Soldier of Rome: The Sacrovir Revolt (The Artorian Chronicles) (24 page)

Artorius saluted and then left.
He felt foolish for having so blatantly turned down the master centurion’s implied offer to act as his patron. Such sponsorship would almost guarantee his rise to optio and then to centurion, in short order. But he knew that his conscience would never have allowed it. He suspected Calvinus knew this as well. He sensed the master centurion was testing him. If so, then Artorius knew he had passed.

Piso was dead.
Tiberius’ heart was heavy when he received the news. Rather than allow the trial to run its course, he had elected to take his own life. Tiberius read the letter Piso left, addressed to him.

Crushed by a conspiracy of my foes, and the odium excited by a lying charge, since my truth and innocence find no place here, I call the immortal gods to witness that towards you, Caesar, I have lived loyally, and with like dutiful respect towards your mother. And I implore you to think of my children, one of whom, Cneius is in way implicated in my career, whatever it may have been, seeing that all this time he has been at Rome, while the other, Marcus Piso, dissuaded me from returning to Syria. Would that I had yielded to my young son rather than he to his aged father! And therefore, I pray the more earnestly that the innocent may not pay the penalty of my wickedness. By forty-five years of obedience, by my association with you in the consulate, as one who formerly won the esteem of the Divine Augustus, your father, as one who is your friend and will never hereafter ask a favor, I implore you to save my unhappy son.
2

“And yet not a word about his wife,” Sejanus noted.

Tiberius snorted.
“She abandoned him, in spite of saying that she would follow him to whatever end,” the Emperor replied.  “Now she goes to trial separately.  Livia has asked me to see to it that she is spared.” Sejanus raised an eyebrow. “Sparing the murderess of her own grandson?  That will induce the mob’s ravings even more so.” Tiberius shot an angry glare at his praetorian prefect. “If Livia has asked for Plancina’s life to be spared, then she has a reason for it.  Perhaps the wife and the sons were innocent after all.” “Forgive me, Caesar, if I have my doubts.”

Sejanus candor was a relief to Tiberius, even when it offended him.
  If only the Senate were made up of men who had the courage to tell their minds to the Emperor!

“The people are convinced of her guilt, I know this.
I have had my informants scribing notes on what the people are actually saying. The following speech was given in the forum just yesterday. Quite an eloquent speech, I must say. Shall I read it to you?”

Tiberius grimaced and nodded.

Sejanus then proceeded to read:

“So it was the duty of a
grandmother to look a grandson’s murderess in the face, to converse with her and rescue her from the Senate. What the laws secure on behalf of every citizen had to Germanicus alone been denied. The voices of a Vitellius and Veranius had bewailed a Caesar, while the emperor and Augusta had defended Plancina. She might as well now turn her poisonings, and her devices which had proved so successful, against Agrippina and her children, and thus sate this exemplary grandmother and uncle with the blood of a most unhappy house.”
3

He rolled up the scroll when he was done and looked at the Emperor expectantly.

A
half smirk crossed the Emperor’s face. “If Plancina were to turn her poisonings on Agrippina,” Tiberius stated coldly, “she may very well do the Empire a service.”

There would be no pacifying Agrippina.
Though Piso was dead, she incensed that Plancina and her son were to be spared. It further enraged her that all of Germanicus’ family and friends seemed pacified by this turn of events. Claudius’ attempts to soothe her only made it worse.

“You are a weak-minded fool!” she spat at him.

Claudius hung his head at the insult.
“You cannot know how much I loved my b-b-brother,” he replied in a soft voice.  “The m-man who murdered him is dead, as is the woman who executed the vile d-d-deed.  It may not be total justice, but it is something.”

“All of us loved Germanicus, and we still grieve for him
,” Herod added. “But that grief has not allowed us to be blinded by hate.”

“Oh
, I
see
,” Agrippina mocked. “So it is I who am blinded, not my stepfather’s Judean puppet!” She immediately regretted her rude words, and Claudius looked shocked, though Herod seemed unaffected by them.

“I’m sorry
, Herod,” she continued, her voice suddenly tired. “Please understand that I still do not hold the Emperor as completely blameless in this affair. I
worry
about my children. Tiberius swears he will look upon them as family, but does he? What will happen to them: Nero, Drusus, dear, little Gaius Caligula? Will he view them now as a threat to his own son, Drusus?”

“The children of Germanicus are no threat to me,” the elder Drusus stated as he walked into the room.
“Nor would my father have you think of them as such.”

“Your words are of some comfort,” Agrippina replied, trying to force a smile.
“But I know Tiberius is constantly falling under the spell of the vile praetorian, Sejanus. What will he have done with the sons of Germanicus?”

“I will handle Sejanus,” Drusus replied, his eyes cold.

Silius seethed as he read Indus’ and Calvinus’ dispatches. The situation in Gaul was becoming. With Sacrovir’s betrayal, he could easily overwhelm the small number of Roman troops in the region. Silius was certain Calvinus would rally the local cohorts under him, but still, that put his total strength well under that of a single legion. He was suddenly thankful that the Legate of the First Legion had insisted on his troops accompanying him. The pompous old fool was looking to gain glory for himself; however, he was infirm and would not be able to make the journey. Silius had convinced him to stay in Cologne and to transfer authority to his master centurion.

“We are still a week’
s march out,” Silius announced to Indus and Aemilius. “Can you hold until we get there?”

“If Sacrovir m
oves against us in force, I don’t think so,” Aemilius replied. “Calvinus has sent word to the legionary cohorts in the local garrisons. They will take a few days to arrive, and there are only three of them. More than just additional infantry, what we need is cavalry.”

“Which is where I come in,” Indus
interjected. “I have an entire regiment, which we will snatch out from under Sacrovir’s nose. If we can send a contingent to link up with them, they can also smash Florus and the remnants of the Turani.”

“That is quite the g
amble,” Silius replied. “I do not think Calvinus will be able to spare more than a single cohort. Tell him to send troops to aid the cavalry in routing the Turani. If they can kill or capture Florus, so much the better. But tell him to use his best judgment. I do not want to lose men in needless folly.”

Chapter X
II: A Reckless Gamble

***

“The rest of the
legion is on its way to us, as is the First Germanica,” Aemilius reported. “Silius has affirmed that he wants us to send a contingent to assist Indus’ cavalry in trapping Florus and preventing him from linking up with Sacrovir.”

Calvinus frowned in contemplation. While he was relieved that Silius had succeeded in rallying the First Legion to reinforce the twentieth, he was reluctant to split the forces he had on hand. The cohort from Lugdunum was still at least a day and half’s march away, and it would be at least another three to four days after that before the legionaries from Axima and Augustonemetum arrived.

“We cannot afford to spare more than a
cohort,” Agricola remarked. “Any more than that and we will have no chance of holding should Sacrovir decide to attack us.”

“My only question is will a
cohort be enough?” Cordus asked. “We have not only the Turani to deal with, but they may have been augmented by defectors from the Treveri. We risk losing an entire cohort and still have those bastards to deal with.”

“I assure you, most of my men have remained loyal,” Indus replied.
“However, your point is valid. I have ordered my cavalry to demonstrate against the Turani and try to fix them in place. That will slow down their movement.”

“I will go,” Proculus stated before the issue could be debated further.
“If we move now, we can entrap the enemy while they are still confined to the mountain passes. They will have Indus’ cavalry on one side and us on the other.”

“The old ‘hammer-
and-anvil’ approach,” Calvinus observed. “I like it. Ready your men to move at first light. Indus, you will accompany them. Just remember, time is not your ally on this mission. We will need every man we can muster once we do face Sacrovir’s army. Even with the First Germanica and the legionary garrisons, we will still be badly outnumbered, at least four to one.”

“My regiment has rou
ghly a thousand men to augment our ranks,” Indus added.

“We’ll need them,” he
said. “The local garrisons have no cavalry to speak of, besides couriers, and the combined cavalry forces of both legions amount to only about three hundred men.

“A
gricola, you will dispatch one century towards Augustodunum to act as an early warning in case Sacrovir decides to move against us. They will also be tasked with scouting out the best place for us to encamp, once the rest of the army arrives.”

“We’ll make it happen,” Agricola replied.
“I’ll go with my First Century and report back on any movements of the enemy.” With that, he turned and left.

Proculus was right behind him.
“Calvinus, with your permission, I am going to have the third ready to move tonight,” he said over his shoulder as he stood in the doorway.

“Use your best judgment, Proculus.
I need you back here as soon as possible, but do not get careless. We cannot afford to lose you.”

“A nighttime road march, isn’t this fun?” Carbo said, sarcastically, under his breath.

“Quit complaining,” Magnus retorted
, before Artorius could chastise the legionary. “You’ve had the whole last week to catch up on your beauty sleep! Besides, we need to make sure we are back in time for the real battle.”

Artorius noticed that Magnus seemed to handle most of the minor discipline problems within the section.
He was glad for it. Though he held no command authority, Magnus had the respect of his fellow legionaries. They listened to him without question, something which eased the workload on Artorius immensely.

The Third Cohort was moving at the quick step.
Every legionary traveled light, carrying only a week’s worth of iron rations, and a single javelin instead of the usual pair, along with their entrenching tools. The lighter loads allowed them to increase their pace on the march, as did the absence of baggage carts. While sleeping on the ground without a tent was not preferred, the nights were pleasant enough that the legionaries did not seem to mind. All understood, full-well, the urgency of their mission.

Only a pair of
praetorian guardsmen accompanied the Emperor and his son to Vipsania’s home. Her time was growing short, and Tiberius knew if he did not see her now, he may never get another chance. So many things did he already regret, that he only hoped he could try and make it right at the very last.

A servant opened the door, and the men walked into the foyer.
As they did, Senator Gallus was seen coming out of one of the rooms.

He smirked when he saw
the Emperor. “I should have known you would come.”

“Where is she?” Tiberius asked, his expression stony. The last thing he wanted was to have his final moments with his beloved ruined by conflict with this man.

“You giving me orders in my own house, Caesar?”
Gallus asked curtly, walking over until his face was mere inches from the Emperor’s. “I may not live here, but this is still my house, and Vipsania is still my wife.”

“Why did you never grant her a divorce?”
Tiberius asked, his voice calm, though his face noticeably hardened. “You never loved her. You have not lived together for years, so why did you not let her go?”

“
So she could be taken back by you?” Gallus snorted. “Oh, you would have liked that, wouldn’t you, to have her once again as your own, as Empress of Rome no less? How big a fool do you take me for, Tiberius? I would be lying if I said I didn’t take
distinct
pleasure in watching you suffer all these years, pining after her, and yet keeping her out of your reach. I know she was the only thing saving me from your spiteful vengeance, and that is why I kept her around. If I had divorced her, what would have stopped you from destroying me and my family?”

Tiberius could not deny it.
Though he had never intentionally used his power as a means of settling a personal score, he had certainly felt the temptation to do so against Gallus.

“Get out of my way,”
he replied, his voice extremely calm.

Drusus took a step back, recognizing the danger Gallus was in.

The
senator stood fast in defiance. “Or what? You going to have your praetorians  throw me out of my own house? That would not be so clever, Caesar.” The Emperor’s eyes narrowed slightly, a smirk crossing his own face. “Oh no, I do not need them to take care of my dirty work for me.” In a flash, he grabbed Gallus by the throat and by his toga, slamming him against a pillar. Then with terrifying strength, he lifted the man off the floor. Servants looked on, horrified. They wished to protect their master, but dared not come near the Emperor. Gallus was petrified as Tiberius slowly crushed his throat. As he started to black out, he was thrown to the floor, where he lay coughing and wheezing. The praetorians looked on, amused. Both men were veterans who served under Tiberius in Pannonia and had witnessed his maddening feats of strength when in a rage.

“I am going to
ask
you again to leave, Senator Gallus,” Tiberius remarked, his voice still calm. “And you may want to think things through before you go running to your cuckold in the Senate. It may not reflect well upon your masculinity to have it known that an old man was able to manhandle you like a wolf would a hare.”

Gallus struggled to his feet, coughing and clutching his throat. As he started to stagger away, he fell into Drusus, who calmly guided him to the door.

“I will escort the good senator out while you have a moment to yourself,” the young man remarked over his shoulder.

Tiberius allowed himself a half smile, but was sullen once more as he remembered why he was there.
Tiberius wanted to race down the corridor to her, but kept himself at a very brisk walk.

 
The praetorians posted themselves on either side of the door to the Green Room. Tiberius stopped and glanced at the elder of the two. The man grimaced slightly and nodded.  The younger looked at the Emperor with sympathy. The men were truly devoted, and they felt their Emperor’s pain, as much as if it were one of their wives or lovers who were dying. Tiberius knew this, and he was grateful to them; nameless men in armor to most, but to the Emperor they were friends, companions from a different and happier age in his life.

As he slowly opened the door to Vipsania’s bedchamber, the sight of her broke his heart.
In the soft light of a brassier, he saw his beloved--the woman who had been life itself to him.  Her once slender body had been ravaged by the disease and was painfully thin and withered.  Though her face had aged tremendously by sickness, it still held the elegant beauty that captivated him in his youth.   

Vipsania’s eye
s lit up when she saw Tiberius.  “I knew you would come,” she said, smiling weakly. Her voice was raspy and feeble. 

Tiberius could
see that it hurt her to speak. Kneeling by her bed, he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her on the forehead. “All I ever wanted was to take you back,” he said, his voice breaking. So much he wanted to tell her, and yet he was uncertain if he would be able to find the right words.  “If ever there was a woman who should have been Empress of Rome . . .” Vipsania raised a finger to his lips, quieting him.

“Do not live in regret, my
love,” she replied. “It was a terrible thing they made you do, forcing you to divorce me. I never faulted you for it; I pitied you, I wept for you.”  Her voice trailed off to a whisper on the last few words, so fragile.

Tiberius wanted nothing more than to lay his head on her shoulder.  He wanted to hear her speak soothing words while her soft hands stoked his hair as
she did when they were first married, and he was grumpy or melancholy.  He quickly regained his composure. 

“I never ceased loving you,” Tiberius
said softly, forcing down his tears and smiling gently.

Wordlessly, she reached out and drew his head to her shoulder. 
Her hands stroked his hair, almost absentmindedly.  For the briefest of time, they were young again, like when they were newly married. Only when he was readying to take his leave did she speak again, her voice as soft as the rustling of leaves. “Do not be so quick to follow me into the next life, Tiberius. I will wait for you.” Tiberius tenderly kissed her lips and held her close for what he knew to be the last time.

The Emperor
felt completely numb as he left the house, oblivious to the presence of his guards or his son. The only thing he could comprehend were her final words to him. They echoed in his mind, like he knew they would for the rest of his days. 
I will wait for you.

In just over a day and a half’s march, the Roman contingent reached the base of the hills where they knew
, beyond, the Turani were encamped. Thankfully, the enemy had yet to reach the open plains, where they would have a decided advantage and could easily encircle the legionary troops. As the cohort came to a halt, a man on a charger, wearing the uniform of an auxiliary cavalryman rode up. Indus, Proculus, and the other centurions rode out to meet him.

“What news?”
  Indus asked.