Soldier of Rome: The Sacrovir Revolt (The Artorian Chronicles) (20 page)

“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.

Pilate
struck a sober tone and stood up, his wine glass raised, while Praxus and Valens helped prop him up.  “To the Emperor, the Senate, and the people of Rome,” he slurred as the legionaries raised their glasses.  “And most importantly to
you
, my brothers in the Twentieth Legion.
Valeria!”

“Valeria!”
the host of men answered. All quaffed their wine as a procurer and a group of fetching and elaborately dressed young women entered.

“Ah, here we are then!”
Magnus said gleefully as he stepped gingerly down the steps and over to the procurer, a pouch of coins in his hand.

“
Sir, make us proud!” a legionary shouted to Pilate, who put his arm around Artorius. The young decanus propped him up.

“If you forget how it’s supposed to work, just watch
me and do what I do,” he whispered into Pilate’s ear. 

The next morning Artorius came to the main gate to see his old friend off. There was quite the caravan of baggage carts, slaves, livestock, and various hangers-on. He had forgotten just how large the retinue of a tribune was. There was a body slave, an auger, two footmen, a cook, steward, and a young woman that Artorius was not certain as to whether or not she served a function or was merely for decoration. Pilate rode up cautiously on his horse. He looked to be severely hung over, something that made Artorius laugh to himself.

“How’s your head this morning?” he asked.

Pilate simply shrugged.

“Head hurts but my cock is sufficiently drained, so all is good. Tell me, do you always bite the young ladies on the neck?”

It was Artorius’ turn to shrug.
“Sometimes,” he replied casually. “Hmm, leaving your mark I suppose.” Pilate said lightly, and then became somber. He stared at Artorius before addressing him again. “I’ll not forget you. I hope that if I ever need strong leaders at my side, you will not hesitate to heed my call.”

“
I will always heed your call,” Artorius replied. “Just do not hesitate to ask.”

Pilate smiled and nodded in reply.
“I got a letter today from another old school friend of ours.  You remember Justus Longinus?” “Yes, I remember him,” Artorius nodded.

“
He’s now an optio with the Sixth Legion, Ferrata, stationed near Caesarea on the Syrian-Judean border. At any rate, he’s been doing some type of liaison duty with the Praetorians and the city’s urban cohorts, and he’ll be in Rome for about another year. At least now I know I won’t be totally devoid of friends!”

Artorius
smiled and then snapped to attention and saluted his childhood friend; a friend who had served with him in battle, through triumph and tragedy. Pilate returned the salute and signaled for the caravan to move out. As he rode out, he called out to Artorius over his shoulder. “I’ll be sure to check on your father . . . as often as he’ll tolerate my company!”

Calvinus and the
centurions leading the expedition had been voicing their concerns regarding Sacrovir to each other. Vitruvius found the situation to be rather amusing, given his history with the gladiator trainer. The men were on edge. This would be the first real action any of them had seen since the Arminius campaigns. Granted, it was all centurions leading the expedition; no legates with worries about political benefits or repercussions, nor would there be any of the inexperienced, and thereby incessantly irritating, tribunes getting in the way.

“Looking forward to meeting your old friend once again, Vitruvius?”
Centurion Dominus asked sarcastically.

Vitruvius only snorted at the mock question.

“To tell the truth, I’m wondering whether or not Vitruvius should be taking part in parlay with Sacrovir,” commented Cordus, Commander of the Ninth Cohort.