“I have much to get done if I am to enjoy the rest of this day,” Farquhar replied. “My father has high expectations of me, and I would hate to let him down.”
“Your father has high expectations of both of us,” she whispered into his ear. “Oh, I wish we didn’t have to wait to be married!”
“Soon, my love, it will happen soon enough. I will be finished with my studies within the next year, I will be able to start my own business, and then we can marry!”
Kiana smiled. She truly did love Farquhar and could not imagine her life without him. Being betrothed to him was a matter of course; she was relieved she had grown to love him as time went by.
“I promise to be a good wife. . and a mother.” She blushed as she spoke.
Just then, Farquhar’s friend Alasdair came running up the stairs.
“Farquhar, you are not going to believe this…oh, hi, Kiana.” He was short of breath and obviously excited. “You are not going to believe what has happened. The Andecavi and Turani have revolted!”
Farquhar immediately released Kiana and turned to his friend.
“Revolted?” he asked.
“They threw the Roman magistrates out of their lands and have declared themselves free and independent from Rome! Isn’t it marvelous?” Alasdair was of the Andecavi, so the news struck very close to home for him.
Farquhar and Kiana were of the Sequani, one of the tribes who fought Julius Caesar to the last. While Farquhar was proud of his warrior heritage, he knew full-well from the stories of his grandfather the wrath and devastation the Romans were capable of unleashing.
“This is not good,” he said as he shook his head.
Alasdair looked crestfallen.
“Oh, come on!” he retorted as he slapped his friend on the shoulder. “You are of the Sequani, man! You of all people should appreciate those who would look to liberate Gaul from the Roman oppressors.”
“The Romans have given our people much in the way of prosperity and wealth,” Kiana said as she sat back against the stone railing.
“At the cost of our freedom and heritage!” Alasdair spat.
Farquhar grabbed his friend by the shoulders.
“Alasdair, listen to me. I know this strikes close to you, because you are of the Andecavi. But no good can come from this. You know what the Romans were capable of during the time of that murderer Julius Caesar. They have grown stronger and more fearsome since then. The Rhine Army destroyed the forces of Arminius and practically exterminated the Cherusci nation. What makes you think they won’t smash right through your two tribes? The Roman Army is a juggernaut, it cannot be stopped. Our grandfathers were but children the last time Gauls tried taking arms up against Rome.”
“The Rhine Army is paralyzed,” Alasdair replied, his demeanor now calm. “The death of Germanicus and the implications of the Emperor in his murder will have immobilized the legions due to their grief. Word has it that they are only able to muster four cohorts with which to put down the rebellion. Can’t you see? Once these legionary forces are wiped out, the Emperor will have to sue for peace! The entire province will follow suit. And then…and then we will all be free.”
“The Romans have auxiliary forces in the region as well,” Farquhar observed.
Alasdair smiled and shook his head. “The Romans think they have auxiliaries in this area. Walk with me, my friend. We have much to talk about.” Alasdair put his arm around his friend’s shoulders and they walked off, talking in low voices.
Kiana stood with her arms folded, unable to hear their words.
“So the auxiliaries have turned against Rome?” Farquhar asked at length.
Alasdair nodded affirmatively.
“There has been talk, talk in high places, that the current rebellion is only the beginning. The auxiliaries, right now, are playing the loyal little lapdogs to Rome, but it is only a ruse.”
“How can you be certain?”
“I have friends, who have friends,” Alasdair replied with a coy smile on his face. “Trust me, sooner or later the rebellion will find its way here, and when it does, we must be ready.”
“Ready for what?” Farquhar was completely lost at this point. The entire concept of a province-wide rebellion seemed a bit too surreal for him.
Alasdair rolled his eyes. “We must be ready to fight, of course! Farquhar, we are the emerging leaders of this society, and of Gaul. Therefore, we must first and foremost set the example, inspire the people to reclaim their warrior heritage.” Farquhar looked to the heavens while he allowed everything to sink in. “Let us see what happens.”
The tavern was packed full of soldiers who wished to see off their favorite tribune. On the small stage where musicians often performed was a table where Pilate and a few of his closest friends sat; the same table where Artorius had been the guest of honor following his win at the Legion Champion Tournament. The tribune was already bleary-eyed from too much wine.
“A bit of a social faux pas, don’t you think?” Valens asked. “I mean, how often does a tribune, or any patrician for that matter, elect to have food and wine with the likes of us? Most view legionaries as mere insects!”
“Fuck…them,” Pilate spoke slowly, working to enunciate his words. “Men are men, regardless of social class. Only slaves should be treated as property, and even they must be cared for.”
“You always were one of the good guys, sir,” Praxus spoke as he placed his arm around the tribune’s shoulder, “a bit of an anomaly, perhaps, but still one of the good guys.”
Pontius Pilate was indeed an anomaly. Years ago, he should have been a magistrate, maybe even a governor. Instead, he had elected to remain with the legions, where he felt most alive. The more he grew attached to the men he served with, the more his peers and betters looked down on him. He had been promised to wed the lovely-and wealthy-Claudia Procula; though her family was beginning to question the wisdom of marrying off one of their most eligible daughters to a man who would rather live with mud-covered legionaries than advance his career and social status. Only the Emperor appreciated Pilate’s sense of devotion. Tiberius had often stated that he would much rather have remained with the legions until his dying days, often calling his time in uniform the best years of his life. In the end, even he had decided that the young knight needed to move on with his career. Sejanus took it upon himself to secure Pilate an appointment within the Praetorian Guard. Such a favor would certainly earn him Pilate’s gratitude and loyalty.
“I asked them to allow me one last march with you boys,” Pilate spoke, gazing into his wine glass. “Silius told me there would be no tribunes going on this one. Only four cohorts would be needed. He then chastised me for trying to stall on my appointment, and said that any delays would not bode well with Sejanus. Gods know I am going to get another earful when word gets out that I fraternized with the enlisted men!” He sighed deeply and took a long pull off his wine.
“If it’s any consolation,” Praxus said in an attempt to lighten the mood, “the lads took up a collection and bought you your choice of one of the most expensive prostitutes in this region. They should be here before too long for you to peruse.”
Pilate laughed out loud and put his arm around the legionary. “You men truly are friends,” he replied. He glanced over at Artorius. “Care to join me? I’m sure we can get one for you as well.” “Hey, Artorius can get his own tart!” Valens protested. “We paid for him to walk off with a saucy pair the last time!”
The decanus raised his eyebrow.
“No need to worry, Valens, I can indeed afford my own physical pleasures,” he replied. “If it will make the good tribune happy, then I can drop a few denarii so he doesn’t feel alone and intimidated.”
This caused a rambunctious cheer from the assembled legionaries.