James Mace - Soldier of Rome - The Centurion

“I have a better idea,” he said, his purpose now laid clear before him. “What about adoption?”

Metellus looked confused as Calvinus’ face broke into a grin. “A citizen may adopt whomever he chooses to be his son and heir, and you know Diana and I cannot have children.” He then faced the young trooper and placed a hand on his shoulder, taking a deep breath. “Metellus is already my nephew by blood. I would be honored to have him as my son!”

Diana’s heart leapt as Artorius explained what had happened with Metellus and Master Centurion Calvinus. She folded her hands in front of her face, her eyes wet with emotion. Her husband seemed concerned about how she would feel about the situation, and he kept trying to explain himself to her, afraid he was upsetting her.

“I want this, not just to have an heir,” he said as he paced back in forth in their bedroom. “This young man is of my blood, he is an Artorius by birth. Never mind that I am only eleven years his elder…I feel a bond with him already. I swear on everything I love that I felt my brother’s presence in that room! It was as if he was guiding my hand.” He had turned away as he spoke and was staring out the window into the night, afraid of what her reaction would be. A gentle breeze blew in and he closed his eyes, his arms folded across his chest. Diana reached out and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight as she kissed him on the cheek.

“When can I meet our son?” she whispered into his ear.

For one father there would be no joyous reunion with his son. Justus stood trembling, the letter from Artorius having reached him long before the official notification from Rome. He stood inside the foyer of his house, his left hand resting on a pillar, the other holding the message from his friend in a balled up fist. His eyes were shut, face red and teeth grinding. Flavia and Gaia stood in the doorway leading into the back hallway. Flavia placed a hand over her mouth, her eyes immediately filling with tears.

“It’s about Gaius, isn’t it?” Gaia asked her father. Though nine years had separated her from her brother, she had always adored him. He in turn had always been there for his little sister.

Justus’ face was clenched hard, unable to speak. His cheeks stained with tears, he turned to face his wife and daughter. He stared not at them, but rather at the statue of Bellona, the goddess of war, that sat on a niche behind them. As the wife of a soldier, Flavia had felt that extra care should be given to both Bellona and Victoria, whose statue also adorned the room. In fact, the entire atrium was a virtual pantheon of Roman deities. His sorrow quickly turned to hatred as he stared into the lifeless eyes of the statue. He had just come off duty and was still in his armor. Eyes still fixed on the goddess; he slowly drew his gladius and cupped the blade in his left hand. He squeezed hard, unaware that the ever sharp blade was cutting into his hand. Flavia grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and slowly backed away as blood dripped from Justus’ hand.

The Centurion walked quickly over to the niche that held the large bust. It was made of a hollow ceramic; still highly ornate, though far more affordable than marble. It was also more fragile. Flavia held Gaia close as her husband raised his sword and pressed the point underneath the goddess’ chin. A wicked sneer then crossed his face, and with an unholy howl of rage he swung the sword, which smashed through the bust and shattered it with a loud crash. He then lunged towards the full-body statue of Victoria and with a backhand swing smashed it in two at the torso. The upper portion flew apart as it crashed onto the floor. Flavia released her daughter and fell to her knees, holding her hands up to her face as Justus committed one terrible sacrilege after another. The smashing of ceramic echoed throughout the hall, with Justus’ howls of anguish terrifying the household slaves.

As he strode towards the final statue, one of Apollo, Gaia rushed forward and came between her father and the god. Though just nine years old and half Justus’ size, she managed to stay his hand with a simple touch on his wrist. He gasped and hyperventilated as he hung his head, sweat dripping from his brow. Gaia effortlessly took the gladius from his hand. At first Justus thought his daughter was shamed by his conduct, but then he saw the cold determination in her eyes. She dropped the sword, turned and picked up the statue, and with an affirmative nod from her father, she gave her own cry of rage and smashed it onto the tile floor. As she met his gaze, Gaia’s eyes flooded with tears as the pain of her brother’s death overcame her. Justus grabbed her and held her close as both of them let their grief overwhelm them, his deeply cut left hand smearing blood all over the back of her stola. Flavia stumbled to her feet and limped over to her husband and daughter. All three clung to each other as they collapsed onto the floor against the wall. Justus uttered blasphemies under his breath, damning the pantheon of gods who had taken his beloved son from him. It was then that he swore he would rather be damned to the fires of hell than pay tribute to such abominations.

“I hate formalities,” Artorius grumbled as he passed some documents over to Metellus, “but at least this makes everything official. This one confirms that you are a citizen of Rome by adoption, and that your name is now Metellus Artorius Posthumous . I felt the cognomen appropriate as it still gives a sense of bonding to your biological father, my dear brother.” Artorius sighed deeply, looking away for a second.

Metellus sat quietly, reading through the official-sounding certificate of adoption. There were two other documents that Artorius was quick to explain.

“This one is your discharge from the auxilia. The other is your enlistment into the legions. You can either enlist or find yourself a job. Though the circumstances are quite unusual, Master Centurion Calvinus was able to get your auxiliary service credited towards your service obligation to the legions. He’s also waived the requirement for you to go through recruit training. His argument was that anyone awarded the Civic Crown had proven their valor and worth.”

Metellus smiled in reply.

“Where will I be assigned, sir?”

“The Sixth Cohort. I know the Pilus Prior, Centurion Agricola, pretty well. He took command of the Sixth right before the Sacrovir Revolt. He was the one who alerted us to Sacrovir’s intent to encase his vanguard in plate armor, thereby allowing us to come up with a plan to counter the threat.”

“I heard about that,” Metellus replied. “You used your entrenching pickaxes to burst through their armor.”

“Well, theirs was not the best crafted armor; it was bulky and extremely heavy.”

“Still, you thrashed them so soundly that not even a whisper of rebellion has been uttered in all of Gaul,” the legionary added.

“For now,” Artorius conceded. “There will always be those who seek to undermine the Empire and would see all that we have worked for undone. Still, at least it ensures that our profession will never cease to be a necessity. To be honest, I felt kind of bad for the Gauls. All they really wanted was to be recognized as equals within the Empire. If the damned Senate had just allowed Gauls of equal status senatorial membership, the whole rebellion could have been avoided.”

“No love for the Senate from you then,” Metellus mused.

“Not when a number of them were friends of my predecessor and would love nothing more than to make a lethal example of me,” the Centurion agreed. “Besides, from what I’ve seen, most of the Senate is fucking useless. There are a few who have made excellent legion commanders, but they are a minute portion of the senatorial class. The rest cannot make up their minds about anything! Their egos lead to pointless wars and we have to clean up their mess!