“Possibly,” Praxus said. “It has been eleven years, though.”
“Eleven years,” Diana interjected. “You were here during the Sacrovir Revolt?”
Artorius grinned knowingly as he pulled an apple out of his saddlebag for his horse. “Somewhere around here.”
“My lady, you heard about the nine who were awarded the Florian Crest?” Praxus asked.
Artorius just smiled as Diana looked at his friend dumbstruck. He had never told her about how his squad prevented the rebel leader, Julius Florus, from escaping to start a new insurrection elsewhere within the Empire. It had been but one part of a much larger saga that had unfolded so quickly the entire rebellion was over before most of Rome knew it had begun.
“Of course I’ve heard about them,” Diana replied. “The death of Florus crippled the rebellion before it could spread and allowed the legions to smash the main rebel army at Augustodunum.”
“Well, you’re looking at two of them,” Magnus stated as he remounted his horse.
Diana looked over at her husband. He simply smiled and shrugged, allowing his friends to tell the story for him.
“Yes,” the Norseman continued. “We were in the same squad back then; with Artorius as our decanus. Our cohort, along with the cavalry regiment that would later be named Indus’ Horse, had routed the rebel army under Florus that was moving to reinforce Sacrovir.”
“I was also a decanus then,” Praxus said. “Though we all fought on the same battle line, it was Artorius’ squad that Macro sent after that corpulent Gaul once he was spotted.”
“Silly bastard was wearing an ornate breastplate and helmet that gleamed in the sun,” Magnus added. “It made him easy to spot when he was trying to escape through the trees! We pursued him, and I don’t doubt we would have caught his fat ass, although the arrival of Commander Indus and two of his men expedited things. Bloody coward killed himself or at least tried to.”
“He threw himself on his sword,” Artorius explained. “Only he didn’t do it right and ran the weapon through his bowels instead of his heart. It was Magnus who finished him.” He nodded towards his friend as he finished explaining to Diana. “It wasn’t until after the fighting was over and Sacrovir hunted down that we were formally recognized. To be honest, I had almost forgotten about the entire ordeal, what with the cohort having to double-time back to Augustodunum to take part in the final battle. In fact, it was months later that the nine of us who took down Florus were awarded the Florian Crest.”
“And what happened to the others?” Diana asked.
“Commander Indus achieved much glory and renown,” Artorius began. “His regiment was named in his honor by Tiberius. He continued to serve as a regimental commander under Tribune Cursor through the Frisian Rebellion. I never knew the names of his two troopers, though.”
“Legionary Gavius is still with the Twentieth Legion in our former century,” Magnus added. “Though he joined the army at the same time as me and Artorius, we kind of just grew apart over the years. It happens. And, of course, you know about Valens.” The mention of their ever-deviant friend who was now serving as Artorius’ optio brought a chuckle from everyone as they continued their ride. They were somber for a minute.
“The other two…” Artorius started to say and found he could not continue.
“Are no longer with us,” Praxus finished for him.
“Carbo and Decimus were both killed at Braduhenna,” Magnus quickly added.
“I remember them,” Diana added sadly. “I used to sometimes see Carbo on gate guard when I would visit the fortress. He always made me turn my weapon in before he’d let me through.”
Artorius taught Diana how to fight like a legionary and had a gladius made for her soon after they were together. Wherever she went, Diana almost always carried her weapon beneath the folds of her stola. With her current attire of a Gallic tunic and riding breaches, her gladius was clearly visible, strapped to her hip.
“It was Decimus who claimed Florus’ polished helmet with its magnificent plume,” Magnus reminisced. “I’ll never forget the entire march back to Augustodunum everyone could see it sticking out of his pack.”
“He always said if anything happened to him he wanted it to go to Carbo,” Artorius added. “Fate, however, decided that they should die together.”
“What do you do with a legionary’s personal effects when he passes?” Diana asked.
The turn of the conversation contrasted sharply with the sunny day and the pleasant sounds of the flowing creek, as well as the birds chirping in the woods.
“Every legionary has part of his wages deposited into a burial fund,” Artorius explained. “If he is killed, this is used to cover the cost of any memorials built and is sometimes given to either his known family or someone he designated. The same is done with any personal effects. One of the more hateful tasks of a centurion is going through a dead soldier’s possessions with his decanus. It was particularly difficult when Decimus and Carbo died, as both had been my friends since I joined the ranks. Valens had been battlefield promoted and was their squad leader for barely a day. He took it especially hard, as the three of them had always been close. Carbo had no children, so all of his belongings went to his sister in Lutetia. And though neither could legally marry because of their rank, Decimus did have a daughter named Decima, who I think was around eleven at the time. His only other surviving relative was a distant nephew whom he had never met, so we made certain Decima received everything he owned.”
“Except for Florus’ helmet,” Magnus added.
“The legate was pretty adamant that it go to the Legion Museum with all the other war trophies from previous campaigns,” Praxes said. “It, along with Florus’ armor are still on display there.”
They rode in silence for some time and Artorius sensed that Diana regretted broaching such an emotional topic. He brought his horse alongside hers, reached over, and took her hand in his. He gave it a reassuring squeeze and caressed it gently with his thumb as she looked over and smiled at him. They came up a steep rise to an open meadow. To their right they could hear the sounds of the river, on the left was a more sparsely wooded slope. About five hundred meters ahead, the dirt road and the ground sloped down once more. In the distance they could just make out the bend in the road that curved right around a grove of trees.
“This is it,” Artorius said quietly. “Wait here.” He rode at a fast gallop across the meadow and down the far slope. The others watched as he reached the bend in the road, about a mile away.
“What’s he doing?” Diana asked.
“I think I know,” Magnus replied.
They all dismounted their horses and started to walk through the glade.
“This does look familiar,” Praxus added, glancing around, “Though the grass was mostly flattened, as five-thousand men had camped here. Not many meadows in these parts are large enough for so many to bivouac.”
After a few minutes they saw Artorius riding back, a look of triumph on his face. “I found it!” he said, which garnered knowing nods from his friends
“What did you find, love?” Diana asked.
“Something of the greatest insignificance,” he replied. “A rag tied to a tree just around the bend. The day prior to the assault, Macro and a group of squad leaders did a leader’s recon of the enemy camp. Once it was determined that the only viable avenue of approach was straight up the road, we left a rag tied to a tree near the bend, and another a couple miles further back. This signaled where we were to stage the cohort.”
“I’m amazed the rag is still there,” Praxus said.
Artorius shrugged. “It’s a rag,” he replied. “This road is not well traveled, and those that do come through here are not going to pay mind to a rotted piece of cloth tied to a tree.”
“You said there were five thousand rebels in this camp,” Diana noted. “Yet you attacked them with just the Third Cohort? That was madness!”