Soldier of Rome: The Sacrovir Revolt (The Artorian Chronicles) (6 page)

“If you simply banish Piso, Agrippina and her followers will come at you, personally, in full-force. The trial will be starting soon, and there is only one real way in which it can end.”

Tiberius’ face hardened.
“I have no issue with dispensing justice upon the guilty, even if they are old friends. What I will not tolerate is some spoiled bitch telling
me
how to run this Empire simply because she is the granddaughter of Augustus! Why could she have not been like her sister?” Tiberius was referring to his former wife, Vipsania, who he still adored, even after being divorced from her for many years. Tiberius turned back to the window. “From the sounds of the mob, you would think they already have the butcher’s hooks under his chin,” Sejanus replied, coolly. He was referring to the barbaric practice of handing the executed bodies of condemned criminals over to the mob.

In the case of those who had committed treason or other heinous crimes, the mob would drag the corpse
through the streets by butcher’s meat hooks. The body would then be desecrated and thrown into the Tiber River. No burial would be allowed, and families of the condemned scarcely ever tried to retrieve the bodies, out of fear of being beaten and savaged by the mob.

Tiberius
had witnessed such spectacles on more than one occasion. He grimaced at the thought of such being Piso’s pending fate. “Very well,” he said at last. “We will allow the trial to follow its course. In the end, Piso will pay the price for his crimes. And Agrippina had better tread lightly in my presence thereafter.”

Artorius felt the sweat bead up on his neck as he eyed the new recruits. There were eight altogether. He did not realize they we
re that far under strength. He wondered why none had come to his section, but then realized that Macro was, in fact, doing him a favor by leaving him under strength, since his men were all veterans. It gave Artorius a chance to adapt to his position before having to deal with having recruits in his own section. It was not so much the task of training recruits that made him nervous; it was the fact that his centurion, along with Centurion Vitruvius, was watching him. At first he kept thinking to himself, ‘
how would Vitruvius do this?’
He shook his head and dismissed the notion. He came to realize that Vitruvius was no longer the chief weapons instructor, he was. Slowly he walked down the line of new men, eyeing each one for potential strengths and weaknesses. Most looked average in build, though two were slightly overweight, and one was rail thin. The overweight recruits he wasn’t concerned about. Physical training would strip the baby fat off of them. Getting the skinny recruit to put on enough weight would be a challenge. After a quick walk down the line, he turned and faced the men, aware of the extra sets of eyes on his back.

“Recruits,” he began
, “my name is Sergeant Artorius, Chief Weapons Instructor for the Second Century. Today you will start to learn the basic fundamentals of close-combat drill. First off, each of you will grab a practice gladius and shield from the cart.”

As they retrieved their practice weapons, Artorius saw looks of surprise on most of their faces at the weight of each. One of the overweight recruits grunted as he tried to heft the gladius and shield.

“How the hell are we supposed to use these in battle?” the recruit complained. “These bloody things weigh a ton!”

Before the young man could blink, Artorius was standing nose-to-nose with him.
“What in the fuck did you say, recruit?”
he shouted, his relaxed demeanor gone in a flash.
“I didn’t realize I had given you permission to speak!”

The recruit trembled as he saw Ar
torius clench and unclench his fists, his enormous forearm muscles pulsing. Artorius possessed such sheer size and muscle mass that he outweighed even the heaviest recruits by at least thirty pounds. This only added to his intimidating presence.

“I was just pointing out how heavy these practices weapons are…”

Before the recruit could finish, Artorius butted him in the face with the short brim on his helmet. He then put his face next to the man’s ear. “You listen to me real hard,
recruit.
You open your mouth and complain like a little bitch on my drill field again, and I will tear your balls off and stuff them down your throat! Are we clear?”

“Yes
, sergeant,” the recruit gulped.

Artorius started to turn away, but then spun around and slammed the back of his fist into the recruit’s stomach, just below the ribcage. The young man gasped and fell to his knees, his breath taken from him.

“Get up,” Artorius growled into the recruit’s ear.

As the man struggled to his feet, gasping and coughing, Artorius immediately became nonchalant again, his relaxed demeanor returning. He then went about demonstrating the proper use of the gladius and shield. After having shown them the proper stance and how to punch with their shields, he had them practice with the six-foot stakes that were set into the
drill field. Once satisfied, he then showed them how to properly use the gladius as a stabbing weapon.

For the next hour he had them drill on the training stakes. He remembered back to his first day on the stakes.
He had been trembling badly, exhaustion overcoming him, when Centurion Macro had motivated him to keep going with a serious of blows from his vine stick. Artorius could see the recruits facing similar dilemmas as fatigue gripped them. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Centurion Macro pacing back and forth behind the recruits, waiting for one to drop his weapon or try and rest before Artorius told them to cease. One poor recruit missed the stake completely with a stab and stumbled forward, falling face first onto the ground. As he struggled to his feet, Macro lunged at him and brought his vine stick down hard on the recruit’s helmet, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“You clumsy jackal!”
he roared.

As the
centurion chastised and kicked the hapless recruit, Artorius noticed one of the others had stopped attacking his stake and was, instead, watching and laughing at the ordeal. Artorius walked up behind him silently and cuffed him hard across the ear. The recruit gave a yelp of surprise and pain and was terrified when he saw the sergeant glaring at him. He immediately went back to drilling with his shield and gladius without Artorius uttering a word.

When he felt they had pushed themselves hard enough, Artorius gave the order for them to rest. All were drenched in sweat and leaning on their practice shields. One of the overweight recruits was dry heaving and trying to keep from vomiting.

“You throw up on my drill field and you will be cleaning it up with your tongue,” Artorius asserted.

The young man looked up at the
decanus, his face pale and clammy. He swallowed hard and stood upright, breathing deeply.

Artorius was surprised
to see the skinny recruit held up well, comparatively. He was soaked in sweat and completely exhausted, however he had neither stumbled nor given up at any point. Artorius then told them to take off their helmets and have a seat on the grass.

He stood facing them, his hands behind his back.

“Recruits,” he began, “today you have taken the first steps towards learning how to fight as legionaries. What I did not tell you earlier is the practice gladius and shield are, in fact, twice as heavy as service weapons.” He saw a look of relief cross the faces of several of the young men. Artorius smirked at that. He then noticed that Optio Flaccus had arrived to take the recruits to their next phase of training for the day.

“By drilling with these practice weapons, you will be able to handle your service weapons more easily,” he continued. “As you progress through your training, your bodies will become stronger, your muscles more conditioned. Remember what you learned today, and we will expound upon it tomorrow. That is all.” As he turned to walk away, he heard one of the recruits address him.

“Excuse me, sergeant?”

Artorius turned to see it was the recruit he had chastised earlier for complaining about the weight of the practice weapons. The young man was standing rigid, his hands clasped behind his back.

“What is it?” Artorius asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“I…I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. It was unbecoming, and I assure you it will not happen again.”

“What is your name, recruit?”

“Felix Spurius,
sergeant,” he replied. “I’m the bastard son of a magistrate of Ravenna. I’m here to prove my worth to my father, as well as to myself.”

“You can prove yourself by becoming stronger in the mind, as well as the body,” Artorius replied. “Each drives the other. A strong mind will carry the body beyond its limits, thereby making it stronger. Learn your lessons well, and you’ll be alright.”

“Thank you, sergeant,” the recruit replied.

Artorius wa
ved for him to go join his fellow recruits, who were getting briefed by Optio Flaccus.

After he dismissed the recruit, Artorius
walked over to where Centurions Macro and Vitruvius had been watching. He had completely forgotten they were even there. Both men had their arms folded, but did not look displeased.

“Not bad,” Vitruvius remarked with a smile.

“Well done,” Macro added. “When you finish stowing your training gear, I need you to come to the century office. We need to discuss your own training regime for the Legion Champion Tournament.”

“Yes
, sir,” he replied with a nod.

Vitruvius winked at him as both
centurions walked away. Artorius took a deep breath and blew out hard. He was genuinely surprised the training had gone as well as it had. The physical chastising was to be expected when recruits were raw and undeveloped. He again thought back to when he was in their place. The extreme conditioning had been a wakeup call for him, given that his entire physical training regime up to that point consisted of gaining size and power. Artorius still possessed an extreme amount of muscle size and was considered by many to be the most physically powerful soldier in the entire legion. However, he had supplemented his training with extreme amounts of conditioning. In truth, he knew stamina was far more important for a legionary than raw power.  Still, he worked hard to maintain his size and strength as a matter of personal pride.

He walked into the
centurion’s office and sat down across from Macro, who was leaning back in his chair, his feet up on his desk.

“I take it you have given some thought to how you are going to prepare for the Legion Champion
Tournament?” Macro asked.

Artorius shook his head at that.

“To tell you the truth, sir, I’ve been totally focused on preparing for weapons training with the recruits, not to mention the day-to-day running of my section.”

Macro frowned slightly and nodded.
“Well, I can understand you being quite busy,” he replied, “especially since you are new to both duties. You do know, however, every legionary who fancies himself as a master of close combat is looking to beat you.” “So I’ve been told,” Artorius retorted, dryly.

“The thing is,” Macro continued, “these men all know your talents. They will push themselves to be at their best in order to beat you. I know you haven
’t been sparring as regularly as you would like, and we need to fix that. Your duties as chief weapons instructor are paramount and cannot be changed. However, you can delegate your tasks as decanus to one of your more competent legionaries. Anyone you might have in mind?”

“Magnus would be the most logical choice,” Artorius replied.

Macro cracked a partial smirk. “You’re not just saying that because he is your friend, I hope.”

Artorius was taken aback by that.
“Sir, I hope you think better of me than that!” he said indignantly. “Believe me, our friendship is irrelevant. Magnus has the respect of the entire section; they listen to him and follow his lead without question.”

Macro raised a hand for Artorius to cease.
“At ease, sergeant, I understand. I wasn’t accusing you of showing favoritism. I just want to make certain it is avoided in this century. Very well, I’m going to elevate Magnus to
immune
status. Appoint him as acting section leader until the tournament is over. When you are not conducting weapons drill with the recruits or preparing lesson plans, I want you focusing on your own preparations for the tournament. I thought to ask Vitruvius to come back to be your sparring partner, however, that would be in poor taste, given that he has his own representative to prepare. If you wish to use members of your section as sparring partners, by all means do so. I’ll get Statorius to lay off hammering your guys too much on the duty roster. However, do not allow them to use that as an excuse to be lazy. If they are getting out of fatigue details, they need to be sparring with you, understood?”