Soldier of Rome: The Sacrovir Revolt (The Artorian Chronicles) (37 page)

“We were damn glad to have your boys with us,” Vitruvius observed.
“Helped to even the odds a bit.”

Aviola
shook his hand dismissively. “It helped us bang off some of the battle rust.  Come, I’ll show you around.  All principal officers stay over here in the rooms upstairs, legionaries stay over at the flats.  It’s a pretty good setup all around.”

After much confusion, Artorius and the section found their flat.
It was actually a pair of flats, with an interior door added. Similar to the setup in a legionary barracks, one room had four pairs of bunks, a table, cooking stove, and other personal effects; the other room was for storing armor, weapons, and equipment.

“Well
, this doesn’t look bad,” Magnus remarked as he gazed at the interior.

“No, not bad at all,” Valens replied, setting down his carrying pack next to one of the bunks.

Artorius set his gear down next to a bunk at the back of the room, where there was a desk and chair for his use.
“I think we will make do just fine,” he said with a smile as he lay down on his bunk.  Lugdunum was a rather luxurious spa town, and Artorius knew he would enjoy this assignment immensely.  Indeed, the men of the Eighth Legion seemed heartbroken to be leaving.

Indus and Silius both stood before the Emperor, members of the First and Twentieth Legions on hand, along with Indus’ entire regiment.
Vast numbers of civilians had arrived as well, many of whom had never even seen their Emperor, aside from his image on coins and statues. Tiberius took a deep breath as he gazed at the sight. Being around such men invigorated him; such manliness had defined his life for so many years. In truth, there had been no need for him to even come. The rebellion had been crushed almost as soon as Rome had been made aware of it. Yet Tiberius had used the opportunity to visit the legions. The First and Twentieth had both been under his command at one time, and he felt a certain bond with these men. While he was in Rome he had to live with Senators and Nobles who amounted to little more than old women; but these, these were
men
.

“Commander Julius Indus, come forward,” the Emperor
commanded, his voice carrying across the parade field outside Augustodunum.

Indus stepped onto the raised dais
where the Emperor and Drusus stood. Drusus then handed Tiberius a simple crown made of oak leaves, which the Emperor placed upon Indus’ head.

“For your loyalty, courage, and impeccable savvy in battle,” Tiberius began, “you are awarded the Civic Crown.
Your actions have saved the lives of countless Roman citizens.” He then turned to Drusus, who handed him an ornate scroll which Tiberius started to read from. “In recognition of your superior leadership, fidelity, and service to the Empire, the Treveri cavalry regiment shall, from this day forth, be forever known as
Indus’ Horse
. As this name brings with it no small amount of honor, Indus’ Horse will always be a regiment made up of only the finest cavalrymen.” He then handed the scroll to Indus, who took it and bowed low before the Emperor.

Silius then came forward with a magnificent standard.
It bore a red cloth banner, emblazed with the image of a black horse with the words
Indus Equus, Fidelis Victrix
or
Indus’ Horse, Fidelity and Victory.

“I am deeply honored, Caesar,” he
said.

Tiberius shook his head.
“No,” he replied, “the honor is mine to be able to bestow this upon you.”  With that, he stepped back and saluted Indus.  His face beaming, Indus returned the salute before turning to face the crowds. His men immediately broke into a frenzy of howls and cheers for their commander, chanting his name over and over. Even the legionaries gave a loud series of ovations for their friend and ally, as did the crowd of civilians. No title, award for valor, or accolade from the Senate could ever compare with the honor the Emperor had just bestowed upon him. In a sense, he had been given immortality; for in the years to come, even long after he had crossed over to the afterlife, there would always be
Indus’ Horse
.

Life had been hectic for Pontius Pilate now that he was back in Rome.
His future father-in-law had wanted to see him before he even had a chance to get settled. Apparently he had been planning a special “welcome home” banquet for the Tribune for some time. Though his betrothed Claudia was in Gaul with her sister, this did not stop the elder Proculus from following through on a massive celebration to welcome Pilate home. This was immediately followed by another banquet held by the Praetorians as a means of acknowledging him into their ranks. The Emperor himself had attended, and it was the first time Pilate had ever met Tiberius in person.

Their meeting had been cordial enough, though Pilate found he was
rather intimidated in the presence of the Emperor. Even when Tiberius took the time to congratulate Pilate on his posting and express his utmost confidence in him, he could not help but feel as if he was being tested; that Tiberius was scrutinizing him, trying to find fault in him. Perhaps that was just his way.

Pilate found the Praetorians to be a different lot.
Most viewed themselves as being of a better class than those serving in the legions. This was true in some ways; the Praetorians were the Emperor’s personal bodyguards and as such were paid significantly better than their brother legionaries. The premise was that the Praetorians were the elite of the Roman Army, selected for their ability as fighting men. While Pilate did not doubt that the men in the Praetorians were talented, he wondered just how many were hardened veterans and not merely from influential families.

The mines came into view as the caravan made its way into the dusty outcropping of rock formations. Radek gave a wicked sneer over towards a young boy who was whimpering in the corner of their cage. The lad was sick with a fever and trembling badly. Radek cursed his luck that his injuries had prevented him from escaping during their slave drivers’ botched attempts to relieve their carnal lust on some of the young nobles.
His wounds had healed, though he would never walk correctly again. Not that it mattered, with a little luck he would be dead within a month. He leaned over and grabbed the sickly youth by the thigh.

“Welcome to your new home,” he said mockingly.

The lad just looked up at him, eyes distant. “Don’t worry my poppet, you and I will have enough time to grow close before these places consume us…
really
close.”

The boy’s eyes grew wide in terror, though he was too weak to even protest. Radek let out a loud guffaw, only to succumb to a harsh coughing fit. The butt of a spear rapped him on the back of the head through the cage.

“Quiet in there!” an auxiliary shouted at him.

Radek then leaned back and stared at the bright sun that shone through the bars.
“Take a good look at the sun, lads,” he said in a hoarse voice, “for it is the last time any of us will ever see her.”

Chapter XIX:
Into the Shadows
***

Artorius opened the window of their barracks flat and stretched his arms overhead as the morning breeze caressed him. After a deep breath he rested his hands on the sill. He gazed upon the city, which was just starting to come awake. His flat looked over the city’s lower aqueduct, which led into the forum. He watched as an ornate litter made its way into the slowly filling markets. Over his shoulder he heard Magnus let out a rather loud and obnoxious yawn.

“So where to today?” the Norseman asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

The section was tasked with ‘city patrol’ that day; a term that was vague at best.
Proculus’ only stipulation was that sections on patrol duty make their presence known throughout the city, thereby making the populace feel secure. Lugdunum had its own urban police, who were little more than hired men armed with clubs tasked with keeping the peace. The sight of legionaries within the cities gave the citizens confidence and a sense of ease.

“I think we’ll hit the forum this morning,” Artorius replied, his gaze still fixed on the litter.
“Looks like we’ve got some patrician guests, We’d better make them feel at home.”

“Hmm,” Magnus replied, his thoughts elsewhere.

Artorius had moved his bunk
and desk into the rear room of the flat where the section stored its weapons and kit. The rooms were significantly larger than those of a legionary barracks, With a little rearranging, Artorius was able to have his own room with a relative sense of privacy. His soldiers lived in the other room and were able to spread their bunks out so as not to have to stack them on top of each other.

He opened the door to the section bay and walked over to the shuttered windows. He pulled these open as Magnus proceeded to kick the bunks of the legionaries.

“Another beautiful morning, fellas!” Artorius shouted.

“Piss off,” he heard Carbo mutter as he pulled his blanket over his head.

Artorius raised an eyebrow at the remark, grabbed Carbo’s gladius-
-still in the scabbard--from the end of his bunk and brought the flat of the weapon down in a brutal smash across the legionary’s buttocks.

“Ouch!”
Carbo bellowed as he pitched out of his bunk, head-first into the wall.

“You dumbass,”
Decimus snickered as his fellow legionary stumbled over his bunk, one hand cover his forehead, the other on his buttocks. Decimus elbowed him in the ribs “Know who you’re talking to before you get castrated for insubordination!”

“Alright, let’s get moving,” Artorius ordered.
“You all know what your duties are this morning. Gavius get started on breakfast. I want everyone cleaned up, shaved, and ready to patrol in one hour. And Carbo, you’ve got latrines for the next week and are banned from the taverns during that time.”

The legionary hung his head sheepishly and nodded.
Carbo knew he had been spending too much time at the ale houses. A week sober, along with some correctional details, would do him good.

The forum was starting to fill with patrons by the time Artorius arrived with his section. Imperial cities were an odd mix of peoples from the very corners of the Empire and beyond. There was one particular merchant who proclaimed he was from the very end of the world. Given the man’s appearance, it was believable. He was shorter than average, with a face that bore a slight resemblance to the barbarians from the far east Steppes; however, he had stated that he was from a region to the south of, and even further east. His trade involved mostly spices and medicinal herbs which he said took a full year to reach him from the ends of the earth. It was here that Artorius found the patrons he was looking for.

A litter, along with several attendants, sat next to the oriental spice shop.
Artorius was a bit surprised to see Centurion Proculus talking with the two ladies who had been riding in the litter.

“Looks like Proculus beat us to it,” Magnus observed.

Artorius looked back at his legionaries.
All were kitted in full armor; however, he felt that shields and javelins would have been too cumbersome to carry through the crowded city and had his men armed with gladii only.

“Looks that way,” he replied
, with a touch or resignation. “Alright, let’s head over to the docks; there’s usually something of interest going on down there.”

“I heard that the Scriptorium has a copy of Horace’s
Odes IV
,” Decimus said. “Can we stop by there? I’ve wanted to read that for some time.”

“I don’t see why not,” Artorius replied as he turned back around
, ignoring Carbo’s remarks regarding Decimus’ literacy. As they started to march away, his eyes glanced back towards the pair of ladies with Centurion Proculus. One was very young, still a few years away from womanhood. It was the elder one that caught the decanus’ eye.

She was almost as tall as Artorius, with shoulder-length hair that, as was the latest fashion, dyed a dark blonde.
Her stola could not hide the athletic curves of her body and Artorius found no way to describe the beauty that seemed to radiate from her face. Her smile was warm and inviting, her eyes dark and piercing. So enraptured was Artorius that he did not notice the pillar until he walked into it with a crash of his helm. His vision blurred for a second as his head jarred to the side. He stepped back and looked around, though no one seemed to have noticed his mishap aside from his legionaries, who were trying to suppress their sniggering.

“Well
, I’ll be buggered,” he said, his face turning red. “How long has that pillar been there?”

From across the street he saw Proculus raise his eyebrows and give a short laugh of amusement.
His lady companion turned and looked Artorius’ way. Her eyes snared his gaze, and he found that he could not look away. She gave him a friendly smile, and he winked at her in reply. Proculus then took her by the arm and escorted the two women away, all the while suppressing his amusement.

Daily drill and training complete, Pilate was relieved to finally be able to take his friend Justus up on getting together for a spot of wine and storytelling.
He invited the optio to his residence; a rather plush and ostentatious house near the Praetorian barracks.

“Justus, old boy!” he said boisterously as his friend walked onto the covered balcony where Pilate had directed servants to bring the wine and appetizers.

“It’s been too long,” Justus replied as the two embraced and smacked each other hard on the back.

Each then stepped back to appraise the other, for it had been ten years since last they saw each other.

Justus Longinus was a big man, slightly shorter than Pilate, but with a broad, powerful frame. His red hair was already starting to thin, something Pilate made note of immediately.

“And you’re already starting to turn a bit grey!”
Justus replied with friendly sarcasm.

Pilate laughed and waved him to a seat.
“So tell me, what brought you all the way back here from the east?”

Justus gave a shrug.
“It seems the governor wanted a representative to act as a liaison between the eastern provinces and Rome. He wanted it kept low-key, so they decided to send a ranker under the premise of working with the Praetorians.  The very day I was promoted to optio, I get my assignment orders.”

“Well
, it has to have been a nice change of pace for you,” Pilate conjectured.

Justus took a long pull of his wine.
“I admit that it’s been pretty decent. Though Flavia was probably more excited about it than I was.”

“
That doesn’t surprise me.” Pilate had momentarily forgotten about Justus’ young wife, given that, for the most part, soldiers below the rank of centurion were forbidden from marrying. “I never understood how you were able to stay married once you joined the legions.”

“It wasn’t too hard,” Justus said.
“Flavia’s father, you remember, is a rather wealthy grain merchant. Well, let’s just say that a spot of coin in the right hands and all of the sudden I had a special dispensation that allowed me to remain married.”

Pilate smirked.
“It’s ironic how a little gold can buy an exception to almost any rule.  Still, I am happy for you. Flavia is a good woman.  And how is little Gaius?”

“Not so little anymore,” Justus sighed, “
though he’s still a royal pain in my ass!”

“Well
, that’s how sons are,” Pilate laughed. “How old is he now?”

“Almost eleven,” the
optio replied, “and little Gaia will be two in a month. So, do tell, when are you going to start having children?”

“You forget, Claudia is still a young girl, scarcely older than your Gaius,” Pilate answered.

“A beautiful prize, that one, if she blossoms into anything resembling her sister,” Justus added, as he took another pull off his wine. His remark caused Pilate to wince. “Did I say something to offend, old friend?”

Pilate shook his head.
“No, it’s not that. I do not deny that Diana is a strikingly gorgeous woman.  However, you must remember that she was married and subsequently divorced at a young age, once it was discovered that she could not bear children.”

“Yes, I forgot about that,” Justus replied
, a look of concern crossing his face. “You don’t think Claudia suffers from the same affliction, do you?”

“I hope not.
It would be a shame to be betrothed for all these years, only to have to divorce right away because she cannot have children. What a shame it would be if the Pontius line ended with me.” Pilate drained his goblet and reminisced in silence for a minute. He then cheerfully acknowledged his friend. “At least we know the Longinus line will continue after you!”

“True,” Justus remarked.
  “Gaius is a good lad. He’s strong, intelligent, and eager. It’s this last trait that gets him in trouble. He tries so hard to please me, but in doing so he becomes reckless. I do hope when he gets older he’ll be able to temper his aggression with prudence.”

“Think he’ll follow you into the legions?”

Justus nodded immediately at Pilate’s question.

“Without a doubt. He’s incredibly smart, and his potential is unlimited no matter what career path he chooses. However, I know that in his heart he wants to be a soldier. I can’t say I’m disappointed, although I do make certain he studies his academic lessons well. If my son is going to be a legionary, then he will be an educated one!”

Pilate smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm.
Justus was not known for showing emotions of any sort to his children, and yet he could not stop from beaming when talking about them to his friends. Inside Pilate wondered if Gaius would ever know how his father felt about him.

“So,” Justus said, changing topics, “what do think of the Praetorians so far?”

“They’re not bad,” Pilate replied with a shrug. “Rather pompous, most of them. But then I guess they have earned that right.”

“Yeah, most of them just avoid me if they can,” Justus observed.
“They see me as nothing more than a minor irritant; not only because I am but a soldier from the legions, but also because they know my purpose here is not simply to build goodwill between the rankers and the Praetorians. They know the eastern governors do not trust all that comes through the imperial post, but they did not want to cause a stir by having to dispatch a diplomat.”

“And is there reason for them to fee
l they are being left in the dark?” Pilate’s voice was lined with concern.

Justus sought to dispel it.
“It’s not that bad. I mean, everyone knows your boss, Sejanus, screens everything going in and out through the imperial post.  However, I think the eastern legates are given all the information that is relevant to their duties.  If anything, Sejanus censors the bits of unsubstantiated gossip that would only serve to tarnish the Emperor’s good name and act as a distraction to the governors.  A private courier comes about once every six weeks to see what information I may have.  I give them just enough to keep them intrigued, and therefore keep me here in Rome.”