by James Mace
“The man’s a tough bastard alright,” Rufio replied.
“So what happens now?” Sergeant Ostorius asked, stretching out on the ground while gazing at the stars.
“Proculus and the rest of the Cohort should be here in the next couple of days,” Flaccus answered. “After that we wait for orders from the Legion. My guess is we will be off home. Our tour here will be done soon; replacements should be rotating in within the next month or so.”
“To tell the truth, I kind of like it here,” Camillus said, looking around at the rolling hills that he could just make out as the sun fell completely beyond the horizon.
“That’s because this area is completely Romanized and feels like home,” Praxus observed.
“Well at least Artorius will have some more quality time with his lady-friend,” Flaccus scoffed.
“Oh come off it man. She’s just grateful that he saved her life,” Rufio answered, handing the Optio a flask of wine.
“Are you kidding me?” Flaccus replied as he took the flask and took a long gulp from it. “Did you see the way she was ogling him?”
“Jealous?” Praxus asked, repressing a chuckle. The old Optio’s eyes lit up.
“Well to be honest, yeah. I mean when was the last time a saucy-looking woman looked at me like that?”
“Probably when you were twelve,” Camillus replied.
“And that was because she was your mother!” Praxus answered. Flaccus threw a rock at him and got to his feet.
“I’m going to go and relieve myself,” he announced as he walked off.
“Thanks for sharing,” Camillus retorted as the others chuckled amongst themselves.
“Who is running Artorius’ section for him right now?” Ostorius asked.
“Magnus,” Praxus answered.
“Who I think will probably stay there,” Rufio added.
“What do you mean?” Ostorius persisted. Rufio looked over in the direction Flaccus had gone. He could not see the Optio in the darkness, but he could hear him a ways off groaning loudly as he relieved himself.
“Flaccus’ time with us is getting pretty short,” Rufio said in a low voice. “Someone will have to replace him; and if I were a betting man, I would say that a young Decanus will be the most likely candidate.”
Chapter XVIII: Reunions
Diana rushed out the main gate as soon as she heard the sounds of horns being blown. She did not even try to hide her elation as she watched the rest of the Third Cohort marching towards the estate. At the head was her cousin, Centurion Proculus. She ran to him as soon as he had dismounted from his horse. He embraced her hard.
“I never thought I would see you safe again,” he said. “When I was only able to send one Century to help, I feared the worst!” He looked at his younger cousin with relief.
“We are alright,” Diana replied. “You obviously sent the best men you had.” Proculus smiled as he took her arm in his and walked towards the house.
“And what of the young hero who saved you?” he asked. “I have heard mention of his exploits.”
“His name is Artorius. He is one of your Decanii. Do you know him?”
“I know his reputation, though I have only met him a handful of times.” Diana looked vaguely disappointed at the answer. “Sorry my dear, but when you have potentially around four hundred and eighty men at your command, it is hard to get to know them all personally. As I said, I know him mainly by reputation. He is the Chief Weapons Instructor for our Second Century, and one of the best close-combat fighters in the region. In fact, you may remember he won the title of Legion Champion about three years ago, which he has held ever since. How is he doing? I hear he was wounded.”
“He is doing better, though he won’t be able to walk unassisted for some time. I have been tending to him.” She looked off into the distance as she said so. Proculus smiled wryly.
“Diana, do you mean to tell me you are falling for this young legionary?” Diana seemed taken aback by the remark.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I mean, he did save my life, and our house. And even with that aside, I have always found his company to be pleasant. He is extremely intelligent, and you would be surprised at the amount of knowledge he possesses outside of the army. He recited to me a dissertation by Aristotle from memory on one of his errands out here. I must say, it is refreshing to meet a soldier who doesn’t completely devote his life to war.”
“So you are a bit taken by him?” Proculus persisted.
“I enjoy his company,” Diana answered with finality. “Yet he is still a plebian soldier, and I am of no use to men anyway…” Proculus winced. He often worried about his cousin. Her husband had divorced her upon learning that she could not have children; something that had made her feel like a failure in life, though as a divorcee she was left mostly self-sufficient from a social standpoint. Of course her barren condition would be known to any potential suitor, which made any match of potential worth impossible. No man would wish to marry a woman with whom he could not pass on his line.
Diana was a strong woman, though she was very much alone, and this troubled Proculus, as he cared for her deeply. He also worried about Diana’s younger sister, Claudia, who was betrothed to the tribune Pontius Pilate. He hoped that she did not bear her sister’s affliction as well. Though of the Equestrian class, Pilate’s career was on the rise and a match with him would benefit Claudia immensely.
“Since we will be staying here for a while, you will get a chance to continue to enjoy his company,” Proculus asserted. “I will see to it that he gets to finish his convalescing here with you, as you seem to be a better healer than my best surgeons.”
“I have arranged quarters in the main house for yourself and your senior officers,” Diana added as they walked through the main gate. Two sentries were on duty, both snapping to attention and saluting their Cohort Commander. Proculus removed his arm from Diana’s in order to return the courtesy.
“I am going to have the Cohort station itself in and around the estate. I want you to find the best cooks, butchers and bakers in town. While we are here, I want my men to be able to eat well and relax a bit.”
“Of course,” Diana replied. “And what of young Sergeant Artorius?” Proculus paused and frowned, pretending to be in deep thought.
“I will leave him to your care. Fortunately, none of my other soldiers were injured during the exchange. I have to say I am rather impressed. Once I have had a bath and something to eat, I will read the full reports on everything that happened.” He winked at his last remark.
“Sergeant Artorius reporting as ordered Sir.” In spite of his severe limp, and use of a walking stick, Artorius still managed to assume the position of attention and snap a sharp salute. Proculus sat behind a desk in an office that he had designed for his personal use when at the estate. Macro stood off to the side, behind Artorius, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Have a seat, Sergeant,” the Cohort Commander replied once he had returned the salute. Stifling a grimace of pain, Artorius eased himself into a waiting chair. Macro took a seat as well, though he remained silent. The conversation was strictly between the Decanus and the Cohort Commander. As Artorius’ Centurion, he was there primarily as an observer.
“It is quite the story that I have read in the official reports, as well as what I have gathered from other sources,” Proculus began. “Were it not for the fact that I saw over one-hundred dead gladiators and other rebel scum, and not one of my soldiers. It is baffling how one under strength Century can assault a fortified position, outnumbered, and yet come out victorious without a single fatality.”
“We had good leadership, and a good plan which we all executed with sound judgment,” Artorius replied, glancing over at Macro. Proculus waved a hand and Macro simply sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap.
“From the report given to me by your Centurion, the good leadership and sound judgment you speak of came from a small handful of men, led by one rather
zealous Decanus.” Artorius fidgeted in his seat, not certain if this was a compliment or a reprimand.
“Tell me,” Proculus continued, “how is it that there were twenty men on the walls of the house, and yet your men managed to eliminate every last one of them without raising the alarm?”
“They were mostly drunk, my men are thorough, and I did wish to face a potential beating from Centurion Macro,” Artorius answered without missing a beat. Proculus raised his eyebrows at the reply and Macro cocked a half-smirk. They then went over in detail the entire raid. When it came to the point where the surviving gladiators tried to escape with Diana in tow, Proculus’ expression turned cold.
“Your actions up to this point were brilliant, Sergeant. However, at this time you elected to attempt to kill the main hostage taker with your bare hands, with an injured leg no less. Dear gods, what in Hades were you thinking?”
“Proculus, I gave Artorius permission to execute his plan,” Macro replied.
“Sir,” Artorius spoke up, “those men had no intention of ever releasing your cousin. So great was their malice and spite, that had we allowed them to leave, they would have cut her throat at the next opportunity. And I dare say they would have violated her in the process.” Proculus looked over at Macro, who nodded.
“Sergeant Artorius is one of the best hand-to-hand fighters in my Century, even with a bad leg. His idea, though reckless as it may seem, was the only chance Diana ever had. What’s more, it worked.” Proculus looked down and nodded his consent.
“I agree,” he said quietly. He then took a deep breath through his nose before continuing. “Sergeant Artorius, your daring and valor have saved the lives of Roman citizens and salvaged their property. Moreover, I am personally indebted to you for having saved a member of my own family. Under normal circumstances, your actions would have earned you the Civic Crown.” Artorius’ eyes widened at the very mention of Rome’s highest award for valor, which was given to those who saved the life of a fellow citizen. His thoughts turned quickly to pending disappointment when he saw the downcast look on his Cohort Commander’s face.
“Unfortunately,” Proculus continued, “since there were no male citizens involved in the rescue, the Civic Crown cannot be awarded. Believe me Sergeant; it pains me to not be able to recommend you for this award. I received your recommendation for Legionary Decimus to receive the Rampart Crown, for having been the first over the wall of an enemy held position. Unfortunately, the Commanding General does not deem that this house met the description of an enemy stronghold, even under the circumstances. A pity really, since I have never heard of anyone being awarded the Rampart Crown four times!
“The best I can recommend is the Silver Torque for Valor for you and the men who conducted the assault with you. That I know I can get approved. I do want you to understand however, that you have my personal gratitude, and that full details of your actions will be annotated in the official reports.” With that, Proculus rose and extended his hand. With much pain and effort, Artorius rose and clasped it with his own. It was only the second time he had ever shaken hands with a Cohort Commander.
“Thank you Sir,” he replied. He then saluted.
“Dismissed, Sergeant,” Proculus replied as he returned the salute. Artorius turned and limped out of the room. Macro stayed.
“That is a brave young man, albeit a bit reckless,” Proculus remarked as he took his seat.
“I think of it as daring,” Macro answered. “His actions may seem like those of a madman at times, but believe me; Sergeant Artorius never makes a decision without thinking it through. He is one of the best I have for thinking on his feet.”
“Your Optio, Flaccus is retiring soon, isn’t he?” Proculus asked, changing the subject. Macro nodded.
“As soon as we get back, as a matter of fact. And I think I may have found his successor.”
“Well I hope you train him fast, because I dare say your time in your current position is growing short,” Proculus replied.
“What do you mean?” Macro asked, obviously confused. Proculus produced a set of documents.
“Your Sergeant’s actions are not the only ones who got noticed,” he answered. “Centurion Macro, I have been ordered to advise you that you have been selected for promotion to the First Cohort, as soon as a vacancy comes open.” He passed a scroll over to Macro, whose eyes lit up as he read the contents.
For conspicuous valor, sound judgment, superior tactical savvy, and leadership proficiency, Centurion Platorius Macro is hereby selected for promotion to Centurion Primus Ordo. Let it be known that Centurion Macro has been selected for promotion well ahead of his peers, thereby bypassing the rank of Centurion Pilus Prior, as a testament to his performance, valor, and fidelity. This promotion will take effect immediately upon a position within the First Cohort becoming vacant.
Signed,
Gaius Silius, Legate
Commanding General
Macro could only shake his head, astonished as he was.
“Oh come off it man, quit being so damn modest!” Proculus chided.
“Just do me a favor and don’t ever call me Sir, ok?” Macro laughed. “I have worked for you for too many years to ever feel comfortable with that.”
“Hey, you haven’t been promoted yet! Gods know how long it may take for someone to retire from the First. Besides, I received a similar letter myself. There’s an order of merit list that has the names of several top-rated Centurions who have been selected for membership within the First. You and I are at the top of that list.
“For now, I propose a toast.” With that he clapped his hands, and in walked a servant bearing a tray with two goblets and a pitcher of wine. When both glasses were filled, Proculus raised his.
“To my old friend and former pupil, Platorius Macro, Centurion Primus Ordo select.”
A day after the arrival of the Cohort, Kiana’s father and sister rode to the estate. They had yet to find out the fate of their beloved, and both looked hopeful as they sought out Centurion Proculus. The Roman knew they were coming and he dreaded their meeting.
“Ah, noble Centurion!” the Gaul spoke as he rushed up to where Proculus stood in the main foyer. He then looked around, puzzled. “I take it you have found my daughter?”
“We found her,” Proculus replied, clasping his hands behind his back, a dark frown creasing his face. The Gallic noble’s face dropped any sense of joy at hearing the news.
“Surely you have not imprisoned her!” he said emphatically. “She is but a child; a child who was manipulated by thugs and could not have done any real harm!”
“She is not imprisoned,” the Centurion stated, briefly looking over at Tierney. The young woman caught his meaning and she quietly covered her mouth with her hand while closing her eyes tightly and stifling a low moan.
“Well then why is she not here to greet me?” the Gaul persisted. Proculus sighed and started to walk down a side hall.
“Follow me.” Without bothering to see if his other daughter was behind him, the Gallic noble quickly fell in behind the Centurion. They came to a room with no door that led to a small, enclosed garden. A legionary stood on either side of the entrance and they snapped to attention as their Cohort Commander approached. Proculus pointed into the garden, remaining in the hall as Tierney and her father entered quickly.
They stopped just inside as they caught sight of Kiana. Her body lay uncovered on top of a dais. Her neck was wrapped, although she still wore the blood-soaked gown that she had died in. Her hands were folded across her stomach, her eyes shut.
“My sweet little girl, what have they done to you?” her father despaired as he fell to his knees in front of her. Quietly he ran his hand across her forehead and kissed her on the cheek. Tierney walked up and grasped one of Kiana’s now cold hands. Her father turned to her and in a fit of rage slapped her hand away.
“Don’t you dare touch her; you are the one who led her to this!” he snapped. Tierney backed away, frightened by her father�
�s sudden burst of anger. His eyes were no longer cast in sadness, but fury. One of the legionaries moved as if to enter the room, only to be stayed by Proculus’ hand. He would not allow the situation to become violent; however until it did he was not going to interfere.
“Father, please, I tried…” Tierney’s words were cut short by her father’s next outburst, his hand pointing at her accusingly.
“Do not call me Father!” he shouted. “I charged you with taking care of your little sister and this is what I get?” He raised his hand to strike, only to be distracted by the sound of Proculus and the legionaries entering the room. All three men gripped the pommels of their gladii and the Centurion slowly shook his head. The Gaul lowered his hand before addressing Tierney once more.
“I have no daughter!” he spat. “I disown you, vile harlot. You are no child of mine!” With that he left the garden through an outside passage, avoiding further eye contact with either Tierney or the Roman soldiers.
“She redeemed herself in the end,” Proculus said quietly as Tierney turned to face him. She was in a complete state of shock and unable to speak. “She gave her life saving that of one of my men.”
“Felix?” Tierney asked, swallowing hard. Proculus nodded. Tierney nodded in reply and turned back to her sister. Proculus signaled for the soldiers to leave the room so the young woman could have her moment with her sister.
It was a somber day; clouds casting a shadow as if the Fates sought to emphasize the sadness. A freshly dug grave dominated the scene. A small group of legionaries stood on either side. Proculus, along with the Centurions and Options, were at the head of the grave. Diana stood next to her cousin, shroud in mourning garb. It was at her request that Proculus and his men attend. Kiana had sinned greatly, but to Diana she had made things right in the end. She had sacrificed her own life trying to save that of Felix. The young legionary lay upright on a litter hastily constructed by his mates. His wounds were still heavily bandaged, but there was a trace of color returning to his face. Artorius sat next to him, his injured leg propped up on a stump in front of him. He kept looking over at Diana, but she appeared to not notice him. Instead her eyes were fixed on the grave that would soon hold the remains of the girl she had so desperately tried to save.
