He knew that she was of the Proculeas family, of which Centurion Proculus’ family was related in some way. He also knew that Diana’s little sister, Claudia, was betrothed to his good friend, Pontius Pilate. Outside of that there was not much else to know. Artorius did not know Diana’s age, but surmised that she was older than him. What was puzzling then was that she was unwed; for Roman women, especially those from influential houses, almost never stayed unwed into their twenties. At least her little sister was betrothed, yet Artorius heard nothing regarding Diana. He wondered if there was a family secret; a scandal perhaps, that kept her single. He then laughed out loud at the notion of a lowly legionary taking advantage of the situation. Such a story would make for a great theater production, though that realization just emphasized the fantasy nature of what he was thinking. The theater dealt in dramatizations and exaggerations, not on reality.
“Well if nothing else, perhaps she’ll let me take advantage of that gorgeous body of hers,” he mused aloud. This was a far more plausible scenario, at least in his mind. Diana was indeed a striking woman with beautiful features and an extremely fit body that looked like it had not been ravaged by torments of childbirth. As he thought about what he would like to do to that body, Artorius suddenly became uncomfortable in the saddle of his mount.
“I am speechless, Caesar,” Sejanus said as he stared in awe at the statue. Tiberius had taken his confidant to the Theater of Pompey to show him prior to the official unveiling the statue that he had erected in Sejanus honor.
“You are the partner in my labors,” Tiberius explained, “and I think the people of Rome need to have that made clear to them.” The Theater of Pompey was the largest in the known world where thousands of patrons flocked to witness the spectacle that is the stage. That the Emperor would place a statue of the Praetorian Prefect in such a public place was a loud statement indeed. But Tiberius wasn’t done yet bestowing honors upon his favorite.
“Yours is the highest rank that one of the Equestrian Class can ever hope to attain,” he stated. Sejanus nodded in reply.
“Yes, and it is one I hope I have done honor to,” he replied with mock humbleness. Deep inside Sejanus resented the fact that his mere birth kept him from attaining a higher office. His ambition knew no bounds and his determination was relentless. Secretly he dared to think that he could someday sit where Tiberius sat. And unwittingly the Emperor himself was slowly removing the obstacles in his way.
“You have done more than honor the post,” Tiberius said. “You have been my right hand when all others have failed me. Therefore I feel it is only right that we elevate your position further. How would feel about being awarded the Praetorship?”
“I would be honored, Caesar. However, there isn’t much precedent for one of my birth to hold such a lofty position.”
“That is true,” Tiberius conceded. “And no doubt there will be grumblings within the senate. But when I make it clear to them that my wish is for the partner of my labors to be elevated to this position, no doubt they will fold.”
As the two men continued to walk around the amphitheater, Sejanus could not believe his good fortune. In the time of the Republic the Praetor was a man of enormous responsibility; tasked with relieving the judicial burden on the Consuls, as well as given the authority to field an army in dire emergencies when both Consuls were already in the field. After the rise of the Emperors, Augustus had changed the duties to those of an imperial administrator and advisor, rather than a magistrate. His power was still immense, with much focus placed on judicial matters. Twelve Praetors had served under Augustus, with Tiberius increasing the number to fifteen. Sejanus would become the sixteenth and most powerful, even though he would be the only non-senator in its ranks.
At length the estate came into view. Farm fields dotted the region around the manner house. At the bottom of the gradual slope Artorius rode up to a grove of trees running perpendicular to the road. He guided his horse over to an apple tree and dismounted. He then plucked a pair of ripe red apples, giving one to the horse before remounting. He finished his own as he rode through the gates of the manor house. A twenty foot wall surrounded it, with all vegetation cut back from the outside of the wall. The only exception was a massive oak with several branches that hung over the wall on the west side. He speculated that some of the branches might support the weight of a man, if he was sure of balance.
He dismounted and handed the reins to a servant. He then removed the parcel and letters and walked slowly towards the door, taking in the sights of the estate grounds the whole time. Much had been renovated since Proculus had taken over. The manor had belonged to a wealthy Gaul, and while elaborate, Proculus sought to wipe the Gallic influence away and “Romanize” the estate. Indigenous religious shrines and relics were replaced with statues of the Roman pantheon. On either side of the large double-doors were life-size statues of Mars and Diana. Artorius grinned at the coincidence of Diana Procula having a statue of her namesake outside her front door. As if he was expected, the doors were opened from the inside, a small and balding servant pushing his way through.
“How may we be of service, noble Decanus?” he asked with a short bow.
“I bring parcels and letters from Centurion Proculus to the Lady Diana,” Artorius replied.
“Of course, Sir,” the servant said with a nod of his head. Artorius followed him
A large, elaborate trough for small plants ran along the wall to the left. It was here that Artorius first laid eyes on Lady Diana since that day in the Lugdunum market. Her back was to him, but still he gasped. Instead of the more feminine stola she wore a short tunic top that was open partway down the back. Though she looked soft to the touch, her back was defined with well-developed muscle. He was not aware that he was standing with his mouth wide open as the servant approached her.
“Yes, what is it Proximo?” she asked. It was the first time Artorius had heard her voice and it enraptured him. There was nothing special about it; it was after all just a woman’s voice. He knew his infatuation was getting the best of him and they had not even spoken to each other yet!
“A courier from your cousin, the Noble Proculus,” Proximo replied, his hands folded in front of him. Diana nodded curtly and continued working on the small plant she was pruning. Proximo then turned to address the Decanus. “My apologies, but I did not catch Sir’s name.”
“Sergeant Artorius of the Third Cohort’s Second Century.” It sounded lame, even to him. He had hoped to sound impressive, though he now felt foolish; as if a noble woman would be impressed by the rank of a mere plebian. Diana placed down her small sheers and spun around on her stool to apprise the soldier her cousin had sent. She cocked her head to one side, a slight smile forming.