“Evening, my lady,” one of the men said. He stepped into the torchlight and Diana recognized his face.
“Why good evening to you, Carbo,” she replied with a smile. “I didn’t think I’d see a familiar face on duty.”
The legionary gave a shrug. “Usually only happens about once a month. Between both legions there are plenty of men available for this sort of duty. This night just happened to by my turn. You looking for the Centurion?”
Diana nodded with a smile.
Though Carbo had been in the legions longer than Artorius and had been his friend for over eleven years, he almost never referred to him by his name. He then nodded his head towards the inside of the fortress. “He’s here; you know where to find him. I don’t think he left the Century office all day, which we all know makes him very irritable.”
Diana gave a short laugh and started to walk inside when the legionary blocked the way with his javelin.
“Sorry, my lady, but you know the rules.” Diana took a deep breath through her nose, as her face bore a guilty expression. She then sighed and pulled her cloak back, revealing her gladius.
The other legionary gasped at the sight. Ten thousand men may have been available for her protection, but Diana did not like taking any chances, nor did her husband. She was unusually strong for a woman, and Artorius had taught her to fight very effectively. She unstrapped the weapon and handed it to Carbo, who then handed it to the other legionary.
“Here, tag this,” he said to the man. “Mark it Lady Diana Procula…oh, and on the other side write Centurion Titus Artorius. That’ll keep anyone from fucking with it…beg your pardon, my lady. Forgive my loose tongue.”
Diana simply laughed and shook her head as she passed through the gate.
“Never thought I’d say this about a woman,” the other legionary said after returning from the guardhouse, “but our Lady Diana frightens me a bit.”
Even at night, Diana still knew her way through the fortress. Pairs of legionaries walked the streets on patrol, while the occasional off duty soldier wandered about. Diana found the Third Cohort’s Second Century easily enough and could see a faint glow coming from the Century’s office. It was empty and dark, though she could see light coming from the connecting Centurion’s office. She pushed open the door and walked into the room, which smelled of wine and sweaty bodies. She extinguished her lamp as the one in the room gave off a soft glow. The slave, Nathaniel, was curled up in the corner, fast asleep. It looked like someone had thrown a blanket over him. At the Centurion’s desk were three men. Optio Praxus sat with his hands in his lap somehow still balancing a goblet, chin on his chest, snoring loudly. Diana marveled that Praxus always bore a look of total contentment on his face that never went away. Rufio, the Signifier, was leaning back in his chair, making small gurgling sounds, mouth wide open, and a small stream of drool running out of the corner. And lying face first with his head resting on his hands was her husband, the immortal Centurion himself. There were three empty wine jugs on the floor, including the one Nathaniel had brought.
“Hmm, so one jug of our best vintage wasn’t enough,” Diana remarked with a slight grin. She walked over and gently shook Nathaniel awake. The slave was startled and bolted to his feet, making ready to string forth numerous apologies for something he figured he must have done.
“Shh,” Diana whispered, holding a finger to her lips. “Go home, Nathaniel. I will take care of the master.”
The slave started to protest, but immediately stayed silent. Though he felt bound to stay by his master no matter what, he dared not question the Lady Diana. She leaned over, resting one hand on the desk while gently rubbing Artorius’ back. It was the best way she knew to wake him without startling him. Even in his drunken subconscious he knew her touch and slowly sat upright. He gave a weak smile through half closed eyes, as she smiled in return and placed her arms around his waist, grunting with the effort of hoisting him up.
“Come on, Centurion,” she said quietly, half carrying him into the Centurion’s quarters. Since moving in with her, his bed was almost never used and the room had been little more than a place for him to store his military equipment. Still, the bed was neatly made, and Diana pulled the blankets back and laid him down. She struggled to get him out of his tunic, and then removing her own stola she lay down next to him, her arm draped across his chest, as she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.
Chapter IX: A Better Journey Home
The port of Ostia looked unchanged since the last time Artorius had been home. The docks were a bustle of activity, with ships coming and going, and dock workers feverishly loading and unloading cargo bound for various destinations. Yells and curses flowed in the background, with the occasional crack of a whip. The loaded and unloaded cargo seemed to be all mixed together and he could not fathom how anyone made sense of it all. Many of the crates looked identical, and he wondered how any could ever make it to their intended destinations. Diana stood with him on the rail of the ship, her hand clutching his.
Artorius was not the only Centurion to take this trip to Rome. Vitruvius had also been friends with Pontius Pilate and had received an invitation as well. His wife was seven months pregnant and regrettably unable to make the voyage. Artorius had stated that Vitruvius and Praxus had been “busy” at the same time, since Praxus’ lover was also expecting their child at around the same time. Indeed, the only other wife to join Lady Diana was Svetlana. It had come as a bit of a surprise to some that she and Valens had gotten an invitation. After all, Tribunes did not make pleasantries, let alone friendships, with lowly legionaries. But then, those who knew Valens’ history remembered that it was Pilate who had saved him from a terrible beating at the hands of the Emperor’s former sister-in-law, Agrippina, when Valens had been caught in bed with one of her maidservants many years previously. Svetlana, being as adventurous as her husband, found the story a source of amusement.
Other men of rank had been invited, though most had been forced to decline. In all, less than half of those invited from the Twentieth Legion would be able to come. Pilate would understand though; the life of the legions still continued, and somebody had to maintain order on the frontier.
“A pity that Macro and Statorius could not come,” Diana observed as she joined her husband on the rail of the ship. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply the fresh sea breeze.
“Politics and the life of the legions do that,” Artorius replied. “At least Proculus was able to get away.”
Diana turned towards him, her eyebrow cocked.
“He bloody well better have!” she replied forcefully. “He is my cousin, and with no wars to fight I cannot imagine anything so important on the frontier to keep him away from taking part in the wedding of one whom he practically raised!”
“Ah yes,” Artorius remembered, “his daughter Valeria is the same age as Claudia.”
Diana nodded and smiled as she thought back to when her sister was a little girl.
“They spent so much time together. Being ten years older, I did not spend as much time with them as I would have liked.”
As the ship docked, Artorius longed to feel land under his feet once more. He was a bit wobbly at first, never having handled sea travel well. Diana seemed to handle it better than he, and she quickly took him by the hand and helped steady him. As he stood for a moment regaining his legs, he felt Vitruvius smack him hard on the shoulder, catching his attention and nearly knocking him off his still unsteady legs.