A tear came to Artorius’ eye as he listened to the wailing of the mourners around Camilla’s pyre. It was not a tear for himself; rather he was moved by pity. Camilla had few friends and had died very much alone. At least that jackal of an ex-husband had had the decency to hire professional mourners, even if he himself did not bother to show up. He had even allowed little Marcia to attend. Artorius surmised that perhaps Marcellus felt a tinge of remorse for the way he had treated Camilla. Marcia had been taken from her mother at a very young age and would have no memory of her, except the image of her body laid out on a pyre, ready to be sent to the afterlife. Still there was an air of sadness around the child. Artorius was not one for children; he had little patience when dealing with them. Still, he could not help but be taken by this little girl. He felt almost a sense of paternal affection towards her, perhaps out of pity for her having no mother and a father who was less than a man.
The dirges nearly complete, Artorius walked up to the pyre, which was doused in oil. The stench made him gag. He steeled himself as he walked up to Camilla’s body. He ran the back of his hand across her cheek and kissed her gently on the lips. His memories of her would be of the girl he had spent his childhood with, who had also been his first love; if children can comprehend such meanings. He had long since let go of whatever attachments he had had, though there was always that trace of regret. No, it was best that he remembered her for the love of his youth rather than the love who abandoned him once they were grown. He wondered if in fact they were meant to be together, and the Fates had punished her for abandoning their plan. He shuddered at the thought, knowing that they could be utterly cruel. For Camilla’s sake he hoped they were satisfied, for surely she had suffered enough.
He turned to see Camilla’s maidservant escorting Marcia away; not wishing for the child to have to watch the pyre burn. Not caring to see this himself, Artorius walked after them. He never looked back.
“Wait!” he said once they were clear of the scene and alone in a small side street. The two turned to face him, the servant keeping her hands protectively on the girl’s shoulders. Without thinking, Artorius fumbled through his hip pouch and pulled out the silver medallion that Camilla had given him all those years ago. He knelt before the child and held it up to her.
“Your mother gave this to me a long time ago,” he said in a consoling voice. “I want you to have it.” Marcia palmed the medallion while the cord was still clutched in Artorius’ hands. She gave a sad smile and looked him in the eye. Though she may have only been three, there was a deep sense of understanding in those eyes; she was fully aware of what had happened and was not so naïve as one would expect of a babe. Artorius smiled back, his heart breaking for her. In that moment he felt something totally alien to him; he wished that Marcia had been his daughter. He took a deep breath and composed himself. The little girl bowed her head as he hung the medallion around her neck.
“Wear this always, in remembrance of her,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And know that she always loved you.” He then stood and nodded to the servant, who responded with a sad smile of her own and escorted Marcia away; the child’s eyes fixed on the medallion and its image of the goddess Diana.
A firm hand on his shoulder startled Artorius. He turned to see Magnus standing next to him, his eyes wet and reddened.
“Why do you cry?” Artorius asked his friend. Magnus cocked his head to the side before answering.
“Do you not know?” he replied. “You have so much to learn, old friend. Artorius, you are as much a brother to me as any of my own blood. I know your sorrow for Camilla, and your regret that life was not more kind to her; but you will not show it. You think it would be a sign of weakness; so I grieve for you.” Artorius gave a weak smile and nodded in understanding.
“I regret not making a more conscious effort to keep her,” Artorius spoke in a low voice. “She was closer to me than any when we were young. Camilla and I were closest in age, so it was natural that we would bond. Of course as we grew older, to the age where the opposite sex becomes of greater interest than just as friends, it only seemed natural that we would fall for each other. But then I let my lust for revenge consume me. The closer I came to the age of maturity, the more I longed to join the army and avenge my brother, and the less I focused on she who had always been there for me.
“When I left for the legions, I knew she would not wait for me. Had I made the slightest effort to keep her with me, things may have turned out differently. She was the youngest of her sisters and of no value politically to her family. I could have taken her with me, Magnus.” He took a deep breath and swallowed hard before continuing. “You know, I have never once given a second thought to having children, as hard as that may be to believe. I have no patience with them. But when I saw Camilla’s daughter today it made me sad with regret. I know this sounds stupid, but I saw today what should have been; I was supposed to have a daughter. That child should have been mine, Magnus.” The Norseman placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Sadly we cannot undo the past,” Magnus remarked. “And whether she was supposed to be or not, that child is not your daughter. If the Fates have any mercy, perhaps Camilla has finally found peace in the next life. Come, let us leave this place.” They turned to go back from whence they came, only to see the smoke of the burning pyre in the distance.
“We’ll take another way,” Magnus said, echoing Artorius’ thoughts.
Chapter V: Mad Olaf
Artorius and Magnus walked in silence along the road. Their furlough would be over within a week and they would have to catch the boat back to Lugdunum. A fresh spring breeze blew gently, the branches of trees dancing in their wake. Artorius felt hollow inside, though he was glad for the sense of closure. A chapter of his life was now closed forever; a chapter that he did not even know had still been open. He had done all he could to make things right by Camilla at the end, he just wondered if his lingering sense of regret would ever leave him. He then kicked a small rock off the paving stones as they strolled on. As they approached a large shade tree, he caught sight of the large figure of a man astride a great horse.
“Magnus you whore’s tit!” the man roared. Artorius was taken aback as his friend burst out laughing.
“Who the hell is that?” Artorius asked. Magnus shook his head, still chuckling.
“Grandfather!” he shouted and ran towards the man who was now laughing as well. The man Artorius surmised could only be Mad Olaf jumped from his mount and embraced his grandson hard. He then gave Magnus a hard cuff across the head while still laughing.
“You bloody twat!” Olaf bellowed; Artorius wondering if he was meaning to shout or if he always talked in such a loud voice. “You make your poor grandfather search all over the damn Empire trying to find you! I came down to Cologne to visit you and they tell me you are stationed in Lugdunum of all places for the next couple years. Well no sooner do I get there than I hear that you are all the way back in bloody Rome on leave! I had just come from there! I swear if I had gotten all the way here and found out you had left to go back to bloody Gaul I would have smashed your testicles in by the time I found you! As it is…” with that he cuffed Magnus hard across the head once more. His grandson laughed loudly as he punched Olaf as hard as he could, knocking the old madman to the ground.
“Ah I knew you had at least some fight in you,” Olaf said as he struggled to his feet. “Too bad you hit like a bloody girl! Your sister hits harder than you. Oh well, come here and give your grandfather a hug!” With that he dove at Magnus, slamming his shoulder into his stomach and taking his legs out from under him. Magnus was tackled to the ground, his wind knocked out of him. Still he managed to cuff Olaf across the ear and bucked him off.