It pained Alaric to hear Cartimandua talk so. Was it cowardice or prudence that guided her? The truth was, most people in the world wanted nothing more than to be left to lead their lives in peace. Whether their taxes went to a local king or a foreign emperor, they cared little. He stated this to the queen.
“That may be true,” she concurred. “However, the average peasant is also not a free-thinker. They are easily swayed by strong leaders. Doubtless a number of our nobles will wish to join Caratacus and his brother, Togodumnus, who propose to lead the resistance. I intend to keep Brigantes neutral for the time being, and I will need every friend I can muster if I am to keep my nobles in line. I also will need eyes everywhere, and I understand you need work.”
The abrupt change of topic startled Alaric, and he stumbled upon his words as he tried to reply. “Y…yes. I mean, I have done the occasional carpentry task, as well as helping those who may need extra labor in their fields, but nothing permanent.”
“A common laborer is no place for my dear brother,” Cartimandua asserted as she turned to face him. “I’m offering you a place amongst my personal guard. If you still love me, you will accept.”
It put him on the spot, though both knew there was only one answer he could possibly give.
“Honored, my queen.” Alaric took her hand and kissed the back of it before bowing.
“Can you ride a horse?” the queen asked.
“Not very well,” Alaric admitted.
“You will learn. You have some skill with a blade, and any other proficiency can be learned. What is not learned is loyalty, and that is the quality I need most. My guard is not just to protect my person, but to be my eyes and ears throughout the kingdom. Report to Landon, he will see to your equipment and start your training. I am glad to have you with me, Alaric. Perhaps your return was the gods’ way of sending me a protector.”
“Perhaps,” he replied with a smile.
The trek to Cologne had taken more than a month, with Artorius and Diana traveling first by ship to Massilia in southern Gaul, then by road north through Lugdunum. Upon reaching a merchant port along the River Rhine, just north of the Alpes, Artorius had arranged for their baggage, along with most of their servants, to be transported by river barge all the way up to Cologne. He and Diana, along with her maidservant, his manservant, Nathaniel, and their freedman, Proximo, would finish the journey by road. Artorius, Diana, and Proximo would ride their horses, the other servants confined to walking. Proximo was now in his early sixties, and ever since being given his freedom by Diana, he’d saved his coin and purchased himself a fine Arabian charger. Though he still worked just as vigilantly as he had before, given his age, Artorius and Diana were glad he was able to ride. They continued through Gaul and into Germania, stopping each night at roadside inns or whatever towns and cities their path took them through.
At last, after weeks of riding and what must have been a thousand miles on the road, the enormous fortress came into view. They rode out of a grove of trees along the road that served as the main artery between the northern empire and Italia. They had essentially retraced their steps from when they had left the Rhine on their journey to Judea. The ever-growing city of Cologne had sprung up in the fortress’ wake decades earlier and ran right up to the edge of the River Rhine.
“It would not surprise me if the city spans both sides of the river in years to come,” Diana said with a grin.
“If that happens, we may actually bring civilization to the barbarians,” her husband noted, referring to the untamed lands just across the river, populated by warlike tribes who shared an extremely violent history with Rome.
A Roman fortress was a sight to behold, and the one at Cologne was even more impressive as it housed two legions instead of the usual one. Its walls stood approximately fifteen feet high and were manned by the occasional sentry, as well as scorpion ballistae every few dozen meters. Running along the outside length of the wall was a wide ditch filled with sharp stakes and various entanglements. It was all for show, however, as the Romans were not of a defensive mindset. Even if assailed by the largest of enemy armies that had them substantially outnumbered, the legionaries would spill forth and brazenly meet their foe head-on. It was this guile and aggressiveness that unnerved their adversaries far more than the defensive walls of the fortress.
The gatehouse was very large, with double gates that would allow passage of both men and wagons in both directions. Ever manned by a squad of legionaries, it was almost always left open, and only partially closed at night.
“This is where it all began,” Artorius said quietly, taking a deep breath as they approached the gate.
“Ave, Master Centurion!” a soldier on duty shouted, raising his pilum high in salute as Artorius and Diana rode through. It was surprising that though he traveled in civilian garb, the soldier had recognized him immediately. Artorius thought the man looked familiar and surmised that he may have been one of his legionaries long ago.
“Ten years away, and they still recognize you,” Diana observed with a quiet laugh.
As they dismounted their horses, the decanus in charge of the gate approached the pair and saluted. Artorius returned the courtesy, realizing that this was the first salute he’d been given since he left Judea.
“Welcome home, Master Centurion Artorius,” the sergeant said. “Your presence is required by the commanding legate.”
“Understood,” Artorius replied. “Have a couple of men escort my wife and servants to our quarters.”
“Yes, sir.” The decanus then shouted some orders to a runner, who made his way over to the nearest barracks.
“Time to report for duty, master centurion,” Diana smiled as she kissed her husband on the cheek.
Artorius left his horse with her and slowly made his way through the fortress towards the Principia, taking in the sights of the ever-hectic daily life of the legions. In some ways it felt like, though he’d been away for a decade, he’d never really left. Out of curiosity, he strolled past the barracks of his former unit, the Third Cohort’s Second Century. Coincidentally, they were assembled in full armor and kit, making ready for a road march that each unit made three times a month. Artorius frowned slightly when he did not recognize either the centurion or optio. He did note a few familiar faces amongst the older decanii and legionaries, who in turn shot him a knowing glance, but that was it. The century he had spent sixteen years with was completely foreign to him now. And yet, there was still a sense of familiarity about it.
“The names will change, but the faces remain the same,” he reasoned as he continued on his way. Though he longed to reunite with his old friends who he knew he would find in the first cohort, he had other matters to attend to first.
“Artorius!”
The shout startled him and he turned about to see the first truly familiar face since his arrival. His face broke into a broad grin as the man who called his name walked quickly towards him.
“By Juno…Valens!” he said, forgetting his task for a moment and walking back to embrace the man he’d served with for decades and who’d been his optio in Judea. He then noticed that his friend who, though in his tunic, wore his gladius on his left hip instead of his right, and he carried a vine stick. “Well, I’ll be buggered. They made you a centurion!”