Artorius took her hand in his. “You’ve been as much of a mother and a friend as anyone could hope for. Your love and understanding have always been without question.”
She reached up, touched the side of his face, and then kissed him on the cheek. There was a tear in her eye. She took a deep breath and wiped her tear away. “Now we need to deal with the dilemma with your father. You know that he already knows of your intentions, so just go and ask him. He’s very protective of you, Artorius, but he knows what is in your heart and that you will not be dissuaded. So just ask him.”
Artorius smiled, kissed her hand, and turned to leave. “Thank you,” he said. “You always have the simplest, and yet the best, answers.” With that he left.
Juliana smiled and turned back towards her garden. “And so, young Artorius, you begin your new life as a man.”
Artorius decided to make one final stop on his way home. He found Camilla pacing back and forth amongst the trees outside her family’s home. She was just a year younger than Artorius, and he had been infatuated with her since they were small children. Camilla was petite in stature, a good half-foot shorter than Artorius, though very athletically inclined. As the youngest of four daughters and three sons, thoughts of her potential marriage were almost an afterthought to her parents. This left the way open for her and Artorius, though he knew that if he left to join the legions, any chance of a union between them would have to be placed on hold for a very long time. Would she wait for him?
“I knew this day would come,” Camilla said as he approached. Her back was to him, her arms folded across her chest. “You’ll be leaving to join the legions, to share the same fate as your brother.”
Her cold words struck Artorius hard. Of course, she had always known of his intentions; however, up until this point, she had always spoken well of it. She’d said how brave and noble it was for him to do.
“How can you say such a thing?” he asked as he walked up and put his hands on her shoulders.
She turned to face him, arms still folded, tears in her eyes.
“I will return. You must know this.”
“All I know,” Camilla answered as her voice broke, “is that your hatred and desire for vengeance is stronger than any love you may bear for me.” She broke down and wept, her head on his chest, hands clinging to the back of his tunic tightly. “I’m so afraid for you. Those aren’t even men that you will face on the frontier; they are animals… savage, brutal, disgusting animals.”
“Yes, they are,” he replied as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “They killed my brother and drove my mother to her death. Don’t you see? If I don’t do something, then I will never be at peace. I cannot let such abominations go unpunished.”
Camilla leaned back and placed both of her hands on the sides of his head. “Just promise me that you’ll write, and that you will come back to me alive,” she managed to say through her tears. “I cannot imagine losing you. Since we were children, I have always felt that my place was with you.” With that she kissed him very tenderly, turned, and walked away.
Though his heart ached, deep inside he felt as if his saying goodbye to Camilla was little more than a formality. He would keep his promise and write to her, of course. Yet in the back of his mind, he sensed that she would not wait for him. He hoped he was wrong. As he walked away a sudden feeling of dread came over him; a feeling of foreboding, that he would come to regret leaving her.
Tiberius was Emperor at last. After having spent his entire adult life in service to Rome, he now possessed ultimate power over her. Though publicly he considered himself to be little more than the senior member and representative of the Senate of Rome, in reality he was sole ruler of the known world. When Augustus died the year before, he took the reins of power with great reluctance. Now he had no choice but to leave the war on the Rhine in the hands of Germanicus. While the campaigns against Arminius were by far the most important issues to be dealt with, they certainly were not the only ones. The task of effectively administering an empire was staggering. Tiberius wondered how Augustus had done it for more than forty years. The deceased and now deified Augustus had lingered for almost a year after Tiberius’ recall to Rome. Only when he felt secure in the knowledge that Rome was left in capable hands did he finally allow himself to pass into eternity.
Shortly following the death of Augustus, Tiberius’ chief rival, Posthumous Agrippa, met his end. Even when in exile, he had been viewed as a potential threat, having been the sole surviving natural grandson of Augustus. Though he had not given the order, and was as surprised as any when he was informed of the young man’s execution, Tiberius could not help but feel a sense of relief. Posthumous himself could have personally done little from his remote island prison; however, there were plenty who would gladly usurp the current Emperor in favor of someone of Augustus’ own bloodline.
The Emperor sat behind a desk, poring over documents and protocols requiring his attention. He looked down at his hands and forearms. There was still a lot of strength left in them. Some senior centurions managed to stay in the army past his age. Suddenly, he envied them. They, at least, were where the action was, out on the line. Were it up to him, Tiberius would still have been there with them. Such was not the case. As much as he loved the life of the legions, he had to admit when it was time to pass the reins off to the next generation.
The door opened and Livia walked in. Tiberius sighed without having looked up from his work. His mother was the only person who would dare enter without so much as knocking. Even his son, Drusus, only entered with his expressed permission.
“What is it, Mother?” he asked, pretending to be deep in concentration. “I’m rather busy today.”
“Oh, and is it my son who greets me so warmly today?” Livia asked sarcastically. The widow of Augustus and mother to the present Emperor was a Roman matron of all the old virtues. In spite of the fact that she was a woman, Livia considered herself to be a servant of Rome. Many claimed that while Augustus ruled the world, she ruled him. Such was not the case with her son. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten who helped you to become Emperor in the first place.”
Tiberius slammed his stylus down onto the table. “Yes, and thank you so much for reminding me of the hateful predicament you put me in.” He hated admitting it, yet it was true. Had it not been for Livia’s profound influence over Augustus, one of a dozen other potentials would have become Emperor instead of him. There were many days when he wished one of them had. “Augustus told me that my succession was decreed by the gods. In reality, it was decreed by Livia.”
His mother ignored the remark. Never one to waste words, Livia immediately set about discussing business. “Your nephew sends word from the Rhine. He asks that you send him someone to help in the administrative details concerning the enormous army he now finds himself in charge of.”
Tiberius threw his hands up in the air. “By the Divine Augustus, how is it you manage to know what’s happening on the frontiers before I’ve even read the dispatches?”
Livia only smiled wryly at the comment. Her network of gathering information amazed even herself sometimes.
“I have my sources. Besides, I know that while very much capable, Germanicus cannot run the campaigns on the Rhine alone. No doubt you heard about the mutiny he had to squash the moment you left.”
“Yes, of course,” Tiberius answered, picking up his stylus and continuing to work.
“It would seem like you left him a handful to deal with. And I’m not just talking about the Germanic tribes he still needs to suppress.” Livia was always overly critical of her son’s administrative decisions. The only thing harder than living up to the expectations of Augustus was living up to the expectations of his own mother.