Cursor was stunned by the enormity of what Claudius was asking him. Despite his longing to retire to private life, as well as his promise to his wife many years before that he would never again ride into battle, he knew there was only one answer he could give.
“It is I who am honored to accept,” he replied, clasping Claudius’ hand.
This was perhaps a breach of protocol, as one did not ever lay hands on the emperor, but then Claudius had asked him as a friend, rather than as his emperor.
Cursor’s heart was pounding in his chest as he left the imperial palace. His immediate concern was how his wife, Adela, would react. After thirteen years of marriage she knew her husband intimately, and she would also understand that such an offer of command from the emperor was not one to be ignored lightly. He would have to leave for the frontier by the next spring to begin consolidation and training of his forces. Would Adela accompany him? He certainly hoped so! There were also many intrusive thoughts and trepidations about the coming expedition, not least of which was the very reasonable chance that he would not be coming back. The sky was overcast as he stepped out onto the street. He closed his eyes and raised his head towards the heavens.
“Let me find what I seek,” he said to whatever force in the universe may have been listening, “and then consign me to oblivion.”
Chapter VII: Somewhere Far Beyond
Fortress of the Twentieth Legion, Cologne, Germania
August, 41 A.D.
Metellus had been required to return to the fortress after his month of leave, but Artorius had no such orders. He would make certain to pack up as much of his household as reasonable, though he knew his return to the legions would be temporary, a few years perhaps, and then he intended to return to Ostia. He also rightly suspected that his reassignment had been at least partially influenced by the rumblings coming from Britannia.
Tribune Cursor’s selection as commander of all cavalry forces in both Gaul and Germania only added to the speculation. He would finish out his term as tribune of the plebs, which would end at the start of the new year, and join his regiments the following spring. He and Adela had been kind enough to host a dinner for Artorius and Diana before their departure for the Rhine. It was strange in a way for Artorius, returning to the house he grew up in, only now it was owned by his friend rather than his family. And while he knew his way around, it did not feel like his childhood home anymore.
“How is Adela handling your return to active service?” Artorius asked when the two men were alone in Cursor’s study after dinner.
“She understands,” he replied. “She held back her tears, only saying that she was glad I found something I could fight for again. To be honest, that is only partially true. I hope I have found that which I seek, but I will not know for certain until well after we have launched the invasion and landed across the channel.”
“And what exactly is it that you seek?”
“A chance to build, rather than destroy,” Cursor explained. “Not to sound overly idealistic, but I want to leave the world, or at least part of it, a better place than I found it. Britannia, I think, will give me that chance.”
“And is Adela accompanying you to the Rhine?” Artorius asked.
“She is, for she understands my intent. Between us, old friend, I do not think I shall be coming back from Britannia. We’ve already arranged to sell the house and the vineyards, and I foresee a new life for us across the water. Of course, all of this is dependent on the success of our mission and my not getting killed in the process.”
He let out a dark chuckle at the last assessment. It was a cold reality, though; even if the invasion went as planned and the tribal kingdoms were quickly subdued, there would still be Roman soldiers paying the ultimate price in blood. Artorius took a deep pull off his wine and wondered silently if he would be returning from Britannia. His conversation with Cursor confirmed his suspicions that the emperor intended to conquer the province. It all made sense in the end. Claudius needed to secure his military credentials, as this would maintain his popularity with the people, along with strengthening his own personal security. And demonstrating that Rome stood by her allies also gave Claudius enormous political influence, regardless of the circumstance that required said allies to become subjects of the empire.
“Claudius is determined to make his name in Britannia,” Artorius observed. “And we will be the ones who make it for him.”
“Welcome home, brother!” Cartimandua said, extending her arms and embracing Alaric. “Forgive me for missing you, but I had pressing business away south. Had I known you’d come back to us, I would have delayed a day in order to be here to greet you.”
Though it had been two months since his return, this was the first time he had seen the queen. The years had only added to her beauty, enhancing her womanly features. She was tall for a woman, almost able to look him in the eye. Her light brunette hair was braided on both sides, which were pulled together in the back. She wore a thin, gold band around her head as a type of crown. Her long gown was lightweight and colored in earthen tones. The queen of the Brigantes resonated both regality and strength.
“My queen,” Alaric said, bowing deeply.
“Please,” Cartimandua said, taking him by the hand which brought a shiver up his spine. “When it is just us, we can dispense with the formalities. Walk with me; I want to hear all about your travels.”
“Of course,” he replied, “but first I want to know about my mother.”
Though the day was warm, if a bit overcast, Cartimandua shuddered slightly, as if chilled. She said nothing for a few moments as they strolled amongst the hedgerows that ran along the grounds behind her great hall.
“Forgive me,” she said once again. “I should have first offered my condolences to you. You know she was very dear to me as well.”
“What happened?” Alaric persisted. “She was not an old woman, and her health had never been poor.”
“Dear brother, you’ve been away for many years,” Cartimandua said. “Your mother aged considerably over the last few years. She and my father were very close. Although they never married, nor made public any sort of relationship, it was plain to me that there was much more between them than just close friends and companions. When he passed on seven years ago, she took it very hard.”
“I am sorry,” Alaric replied. “Breogan practically raised me, and was the only father figure I ever knew.”
“His death was unexpected,” Cartimandua remarked. “He fell ill during a really bad winter, yet he refused to be bedridden or cease in his work. He weakened himself to the point that by the time he did rest and recover, it was already too late. Milla insisted on not leaving my side during the time of mourning, though I think this was as much for her own sake as mine.”
“And I was long since gone,” Alaric added, suddenly struck by feelings of guilt.
“You must not blame yourself,” the queen consoled him. “You had to find your own way in the world, and your mother never faulted you for it. She did always hope that she would see you again, but as the years passed, she assumed something tragic had befallen you. Before she left us, she told me ‘I go to be with my husband and son’.”