Soldier of Rome: Heir to Rebellion (The Artorian Chronicles)

by James Mace

  “Looks like you just got yourself an additional duty,” Macro stated once Proculus had left.

  “Hmm, well I would like to get out of the city every once in a while and see a bit of the country,” Artorius replied. Macro grinned and snorted.

  “Are we seeking to employ another slave army?” Radek asked as he and Heracles walked away from the slave pens on Four Corners Road, their faces covered by their hoods.

  “In a manner of speaking,” his Greek master replied. “We will be more…subtle in our approach this time. An entire army of slaves would be too difficult to control. Besides, I told you we would not be facing the legions head-on this time.” Radek allowed himself a wicked grin.

  “One of our men has been keeping an eye on the legionary and urban cohorts for some time,” Heracles continued. “In peace they have fallen into a pattern of predictability. I now know exactly what times they conduct shift changes; indeed there is a long period of time where the area around the slave market is devoid of any type of protection at all.” Soon they arrived back the flat that Heracles had procured. Waiting for them was one of the freed slaves, a rather meek and unassuming fellow. In spite of this Heracles had at last found a use for the man.

  The slave was older and going bald with a boyish face that looked like it never required a shave. But Heracles sought to exploit his services, not his looks.

  “I have a task for you,” he stated.

  “Yes Master,” the slave replied, hands folded in front of him and eyes on the floor.

  Chapter VII: Lady Diana

  It was over forty miles from Lugdunum to the Proculus estate. Artorius had tried getting Macro to allow one of his legionaries to accompany him, but the Centurion had rejected the notion. Horses were in short supply as it was, and the Master of Horse only begrudgingly allowed the Decanus to take one of his prized mounts as his own. So while he would not have the company of one of his friends to break the monotony, Artorius had a vivid enough imagination and appreciation for the natural countryside to keep his mind occupied.

  Artorius was indeed glad to be away from the city for a couple days and found he appreciated the solitude. The open country appealed to him greatly, plus he knew who it was he would have to see on these trips. He grinned at the thought. The last time he had laid eyes on Lady Diana Procula had been in the Lugdunum forum the year previously. Given that he had been so distracted staring at her that he had walked head-first into a pillar was but a minor detail. He still did not know if she had witnessed his folly or not, and if so did she remember? His mind wandered as his thoughts turned to the focal point of his infatuation. He tried to sort out in his mind what he knew about Diana from what he hoped to find out.

  He knew that she was of the Proculeas family, of which Centurion Proculus’ family was related in some way. He also knew that Diana’s little sister, Claudia, was betrothed to his good friend, Pontius Pilate. Outside of that there was not much else to know. Artorius did not know Diana’s age, but surmised that she was older than him. What was puzzling then was that she was unwed; for Roman women, especially those from influential houses, almost never stayed unwed into their twenties. At least her little sister was betrothed, yet Artorius heard nothing regarding Diana. He wondered if there was a family secret; a scandal perhaps, that kept her single. He then laughed out loud at the notion of a lowly legionary taking advantage of the situation. Such a story would make for a great theater production, though that realization just emphasized the fantasy nature of what he was thinking. The theater dealt in dramatizations and exaggerations, not on reality.

  “Well if nothing else, perhaps she’ll let me take advantage of that gorgeous body of hers,” he mused aloud. This was a far more plausible scenario, at least in his mind. Diana was indeed a striking woman with beautiful features and an extremely fit body that looked like it had not been ravaged by torments of childbirth. As he thought about what he would like to do to that body, Artorius suddenly became uncomfortable in the saddle of his mount.

  “I am speechless, Caesar,” Sejanus said as he stared in awe at the statue. Tiberius had taken his confidant to the Theater of Pompey to show him prior to the official unveiling the statue that he had erected in Sejanus honor.

  “You are the partner in my labors,” Tiberius explained, “and I think the people of Rome need to have that made clear to them.” The Theater of Pompey was the largest in the known world where thousands of patrons flocked to witness the spectacle that is the stage. That the Emperor would place a statue of the Praetorian Prefect in such a public place was a loud statement indeed. But Tiberius wasn’t done yet bestowing honors upon his favorite.

  “Yours is the highest rank that one of the Equestrian Class can ever hope to attain,” he stated. Sejanus nodded in reply.

  “Yes, and it is one I hope I have done honor to,” he replied with mock humbleness. Deep inside Sejanus resented the fact that his mere birth kept him from attaining a higher office. His ambition knew no bounds and his determination was relentless. Secretly he dared to think that he could someday sit where Tiberius sat. And unwittingly the Emperor himself was slowly removing the obstacles in his way.

  “You have done more than honor the post,” Tiberius said. “You have been my right hand when all others have failed me. Therefore I feel it is only right that we elevate your position further. How would feel about being awarded the Praetorship?”

  “I would be honored, Caesar. However, there isn’t much precedent for one of my birth to hold such a lofty position.”

  “That is true,” Tiberius conceded. “And no doubt there will be grumblings within the senate. But when I make it clear to them that my wish is for the partner of my labors to be elevated to this position, no doubt they will fold.”

  As the two men continued to walk around the amphitheater, Sejanus could not believe his good fortune. In the time of the Republic the Praetor was a man of enormous responsibility; tasked with relieving the judicial burden on the Consuls, as well as given the authority to field an army in dire emergencies when both Consuls were already in the field. After the rise of the Emperors, Augustus had changed the duties to those of an imperial administrator and advisor, rather than a magistrate. His power was still immense, with much focus placed on judicial matters. Twelve Praetors had served under Augustus, with Tiberius increasing the number to fifteen. Sejanus would become the sixteenth and most powerful, even though he would be the only non-senator in its ranks.

  At length the estate came into view. Farm fields dotted the region around the manner house. At the bottom of the gradual slope Artorius rode up to a grove of trees running perpendicular to the road. He guided his horse over to an apple tree and dismounted. He then plucked a pair of ripe red apples, giving one to the horse before remounting. He finished his own as he rode through the gates of the manor house. A twenty foot wall surrounded it, with all vegetation cut back from the outside of the wall. The only exception was a massive oak with several branches that hung over the wall on the west side. He speculated that some of the branches might support the weight of a man, if he was sure of balance.

  He dismounted and handed the reins to a servant. He then removed the parcel and letters and walked slowly towards the door, taking in the sights of the estate grounds the whole time. Much had been renovated since Proculus had taken over. The manor had belonged to a wealthy Gaul, and while elaborate, Proculus sought to wipe the Gallic influence away and “Romanize” the estate. Indigenous religious shrines and relics were replaced with statues of the Roman pantheon. On either side of the large double-doors were life-size statues of Mars and Diana. Artorius grinned at the coincidence of Diana Procula having a statue of her namesake outside her front door. As if he was expected, the doors were opened from the inside, a small and balding servant pushing his way through.

  “How may we be of service, noble Decanus?” he asked with a short bow.

  “I bring parcels and letters from Centurion Proculus to the Lady Diana,” Artorius replied.

 
; “Of course, Sir,” the servant said with a nod of his head. Artorius followed him in into a well-lit entrance hall. An elaborate set of marble stairs rose off to the left; indeed everything inside seemed to be made of marble. Artorius knew that were the estate not confiscated from a Gallic rebel Proculus could never have afforded such luxury. Statues and vases adorned every niche and pedestal. They came to a side entrance with no door that led into an enclosed garden. Inside was a raised dais that was as yet undecorated with either statues or foliage. Instead there was a platter with a pitcher of wine and two brass goblets.

  A large, elaborate trough for small plants ran along the wall to the left. It was here that Artorius first laid eyes on Lady Diana since that day in the Lugdunum market. Her back was to him, but still he gasped. Instead of the more feminine stola she wore a short tunic top that was open partway down the back. Though she looked soft to the touch, her back was defined with well-developed muscle. He was not aware that he was standing with his mouth wide open as the servant approached her.

  “Yes, what is it Proximo?” she asked. It was the first time Artorius had heard her voice and it enraptured him. There was nothing special about it; it was after all just a woman’s voice. He knew his infatuation was getting the best of him and they had not even spoken to each other yet!

  “A courier from your cousin, the Noble Proculus,” Proximo replied, his hands folded in front of him. Diana nodded curtly and continued working on the small plant she was pruning. Proximo then turned to address the Decanus. “My apologies, but I did not catch Sir’s name.”

  “Sergeant Artorius of the Third Cohort’s Second Century.” It sounded lame, even to him. He had hoped to sound impressive, though he now felt foolish; as if a noble woman would be impressed by the rank of a mere plebian. Diana placed down her small sheers and spun around on her stool to apprise the soldier her cousin had sent. She cocked her head to one side, a slight smile forming.

  “Have I seen you before?” she asked. Artorius swallowed hard before answering, “Possibly.” Diana’s face broke into a full grin as she addressed him once more.

  “I now remember where I’ve seen you.” She turned back to her plant and Artorius could not tell if she was stifling a laugh or not. He sighed and rolled his eyes; Carbo’s favorite expression echoing in his mind. Nice one, dumbass!

  “Just leave the parcels with Proximo,” Diana said over her shoulder. Artorius complied, handing the package and letters with the servant who stood beside his mistress. Diana then turned to him once more. “There’s wine if you’d care to sit with me for a while.” Artorius grinned and walked briskly back to the dais. He inhaled the aroma of the wine before he started to pour. This was not cheap tavern wine by any stretch.

  “Would my Lady like some too?” he asked, turning back towards her.

  “Of course,” Diana replied. Artorius was breathing heavily, even though he done no physical exertion. His hand trembled slightly as he set the cup down next to Diana. He caught himself breathing in deeply through his nose, trying his best to catch her scent.

  “You seem a bit flushed,” Diana observed out of the corner of her eye. “Please, feel free to remove your armor and relax.” Artorius was only too happy to comply. While a lifesaver in combat, the lorica segmentata was a cumbersome burden at any other time one had to wear it. He removed his belt and gladius, setting them on the dais. It took him a minute to undo all the leather ties on his armor and work his way out of it. He then removed his padded shoulder covers that he wore underneath and set them next to the rest of his kit. He then tightened up the rope belt he always wore when just in his tunic and returned to his seat, wine in hand. He desperately tried to think of things to talk to this enchanting lady about.

  “I take it my cousin is doing well?” Diana asked, breaking the awkward silence as she continued to work on the shrub. Artorius nodded while contemplating his answer.

  “He’s doing well enough,” he replied diplomatically. “My Lady will have to forgive me, but I scarcely see him.” He cringed as he realized the error of his words.

  “Of course,” Diana replied. “My apologies; I had forgotten that a Decanus would have little interaction with the Centurion Pilus Prior.” Artorius closed his eyes hard as she stated the very thing he hoped she would not. His inferior status was shoved right into his face, whether the Lady had meant to or not. She was of a much higher social standing than her cousin; and Artorius did not even rate exchanging pleasantries with him!

  “Well I do tend to see him more than the rest of the Decanii…at least more so than those not in his First Century.” Damn but he was pathetic! He downed his entire goblet of wine and quickly went back to serve himself some more. When he returned he elected not to sit down.

  “You’re a big one,” Diana observed, looking his way once more. Artorius grinned.

  “Why thank you; I will take that as a compliment.”

  “It was meant as one,” she replied with a short nod to the side. Artorius then looked down for a second before addressing her again.

  “My Lady, please do not mistake my being but a plebian soldier…” his words were cut short as Diana raised a hand, silencing him.

  “I think no such thing,” she replied. “My cousin, while not of noble birth, is an honorable man; as I take it are the men who serve under him.” Artorius nodded in response. “He speaks highly of the men who have fought beside him in battle. You have served in battle, have you not?” Artorius grimaced and looked down once more. While it was a more familiar topic, it was not one that he felt was appropriate.

  “More times than I’d care to remember,” he said with a sigh. Diana looked off to the side, thinking about his words.

  “Proculus has said the same thing many times. And yet you look so young.”

  “I am older than I look,” Artorius replied, “but yes, in the large scheme of things I am still very young. In fact, I am the youngest Decanus in the Cohort.”

  “That’s no small accomplishment,” Diana spoke with genuine admiration. “I think I now remember where I heard your name before. About a year ago I was in Cologne to see Proculus and Vorena. There was a spectacular festival going on, along with a tournament involving the legion’s best fighters.”

  “You were there for that?” Artorius asked astonished that he had not noticed her even though the crowd had numbered in the thousands.

  “I doubt that you would have seen me,” Diana replied. “I sat in one of the newly-renovated covered boxes that sat up high. Vorena said she did not want to sit out in the sun; and besides, Proculus insisted on sitting with that rowdy lot of a Cohort! You looked good, by the way.” Artorius felt his face turn red as he thought about Diana seeing him in one of his proudest moments.

  “Thank you, my Lady.”

  “I mean you all do look alike, what with the exact same clothing and helmets covering your heads. You did stand out to me, though. I figure it must have been your size that gave you away. I remember watching you get practically mauled by your companions after they presented you the ceremonial gladius.” Artorius grinned, though he elected not to go into further detail, especially given what he did later that evening. Granted the night he spent with those two young lasses was one of his fonder memories.

  “I have to say, I was quite fascinated,” Diana continued. “I’ve been to gladiatorial matches before, but they looked amateurish compared to the way legionaries fight.”

  “We did put that theory to the test one time,” Artorius said. “During the Triumph of Germanicus our Optio, who was also the man who taught me how to fight, challenged a gladiator in the arena. Let’s just say the end result made some men a lot of money, to include Centurion Proculus.”

  “I heard about that,” Diana remembered. “You mentioned the Triumph of Germanicus. You are indeed older than you look if you took part in the wars against the Cherusci.”

  “I served in the last two of Germanicus’ three campaigns,” Artorius replied.

  “Will you tell me abo
ut them sometime?” Diana asked. Artorius took a slow breath while he thought about it. Did he really want Diana to know about his quest to avenge his brother that brought on sheer bloodlust? While she would no doubt be awe-inspired by tales of valor against the barbaric hordes, she would be equally repelled when hearing about the utter brutality of the war that did not take place on the battlefield. How would she react, knowing that he had murdered entire families, to include women and small children, in cold blood? He elected for a more cordial and noncommittal answer.

  “Sometime,” he said.

  “Fair enough,” Diana replied with a friendly smile. “I have to say…” She stopped in mid-sentence, a strange look crossing her face. She looked away, her smile vanishing as she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. When she opened her eyes once more they were no longer warm and inviting. She was staring at the ground, her breathing coming more quickly and deeply.

  “Are you alright, my Lady?” Artorius asked, concerned by the sudden change in her demeanor. “I hope I have not offended you.”

  “You’re fine,” Diana replied curtly. She then stood and walked briskly towards the doorway. “Have whatever’s left of the wine before you leave.” She was gone before Artorius could inquire further. He sought to follow her, but was stopped by the servant Proximo.

  “Please, Sir must forgive Domina,” he said respectfully. “She can only be in the company of a man for so long before it becomes too much for her. She did last far longer with you than with most, I admit.”

  “Before what becomes too much for her?” Artorius asked, suddenly irritated. Proximo then raised his hands in resignation.

  “It is not for me to tell Sir,” he replied as he lowered his head, fully expecting to be chastised. Instead Artorius returned to the garden and finished the wine in the pitcher without bother to use a cup. He then walked over to where Diana’s goblet sat. It was almost full. He finished it in a single pull and left out the side entrance, not wishing to cross through the house again.