James Mace - Soldier of Rome - The Centurion

In the year 28 A.D. the people of Frisia, a previously loyal province, were suffering under the oppression of the Roman magistrate, a former Centurion named Olennius. So blinded by greed had he become, that he taxed the populous well beyond their means to produce. Now impoverished and risking starvation, the Frisians did the unspeakable and sought open rebellion as their only means of survival.

The Emperor Tiberius, now living in self-imposed isolation on the isle of Capri, is deeply troubled upon hearing that such a staunchly loyal province would seek to throw off the rule of Rome. Nevertheless, he orders the mobilization of the Army of the Rhine to suppress the Frisians back into docile submission, never knowing the real reason as to the origin of the rebellion.

As the Twentieth Legion marches north into Frisia on its first major campaign in eight years, Centurion Artorius finds himself facing his first major battle since taking over his Century. Years of relative peace, combined with the mass discharges of many of his veteran soldiers, have left the ranks filled with a number of young and inexperienced legionaries. For over a third of his men this will be their first action. The Frisians, in their desperation, know that they face death either by starvation in peace or slaughter on the battlefield. For Artorius and his legionaries the crucible of war will end in heartbreak; for only after the devastation of battle does the truth arise.

The Imperial Palace, Rome

March, 25 A.D.

It was a dreary day despite the bright morning sun. Then again, every day was gloomy to the Emperor Tiberius Claudius Nero Caesar. Since the death of his son, Drusus, two years before, there had been no joy in his life. No amount of leisure, concubines, or political and military triumphs for Rome could ease the pain in his heart. His ever gloomy nature had alienated him from subjects. Indeed, many had forgotten that Tiberius had once led the legions to great victories. He had been the greatest military leader in a generation, never once suffering the ignominy of defeat. But that was so long ago. The man who had once been Rome’s greatest champion, who had succeeded the divine Augustus to the imperial throne, was now little more than a broken soul.

Tiberius stood in the archway leading out to the second story balcony that was connected to the office where he spent most of his days. He placed a hand on the pillar and hung his head, feeling too tired to care about anything. In his other hand was a pair of medallions on silver chains. One bore the image of his deceased former wife, Vipsania; the other was of his son. He clutched both tightly, to the point where the images were embedded into his hand.

“You cannot dwell on the past forever.” The voice of his mother, the Empress Livia, cut into him like a sharp knife.

“When one has lost all which one loves, what else can he do but dwell on it?” His response sounded full of self-pity, and he loathed himself for it. Tiberius had taken pride his entire life on his physical and mental strength. It was that very strength that the divine Augustus had called upon countless times when Tiberius served him as a soldier and statesman. Now he felt enfeebled, and it sickened him.

“I always thought a boy loved his mother,” Livia replied, though her voice had noticeably softened from its usual harsh tone.

“Do not think that I don’t love you, Mother,” the Emperor replied sullenly. “It’s just different between us, that’s all. Vipsania was the only woman whom I ever loved, and she was the only person who ever truly accepted me for who I am. And Drusus…”

“Love is not something one marries for,” Livia said as she walked towards him. “Vipsania was a good woman, but aside from giving you your son, she was useless to us. I can sympathize with your loss of Drusus, though. He was my grandson, and remember that I, too, know what it is like to bury a child.” Tiberius winced at the sudden memory. How many years had it been since his beloved brother, whom he had named his son after, had died?

“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Tiberius conjectured. “Here I stand, ruler of an Empire of seventy million souls, and yet I have always failed those closest to me. I was the elder brother and should have been able to protect Drusus. And whatever your disposition may have been towards Vipsania, she was still my wife! You know I never forgave Augustus for taking her from me. As for my son…his debaucheries and lifestyle were his undoing. Of all that I have lost in my life, he was the one I could have saved! My own son needed me, and I failed him.”

“You cannot forget the other seventy million within the Empire who still need their Emperor,” Livia chided gently. She knew Tiberius was inconsolable when it came to the loss of those close to him, regardless of whether or not he was to blame for their demise.

“I am reminded of it every day,” the Emperor acknowledged. “For eleven years now I have borne the mantle of Caesar .”

“And do you still love Rome, as you once did?”

“Love…and hate her,” Tiberius answered. “I won’t lie to you; there are days I wish I could wake up and find the city below vanished in an instant. Cast it all down into oblivion! But no, the city is eternal, and the Empire that she spawned will continue long after I am gone.”

“It is about when you are gone that I wish to speak with you,” Livia said, causing Tiberius to throw his hands up in the air and storm back into his office.

“Oh, Mother, not you too!” he barked. “A day never passes that I am not constantly chastised over the issue of the succession. I would just rather Rome became a republic once more after I am gone; a true republic, not the farce that we have now.” His last remark caused Livia to glare at him. Even at his age her stern gaze unnerved him.

“You don’t believe that any more than I do!” she snapped. “You may be a lot of things, but a republican is not one of them, so don’t play stupid with me! Your brother was infatuated with the Republic, but you, I always thought were the more sensible of the two when it came to that.” Tiberius let out a resigned sigh as he sat down behind his desk.

“You know me too well, Mother,” he conceded. “Alright, so I don’t believe in the Republic. Mind you, it’s not that I don’t like the principles. It’s that the Senate lacks the competence to rule over a whorehouse, let alone an Empire that stretches from Hispania to Arabia. There are maybe a dozen decent men amongst their ranks; a dozen out of the two hundred active members and further additional four hundred of the senatorial class!”

“Then you must decide now who will maintain the Empire after you have gone!”

“Why, so they can plot against me and have me removed?” Tiberius rebuked. “The sons of Germanicus serve as my heirs. Despite the ill feelings of their mother towards me, I still see little need to view them as anything less than my adoptive grandchildren.”

“The Senate worries that your animosity towards Agrippina will undo any sense of stability with her sons succeeding to the imperial throne,” Livia added.

“The Senate will deal with my decisions like they do everything else,” Tiberius responded forcefully. “The sons of Germanicus will continue to serve as my heirs, provided their bitch of a mother keeps her place.”