by James Mace
“The Gauls forced my hand! They sowed the seeds of rebellion…”
“A rebellion that would never have come to pass were you not so protective of the Senators’ feelings regarding the opening of Senatorial membership to non-Latins,” Livia interrupted. “And because of that we could have lost the province! Thankfully the people remain ignorant of such information. I should also remind you that much of the Gallic nobility was wiped out by your soldiers. Countless families either lost sons or were impoverished before it was over.”
“You need not remind me of the details regarding Sacrovir’s rebellion, Mother,” Tiberius rebuked. “My men exacted justice and retribution as they saw fit.”
“Augustus would never have allowed the entire affair to happen in the first place!” Livia found she could not help but invoke the name of her son’s deified predecessor; she always comparing one to the other.
“I am not Augustus!” Tiberius was seething in rage. In a matter of minutes he had gone from mourning his son to entering into a venomous spat with his mother. “Augustus had plenty of opportunities to grant Senatorial membership to the Gallic nobility, but he rebuked them. Augustus left many things undone; things which he did not hesitate to leave for me to deal with once he was gone. Oh yes, let Tiberius play the tyrant; let Tiberius be the bad guy in order to fix his mistakes! Deified or not, Augustus was not a god while he lived. He was not infallible, nor was the woman who ruled through him!” Both mother and son took a few deep breaths as their tempers simmered. At length Livia broke the silence.
“You know the Senate will never allow you to raise Sejanus above his station,” she said in a low voice.
“The Senate will do as it is told,” Tiberius replied, his own voice calmer, though his temper still burned. Sweat was forming on his brow and his face was a dark shade of red. “For years I have tried to get the Senate to act as it is supposed to; like men born to rule this Empire. Instead they have become nothing but a shell of what they once were. They are cowards and fools, every last one of them; none of them is capable of making up their own minds without first wondering whether or not they will please me. They change like the winds, forcing me to play the autocrat, as if I ever wanted it! If they want me to be the sole ruler of Rome, then so be it!”
Sejanus’ face beamed as he gazed at Livilla. All had gone according to plan, and with Drusus gone there was no one to stand in his way. Livilla grabbed him and kissed him passionately.
“My darling,” she whispered into his ear.
“All is going well,” he whispered back. “The old bastard is at last in my sole control. He trusts no one but me now. The Roman Empire is mine!”
“When shall we marry?” Livilla asked her voice giddy. Sejanus slowly pushed himself away from her.
“Patience, my love,” he replied. “Your daft husband is scarcely on his final journey and you already talk of marriage. Tiberius may have complete trust in me, but I cannot do anything that would jeopardize that. As soon as you’ve had proper time to mourn I will approach him.”
“Well don’t take too long,” Livilla pouted as she turned and folded her arms across her chest. “I did not damn myself with unholy sin so that I could sit back and still be nothing more than your concubine!” Sejanus grabbed her gruffly by the shoulders and spun her around so that she faced him once more. She had to admit that his brutish nature was part of what aroused her.
“Damn it woman, be sensible!” he growled. “Do you think I would have done the things that I did if I did not intend to take you as mine? I could have found other ways to bring down your beloved husband.” Livilla’s face contorted in a sly grin.
“Alright my dear,” she said. “But I want you for my own and I want to be shown proper respect as Empress of Rome!”
“In due time, my love.”
As she walked the dark, lonely corridors of the Imperial Palace, Livia wondered if this was what her family had come to; leaving its legacy to a Praetorian of questionable moral character. Sejanus cared not for the Empire and its people; he cared only about pursuing his own ambitions. Already he had concentrated the Praetorian Cohorts into a single barracks outside the Viminal Gate. Such a move had created fear and havoc amongst the Senators, who now felt as if they were living in the shadow of Sejanus and the Praetorians. Their fear of him was very real indeed, for he had the Emperor’s confidence and could bring down any one of them if he chose to do so.
Livia then pondered the state of her own family, or what remained of it. Drusus had left behind two young children, Julia Livia and Tiberius Gemellus, whose twin brother had died soon after birth. Gemellus would be the next obvious choice, were he not but a child of four years. Rome had not submitted to the folly of many of the eastern provinces and their child monarchs. Germanicus had left behind six children, to include three sons; Drusus, Nero, and Gaius Caligula. However, with Agrippina having made herself such a hateful enemy of the Emperor, Livia foresaw that her children would be lucky to escape banishment or worse in the future. Any hope of the Julio-Claudian line continuing through the heirs of Germanicus was highly unlikely.
Besides Drusus’ widow Livilla, Livia’s only remaining grandchild was Livilla and Germanicus’ brother; that fool Claudius. Livia only remembered the young man as an afterthought. She snorted at the thought of the wretch. Had he been born in a different age, he would have been exposed at birth and left to perish before he could become an embarrassment to his family. His club foot caused him to limp, his head twitched, and his speech impediment made Livia wish she could cut out his tongue. He appeared to be terrified by her, stuttering and twitching like he was having an epileptic fit. Livia then cocked her head to one side as she further pondered her remaining grandson. She remembered passing by the gardens one night, not long before Drusus’ death, and overheard him talking to the Imperial Prince. She had paid it no mind at the time, but she now recalled Claudius lecturing Drusus in depth on his duties as the son of the Emperor. He had spoken articulately, with no trace of a stutter. She had not stopped to watch, so she was uncertain if his head still twitched or not. She suspected that it had not, at least not like she had seen it.
A smile then crossed her face. Claudius was no fool; everyone who took him for a fool was! All these years he had been playing them; performing a far better play than the finest actors in the theater. Oh there was no doubt that his afflictions were real; but Livia now realized that his stutter and twitching were deliberately exaggerated. While the whole of the Empire viewed him as the harmless fool, he watched and learned. Livia then gave a short laugh. Her grandson might prove useful after all.
Tiberius was now sixty-four years old, and though still in excellent health he could not deny the passage of time. Therefore a few days later he addressed the Senate once more. He had implored the Consuls to bring before him the sons of Germanicus. Many hoped that this would allay their worst suspicions regarding the imperial succession. Many nobles lived in fear of the Praetorian Prefect, Sejanus, and were terrified that the Emperor would defy Roman law by naming him his successor. Sejanus had even gone so far as to have agents plant such thoughts in the minds of the senators to stoke the fires of rumor. With Tiberius’ grandson being but a child, the Senate now saw hope in that the Emperor would turn to the sons of Germanicus.
The Consuls entered the chamber, each guiding Germanicus’ sons Nero and Drusus to where Tiberius sat. Absent was their brother, Gaius Caligula, still little more than a child himself. Now seventeen and sixteen years of age respectively, the lads were ready to take their place in the Roman world. Surely the Emperor would see the qualities of their father despite his hatred for their mother! Taking each by the hand he addressed the assembly:
“Senators, when these boys lost their father, I committed them to their uncle, and begged him, though he had children of his own, to cherish and rear them as his own offspring, and train them for himself and for posterity. Drusus is now lost to us, and I turn my prayers to you, and before heaven and your country I adju
re you to receive into your care and guidance the great-grandsons of Augustus, descendants of a most noble ancestry. So fulfill your duty and mine. To you, Nero and Drusus, these senators are as fathers. Such is your birth that your prosperity and adversity must alike affect the State.”2
In a rare showing of solidarity with their Emperor, the Senate broke into an ovation fraught with much emotion. Tears of joy and relief came to many an eye. It was as if a nightmare would soon be over. The sons of Germanicus would restore dignity to the Julio-Claudians. Some Senators even dared to hope that perhaps they would even go so far as to restore Republican rule to the Empire once Tiberius was gone.
A week following his return to Cologne, Artorius was helping Rufio sort through letters and dispatches while waiting for a group of recruits to arrive at the Century headquarters. He had been feeling better as of late. Magnus had been right. Though he would never forget Diana, he could now allow his memories to be fond ones, rather than those that gave him the pain of loss. He had assimilated well into his post as Optio, as Macro had told him he would. Competition in sports, like his new-found passion of Pankration, as well as his continued violating of any young beauty that felt up to the challenge, kept him conditioned and eased the fire that burned inside him.
Legionary Felix was still on light duty and was assigned as his aid for the week. The young man looked to be much recovered from his terrible wound. Color had returned to his face, though he had lost a lot of weight; a far cry from when he had been an overweight recruit three years before.
“I’ve got the post for you sir,” the legionary said as he set a satchel on the table. “I already sorted out all of the personal mail by section. This is mostly official stuff for the Centurion, though there’s a couple of letters addressed to you.”
“Excellent, thank you,” Artorius replied, walking over with a slight limp still.
“How’s the leg, sir?” Felix asked. Artorius shrugged his shoulders and opened the satchel.
“It hurts, but what can you do? How about your little scratch?”
“Getting better, slowly but surely.” Felix lifted his tunic to show the Optio. The scar left behind was hideous, but the wound was mostly healed. “I’ve been working my stomach muscles more and should be returning to full duty within the next couple weeks.”
“And how is Lady Tierney?” Artorius asked, bringing a grin to the legionary. Though she may not have been a Gallic noblewoman any more, most of the men still addressed her as such as a sign of respect.
“Well enough, sir,” Felix replied, replacing his tunic. “She shares a house with Svetlana, which Mad Olaf purchased as a wedding present for his granddaughter.” Artorius furrowed his brow in contemplation.
“Valens isn’t anywhere near becoming a Centurion, so how exactly is it a wedding present?”
“Well Rome may not recognize it, but Valens and Svetlana did marry in a Nordic ceremony a couple weeks before you returned. It may not be legal by Roman law, but even Sergeant Magnus seemed to approve. Such practices are really not that uncommon when you think about it, sir.” Artorius frowned and nodded, for it was true. He did find it strange that Roman law forbade soldiers beneath the rank of Centurion from marrying, and yet they also encouraged such common-law ‘marriages.’ After all, it readily helped provide the next generation of legionaries; for the son of a soldier was more likely to follow his father into the ranks than the son of a non-soldier. A good number of men within the legion had come from such unions between legionaries and local women. Valens had been sired this way, so his union with Svetlana probably felt natural to him. The marriage of his own parents had not been legalized until his father’s retirement, when Valens was twenty and already a legionary himself.
Artorius felt himself grinning at the thought of Valens married as he sorted through the letters. One was addressed to him from Pontius Pilate. It read:
Hail Artorius, old friend and comrade in arms!
I do apologize for not having written sooner. It seems like I lost all track of time while I was away. I’ve just now returned from a brief administrative tour in Syria with Legio XII, Fulminata. Seems they were having a spot of problems over there, so Sejanus attached me to them for the last year. He said something about how it might do me some good to get a feel for the eastern provinces. Well I can certainly say I got a feel for it, alright! Justus Longinus accompanied me to Syria; he sends his regards, by the way. His liaison tour was over and he had to return to his post with Legio VI, Ferrata. I have to say that being in the east, even for such a short time was a real eye-opener for me. The people over there are quite strange, and the climate is constantly hot. Even so, I would not mind making a return to the east some day; for all its oddities, it is quite the exotic and exciting place.
As you can tell from my boisterous introduction, I am feeling in a bit of a celebratory mood. I was finally betrothed to my lovely Claudia! Though it will be a few years before we are able to marry, we are looking forward to spending a long and happy life together; hopefully one that will include many children! Claudia’s already made me promise that our first son is to be named Artorius, after you. A bit of a violation of the naming traditions perhaps, but who am I to say no? It seems that even though she has never met you, she loves you already. Can’t say I blame her, especially after you rescued her sister from the clutches of those rebel bastards. Diana has told us everything, about how you slew countless numbers of those traitors, and even about the impressive manner with which you destroyed that Greek. Forgive me if I don’t act surprised, old friend. Your valor and cunning will take you far in the Legions! I also understand that Diana has quite the affection for you. Too bad she cannot bear children; otherwise she would make any man a fine wife. A pity, really...
Another spot of good news, I have been made Deputy Prefect of the Praetorians! Sejanus recommended me personally for the position. Needless to say this caused some initial anger and jealousy amongst some of the other Tribunes who have been in the Praetorian Guard much longer than me. However, Sejanus explained that I was the only one with any significant combat experience to speak of, and that the other Tribunes would learn well from it. If that did not put an end to the critics, the Emperor’s hearty endorsement did. Tiberius himself came out to congratulate me on my posting and he even echoed Sejanus’ remarks that there will be bigger things to come for me. Perhaps a governorship will be in my future some day? One never knows.
I truly am blessed, old friend, both in my pending marriage and in my career. Though I have grown to love the benefits of bachelorhood, Claudia and I do adore each other, and I know we will be happy together. You will have to make a trip to Rome when we are wed, and bring some of the lads with you! I trust your judgment in regards to whomever you wish to invite.
My political and military careers are set, old friend. I have the endorsement of Sejanus, to say nothing of the favor of the Emperor himself. Know that I wish you the same success and happiness. I never told you this before, but I was deeply honored to have served with you in the Legions. I told your father as much, and he is very proud of you. Age, rank, and social status never mattered between us, and they never will. In many ways, I have always admired and looked up to you, as I still do. We have come a long way since our school days, Artorius. And while only the Fates know for certain, I feel that our paths will cross again in our careers. I look forward to that day. Until then, continue to make us proud, ‘Soldier of Rome.’ Your friend and brother in arms,
Pontius Pilate
Epilog: Five Years Later
At the Bridges over the Rhine, Braduhenna Wood, Frisia
A.D. 28
The Frisians knew it was all about timing. The Roman army was staged on the far side, overlooking the long bridges; three legions, plus massive numbers of auxilia and cavalry. Unbeknownst to the Romans, the bridges were treated with pitch and their support ropes weakened. A simple, but brilliant trick; allow the legions to start their crossing and then destroy the bridges out from under them.<
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The Frisians knew they could not cut the bridges too soon because the Romans would still have the bulk of their forces intact and would simply march twenty miles north to the ford and cross there. And yet if they waited too long…well the legions were a fearsome enemy and if allowed to mass their numbers they would smash through the Frisians and trample them into dust. One legion was staging to cross, followed by their auxiliaries. These particular troops looked to be strictly infantry, the Germanic auxiliary cavalry somewhere in the distance.
Hidden in a thicket a Frisian archer waited impatiently. It had rained recently, and he prayed the kindling he brought wrapped in many layers of cloth was still dry. His companion knelt next to him, flint and steel in hand. There were many such pairings in the thick undergrowth along the river bank. They would let the first wave of legionaries cross and then hit the bridges with fire while the auxilia crossed. That would trap a significant portion of their force, an entire legion at that, on the Frisian side of the river. The archer licked his lips in anticipation.
There was a fog on the far side of the river, which made Centurion Artorius apprehensive. Scouts had reported that the rebel army was huge, far larger than anticipated. One report had the enemy strength in the tens-of-thousands, though between the fog and dense woods this was impossible to verify for certain. If it was true Artorius had doubts as to whether or not their force would be large enough to defeat the Frisians even under ideal conditions. He also knew that whether they crossed here or at the ford to the north meant little. They would still be stretched thin and could only cross so many troops at a time. Speed would be the key; get enough men across to hold the far bank and allow the rest of the army to deploy.