Soldier of Rome: The Sacrovir Revolt (The Artorian Chronicles) (10 page)

“You were a hard one to find,” Livia
said wryly with a genial smile.

Martina smile
d back. “When one does not wish to be discovered. . .” she left the rest of her reply hanging as she continued to eat. “Do you take much pleasure in your trade?” Livia asked.

Martina only shrugged.

“It’s a job. Somebody has to be there to do the dirty work, I suppose. I’ve been studying medicines and poison most of my life.”

Livia nodded politely
. “So tell me,” she said, pouring Martina a goblet of wine, “how was it you came into the employment of the Pisos?” Her interrogation of Plancina was fresh in her mind, and she earnestly wished to know the truth. There was no doubt that Martina had acted as Germanicus’ executioner, there was just the question of at whose bequest.

The portly woman paused in her eating. 
“From what I gathered, Plancina had been hounding Piso for some time to do something about Germanicus. She was never very committal though.” She took a long drink of wine before continuing. “Piso was beside himself as to what to do. I swear that man could never make up his own mind!”  She snorted and helped herself to the bread. “Finally, I guess he decided he’d had enough and sent a servant to come see me. I took the job, of course. Though the price for an imperial prince was quite large, I assured him!”

“I’m sure it almost
bankrupted
him,” Livia replied with a small laugh. Her demeanor was very pleasant, something that confirmed Martina’s belief that Livia, as well as the Emperor himself, had been plotting Germanicus’ downfall for some time.

Martina cared not for the intricacies of
imperial politics. In truth, she found the entire Julio-Claudian family to be rather perverse. When not fighting the world, they were fighting each other!

“So
, Plancina played no part in the ordeal, then?” Livia mused, hoping Martina would take the bait.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she replied
, and paused thoughtfully. “For once she was the one who was ambiguous as to what should be done. She knew by incurring Germanicus’ ill will her husband was in jeopardy, not to mention Agrippina - she’s quite the vindictive one! I almost wish they had asked me to do her as well. I probably would have done it for free.”

T
he pleasant smile on Livia’s face was no longer pleasant as Martina suddenly felt a stabbing pain in her belly.

“Oh, I must have eaten too fast!” she said with a short, unconvincing laugh.
She began to feel hot and sticky. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She looked at Livia in alarm.

The Empress’ demeanor was no longer pleasant.
“You underestimated the Julio-Claudians. You really did,” Livia said, almost conversationally. “You obviously believe the slander and thought I could have been so ruthless as to have had a hand in the murder of my own blood? You are an abomination!”

Martina was suddenly in a panic. Her stomach was turning in knots, and she was starting to feel dizzy. She went to reach for Livia, only to find that her hand was trembling badly and refused to function properly.

Martina might have been little more than a peasant, but she was not stupid and realized why Livia arranged their ’meeting’. She tried to stand, but found her body was already too weak to support her bulk, and she fell ungracefully on the floor.

“What is going to happen to me?” she
asked, her eyes wide with panic.

Livia stood over her.
“You should know.  It’s what you gave Germanicus.”  Her voice was icy as she continued. “I know history and slanderers will forever damn me, finding some way to connect me to his death. But my own conscience is clear, knowing that, in my little way, I avenged my grandson.” Martina could only stare in terror, her mouth gaping like a fish. Her breath came in short gasps, her chest felt like it was in a vice. The pain in her belly spread through her body. In her fading vision, she saw a man standing over her. Everything else around her had turned to black, but he stood out clearly. The man was dressed as a legionary legate, eyes were full of wrath, his sword drawn. She knew his face, and it terrified her.

He’s come for me!
She thought, as what remained of her breathing came in short rasps. No longer could she speak, and all she could see was the form of the man seeking his revenge on her.

Livia walked over to the door and gave it a short rap. A man wearing a
legionary tunic, sword belt, and cloak walked in and bowed.

“My friend seems to have fallen ill,” Livia
said, looking at Martina’s body with mock concern. “Be so kind to see to it she is taken care of.”   With that she swept out of the room.

“Yes
, Lady,” he replied.

Chapter IV: Return to Germania

***

Ietano swallowed hard when he received word that Roman soldiers were approaching. It had been four years since he had seen a Roman. He had been wounded at Idistaviso and arrived at the Angrivarii stronghold in time to watch the Romans destroy it.   He claimed Bructeri heritage, even though he was a Cherusci by blood and tried to put the scourge placed on the disgraced and decimated Cherusci in the past.  Being one of Arminius’ closest confidants brought him much in the way of glory and honor. He’d since become chief of a small tribe of scattered Cherusci.

“How many?” he asked the young warrior who was trying to catch his breath after running a great distance to give Ietano the news.

“It appears to be a single cohort,” he answered.

Strange
, Ietano thought,
a single cohort moving on its own?
Either the Romans had become confidant to the point of being almost arrogant since their victory, or they were laying a trap to provoke war once again.

Ietano took a deep breath.  “Summon the village elders,” he ordered. “We will see what these Romans want. Rest
assured if an entire cohort is moving our way, there are more.”

A small gathering of the tribe leaders and warriors made their way towards the approaching
legionaries.

As they walked through the thick woods and came upon a large clearing
, Ietano was impressed with the way the soldiers moved in step with one another, their red and gold shields close together, javelins protruding forward. They wore the standard armor of segmented plates, which caught the glint of the sun. Eight men marched abreast in the columns.  At the head was a soldier bearing the cohort’s standard, and another that was unmistakably the centurion pilus prior. His armor was adorned with his medals and decorations, setting him apart from the other soldiers, as well as the transverse crest that adorned the top of his helmet.

“Cohort…halt!”
Proculus shouted. 

Artorius’ section was directly behind Proculus in the front rank. He gazed with distain at the small gathering that arrived to meet them. It was a group of ten men, mostly elderly.

Artorius’ mind briefly drifted back to a time of horrendous battles. He had been decorated for valor, having personally killed War Chief Ingiomerus, the uncle of Arminius. Though openly docile, the men who came to parlay with the Romans exuded a tension-filled air of hate. Their clansmen may have died by the thousands, but those who survived lost none of their will to fight, nor their lust for glory. Artorius snorted at the notion. He had found honor in serving as a soldier of Rome, but not the elusive “glory” that supposedly accompanied it. To him, glory was just a word one used to compel men to perform as one’s puppets. Julius Caesar had often spoken of it, and yet what of the men who executed the horrific tasks he had set them to? Was their glory for them? Perhaps, but it was fleeting at best.

A small number of warriors had started to gather behind their village elders. One in particular
, stared at Artorius.  He was slightly irritated with the barbarian’s blatant stare.

“Find out what you can here,” Proculus told Macro. “I’ll take the rest of the
cohort on ahead.”

“Yes
, sir,” Macro replied. 

Ietano approached the
centurion as the rest of the Third Cohort continued its march. “What business brings the legions of Rome to our lands?” He asked as neutrally as possible. “It has been some years since we’ve seen soldiers venture across the Rhine.” “Circumstances were slightly different then,” Macro replied politely. “We have come to make certain your people remain peaceful and are no threat to Roman interests.”

“If you see us as a threat, why not just come and conquer our lands?” one warrior blurted out.  “Is that not the Roman way?” 

Ietano blanched at the man’s outburst.  Before he could speak, Macro turned to the warrior.

“Do not try my patience,
barbarian.
  If you doubt that Rome can take your lands at leisure, think back to the final days of the war four years ago.”  Macro strained to keep his voice as neutral as Ietano.   “You are Cherusci, are you not?” 

Ietano hissed at the brash warrior to keep silent
, then sighed resignedly, “The Cherusci are no more. Your attempt to exterminate all of us may have failed, but you succeeded in wiping out the Cherusci influence from these lands.”

Artorius was a little surprised to hear the bitter regret in his voice
, as if he were almost ashamed of his blood.

“What of Arminius?” Macro asked, seeing no need to delay looking for what he sought. “You practically revered him as a god, and
yet his head was offered to the Emperor after the war.”

“Arminius is dead. He was recently murdered by some of the other chiefs, hoping Rome would not return to our lands and
would leave us in peace.”  He snorted, “Such a waste, that was!”

“Indeed. You did not play a role in his death, then?” Macro asked bluntly.

Ietano raised his head proudly. “
I
stood by Arminius till the very end. I am proud to have fought beside such a magnificent warrior and chief!” Macro nodded and gave a dismissive wave of the hand. Just then, the warrior who had been staring at Artorius stepped forward purposefully.

“Murderer!”
he screamed, pointing towards Artorius who raised his eyebrows.

“Who in the bloody hell…” Macro began when Ietano stepped in front of the raging warrior putting himself between the enraged warrior and Artorius.

“No, Thrax! This is not the way; we are no longer at war with Rome!”

“To hell with Rome!” Thrax spat. “My sister and her children died at his hands!  They had no part in that war!”

“What in the name of Mercury is this man ranting about?” Macro sighed, exasperated.  He secured the information they came for, and he wanted to leave. 

The barbarians’ stink carried on the wind.  Unfortunately, the
legion was downwind. 

Thrax’s outburst cau
sed a stir amongst the warriors, and suddenly Macro found himself wishing Proculus had not left them there.

“This bastard ran his sword through my sister! He murdered her children!”

“Instead of fighting, like the rest of the warriors in your tribe,” Artorius replied calmly, “you hid like a scared little girl?”  Then he bit his tongue. 
Nice going, Artorius,
he said to himself. 
That’s just going to make things worse.
 

Thrax screamed in rage and tried to push his way past Ietano
, who stood fast in his way. The warrior was a big man, taller than Artorius by a few inches, though leaner in physique. A great two-handed sword was strapped to his otherwise bare back. The sergeant looked over at his centurion, who gave a curt nod. Artorius steeled himself to fight the enraged German.

“If your man is so bent on destroying me, he can have me.” Artorius planted his javelin in the ground and stepped out from the formation.

Ietano still did not move out of the way.

“I think it is only fair, and in the spirit of your people’s warrior traditions, that these two men be allowed to settle their differences,” Macro observed, his arms folded across his chest.

Ietano shook his head.

“This is not the way to keep peace with Rome,” he replied.

“Kill him and cut out his heart, Thrax!”
a young boy shouted as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd. No older than twelve, he carried a spear and shield tailored for his size.

Artorius snorted in contempt.  “Your grievance with me is about your sister and her children yet
you
also send children to their deaths?”  He paused and continued, “That is not the
Roman
way.”

“That will do,
sergeant.”  Macro said quietly, privately pleased with Artorius’ daring remark.

At Ietano’s command
, a few other warriors surrounded Thrax and half pushed, half dragged him to the back of the crowd.  He raised his voice so that all could hear him, “This is
not
the way!”

Artorius let out a deep breath.  It wasn’t that he was afraid to fight, he was confident his greater bulk and skill could take down the
berserker, but he was concerned about the retributions, even though he didn’t start it.

To everyone’s surprise the boy shouted and charged Artorius, who neatly stepped aside and tripped the youth.  Spear and shield flew out of his hands when he hit the ground.  Quickly Artorius straddled the boy and closed his hand around the small neck.  Not enough to hurt more
than bruises, but enough to make it clear he could snap the boy’s neck at will.

“I am a
soldier of Rome
,” he hissed.  “My battle is not against children, although I will kill them if ordered.” 

The boy’s eyes were wide with fear.

A warrior who appeared to be the boy’s older brother stepped forward.  “Please let him go.  He is young and should not be here.” 

Artorius nodded and stood.  The boy allowed himself to be led away.

Macro cleared his throat and broke the awkward silence.  “Let us consider this matter to be resolved. Understand that any further acts of violence will be perceived as open war against Rome Herself. I am certain you understand full well the consequences of this.” He glared at Ietano and the other elders to let the words sink in.

The German chief was breathing hard through his nose, but eventually he raised his hand and waved his warriors off. He then stepped forward, face to face with Centurion Macro.

“I agree with your words. But take heed, Roman. There will never be true peace between our nations. We will always be in the background of your thoughts and nightmares, watching, waiting. Maybe not in my lifetime, but one day Rome will all.”

“You will always be a scourge to us, I have no doubt,” Macro replied, dryly. “Take heed and realize that any such attempts against the might of Rome will end in fire and blood, as you are all too familiar. Good day.” With that he turned his back on the chieftain, an insult not lost on Ietano, and ended their meeting.

Artorius
watched as Ietano started to wave his warriors back towards the village.

“Think they will try anything?” Flaccus asked Macro as the
century marched away.

“I don’t know,” Macro replied. “I doubt if that chief has any
real fight left in him. However, the warriors look like they still have plenty. It comes down to how much control he has over them. We will take no chances.”

“Understood,” Flaccus replied.

The court was crammed with people. The Emperor sat at the head of the chamber, on a raised platform. He appeared nonchalant, but he stewed inside. He made it a point to not talk with Piso in private. Any private discussions between them would be perceived as some kind of negotiation. Senators sat on benches on either side of the Emperor. They came to bear judgment in conjunction with the Emperor, who would pass any necessary sentence.

Piso
, his wife, and son sat behind a table surrounded by his defense counsel. The table occupied by the prosecution was crowded, to say the least. Four prosecutors, Germanicus’ widow, Agrippina, his brother, Claudius, and the Emperor’s own son, Drusus, sat together. At length, the prosecutor, Vitellius stood to address the Senate and Emperor.

“Caesar, members of the Senate, I come before you today to bear witness against Cnaeus Calpurnius Piso, a man who has sought to further his own interests through sedition, rebellion
, and even murder. Not only have his acts disrupted already troubled provinces, but the murder of the Emperor’s own adopted son, Germanicus Caesar, has deprived Rome of one of her greatest and most competent statesman.

“On the charge of sedition, I give you the following. That while en route to Syria, Piso did needlessly rouse the anger of the citizens of Athens with his volatile and hostile speech. And when ordered by his senior, Germanicus, to send troops to aid him in his Armenia campaign, Piso blatantly refused to do so. Were it not for the competent generalship and diplomacy of Germanicus, the entire province could have been lost. Piso even went so far as to lavish gifts upon the most insolent and unsavory of troops in the province, seeking to gain their favor. Those with distinguished records and superior conduct
, he either ignored or treated with disdain out of their allegiance to Germanicus, and therefore the Emperor! And when Germanicus fell ill, he accused Piso
by name
of having been attempting to poison him. On his temporary recovery, the people of the east rejoiced. Piso had the audacity to send attendants to disperse them in Antioch!” Vitellius paused briefly. Piso was fidgeting in his chair. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and swallowed hard. Vitellius continued: