by James Mace
A slave took the reins of his horse as he dismounted. As he dug through the saddle bags Diana rode up on a dark grey mare. Her hair was unkempt from her ride and there was sweat on her brow, but Artorius was still awestruck. He quickly reminded himself that he was there on business and spending time with Lady Diana was just a perk. She wore a sleeveless tunic that showed her well-defined arm and shoulder muscles.
“Just some letters, my Lady,” he said, trying to sound casual. Diana abruptly dismounted and walked over to him as the slave grabbed the reins of her horse with his free hand.
“I’ll take them now,” she said, holding out her hand. Artorius gave a glum frown and handed them over to her. He sensed she was deliberately refraining from making eye contact. What was it about Diana that made her so distant with him though she was always cordial? He had a horrible thought: she had to know of his infatuation with her. Did she find it offensive? Possibly, she was a lady. Surely she would have said so already! He never pretended to even be able to figure women out and knew that he would never find out for certain. He readied himself to remount his horse when he heard a man screaming in panic.
“Domina! Domina!” Proximo, dressed in field worker’s garb, was racing up the road in the opposite direction that Diana had come from. His eyes were filled with tears, his face red and drenched in sweat.
“Proximo!” Diana scolded. “That is no way to behave! Calm down and tell me what’s the matter.” The slave fell to his knees, his hands trembling.
“It’s Master Levant…he’s dead, Domina…murdered…” the slave placed his hands over his face, unable to continue. Diana swallowed hard.
“Compose yourself!” she spat as she cuffed the slave behind the ear. His sobbing ceased and he fought to regain his bearing. “Now what do you mean murdered?”
“Beheaded, Domina,” Proximo stated. This gave Artorius a start.
“Where?” he asked, stepping away from his horse. The slave had only just noticed him.
“Thank the gods,” he said in a low voice, “we have Sir here to help us.” Diana looked back at Artorius, and then to Proximo.
“You will take Sergeant Artorius and me to Levant, understood?” Proximo nodded meekly.
“Of course. This way, please.” Artorius left his helmet in his saddle bag, but strapped on his gladius as they walked briskly behind the slave to where a grove of trees paralleled the river past the wheat fields.
“Please, not here too,” the Decanus said quietly. Diana overheard him and gave him a curious stare; looking him in the eye for the first time since his arrival.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I’ll explain later,” he replied, increasing his stride. Diana was startled by his demeanor. Artorius was usually very friendly and outgoing, but now he was sullen and dark. She suddenly wondered if a soldier of Rome had to change who he was under duress or in battle.
A grizzly sight greeted them as they came to the edge of a grove of trees. A headless corpse hung crucified from the branches of an old oak tree. The body had been there for at least a day, and flies were gathered in mass around the bloody stump of a neck, as well as the head which was thrust upon a makeshift spike in the ground. Artorius studied the corpse, a look of disgust upon his face.
“Who was this man?” he asked.
“Just some farmer who lived a few miles up the road,” Diana answered, the sight of the mutilated body making her nauseous and faint. Artorius started to walk around the tree and the surrounding area.
“There are drag marks here,” he observed, pointing to the flattened grass leading from the road, “but not much blood. Which means he was already dead and decapitated when they brought him here.” He closed his eyes as terrible fear struck him. “He was brought here as a warning; a warning to you, my Lady.” His eyes were dark as he turned towards Diana.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, suddenly frightened by Artorius’ stare. “Who would dare send such a warning to me?”
“I can hazard a guess,” he replied, walking away from the sickening scene. “Have him cut down and brought to the estate.” Proximo cringed at the order.
Diana nodded, “do as he says.” She had to run briefly to catch up to the fast-pacing Decanus.
“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” she swore. It was the first time Artorius had ever heard her use profanity.
“I need to know everything we can find out about that man,” Artorius answered. “There have been a series of rather gruesome murders taking place in Lugdunum. We think they are being committed by a survivor of Sacrovir’s rebellion. If this man Levant was in any way connected, we are in serious trouble.”
As soon as they were inside the main foyer of the house, Artorius started to unlace the ties on his armor. He handed the armor and his belt to a slave, though he kept his gladius strapped to him. Diana sat on a table, one hand covering her mouth, her face still pale as she sought to comprehend what was happening.
“What happened to your face?” she asked, seeking a distraction while they waited for the servants to finish searching the archives. She had noticed the mark on Artorius’ face when he arrived, but didn’t have the opportunity to comment.
“Oh this,” Artorius said as he placed his hand on the still tender lump below his eye.
“It looks like someone hit you in the face with a stick,” Diana observed.
“Well funny you should mention that…” before he could finish a slave appeared, bearing two dusty scrolls.
“The documents you requested, Domina.”
Artorius snatched the scrolls away from the slave and signaled for him to leave. He closed his eyes and raised his head as soon as he finished reading the first.
“Have you ever looked at these?” he asked. Diana shook her head.
“No. All I know is these were the documents pertaining to Proculus and Vorena’s acquisition of the estate. Why, what does it say?” Without opening his eyes, Artorius held the scroll over his shoulder for her to take. Diana gasped when she read it.
“You mean…”
“Yes,” Artorius said with a nod. “The man Levant was the owner of this estate before the Sacrovir Revolt.” Diana continued reading as Artorius paced back and forth, his hands folded behind his back. “Levant was a rebel who was ransomed after the rebellion was put down. The price of his life was his estate. He was given a small farmhouse to live out the rest of his life. Your cousin, like many other Romans of rank, purchased this estate at auction.”
“He told me about how he had procured the place,” Diana remarked. “So why was Levant murdered?”
“The same reason as most of the others we’ve found slain in similar fashion. The people responsible for this are seeking retribution on those who surrendered to us rather than fighting to the bitter end. They are viewed as traitors to the cause and their lives are now forfeit. We found one former nobleman, whose life was spared, but his wife and children were butchered in the same manner as Levant; the wife was defiled before being executed, of course. The husband hung himself soon after we arrived.” Diana’s face bore a look of utter disgust.
“You speak so casually,” she said.
“My Lady,” Artorius spoke calmly, “I have seen mankind at its absolute worst and there are some things that no one should have to see. But for now we must look to your safety.” He had some doubts about his own words. How could anyone have partaken in the vile acts that he had and still be human?
“What would you have me do?” she asked, clasping her own hands behind her back. It was strange, taking orders from a mere plebian soldier; however, Diana knew that her very survival could depend upon it. She swallowed her fear and steeled herself for whatever needed to be done. She was charged with safeguarding the Proculus estate, and she would not fail.
“Do you have any weapons here?” Artorius asked.
“The slaves have some farming tools, and I have a legionary dagger that Proculus gave me a long time ago.”
“Wear it underneath your stola,” he directed. “Don’t ever leave it anywhere. Close and bar the gates and post a watch up there at all times. I’ll return to Lugdunum and see if I can get some men posted here.”
“And if you cannot?” Diana’s face bore no emotion.
“Then I guess I will have to come back here and protect you myself,” he said with a half-smile. Diana smiled back as Artorius’ face became sober once more. “I promise I’ll not let anything happen to you.” Diana gave him an inquisitive look, but before she could question him, he turned briskly and walked out of the room. With a snap of his fingers, a slave brought his armor and belt to him. In that moment, Diana found she was utterly fascinated by this young legionary. She walked slowly out to the courtyard, where he was finishing up the ties on his armor while a slave strapped on his belt. Though he was handsome and looked capable of great strength, she had never paid him much attention. She thought of him as just a courier and he seemed a bit shy around her for some reason, so she was slightly amazed at how he took charge and handled the horrible incident. She suddenly saw him not as a boy who delivered her mail, but a legionary. And a brave man he was if he was serious about protecting her himself--alone.
Artorius swung into the saddle and turned his horse towards the gates. The horse felt the excitement and pranced, ready to run. He looked over his shoulder and shouted, “I will protect you my Lady!”
“Absolutely not!” Magistrate Julius snapped. Proculus stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his face hardening. “We have a group of madmen terrorizing the city and you want to send troops to protect your own personal assets? I think not! And if their numbers are as large as we fear, how many men do you think it will take to defend your estate?” While Proculus was the Commander of the Third Cohort, while attached to Lugdunum they fell under the control of the Roman magistrate.
“Look, I’m not trying to be unsympathetic,” Julius continued as he poured himself a goblet of wine. “But do you realize just how many outlying estates there are in the region? It’s not just yours that’s at stake here. You’d be better served using your legionaries, in addition to my urban cohort, to hunt these bastards down.”
“I understand,” Proculus replied.
Centurions and Options sat or stood around the table in the crowded office, an oil lamp casting a soft glow on the table. Artorius and a few of the Decanii that had witnessed some of the atrocities were also on hand. Proculus sat resting his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand.
“Let’s take a look at what we have,” he said. “The slaver and his family aside, what do most of the victims have in common?”
“They were all paroled prisoner of Sacrovir’s revolt,” Artorius answered after a brief silence.
“So what then if the surviving rebels want to kill each other off?” an Optio asked. “What should we care?”
“They paid their ransoms,” Vitruvius replied. “They made their peace with the Emperor and are redeemed. They are afforded the same protections as all citizens.”
“That and it is unsettling to the populace,” Macro added. “After all, it’s not just ransomed rebels they are targeting. That slaver had nothing to do with the rebellion; though I don’t doubt he profited from it. There was also the matter of the slave who led my men into that ambush.”
“The slave named his master as a Greek named Heracles,” Praxus spoke up.
“Yes, well there are a lot of Greeks living in the region,” Proculus replied dismissively. “Some of you have befriended that Pankration teacher, Delios. Think he knows anything?”
“I don’t think so,” Artorius replied. “He’s an Athenian, and apparently this Heracles vehemently claims to be a Spartan.”
“Very nice that you want to protect your friend, Sergeant,” a Centurion retorted. “Meantime we have a madman, or madmen as it may be, decapitating citizens at will. I say the man needs to be questioned at a minimum; by someone other than his friends!”
“I agree,” Proculus said with a nod. “Vitruvius, you will dispatch two of your Decanii to question the man Delios.”
“Yes sir,” the Centurion replied.
“Meanwhile,” Proculus continued, “I want this entire city and all the surrounding areas scoured for any signs of who may be behind this. I know this is a difficult task for our men; they are legionaries, not detectives. Regardless, as legionaries we have been charged with the protection of this province, and protect it we will.
“I want every man who can assimilate into the population to do so. I’d use the urban cohort, but they’ve been stationed here for years; the locals all know who they are. Many of our men are not so well known. If you have any men of Gallic ancestry, so much the better. But know that I want every man responsible for this brought before me and crucified!” He slammed his hand on the table for emphasis. The meeting over; the men rose and left the room. Only Centurion Macro stayed.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, his arms folded across his chest as he sat on the edge of the table. Proculus paced back and forth in the small room and took a rag to wipe the sweat from his brow.
“Not well at all,” he replied, “especially after the news your Decanus, Artorius brought me. To tell you the truth Macro, it’s not just my estate I worry about. Diana is very close to me. I was like a second father to her and her sister when they were young.” He smiled at the memory. Diana had blossomed into a woman of pure beauty, and he knew Claudia was not far behind.
“I think Sergeant Artorius is infatuated with her,” Macro said with a grin, trying to keep his Cohort Commander’s mind occupied. “Can’t say I blame him.” Proculus snorted and folded his arms across his chest.
“I have been making him spend a lot of time with her, so I suppose it’s my fault. He was quite passionate in his desire to protect her. And while it is appreciated, Magistrate Julius is right; the number of legionaries it would take to protect my estate would severely hamper our efforts to protect the rest of the region and track these bastards down.”
Diana had hoped that Artorius would bring a host of legionaries with him; however the young Decanus was alone when he rode through the gates of the estate. He carried but a single letter, neatly folded in half with Proculus’ seal.
“My Lady,” he said as he handed the note to Diana. She took it and read it quickly, her head dropping slightly as the words sunk in. She swallowed hard before addressing Artorius.
“Tell my cousin that I appreciate his offer, but it would go against my charge,” she said, looking him in the eye, her gaze hard. “It says you are to leave at once with my reply; well now you have it. Good day, Sergeant.” She nodded curtly, turned and walked back into the manor house. Artorius let out a sad sigh.
“Good day, my Lady,” he said quietly to the now empty space where she had been standing. He remounted his horse and raised his head to the sky. Gray clouds were starting to form, a cool, damp breeze brushing his face. Artorius was not one for omens, but still it did not bode well to him. “I pray the Fates do not abandon you as well.”
It did not rain during Artorius forty-mile journey back to Lugdunum, which he took at a much slower pace. The clouds were gray and small gusts of wind continued to make him feel as if the Fates were trying to torment him some more. He swore they hated him, for whatever reason.
Artorius did not know if he really believed in the Fates, or even the gods for that matter. How divine forces could be so cruel baffled him. He had convinced himself that Camilla’s slow and emotionally tortuous death had been brought on by their failure to follow the plans of the divine. And yet he still lived. Was he damned to lose any that he dared care for as his punishment? Diana had denied herself the personal protection of Proculus and his legionaries; was her fate now sealed?
“Damn that stubborn woman!” Proculus swore. Artorius stood rigid, his hands clasped behind his back. “Did she say anything more?”
“No Sir,” the Decanus replied. “All she said was that it would violate her cha
rge.” The Centurion nodded and waved for him to leave.
“That will be all, Sergeant.” Artorius saluted quickly and left the office. Magnus was waiting for him outside the Principia. Artorius shook his head as both men continued their walk.
“Too bad,” the Norseman replied. “I am sorry, old friend.”
“So am I,” Artorius replied. “I have a problem, Magnus, and I think only you will be able to understand. Remember when I told you about how I thought Camilla had been cursed by the Fates because we violated their divine plan for us?”
“I do,” Magnus replied with a nod as Artorius quickened his pace. Neither man knew exactly where they were heading.
“I wonder if I am cursed too. And will Diana suffer because of me?”
“You know what I think?” Magnus asked rhetorically. “I think you’re being an ignorant, superstitious twat; that’s what I think. If Diana Procula dies, it will be her stubbornness that costs her. It has nothing to do with you. Now quit getting all stupid over the things you have absolutely no influence over. If the Fates do in fact hate you, fuck them; you don’t need them.” Artorius stopped quickly and the two men faced each other.
“Thanks, old friend,” he said with a grin. “I needed to hear that.” Magnus cracked a half smile and smacked him on the shoulder.
“I know,” he replied. “That’s why you keep me around I suppose.” Artorius laughed and took a deep breath.
“I suppose so. Honestly though, I do feel much better. Make no mistake, I do fear for Lady Diana’s safety, but what can I do about it?”
“Nothing,” Magnus answered. “You’ve done all you can. Now we need to focus on hunting these bastards down so that you don’t have to fear anymore!”
The hunts for the rebels would prove futile. Having stirred up the proverbial hornets’ nest, Heracles elected to lie low for the time being. He had told Kiana that she would not be seeing him for some time, but that she could still help their cause by monitoring the Romans’ movements and troop situations. Since she had befriended her sister’s lover, Legionary Felix, this would be all too easy. For Delios, he was quickly absolved of any potential wrongdoings and allowed to continue teaching.