As he walked he tried to comprehend what all of this meant. He then came to understand that his brother would not be coming home, not then, not ever. He was gone. Artorius started to run. He ran as hard as he could until he reached a small stream, branches of the trees growing along it trailing in the slow current. He sat next to the water and cried, trying in his young mind to fathom the loss. As reality sank in, he thought hard about who had caused this, who had murdered his beloved brother. He thought of the Germans, those unclean, uncivilized barbarians to the North. Those people had murdered his brother. Artorius was suddenly filled with overwhelming anger and hate. His rage was compounded by the fact that he was too young to do anything to avenge his brother. But he would not stay young forever. He swore, then and there, as soon as he was old enough, he would join the ranks, he would become a legionary, and he would avenge his brother. Camilla had tried her best to console him, but even she knew the hatred in his heart would never go away.
Persephone was still trying to recover from a summer chill when news of her son’s death came. Her condition grew worse, turning quickly to pneumonia. She refused to eat, refused to see the doctors, and slowly wasted away. As she lay dying, she clutched her husband’s hand.
“I go now to be with our son,” she whispered. These would be her last words.
Primus was ready to follow his wife and son into the afterlife. Only one thing kept him from taking that final journey. He still had another son and to abandon him was unthinkable. So Primus lived only for his son, for all else had become black and meaningless in his life.
Artorius thought back to those dark days, and it only hardened his resolve. He knew it would be difficult convincing his father to write the necessary letter of introduction that would verify his citizenship and allow him to enlist in the legions. For only Roman citizens could become legionaries. Non-citizens could still serve, but they would serve as auxiliaries, less trained, less adequately equipped, and consequently with a much higher mortality rate than their brothers in the legions. Artorius would become a legionary. He just had to face the daunting task of asking for his father’s blessing. Breaching the question was what troubled him. He would ask Juliana. She and her family had been neighbors of Primus and Persephone since Artorius could remember. She always knew how to talk to his father. Anytime he ever needed to discuss something with the elder Artorius, he always went to her first. He started to walk down the path leading to her house.
Artorius was a strong youth, both in mind and body. He was of average height, but powerfully built. He had heard legends regarding the impressive strength of the Germanic warriors, and he figured he had better be of equal or greater strength. He spent hours in his self-made gym, adding size and power to his frame. His feats of strength were impressive. Equally as impressive was the strength of his intellect. One minute he would be pressing great stones over his head or wrestling with bulls, the next he would be reciting Aristotle from memory or giving a dissertation on mathematics. Such feats were quick to impress the young ladies in and around Ostia. In particular, young Camilla, whom Artorius had had a crush on since he was old enough to take an interest in the opposite sex. She had always been there for him in his darkest days, and the two became inseparable.
On mathematics, Artorius was always bested by his friend and sometimes mentor, Pontius Pilate. Pilate, a few years older than Artorius, had already gone off to join the Twentieth Legion, Valeria. A member of the patrician class, Pilate had been given an appointment as a military tribune, a rank that Artorius knew he would never see. Word also had it that his skill in mathematics and the principles of trajectory had earned him a place as the legion’s chief of artillery.
Aside from having to deal with asking for his father’s endorsement, he also had to break the news to Camilla. She and Artorius had grown very fond of each other as of late, and he knew that his leaving to go to war on the Rhine would break her heart. He gave a sad, audible sigh as he thought about that.
Artorius arrived at Juliana’s small cottage. Her husband had died of a mysterious illness that swept through the countryside, and her daughter died giving birth to her grandson around the same time as Persephone’s death. Sadly, the infant also perished. Juliana’s son-in-law thought the family to be cursed and abandoned her. She had been left alone in the world. Primus and Artorius took pity on her and strengthened their friendship with her. Though she never tried to replace Persephone, in many ways she became the mother figure that Artorius lacked.
Juliana was working outside in her small garden when Artorius showed up. She was still a very striking woman, maybe a couple years older than his father. Primus spent many days at Juliana’s, and Artorius was growing impatient with his father for not taking his relationship with her further.
She looked up from her gardening when she heard him approaching and smiled at him. “Hello, Artorius.”
“Beautiful morning,” he replied.
“Your father’s just left,” she told him.
“I know. But I did not come looking for him, at least not yet.”
“I see,” she said, still smiling. “You’ve got another dilemma that you have to discuss with your father, and you don’t know how to do it.”
He hung his head sheepishly. She set down her gardening tools and motioned towards a bench.
“Let’s not waste the day. Come sit down and let’s discuss what ails you. Wine?” she asked him.
“Yes, please,” he answered.
After serving the wine, she sat on a bench across from him, her chin on her hand, that smile never leaving her face. How had his father not fallen in love with that smile?
He took a long draught of wine before starting. “You know today is my seventeenth birthday. I am now of age and eligible to join the army. I need Father to write me a letter of introduction that I can take to the recruiting station. Without proof of citizenship, I cannot hope to join. I am not certain how to tell him of my intentions.”
“He already knows,” Juliana said, her expression unchanging.
Artorius was dumbfounded, “What do you mean he knows?”
Juliana stifled a laugh. “My dear Artorius. Do you really think you could hide such a thing from him? He is your father, after all. He’s known of your intentions for six years. He could read it in your face. He could see it in your eyes. He could see it in how you continued to study the campaigns of Scipio, Marius, and Caesar into the late hours of the night.” She was no longer smiling. “You know he came to me last night to discuss this very thing. He didn’t leave until just a little while ago.”
“I knew he didn’t come home last night,” Artorius said. “I just figured maybe you two were…” he stopped and looked away, realizing what he had almost said.
Juliana burst out laughing. “Gods have mercy! You really thought we were…”“Well, he was gone all night.” Artorius’ face was completely flushed. “I’ve wanted to tell him for years that you are the best thing to come into his life since Mother died. And that he was a fool if he didn’t, you know, make something more of it.”
Juliana looked at him with much affection in her eyes. “You know that I do love your father dearly. He was there when everyone else abandoned me. He gave me life.” She paused for a moment. “But I never tried to take it any further. I may have been alone, but he still had you. I could not bring myself to try and replace your mother.” She looked away.