Soldier of Rome: The Centurion (The Artorian Chronicles) (34 page)

Artorius looked over the pile of paperwork on his desk and let out a sigh. It never seemed to end! No sooner had they buried their dead than the Century, what was left of it, was back to its monotonous daily routine. Disgusted, he turned to leave, only to find his path blocked by Optio Praxus.

“I think you’re going to want to look at those,” he stated. Artorius glared at him, and then turned and sat behind his desk.

“What have we got then?” he asked, rubbing his forehead. He already had a bad headache and did not wish to deal with routine matters.

“First are the official promotion orders for Sergeant Felix and Sergeant Valens.”

This perked Artorius up. He was always glad to sign off on promotions for worthy legionaries, and those two had done far more than any to earn theirs.

“Rufio drew up the chits for their back pay, too. It just needs your approval.”

Artorius signed both without even reading them. The Signifier was a stickler fo
r efficiency, and Artorius trusted him completely.

“What’s next?” he asked.

Praxus grinned and handed him another batch of orders. “These are the citations for all of our awards. Seems Apronius was feeling generous and didn’t ask too many questions.”

Artorius read through each scroll in turn. Two were awards of the Civic Crown for Magnus and Valens. Valens was the only squad leader able to maintain any semblance of order once the line collapsed, and Magnus’ counterattack with the men from the Fourth Century had bought them enough time to save a number of the wounded. There were fifteen Silver Torques for Valor
, as well. Artorius loathed the idea of mass awards. However, the valor of his men could not be questioned, and he had personally recommended the awards for every soldier in his Century that was still standing when the battle was over. He then looked puzzled as he counted the scrolls again. There should have been fourteen, not fifteen. He then opened each one, looking at the names, in case he had missed someone. As he read through them his face suddenly darkened. Praxus swallowed hard as the Centurion slowly rolled a scroll up. His face contorted in rage, he threw it across the office. It was then that the Optio knew whose name had been on that particular order.

“Why, Praxus?”
Artorius asked, shaking his head. “Why would Dominus do that to me?”

“If it makes you feel any better, at least he didn’t recommend you for the Civic Crown,” Praxus replied with his usual good nature. His attempt to calm the
Centurion failed as Artorius glared at him, and he became serious once more. “Look, no one else doubts your valor on the line, so why do you?”

“Because I failed
!” Artorius roared, slamming his fist onto the table. “Our orders were to hold the flank. We
failed
in our mission! We were overrun, and if not for Cursor’s cavalry we would all be dead! That responsibility is mine…as are the slain.”

Praxus then looked down for a moment.

“Artorius,
no one
could have held the flank. The entire Legion was simply holding long enough for Cursor’s auxilia, along with the Fifth Legion, to relieve us. We did what we had to, and that was simply to survive. You discredit yourself, and yet it was your valor that held the line together as long as it did. I think any other Centurion would have lost the flank on the first day.”

“I don’t know,” Artorius replied weakly. “I just don’t feel like I deserve any kind of
accolades. Do you remember the first time I was awarded the Silver Torque?”

“I do,” Praxus nodded and grinned. “You got it during the Germanic Wars. It was for killing Ingiomerus, the second most important Cherusci war chief, second only to Arminius.”

“And I remember the feelings of pure ecstasy the day it was awarded,” Artorius reminisced. “It was the high point of my career up to that point. Hell, it’s still one of the best moments I’ve had in the legions! I was still a legionary then, with but two and a half years in the ranks at the time. Eleven years later and I am now getting my fourth Silver Torque for Valor, and yet it feels hollow. There’s no joy in this one, no feelings of accomplishment or self worth, nothing but guilt. I look at this award and I see not my personal valor, only the faces of my men who did not come home.”

The sun was starting to fall and the light shone red through the Centurion’s office. Artorius let out a sigh. He had intended to oversee the Century as it went through
passage-of-lines
drills and spend some time on the training stakes. The grumbling in his stomach told him that training had been completed for some time, and the men were having their supper. He sighed and threw his stylus down. Once again he had allowed tedious, albeit necessary, paperwork ruin his plans, and he had spent the entire day in the office once more. There was still much left to do, but he was no longer in the mood. He stood and walked out into the main office when a face he had not seen some time greeted him as Centurion Statorius walked in.

“Thought I would find you here,” Statorius said with a grin.

Artorius laughed and shook his head. He and his former squad leader rarely saw each other anymore. “Not for long, I’m just leaving for home.”

“Not going to the tavern for a drink then?” Statorius asked.

Artorius pretended to be insulted. “Dear gods, no!” he retorted. “It’s loud, dirty, and full of sullen whores!”

“Uh huh,” Statorius nodded. “I thought that’s why you liked it.” He winked at his last statement and Artorius could not help but laugh.

“Well, let’s just say my tastes have refined over the years,” he clarified. “I have far better vintage at my house than they will ever have at the taverns. If you’d care to join me, you can find out for yourself.”

“Why not?” Statorius mused. “After all, I live but a few blocks from you.”

Artorius had forgotten that Statorius had purchased a nice villa of his own. He had married soon after his promotion to Centurion. His wife was the daughter of a flax merchant, though he figured her father’s business must have done very well, for the villa Statorius lived in was almost as large and ornate as the one he and Diana lived in.

“And how is the family?” Artorius asked as they walked down the road towards the main gate. His mind had been so jumbled as of late that he could not even remember his former squad leader’s wife’s name or how many children he had! It shamed him and he hoped Statorius would not notice.

“They are well,” his fellow Centurion replied. “With Julia expecting again, we are hoping for a boy this time.”

It was then that Artorius remembered that his friend had two daughters.

“And what of the Lady Diana?”

“Well enough,” Artorius replied, “though I think she tires of having to constantly entertain the wives of traveling nobles and wealthy businessmen. Even though she married a lowly Centurion, she is still of the Proculeius line, and therefore, still of great influence. Honestly, I think she wields more power than even the wife of our esteemed Legate! Thankfully she conducts most of this away from our house.”

They walked in silence for some time. The sky was red as they
headed out the gate, the legionaries on duty snapping to attention and saluting the Centurions. It was another mile to Artorius’ villa and though each man owned a horse they usually chose to walk each day. It seemed Diana took his horse out far more often than he did.

“Let’s take the long way,” Statorius suggested, pointing to a dirt path that ran parallel to the river.

Artorius shrugged. “Got something on your mind?” he asked.

“Yes,” Statorius replied simply as the sounds of the bustling city grew quiet.
“I know you have always spent long days working at the Century.”

“Longer than I would like,” Artorius replied. “Believe me, I hate devoting my entire life to
paperwork, especially the tedious crap. I figure it’s because my organizational skills are not the best. I really need to delegate more to the Principal Officers.”

“They’re all good men,” Statorius acknowledged. “Three of you were all in the same squad at one time.” He referred to when he had been the Decanus, with Artorius, Magnus, and Praxus, all serving under him as legionaries.

“That
feels like a lifetime ago!” Artorius said. “It was the only time I was ever in a line squad that was at full strength. It was you, me, Magnus, Praxus, Gavius, Valens…” He stopped and wiped his forehead, which was suddenly damp with sweat.

“Carbo and Decimus,” Statorius finished
quietly for him.

They continued to walk in silence for the next few minutes.

“It is about them you wish to talk to me,” Artorius said. It was a statement, rather than a question.

“Not just them,” Statorius answered. “But as I was close to them
, as well…” It was his turn to find that he could not speak.

“Thirteen years,” Artorius observed
after a short silence. “Thirteen years I knew them. They were more than just my legionaries; they were my friends. They truly were
brothers
to me.”

“Have you allowed yourself time to mourn for them, and for the others?” Statorius asked.

“We’ve done the call to the fallen, in case you forgot,” Artorius replied, not liking where the conversation was headed.

“That’s not what I asked you. I asked if
you
have allowed yourself time to mourn. My Century did not suffer nearly as badly as yours did, but I still lost men. No one saw me for days, not even my wife, after we returned. I had to give myself time to mourn them, lest it tear me up inside. I’m sure that being around your Century reminds you of that…”

“Look
, Statorius,” Artorius snapped, turning to face him. “I do
not
deliberately avoid my men!”

“Not intentionally, perhaps,” Statorius replied, matching his gaze. He then followed up with a difficult question; one that he knew would grate at his old friend and former protégé. “How many men do you have battle ready?”

“As of this morning, twenty-eight fit for duty. The rest come back here and there as the hospital releases them.”

“And how many will come back?” Statorius was being persistent, though Artorius did not begrudge him for it.

“Perhaps another twenty,” he replied. “The rest will most likely never fight again. After what happened to my father in Pannonia, I hate the idea of good men being forced out of the legions. But if they are unable to fight, they can’t be legionaries.”

“Sadly, no society has ever done right by its broken heroes,” his fellow Centurion replied somberly.

“I won’t lie to you, Statorius. The lack of fighting soldiers in my Century does serve as a stark reminder for me. Thirteen of my men never came home, and of the ones who did, as many as half will never march with us again!” His anger was rising, though it was not directed towards his friend.

Statorius simply nodded and let him continue.

“I mean, what the hell?” Artorius ranted. “We fought the most savage battle of our time and nobody fucking cares! I don’t think the Roman army has ever lost as many as we did in a battle that was won; and yet when it was all over we’re told to go home, that it was all one big fucking mistake!
My men died for nothing!”
His entire body trembled as rage and sorrow overtook him. He now understood why Statorius had suggested they take the long road home, and why he had deliberately avoided going through the center of town. Artorius’ face was red. He looked away and shook his head.

“No triumphs for us,” he continued. “No accolades of a job well done. Instead, we have been the subject of a shame that is not ours.
”

Apronius sat brooding over the same stigma that haunted his men. So many had fallen; his Chief Tribune was dead, two of his First Cohort
Centurions were badly wounded. Proculus’ injuries were so extensive that he would most likely never fight again. A message had just arrived, and his face turned red with rage as he read it.

“Message from Rome,” Master
Centurion Calvinus stated, rather than asked.

“Those
fucking
bastards!” Apronius snarled through clenched teeth. “They’ve completely disavowed our actions in Frisia. The Senate seems content to allow what happened to be simply forgotten. Hell, most people in Rome have no idea where Frisia is. Its tribute was minimal, so I doubt they will miss it very much.” His voice was thick with venom. His fist closed around the scroll, crumpling it and then throwing it across the room.