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

by James Mace

  “Well that was a bit weird,” he stated out loud as his horse started out the main gate of the manor house. He wondered if Lady Diana was unwed because she was completely mental. Then again, if she were he doubted that Proculus would have asked her to oversee his estate for him.

  It was almost nightfall when Artorius arrived back at Lugdunum. He stabled his horse and made his way back to the barracks flat. It was dark inside, with the only sound coming from Decimus’ loud snoring. The legionary had come down with a fever earlier in the week and was confined to bed rest while doped up on the gods knew what. Artorius realized he wasn’t remotely tired and that his loins needed some serious relief. Self-pleasuring himself on the road had been amusing, but by no means satisfying. With an air of determination he grabbed his money pouch and made for his favorite brothel.

  He walked in to the dimly lit house, where a curtain of beads hung in the entranceway. The madam gave him a smile and walked over to him. She was certainly not an unattractive woman in her own right; probably in her early forties, with a pleasant face average-sized body. Artorius wondered what tricks of the trade she could teach him.

  “I’m going to have to start charging you extra,” she scolded, pointing an accusing finger at him, though she bore a bemused grin. “You leave my girls marked and worn to the point that they are of no use to me for at least a couple days!” Artorius shook his money pouch and smiled back.

  “Oh I’m sure I can make it worth your while,” he said with a wink. The madam nodded curtly and guided him through an open doorway and onto a waiting couch. The room reeked of the incense burners that hung in every corner. Here was where clients were allowed to peruse the wares before deciding on a playmate for the evening.

  “Any special requests tonight?” the madam asked with her hand on her hip. She rather liked the young Decanus. He paid well, plus her girls found him exciting even when he did leave them savaged with visible bite marks apparent.

  “Well you know I have my favorites,” Artorius replied; his chin resting in his hand in contemplation. “However, I think I’d rather fancy something a bit more fresh and unspoiled if you know what I mean.”

  “Hmm, I do indeed.” The madam looked up, deep in thought for the moment. Her eyes then glowed in realization. “Of course! I’ve got one who just came to us yesterday. Pretty little thing; don’t know what her experiences were before but at least she hasn’t been broken in here yet.”

  “Excellent!” Artorius said, smacking his hands together in anticipation. “ How young is she?”

  “Fairly so. I know she’s of age, but yes she is a young one. Kind of petite too, so you’ll have to be gentle with her. No biting this one yet!”

  “Well, perhaps someone would care to accompany me to show me how to be gentle with one so delicate.” There was a gleam in Artorius’ eye and the madam immediately picked up on it.

  “Are you coming on to me?” she asked, her face showing her disbelief. Artorius replied with a shrug.

  “I might be,” he confessed, his own grin broadening. The woman laughed out loud.

  “Oh my,” she replied. “Well you know I myself am not for sale. I simply keep this house in order and take care of the girls is all.”

  “Sure,” Artorius conceded, “but you cannot tell me that a woman of your experience doesn’t have certain…abilities. Perhaps you can teach both of us a thing or two. Call it a favor for an old friend.” He winked at his last remark. Her face a deviant smirk, the madam grabbed Artorius by the hands and pulled him to his feet. Her ample breasts felt good pressed against him and she immediately started to massage his engorged manhood through his tunic.

  “You have no idea the things I could teach you,” she whispered into his ear as she flicked it with her tongue.

  “I think you will find me a willing student,” Artorius replied, reaching around and smacking her hard on her bottom, giving it a squeeze. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she was quite firm and not all soft and frumpy. She then guided him to the stairs and told him to wait there. She went to one of the other rooms on the bottom floor and soon returned with a rather attractive young woman, who she gently guided by the hand. She was blonde with a fair complexion. She was fairly short and thin, but at least was filled out in the places a woman was supposed to be. The last thing Artorius wanted was anything that could possibly resemble a boy.

  “Now it’s going to be alright my dear,” the madam said to the girl, who looked like she was trembling a bit. She took a step back when she first set eyes on Artorius, her eyes wide. “This is your first client. Don’t worry; I’ll be there to make sure he doesn’t hurt you.” She then took them both by the arm and guided them upstairs. On the top floor they hear the sounds of boisterous laughter. Artorius was surprised to see both Valens and Svetlana, arms around each other, trying to fumble their way into one of the rooms. Both seemed to be a bit inebriated and having a wonderful time.

  “Hey Artorius!” Valens said in a voice far too loud for how close they were. Svetlana placed her head on Valens’ shoulder and waved at Artorius and his companions. “You should see the new plaything we found! These girls really do know how to have fun!”

  “Yes they do!” Svetlana replied, kissing him aggressively. Artorius laughed and shook his head. It seemed as if Valens had indeed found his true partner in crime, as it were. He then wondered how Magnus would take it if he knew and couldn’t stop laughing at the thought.

  He was taken to one of the vacant rooms where he immediately got out of his restrictive clothes. The madam helped the young girl out of hers, who seemed almost powerless to do anything herself. Artorius apprised her with a raised eyebrow, shrugged, and then went work. The madam had discarded her own clothes and was lying next to them on the oversized bed, massaging herself. Finally she shoved the girl off the young soldier and took her place on top of him.

  “Out of the way girl!” she snapped. “I’ll show you how it’s done. Watch…and learn…” She was a woman who Artorius could be his usual rough self with. The young girl sat at the head of the bed, her legs crossed under her, watching intently. As Artorius’ deviancy came unleashed, the madam would at times grab the girl and have Artorius do to her the same things they had just been doing; only he had to be much gentler with her. After what seemed like a couple hours of pure lust and fury all three of them collapsed. Both Artorius and the madam were panting while the girl trembled slightly.

  “Well that was fun,” the madam said with a loud sigh of relief. She took the girl by the hand and helped her back into her clothes. She then told her something that Artorius could not hear, smacked her on the behind and sent her on her way. Artorius thought he heard the girl crying.

  “Is she going to be alright?” he asked as he sat upright. The madam gave a dismissive wave.

  “Ah, she’ll be fine. They’re all like that at first. Takes a bit for them to get broken in…kind of like a wild horse. Give her a few goes and she’ll quit blubbering and getting all emotional.” She then leaned down and kissed the young soldier passionately. “And feel free to come back here anytime.” With a spring in her step she left him alone. He then thought some more about the young woman they had just ‘broken in.’ He started to take pity on her, wondering what would drive someone to a life of prostitution. He then dismissed the notion. Prostitutes may have been amongst the dregs of society, but they were not slaves; no one forced them to spread their legs for a living!

  Artorius then stretched his arms overhead and decided it was time for him to leave. He threw on his clothes and headed out into the night. It was only when he was halfway back to the flat that he realized they had neither negotiated nor exchanged any money. He laughed and wondered if the madam had given him a free pass, or if in her post-orgasmic glow she had simply forgotten. Within a few days the sense of leisure for the Third Cohort would come to a brutal end.

  Chapter VIII: Rats in a Trap

  Heracles strode casually over to the slave pens, where a loan guard was poste
d. The man looked to be little more than a hired beggar; little more than the quarry he was supposed to safeguard while the master slept. The guard was half asleep and woke with a start as he sensed the Greek’s presence.

  “Hey, the bloody market’s closed,” he said with a defiant sneer, irritated that he was being disturbed. Heracles smirked in reply.

  “I’m not here to buy…merely observe,” he stated.

  “Well there’s nothing to observe either,” the guard retorted, “so move the fuck along before I shove the broad end of my spear up your ass for wasting my time!”

  “Oh dear,” Heracles replied with mock disappointment. “I guess it will be a lesson in manners for you.” As he spoke, Radek snuck up behind the guard, his butcher’s cleaver in hand.

  “Shit,” the guard said, matching Heracles mocking tone. “How about I use you for a bit of sport like I did some of the young ones in there…” His words were cut short by the blow of Radek’s cleaver that severed his head from his spine. The body collapsed to the ground, spear still clutched in the twitching hand as blood gushed from the stump that remained of the neck. After retrieving the keys to the stockade, Heracles picked up the severed head by a shock of hair. The tongue protruded through the man’s rotten teeth as the lips and eyes twitched involuntarily as death took hold.

  “Now there’s a lesson in manners he’ll not soon forget,” Radek said with a grin. A mild coughing fit overtook him as Heracles tossed him the head.

  “Help, please help me; they’ve escaped!” the slave shouted at the top of his lungs. He stood right outside of one of the flats occupied by Roman soldiers. Artorius had just finished tightening the straps on his belt and baldric when the man started screaming. His and Praxus’ sections were scheduled for night patrol for the next three weeks and they were finishing their preparations to go on duty.

  “Who the bloody hell is that?” Valens asked, perturbed. Carbo gave a sigh.

  “And I thought it would be a quiet one tonight,” he remarked.

  “Somebody…anybody…please help me!” the man outside continued to scream. Artorius rushed outside, almost running into Praxus as both men ran down the flight of steps and over to where the slave was pacing frantically in circles, screaming at the top of his lungs.

  “What the hell is the meaning of this?” Artorius shouted, grabbing the slave by the ear and pulling him down to his knees.

  “Hey, what’s going on out there?” a legionary from one of the other flats asked, still half asleep.

  “We’ve got it,” Praxus replied, “go back to bed.” In his irritation Artorius cuffed the screaming man across the face.

  “Shut the fuck up already!”

  “Please kind sir, you must help me!” the slave pleaded. “My master has sent me from Four Corners plaza. The merchandise has all escaped! They burned down the stockade. Look and see for yourself!” He pointed frantically over his shoulder as Artorius held him down by his ear.

  “Son of a bitch,” Praxus said in a low voice as they caught sight of the flames that reached just over the top of the low-lying buildings in the market square. “Here!” he shouted to the legionary who was sleepily making his way back into his flat, “summon the fire watch!” The soldier’s eyes grew wide as he caught sight of the flames.

  “Right away!” he shouted back as he raced down the street towards where the urban cohort and the fire watch were housed.

  “Let’s go round up some slaves,” Artorius said to Praxus as he released the frightened man.

  “Yes, yes!” he spoke as he took to his feet. “I know where they went. Come with me and I’ll show you!”

  “Alright,” Artorius replied. He then turned back towards the flat, where both sections stood on the landing awaiting orders. “Shields and javelins!” he shouted.

  “I’m frightened,” Erin said, her hand that held the large knife trembling. Her husband, Tynan, held her close.

  “It will be okay, my love,” he said soothingly. Though he too was petrified at the predicament they found themselves in, he did his best not to show it.

  Both were very young, in their early twenties. They had been slaves their entire lives and when their previous master had died they were sold to a procurer. Erin had been a cook and seamstress while her husband was a gardener. Neither had been exposed to the level of violence that surrounded them. Indeed it was horrific shock they felt when the men in cloaks had come and set them free…or at least freed them from the stockades. They now found themselves huddled in an abandoned warehouse across the way from where they had been penned up. A pile of weapons had lain in the center, torchlight casting an eerie glow on the tarnished metal of short swords, axes, and other crude instruments of death. Many of the men fell upon these with lust and zeal; anxious as they were to fight for their freedom. Erin tended to forget that many slaves endured a much harsher life than the one she had lived thus far.

  “Do you want your freedom?” a hooded man asked the crowd of slaves, his voice raspy and his face hidden in the shadows.

  “Yes!” a young man responded with venom in his voice as he brandished a rusted spatha. “I will fight for my freedom; to the death if need be!” There were mutterings of consent amongst many of the slaves, though others were less certain.

  “If we are free, then why have you taken us here?” Tynan asked, clutching his wife closer. “What do you want with us?” He could make out the trace of a sneer underneath the hood of the man who addressed them.

  “It is a simple task that my master asks of you,” he replied. “The stockade that held you burns, and soon the city garrisons will come.”

  “What of the slaver?” another man asked.

  “He has been…taken care of,” came the reply. Erin swallowed hard in understanding. “You have been given weapons with which to earn your freedom. A detachment of Roman soldiers will soon be led down an alley just outside these doors. Dispose of them and you will have your freedom.”

  “It will be a pleasure,” said the young man who had spoken so enthusiastically a moment before.

  “I don’t like this,” Erin whispered to Tynan. “Why don’t we just rid ourselves of these men and be done with it?” Before her husband could answer the hooded man swooped upon them, his face inches from theirs.

  “Because it is we who have freed you!” he boomed. “Therefore you belong to us now! Do our bidding and you will be slaves no more.” Before either could reply, the man strode away. He stood before the gathering and addressed them once more. “It will soon be time.”

  Time for what? Erin thought to herself.

  Beads of sweat ran down the slave’s face and neck as he raced to the rally point, thirteen legionaries in tow. It was dark; the streets looked so different at night when they were devoid of life. He tripped over an upturned crate and stepped into a pile of mule dung. Though he stumbled and cursed his luck, he continued to scramble through the square until they were just two blocks from where the slave pens burned. The silhouettes of the fire watch resonated in the background as they fought to keep the blaze from spreading. He then breathed a sigh of relief as the glow cast its light on the alley.

  “Here, they went down there!” he said excitedly. “They’re all hiding in the building at the far end, behind the red door!” Shoving the man aside, Artorius and Praxus marched down the alley with their legionaries in tow.

  “Damned runaway slaves,” Valens cursed. “Why can’t they just accept their lot in life and be done with it?”

  “Alright, no unnecessary killing,” Artorius ordered as they stumbled down the dark alley. “Beat them if they refuse to cooperate!” Valens was still cursing under his breath when he ran into a brick wall at the end of the alley.

  “Ouch! Bugger it,” he swore as he readjusted his helmet and looked around. In the dark all they saw was the wall. “Hey, there’s no bloody door here!” The glow behind them was cast with shadows as several dozen people stepped into the alley behind them. The slave who had led them to the alley let out a
laugh that was chocked full of madness.

  “Oh, so sorry!” he laughed. “I guess I must have led you to the wrong alley! Please enjoy the hospitality of my friends!” Though Heracles had ordered him to return as soon as he had led the legionaries to the ambush site, he could not overcome his desire to watch. The slaves had the Romans sorely outnumbered, yet they were at best crudely armed and many had never committed an act of violence in their lives. They stood hesitant as Artorius and Praxus quickly assessed the situation.

  The slaves outnumbered the Romans more than three to one, yet they hesitated. None wished to be the first to initiate combat; not even the young man who spoke so loudly about what a pleasure it would be to kill legionaries. The alley was extremely long and narrow; high stone walls on either side.

  “Stay behind me,” Tynan said quietly to Erin. “I’ll protect you.”

  “Come,” said one of the older men, “the least we can do in gratitude for our freedom is dispatch those who enslaved us to begin with!” He was shirtless with a body covered in scars wrought by the whips of cruel masters. Slowly the rabble started to advance, many of them still in a state of shock and disbelief, the gravity of their predicament had yet to set in. That would soon change.

  “Bastard led us into a trap,” Praxus said with a resigned sigh. Artorius nodded in reply as Gavius stepped forward with his javelin at the ready and filled with rage.

  “Gavius, what are you doing?” Magnus asked as the rest of the legionaries fell into a hasty two ranks formation. Without answering, Gavius’ eyes narrowed as he rapidly judged the distance from him to the traitor. All eyes, except those of the laughing slave, were fixed on him as he gave a shout and let his javelin fly. The slave ceased laughing, his eyes grew wide in the split second it took for the javelin to finish its flight and strike him through the center of his right femur. The man gave a high-pitched cry of terror and pain as the javelin smashed through the bone and pinned his leg to a post that he was leaning against. He started to hyperventilate and gave another loud cry as he saw his twitching leg; muscle, sinew and splinters of bone splayed out the exit wound.