“No,” Pilate replied, “I don’t have to do anything. You’ve been so much more than simply she who would bear my children. Whenever I have needed a voice of sanity and reason in this mad place, you have always been there with it. I would rather spend the rest of my life with you than find a woman who is no better than a breeder slave.” It was not perhaps the best choice of words; however, they sufficed.
Claudia wiped her tears away and kissed her husband affectionately. “I am still sorry that I cannot give you any children,” she said after a short silence. “I was looking forward to becoming a mother.”
“Perhaps having your sister with us will help ease your troubles,” Pilate replied.
“Rebekkah suggested I pray about it,” Claudia said as she slowly paced across the room.
This caused her husband to roll his eyes. “Seriously, prayer is that woman’s answer to everything.”
“Not at all,” Claudia said. “She is surprisingly well-educated and only turns to her understanding of the divine when all other methods fail her.”
Rebekkah was a Jewish woman who Claudia befriended not long after their arrival in the province. An only child who lived with her widowed mother, she’d never married despite being exceedingly attractive. That she could read, write, and had a knack for both mathematics and architecture intimidated many of the local men who would prefer a spinster or one who was only interested in bearing them sons. Rebekkah had further told Claudia that Judean men preferred submissive, docile types who would never question them.
“Well, though I did not agree with you hiring her as a personal attendant when we could have purchased another slave for less long-term cost, I confess she has been as faithful a companion as you could hope for.”
“That she has,” Claudia observed with a smile. “I think Diana will adore her.”
“Tell me,” Pilate stated as he sat behind his desk once more, “When she asks you to pray, which deities does she suggest you should pray to?” It was clearly a baited question.
“Whichever ones suit me,” Claudia shrugged. “You need not fear, my love. Rebekkah does not seek to convert me to her faith.”
“That is good,” Pilate asserted. “The last thing I need to explain to Sejanus or the emperor is my own wife accepting Judaism. They may allow the Jews to be monotheistic, but no Roman.”
“Again, you need not worry,” Claudia reassured. “Rebekkah is my friend, and she understands the harm any attempts at conversion could cause. Though true to her own faith, she is actually quite fascinated by our vast pantheon.”
Pilate decided not to press his wife any further. It was enough that she had received the devastating news that she could never have children, combined with the equally elating news that her sister would be joining them soon in Judea. Whatever deities her Jewish friend prayed to were the least of Pontius Pilate’s worries at the moment.
Chapter V: New Horizons
“Sergeant Felix reporting, sir,” the decanus said with a salute.
“Stand easy,” Artorius replied, returning the courtesy. In the weeks between sending his reply to Pontius Pilate and when it actually reached him, he was assembling the volunteers from the western legions. The logistics alone of moving these men and all their personal baggage was arduous, hence his need for reliable subordinate leaders. The orders from Rome simply directed him to assemble his men and head for Judea, it did not say how or what resources were available to him.
The centurion took a seat behind his desk and apprised the young man who stood before him. Artorius admired him greatly. Felix had been a severely overweight recruit that he had been particularly harsh to during his initial training a number of years before. He’d come close to breaking many times, yet he persevered and had served honorably ever since. The soldier had been through much during his time in the ranks; at one point suffering such a grievous abdominal wound during a raid that few thought he would live. He not only survived, but continued to excel as a legionary. Artorius had spontaneously promoted him to decanus during a lull in the Battle of Braduhenna, after two of his squad leaders had been killed. Felix was not only an able soldier, but a steadfast leader.
“I see you added your name to the list of potential volunteers for our expedition to Judea,” the centurion noted, reviewing the list of names. In truth, almost all of his men had put their names on the list, and he regretted that he’d only be able to take a handful with him.
“Yes, sir,” Felix replied confidently.
“You’ve been in the ranks for almost ten years now,” Artorius continued. “You’ve served in two major campaigns, both times singled out for valor. I would be honored to have you with me in Judea, but not as a decanus.” He waited a few seconds as Felix looked crestfallen before sliding a scroll across the table.
The young soldier’s eyes grew wide as he opened and read it. “Sir, I don’t know what to say.”
“We’ll take care of the particulars once I get the other officer billets sorted out,” Artorius replied with a grin. He then stood and clasped Felix’s hand. “Congratulations, tesserarius.”
“Thank you, sir,” Felix said, saluting once more. “I must let Tierney know at once!” His face was beaming as he left. His common-law wife was a former Gallic noblewoman. Tierney’s father had disowned her after blaming her for the death of her sister during a raid in which Felix had attempted to save her. It was during this skirmish that he’d received his fearful wound, and it was Tierney who helped nurse him back to health. Though Roman law would not recognize the marriage until Felix was either promoted to centurion or retired from the ranks, they still lived very happily together and had three children.
It was late when Artorius left the office and started the mile walk to his manor house in the city. Diana usually had his horse, and he preferred to walk. It was a cool spring evening, and the smell on the wind told him that a storm was coming. He wrapped his cloak around him as he walked out the gate where he was joined by his friend, Optio Gaius Praxus.
“Artorius!” Praxus shouted as he hurried to catch up with him. “I heard you’re taking Felix to Judea as your tesserarius.”
“You heard correct,” the centurion replied, continuing to walk with his cloak wrapped tightly around him. “I’m starting to think the dry heat would be a nice change of pace from here.”
Praxus did not notice the scroll clutched in his friend’s hand. “So…any thought on who is going to be your optio?”
“Valens,” Artorius replied without hesitation.
Praxus immediately grabbed him by the shoulder, and the two turned to face each other.
“What the hell, man? I’m not good enough to take to Judea?”
“I never said you weren’t coming. I said you’re not coming as my optio. I was going to surprise you with this, but since you’re so damn persistent.” Artorius sighed and shook his head. He then shoved the scroll into Praxus’ chest. He paused while allowing his friend to read the order. “You’ve been my subordinate for too long, when you were once a peer and a mentor. It is time you took that position once more. Macro is rather sentimental towards his old comrades from the Second Century, so convincing him to endorse your promotion came with little effort. The legate signed it this morning.”
Praxus grinned from ear to ear as he read the scroll. “I’ll still be your subordinate, since no doubt they will have to promote you to centurion pilus prior,” he observed.
“The difference in our rank is only a formality at this point,” Artorius responded as they started to walk once more. “You’ve been overdue for the centurionate for some time. I was surprised that Magnus got the position in the Fourth Cohort over you. His awarding of the Civic Crown won that for him.”