny day and the pleasant sounds of the flowing creek
, as well as the birds chirping in the woods.

“Every legionary has part of his wages deposited into a burial fund,” Artorius explained. “If he is killed, this is used to cover the cost of any memorials built and is sometimes given to either his known family or someone he designated. The same is done with any personal effects. One of the more hateful tasks of a
centurion is going through a dead soldier’s possessions with his decanus. It was particularly difficult when Decimus and Carbo died, as both had been my friends since I joined the ranks. Valens had been battlefield promoted and was their squad leader for barely a day. He took it especially hard, as the three of them had always been close. Carbo had no children, so all of his belongings went to his sister in Lutetia. And though neither could legally marry because of their rank, Decimus did have a daughter named Decima, who I think was around eleven at the time. His only other surviving relative was a distant nephew whom he had never met, so we made certain Decima received everything he owned.”

“Except for Florus’ helmet,” Magnus added.

“The legate was pretty adamant that it go to the Legion Museum with all the other war trophies from previous campaigns,” Praxes said. “It, along with Florus’ armor are still on display there.”

They rode in silence for some time and Artorius sensed that Diana regretted broaching such an emotional topic. He brought his horse alongside hers, reached over
, and took her hand in his. He gave it a reassuring squeeze and caressed it gently with his thumb as she looked over and smiled at him. They came up a steep rise to an open meadow. To their right they could hear the sounds of the river, on the left was a more sparsely wooded slope. About five hundred meters ahead, the dirt road and the ground sloped down once more. In the distance they could just make out the bend in the road that curved right around a grove of trees.

“This is it,” Artorius said quietly. “Wait here.” He rode at a fast gallop across the meadow and down the far slope. The others watched as he reached the bend in the road, about a mile away.

“What’s he doing?” Diana asked.

“I think I know,” Magnus replied.

They all dismounted their horses and started to walk through the glade.

“This does look familiar,” Praxus added, glancing around, “Though the grass was mostly flattened, as five-thousand men had camped here. Not many meadows in these parts are large enough for so many to bivouac.”

After a few minutes they saw Artorius riding back, a look of triumph on his face.
“I found it!” he said, which garnered knowing nods from his friends