Soldier of Rome: The Sacrovir Revolt (The Artorian Chronicles) (5 page)

Artorius sat back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head.
“It will be welcome,” he agreed. “But why bother? No one can best you.”

The
centurion shook his head. “No, I’m done. It’s time I stepped aside.
You
had better be entering, though. You are a marked man. A number of the lads, especially those in the Third Cohort, think you are the one to beat.”

Artorius
folded his hands on his desk and contemplated this.

“
Really, Vitruvius?” he asked.

The
centurion was shocked at the sincerity in his young protégé’s voice. “Are you kidding me? There’s a reason why you’re a chief weapons instructor. Second,” he snorted, “and probably most important, you fought me to a draw. That’s never been done before. If you compete in this tournament, and I know you will, and lose, I will
have
to enter. If someone can best you, then he is the man that I’ve been looking for all these years; the one who is better than I am.” “That is quite an obsession you have,” Artorius replied. “It is almost as if you want to find someone that is better than you.”

“I’m not a god, Artorius,” Vitruvius
replied soberly. “No matter how good a man is, he is still just a man. And no man is invulnerable. I am beatable; you’ve proven that. It is time the name ‘Artorius’ was venerated as the master of close combat.” The centurion then rose to his feet, Artorius did the same.

“Anyway, just wanted to see how you’re assimilating. I know you have some new recruits that you will be working with soon. With your permission, I would like to observe their training with you. Oh, I know Macro will be there, but I want to see my former pupil as the master.”

With that, they clasped hands hard.

“It is a daunting responsibility I leave you with,” Vitruvius continued
. “However, I know our boys are in capable hands.” With that he left the room.

No sooner had Centurion Vitruvius walked out,
when Magnus rushed in, winded. “Artorius, Macro is calling for all section leaders immediately! There’s been a terrible tragedy.” “What is it?” Artorius asked as he rushed for the door.

Magnus’
face was grim. He took a deep breath and fought to keep his voice from shaking. “Germanicus is dead.”

Chapter II:
A Son of Rome Mourned

***

Macro stood behind his desk. Flaccus, Camillus
, and Statorius stood behind him, all looking grim. Even Camillus had lost his perpetually cheerful nature. The signifier then sat down in a chair, his head lowered, and hands in his hair. Germanicus was greatly revered by the legionaries even after he left the Rhine Army for the east. Even though many of the men had never met him personally, they still bore the same honor and affection that they would for their own fathers. Those who met him remembered the occasions fondly.

Indeed, Germanicus had looked after his men as a father would his sons. His tactical savvy was unparalleled, and his personal valor in battle had been an inspiration. Like Tiberius before him, Germanicus never led from the behind the army. To him, his life was no more important than that of his lowest
legionaries, and if they were in danger, so was he. His concern for their welfare had been genuine, and he had always made it a point to meet with individual soldiers. When he spoke to his legionaries, he spoke to them as men, with dignity and respect. His loss would shake the Rhine Legions to their very foundations.

Artorius was among the last of the section leaders to arrive.
Many were talking excitedly. Germanicus’ death could very easily cause a serious disruption within the legion, which would, in turn, lead to civil unrest within the province.

“At ease!”
Optio Flaccus shouted.

I
mmediately there was silence.

Centurion Macro then spoke.
“Before we start letting rumor and emotions run rampant throughout the ranks, we need to make certain that we deal strictly with the facts of the matter. We have just learned our former commander, Germanicus Caesar, is now dead.” His voice was cold and distant, his emotions blunted by the tragedy. “Given his age and the fact that he was in prime health, rumors of murder are spreading like wildfire. The gossips have even conspired to implicate the Emperor in this affair. Let it be known that we will not tolerate such talk from amongst our men! Tiberius has many enemies in Rome, enemies that will do anything to slander his name. Yet we must not forget the real man, who led us on this very frontier before becoming Emperor of the Roman Empire; a task, I may add, he never wanted.”

Macro was an impassioned supporter of the Emperor, especially since he had been one of the
soldiers welcomed back into the army by Tiberius himself after the Teutoburger Wald disaster.

“As for the talk of murder,” he continued, “there is already a suspect in custody at this time. Some of you may have heard of Gnaius Calpurnius Piso, the former
governor in the east. He is the primary suspect, along with his wife, Plancina. Let our men know that while we all mourn the loss of a Son-of-Rome, we do not seek to meet out our own form of justice. Let the courts in Rome decide Piso’s fate!

“More importantly, if there are dissidents amongst the provinces, they will see the death of Germanicus, along with the Emperor’s implications
, to be a sign of weakness. We dishonor Germanicus if we allow ourselves to fall into disarray, to forget ourselves as Romans and as legionaries. To allow calamity to fall upon the province will undo everything he fought for. Make certain your men understand this. That is all.”

With that, the host of men who led the
century dispersed.

Artorius returned to his section’s barrack to see that all of his men were gathered around, talking very fast. They s
topped when they saw him enter.

“What’s happened
?” Decimus asked.

“We’ve heard awful rumors, rumors that we cannot believe to be true,
” Gavius added.

“
I know,” Artorius replied and took a deep breath. “Sit down, men.” Here was his first challenge as a leader of legionaries. Very carefully he explained everything that Macro had said, emphasizing the need to remain focused on their own section of the Empire and not to be distracted by events in Rome which they could not control.

“Piso,” Carbo muttered. “I wish I could gut the bastard myself!”

“Well, you can’t,” Magnus retorted. “Artorius is right; the only way we can do right by Germanicus is to continue as he would have wanted us to.” He looked to Artorius who nodded his assent, thankful for the support from his friend.

“Still, can you even believe the talk of the Emperor himself being involv
ed?” Valens added in disgust. “It makes no sense.”

Decimus leaned back onto his elbows on his bunk and shook his head.

“Absolutely not,” he replied. “If Tiberius ever saw Germanicus as a threat, he would have realized otherwise after the mutiny on the Rhine when there were those who tried to make him Emperor. He was loyal, and Tiberius knew it.”

“Just doesn’t make any sense,” Valens
repeated. “I can’t believe that so many in Rome would see Tiberius as having ordered Germanicus’ demise.”

“And yet
, that is probably what history will remember,” Carbo added. “Historians are fickle, and they like a good story of murder and deceit. They will leach off the rumors and gossip about Tiberius like fucking locusts.” His voice rose as he spoke.

“Easy
, Carbo,” Artorius said. “We cannot be putting faith in the gossips and slanderers back home. If we do, there will be anarchy and chaos at every change in the winds.
We are better than that.
If historians choose to condemn Tiberius, posterity will be betrayed.” Artorius stood and looked each man in the eye. “But know that I will not tolerate any mention of the Emperor’s name as a suspect in this affair!” It was the first time he asserted his authority over his men.

Magnus leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs and interlocking his fingers.
“You don’t have to worry about that from us, Artorius,” he said quietly, his Nordic blue eyes taking in the slightly nervous glances from the others. “We know our job, and we know where our loyalties lie. Ultimately, they lie with the State and with the Emperor. And at the end of the line, they lie with you.”

The rest of the section nodded in agreement.

“You can count on us,” Decimus added.

Artorius gave a tight-lipped smile
and nodded in acknowledgement. When he was at last alone, he sighed in relief. He had his men’s trust and loyalty. The first test was over.

Livia sat in the dark, resting the side of her head on her hand. A true stoic, she betrayed no public emotions when the news of Germanicus’ death broke.
But alone in the dark, she allowed the tears to fall. She privately mourned the loss of her grandson. What wounded her most were the slanders that implicated her and the Emperor as accomplices to his murder. Though Livia was a hard-hearted woman, she was not so callous as to have wished for the death of her own blood. And yet, because she had not allowed herself to become a weeping, wailing spectacle in public, she was scorned and looked upon with suspicious eyes.

She was taken back to years before when Germanicus’ father, Drusus
, died while on campaign in Germania. She had also been inconsolable then, yet never did she betray her emotions publicly. Tiberius had scorned her for her lack of grief. As if he knew what it was like to bury a child! At least then she had had Augustus to turn to, she thought with a sigh. Long into the nights he would hold her close as she sobbed uncontrollably, her heart torn asunder. But Augustus was gone as well, taken to the halls of the gods six years before. Livia Augusta was alone in her grief.

Her remaining son,
Tiberius Caesar, Emperor of Rome, would be little to no comfort to her. She knew that he, too, mourned the loss of an able commander and loyal son. In addition to being his nephew by blood, Germanicus had been adopted by the Emperor. Many would say he had Germanicus removed to clear the way for his own son to succeed him to the imperial throne. For that had been a condition set by Augustus, that Tiberius would adopt Germanicus as his own son and give him precedence in the succession. Germanicus had been related to Augustus by blood, whereas Drusus, the younger, was not.

The noti
on of altering the imperial succession through murder was preposterous to Tiberius, for he was free to choose whomever he wished to follow him. With Augustus gone, the Senate dared not oppose him at anything he set his mind to. A stroke of the pen would have placed Drusus over Germanicus as heir to the Empire, and yet he left the succession intact.

Tiberius’ focus
through his grief would now be on clearing of his own name, an impossible task in Livia’s mind. As much as he tried, Tiberius had none of his brother’s charm or political sense. His callous demeanor was always making him enemies. She sensed that no matter what happened, even after Piso was tried and executed, Tiberius would forever be slandered by the ignominy of Germanicus’ murder, and she with him.

Livia saw the death of Germanicus as further proof that the Julio-Claudians were a cursed family, one that the
fates took distinct pleasure in tormenting. Of her sons, Drusus, though infatuated with that archaic Republic, was the one universally adored by the people; and he had died before his thirtieth birthday. Tiberius may have once been loved by the legions, but even that was questionable now. To say nothing of the spite he garnered from the Senate. Of Drusus’ sons, Germanicus had been the strong one who bore all of his father’s most desirable traits; military skill, political savvy, and a love of the plebs. He had succumbed at the young age of thirty-four. That only left Claudius, the stuttering, half-crippled imbecile who should have never seen his first birthday. Livia could never fathom how Drusus could have sired such a wretch. She blamed it on Drusus’ insistence that his wife, Antonia, accompany him on every campaign, even when pregnant. Surely the rough life had stunted the lad’s development from the womb.

Livia sighed once more. Drusus
, the younger, was the only hope left for the Julio-Claudians. He was Tiberius’ only son and the only grandchild of Livia worthy of his heritage. He was also all that stood between the Emperor and his scheming Praetorian Prefect, Sejanus. As part of the prosecution against Piso, Drusus could be the key to helping Tiberius separate himself from the accused murderer of Germanicus.

Unfortunately for Tiberius, his name was too closely attached to Piso’s. It was conveniently forgotten that Piso had first been appointed by, and been a close friend of, Augustus himself. And while Piso had been a friend to Tiberius, there was no doubt as to his guilt. He had even gone so far as to try and reassert his authority as soon as Germanicus was dead, inciting a rebellion against the newly appointed legate who replaced him. Roman soldiers died as a result, and Piso would be condemned in their deaths as well. In order to save himself, Tiberius would have to allow Piso to be sacrificed. If not, the stain on his name and character would be irreparable.

The Emperor
listened to the howling mob outside the palace. Two cohorts of Praetorian guards had been dispatched to secure the grounds, lest the crowd become violent. The Emperor was most disturbed by the events of late. It seemed as if the gods were mocking him, forcing him to become so stern and alienating towards his own people, not even allowing him to properly mourn the loss of his nephew and adopted son. What was worse, it was members of his family who exacerbated the situation. Germanicus’ widow, Agrippina, was especially maddening to deal with. She was the source of many of the rumors regarding his involvement in Germanicus’ murder. Tiberius scoffed at the notion. If Germanicus had been a threat, he would have crushed him years before, and without having to resort to petty murder.

Sejanus stood patiently with his hands behind his back. The Praetorian
prefect was becoming more and more useful to the Emperor. It seemed like he had the solution to everything that vexed him. If only his son, Drusus, were half as helpful! Drusus was steadfast friends with Agrippina, something the Emperor had never fully come to accept.

“You’ll have to give him up,” Sejanus said coolly, referring to Piso.

Tiberius turned and faced him.

“I know. Piso has been a loyal friend for many years, both to me, as well as the Divine Augustus. What vexes me is that he has the audacity to implicate me in his scheme to overthrow Germanicus, as if I endorsed his plans of sedition and murder. I would have settled for banishing him had he not tried to save his own skin by bringing me down with him.” The Emperor’s voice drifted off and the mob outside could be heard growing louder.