At least he doesn’t know, Sejanus thought to himself.
Artorius was looking forward to seeing Magnus’ family. He had only briefly met his oldest brother, Oleg, and that was right after Camilla’s death when he wasn’t in the best frame of mind. He had never met Magnus’ father, Svend, or his other brother, Hansi, who served as an oarsman in the Roman Navy.
Svend had done well for himself as the owner of a textile mill that Oleg now ran for him. His house, though not quite as large as the patrician villas that dotted the Esquiline Hill, was still quite spacious. As Artorius and Diana approached the large, ornate door, it was hastily thrown open from inside, and a number of servants spilled out, as if running in terror.
“They’ve gone mad!” one shouted as a loud crash echoed from within. Diana stood with her mouth open and Artorius with an eyebrow cocked, as what looked like two men wrestling, fell over a table in the atrium. The larger of the two, whom they suspected to be Magnus, was picked up and carried quickly out the door. The man carrying the Norseman stumbled, and they both fell into the fish pond with a loud splash. This did not stop either of them, as both threw fists and knees at each other while the fish scattered and servants cowered. Finally the one man stood and tried to kick Magnus in the side.
“Eighty-eight years old and I can still boot your sissy backside!”
“Who is that?” Diana asked in a low whisper, gripping her husband’s arm.
Artorius let out a soft chuckle.
“I forget, you’ve never met Mad Olaf,” he replied. The old Nordic warlord and former Auxilia Centurion splashed around as he turned to see who had mentioned his name.
“Ah, if it isn’t young Artorius!” he shouted with a laugh, pulling himself out of the pond. Magnus sat up and spewed a mouthful of water out before letting out a sigh.
“And good to see you too, Olaf,” Artorius replied as he was embraced by the dripping older man in a hard bear hug. “Still mad as ever, I see.”
“Aye, and still able to thrash my weakling grandsons!” Olaf responded with a boisterous laugh. He then noticed Diana for the first time, her eyes wide and not sure if she should laugh or be scared of the old Norseman who had upended Magnus into the pond.
“And who have we here, then?” Olaf asked, his naturally bellowing voice softening considerably, his eyes gave the lady a quick once over.
“Olaf, may I present my wife, the Lady Diana,” Artorius replied as Diana gave a short curtsey.
“Of course,” Olaf said, nodding enthusiastically, “of the Proculeius house! My lady, you are even more beautiful than I had heard.” He placed his hand over his heart and gave a deep bow of respect.
Diana marveled at how such a gruff, surly man could all of the sudden show the softest demeanor and manners towards women.
“If you two are done breaking everything in my house and garden!” a voice called from the entranceway.
Artorius looked over to see a man he could only assume was Magnus’ father. He was taller than Olaf, though like his sons he was clean shaven and his blonde hair kept shorter. He also wore a Roman toga, while Olaf was dressed in Nordic breaches and a vest.
“City living has made you soft, son!” Olaf said with a dismissive wave. “You’re lucky young Magnus here chose a masculine career in the legions, even if his decrepit grandfather can still toss him around like a sack of moldy potatoes!” Svend let out a sigh as he followed his father into the house, where Olaf shouted that he needed some fresh clothes and a towel.
“I didn’t know Olaf was here,” Artorius replied, trying to stifle a laugh at the sight of his friend.
“Neither did I,” Magnus admitted as he removed his water-soaked sandals. “I only showed up just before you did. Turns out Grandfather is headed to Arabia to see what all the fuss is about their horses. He was set to leave yesterday, but decided to stay long enough to give me a ‘warm welcome,’ as he put it.”
Both men turned to see Diana leaning against the doorway, hand over her mouth, her breathing ragged, laughing uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, trying to compose herself. “It’s just the look on your face…” Her own face was now red as she burst into laughter once more and collapsed on the step.
Magnus was a sight to behold, his mop of blonde hair frayed in every direction, with his head band matted to his forehead. His left cheek was turning purple and his lip was cut. His eyes had a slightly glassy look as he flopped down beside her and began laughing himself.
That night Artorius found he could not sleep, despite the fact that the bed in one of Pilate’s many guestrooms was very comfortable. He lay on his back, staring into the blackness. Diana’s inside leg was intertwined with his, which usually made him feel comforted and relaxed by her presence. Despite all that, he was edgy and could not shut his brain down. He understood why Pilate needed to talk about anything other than Judea, and it was, indeed, almost the tenth anniversary of the Battle of Idistaviso. Doubtless there would be some type of celebration within the city. Two cohorts of the Praetorian Guard had taken part in the battle, and he was certain they would take the opportunity to be paraded through Rome like heroes once more.
Slowly he eased his leg out from underneath Diana’s. He gave her a gentle caress on the shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. She let out a whimper but was immediately back to sleep. He bumped into an end table and cursed under his breath, hoping he would not wake his wife up. He stepped out onto the balcony as a warm breeze blew in off the Tiber. He both loved and hated nights like this, where memories of the past kept him from sleep. He climbed up onto the wide marble railing and looked out across the expanse of the city below. Rome never slept, especially since night was the only time traffic was allowed to move within the Eternal City. During the daytime, only pedestrians and litters were allowed on the streets, so it was after the sun set that the true bustle of the city began.
He looked up to the sky. It was a clear night, and the stars shone brightly. He closed his eyes and wondered if his brother and his mother were up there somewhere. He wasn’t sure what he believed in, theologically. The Roman Pantheon seemed too perverse, even by his standards. The deities Romans worshipped struck him as an orgy of grandeur whose purpose was to make men feel like they were more important in the divine scheme of things than they really were. Perhaps the Jews were right to shun all that in favor of a single god. It certainly kept things simple, having to only account for the eccentricities of a single divinity!
Regardless of who or what may have created the universe, Artorius still had a long suppressed fascination with the afterlife. He knew there had to be one; after all, he had seen his brother seven years after his death. It was absurd to acknowledge such a thing, but Metellus’ face was still burned into his mind as clearly as the day he saw him just after the triumphal parade of Germanicus. The two had even conversed briefly before his brother faded and left him. To this day, Artorius had yet to tell anyone about what he had seen, not even his beloved wife. He did not believe in keeping secrets from Diana, and he longed to tell her. He just could never find the words nor the appropriate time and place. Would she think he was mad? Perhaps, but then again maybe he was. It was mid May, still a couple months shy of the tenth anniversary of Idistaviso, yet it was nine years that very month since the Triumph of Germanicus and the divine vision of his brother.
He felt the presence of a set of eyes watching him, and he was unsurprised to see Diana leaning against the rail next to him.
“Can’t sleep again,” she stated rather than asked.
He nodded as he stepped down from the rail. He was completely naked, as was normal. Diana had on a loose fitting robe that was undone in the front. He never tired of looking at her, perfect as she was in supple grace and fit beauty. The light from the stars showed just enough of her firm breasts and well defined stomach. Though his conscience mourned their inability to have children, his inner lustful mind was glad that her body had never suffered the ravages of childbirth. It was a welcome sight, and he reached out to her.