In a surprise move, Artorius also abstained from the pankration tournament, preferring instead to train and mentor soldiers within his Century who wished to compete. Legionary Felix Spurius was one of these men. He became a mainstay at the gymnasium, and pankration became his passion. He would finish third in the tournament, behind Optio Castor of the First Century. Both men would be bested by Camillus, the tournament winner. Many were shocked to watch the mild-mannered Signifier manhandle his opponents like they were bags of straw. Spurius gave Camillus the most trouble, though even he was forced to submit when the Signifier sunk a deep choke hold on him from his own back. Castor would fall much quicker in the final match, with Camillus knocking him to the ground and then landing a series of unanswered punches which forced a stoppage of the contest.
The legionaries appreciated both styles of competition. Close-combat with gladius and shield would always be popular, seeing as how it was their mainstay and unique from the vulgar displays in gladiatorial matches. They also grew to love the purity of the pankration contests as well. Men would compete with each other in both forms of combat, often-times one man besting the other at one form, but falling short with the other. Proculus and the Centurions took note of this. Though bruises and other minor injuries were moderately increased, the sense of competition was good for the men’s morale, and also kept their individual fighting skills well-honed.
Time passed as it did for the soldiers of the Third Cohort. Lugdunum had indeed proven to be quite the respite for them. They had lived comfortably in the embrace of civilization, away from the hard life of the frontier. While Proculus and the Centurions had enforced rigid training regimes to keep the men fit and busy, the sense of leisure could not be overlooked. Artorius spent much of his time at the gymnasium, which ironically was just a few blocks down from their flats and the Temple of Bacchus. There he continued to pursue his quest for physical perfection, driven by the desire for a godlike physique and power that would shame Hercules. He was always joined by Magnus as well as Centurion Vitruvius, two men who shared the same passion. In time, they grew in size and strength. All three were already fearsome to gaze upon, yet now they looked even harder, to the point that the idealized statues of the gods paled in comparison to them. His other passion, the perfection of pankration, had increased his fighting prowess far more than he had figured initially. He was more limber and agile because of his training, and in weapons drill he had become even more dangerous, much to the dismay of those who hoped to one day take the title of Legion Champion from him. It seemed ironic that even after Magnus won the Cohort Champion tournament that he had yet to face his Decanus. There would come a time for them to face each other, but not yet.
Proculus stuffed the sealed letter underneath the cord that bound the parcel together. Nothing would have pleased him more than to take the package to the estate himself; however there was a banquet with the provisional governor that he was required to attend. He let out a sigh and walked out into the foyer, the parcel tucked under his arm. The modified Principia was always a bustle of activity. He glanced around and saw Macro talking to one of his Decanii. The young man looked familiar to Proculus and then he remembered; it was Sergeant Artorius, who had been decorated for valor during the battle against the Turani in the mountains outside of Augusta Raurica. Better still; Proculus remembered that he was also able to ride a horse.
“Macro!” he shouted as he walked up to the men who immediately ceased in their conversation. Artorius took a respectful step backwards and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
“What have you got there?” the junior Centurion asked.
“A parcel and some letters that I need delivered to my estate in the country. I need someone who can ride a horse to deliver them for me.”
“I see,” Macro replied, guessing at his Cohort Commander’s intent. He folded his arms and looked over his shoulder at the Decanus. “Artorius, you can ride can’t you?”
“I can, Sir,” he replied with a grin. Macro of course knew the answer.
“Here’s your man,” Macro said, facing Proculus once more. The senior Centurion stuffed the parcel into Artorius’ arms.
“Excellent! Go down to the stables and requisition yourself a horse. I’ll send an order to the Master of Horse to let him know that you will be doing this for me quite often and will require your own mount.” Relieved, Proculus immediately turned and walked back to his office. He still had to prepare for the function that evening and his wife had not even arrived yet.
“Looks like you just got yourself an additional duty,” Macro stated once Proculus had left.
“Hmm, well I would like to get out of the city every once in a while and see a bit of the country,” Artorius replied. Macro grinned and snorted.
“Are we seeking to employ another slave army?” Radek asked as he and Heracles walked away from the slave pens on Four Corners Road, their faces covered by their hoods.
“In a manner of speaking,” his Greek master replied. “We will be more…subtle in our approach this time. An entire army of slaves would be too difficult to control. Besides, I told you we would not be facing the legions head-on this time.” Radek allowed himself a wicked grin.
“One of our men has been keeping an eye on the legionary and urban cohorts for some time,” Heracles continued. “In peace they have fallen into a pattern of predictability. I now know exactly what times they conduct shift changes; indeed there is a long period of time where the area around the slave market is devoid of any type of protection at all.” Soon they arrived back the flat that Heracles had procured. Waiting for them was one of the freed slaves, a rather meek and unassuming fellow. In spite of this Heracles had at last found a use for the man.
The slave was older and going bald with a boyish face that looked like it never required a shave. But Heracles sought to exploit his services, not his looks.
“I have a task for you,” he stated.
“Yes Master,” the slave replied, hands folded in front of him and eyes on the floor.
Chapter VII: Lady Diana
It was over forty miles from Lugdunum to the Proculus estate. Artorius had tried getting Macro to allow one of his legionaries to accompany him, but the Centurion had rejected the notion. Horses were in short supply as it was, and the Master of Horse only begrudgingly allowed the Decanus to take one of his prized mounts as his own. So while he would not have the company of one of his friends to break the monotony, Artorius had a vivid enough imagination and appreciation for the natural countryside to keep his mind occupied.
Artorius was indeed glad to be away from the city for a couple days and found he appreciated the solitude. The open country appealed to him greatly, plus he knew who it was he would have to see on these trips. He grinned at the thought. The last time he had laid eyes on Lady Diana Procula had been in the Lugdunum forum the year previously. Given that he had been so distracted staring at her that he had walked head-first into a pillar was but a minor detail. He still did not know if she had witnessed his folly or not, and if so did she remember? His mind wandered as his thoughts turned to the focal point of his infatuation. He tried to sort out in his mind what he knew about Diana from what he hoped to find out.