“I’d let her hurt me,” Valens thought aloud. Just then Macro rode up and dismounted his horse. He stuck out his hand, which Artorius took.
“I am sorry to not be coming with you, Sir,” Artorius said. Macro snorted at that.
“No you’re not,” he replied. “You’ve got a rather comfortable billet for the next few weeks. I suggest you make the most of it, because I intend to put you back to work where you belong once you get back. It’s a funny thing really. Proculus was the one who insisted that you stay here to convalesce, even though Felix is coming back with us.” As if on cue, a covered cart rolled by. The young legionary lay in the back fast asleep, young Tierney lying next to him, her arm around his chest. Artorius smiled, even if it was a sad one.
“Don’t know what I am supposed to make of that,” Artorius said with a slight frown as he turned back to his Centurion.
“Make whatever you wish of it,” Macro replied. “In all seriousness, you earned the right to take some time off, Artorius. You have not asked for a single day’s furlough in the eight years you have been with us, and this will do you good. I had to force you to take leave the last time…” he stopped himself as he saw Artorius wince. Macro immediately regretted his words, remembering the young Decanus’ emotionally painful tenure when he went home. “I am sorry; I did not mean to bring up any bad memories. Still, it’s all the more reason for you to make the most of your time here.” Artorius gave a sad smile and nodded.
“I have acquired a horse for you to ride back on, to be deducted from your pay of course,” Macro continued with a grin. “You’ve got four weeks to begin your journey back to Cologne. I want to see you as soon as you arrive. Take care of yourself.” As soon as he mounted his horse, Macro donned his helmet and saluted his Sergeant in a sign of respect. Artorius returned the salute and his Centurion took his place at the head of the formation.
“Cohort!” Proculus shouted.
“Century!” all of the Centurions sounded off.
“Forward…march!”
Artorius stayed where he was, watching the Third Cohort begin its march. As the Third Century passed by, Vitruvius leaned down from his horse and clasped his hand. No words needed to be said. Vitruvius just smiled and winked at his former protégé. Artorius did not move until the last ranks of the Cohort were out of sight. It was then that he noticed his leg was in pain once again. Even with the crutch, it hurt to stand on for any length of time. He hobbled over to the house, where servants helped him into bed. He was left restless and uneasy. He did not like being away from his friends like this. But then he heard the words of his Centurion echoing in his mind. A slight grin crossed his face as he decided he would in fact make the most of his furlough.
“Now, the first thing you need to do is assume a good fighting stance.” Artorius could not believe he was doing this, though he figured by teaching Diana how to fight with a gladius, he could keep his own skills as an instructor at least partially sharp. He had acquired a pair of training gladii, and had had a training stake made out by the orchard. Padding had been added to the stake as well, so that it could be effectively used for punching. Artorius figured Diana would never wield a legionary shield, however he knew that by teaching her to punch with her left hand, she would be more than able to fend off just about any adversary. Diana stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, her right leg back slightly.
“Good,” Artorius observed. “Now you want to keep your weapon close to your side, with your arm bent and the point facing forward. Remember, the gladius is primarily a stabbing weapon. We rarely slash with it, though if kept sharp; it can cleave through arms and legs readily enough.”
He then walked Diana through the rudimentary basics of fighting with the gladius. He had her keep her left hand up by her head, her elbow in. She learned how to effectively punch with her left hand, and to follow it up with a rapid stab with her weapon. Artorius was very much impressed. Years of horseback riding had given Diana superior leg strength and balance. She proved agile and quick in her strikes. Like he did with his recruits, he made her stand and strike her target again and again, testing her conditioning. He was surprised at how long she managed to last initially. Granted she did not have the strength or stamina of a fully trained legionary, however she did last longer than many recruits; more than enough to impress him.
By the time he told her to rest, her arms were shaking, her legs wobbly. Her hair was unkempt and sweat ran down her forehead. Indeed her entire body was drenched in sweat. She placed her hands on her knees, and found she was gasping for air. Artorius was partially aroused by the sight. He noticed that her left hand was red and battered, though Diana did not complain.
Finally, a woman with some stamina and fortitude, he thought to himself.
“That’s enough for today,” he said aloud.
The next days were more of the same. Diana’s body felt like it was about to collapse from exhaustion by the end of it, yet still she refused to quit. Artorius demanded more from her physically than she had ever been asked to give in her entire life. She had only been training for a week, and already was becoming quicker with the gladius, with her conditioning improving as well. She had only been training for a week, and already was becoming quicker with the gladius, with her conditioning improving as well.
At the end of an afternoon session Diana elected to take a walk through the grove to try and cool her body down. Soon she felt dizzy again, and she found herself leaning against a tree, vomiting uncontrollably. Artorius had just started to walk back towards the main house, when he heard Diana’s physical distress. He smiled to himself and shook his head. Using his crutch, he walked over to where he could see her leaning against a tree, her body shaking.
“Are you alright?” he asked, walking up to her. Diana raised her hand for him to stop, and then began gagging once again.
“I’ll be fine,” she finally replied, taking deep breaths. Artorius walked up and ran his hand up and down her back.
“There is no shame,” he told her. “Believe me; I’ve thrown up many a time from having overexerted myself. You have come quite a ways in such a short period of time.”
“Not good enough to fight against any of you though,” she replied as she leaned her head against the tree.
“Well no,” he remarked as he continued to gently rub her back. “But then again, who can? I am not teaching you how to fight against legionaries; I’m teaching you…well to be honest I’m not entirely certain what I’m teaching you to fight against.”
“I guess I just wanted to learn something new,” Diana thought aloud as she stood upright, removing his hand from her back and quickly stepping away from him. “Thank you. I’m alright now.”
As he sat under the shade of a tree by the river, Artorius struggled with feelings of awkwardness, given his latest interaction with Diana. By showing the slightest sign of physical affection towards her, he knew he had overstepped his bounds. She was a hard one to gauge. Though she had been very kind to him, there was still a barrier that existed between them. But of course this was probably unavoidable. After all, she was of the Patrician class, he a mere plebian soldier. Hell, he wasn’t even a Centurion; at least then he could show that he was advancing himself well enough along to be worthy of her. He then wondered if he misread Proculus’ intentions all along, that perhaps this was simply convalescence and nothing more. Diana had quite extensive knowledge when it came to medicines and treating injuries. It stood to reason that she took care for him and not risk reopening the wound on his leg by traveling too soon.
He tossed a stone into the water and gazed at the ripples. He then thought too about how neither ever referred to the other by their given names. She mostly called him by his rank, and he had always addressed her as “My Lady.” It was only proper of course. He then saw her walking along the path towards him, though he pretended not to notice.