“Lamia is stuck in Rome,” Claudia observed, “so what good can he do you?”
“He is still Governor of Syria,” Pilate sighed. “Yet Tiberius does not trust him and will not let him leave Rome, so he cannot even see firsthand what is happening here. He adamantly refuses to send me even a single cohort of legionaries to assist me.”
“Do you have any friends who could help?” his wife asked as she gently ran her fingers up and down his back.
Pilate nodded, though there was no optimism in his expression.
“The one man who would be willing to help is, unfortunately, in no position to do so.”
“You mean Artorius,” Claudia observed, after a seconds thought.
Pilate turned and looked his wife in the eye.
“You know what happened to him then?” he asked.
Claudia glanced at the floor and gave a sad nod.
“I received a letter from Diana,” she replied. “It came with the imperial post, which I suspect is how you heard.”
“Only the official reports which were scant at best. Sejanus added a few words, mentioning Artorius by name. No doubt he did this as a courtesy to me. After all, what does the whole of the Empire care about a thousand dead legionaries, as long as they won the battle?” There was bitterness in his voice and the expression on Claudia’s face told him that she knew better than to pursue the issue further.
“What about Justus?” she asked after a minute’s pause. “He’s your friend, too, and he is just over the border in Syria.”
Pilate gave a sad smile and shook his head.
“You forget his outburst at our prenuptial feast where he grossly insulted Sejanus,” he replied.
Claudia furrowed her brow.
“They had a spat,” she observed. “But they had both been drinking and it could not have been that bad.”
“When one says ‘fuck you’ to the Emperor’s right hand, it is usually not a good omen,” Pilate responded. “Justus is lucky to still hold his position as a Centurion in the Sixth Legion. Sejanus would have ruined him were he not my friend. No, though Justus would doubtless jump at the chance to help restore some dignity and order to this gods forsaken place, he has been relegated to obscurity.”
Claudia placed her head on her husband’s shoulder as they both gazed out the window and watched ships coming into the harbor in the distance.
The leaves were full of color and falling from the trees as a breeze took hold of them. Though Artorius hated winter and the cold weather, he loved this time of year when it was not so hot and the trees colorful. He and Diana walked along the riverbank, her hand in his. His physical wounds had mostly healed, though he knew the emotional ones would leave even deeper scars. The men he had lost were slowly being replaced, but they could never be replaced where it mattered most. It was not just soldiers under his command who had died, but also close friends. Decimus and Carbo had been with him since he first joined the legions thirteen years before. And Vitruvius, his dear friend and mentor, was gone.
Yet at the same time he felt revived, almost reborn now that he had a son. Agricola had taken the young legionary into his own First Century of the Sixth Cohort.
“Agricola tells me that Metellus has so far been a model legionary,” Artorius said as Diana laid her head on his shoulder, “admired by his friends, as well as his superiors.”
Metellus’ performance and conduct made Artorius especially proud, for he knew Agricola was a stickler for standards and at times a harsh disciplinarian. And far from showing any favors, Artorius knew the Pilus Prior would most likely expect Metellus to maintain an even higher standard of performance and conduct than his fellow legionaries.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Diana replied with a smile. Though she had not raised him or even known him for long, there was already a strong bond between them. “You know, he calls me Mother, even though I told him it was not necessary.”
This made Artorius smile in turn.
“I know I can never replace Rowana, who gave him birth and raised him.”
“And yet he still feels the same type of bond with you that he had with her,” Artorius replied. “I know this, because he told me.”
Diana gave his hand a squeeze as they continued to walk. Their strolls together in the evenings brought him a sense of peace, in what was otherwise his chaotic life. Before her return, Artorius’ life had been chaotic at best; quite the paradox given the order and discipline in the life of a Centurion of Rome.
Chapter XXVIII: Valeria’s Rebirth
The month that followed his adoption of Metellus had been extremely hectic for Artorius. Another dozen of his men had reported back to the Century, though most would be on light duty for at least a month or so. Only a handful more were expected to return at all, the rest were still awaiting medical discharge. It broke the Centurion’s heart to see his men, who had fought with extreme valor, now cast aside since they were of no use to the legions anymore. Even when the last returned, that would only leave the Second Century with a total strength of forty-six men, to include Centurion Artorius and the Principal Officers; leaving them even more under strength than he had first envisioned. That left thirty-eight vacancies within the Century. Some of the barracks rooms were almost completely vacant. Two only had one soldier living in each of them. Artorius had filled all of the Decanus vacancies from within the ranks, but two of these men had no one to lead. He had gone ahead with the promotions, feeling that it made no sense to leave any leadership position vacant, and that even without a squad to lead, these soldiers who merited the promotion should at least be able to enjoy the extra pay and benefits.
There had also been much in the way of transitions within the Legion’s hierarchy. What caused the greatest stirring was the announced retirement of Master Centurion Calvinus. Centurions Primus Ordo Aemilius and Draco had also submitted their requests for discharge and retirement. Privately, Diana’s cousin, Centurion Primus Ordo Proculus, had also expressed his desire to leave the legions within the next year or so. Artorius could not help but wonder if it was simply coincidence that all of these men were leaving, rather than attempting to replace Calvinus as the Legion’s Primus Pilus, or if there was something more to it. Certainly they were not young men anymore, and most of them had been wounded during the Battle of Braduhenna.
It came as no surprise to anyone then, that during the Council of Centurions, Platorius Macro was selected by an almost unanimous vote to replace Calvinus as Master Centurion. Few of the cohort commanders even attempted to win the position. Most were now focused on attempting to win all of the Primus Ordo vacancies within the First Cohort. All Centurions were eligible for these positions, though Artorius knew he would not be considered. After all, it had taken a special dispensation that allowed him to be promoted to his current rank three years shy of the minimum age requirement. He had reached that age requirement in January, when he turned thirty, and he knew that his name would not even be mentioned in the consideration to fill the Primus Ordo vacancies. It suited him just fine. His heart was with the Second Century, and he knew there was much work to be done in order to heal the wounds of his men. In his mind, taking a promotion at this time would be tantamount to abandoning those who had fought by his side and given so much of themselves.
He had been right about the Primus Ordo positions. Legate Apronius, Master Centurion Macro, and the Legion’s tribunes selected three senior-ranking Centurions to fill the positions. The only one whose name Artorius recognized was his son’s Cohort Commander, Centurion Agricola, who he always regarded with a high level of respect.