Artorius saw one German directly to his front, carrying a club and shield. The man had just turned his head to see what was happening to his friends behind him when Artorius slammed his shield boss into his face. The German was knocked to the ground, senseless. A quick stab from his gladius into the man’s heart ended it. There was the familiar feeling of warm blood spurting onto his hand. With his hand practically numb from the cold, the warming sensation felt good, and he held his hand in place for a moment. As Artorius withdrew his gladius, the remaining Germans had panicked and were running back the way they had come, dropping their torches as they did so. The sun was starting to rise and was shining in their faces. They were unable to make out the line of cavalry that was riding towards them, cutting off their escape. Only a small handful managed to abscond the slaughter.
Artorius wiped the blade of his gladius off in the snow. His hand was still covered in warm blood, which he attempted to wash off in the snow as well. The adrenaline rush from the skirmish was starting to fade, and he was once again growing cold. He searched for his javelin and was shocked when he saw one buried directly in the eye socket of a slain warrior. He had no way of knowing whether or not it was the one he had thrown, but he wouldn’t have been surprised. He had, after all, thrown it directly at the torchlight he had seen. Regardless, he tore the javelin loose and walked back to where he dropped his cloak.
“Everyone alright?” Macro called down the ranks.
Artorius felt Statorius smack him across the back.
“Artorius, you alright?” the decanus asked.
“I’m fine,” Artorius answered as he draped his cloak over his shoulders.
Statorius walked up to all of his men, checking each in turn before reporting to the centurion that everyone was alright. No losses had been suffered by either century. It had been a textbook ambush and had been executed perfectly. A detail was sent to cut the throats of all the barbarians still alive. The corpses were left where they had fallen. As they fell back into formation and marched back to the fortress, Artorius longed for the warmth of the bathhouse. Along with the warmth for his body, he would be glad to thoroughly wash his hand, where the blood had cooled and started to dry and flake off.
Proculus was waiting for them at the gate as they marched in. The cavalry had already reported back the success of the ambush.
He clasped the hands of both Macro and Dominus. “Well done.”
The centurions all walked towards the cohort commander’s quarters while options briefed the legionaries and dismissed them. Valgus had not been replaced yet, so Flaccus was filling in temporarily.
“Sergeant Vitruvius!” he called out.
Vitruvius stepped out from the formation and stood in front of the tesserarius. After a few whispered words between the men, Flaccus turned and left. Vitruvius then faced the century.
“Well done, men,” he said. “Go get yourselves warmed up and then check and clean your equipment. All section leaders will report to me once everything has been inspected and stowed. After that, you are released for the day.”
This elicited a series of shouts and cheers from the century.
“What was that all about?” Gavius asked as the section headed towards their billets.
“I don’t know,” Praxus answered. “It does seem a bit odd that Flaccus would defer to Vitruvius to address the century.”
“I wonder if this means Flaccus is not to become our next optio,” Artorius wondered aloud.
Proculus handed Dominus and Macro each a goblet of warm cider. Macro clutched the goblet, allowing its warmth to penetrate his frozen hands.
“A classic and well executed ambush,” Proculus said as he raised his goblet to his fellow centurions. “How many of the bastards did you net?”
“We counted approximately sixty corpses in the immediate vicinity of the ambush,” Macro answered as he took a seat.
Dominus greedily downed his beverage and waved a servant over to refill his cup.
“The cavalry reported an additional thirty slain during the pursuit,” Proculus added, leaning back in his own chair.
“Well, that’s almost half of what we estimate had been there,” Dominus remarked.
“More importantly, neither of you suffered any losses,” Proculus observed. “I know we took a risk in sending you out like that, especially at night and under these conditions. It was a difficult task, and you performed it well.”
“I wouldn’t say it was difficult,” Dominus answered. “I just froze my backside off is all; and maybe my front side, too, from all that laying in the snow and slushy mud”.
“Doubtless the barbarians will be ready for us next time,” Macro remarked.
“I kind of doubt it,” Proculus replied. “These roving bands lack central organization. Given the careless and haphazard nature of their attempted raids, I don’t think Arminius ordered them to cross the river to try and harass our boat making efforts. He knows the risks and the potential loss of life. It’s just not a productive use of his resources. No, these men acted on their own, and it cost them. I highly doubt they will be back anytime soon. Besides, the ramparts leading down to the docks have been completed, so our boats are relatively safe. Therefore, all future ambushes are cancelled.”
Dominus and Macro both breathed sighs of relief.
Proculus smiled at their reaction. “I didn’t think you men would be too terribly disappointed. I also want you to suspend all work details for the next two days. Let your men know they performed well, and that they deserve a couple of days off.”
“That’ll give them a chance to get the feeling back in their limbs,” Macro observed as he tried to work some feeling back into his own hands.
“You know, if the Germans were smart, they would try and draw us out during the winter,” Dominus remarked.
Proculus frowned and nodded at the remark.
“Too true,” he replied. “They are much better suited to this climate than we are. Even our men who’ve been on the frontier for a long time have never gotten used to this accursed weather. Thing is, they lack any kind of supply system. There is no way they could keep any sizable army fed and supplied during the winter months.”
“Thank the gods for that,” Macro replied as he raised his glass.
“So have you chosen your new optio?” Proculus asked, changing the subject.
“I have,” Macro answered. “I have a sergeant, who’s also my chief weapons instructor.”
Dominus started to laugh. “You’re talking about Vitruvius, aren’t you?”
“He’s been trying to avoid getting promoted for years,” Macro continued. “But I’m not giving him a choice this time. He’s declined promotion enough times to satisfy his vanity. I feel it is time he started stepping up and we take a hard look at him in the future for further promotion.”
“You think he’ll be ready for the centurionate that quickly?” Proculus asked with a raised eyebrow.
Macro took another drink before answering. “I dare say he’s ready for it now. I think once Vitruvius stops obsessing about his role as chief weapons instructor, he will rise through the ranks rather quickly. I think he may even become a cohort commander one day.”
“Quite lofty expectations for one of your men who is still a decanus,” Dominus remarked.
“You know Vitruvius by reputation only,” Macro answered, “if you knew him as I do, you would not hesitate to agree.”
“That settles it then,” Proculus said, setting his cup down. “Get the orders drawn up and start putting him to work where he belongs.”
“Already been done,” Macro responded.
“I guess they won’t be attempting to mess with our boats anytime soon,” Magnus said as he and Artorius walked into the barracks. The bathhouse had been a blessing and thoroughly rejuvenated them, though Artorius still made a mad dash for his bunk and curled up under the warm blankets.