by James Mace
Such men were sheep. Sheep lured by want of money. He was now able to lead them around by the nose. Provided the ring was made of gold.
“Gentlemen, I cannot stress enough how much secrecy is paramount in this contract. Hence, I do not ever want to see any of you here dressed so ostentatiously again. Once your men are established and have their smiths moved to their appointed location, we will discuss the remainder of the contract and how much they will be required to manufacture. In the meantime, here is a down payment for the movement costs, as well as a little stipend to make the effort worth your while.” With that he snapped his fingers and a servant appeared from a dark corner of the room, bearing three small scrolls. He handed them to Sacrovir, who in turn handed one to each of the men.
“What are these?” Bushy eyebrows asked.
Sacrovir rolled his eyes in disgust. “How far do you think you would get if you left here bearing gold?” he asked condescendingly. “There are thieves and brigands in this part of town who would have your gold and your heads before you could shit yourselves in terror. Consider yourself lucky that you were not robbed on the way here. Read them. I assume each of you knows how to read.” They read their scrolls and looked at each other amazed. The quiet guild leader smiled greedily.
“These notes bear my seal, which you will each take to a separate bank to withdraw your money. I have accounts all over the province, so no one will take any notice. You have five days to get your smiths and equipment ready to move. On the fifth day, I will send messengers and escorts.” He rose abruptly to his feet, signaling that the meeting was over. “Do we have an agreement, gentlemen?” Each man extended their hands to him, which he grasped firmly as he ushered them out to where it was still raining. A smug grin then spread across his face. Florus would be pleased. After all, he was helping to finance this venture and would want to see measurable progress. The manufacturing of so many arms and armor would take time. However, time was something Sacrovir felt comfortable he had.
Statorius sat on top of the desk in the century’s main office, scribbling notes onto a large parchment. Gathered around were all the section leaders within the century. It was the first such meeting Artorius had attended. Though Magnus would be acting in his place soon enough, he felt he should at least attend a few of the section leader meetings to make certain he knew how things operated. Around the end of each month, the tesserarius would call together all of the decanii in order to establish the duty and training schedules for the next month. Each section leader had a wax tablet and stylus with which to take his notes.
Statorius seemed to be checking off all the applicable days of the month, his brow wrinkled in thought. Finally he spoke.
“Alright, let’s get started. The first thing I need is three guys for latrine duty from the first till the fourth. Ostorius, I’ll need two from you and, Praxus, I’ll need one from you.”
“I know just who I’m going to give you,” Praxus replied. “Got somebody on my ‘shit list’, no pun intended.”
That got a slight chuckle out of some of the men, though it was a well-used joke. He and Ostorius gave the names to Statorius, who wrote them down on his roster.
“Okay, next we’ve got stable duty on the third,” the tesserarius continued. “Rufio, I’ll need one of your men for that. And, Artorius, I’ll need two men for road repair on the sixth.”
Artorius looked at his list of names briefly. He was short two men as it was and, with Macro’s assurances, he hoped Statorius would not overtax him.
“I can give you Valens and Magnus,” he answered.
Statorius nodded and wrote the names down.
“Oh, and I’ll need one more from you for latrines again, this time from the sixteenth to the twentieth,” Statorius added.
“I’ll give you Carbo.”
This caused the tesserarius to chuckle. “He’ll love you for that,” Statorius remarked. “He complained to me for an entire week once when I put him on latrines.” “What did you do?” Artorius asked, intrigued.
“I volunteered him for latrines for the next six months. I have to say I don’t think anyone in the legion knows the intricacies of our sewage system better than Carbo,” he snickered.
After about an hour the roster was finalized for the next month. Artorius made sure to keep from offering up Decimus for any details, seeing as he was an immune and, therefore, exempt from fatigue duties. Magnus’ elevation to immune status was to take effect on the seventh, so Artorius knew he could still be used up until then. As soon as Statorius called the meeting, he made his way towards the door.
“Sergeant Artorius!” the tesserarius called after him.
Artorius closed his eyes and for a moment froze in place, thinking he was in trouble. The room emptied as he walked over to where Statorius still sat on top of the desk. He clasped his hands behind his back, waiting for his superior to speak.
“I see you are catching on,” Statorius began.
“It’s coming along slowly but surely, sir,” Artorius replied.
“Come off it, Artorius, you don’t have to act so formal around me,” Statorius replied. “I heard you impressed Macro with your conducting of weapons drill with the recruits.”
Artorius shrugged at that. “I spent so much time out there with Vitruvius that it all kind of came naturally. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit nervous about everything. I have the men’s trust, though I feel I’m putting up a front of false confidence most of the time. Was it that way for you?” Artorius was indeed feeling overwhelmed by his duties. Before, when not on details or mandatory drills, he had had quite a relaxing time when the legion was in garrison.
The operations tempo had slowed considerably since the wars against Arminius and the Cherusci had come to an end. Now, when most of his soldiers were enjoying leisure time, he was working on training schedules, detail rosters, and conducting lesson plans for the recruits. He truly cherished his off time, and he was finding that as a decanus he had much less of it.
“It took some time,” Statorius answered. “After a while I got used to it. I admit I was not tasked nearly as much as you. Remember, I did not have any additional duties, like you do. Things will slow down once the recruits finish training. How much longer do they have?”
“Six weeks,” Artorius replied. “They’ve only just started working with me.”
“You need to let me know when they are ready to move past the training stakes. I need to put that time on the duty roster as well, so that we can assign sparring partners for your recruits.”
Artorius made a note of it on his tablet. Just one more thing to try and remember, he thought to himself.
“Now that you mention it, I’ll have to get with Pilate and see when he can schedule a time to conduct basic artillery training,” he said out loud as he made more notes. As he started towards the door, Statorius grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Hey, don’t think you have to do this alone,” he remarked. “You can delegate some of your duties to your more competent troops. Magnus is probably your best bet. Decimus is good, too, though he lacks Magnus’ ambition. And if you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Artorius nodded in reply. “Funny you should mention that. Macro said the same thing. In fact, he directed me to have Magnus act as section leader while I train up for the Legion Champion Tournament. Of course, I’m sure he will be one of my primary sparring partners, so his days will be full as well.”
“He will manage,” the tesserarius replied. “I know you are new to the position, but it is never too early to start training your successor.”
“So how are your new duties?” Artorius asked, wanting to shift the subject off himself.
Statorius shrugged. “I spend a lot of time with Flaccus. He was tesserarius for more than seven years, so he knows the position better than any. And speaking of which, I have to get this over to him and then it’s time to do my patrol of the rampart sentries.” With a wave he dismissed the sergeant. Artorius left without a w
ord. As he walked out the door, he saw Praxus was there waiting for him.
“Statorius chew on your backside a bit?” he asked.
“No,” Artorius laughed, reviewing his notes as he walked, “though I thought for certain he was going to, for whatever reason.”
“He expects a lot of you, as does everyone else.”
Artorius stopped reading and looked at him.
Praxus was quick to explain. “Because of your extra duties, you get paid more than the rest of us section leaders. For example, Rufio has been in the army for over fourteen years, four as a decanus, yet with your incentive pay you make about a third more than he does. Statorius’ way of thinking, the highest paid sergeant needs to be the one who sets the highest standards. And to be quite frank, I agree with him.”
Artorius nodded. “Believe me, they make certain I earn that incentive pay. I’m just glad Vitruvius kept good notes. Otherwise, I’d be completely lost as chief weapons instructor.”
“Oh, come on! Why do I have latrine duty next month?” Carbo complained.
“Keep whining and you will have it every day for the next six months,” Artorius answered. He was mildly irritated and was in no mood to put up with any of the incessant bickering and complaining that usually followed after the duty roster was posted.
“Better yet, spend less time getting drunk and learn a skill so that you don’t have to show up on the duty roster anymore,” Decimus taunted.
This elicited a string of colorful profanities from Carbo. Decimus’ schedule for working in the leather shops, a skill which had given him his immune status, as well as incentive pay, was given to Artorius at the start of each month by the primus ordo who supervised all of the legion’s specialists.
Artorius shook his head and left the room. He noticed that Magnus was not in the barracks. Not that it mattered. Magnus was the least likely to complain about anything, no matter how unpleasant. Artorius figured that was why he did not like the thought of giving the less desirable details to his old friend. Old friend. The term sat hard with him. Though Magnus was one of his closest companions, he had to make it a point to not show favoritism towards him. Everyone knew the two were best of friends, However, Artorius could never allow it to show when it came to things such as assigning duties, otherwise he would lose the confidence and trust of his soldiers.
It certainly wasn’t easy adapting to the change from legionary to sergeant.
However, it was something he was just going to have to get used to. He would need to talk to Magnus soon. He had yet to tell him about Macro elevating him to immune status. Artorius smiled at how ecstatic Magnus would be, particularly when it came to the extra pay.
While the decanii of the Second Century had been at their meeting, centurions and options of the entire cohort were in a meeting of their own. There were six eighty-man centuries within the cohort, which fell under command of the centurion pilus prior, who also commanded the First Century. Valerius Proculus was the pilus prior for the Third Cohort, and had been for some years. A veteran soldier in his forties, his gray hair was just starting to recede from his forehead.
“As you all are fully aware,” he began, “it has been some time since we last crossed the Rhine in any force to let the barbarians know we are still here.”
The centurions and options nodded in agreement. All had fought against Arminius, the hated war chief of the Cherusci who had orchestrated the Teutoburger Wald disaster eleven years previously. Centurion Platorius Macro, Commander of the Second Century, had survived that disaster. The campaigns against Arminius had been fierce and brutal, many thousands of barbarians paying the ultimate price for their treachery. Though Arminius himself had eluded capture, the Cherusci were completely shattered and had scattered to the winds. The Battle of Idistaviso, near the Weser River, had broken his army; the assault on the Angrivarii stronghold annihilated his people.
“The commanding general thinks it is time for us to reconnoiter east of the Rhine,” Proculus continued, “so that we may not only show our presence to the Germans, but also see to it that they are not massing against us again.”
“How large of a force are we talking about?” Centurion Vitruvius asked.
“No more than three cohorts,” Proculus answered. “Command feels that any more than that will provoke the locals into thinking we are invading again. Our cavalry assets are few, and they are constantly taxed to the limit as it is. Hence, the task has fallen on us. We will move across the Rhine in ten days. From there we will split off, all centuries moving on line, each taking an assigned sector as you can see on this map.”
“Sir, will that not leave us exposed to attack?” the Optio from the Fifth Century asked.
“Possibly,” Proculus answered, “which is why we must make contact with the local tribal chiefs as soon as possible and gage from them the demeanor of their people. They also need to understand that it is their responsibility to keep the fanatics in check. We must make certain that they understand any hostile act towards us will be construed as an act of war, and will be followed by another full-scale invasion. It has only been four years since Idistaviso. While there may be some who wish for the opportunity to spill our blood, there are many more who remember all too well the consequences.”
Macro sat back in his chair, arms folded, brooding over what was being proposed. While the risks were there, he completely agreed with Proculus’ assessment. He was curious to see how things had or had not changed since they crossed back to the west of the Rhine four years earlier. This mission would be much different than their last; one of reconnaissance and information gathering. There would a lot fewer of them this time as well. He still detested the barbarians. The horror of Teutoburger Wald never fully left him. It was a pity this wasn’t another invasion. A part of him hoped the Germans would become openly hostile toward Roman soldiers crossing the Rhine. An opportunity to slay a few more of the bastards would not be unwelcome.
Tiberius sat before the assembled Senate. Piso stood with his defense counsel off to one side. The defendant stared at him the entire time, though the Emperor pretended not to notice.
“Piso,” Tiberius spoke, “was my father’s representative and friend and was appointed by myself, on the advice of the Senate, to assist Germanicus in the administration of the East. Whether he provoked the young prince by willful opposition and rivalry, and had rejoiced at his death or wickedly destroyed him, is for you to determine with minds unbiased. Certainly if a subordinate oversteps the bounds of duty and of obedience to his commander, and has exulted in his death and in my affliction, I shall hate him and exclude him from my house, and I shall avenge a personal quarrel without resorting to my power as Emperor. If, however, a crime is discovered which is punishable, whoever the murdered man may be, it is for you to give just reparation both to the children of Germanicus and to us, his parents.
“Consider this, too, whether Piso dealt with the armies in a revolutionary and seditious spirit; whether he sought by intrigue, popularity with the soldiers; whether he attempted to repossess himself of the province by arms, or whether these are falsehoods which his accusers have published with exaggeration. As for them, I am justly angry with their intemperate zeal. For what purpose did they strip the corpse, and expose it to the pollution of the vulgar gaze, and circulate a story among foreigners that he was destroyed by poison, if all this is still doubtful and requires investigation?
“For my part, I sorrow for my son and shall always sorrow for him; still I would not hinder the accused from producing all the evidence which can relieve his innocence or convict Germanicus of any unfairness, if such there was. And I implore you not to take as proven charges alleged, merely because the case is intimately bound up with my affliction. Do you, whom ties of blood or your own true-heartedness have made his advocates, help him in his peril, every one of you, as far as each man's eloquence and diligence can do so. To like exertions and like persistency I would urge the prosecutors. In this, and in this only, will we place Germa
nicus above the laws, by conducting the inquiry into his death in this house instead of in the forum, and before the Senate instead of before a bench of judges. In all else let the case be tried as simply as others. Let no one heed the tears of Drusus or my own sorrow, or any stories invented
to our discredit.”1
A silence fell over the hall. The senators were even more perplexed than before. None could fully gage the Emperor’s intent. Did he wish them to convict or acquit? And what reparations would there be if they passed the wrong verdict? All were terrified of incurring Tiberius’ wrath, should they displease him.
For his own part, Tiberius had been intentionally evasive. He was honest when he said he wanted the Senate to pass sentence fairly and without bias. If they voted the way they thought he wanted them to, then there was no justice and the trial would be a complete farce.
Tiberius did, in fact, mourn the loss of Germanicus. He was fond of the young man who had proven himself time and again. He had vanquished the Cherusci and avenged the treachery of Teutoburger Wald. The only solace Tiberius could find in the loss of Germanicus was that, at least now, Agrippina would never become Empress. He wondered if that was part of her mourning. He shuddered at the thought of what it would have been like had Germanicus attained the imperial throne with that bitch trying to rule through him. Livia had held tremendous influence over Augustus. However, her methods were subtle and non-self-serving. Agrippina, on the other hand, would seek to assert herself fully, demanding power and majesty onto her own person. Tiberius then contemplated his son’s wife. Since Drusus was now his heir, would Livilla serve him well as Empress? Livilla was a spoiled little girl in Tiberius’ mind, but harmless enough. She would be quite content to throw lavish banquets and entertain senators and foreign royalty.