by James Mace
A Gallic holy man walked at the head of the procession that made its way to the grave. Kiana’s father walked next to the man, his servants carrying the shrouded body of his daughter. His slaves carried her, for he would not allow Roman soldiers to touch his beloved child. Not surprisingly, Tierney was behind the procession, a good ten feet behind the body. Her father blamed her for Kiana’s death, and she was not worthy to walk beside him. As the body was carried to the open grave, Tierney made one last gesture to appeal to her father. But before she could say a word, he raised his hand quickly, almost striking her with the back of it. She then turned and walked away as her sister was lowered into the ground.
As she walked away from the grave, Tierney turned and for the first time since arriving at the estate she noticed Legionary Felix. The young soldier gazed at her, his own eyes filled with regret. Even with the bandages, Tierney could still gauge the severity of his wounds. His face was pale, sweat forming on his brow. He should not have been moved from his room, but he insisted on saying farewell to the girl who he had loved like a sister.
Felix then reached a hand out to Tierney. At first she started to shake her head, but then when she looked back at her father once more, Tierney realized the significance of the legionary’s gesture. She slowly walked over to him and took his hand in hers. She squeezed it affectionately, her eyes filling with tears as the holy man started to recite some verses from a tomb he carried with him. It was an ancient tongue that he spoke and only Tierney, her father, and a couple of legionaries who were of Gallic ancestry could understand. Even their servants could not make out the words. Tierney repeated each verse to Felix.
Gods of the earth
Welcome your daughter as she greets you on her final journey
Gods of the earth
Guide your child home
Sequana and Grannus, heal the hearts of those who loved her
As Aveta brought this child into the world, now may Nantosuelta embrace her in death
Gods of the earth
To you we return Kiana
Tierney shuddered as she recounted the final verse. Felix clutched her hand tightly. The holy man then threw some dirt into the grave, turned slowly, and walked away. Kiana’s father followed, not once looking back at his other daughter that he had now fully abandoned. The Romans started to disperse, some of the legionaries uncomfortable with having to witness a barbaric death ritual. There were others, though, who had come from similar ancestral backgrounds as Kiana and her family; and though they were Roman citizens who worshipped the Pantheon, they understood and respected the traditions of their distant kinsmen. A legionary stood at each corner of the Felix’s litter and they lifted their brother up, taking him back to his quarters.
“Stay with me, Tierney,” he whispered his voice hoarse. The young woman smiled and stroked his head gently.
“I promise, I will never leave you,” she said as she kissed him on the lips.
“Nice one, Felix,” one of his companions said as they carried him away. “Now you bloody well better survive that little scratch of yours!” Tierney laughed at the soldier’s remark and walked beside the litter, her hand never letting go of Felix’s.
Artorius watched as everyone left. With the exception of the slaves who were filling in the grave, only he and Diana remained. He felt himself envying young Felix. The lad had been through unspeakable trauma, and yet now he had found perhaps the greatest prize there was. Far from placing blame on him for Kiana’s death, Tierney embraced the young legionary who nearly gave his own life trying to save her. The bond between them was now unshakable. And while Tierney may no longer have been a noblewoman, such a status had only served to create a barrier between her and Felix. What Felix now had was a companion who loved him; who would stay with him for the rest of their lives, waiting for the day that Rome would allow their union to be made official. It would be a long wait, one predicated by either Felix’s rise to Centurion or else his retirement from the legions. It mattered not, for Tierney would still be by his side. They were both only twenty years of age, and yet it was as if they had grown up together.
“Are you alright, Sergeant?” Diana’s voice startled him from his thoughts. He quickly nodded and sought to compose himself.
“Yes, thank you,” he replied. “Sad affair, really.”
“Quite,” Diana said as she quickly walked away from him. He let out an audible sigh. Diana’s emotions seemed to go from affectionate to cold at every shifting of the winds and he could not figure her out. He guessed that men and women were deliberately designed that way; as if the gods were playing a joke on them by making them inseparable and yet a complete mystery to each other.
He looked back to where the slaves were quietly filling the grave with dirt and he was suddenly uncomfortable. He pulled himself up with his crutch and turned back towards the estate. He stopped, realizing he did not want to go back, even as a cool breath hit him in the face, making him shudder. Though it would be foolish to overexert his injured leg, he decided to take a walk down to the river and let his thoughts settle. He knew the only way to figure out Diana was to approach her with the same determination he used in all other aspects of his life.
He had much going for him in his life; he was alive, on his way to recovery, and had been recognized by his Cohort Commander. And yet, in spite of all the good in his life, he felt hollow and lost inside. It was an emptiness that had consumed him for some time and he knew not if it would ever leave him. He gazed up at the clouds as he hobbled down the dirt road, not caring if anyone knew where he was going or not. Like the time he had been there before when under mental duress, the skies were dark, the wind blowing gently, but no rain fell.
Chapter XIX: Revelations
Diana looked down the blade of the knife. It was honed razor sharp, as always. She hefted it in the palm of her hand. It was a standard issue legionary dagger, given to her by her cousin, Proculus, years before. Though used by many soldiers as a tool, it served as a valuable sidearm as well. For Diana it was perfect; small enough to hide, yet lethal.
Artorius stepped into the stables where Diana was examining her weapon. He was awestruck once again when he saw her. She wore a loose-fitting shirt and riding breaches, not unlike those worn by Gallic women. Her breaches were cut off at mid-thigh, which drew his attention immediately. Her legs were well defined with muscle, though still looked soft to the touch. Her arms were similarly shaped, and her chest and shoulders looked strong. In short, she exuded both elegance and power. He breathed a deep sigh to himself.
Quietly he walked towards her, using a rail to support himself. When he was near, she spun around, her dagger coming straight for him. In a flash his gladius, which he wore out of habit, was out and he blocked the blow. A sinister smile crossed Diana’s face as she followed up with two quick jabs and a backhand slash. Artorius blocked all of these easily enough, though he was surprised by her speed and tenacity.
“You have a natural skill with a weapon,” he said calmly. Diana, with equal calm, sheathed her dagger as Artorius returned his gladius to its scabbard.
“When you live on an estate, you tend to grow soft. If you want to leave that estate, you must remain sharp, both in wit and physical tenacity,” she replied. She cocked her head slightly as she leaned against the rail.
“They say you are one of the best close combat fighters to have ever lived,” she continued. “Sorry if my way of testing that seemed a little barbaric.” Artorius smiled and shook his head.
“Not at all. I too must remain sharp and tenacious, if I am to return to the legions as anything useful. Tell me, what kept you from using your weapon against your assailants when the gladiators took over your estate?” Diana hung her head, frowning.
“Don’t think that I did not want to. I am utterly shamed by my lack of action, for I failed in my charge. However, I also knew that had I lashed out against them, they would have killed me right then and there. I flatter myself that I am stronger than most and unafraid
to fight. However, I am still a woman and I do know my physical limitations.”
“What if we got rid of those limitations?” Artorius asked. Diana looked at him puzzled.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Brute strength alone does not make one a good fighter,” he replied. She laughed as he said that.
“Kind of an odd thing for someone your size to say, don’t you think?” Diana gazed at his thick, muscular frame as she said that. His tunic was tight-fitting in the chest, and his arms looked as if they were about to rip right through the short sleeves. Given the size of his powerful muscles, she figured he had to outweigh most men of his height by a good fifty pounds easily. Artorius looked himself over and shrugged.
“Well it does help,” he answered. “What I’m getting at is that aside from strength, there is speed, agility, stamina and above all skill required to make a good fighter. When we fought in Germania a few years ago, almost all of us were dwarfed in size by the barbarians we fought. In spite of this, we still destroyed them with what some would consider contemptuous ease.”
“So what are you suggesting?” Diana asked, smiling wryly. Artorius returned the smile and drew his gladius once more.
Felix woke from his slumber to the sound of the door creaking open. He tried to sit upright as Centurion Macro walked in, but the pain in his abdomen prevented him from doing so. Tierney placed a protective hand on his shoulder.
“Centurion Macro, sir,” Felix said through clenched teeth as he fought through the pain.
“How are you, Felix?” Macro asked as Tierney applied a damp cloth to the legionary’s forehead.
“I’ve been better, sir,” Felix replied, forcing a smile. Macro then turned his gaze towards Tierney. The young Gallic women glanced up at him and swallowed, not sure what to make of the Centurion.
“You are the one whose sister my legionary swore an oath to protect,” he said after a brief pause. Tierney lowered her head, suddenly feeling like she was on trial.
“Forgive me,” she replied, “I did not know who else to turn to. All I wanted was to save my little sister...dear Kiana.” She tried to force the tears back, but to no avail; images of Kiana’s slain body clouded her vision. Macro placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“You have done no wrong, child,” he said. She looked up at him once more. “We do all we can to protect those we love. I am sorry for your loss.”
“As much as it pains me to admit this,” Tierney began, “Kiana brought about her own death. Her mind was poisoned beyond the ability to see reason. I only hope that she found some redemption before the end.”
“She did,” Felix spoke up. “She tried to save me before…” he elected not to finish the sentence.
“The Lady Diana also said your sister made things right before the end,” Macro said. Tierney tried to smile through her tears. The Centurion then motioned towards the door with his head. “Leave us; I wish to speak with Legionary Felix alone.”
“Yes sir,” Tierney replied eyes on the floor as she left. As soon as the door was closed Macro turned back to his stricken soldier once more.
“I am sorry sir,” Felix said when Macro did not speak further. Macro looked at him inquisitively.
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I failed, sir. I failed to keep my oath; I let Kiana die. And I am of no use to you in my present condition.”
“The doctor says your wound will heal over time,” Macro interjected. “So you just might be of some use to us after all.” A half grin on the Centurion’s face put Felix at ease. “You did all you could, son. Your promise to Lady Tierney may have been foolish, but I cannot fault you for it.”
“She’s not Lady Tierney, sir,” Felix corrected. “Her father disowned her.”
“So he did,” Macro replied with a contemplative frown. “His loss; she is a good woman. She would have come herself to try to save her sister, had she the means to do so. As I was saying, I cannot fault you for the promise you made. You did what you knew was right.”
“Thank you sir,” Felix replied, forcing a partial smile through his pain.
“Just know that if you make any more such promises of this magnitude without consulting me or Sergeant Praxus, I’ll reopen that wound of yours!” Macro called over his shoulder as he left the room. Tierney was waiting outside, her head lowered, fidgeting with her hands. Macro gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and nodded for her to go back into the room. She immediately rushed inside, closed the door, and knelt by Felix’s side, taking his hand in hers.
“Is everything alright?” she asked. Felix replied with a smile.
“Everything’s fine, love.”
Artorius watched as the Third Cohort formed up and made ready to begin its long march back to the Rhine. Replacements from the Second Legion, Augusta had already taken over their billets in Lugdunum. He was still unable to walk without the aid of a crutch, and he knew it would be some time before he was fit to march any distance at all. He limped his way over to the Second Century, to say goodbye to his friends. It would be at least several weeks before he was fit to travel again, even by horse.
“Take care of the men while I am gone,” he told Magnus as he clasped his hand. His friend nodded in reply.
“I think we may just be able to survive without you.” Artorius laughed and shook his head.
“Think of it as your first chance at independent leadership,” he replied. “I already told Flaccus you would assist him with recruit training as well, should we pick up any recruits while I’m gone.”
“Just don’t enjoy yourself too much, old friend,” Magnus remarked. “Okay, perhaps just a little bit! We all know that Lady Diana has quite the affection for you. All the lads have seen it.” Artorius’ face turned red.
“You read too much into things, Brother. She may be grateful to me, and she is kind enough, but there is no affection there, trust me. You know she has asked me to teach her how to fight with a gladius?” It was Magnus’ turn to laugh.
“Just make sure she doesn’t hurt you too bad,” he said. “She looks like the type that could give many of the lads here a run for it.”
“I’d let her hurt me,” Valens thought aloud. Just then Macro rode up and dismounted his horse. He stuck out his hand, which Artorius took.
“I am sorry to not be coming with you, Sir,” Artorius said. Macro snorted at that.
“No you’re not,” he replied. “You’ve got a rather comfortable billet for the next few weeks. I suggest you make the most of it, because I intend to put you back to work where you belong once you get back. It’s a funny thing really. Proculus was the one who insisted that you stay here to convalesce, even though Felix is coming back with us.” As if on cue, a covered cart rolled by. The young legionary lay in the back fast asleep, young Tierney lying next to him, her arm around his chest. Artorius smiled, even if it was a sad one.
“Don’t know what I am supposed to make of that,” Artorius said with a slight frown as he turned back to his Centurion.
“Make whatever you wish of it,” Macro replied. “In all seriousness, you earned the right to take some time off, Artorius. You have not asked for a single day’s furlough in the eight years you have been with us, and this will do you good. I had to force you to take leave the last time...” he stopped himself as he saw Artorius wince. Macro immediately regretted his words, remembering the young Decanus’ emotionally painful tenure when he went home. “I am sorry; I did not mean to bring up any bad memories. Still, it’s all the more reason for you to make the most of your time here.” Artorius gave a sad smile and nodded.
“I have acquired a horse for you to ride back on, to be deducted from your pay of course,” Macro continued with a grin. “You’ve got four weeks to begin your journey back to Cologne. I want to see you as soon as you arrive. Take care of yourself.” As soon as he mounted his horse, Macro donned his helmet and saluted his Sergeant in a sign of respect. Artorius returned the salute and his Centurion t
ook his place at the head of the formation.
“Cohort!” Proculus shouted.
“Century!” all of the Centurions sounded off.
“Forward…march!”
Artorius stayed where he was, watching the Third Cohort begin its march. As the Third Century passed by, Vitruvius leaned down from his horse and clasped his hand. No words needed to be said. Vitruvius just smiled and winked at his former protégé. Artorius did not move until the last ranks of the Cohort were out of sight. It was then that he noticed his leg was in pain once again. Even with the crutch, it hurt to stand on for any length of time. He hobbled over to the house, where servants helped him into bed. He was left restless and uneasy. He did not like being away from his friends like this. But then he heard the words of his Centurion echoing in his mind. A slight grin crossed his face as he decided he would in fact make the most of his furlough.
“Now, the first thing you need to do is assume a good fighting stance.” Artorius could not believe he was doing this, though he figured by teaching Diana how to fight with a gladius, he could keep his own skills as an instructor at least partially sharp. He had acquired a pair of training gladii, and had had a training stake made out by the orchard. Padding had been added to the stake as well, so that it could be effectively used for punching. Artorius figured Diana would never wield a legionary shield, however he knew that by teaching her to punch with her left hand, she would be more than able to fend off just about any adversary. Diana stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, her right leg back slightly.
“Good,” Artorius observed. “Now you want to keep your weapon close to your side, with your arm bent and the point facing forward. Remember, the gladius is primarily a stabbing weapon. We rarely slash with it, though if kept sharp; it can cleave through arms and legs readily enough.”