“I agree,” he said quietly. He then took a deep breath through his nose before continuing. “Sergeant Artorius, your daring and valor have saved the lives of Roman citizens and salvaged their property. Moreover, I am personally indebted to you for having saved a member of my own family. Under normal circumstances, your actions would have earned you the Civic Crown.” Artorius’ eyes widened at the very mention of Rome’s highest award for valor, which was given to those who saved the life of a fellow citizen. His thoughts turned quickly to pending disappointment when he saw the downcast look on his Cohort Commander’s face.
“Unfortunately,” Proculus continued, “since there were no male citizens involved in the rescue, the Civic Crown cannot be awarded. Believe me Sergeant; it pains me to not be able to recommend you for this award. I received your recommendation for Legionary Decimus to receive the Rampart Crown, for having been the first over the wall of an enemy held position. Unfortunately, the Commanding General does not deem that this house met the description of an enemy stronghold, even under the circumstances. A pity really, since I have never heard of anyone being awarded the Rampart Crown four times!
“The best I can recommend is the Silver Torque for Valor for you and the men who conducted the assault with you. That I know I can get approved. I do want you to understand however, that you have my personal gratitude, and that full details of your actions will be annotated in the official reports.” With that, Proculus rose and extended his hand. With much pain and effort, Artorius rose and clasped it with his own. It was only the second time he had ever shaken hands with a Cohort Commander.
“Thank you Sir,” he replied. He then saluted.
“Dismissed, Sergeant,” Proculus replied as he returned the salute. Artorius turned and limped out of the room. Macro stayed.
“That is a brave young man, albeit a bit reckless,” Proculus remarked as he took his seat.
“I think of it as daring,” Macro answered. “His actions may seem like those of a madman at times, but believe me; Sergeant Artorius never makes a decision without thinking it through. He is one of the best I have for thinking on his feet.”
“Your Optio, Flaccus is retiring soon, isn’t he?” Proculus asked, changing the subject. Macro nodded.
“As soon as we get back, as a matter of fact. And I think I may have found his successor.”
“Well I hope you train him fast, because I dare say your time in your current position is growing short,” Proculus replied.
“What do you mean?” Macro asked, obviously confused. Proculus produced a set of documents.
“Your Sergeant’s actions are not the only ones who got noticed,” he answered. “Centurion Macro, I have been ordered to advise you that you have been selected for promotion to the First Cohort, as soon as a vacancy comes open.” He passed a scroll over to Macro, whose eyes lit up as he read the contents.
For conspicuous valor, sound judgment, superior tactical savvy, and leadership proficiency, Centurion Platorius Macro is hereby selected for promotion to Centurion Primus Ordo. Let it be known that Centurion Macro has been selected for promotion well ahead of his peers, thereby bypassing the rank of Centurion Pilus Prior, as a testament to his performance, valor, and fidelity. This promotion will take effect immediately upon a position within the First Cohort becoming vacant.
Signed,
Gaius Silius, Legate
Commanding General
Macro could only shake his head, astonished as he was.
“Oh come off it man, quit being so damn modest!” Proculus chided.
“Just do me a favor and don’t ever call me Sir, ok?” Macro laughed. “I have worked for you for too many years to ever feel comfortable with that.”
“Hey, you haven’t been promoted yet! Gods know how long it may take for someone to retire from the First. Besides, I received a similar letter myself. There’s an order of merit list that has the names of several top-rated Centurions who have been selected for membership within the First. You and I are at the top of that list.
“For now, I propose a toast.” With that he clapped his hands, and in walked a servant bearing a tray with two goblets and a pitcher of wine. When both glasses were filled, Proculus raised his.
“To my old friend and former pupil, Platorius Macro, Centurion Primus Ordo select.”
A day after the arrival of the Cohort, Kiana’s father and sister rode to the estate. They had yet to find out the fate of their beloved, and both looked hopeful as they sought out Centurion Proculus. The Roman knew they were coming and he dreaded their meeting.
“Ah, noble Centurion!” the Gaul spoke as he rushed up to where Proculus stood in the main foyer. He then looked around, puzzled. “I take it you have found my daughter?”
“We found her,” Proculus replied, clasping his hands behind his back, a dark frown creasing his face. The Gallic noble’s face dropped any sense of joy at hearing the news.
“Surely you have not imprisoned her!” he said emphatically. “She is but a child; a child who was manipulated by thugs and could not have done any real harm!”
“She is not imprisoned,” the Centurion stated, briefly looking over at Tierney. The young woman caught his meaning and she quietly covered her mouth with her hand while closing her eyes tightly and stifling a low moan.
“Well then why is she not here to greet me?” the Gaul persisted. Proculus sighed and started to walk down a side hall.
“Follow me.” Without bothering to see if his other daughter was behind him, the Gallic noble quickly fell in behind the Centurion. They came to a room with no door that led to a small, enclosed garden. A legionary stood on either side of the entrance and they snapped to attention as their Cohort Commander approached. Proculus pointed into the garden, remaining in the hall as Tierney and her father entered quickly.
They stopped just inside as they caught sight of Kiana. Her body lay uncovered on top of a dais. Her neck was wrapped, although she still wore the blood-soaked gown that she had died in. Her hands were folded across her stomach, her eyes shut.
“My sweet little girl, what have they done to you?” her father despaired as he fell to his knees in front of her. Quietly he ran his hand across her forehead and kissed her on the cheek. Tierney walked up and grasped one of Kiana’s now cold hands. Her father turned to her and in a fit of rage slapped her hand away.
“Don’t you dare touch her; you are the one who led her to this!” he snapped. Tierney backed away, frightened by her father’s sudden burst of anger. His eyes were no longer cast in sadness, but fury. One of the legionaries moved as if to enter the room, only to be stayed by Proculus’ hand. He would not allow the situation to become violent; however until it did he was not going to interfere.
“Father, please, I tried…” Tierney’s words were cut short by her father’s next outburst, his hand pointing at her accusingly.
“Do not call me Father!” he shouted. “I charged you with taking care of your little sister and this is what I get?” He raised his hand to strike, only to be distracted by the sound of Proculus and the legionaries entering the room. All three men gripped the pommels of their gladii and the Centurion slowly shook his head. The Gaul lowered his hand before addressing Tierney once more.
“I have no daughter!” he spat. “I disown you, vile harlot. You are no child of mine!” With that he left the garden through an outside passage, avoiding further eye contact with either Tierney or the Roman soldiers.
“She redeemed herself in the end,” Proculus said quietly as Tierney turned to face him. She was in a complete state of shock and unable to speak. “She gave her life saving that of one of my men.”