“So what if they do?” Amke retorted, grinding the stone into her axe even harder. “At least they make it known when they intend to plunder and conquer. Rome pretends to be our friends. They sicken us with their flattery and promises of protection. My father was a great warrior for both Adel and Diocarus Segon, long before he married Diocarus’ daughter, my mother.”
“Yes,” Lourens replied, “and he also saw the terror that the Romans could bring. Don’t forget that my father was killed by the forces of Drusus Nero. We were unprepared for the Romans when they came and they rolled right over us.”
“We had never seen their kind before,” Amke added, her temper cooling slightly. “Such discipline, my father said! I understood why he admired them, and when Drusus offered our people such reasonable terms it seemed too good to refuse. I wonder, though, if Drusus had other reasons for wishing to end the fighting so quickly.” Amke’s eyes brightened as a realization came to her.
“What do you mean?” Lourens was suddenly interested to know what the young warrior maiden was thinking.
“Think about it,” she continued. “It is understandable that Rome would want to end the fighting in any war as soon as possible and he could have set any terms he wanted. Why so little? Did he see the potential our people possessed, and he looked to stifle it with diplomacy rather than the sword?”
“Doubtful,” the Master of Horse replied. “As much as it pains me to admit it, we were soundly beaten. He could have demanded any terms he wanted.”
“Then perhaps Drusus Nero was the great man that some say he was.”
“There is a ring of truth to your words,” Lourens replied as he started to sharpen his spear once more. “Drusus respected our people, though not because of our fighting prowess. He had hoped to integrate us fully as a province of the Empire. He died before he could follow through on this. His brother, Tiberius, did not see this the same way he did. Although this could be because, at the time, he was too busy fighting in Germania proper. Drusus had another reason for suing for peace so quickly with us. He needed all of his forces available to help his brother against our neighbors to the east.”
“I try not to hate the Romans,” Amke said after a brief silence. She was now staring into the fire, which danced in her greenish blue eyes. “But this spawn of hell that infects our lands has undone what relations existed between our peoples for the last forty years. I don’t know if we can defeat them, but we have a better chance against the legions than we do against starvation.”
The actual wedding of Pontius Pilate and Claudia Procula had been rather anticlimactic compared to the prenuptial feast and all that had transpired. The auspices were taken, much to Artorius’ annoyance, the vows spoken, and the two finally bound together after many years of betrothal. Somehow the Praetorians and legionaries managed to mingle without starting a brawl amongst each other during the marriage feast. Flavia had dragged Justus away early, lest he start another quarrel with Sejanus. She understood what another spat between those two could mean, even if her husband did not.
Too soon the day came for their return voyage. Though Artorius was sad to see his friends leave, and to say his goodbyes to Pilate and Claudia, he was more melancholy about not having spent more time with his father and Juliana. He said as much to Diana as they watched Ostia slowly disappear from the back of the ship that would take them on the first leg of their voyage back to the Rhine.
“They are wonderful people,” she replied, wrapping her arm through his and gazing at the ring on the third finger of her left hand. Her father-in-law had shyly presented it to her during their farewell meal. It had been the ring on Artorius’ mother’s finger for many years. It was a rather plain ring, all that Primus as a teacher and former legionary had been able to afford. And yet, it meant more to Diana than the most expensive gold and jewels in the world. “To tell the truth, I would have much rather spent more time with them than with my own father and stepmother.”
Artorius bit the inside of his cheek and stifled a laugh.
“You don’t have to refrain from saying what’s on your mind,” Diana scolded gently as she squeezed his arm. “I know you think my father’s an ass, and really I don’t blame you.”
“Pompous prick, I think is what Magnus called him,” Artorius replied. He then shrugged. “At least none of his mannerisms passed on to you or Claudia.”
“No, we both took after our mother,” she replied. It was then her turn to stifle a giggle at the mentioning of the Norseman’s name. “Speaking of Magnus, I know about the ‘present’ he and the rest of the boys left in the wine cellar. I still can’t fathom how I was the only one to see you take the key from Father! Even he thinks he must have given it to you.”
“A bit of divine justice, perhaps,” Artorius chuckled.
“Yes, it was,” Diana replied. “You know that vat the boys used to relieve themselves with had contained his most expensive vintage! Thankfully, servants discovered this well before he asked for it.”
“That’s too bad,” Artorius said with a trace of disappointment in his voice. “I can imagine the look on his face had he tried to sample a taste!”
“Oh trust me, he was livid enough as it was,” his wife said while shaking her head. “At least now all he thinks is that the wine was consumed, not that some lowly legionaries then used the same empty vat to urinate in.”
“Yes, well at least they didn’t go on the floor! They were all proper gentlemen.” Artorius and Diana were both laughing out loud by this point, causing some of the ship’s crew to stare at them.
“That wine was almost a hundred years old!” Diana laughed as she envisioned the look of utter rage that her father must have possessed when he found out.
“Well, next time just you and I come here,” Artorius mused as their laughter subsided. “We will only see who we want, the rest be damned!”
Chapter XIII: Son of Longinus
Fortress of the Twentieth Legion
May, 27 A.D.
“List of new recruits, sir,” Praxus said as he handed a scroll to Artorius, who sat behind his desk with his feet up.
“Damn it Praxus, quit calling me sir when it’s just us,” the Centurion replied as he took the list from his Optio. “I see the recruiting drives have been paying off.”
“Yes, sir,” Praxus replied, winking at Artorius who shot him a glare. “Ten more with this group, plus the eight others who started training two weeks ago. Provided they all survive training, this will finally put us back to where we were before that entire lot all up and retired, plus a couple to spare.”
“Nice. Say, why did you underline this name…oh, I see!” Artorius was caught by surprise at the name of one particular recruit, though it was one he should have been expecting. The scroll read:
Name: Gaius Longinus
Age: 17
Place of Birth: Syria
Father / Patron Sponsor: Justus Longinus
“Seems Justus’ son has joined the legions after all,” Praxus mused.
“That he has,” Artorius agreed. “Just don’t go showing him any favorable treatment, but don’t single him out for extra punishment either. I know Justus will want him to make his own way in the legions. Now that I think about it, I’ve never even seen Gaius. I have no idea what he looks like.”