Besides Drusus’ widow Livilla, Livia’s only remaining grandchild was Livilla and Germanicus’ brother; that fool Claudius. Livia only remembered the young man as an afterthought. She snorted at the thought of the wretch. Had he been born in a different age, he would have been exposed at birth and left to perish before he could become an embarrassment to his family. His club foot caused him to limp, his head twitched, and his speech impediment made Livia wish she could cut out his tongue. He appeared to be terrified by her, stuttering and twitching like he was having an epileptic fit. Livia then cocked her head to one side as she further pondered her remaining grandson. She remembered passing by the gardens one night, not long before Drusus’ death, and overheard him talking to the Imperial Prince. She had paid it no mind at the time, but she now recalled Claudius lecturing Drusus in depth on his duties as the son of the Emperor. He had spoken articulately, with no trace of a stutter. She had not stopped to watch, so she was uncertain if his head still twitched or not. She suspected that it had not, at least not like she had seen it.
A smile then crossed her face. Claudius was no fool; everyone who took him for a fool was! All these years he had been playing them; performing a far better play than the finest actors in the theater. Oh there was no doubt that his afflictions were real; but Livia now realized that his stutter and twitching were deliberately exaggerated. While the whole of the Empire viewed him as the harmless fool, he watched and learned. Livia then gave a short laugh. Her grandson might prove useful after all.
Tiberius was now sixty-four years old, and though still in excellent health he could not deny the passage of time. Therefore a few days later he addressed the Senate once more. He had implored the Consuls to bring before him the sons of Germanicus. Many hoped that this would allay their worst suspicions regarding the imperial succession. Many nobles lived in fear of the Praetorian Prefect, Sejanus, and were terrified that the Emperor would defy Roman law by naming him his successor. Sejanus had even gone so far as to have agents plant such thoughts in the minds of the senators to stoke the fires of rumor. With Tiberius’ grandson being but a child, the Senate now saw hope in that the Emperor would turn to the sons of Germanicus.
The Consuls entered the chamber, each guiding Germanicus’ sons Nero and Drusus to where Tiberius sat. Absent was their brother, Gaius Caligula, still little more than a child himself. Now seventeen and sixteen years of age respectively, the lads were ready to take their place in the Roman world. Surely the Emperor would see the qualities of their father despite his hatred for their mother! Taking each by the hand he addressed the assembly:
“Senators, when these boys lost their father, I committed them to their uncle, and begged him, though he had children of his own, to cherish and rear them as his own offspring, and train them for himself and for posterity. Drusus is now lost to us, and I turn my prayers to you, and before heaven and your country I adjure you to receive into your care and guidance the great-grandsons of Augustus, descendants of a most noble ancestry. So fulfill your duty and mine. To you, Nero and Drusus, these senators are as fathers. Such is your birth that your prosperity and adversity must alike affect the State.”2
In a rare showing of solidarity with their Emperor, the Senate broke into an ovation fraught with much emotion. Tears of joy and relief came to many an eye. It was as if a nightmare would soon be over. The sons of Germanicus would restore dignity to the Julio-Claudians. Some Senators even dared to hope that perhaps they would even go so far as to restore Republican rule to the Empire once Tiberius was gone.
A week following his return to Cologne, Artorius was helping Rufio sort through letters and dispatches while waiting for a group of recruits to arrive at the Century headquarters. He had been feeling better as of late. Magnus had been right. Though he would never forget Diana, he could now allow his memories to be fond ones, rather than those that gave him the pain of loss. He had assimilated well into his post as Optio, as Macro had told him he would. Competition in sports, like his new-found passion of Pankration, as well as his continued violating of any young beauty that felt up to the challenge, kept him conditioned and eased the fire that burned inside him.
Legionary Felix was still on light duty and was assigned as his aid for the week. The young man looked to be much recovered from his terrible wound. Color had returned to his face, though he had lost a lot of weight; a far cry from when he had been an overweight recruit three years before.
“I’ve got the post for you sir,” the legionary said as he set a satchel on the table. “I already sorted out all of the personal mail by section. This is mostly official stuff for the Centurion, though there’s a couple of letters addressed to you.”
“Excellent, thank you,” Artorius replied, walking over with a slight limp still.
“How’s the leg, sir?” Felix asked. Artorius shrugged his shoulders and opened the satchel.
“It hurts, but what can you do? How about your little scratch?”
“Getting better, slowly but surely.” Felix lifted his tunic to show the Optio. The scar left behind was hideous, but the wound was mostly healed. “I’ve been working my stomach muscles more and should be returning to full duty within the next couple weeks.”
“And how is Lady Tierney?” Artorius asked, bringing a grin to the legionary. Though she may not have been a Gallic noblewoman any more, most of the men still addressed her as such as a sign of respect.
“Well enough, sir,” Felix replied, replacing his tunic. “She shares a house with Svetlana, which Mad Olaf purchased as a wedding present for his granddaughter.” Artorius furrowed his brow in contemplation.
“Valens isn’t anywhere near becoming a Centurion, so how exactly is it a wedding present?”
“Well Rome may not recognize it, but Valens and Svetlana did marry in a Nordic ceremony a couple weeks before you returned. It may not be legal by Roman law, but even Sergeant Magnus seemed to approve. Such practices are really not that uncommon when you think about it, sir.” Artorius frowned and nodded, for it was true. He did find it strange that Roman law forbade soldiers beneath the rank of Centurion from marrying, and yet they also encouraged such common-law ‘marriages.’ After all, it readily helped provide the next generation of legionaries; for the son of a soldier was more likely to follow his father into the ranks than the son of a non-soldier. A good number of men within the legion had come from such unions between legionaries and local women. Valens had been sired this way, so his union with Svetlana probably felt natural to him. The marriage of his own parents had not been legalized until his father’s retirement, when Valens was twenty and already a legionary himself.
Artorius felt himself grinning at the thought of Valens married as he sorted through the letters. One was addressed to him from Pontius Pilate. It read:
Hail Artorius, old friend and comrade in arms!
I do apologize for not having written sooner. It seems like I lost all track of time while I was away. I’ve just now returned from a brief administrative tour in Syria with Legio XII, Fulminata. Seems they were having a spot of problems over there, so Sejanus attached me to them for the last year. He said something about how it might do me some good to get a feel for the eastern provinces. Well I can certainly say I got a feel for it, alright! Justus Longinus accompanied me to Syria; he sends his regards, by the way. His liaison tour was over and he had to return to his post with Legio VI, Ferrata. I have to say that being in the east, even for such a short time was a real eye-opener for me. The people over there are quite strange, and the climate is constantly hot. Even so, I would not mind making a return to the east some day; for all its oddities, it is quite the exotic and exciting place.