Soldier of Rome: Journey to Judea (The Artorian Chronicles) (8 page)

“What did you find, love?” Diana asked.

“Something of the greatest insignificance,” he replied. “A rag tied to a tree just around the bend. The day prior to the assault, Macro and a group of squad leaders did a leader’s recon of the enemy camp. Once it was determined that the only viable avenue of approach was straight up the road, we left a rag tied to a tree near the bend, and another a couple miles further back. This signaled where we were to stage the cohort.”

“I’m amazed the rag is still there,” Praxus said.

Artorius shrugged. “It’s a rag,” he replied. “This road is not well traveled, and those that do come through here are not going to pay mind to a rotted piece of cloth tied to a tree.”

“You said
there were five thousand rebels in this camp,” Diana noted. “Yet you attacked them with just the Third Cohort? That was madness!”

“You’re telling us!” Magnus grunted. “A legionary cohort is never at full strength, and I think there were maybe four hundred and fifty of us
, at most. However, we did have a cavalry regiment with us.”

“
Indus’ Horse,” Artorius added. “They were with us, though they had yet to receive their honor from the emperor. They would earn it here. Many shared similar tribal ancestry as the rebels. In fact, Indus and Florus were both of the Treveri and possibly related. We were a touch worried about their loyalties, but they proved themselves both here and at Augustodunum.”

“We were still
badly outnumbered,” Praxus remarked. “It all came down to shock and surprise. Most of the rebel army was skirmishing with Indus’ cavalry back down the slope we just rode up. When we stormed the camp there were only a handful of them loitering about. We then reformed and attacked the main rebel army, with the woods masking our numbers. For all they knew, we could have been an entire legion.”

“When it was over we counted roughly five hundred enemy dead,” Magnus remarked. “Most of Florus’ army was still intact and could have easily overwhelmed us
. However, they panicked and ran. Most were never seen again. Bastards never even showed up for the final battle at Augustodunum!”

“And
somewhere up there,” Artorius said to Diana while pointing up the slope on their left, “is where we caught Florus. After Magnus finished him with a nice slash to the jugular, Indus insisted on carrying him back for proper burial.”

“A rebel and a traitor he may have been,” Magnus observed, “but they were still kinsmen. The rest of the enemy dead we left to rot.
If we look hard enough, we might find a trace here or there, but after eleven years I suspect even their bones have been consumed.”

At the end of their three-day furlough, Artorius and his men once more began their trek south to the sea. With the early spring upon them, the Alpes were still covered in snow and many of the roads would be impassable. As such, he led his men to the coastal city of Massilia, where he’d sent Optio Valens ahead to secure them passage to Ostia and to Rome.

Chapter VIII: Family Matters

***

The final leg of their journey from Massilia to Rome
was uneventful enough. Valens had been true to his word about getting them passage on a ship, and aside from a few of the men getting seasick, including Artorius, they made it to Ostia without incident. As the ship rose and fell in the rolling surf, oarsmen suddenly reversed their rowing, slowing the ship as it jarred against the side of the long dock.

“Well
, that’s that then,” Artorius said as he pulled himself up from the railing. His complexion was still terribly pale, and he swore he had not eaten the entire trip. “Two days at sea…I loathe to think what two weeks will be like!”

The piers were extremely long, running several hundred feet, in order to accommodate large vessels needing to dock
in deeper waters. Artorius waited until his men had all disembarked and their baggage was carried onto the dock. It was a hatefully long process lasting more than an hour, and the ship continued to rise and fall. The centurion could not fathom how sailors appeared completely unaffected as they used large hoists with slings to unload large crates of various cargo.

Once the last legionary had disembarked, Diana took him by the arm and helped guide him down the
long gangplank. He almost stumbled over the side, his equilibrium still unbalanced, and it was not the most dignified exit he could make, but there was nothing for it. It was late in the afternoon, and Artorius knew there was little left for them to accomplish other than finding quarters for the night.

“Praxus,” he said to his fellow
centurion. “Have a messenger sent to the praetorian barracks. Find out where Centurion Cornelius has the other volunteers for the cohort billeted.”

“Right away,” Praxus replied. He seemed little worse for wear, having more of a stomach for the seas than most of their men.

“And where will you spend this evening?” Magnus asked, already knowing the answer.

“Home,” Artorius replied. “I sent a message to Father, letting him know I would be in Rome, though of course there was no way of telling him exactly when. It’s about ten miles from here, but I think a long walk will set me right.”

“I’ve sent Proximo on with instructions for storing our baggage and finding a place for the servants to lodge while we are here,” Diana added.

“At minimum, we will be here a week,” Artorius noted as they walked along the long pier, attempting to avoid the bustling crowds of sailors and dock workers unloading their wares. “It all depends on whether or not the other legionaries have arrived and if transportation arrangements made.”

Once on dry land, Artorius felt his former strength returning to him
. He and Diana guided their horses as far as the outskirts of Ostia before mounting. Metellus joined them, at Artorius’ insistence. He had quite forgotten how much he loved springtime along the Mediterranean. The feel of the warm sun, and the pleasant breezes coming off the sea were a far cry from the wet, biting chill that permeated along the Rhine frontier.

They
were glad to be out of the city before dusk, as that was when the true congestion struck. Within Rome, and to an extent Ostia, wheeled traffic was only permitted at night, given the dense pedestrian population. In essence, the cities never slept. All food and commercial wares consumed by the massive population of the empire’s capitol could only be transported in sufficient quantities at night.

Though it had been six
years since he’d been home, Artorius still instinctively remembered the way. The once-dirt path that turned off towards the low hills where his family home lay was now widened with paving stones. There were other houses along the road, where once there had been nothing but open fields. About a mile from the end of their journey he noted, privately, the cottage that belonged to his stepmother, Juliana. It now appeared to be occupied. Years before, he had received word that his former love, Camilla, had died in that very house. Though he and Diana were very open about their respective pasts, Artorius decided there was no need to mention this detail to her.

At length they came to the modest country house
where Artorius grew up. It seemed much smaller now than when he was a child. He could see lamplight glowing in the dining room that overlooked the front of the house. The door was opened, and a stooped old man stepped out, leaning on a long staff. For a moment, Artorius almost did not recognize his father, Primus Artorius Maximus. His hair was now completely gray, and he’d developed a noticeable stomach.

“Father!” Artorius said, trying to conceal his concern.

“By Juno!” Primus replied, his face beaming as he embraced his son. He then took Diana by the hand. “And my Lady Diana. You have grown more beautiful, daughter.” He kissed her hand at this remark. In the failing light, as the sun sank behind the hills, Primus did not yet notice the young man with them.

“Father,” Artorius said. “There is someone else I want you to meet.”

Primus’ smile vanished as Metellus stepped into the light coming from the house. His eyes grew wide, and he shook his head slowly. “It cannot be.”

“Your grandson,” Artorius stated. “Metellus Artorius Posthumous.”

“An honor to finally meet you, sir,” Metellus said awkwardly. His appearance was so similar to his biological father that, for Primus, it felt as if his late son was with them once more. With tears rolling down his cheeks, he dropped his walking stick, limped over to his grandson, and embraced him hard.

After a few moments, they were led into
the house where they were greeted by Artorius’ stepmother, Juliana. Her hair had started to gray as well, though she still held much of the dignified beauty that had enraptured Artorius’ father all those years ago.

“At last our family is all together,” she said with a smile as she kissed Artorius, Diana, and Metellus each on the cheek.

Artorius noted her tired expression but said nothing. He suspected that his father’s failing health was placing a great strain on Juliana. Because he did not know when he would be returning home again, he resolved that he must do what he could to provide for both of them. For a brief moment, he surmised this journey might be the last time he ever saw his father.

“Centurion Justus Longinus reporting
, sir!” The burly, copper-haired man snapped a sharp salute, which Pontius Pilate returned before clasping his friend’s hand.

“You are most welcome!” the
procurator said with much fervor. “Please come inside, you look parched.”

“Thank you,” Justus replied. He barked some orders to his
optio, who marched at the head of a column of legionaries. The brightly painted shields and gleaming plate armor contrasted sharply with the shabby auxiliaries seen in the province, drawing the curious and somewhat fearful gaze of many onlookers. Doubtless it would have caused more alarm were their numbers not so few.

Justus removed his helmet and followed Pilate into the atrium of the governor’s palace. A servant walked over with a tray bearing two goblets of watery wine,
from which Justus drank deeply. “I’ve brought three centuries from the eastern legions.”

“And Artorius should be arriving within the next month,
I hope,” Pilate observed. “His letter came to me two weeks ago. Three weeks after it was dated. Of course, we know the imperial post moves far quicker than legionaries on the march.”

“
Well, unless they’ve met with some unforeseen disaster, they have undoubtedly arrived in Rome by now,” Justus added. “Give them a couple weeks to assemble and arrange transport, plus the travel time by sea, and yes, I think they should be here within another month. And just so you know, though I have three centuries with me, there is only one other centurion besides me.”

“Artorius is bringing the ot
hers,” Pilate replied. “Only one has command experience as a centurion, the rest are newly promoted.” He handed Justus a scroll that had come from Rome with the names of the senior officers coming from the western legions.

“I know Magnus and Praxus,” Justus said. “Or
, at least, I’ve met them. Cornelius I am not familiar with.”

“He came from the
praetorians,” Pilate explained. “Sejanus felt that at least one of the guard should be in a leadership position within the cohort, to give it the emperor’s personal touch.”

He noted the scowl on his friend’s face at the mention of Sejanus, though Justus held his tongue.
There was an intense hatred between the two men, which had caused Pilate many uncomfortable moments, even at his own wedding feast! Justus was a lifelong friend, despite the difference in their social status and birth. And while Pilate did not feel the same sense bonding with Sejanus, the praetorian prefect was his benefactor, and so there was a large amount of personal loyalty, if not brotherly affection.

“Cornelius may be a
praetorian, but he has line experience,” the procurator continued. “Do not forget I was, and technically still am, a member of the emperor’s bodyguard.”

“I did not say anything,” Justus asserted, even though his expression of contempt showed his loathing for Sejanus had not dissipated at all over the years. He quickly sought to change the subject. “What are your orders while we await the rest of the cohort?”

“Keep your men in Caesarea,” Pilate directed. “Have them form a presence within the city to let the people get used to seeing legionaries. Keep the patrols small, no more than two squads. They are here to bring order, not cause alarm. Also, feel free to check on the barracks, which I ordered construction of as soon as I received authorization to stand up the cohort. I confess I had hoped to house an entire legion within Caesarea.”

“I will personally oversee the quality of the barracks construction,” Justus asserted.

There was another issue which Pilate wished to address. He struggled with how to articulate it properly. In the end, he decided the direct approach was his only option. “I have to ask, what are your feelings about falling under Artorius’ command?”

“The sa
me as any other pilus prior,” the centurion shrugged.

“Justus, do not play dumb with me…” Pilate started to say.

“Alright!” Justus snapped. “Apologies, sir, but you want to know something I have never wished to discuss with anyone. You want to know if I blame Artorius for the death of my son, is that it?”

“Well
, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Justus shook his head, his face red and suddenly dripping nervous sweat.

“I do not mean to cause you unnecessary anguish, old friend,” Pilate said reassuringly. “However, with your seniority to the other centurions, you will be Artorius’ second-in-command. I need to know if the past will come back to haunt either of you.”

“Artorius is my friend,” Justus asserted
. “Though I have to keep reminding myself of that. The logical side of me says that Gaius knew the risks when he joined the legions. And I was not at Braduhenna, so I can never know exactly what happened there. All I do know is they were cut off with their backs against the river, with over half the men in their century either dead or wounded by the time it was over. Even Artorius was amongst the fallen injured. And for all that, I keep asking how they ended up there in the first place? The other side of me, the father who still grieves for his lost son, wants to know whose fault was it they ended up stranded and horribly outnumbered? I loved my son more than anything else in this world! I would have gladly died in his place…”

“I am sorry, Justus.”

“Flavia says that Gaius’ death must have been the will of the gods,” the centurion continued. His hand was resting against the wall and his head bowed slightly. “Ha! I say there are no gods, and if there are I have already blasphemed against them to the point that for me there is no salvation. My wife is a deeply religious woman, and I cannot imagine the fear that set in her when I destroyed every last statue and image of a Roman deity within our house. You wonder if there will be trouble between Artorius and I? No, there will not be. I know deep down that Gaius’ death was not his fault. And I have my duty to perform. That is about all I have left in this world.” He then stood erect and composed himself. “And now, with your permission, I will take my leave and begin my duties.”