“Yes, I was glad for Magnus and Praxus,” Artorius remarked with a smile. “Their promotions were long overdue. I suspect one of them will become primus pilus before too long.”
The First Cohort housed the elite troops of the legion. It consisted of five centuries instead of the usual six, though each century was at double-strength of one hundred and sixty men. Four of the commanders held the rank of centurion primus ordo and were, in fact, senior in rank to the cohort commanders, serving as tactical advisors to the commanding legate in addition to leading their own troops. The remaining century in the unit, along with the entire cohort, was led by the centurion primus pilus, who also served as the master centurion of the legion and was third in command behind the senatorial legate and chief tribune. It was also the pinnacle of an enlisted soldier’s career, and the only rank within the Roman Army where the holder was elected by his peers. Artorius was proud to hear that the year before his closest friends had been promoted to centurion primus ordo.
“Our master centurion met with a terrible accident three months ago,” Metellus continued. “Gangrene set in and he died a few weeks later.”
“Who was it?” Artorius asked, concerned that it might have been an old comrade.
“No one you knew,” Metellus reassured him. “He’d come to us as a centurion primus ordo from the First Legion. Well, during the Centurions Council to name his replacement, both Magnus and Praxus refused to stand for the position.”
“Why the hell would they do that?” It exasperated Artorius that his friends, who had come so far in their respective careers, would decline a chance at the highest rank any of them could ever achieve.
“Publicly, both said that they lack the necessary experience,” his son explained.
“That’s a load of shit,” Artorius scoffed. “If I ever see those two again, I’ll beat the piss out of them!”
“Most of the cohort commanders are new to their positions as well,” Metellus continued. “It was the oddest thing that we had such a high turnover amongst senior leaders around the same time. Only two of them put their names forward for consideration. Both were Civic Crown recipients. While this holds a lot of sway, Magnus managed to get a third candidate onto the ballot, albeit in absentia.”
He then handed his father the first scroll, which bore the official seal of the imperial post. As Artorius read, his eyes grew wide.
Centurion Primus Ordo Titus Artorius Justus,
In recognition of your lifelong career of service, distinguished conduct, and superior leadership qualities, you are hereby promoted by acclamation of your peers to the rank of Centurion Primus Pilus and appointed Master Centurion of the Twentieth Legion, Valeria.
Signed,
Aulus Plautius
Governor-General, Germania Inferior
“How can this be?” he asked as he read the official order. “I don’t understand why the centurions of a legion I left ten years ago would elect me to be their new primus pilus!”
“Perhaps in your absence, your reputation turned to legend,” Metellus shrugged with a grin. “I will say this; many of us believe that our new emperor will try and finish what his nephew proposed doing with Britannia, only with an actual invasion force and not just ordering us to attack the sea with our weapons and then ‘plunder’ seashells as booty from Neptune; that was an embarrassing, fucked up gaggle as I’ve ever seen. Any potential operations are all speculation and rumor, of course.”
“It would have to be at this point,” Artorius observed. “Claudius has only been on the throne a few months. I doubt that conquering new lands for the empire is foremost on his mind right now.”
“Agreed. However, we’ve been keeping ourselves ready for any such potential campaign, regardless of who is Caesar. And like I said before, most of our cohort commanders are very new, plus the two other centurions primus ordo have scarcely held their billets longer than Magnus and Praxus. The chief tribune is eager enough, but like all young senators who acquire this posting, he is young and inexperienced. And as for our commanding legate, well let’s just say he does not exactly command respect from the ranks.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Lucius Glabrio,” Metellus answered. “He means well, but his greatest weakness is his age. He’s at least twice as old as any of his peers in the Rhine army and probably has grandchildren my age! He also has little to no experience at all. Honestly, I have no idea how he got the position, given how the patricians will practically knife each other in the back in order to get command of a legion. I feel bad, because he’s an agreeable enough fellow and even friendly with the lads. Thing is, the men don’t need a friend. They need a commanding general who can lead them in battle. But since we don’t have that, it was decided we would influence the leadership within the legion as best we could, and that was by selecting a primus pilus that the centurions have confidence in and who our legionaries will follow. And just so you know, there wasn’t even a runoff vote. You garnered more than sixty percent of the vote right from the start. Your two competitors even consented that you were the best choice to guide the Twentieth in whatever endeavors the emperor may send us on.”
As his son spoke, Artorius read and then reread the order, still in shock at how his life was suddenly turned upside down.
“This is all unexpected,” Artorius said after a few moments of silence. “I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Diana answered for him as she stepped through the archway. “Forgive me, but you two were gone for a while, and I thought I’d better check on you.” She then walked over and took her husband by the hand.
“You’re not opposed to leaving home for the Rhine again?” Artorius asked.
“Home is wherever you are, my dear,” Diana replied, kissing him gently.
“There will be much to do before we leave,” Artorius noted, still trying to grasp what had just transpired. He then added with a chuckle, “I don’t suppose we’ll be able to buy back our old manor house in Cologne.”
Among the dispatches Metellus brought with him were the official notifications to the government bureaucracies that oversaw the appointment of public magistrates, and in light of Artorius’ recall to the legions, a replacement was named for him as prefect of the Ostia vigiles almost immediately. The house he and Diana stayed at was owned by the government and was for the prefect, so there was no need to worry about the strain that came from trying to sell. And at the legion fortress on the Rhine, the master centurion had his own rather spacious house, which would suit them unless they decided to find someplace larger away from the fortress.
“A rather painless transition,” Artorius’ replacement, whose name escaped him, noted.
“Just a matter of signing all the necessary documents that relieve me of responsibility for the vigiles and passing it on to you,” he replied. “My household goods will be ready to move within a week, though the army has given me a month to make preparations before I have to start my journey back to the Rhine.”
It was beautiful, sunny day, and they had the shutters open as well as the main doors leading from the office. The new prefect was looking out the window when he saw a young woman walking towards the entrance to their building.
“Well, fancy that,” he said with a grin. “There’s a pretty thing. Do you know her?”
“Can’t say that I do,” Artorius replied as the woman walked into the building. He went back to signing documents when one of the vigiles escorted the young woman in.
“This lass is here to see you, sir,” he said to Artorius.
“Very well.” He then looked to his replacement. “Will you excuse us?”