James Mace - Soldier of Rome - The Centurion

Claudia placed her head on her husband’s shoulder as they both gazed out the window and watched ships coming into the harbor in the distance.

The leaves were full of color and falling from the trees as a breeze took hold of them. Though Artorius hated winter and the cold weather, he loved this time of year when it was not so hot and the trees colorful. He and Diana walked along the riverbank, her hand in his. His physical wounds had mostly healed, though he knew the emotional ones would leave even deeper scars. The men he had lost were slowly being replaced, but they could never be replaced where it mattered most. It was not just soldiers under his command who had died, but also close friends. Decimus and Carbo had been with him since he first joined the legions thirteen years before. And Vitruvius, his dear friend and mentor, was gone.

Yet at the same time he felt revived, almost reborn now that he had a son. Agricola had taken the young legionary into his own First Century of the Sixth Cohort.

“Agricola tells me that Metellus has so far been a model legionary,” Artorius said as Diana laid her head on his shoulder, “admired by his friends, as well as his superiors.”

Metellus’ performance and conduct made Artorius especially proud, for he knew Agricola was a stickler for standards and at times a harsh disciplinarian. And far from showing any favors, Artorius knew the Pilus Prior would most likely expect Metellus to maintain an even higher standard of performance and conduct than his fellow legionaries.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Diana replied with a smile. Though she had not raised him or even known him for long, there was already a strong bond between them. “You know, he calls me Mother , even though I told him it was not necessary.”

This made Artorius smile in turn.

“I know I can never replace Rowana, who gave him birth and raised him.”

“And yet he still feels the same type of bond with you that he had with her,” Artorius replied. “I know this, because he told me.”

Diana gave his hand a squeeze as they continued to walk. Their strolls together in the evenings brought him a sense of peace, in what was otherwise his chaotic life. Before her return, Artorius’ life had been chaotic at best; quite the paradox given the order and discipline in the life of a Centurion of Rome.

The month that followed his adoption of Metellus had been extremely hectic for Artorius. Another dozen of his men had reported back to the Century, though most would be on light duty for at least a month or so. Only a handful more were expected to return at all, the rest were still awaiting medical discharge. It broke the Centurion’s heart to see his men, who had fought with extreme valor, now cast aside since they were of no use to the legions anymore. Even when the last returned, that would only leave the Second Century with a total strength of forty-six men, to include Centurion Artorius and the Principal Officers; leaving them even more under strength than he had first envisioned. That left thirty-eight vacancies within the Century. Some of the barracks rooms were almost completely vacant. Two only had one soldier living in each of them. Artorius had filled all of the Decanus vacancies from within the ranks, but two of these men had no one to lead. He had gone ahead with the promotions, feeling that it made no sense to leave any leadership position vacant, and that even without a squad to lead, these soldiers who merited the promotion should at least be able to enjoy the extra pay and benefits.

There had also been much in the way of transitions within the Legion’s hierarchy. What caused the greatest stirring was the announced retirement of Master Centurion Calvinus. Centurions Primus Ordo Aemilius and Draco had also submitted their requests for discharge and retirement. Privately, Diana’s cousin, Centurion Primus Ordo Proculus, had also expressed his desire to leave the legions within the next year or so. Artorius could not help but wonder if it was simply coincidence that all of these men were leaving, rather than attempting to replace Calvinus as the Legion’s Primus Pilus, or if there was something more to it. Certainly they were not young men anymore, and most of them had been wounded during the Battle of Braduhenna.

It came as no surprise to anyone then, that during the Council of Centurions, Platorius Macro was selected by an almost unanimous vote to replace Calvinus as Master Centurion. Few of the cohort commanders even attempted to win the position. Most were now focused on attempting to win all of the Primus Ordo vacancies within the First Cohort. All Centurions were eligible for these positions, though Artorius knew he would not be considered. After all, it had taken a special dispensation that allowed him to be promoted to his current rank three years shy of the minimum age requirement. He had reached that age requirement in January, when he turned thirty, and he knew that his name would not even be mentioned in the consideration to fill the Primus Ordo vacancies. It suited him just fine. His heart was with the Second Century, and he knew there was much work to be done in order to heal the wounds of his men. In his mind, taking a promotion at this time would be tantamount to abandoning those who had fought by his side and given so much of themselves.

He had been right about the Primus Ordo positions. Legate Apronius, Master Centurion Macro, and the Legion’s tribunes selected three senior-ranking Centurions to fill the positions. The only one whose name Artorius recognized was his son’s Cohort Commander, Centurion Agricola, who he always regarded with a high level of respect.

“All that and you can’t even get a Cohort Commander position out of it?” Magnus mused as he and Artorius discussed the volatile situation amongst the Centurionate, as they walked along the riverbank. Diana had taken it upon herself to send Nathaniel with a bottle of their best wine, which the two men shared as they sat down against a tree by the river. Artorius had decided he needed to get away from the Century’s offices and the mild fall breeze felt good coming off the water. The slave had returned to the manor house to procure more wine for the men.

“Anxious to replace me, are you?” he retorted as he skipped a small stone across the river.

Magnus gave a snort. “Not even a little bit,” he replied. “I’m quite comfortable watching you squirm under the burdens of responsibility.” Both men shared a laugh at his sarcasm. It felt good to Artorius to be able to laugh again, even briefly.

“Centurion Artorius!” The shout broke their banter up, and the Centurion sighed as he leaned back and raised his head to the sky.

“Here,” he replied.

The call had come from Dominus, who stumbled through the thicket next to the tree. “There you are! Ah, I see you’ve got Magnus with you. Good.”

“You alright, sir?” Artorius asked, looking over his shoulder.

The Cohort Commander’s face was slightly flushed.

“I hope so. The Master Centurion told me to come find both of you. He needs to see all three of us in his office, now.”

“Shit,” Artorius swore under his breath.

“Don’t worry,” Magnus replied cheerfully. “Nathaniel knows if he cannot find us to take our refreshments to the Century’s office. We’ll knock back a few and toast either our good fate or bad fortune when we find out what Macro wants.”

It never ceased to amaze Artorius how his Nordic friend was always so calm no matter what the situation. He had no idea as to why Macro would need to see both of them and their Cohort Commander. It did not bode well for him, especially given Dominus’ dishevelment.

“Enter!” Macro’s voice boomed as soon as Artorius knocked.