Soldier of Rome: The Centurion (The Artorian Chronicles)

by James Mace

  “I love you,” she whispered into his ear, the tears she would not show to his face sliding down her cheeks. She held him tighter as she felt his body start to tremble violently. His own tears, that he had been denied in Frisia, now bursting forth as he was finally able to release all the pent up emotions and sorrow tormenting him since the loss of his friends. Diana clung to him until his body’s shaking subsided. She then kissed him gently on the neck, pulled her arm off his waist and gently caressed his back until they both drifted off to sleep.

  As he lay there taking in Diana’s gentle caress, Artorius’ breathing relaxed and came easily to him. Her simplest touch did so much for him, for he knew that she alone was able to heal his tortured soul. Comforted by this, he allowed himself to fall into a deep sleep for the first time in weeks. Afterwards, they would never again speak of the day he returned from Frisia.

  Chapter XXIV: Call to the Fallen

  ***

  This would be the most difficult thing Artorius had ever done. By Roman tradition, the names of the slain were to be called out three times; a final call to the fallen. Each cohort held its own separate vigil, with a day to themselves to honor their brothers. Each Centurion would call out the names of his soldiers, or in the case of the First Century, Optio Macer had taken the place of Vitruvius. It would be his last official duty for his century, as he was being moved to take command of the Fourth, while Centurion Dominus was selected to take over the First Century, as well as the entire cohort.

  Master Centurion Calvinus was there, along with the Primi Ordinones of the Legion. Proculus had been the Pilus Prior for the Third Cohort before Vitruvius, and he still knew most of the men well. He had to be carried in on a stretcher, as he was still in terrible shape. Centurion Macro had commanded the Second Century. It pained him deeply to know his former Optio, who many had thought to be invincible, was amongst the slain. It was incomprehensible that Vitruvius should die in battle.

  It had only been two weeks since Braduhenna Wood, and Artorius was still weakened by his injuries suffered in battle. Still, he had insisted on being dressed in full armor like the rest of his men. He used his vine stick like a cane to keep himself upright. As commander of the Second Century, he would be the second to call out the names of his men. He breathed deeply, trying to fight back the tears as Macer called out the very first name for the Third Cohort.

  “Centurion Pilus Prior Marcus Vitruvius…Centurion Pilus Prior Marcus Vitruvius…Centurion Pilus Prior Marcus Vitruvius!”

  Each call of the name stabbed Artorius in the heart. He allowed the tears to flow, knowing that even the strongest would be unable to stop them. He focused only on keeping his voice from breaking as he listened to Macer call out the names of the First Century’s dead. There were eight of them. As the last was spoken for the third time, Artorius took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He had thirteen names to speak, more than any of the other centuries in the Third Cohort. Eight of these had been new recruits from the previous fall.

  His voice held as he shouted the first two names. They were the Decanii, the Sergeants of Legionaries that he had hastily replaced with Valens and Felix. Though he could not see his men behind him, he knew the two Sergeants felt both the sorrow of loss, as well as the guilt associated with having earned their promotions on the bodies of their friends. He continued down the list, the three names that he kept for last he knew would be the hardest.

  “Legionary Tiberius Carbo…Legionary Tiberius Carbo…Legionary Tiberius Carbo!” He swallowed hard as he continued, “Legionary Decimus Lucilius…Legionary Decimus Lucilius…Legionary Decimus Lucilius!” He tried in vain to fight back against the memories of his two friends, who had been inseparable since before he met them. Decimus had always preferred being known by his first name, rather than his family name, as was tradition. Artorius looked to the sky as he made ready to say the last name.

  “Justus, my friend, forgive me,” he said in a whisper before returning his gaze front. “Legionary Gaius Longinus…Legionary Gaius Longinus…Legionary Gaius Longinus!”

  “A terrible disaster!” Tiberius shouted as he read the report. “How was this allowed to happen?”

  “It would seem that Gallus’ pet, Olennius, decided to set up his own system of taxation amongst the Frisians,” the Tribune explained.

  Apronius had selected Cursor, personally, to be his messenger to the Emperor. The Governor General had enough to deal with in rebuilding the Army of the Rhine, and he knew that Cursor would not hold back when telling Tiberius what had transpired in Frisia.

  “You disrespect your betters!” a senator, who had been sent as part of a delegation from Rome, snapped. “Senator Gallus…”

  “…is a fool and a scourge to the Empire!” Tiberius interrupted. “Apronius sent the good Tribune to me because he knew this man would not try to make this tragedy to be anything less than what it really is. Tell me more about this taxation.” It was all in the report, but Tiberius wished to hear it from Cursor.

  “Olennius took it upon himself to modify the tribute set forth by the great Drusus Nero, the gods rest him,” Cursor began.

  The Emperor gave a quick smile at the courtesy shown to his brother.

  “But the official reports show no such change!” another senator protested, holding up a document that showed the transactions Olennius had sent to Rome over the previous three years.

  The Tribune responded by producing a pile of documents for a satchel that he had carried in with him.

  “These are the real collection reports,” he responded, eyes fixed on the Emperor. “The signatures and seals all match the documents you have. What Olennius procured from the Frisians was many times what was required, and yet only the small tribute that Rome established all those years ago was ever sent.”

  “And the rest?” the Emperor prodded, knowing the answer.

  “I’m sure that some of it went to the building and furbishing of a new estate in the province,” Cursor answered. “The magistrate’s villa that came with the region was not good enough for him. I’m certain if you were to audit Olennius’ personal finances, the costs of the new estate did not come from his own coffers. As for the rest, we can speculate on that. The only facts we know are that, as the good senators have been quick to point out, the additional tributes taken by Olennius did not make their way to Rome.”

  The two senators scowled at having helped make a case against the magistrate appointed by their friend, Senator Gallus.

  “I think I know what needs to be done with Magistrate Olennius,” the Emperor said after a brief pause.

  The senators both swallowed hard, but knew better than to go against Tiberius when he made his mind up about something. They just hoped that his vengeance would not be deflected towards Senator Gallus, as well. It was no secret that Tiberius and Gallus hated each other. One senator quickly spoke up, hoping to change the way the conversation was going.

  “We must now decide what to do about Frisia itself,” he said quickly. “The Army of the Rhine is still in a position to finish the rebellion.”

  “Apronius has already negotiated a truce,” Cursor countered, “on the Emperor’s authority.”

  “Then there is nothing more to be done,” the other senator added. “Frisia was but a sliver of a province and its tribute will not be missed. Quite frankly this entire incident in Braduhenna reeks of embarrassment should it go public. Thirteen hundred soldiers dead, another five thousand wounded, and yet the Frisians still hold their lands east of the Rhine.”

  “The Frisians are not mindless barbarians!” Cursor snapped. “They are well trained and highly disciplined. They torched the bridges across the Rhine and cut off the Twentieth Legion, who fought with tenacity beyond comprehension, outnumbered at least five to one!”

  “Yes, yes…we’ve read the report,” the senator said dismissively. “We also read that an entire cohort of the Twentieth panicked and committed mutual suicide within the residence of one of our former allies. Nine hundred me
n were killed by the Frisian, but another four hundred died by their own hands. Not exactly acts of valor worth recognizing, now are they?” There was a defiant sneer on the man’s face and he was daring Cursor to challenge him.

  The Tribune turned and went to do so, when he was cut off by the Emperor, who he would not dare to try to speak over.

  “The senator makes a valid point,” Tiberius conceded. “Such a disgrace will bring shame to the entire Rhine Army. While we cannot fully prevent word of this from getting out, we will take no public stance on the issue. The only official statements we will make are that the Rhine Army did defeat the Frisians at both Flevum and Braduhenna, and that following negotiations between their King Tabbo and our Legate Apronius, it was decided that in the best interest of both nations, Frisia should retain its autonomy and be a neutral territory. I will leave it up to the Senate to decide what should be done regarding the performance of the Rhine army.” He then waved for the senators to go, but bade Cursor to stay.

  “It displeases you that I left the fate of the army in their hands,” Tiberius said once the senators had departed.

  “It is not my place to question your judgment, Caesar,” Cursor replied, his jaw tense.

  “Come off it, man,” the Emperor protested. “Apronius sent you as his messenger because of your candor. Do not let your frankness fail you now!”

  “Then if I may be blunt,” the Tribune replied. “Caesar, the Senate will betray the Rhine Army and the memory of those who fell at Braduhenna. They will publicly disavow any responsibility for the battle and pretend the deaths of thirteen hundred soldiers of Rome do not matter.”

  “Because they don’t,” Tiberius replied, causing Cursor to stare at him, his teeth grinding in anger. “The lives of individual soldiers, be they legionary or auxilia, mean nothing to the Senate, or to most of the people for that matter. The Roman Army avoided defeat, and that will be enough for them. The details matter not. No accolades will be awarded, since that will only draw attention to the war, and to be honest, this war is something that Rome would do best to forget.”

  “So our men died for nothing at Braduhenna,” Cursor said through clenched teeth.

  The Emperor gave a sad smile and nodded. “It saddens me to say this, but yes,” he replied. “There was no ultimate victory against Frisia, so to the Senate there is nothing to celebrate. The individual awards for valor will still be approved, but no awards to the Legion standards. Believe me, I find this as painful as you. I once commanded the Twentieth, and I know that at Braduhenna they certainly lived up their name, Valeria.”

  “Apronius asked me to give you this in private,” Cursor said, pulling out a sealed letter. “It involves one unit that he wishes you to make an exception for.”

  Tiberius read the note and furrowed his brow.

  “He wants to award a single century with the Crown of Valor?” he asked. “That one century must have been through hell!”

  “They were, Caesar,” the Tribune replied. “Only sixteen of the original seventy-six were able to stand and fight by the time it was over, but they still held. They kept the Frisians from flanking the entire Legion.”

  Tiberius paused, deep in thought.

  “I will grant this award personally,” the Emperor finally replied. He then stood and placed a hand on Cursor’s shoulder. “I also heard about you being awarded the Grass Crown. Only a handful of men in Rome’s glorious history have ever won this. It is the deepest honor that we can bestow; one that is often forgotten because of the extreme rarity of its awarding. Indeed, one hesitates to mention the Grass Crown, because it involves a Roman army being cut off and facing annihilation, something we like to pretend never happens.”

  “Yes, Caesar, the men of the Twentieth Legion did present me with the Grass Crown,” Cursor admitted, a great weight suddenly crushing his spirit. “It is something that I bear with a heavy heart, for there was no joy in what I had to do.”

  “There never is,” Tiberius replied. “Every man who has ever been presented with the Grass Crown has felt the same as you. It is something that cannot be awarded without much sacrifice. But in that pain and suffering there is also honor. Within the disgrace involved in what happened at Braduhenna you have deeply honored all soldiers of Rome.”

  Artorius looked over the pile of paperwork on his desk and let out a sigh. It never seemed to end! No sooner had they buried their dead than the Century, what was left of it, was back to its monotonous daily routine. Disgusted, he turned to leave, only to find his path blocked by Optio Praxus.

  “I think you’re going to want to look at those,” he stated. Artorius glared at him, and then turned and sat behind his desk.

  “What have we got then?” he asked, rubbing his forehead. He already had a bad headache and did not wish to deal with routine matters.

  “First are the official promotion orders for Sergeant Felix and Sergeant Valens.”

  This perked Artorius up. He was always glad to sign off on promotions for worthy legionaries, and those two had done far more than any to earn theirs.

  “Rufio drew up the chits for their back pay, too. It just needs your approval.”

  Artorius signed both without even reading them. The Signifier was a stickler for efficiency, and Artorius trusted him completely.

  “What’s next?” he asked.

  Praxus grinned and handed him another batch of orders. “These are the citations for all of our awards. Seems Apronius was feeling generous and didn’t ask too many questions.”

  Artorius read through each scroll in turn. Two were awards of the Civic Crown for Magnus and Valens. Valens was the only squad leader able to maintain any semblance of order once the line collapsed, and Magnus’ counterattack with the men from the Fourth Century had bought them enough time to save a number of the wounded. There were fifteen Silver Torques for Valor, as well. Artorius loathed the idea of mass awards. However, the valor of his men could not be questioned, and he had personally recommended the awards for every soldier in his Century that was still standing when the battle was over. He then looked puzzled as he counted the scrolls again. There should have been fourteen, not fifteen. He then opened each one, looking at the names, in case he had missed someone. As he read through them his face suddenly darkened. Praxus swallowed hard as the Centurion slowly rolled a scroll up. His face contorted in rage, he threw it across the office. It was then that the Optio knew whose name had been on that particular order.

  “Why, Praxus?” Artorius asked, shaking his head. “Why would Dominus do that to me?”

  “If it makes you feel any better, at least he didn’t recommend you for the Civic Crown,” Praxus replied with his usual good nature. His attempt to calm the Centurion failed as Artorius glared at him, and he became serious once more. “Look, no one else doubts your valor on the line, so why do you?”

  “Because I failed!” Artorius roared, slamming his fist onto the table. “Our orders were to hold the flank. We failed in our mission! We were overrun, and if not for Cursor’s cavalry we would all be dead! That responsibility is mine…as are the slain.”

  Praxus then looked down for a moment.

  “Artorius, no one could have held the flank. The entire Legion was simply holding long enough for Cursor’s auxilia, along with the Fifth Legion, to relieve us. We did what we had to, and that was simply to survive. You discredit yourself, and yet it was your valor that held the line together as long as it did. I think any other Centurion would have lost the flank on the first day.”

  “I don’t know,” Artorius replied weakly. “I just don’t feel like I deserve any kind of accolades. Do you remember the first time I was awarded the Silver Torque?”

  “I do,” Praxus nodded and grinned. “You got it during the Germanic Wars. It was for killing Ingiomerus, the second most important Cherusci war chief, second only to Arminius.”

  “And I remember the feelings of pure ecstasy the day it was awarded,” Artorius reminisced. “It was the high point of my career up to that
point. Hell, it’s still one of the best moments I’ve had in the legions! I was still a legionary then, with but two and a half years in the ranks at the time. Eleven years later and I am now getting my fourth Silver Torque for Valor, and yet it feels hollow. There’s no joy in this one, no feelings of accomplishment or self worth, nothing but guilt. I look at this award and I see not my personal valor, only the faces of my men who did not come home.”

  The sun was starting to fall and the light shone red through the Centurion’s office. Artorius let out a sigh. He had intended to oversee the Century as it went through passage-of-lines drills and spend some time on the training stakes. The grumbling in his stomach told him that training had been completed for some time, and the men were having their supper. He sighed and threw his stylus down. Once again he had allowed tedious, albeit necessary, paperwork ruin his plans, and he had spent the entire day in the office once more. There was still much left to do, but he was no longer in the mood. He stood and walked out into the main office when a face he had not seen some time greeted him as Centurion Statorius walked in.

  “Thought I would find you here,” Statorius said with a grin.

  Artorius laughed and shook his head. He and his former squad leader rarely saw each other anymore. “Not for long, I’m just leaving for home.”

  “Not going to the tavern for a drink then?” Statorius asked.

  Artorius pretended to be insulted. “Dear gods, no!” he retorted. “It’s loud, dirty, and full of sullen whores!”

  “Uh huh,” Statorius nodded. “I thought that’s why you liked it.” He winked at his last statement and Artorius could not help but laugh.

  “Well, let’s just say my tastes have refined over the years,” he clarified. “I have far better vintage at my house than they will ever have at the taverns. If you’d care to join me, you can find out for yourself.”