“Murderer!” he screamed, pointing towards Artorius who raised his eyebrows.
“Who in the bloody hell…” Macro began when Ietano stepped in front of the raging warrior putting himself between the enraged warrior and Artorius.
“No, Thrax! This is not the way; we are no longer at war with Rome!”
“To hell with Rome!” Thrax spat. “My sister and her children died at his hands! They had no part in that war!”
“What in the name of Mercury is this man ranting about?” Macro sighed, exasperated. He secured the information they came for, and he wanted to leave.
The barbarians’ stink carried on the wind. Unfortunately, the legion was downwind.
Thrax’s outburst caused a stir amongst the warriors, and suddenly Macro found himself wishing Proculus had not left them there.
“This bastard ran his sword through my sister! He murdered her children!”
“Instead of fighting, like the rest of the warriors in your tribe,” Artorius replied calmly, “you hid like a scared little girl?” Then he bit his tongue. Nice going, Artorius, he said to himself. That’s just going to make things worse.
Thrax screamed in rage and tried to push his way past Ietano, who stood fast in his way. The warrior was a big man, taller than Artorius by a few inches, though leaner in physique. A great two-handed sword was strapped to his otherwise bare back. The sergeant looked over at his centurion, who gave a curt nod. Artorius steeled himself to fight the enraged German.
“If your man is so bent on destroying me, he can have me.” Artorius planted his javelin in the ground and stepped out from the formation.
Ietano still did not move out of the way.
“I think it is only fair, and in the spirit of your people’s warrior traditions, that these two men be allowed to settle their differences,” Macro observed, his arms folded across his chest.
Ietano shook his head.
“This is not the way to keep peace with Rome,” he replied.
“Kill him and cut out his heart, Thrax!” a young boy shouted as he pushed his way to the front of the crowd. No older than twelve, he carried a spear and shield tailored for his size.
Artorius snorted in contempt. “Your grievance with me is about your sister and her children yet you also send children to their deaths?” He paused and continued, “That is not the Roman way.”
“That will do, sergeant.” Macro said quietly, privately pleased with Artorius’ daring remark.
At Ietano’s command, a few other warriors surrounded Thrax and half pushed, half dragged him to the back of the crowd. He raised his voice so that all could hear him, “This is not the way!”
Artorius let out a deep breath. It wasn’t that he was afraid to fight, he was confident his greater bulk and skill could take down the berserker, but he was concerned about the retributions, even though he didn’t start it.
To everyone’s surprise the boy shouted and charged Artorius, who neatly stepped aside and tripped the youth. Spear and shield flew out of his hands when he hit the ground. Quickly Artorius straddled the boy and closed his hand around the small neck. Not enough to hurt more than bruises, but enough to make it clear he could snap the boy’s neck at will.
“I am a soldier of Rome,” he hissed. “My battle is not against children, although I will kill them if ordered.”
The boy’s eyes were wide with fear.
A warrior who appeared to be the boy’s older brother stepped forward. “Please let him go. He is young and should not be here.”
Artorius nodded and stood. The boy allowed himself to be led away.
Macro cleared his throat and broke the awkward silence. “Let us consider this matter to be resolved. Understand that any further acts of violence will be perceived as open war against Rome Herself. I am certain you understand full well the consequences of this.” He glared at Ietano and the other elders to let the words sink in.
The German chief was breathing hard through his nose, but eventually he raised his hand and waved his warriors off. He then stepped forward, face to face with Centurion Macro.
“I agree with your words. But take heed, Roman. There will never be true peace between our nations. We will always be in the background of your thoughts and nightmares, watching, waiting. Maybe not in my lifetime, but one day Rome will all.”
“You will always be a scourge to us, I have no doubt,” Macro replied, dryly. “Take heed and realize that any such attempts against the might of Rome will end in fire and blood, as you are all too familiar. Good day.” With that he turned his back on the chieftain, an insult not lost on Ietano, and ended their meeting.
Artorius watched as Ietano started to wave his warriors back towards the village.
“Think they will try anything?” Flaccus asked Macro as the century marched away.
“I don’t know,” Macro replied. “I doubt if that chief has any real fight left in him. However, the warriors look like they still have plenty. It comes down to how much control he has over them. We will take no chances.”
“Understood,” Flaccus replied.
The court was crammed with people. The Emperor sat at the head of the chamber, on a raised platform. He appeared nonchalant, but he stewed inside. He made it a point to not talk with Piso in private. Any private discussions between them would be perceived as some kind of negotiation. Senators sat on benches on either side of the Emperor. They came to bear judgment in conjunction with the Emperor, who would pass any necessary sentence.
Piso, his wife, and son sat behind a table surrounded by his defense counsel. The table occupied by the prosecution was crowded, to say the least. Four prosecutors, Germanicus’ widow, Agrippina, his brother, Claudius, and the Emperor’s own son, Drusus, sat together. At length, the prosecutor, Vitellius stood to address the Senate and Emperor.
“Caesar, members of the Senate, I come before you today to bear witness against Cnaeus Calpurnius Piso, a man who has sought to further his own interests through sedition, rebellion, and even murder. Not only have his acts disrupted already troubled provinces, but the murder of the Emperor’s own adopted son, Germanicus Caesar, has deprived Rome of one of her greatest and most competent statesman.
“On the charge of sedition, I give you the following. That while en route to Syria, Piso did needlessly rouse the anger of the citizens of Athens with his volatile and hostile speech. And when ordered by his senior, Germanicus, to send troops to aid him in his Armenia campaign, Piso blatantly refused to do so. Were it not for the competent generalship and diplomacy of Germanicus, the entire province could have been lost. Piso even went so far as to lavish gifts upon the most insolent and unsavory of troops in the province, seeking to gain their favor. Those with distinguished records and superior conduct, he either ignored or treated with disdain out of their allegiance to Germanicus, and therefore the Emperor! And when Germanicus fell ill, he accused Piso by name of having been attempting to poison him. On his temporary recovery, the people of the east rejoiced. Piso had the audacity to send attendants to disperse them in Antioch!” Vitellius paused briefly. Piso was fidgeting in his chair. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and swallowed hard. Vitellius continued:
“On the charge of rebellion, of which his son, Cneius, is also accused,” Plancina quietly wept at this, “Germanicus ordered Piso out of Syria, which he only complied with reluctantly. Upon Germanicus’ death, Piso immediately returned to Syria, in spite of the Legate Sentius having been lawfully appointed in his place. Piso then took the town of Celenderis for himself and even engaged Sentius in open battle. Amongst the charges of rebellion, I recommend that Piso be held liable for the death of every Roman soldier who perished in his pursuit of vain glory!”