“Oh, come on,” the Norseman said, looking around. “Everyone here is completely wasted; no one will even know I was here. Besides, we’re running out of alcohol in the kitchens, and the slaves won’t give us the keys to the cellar where I know all the good stuff is.”
“So?” Artorius questioned.
“So, either I find a key from someone or else the boys are going to use one of the tables as a battering ram on the cellar door. I would rather they didn’t, lest we mere plebeians wear out our welcome with the great Proculeius…no offence intended, my lady.”
“Mmm, none taken,” Diana replied, her eyes still closed and arms wrapped around Artorius’ left arm.
The Centurion was suddenly aware once more of the party going on around them. So intent had they all been on watching Justus’ exchange with Sejanus that he had failed to notice the hundred or so boisterous souls drinking and shouting to make themselves heard in Proculeius’ hall. All looked to be completely intoxicated, and many were passed out on their couches or on the floor. Wine goblets and food trays littered the ground as servants worked frantically to try to keep up with the ever growing mess. Across the hall, next to where Pilate’s couch sat, was Proculeius, his butt and legs still on the couch, though the rest of his body was on the floor where his arms were splayed out to his sides.
“I’ve got an idea,” Artorius said with a grin.
He then handed his wife over to Flavia, who guided her onto a couch. Justus had sat back down and was eating and drinking as if nothing had happened.
“Please forgive my friend, he meant no harm,” Pilate pleaded once he and Sejanus were alone.
“I’ve never known a man to use the words fuck you and not mean any harm,” Sejanus replied coldly. Pilate swallowed hard but then decided to take a chance. After all, he should be the last person who needed to be afraid of Sejanus.
“Justus did have a point,” he observed. He started to explain quickly as his superior raised an eyebrow at the statement. “After all, his quote of the Emperor was exact. Besides, he’s nothing more than a Centurion from the east.”
“I remember him,” Sejanus said, his voice still cool, though not with the venom it once held. “He was but a mere Optio when last in Rome; sent here to spy on us for the nosy Legates of the east who can’t seem to handle their own affairs, yet they feel the need to stick their dripping noses into the Emperor’s. Tiberius was correct to recall that nuisance Lamia and make him absentee governor from Rome. You’re right, of course. Your friend is harmless enough, as long as he’s in the east. See to it that he stays there.” His face was close to Pilate’s as he spoke his last words.
The Tribune nodded in reply, relieved that Sejanus seemed to let the matter drop. The Praetorian Commander then started back towards the hall, suddenly cheerful once more as he turned and faced his deputy.
“Seems you’ve been neglecting someone all night, old friend,” he said with a wink as Claudia walked past him.
“There you are, love!” she said with exasperation. She immediately saw the vexation on his face even after Sejanus left. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he replied with a quick shake of the head. He was suddenly tired. He knew he would have to deal with Justus later and lay out for him just how close he had come to oblivion. The thought of that sapped whatever energy he had left.
“Many of our guests are either passed out or having their servants take them home,” Claudia said with a yawn. “It seems that Father gave his personal key to your legionaries in kitchen and gave them access to his special stock of best wine. I think there’s a whole other party going on in the wine cellar.”
Pilate chuckled quietly at the thought of how livid Proculeius would be when he saw that his private cellar had been raided by the legionaries he spat upon. In his extreme stupor, he would never remember for certain if, in fact, he had given his personal key to the soldiers.
“I think we should be off to home and bed ourselves,” Claudia insisted. “Our friends will have the marriage feast to debauch themselves again.” Pilate nodded in concurrence and put his arm around her waist as they walked towards one of the side exits, not wishing to pass through the now trashed banquet hall.
Another party had, indeed, begun in the cellar. Artorius stood at the top of the stairs, laughing to himself as he absently turned Proculeius’ key over in his hand. The kitchen slaves stood mortified, but they dared not protest. After all, the Centurion had the Master’s key. Praxus stumbled up the stairs, a sloshing silver goblet in his hand.
“You have got to try this!” he slurred, thrusting the ornate chalice into Artorius’ hand. “We found his personal stash, and all I can say is he must have paid a fortune for it!” Artorius sniffed the wine and took a long, slow drink. It was a mellow red wine, with just a touch of sweetness that was not too overpowering.
“Very nice,” he replied, taking another drink. “Where did you get the cup?”
“He keeps the silver down there as well,” Praxus replied. He then let out a loud belch before continuing. “Don’t worry; the lads know they are not to walk off with any of it! I told them we will be good to our gracious host, asshole that he is…no offence, sir!”
“None taken,” Artorius laughed. “He is an asshole, though gracious with his wine.” He made certain that his men thought that Proculeius had indeed given him his personal key, which would make his story more believable when the time came to explain to his father-in-law how filthy legionaries consumed his most precious vintage.
“I need to piss!” a voice shouted from bellow.
“No going on the floor!” he heard Magnus shout. “We are respectable guests to our Centurion’s beloved father-in-law! Here, we’ll use the empty vat.”
Artorius almost dropped the goblet as he burst into laughter. Knowing his men, they would all relieve themselves into the empty vat, and then replace it onto the shelves as if it still contained Proculeius’ wine.
“We need some quality prostitutes, too,” another soldier called out. “I want to fuck something!”
“Anybody know where the nearest brothel is?” yet another asked.
“Two miles east, I think,” Legionary Decimus said, his voice slurred.
“No it’s not, dumbass!” they heard Carbo retort. “It’s to the west.”
“All I know is I need to bury my cock is something warm and wet,” the first legionary asserted.
“Stick it in the piss vat!” Decimus replied, bringing more drunken laughter from their friends. Artorius laughed and shook his head. He really was enjoying the spectacle his men were putting on. A few years ago he would have been one of the worst offenders of the lot. But now the responsible leader within him knew he had to rein his men in soon, lest they do something drastic.
“Give them another half an hour and then start rounding everyone up,” Artorius directed.
Even in his drunken state Praxus still comprehended an order when it was given.
“Yes, sir,” he replied with a hiccup.
A woman’s shrieking echoed from down the hall, followed by sounds of laughter. Artorius and Praxus watched as Valens came through the kitchen, a fetching young servant woman draped over his shoulder. Svetlana was behind them and was smacking the girl on the butt, who yelped gleefully at each swat.
“Oh, she likes this then, the saucy little bitch!” Svetlana laughed as they passed the Centurion and Optio and headed towards the servant’s quarters.
“Does Magnus know that his sister…” Praxus started to say but could not find the words.
“That his sister is a female replica of Valens?” Artorius finished for him. “I’m almost certain, though we never mention it around him.”
It was only after the last of his legionaries had safely left the Proculeius estate-with the exception of Valens who was occupied with Svetlana and the slave woman-Artorius returned to the banquet hall to find his wife. Diana lay curled up on one of the couches, with other guests strewn throughout. Pilate and Claudia had long since departed, and slaves had taken their host to his room. Justus and Flavia also had left earlier, which was just as well. Though Artorius had enjoyed watching his friend stand up to Sejanus, he knew that Justus had played a very dangerous hand.