“You’re telling us!” Magnus grunted. “A legionary cohort is never at full strength, and I think there were maybe four hundred and fifty of us, at most. However, we did have a cavalry regiment with us.”
“Indus’ Horse,” Artorius added. “They were with us, though they had yet to receive their honor from the emperor. They would earn it here. Many shared similar tribal ancestry as the rebels. In fact, Indus and Florus were both of the Treveri and possibly related. We were a touch worried about their loyalties, but they proved themselves both here and at Augustodunum.”
“We were still badly outnumbered,” Praxus remarked. “It all came down to shock and surprise. Most of the rebel army was skirmishing with Indus’ cavalry back down the slope we just rode up. When we stormed the camp there were only a handful of them loitering about. We then reformed and attacked the main rebel army, with the woods masking our numbers. For all they knew, we could have been an entire legion.”
“When it was over we counted roughly five hundred enemy dead,” Magnus remarked. “Most of Florus’ army was still intact and could have easily overwhelmed us. However, they panicked and ran. Most were never seen again. Bastards never even showed up for the final battle at Augustodunum!”
“And somewhere up there,” Artorius said to Diana while pointing up the slope on their left, “is where we caught Florus. After Magnus finished him with a nice slash to the jugular, Indus insisted on carrying him back for proper burial.”
“A rebel and a traitor he may have been,” Magnus observed, “but they were still kinsmen. The rest of the enemy dead we left to rot. If we look hard enough, we might find a trace here or there, but after eleven years I suspect even their bones have been consumed.”
At the end of their three-day furlough, Artorius and his men once more began their trek south to the sea. With the early spring upon them, the Alpes were still covered in snow and many of the roads would be impassable. As such, he led his men to the coastal city of Massilia, where he’d sent Optio Valens ahead to secure them passage to Ostia and to Rome.
Chapter VIII: Family Matters
The final leg of their journey from Massilia to Rome was uneventful enough. Valens had been true to his word about getting them passage on a ship, and aside from a few of the men getting seasick, including Artorius, they made it to Ostia without incident. As the ship rose and fell in the rolling surf, oarsmen suddenly reversed their rowing, slowing the ship as it jarred against the side of the long dock.
“Well, that’s that then,” Artorius said as he pulled himself up from the railing. His complexion was still terribly pale, and he swore he had not eaten the entire trip. “Two days at sea…I loathe to think what two weeks will be like!”
The piers were extremely long, running several hundred feet, in order to accommodate large vessels needing to dock in deeper waters. Artorius waited until his men had all disembarked and their baggage was carried onto the dock. It was a hatefully long process lasting more than an hour, and the ship continued to rise and fall. The centurion could not fathom how sailors appeared completely unaffected as they used large hoists with slings to unload large crates of various cargo.
Once the last legionary had disembarked, Diana took him by the arm and helped guide him down the long gangplank. He almost stumbled over the side, his equilibrium still unbalanced, and it was not the most dignified exit he could make, but there was nothing for it. It was late in the afternoon, and Artorius knew there was little left for them to accomplish other than finding quarters for the night.
“Praxus,” he said to his fellow centurion. “Have a messenger sent to the praetorian barracks. Find out where Centurion Cornelius has the other volunteers for the cohort billeted.”
“Right away,” Praxus replied. He seemed little worse for wear, having more of a stomach for the seas than most of their men.
“And where will you spend this evening?” Magnus asked, already knowing the answer.
“Home,” Artorius replied. “I sent a message to Father, letting him know I would be in Rome, though of course there was no way of telling him exactly when. It’s about ten miles from here, but I think a long walk will set me right.”
“I’ve sent Proximo on with instructions for storing our baggage and finding a place for the servants to lodge while we are here,” Diana added.
“At minimum, we will be here a week,” Artorius noted as they walked along the long pier, attempting to avoid the bustling crowds of sailors and dock workers unloading their wares. “It all depends on whether or not the other legionaries have arrived and if transportation arrangements made.”
Once on dry land, Artorius felt his former strength returning to him. He and Diana guided their horses as far as the outskirts of Ostia before mounting. Metellus joined them, at Artorius’ insistence. He had quite forgotten how much he loved springtime along the Mediterranean. The feel of the warm sun, and the pleasant breezes coming off the sea were a far cry from the wet, biting chill that permeated along the Rhine frontier.
They were glad to be out of the city before dusk, as that was when the true congestion struck. Within Rome, and to an extent Ostia, wheeled traffic was only permitted at night, given the dense pedestrian population. In essence, the cities never slept. All food and commercial wares consumed by the massive population of the empire’s capitol could only be transported in sufficient quantities at night.
Though it had been six years since he’d been home, Artorius still instinctively remembered the way. The once-dirt path that turned off towards the low hills where his family home lay was now widened with paving stones. There were other houses along the road, where once there had been nothing but open fields. About a mile from the end of their journey he noted, privately, the cottage that belonged to his stepmother, Juliana. It now appeared to be occupied. Years before, he had received word that his former love, Camilla, had died in that very house. Though he and Diana were very open about their respective pasts, Artorius decided there was no need to mention this detail to her.
At length they came to the modest country house where Artorius grew up. It seemed much smaller now than when he was a child. He could see lamplight glowing in the dining room that overlooked the front of the house. The door was opened, and a stooped old man stepped out, leaning on a long staff. For a moment, Artorius almost did not recognize his father, Primus Artorius Maximus. His hair was now completely gray, and he’d developed a noticeable stomach.
“Father!” Artorius said, trying to conceal his concern.
“By Juno!” Primus replied, his face beaming as he embraced his son. He then took Diana by the hand. “And my Lady Diana. You have grown more beautiful, daughter.” He kissed her hand at this remark. In the failing light, as the sun sank behind the hills, Primus did not yet notice the young man with them.
“Father,” Artorius said. “There is someone else I want you to meet.”
Primus’ smile vanished as Metellus stepped into the light coming from the house. His eyes grew wide, and he shook his head slowly. “It cannot be.”
“Your grandson,” Artorius stated. “Metellus Artorius Posthumous.”
“An honor to finally meet you, sir,” Metellus said awkwardly. His appearance was so similar to his biological father that, for Primus, it felt as if his late son was with them once more. With tears rolling down his cheeks, he dropped his walking stick, limped over to his grandson, and embraced him hard.
After a few moments, they were led into the house where they were greeted by Artorius’ stepmother, Juliana. Her hair had started to gray as well, though she still held much of the dignified beauty that had enraptured Artorius’ father all those years ago.
“At last our family is all together,” she said with a smile as she kissed Artorius, Diana, and Metellus each on the cheek.