by James Mace
Chapter XIX: Into the Shadows
***
Artorius opened the window of their barracks flat and stretched his arms overhead as the morning breeze caressed him. After a deep breath he rested his hands on the sill. He gazed upon the city, which was just starting to come awake. His flat looked over the city’s lower aqueduct, which led into the forum. He watched as an ornate litter made its way into the slowly filling markets. Over his shoulder he heard Magnus let out a rather loud and obnoxious yawn.
“So where to today?” the Norseman asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
The section was tasked with ‘city patrol’ that day; a term that was vague at best. Proculus’ only stipulation was that sections on patrol duty make their presence known throughout the city, thereby making the populace feel secure. Lugdunum had its own urban police, who were little more than hired men armed with clubs tasked with keeping the peace. The sight of legionaries within the cities gave the citizens confidence and a sense of ease.
“I think we’ll hit the forum this morning,” Artorius replied, his gaze still fixed on the litter. “Looks like we’ve got some patrician guests, We’d better make them feel at home.”
“Hmm,” Magnus replied, his thoughts elsewhere.
Artorius had moved his bunk and desk into the rear room of the flat where the section stored its weapons and kit. The rooms were significantly larger than those of a legionary barracks, With a little rearranging, Artorius was able to have his own room with a relative sense of privacy. His soldiers lived in the other room and were able to spread their bunks out so as not to have to stack them on top of each other.
He opened the door to the section bay and walked over to the shuttered windows. He pulled these open as Magnus proceeded to kick the bunks of the legionaries.
“Another beautiful morning, fellas!” Artorius shouted.
“Piss off,” he heard Carbo mutter as he pulled his blanket over his head.
Artorius raised an eyebrow at the remark, grabbed Carbo’s gladius--still in the scabbard--from the end of his bunk and brought the flat of the weapon down in a brutal smash across the legionary’s buttocks.
“Ouch!” Carbo bellowed as he pitched out of his bunk, head-first into the wall.
“You dumbass,” Decimus snickered as his fellow legionary stumbled over his bunk, one hand cover his forehead, the other on his buttocks. Decimus elbowed him in the ribs “Know who you’re talking to before you get castrated for insubordination!”
“Alright, let’s get moving,” Artorius ordered. “You all know what your duties are this morning. Gavius get started on breakfast. I want everyone cleaned up, shaved, and ready to patrol in one hour. And Carbo, you’ve got latrines for the next week and are banned from the taverns during that time.”
The legionary hung his head sheepishly and nodded. Carbo knew he had been spending too much time at the ale houses. A week sober, along with some correctional details, would do him good.
The forum was starting to fill with patrons by the time Artorius arrived with his section. Imperial cities were an odd mix of peoples from the very corners of the Empire and beyond. There was one particular merchant who proclaimed he was from the very end of the world. Given the man’s appearance, it was believable. He was shorter than average, with a face that bore a slight resemblance to the barbarians from the far east Steppes; however, he had stated that he was from a region to the south of, and even further east. His trade involved mostly spices and medicinal herbs which he said took a full year to reach him from the ends of the earth. It was here that Artorius found the patrons he was looking for.
A litter, along with several attendants, sat next to the oriental spice shop. Artorius was a bit surprised to see Centurion Proculus talking with the two ladies who had been riding in the litter.
“Looks like Proculus beat us to it,” Magnus observed.
Artorius looked back at his legionaries. All were kitted in full armor; however, he felt that shields and javelins would have been too cumbersome to carry through the crowded city and had his men armed with gladii only.
“Looks that way,” he replied, with a touch or resignation. “Alright, let’s head over to the docks; there’s usually something of interest going on down there.”
“I heard that the Scriptorium has a copy of Horace’s Odes IV,” Decimus said. “Can we stop by there? I’ve wanted to read that for some time.”
“I don’t see why not,” Artorius replied as he turned back around, ignoring Carbo’s remarks regarding Decimus’ literacy. As they started to march away, his eyes glanced back towards the pair of ladies with Centurion Proculus. One was very young, still a few years away from womanhood. It was the elder one that caught the decanus’ eye.
She was almost as tall as Artorius, with shoulder-length hair that, as was the latest fashion, dyed a dark blonde. Her stola could not hide the athletic curves of her body and Artorius found no way to describe the beauty that seemed to radiate from her face. Her smile was warm and inviting, her eyes dark and piercing. So enraptured was Artorius that he did not notice the pillar until he walked into it with a crash of his helm. His vision blurred for a second as his head jarred to the side. He stepped back and looked around, though no one seemed to have noticed his mishap aside from his legionaries, who were trying to suppress their sniggering.
“Well, I’ll be buggered,” he said, his face turning red. “How long has that pillar been there?”
From across the street he saw Proculus raise his eyebrows and give a short laugh of amusement. His lady companion turned and looked Artorius’ way. Her eyes snared his gaze, and he found that he could not look away. She gave him a friendly smile, and he winked at her in reply. Proculus then took her by the arm and escorted the two women away, all the while suppressing his amusement.
Daily drill and training complete, Pilate was relieved to finally be able to take his friend Justus up on getting together for a spot of wine and storytelling. He invited the optio to his residence; a rather plush and ostentatious house near the Praetorian barracks.
“Justus, old boy!” he said boisterously as his friend walked onto the covered balcony where Pilate had directed servants to bring the wine and appetizers.
“It’s been too long,” Justus replied as the two embraced and smacked each other hard on the back.
Each then stepped back to appraise the other, for it had been ten years since last they saw each other.
Justus Longinus was a big man, slightly shorter than Pilate, but with a broad, powerful frame. His red hair was already starting to thin, something Pilate made note of immediately.
“And you’re already starting to turn a bit grey!” Justus replied with friendly sarcasm.
Pilate laughed and waved him to a seat. “So tell me, what brought you all the way back here from the east?”
Justus gave a shrug. “It seems the governor wanted a representative to act as a liaison between the eastern provinces and Rome. He wanted it kept low-key, so they decided to send a ranker under the premise of working with the Praetorians. The very day I was promoted to optio, I get my assignment orders.”
“Well, it has to have been a nice change of pace for you,” Pilate conjectured.
Justus took a long pull of his wine. “I admit that it’s been pretty decent. Though Flavia was probably more excited about it than I was.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Pilate had momentarily forgotten about Justus’ young wife, given that, for the most part, soldiers below the rank of centurion were forbidden from marrying. “I never understood how you were able to stay married once you joined the legions.”
“It wasn’t too hard,” Justus said. “Flavia’s father, you remember, is a rather wealthy grain merchant. Well, let’s just say that a spot of coin in the right hands and all of the sudden I had a special dispensation that allowed me to remain married.”
Pilate smirked. “It’s ironic how a little gold can buy an exception to almost any rule. Still, I am happy for you. Flavia
is a good woman. And how is little Gaius?”
“Not so little anymore,” Justus sighed, “though he’s still a royal pain in my ass!”
“Well, that’s how sons are,” Pilate laughed. “How old is he now?”
“Almost eleven,” the optio replied, “and little Gaia will be two in a month. So, do tell, when are you going to start having children?”
“You forget, Claudia is still a young girl, scarcely older than your Gaius,” Pilate answered.
“A beautiful prize, that one, if she blossoms into anything resembling her sister,” Justus added, as he took another pull off his wine. His remark caused Pilate to wince. “Did I say something to offend, old friend?”
Pilate shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I do not deny that Diana is a strikingly gorgeous woman. However, you must remember that she was married and subsequently divorced at a young age, once it was discovered that she could not bear children.”
“Yes, I forgot about that,” Justus replied, a look of concern crossing his face. “You don’t think Claudia suffers from the same affliction, do you?”
“I hope not. It would be a shame to be betrothed for all these years, only to have to divorce right away because she cannot have children. What a shame it would be if the Pontius line ended with me.” Pilate drained his goblet and reminisced in silence for a minute. He then cheerfully acknowledged his friend. “At least we know the Longinus line will continue after you!”
“True,” Justus remarked. “Gaius is a good lad. He’s strong, intelligent, and eager. It’s this last trait that gets him in trouble. He tries so hard to please me, but in doing so he becomes reckless. I do hope when he gets older he’ll be able to temper his aggression with prudence.”
“Think he’ll follow you into the legions?”
Justus nodded immediately at Pilate’s question.
“Without a doubt. He’s incredibly smart, and his potential is unlimited no matter what career path he chooses. However, I know that in his heart he wants to be a soldier. I can’t say I’m disappointed, although I do make certain he studies his academic lessons well. If my son is going to be a legionary, then he will be an educated one!”
Pilate smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm. Justus was not known for showing emotions of any sort to his children, and yet he could not stop from beaming when talking about them to his friends. Inside Pilate wondered if Gaius would ever know how his father felt about him.
“So,” Justus said, changing topics, “what do think of the Praetorians so far?”
“They’re not bad,” Pilate replied with a shrug. “Rather pompous, most of them. But then I guess they have earned that right.”
“Yeah, most of them just avoid me if they can,” Justus observed. “They see me as nothing more than a minor irritant; not only because I am but a soldier from the legions, but also because they know my purpose here is not simply to build goodwill between the rankers and the Praetorians. They know the eastern governors do not trust all that comes through the imperial post, but they did not want to cause a stir by having to dispatch a diplomat.”
“And is there reason for them to feel they are being left in the dark?” Pilate’s voice was lined with concern.
Justus sought to dispel it. “It’s not that bad. I mean, everyone knows your boss, Sejanus, screens everything going in and out through the imperial post. However, I think the eastern legates are given all the information that is relevant to their duties. If anything, Sejanus censors the bits of unsubstantiated gossip that would only serve to tarnish the Emperor’s good name and act as a distraction to the governors. A private courier comes about once every six weeks to see what information I may have. I give them just enough to keep them intrigued, and therefore keep me here in Rome.”
Pilate laughed and slapped his friend on the shoulder. Justus was a good soldier; one who had seen his fair share of battle in the east. He despised being used as a political pawn. However, with no wars to fight he figured he would make the best of his situation. Pilate could only do the same.
“So who in the bloody hell was that?” Artorius asked later, when the section was sitting at a table outside a café by the docks.
“Diana Procula,” Decimus replied without missing a beat.
All eyes turned towards the legionary who was busily devouring his lunch of strip steak and freshly baked bread. He looked up and stopped chewing when he saw his companions staring at him.
“What?” he asked with a shrug. “She’s Proculus’ cousin, or at least some type of relative. She came here to see him before going off to run his new country estate.”
“What of the young girl?” Magnus asked.
“That’s her sister, Claudia,” Decimus replied through a mouthful of bread.
Gavius nearly choked on his wine. “That’s not our Pilate’s Claudia is it?”
Decimus nodded in reply.
“I knew she was young, I just did not realize she was still a little girl.”
“Well, that works for Pilate,” Magnus conjectured. “From what I remember, he loves the bachelor life, and he won’t have to marry her for some years yet. Getting the betrothal out of the way just secures his alliance with her family, which, I must say, is quite influential.”
“That they are,” Decimus concurred.
Artorius remained quiet. He had hardly spoken a word since they left the forum. He knew that Diana Procula was of the patrician class and therefore off limits to a lowly legionary. And yet he could not help but still feel enraptured by her gaze. In the moment that he had been able to lay his eyes on her, he knew that she exuded everything he found most noble; a strong mind, a physically fit body, a noble yet kind demeanor, and to say nothing of her sheer physical beauty.
“Artorius, you haven’t said much,” Carbo remarked as everyone turned their attention from Decimus to their decanus.
“Huh?” Artorius shook his head quickly, clearing his mind. “Sorry, I was miles away.”
“No you weren’t,” Carbo retorted. “You were still back in the forum, admit it!”
Artorius’ blushing caused his friends to start laughing and heckling him in their amusement.
“Alright, so maybe I was still back there,” he replied. “You can’t tell me none of you were stunned by her beauty.”
“To be honest, we were all too busy watching you run into the pillar,” Magnus said, causing Artorius to turn an even deeper shade of red.
“I caught sight of her,” Carbo remarked, eyes looking distant. “She really is beautiful; clearly out of any of our league, though. I wouldn’t even know what to do with someone like that.”
Valens put his arm around Carbo’s shoulder and started to speak in a consolatory tone. “Well, you see it’s like this; when a man and a woman who love each other very much . . . actually they don’t necessarily have to love each other . . . in fact, as a man even liking them is really optional . . . anyway, they get these certain urges . . .”
A quick rap from the back of Carbo’s hand interrupted the rest of his dissertation. “Alright, finish up and let’s get ready to move out,” Artorius ordered. “There’s a new slaver in town that set up shop by Four Corners Road, and I want to make certain he’s keeping a watchful eye on his wares.”
As the section donned their helmets and started away from the docks, Magnus gave him a smack on the shoulder. “If it helps, I know the town brothel got in some new stock yesterday. You might be able to get something fresh and unspoiled, if you know what I mean.” “Those girls are expensive!” Valens complained.
“You get what you pay for,” Gavius observed.
Valens could only shrug and nod in reply.
Artorius took a deep breath and stepped out ahead of his men. They were right, of course. Someone like Lady Diana would view the likes of him as little more than a serf, even if her cousin had come from similarly humble beginnings. He would have to settle for spending a few coins on some new and exotic entertainment to satisfy what he figured was nothing more than
overborne lust.
He was still adjusting to their new assignment, but after the Sacrovir Revolt, he knew he owed it to himself to enjoy his good fortune. Policing a rapidly growing city was far different than securing the frontier against rampaging barbarians, or suppressing rebellions when outnumbered and uncertain as to who one’s allies were. Still, it was part of his duties as a soldier of Rome.
Heracles strode through the rubble and ash that still smoldered; the charred remains of Sacrovir’s mansion house. The Romans had taken anything of value that they had been able to find. Corpses were left where they lay. He climbed over mounds of fallen roof tiles and collapsed walls, searching for . . . well, he was not sure exactly what.
He came to the remains of the great hall they had been meeting in. The roof, as well as the entire second story, had collapsed on this area. The charred ruins of furniture still smoked, even though the rains had long since put out the fires. And then he saw it, a glint in the gloom of the destroyed building. He crawled over until he could see it plainly; a gilded sword handle, sticking out of the pile of rubble. It was Sacrovir’s weapon, the one he had had made by the best smiths in all of Gaul.
Heracles pulled hard on the handle, slowly the debris giving way as the weapon came up and out. The blade was covered in dark crimson, Sacrovir’s blood. Heracles knew the man lay charred and buried beneath the wreckage. As he gazed upon the sword, a fierce sense of determination welled up inside him. The Gauls were not his native people, yet it was Sacrovir who had liberated him. In that, a debt was owed to the man. Into the shadows would Heracles go; from thence he would rise again. He would see Sacrovir’s dream to fruition. He would raise another rebellion, stronger than before, and he would liberate Gaul!
“All in due time,” he said to himself in a sinister voice, his eyes burning with hate.
*Historical notes*
Every novel within the Soldier of Rome series is historically based, at least as much as I have been able to make possible. While I have to take considerable literary license whenever there is a gap in historical records, at no time have I deliberately altered recorded history. Given that historical sources often-times conflict with each other, there is still room for interpretation and dispute. This is very much the case in The Legionary, where accounts of the Battle of Idistaviso are disputed by Germanic and Latin sources. In these cases, I have had to decide either which text was most believable or, at least, which would best go with my story. Germanic sources do not even mention the assault on the Angrivarii stronghold, though it is detailed by the Roman historian, Tacitus.