“The fates must be very kind, to have placed us together again,” he said, turning to face her.
“Or very cruel. After all, it is extremely dangerous.” The smile on her face contrasted with the coldness of Achillia’s assessment.
“Well, since we do not know where, exactly, Plautius will place you within the army, what say we take the time we do have to reacquaint each other?” Magnus had a deviant grin on his face, which Achillia readily matched. In that moment, he felt like the most fortunate man in the whole of the empire.
As they left the principia, Sempronius went into a private meeting with Vespasian while Artorius hailed Tribune Cursor. The two had only seen each other in passing since their return to the Rhine. This was the first, and possibly last, time they’d have to reminisce before the invasion.
“Who would have thought we’d end up here?” Artorius chuckled. “To think that a few short years ago I was cast out of the legions, and you had long since left the sword behind for a career in politics.”
“It would seem that life has taken us full circle,” Cursor added. “I promised Adela that after Braduhenna I would never more draw a blade in anger.”
“She took your heeding the emperor’s call rather well, I thought.”
“She did not like it, but she understood,” the tribune explained. “In the end, I really had no choice, and not because the emperor personally asked me to command his cavalry. Adela knows me better than any, and I think she saw that I had some important matters left unfinished even before I did. I spent many years away from the army, yet when I returned I knew I was doing the right thing.”
“It was the same with me,” Artorius remarked. He paused, his brow creased in thought.
Cursor could tell there was something that had been troubling his friend for a long time. “Listen, about the letter you sent me when I was in Judea. I’ve always meant to ask you about it, but…”
“I never faulted you for not responding,” the tribune quickly interrupted. “Honestly, I never expected you to. I mean what could you say?” The letter referred to was one that Cursor had written to Artorius twelve years prior, after the fall of Emperor Tiberius’ praetorian prefect, Lucius Aelius Sejanus. It was Cursor, and small handful of others, who discovered the praetorian’s plan to usurp the emperor.
“Well, just so you know, I never told Pilate,” Artorius assured him. “I’m not sure which would have hurt him more, that it was an old friend who destroyed his benefactor or that said benefactor was an ignominious traitor? What surprised me is that you sought reelection as tribune of the plebs after all of that.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Cursor admitted. “I did what I had to do, bringing down he who betrayed the empire. But when Tiberius ordered the deaths of Sejanus’ two youngest children, I broke inside. Did you know they defiled the young girl while the noose was around her neck? Their rationale was that it would offend the gods to execute a virgin. As if they would be better disposed towards raping an innocent child before murdering her!” Though a dozen years had passed, the horrifying events of that hateful night still haunted the tribune. He pulled out a small kerchief and wiped his brow.
“Claudius was there that night,” Cursor continued. “He absolved me of any blame in the death of his niece and nephew, for you remember at the time he was married to Sejanus’ sister and was very close with the children. And in those few moments we shared, we promised each other we would attempt to find something in Rome worth fighting for. That is why I sought reelection or, at least, that was what I told everyone. After ten years, I was tired. Adela worried about me, she knew that I had yet to find that which I sought and my soul was tormented as a result. Claudius becoming emperor and offering me command of the army’s cavalry corps restored that hope. Adela laments that I must now break my promise of never drawing my sword again in anger. She told me that it may be the only way to salvage my sanity and my very being.”
Artorius was aware of at least some of the events that had transpired in the aftermath of Sejanus’ downfall, though he did not know about the repugnant violation of the traitor’s innocent daughter. “And to think, Tiberius was once one of the greatest men to lead Rome’s armies into battle,” he said quietly.
“That is why I was so torn over what he’d done,” Cursor remarked. “I was the one who informed him about Sejanus’ betrayal, as well as later, when it was proven that Sejanus also had a hand in murdering Tiberius’ son. When I last saw the emperor, I did not recognize him anymore. Gone was the unbeaten general who had led the legions to countless victories. He was always cold and distant, but even his first years as emperor showed him to be a strong leader.”
“I think, had he died before his son, he would have passed into eternity hailed as one of the greatest men to serve Rome,” Artorius conjectured. He then asked, “Have you found what you seek?”
“We shall see,” his friend replied. “I will say this; I do not think I will be returning from Britannia. Oh, I don’t mean to say that I foresee my death, although that is always a very real possibility. No, something tells me my future lies within that isle that we now seek to place under Roman rule. I have told Adela as much, and that we should be ready to sell the vineyard when the time arises. As it is right now, we have a tenant farmer renting it from us. I hope it does not trouble you that I should seek to sell your childhood home.”
“It is not home for me anymore,” the master centurion assured him. “If it was, I never would have sold it to you in the first place. I may have been raised there, but I was still a boy of seventeen when I left. And with parents gone, any thoughts of ‘home’ are not to be found there. But now to the present, for we have a long journey ahead of us before we can even think of such things.”
“Agreed,” Cursor replied, extending his hand. “I daresay, within the next few days, we will be writing the pages of history.”
That anyone knew exactly where to go and which ship to board amazed Artorius. The camp had been torn down, all tents and supplies loaded onto wagons and pack mules. Representatives from each of Stoppello’s ships, usually the sailing masters, guided each unit to their ship. Two centuries could fit aboard each vessel with cavalry regiments requiring more with their horses. A full third of the transports were dedicated to logistics stores, along with a handful of men to aid the quartermasters once they unloaded.
As the mariner assigned to guide the Twentieth Legion’s First Cohort’s First Century to its assigned ship, Artorius saw the massive lines of legionaries, auxiliary troopers, and cavalrymen hustling to get up the planks. As each ship took on its payload of men and supplies, they would cast off, though each had to take extreme caution so as not to ram into other vessels coming and going from the partially enclosed harbor. Artorius knew there was nothing he could do but follow the man and trust in those whose duty was to coordinate that journey across the channel and subsequent landing. He only hoped that once ashore, the correct units were landing with him.
“You’re fortunate, sir,” the sailing master said as they reached the boarding plank of their assigned ship. “You get to sail to Britannia aboard Admiral Stoppello’s flagship.”
“Welcome aboard, Artorius!” the admiral said excitedly, climbing down from the upper rear deck of his ship as the master centurion and his men stepped off the boarding plank. Judging by his blood-shot eyes, Stoppello had barely slept in days, the enormity of his task bearing down on him. However, in addition to being a first rate sailor, he was also a logistics master and knew how to coordinate even as large and chaotic of a debarkation as this.
“Just tell us where you want us,” Artorius replied.
The wind and movement of hundreds of ships under oars had made the waves very choppy, and the ship rocked about erratically. Stoppello and his sailors scarcely noticed, though Artorius had to stop for a moment, lest his dinner spew forth onto the deck.
“Right up here, near the prow of the ship,” Stoppello said, waving his hand towards the open space at the front, which normally would have been covered in cargo.
The sun was beginning to set, and both Plautius and Stoppello wanted to make certain all vessels were at sea and in formation before night fell. As the flagship, Stoppello had elected to be among the last to depart.
“Let the men ground their armor but have them stay close,” Artorius ordered Parthicus. “Get some rest if they can, but I want everyone suited up and ready to assault by the time the isle is in sight.”
“Yes, sir,” the optio replied. He in turn said a few quick words to the principle officers and squad leaders.
Before the ship even pulled in its gangplank, the men were out of their armor and lounging on the deck near the front of the ship. Many were using their armor for pillows and back rests.
“Where would you like me?” Camillus asked, walking up to Artorius, who had just finished removing his armor.
“For now, wherever you want,” he replied. “Just be sure you find me well before we go ashore.”
“Of course,” the aquilifer said as he set the eagle down near his armor and kit. “Oh, by the way, before we left, Glabrio asked me about his signet ring. I told him he must have lost it; he never mentioned it again.”
“Probably forgot all about it,” Artorius grunted.
In the background, he could hear orders being shouted by both Stoppello and the sailing master. The ship lurched in the surf as oars slapped into the water, pulling them away from the docks.
“And I shouldn’t use that anymore; just keep it as a souvenir. Plautius gave Sempronius his own signet ring and told him his seal is to be used for the Twentieth Legion.”
“Fair enough,” Camillus shrugged. He turned back and watched the still hectic coastal town as the ship slowly put distance between them and the imperial mainland. “Think we’ll ever see home again?”
“Who knows,” Artorius replied. He then nodded towards the setting sun that glowed red just over the water. “What I do know is that our destiny lies there, just beyond that horizon.”