“Hence my meeting with the pilus priors,” Artorius emphasized. “I figure I’ll be seeing them a lot more than the men of my own century.”
“You are correct there, sir,” Praxus added boisterously. “Hell, I hardly even see my own son anymore! Not sure if you knew that Ioan joined the ranks.”
“I did not.”
“He’s with the legion, in the Tenth Cohort. And like you were with Metellus, I’ve had to let him make his own way, though to be honest, having a son in the legions makes me feel awfully old!”
“Well, you’re six years older than me,” Artorius noted, “you’re hardly the virile young man you once were.”
“Fuck that, I can still wield a gladius and my cock with the best of them!” his friend scoffed as they approached the principia. “Here we are then.”
The meeting hall within the principia held a number of tables, as well as a raised platform at the far end with a very long table. During meetings of the centurions’ council, this was where the master centurion and those of the First Cohort sat. It was also used by tribunals during court martials. On this particular day, it was Artorius, the primi ordinones and the cohort commanders who occupied the hall.
Artorius and Praxus made their way to the long table. The only non-centurions present were a pair of clerks, who sat on either side of the master centurion. As Artorius was scanning some notes he’d made the night before, one of the cohort commanders stepped onto the dais.
“Centurion Tyranus!” Artorius said with a grin, standing and extending his hand.
“Ave, master centurion,” Tyranus replied.
“I was just told yesterday that you made centurion pilus prior,” Artorius observed.
“Yes, three years ago they gave me the Fifth Cohort,” Tyranus said. “And I hope you do not take offense, but I was one of those who ran against you for the position of primus pilus.”
“No offense taken.” He then paused in thought for a moment. “I heard that both men who put their names in for consideration were Civic Crown recipients. I did not know you had one.”
“Two, actually,” Tyranus corrected. “My first came at Braduhenna, though since you and I were scarcely acquainted before you departed, I would not expect you to have known that. I was awarded a second not two months after you left for Judea.”
“Oh, yes,” Artorius remarked. “The punitive expedition against the Marsi in Germania that I had to miss out on. A real bitch that was! I never heard anything about it, so I assume it must have gone well.”
“Well enough. The Marsi are so close to our border that we only spent maybe a month in Germania. The legion awarded me my second Civic Crown during a raid. One of the lads was wounded in the arm and couldn’t hold on to his shield. I grabbed him just as the German archers unleashed a volley on us and pulled him beneath my own shield. I didn’t think anything of it until after the campaign when I was called before the entire legion. To be honest, I had forgotten the whole incident and was a little embarrassed for receiving the Civic Crown again.”
“You remembered one of the most important aspects of leadership,” Artorius noted. “And that is, our lives are no more important than those of even the lowest-ranking of our legionaries.”
“My men knew that though I could be a harsh disciplinarian, who was never one to spare the lash, I would have given my life for any one of them.” Tyranus paused for a moment then made another observation. “You know your son is one of my centurions. He commands our Fourth Century.”
“I hope he does well by you,” Artorius stated. “And if he does not, that you would readily tell me.”
Tyranus chuckled in reply. “Metellus is about the least of my worries,” he said. “If he has a glaring fault, it’s that he is far too hard on himself. Sometimes he sets his own expectations unreasonably high. He won’t admit it, but I think he sometimes feels like he’s living in your shadow; probably even more so now, with you being our master centurion. But don’t worry, I’ll break him of it well before we ever leave for the lands of oblivion.”
“Beg your pardon, sir, we’re ready to begin,” one of the cohort commanders stated, cutting short his conversation with Tyranus.
Artorius recognized a few of their faces, but regrettably not their names. He reckoned he would get to know all of them well enough. The Second through Tenth Cohorts were each led by a centurion pilus prior, and consisted of six eighty-man centuries. At full strength, a cohort could have as many as four hundred and eighty legionaries. The elite First Cohort, with its five double-strength centuries had a total compliment of around eight hundred legionaries. They were also the most experienced, with an average time-in-service of fifteen to twenty years. Their centurions, though having fewer men under their command, were actually senior in rank to the cohort commanders and served as tactical and strategic advisors to the commanding legate. The fourteen men who sat around the long table in the meeting hall were the most experienced men in the entire legion. Regardless of who was in command, it was they who would lead their men to either glorious victory or ignominious destruction. And with their assistance, Artorius began to lay out the training plan for the legion for the following year, as well as quelling any unsubstantiated rumors that may have been persisting throughout the ranks.
Chapter IX: March to Glory
Gesoriacum, Coast of Belgica
May, 42 A.D.
Fall passed into winter and winter soon gave way to spring. In Rome, Emperor Claudius continued to strengthen his hold on the empire. In the sixteen months since his ascension, the legions had reaffirmed their loyalty, while members of both the senate and equites felt an immense sense of relief no longer serving a maniacal tyrant who fancied himself a god. And all the while it was thankfully quiet along the Rhine frontier.
Artorius had established a sound working relationship with the centurions of the legion. He had also taken to mentoring the young chief tribune as much as he was able. On those occasions when Legate Glabrio did make an appearance, Artorius or one of his centurions would simply reassure him that they had matters in hand, and he would always leave it at that. For Artorius and Diana, they found themselves resuming their old habits from the time before they’d left the Rhine. Despite the vast changes that had occurred in both Cologne, as well as to themselves, over the years, they essentially resumed their lives where they had left off. The most substantial changes had been Artorius’ duties, as well as them living in the house provided within the fortress, rather than their own dwelling in the city. Diana had gone to their former manor house, which was now owned by a wealthy merchant originally from Ravenna. She had toyed with the idea of possibly purchasing the house; though the owner made it very clear he had no intention of selling.
“I make a fortune off the legions and have expanded into an entire forum’s worth of shops, as well as two brothels, within the town,” he had said. “The weather here is damned awful when compared to northern Italia, but as long as soldiers are willing to depart with their coinage so readily, I have no intention of leaving.”
Diana was, at first, disappointed but then realized it mattered not. A message that came to the fort via the imperial post in the early spring would start the transition not just for Artorius and Diana but the whole of the empire. In the message, Plautius had ordered all senior officers within the Rhine Army to join him at the coastal city of Gesoriacum1 in Belgica, just across the channel from the Isle of Britannia. As Legate Glabrio stated he was not feeling well enough to travel, he sent his chief tribune and master centurion in his place. Artorius had insisted on Magnus coming with him, leaving Praxus to oversee the First Cohort. Two dozen cavalrymen acted as their escorts.