“Do you have a problem with that, Optio?” There was a sneer forming on Fulvius’ face as he used his rank to trump Artorius. He also seemed to note that not once had the Optio called him sir.
“To be perfectly blunt, yes, I do!” Artorius was flabbergasted and not ready to back down without at least trying to make things right. “The Tesserarius and the Decanii spend an entire day each month working on that roster. What you are proposing will undermine the whole system, to say nothing of the issues of good order and discipline! And for what? So you can fatten your own coffers on their wages?”
Fulvius became enraged at this insubordination. He grabbed his vine stick and slammed it on the desk.
“Do you dare to tell me what my place is?” he fumed. “It is perfectly within my rights to allow the men to offer a stipend to avoid placement on the duty roster!”
“You mean they can bribe you to get out of work,” Artorius growled. He knew he was losing this fight, but he made sure his final point stuck. Fulvius then rushed towards him, holding his vine stick in front of him.
“You getting insubordinate with me, boy?” he snarled as Artorius remained rigid. “Perhaps I need to teach you a bit of a lesson.” As he started to pull his vine stick back, Artorius quickly reached up and grabbed the end of it, all the while remaining fixed in his spot with his other hand still clasped behind his back.
“Careful you don’t overstep your authority,” he said coolly. “A Centurion may use corporal punishment on legionaries, but to strike a Decanus or Principal Officer requires the approval of the Cohort Commander.” Fulvius attempted to pull his stick away, but Artorius kept his grip firm. “You should also know that a report for every such punishment must be sent forward to the Centurion Primus Pilus. So before you strike me, you might want to make sure you can get the approval of Lincinius. I don’t doubt he will give it to you. But I think you should also make certain once said punishment is executed, that Master Centurion Calvinus will find it was justifiable.”
As he released his grip on the vine stick, Artorius wondered if Fulvius would know he was partially bluffing. Certainly a Centurion could strike any one of his men if he saw fit, advising the Cohort Commander later, if at all. In fact, Macro had struck Artorius with his vine stick on one occasion without anyone’s approval, and Artorius had been a Decanus at the time. The blow had been justified, and besides, Macro had a solid reputation of being stern but fair. Yet even if Fulvius was aware of Artorius’ bluff, he had to know that if he did strike his Optio, word of it would eventually reach Master Centurion Calvinus, who would want answers as to why a brand new Centurion with a spotty record was striking a highly decorated Optio on little more than a whim. Artorius had been candid and forceful with his statements to Fulvius, but at no time had he crossed the line to insubordination. Macro had always appreciated his candor, even if he did find it irritating from time to time.
Artorius forced himself to keep his composure and remain stoic as Fulvius slowly lowered his vine stick. His bluff had worked, it seemed. His fleshy face was red with anger and he stood nose to nose with the Optio. Artorius almost gagged on his rotten breath, which stank of bile and sour wine.
“You may think that you run this century, Optio,” Fulvius whispered, his voice thick with venom. “There is a new order here. Your friend, Macro, isn’t here to protect you anymore. I have friends more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Remember that before I have you flogged and busted down to a mere ranker. Whether you like it or not, boy, I own you!”
Artorius left for the gym that evening in a seething rage. He was followed out by his friend, Praxus, who was also the Century’s Tesserarius.
“Hey Artorius!” he shouted, running to catch up to his friend. “What the hell, man? What’s Fulvius doing, telling us to scrap the damned duty roster! He’s bringing back the practice of bribery for gods’ sake!”
Artorius spun and glared at his friend.
“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped, his face red and the veins in his neck bulging. “Damn it, Praxus, I am fucking powerless to stop him if he wants to bring that practice back. Technically, what he’s doing is not illegal. And even if we all think it should be, we don’t set policy or regulation. What would you have me do?”
Praxus nodded his head and looked down, apologetic.
“I’m sorry, Artorius. I just see where this will lead, and so do you. A couple of the lads may take Fulvius up on his offer, and that alone will bugger up the duty rosters. I also know that if not enough of the lads start coming forward with bribes, he’ll start randomly punishing them for not fattening his purse. We’ve got to find a way to stop him. I don’t want the men to suffer needlessly because of him.”
At that moment they saw the door to the Century’s office open and the legionary who had been assigned as the Centurion’s aide walked out. Whereas ten minutes prior his face had been unblemished, there was now an ugly black and blue mark across the left side of his face. His eye was swollen and purple.
“Here, Legionary!” Artorius shouted to the young man, who quickly jogged over and stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Sir?” the lad asked, trying to maintain his bearing.
“What the hell happened to you?” Artorius suspected he knew the answer.
“Centurion said I was insubordinate, when he asked me if I would like to offer up a few coins to keep off the duty roster next month,” the soldier explained, “I respectfully declined, saying that my lady is expecting a child within a month, and I need all the coin I can get to care for her and my son or daughter. That’s all I said, sir, I swear.”
“And for that he said you were insubordinate?” Praxus asked, his face showing deep concern.
“Yes, sir. I promise there was no more said by me.” The legionary’s face showed signs of desperation as he did not know what to do and looked fearful. The young man had been in the army for just over six months and was still very new to the legions. It was not that he was a stranger to physical punishment.
Artorius had remembered lashing the soldier a couple of times himself during recruit training. This had always been as a means of correction during stake drills, weapons practice, or century maneuvers. It was never personal, and he never struck a recruit in the face. Roman society placed great emphasis on physical appearance, and for Fulvius to blatantly smash his vine stick across the young man’s face was a sign of great disrespect.
“It’s already starting,” Praxus said, looking over at his Optio, whose face tightened.
“Sirs, may I speak freely?” the legionary asked. He looked exasperated and in desperate need to voice his concerns to someone in authority.
“Walk with us,” Artorius replied, as he and Praxus tried to put as much distance between themselves and the Century’s billet, lest Fulvius be watching them.
“Sir, I understand the need for hard discipline in the legions,” the soldier said quickly, as if trying to say everything he could before it escaped him. “I’ve always borne my lashes with dignity, for they were always warranted. I have also spent time as an aide before. I got tasked to spend a week as Centurion Macro’s aide right out of recruit training. I was scared out of my mind to be working so close to him, but he was alright. You and he have always been hard but fair with us. Punishments and rewards were always doled out based on our merits, nothing more or less. But now…” He stopped and lowered his head. His body was trembling slightly and it took every ounce of his resolve to keep his composure.
“Now rewards will be based on who bribes the Centurion,” Praxus continued for him, “and punishments will come to those who are unable or unwilling to do so.”