Soldier of Rome: Journey to Judea (The Artorian Chronicles) (14 page)

The commander of the watch had ordered the ballistae manned. Fires were stoked nearby in preparation for the order to fire flaming shot. Archers lined the walls, and
as the ranking centurion, Justus Longinus had rallied the cohort’s legionaries, staging them back from the docks. Auxiliaries cleared the crowds away from the docks, and people scattered in all directions.

“Damned
pirates,” Pilate swore under his breath as he stood on the wall that was lined with archers awaiting his orders.

“A single ship towi
ng one of our vessels,” Justus observed.

“What does it mean?” a
soldier asked.

“
As there are no other military vessels operating in these waters that I’m aware of, I would say our friends’ ship has been taken,” Pilate scowled. “And if not a raid, then they are most likely looking for ransom. They will get none from me!”

“But if Artorius and
his men are on that ship…” Justus began.

“I said they will get none from me!”
Pilate snapped. He turned and glared at the centurion. “If I allow one pirate ship to garner ransom it will only encourage more brigands to unleash terror on the sea.”

He was glad Claudia was entertaining guests this evening and was
, therefore, oblivious to the situation. Pilate cringed at what it would do to his poor wife to think that her dear sister was held captive by the scourge of the seas.

“They’
re almost in range,” a crewman behind an onager observed.

“Hold your fire until we know their intentions,” Pilate ordered.

They watched nervously as the ships slowly coasted into a vacant dock. At length they stopped with a loud groan of the hull grinding on the dock and the splash of oars withdrawn from the water. The gangplank was lowered and Pilate let out a boisterous laugh when he saw the first man debark.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Magnus asked as he followed Artorius
, who’d come down the other gangplank. “I thought you said this was one of the busiest ports in the world.”

“It’s su
pposed to be,” Artorius replied, “Even at night.” He looked around and was shocked to see the docks completely deserted. Boxes of cargo were scattered everywhere, as if the whole population of Caesarea that worked in the harbor had suddenly disappeared.

“Son of a bitch!”
a voice shouted from across the way.

The two
centurions looked over to see Justus Longinus leading the rest of the cohort towards them.

“
Hey Justus!” Artorius shouted back. “Nice to see you, too, you dirty whore!”

“Warm reception,” Commander
Stoppello observed as he walked up behind the men. He looked back at the ship and calmly said, “I can see why we caused them such vexation.”

“What?” Artorius asked, looking over his shoulder. H
e then realized what the captain was looking at.

“We used the damn pirate ship to tow ou
rs in,” Stoppello explained.

“Well
, I’ll be buggered!” Magnus replied as he burst into laughter. “That was probably the dumbest thing we’ve done in a while.”

“You’ve got that right!” Justus barked as he walked briskly over to them. He shook his head, though he was still grinning. “You realize you almost got baked by a dozen onagers and ballistae loaded with flaming shot!”

“Hey, it’s been a long trip,” Artorius remarked as he gruffly embraced his old friend. He noticed Pontius Pilate walking towards them and quickly stepped back and saluted the procurator. “First Italic Cohort reporting for duty!”

“You’re late,” Pila
te replied, clasping his hand. “Still, it’s good to see you made it safe. What of this ship?”

“It’s a long story,” Artorius replied.

“You can tell me over dinner,” Pilate replied as he left the men to oversee the offloading of the ships. “Come to the palace once you’re settled. I’ll see if my cooks have any more of that roast peacock left.”

“Sounds delightful,” Artorius replied.
He then turned to his wife. “Why don’t you go with Pilate? Your sister will be elated to see you. I’ll be along as soon as my men are settled.”

Diana smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and walked quickly to catch up with her brother-in-law and his escorts.

“I’ll go over to the merchant’s guild in the morning and see about fetching a price for the ship,” Stoppello said. “I know some fellows here who will pay a good price for her.”

“My brother
knows of some good slave dealers in this city who will pay a few sesterces for the prisoners,” Magnus added.

By the time the legionaries and crewmen had disembarked from the ships, the pier was alive with activity once more.
Hanging lamps were lit and merchant cargo continued to move on and off the ships. Few paid any mind to the two centuries of legionaries who marched through the dockyard.

“The barracks are this way,” Justus said, pointing towards a walled compound a half mile from the docks and about three blocks from the governor’s palace. A pair of sentries stood guard outside the open gate, saluting the
centurions as they led their men into the complex.

“Welcome home, lads,” one of the men said to the passing legionaries who marched by them, carrying their bulging packs.

The layout was similar to most standard Roman forts, although on a much smaller scale, as this was only meant to house a single cohort. There were six long buildings with stucco walls and tiled roofs that served as the billets for the legionaries. Like all other Roman barracks, there were ten bays, one for each squad of legionaries and partitioned off into two rooms. One room was for storage of arms and equipment, the other was their living space. The tesserarius and signifier shared a small room, with the optio and centurion each having their own private quarters.

“The barracks were completed just four weeks ago,” Justus noted. “You cannot see it in the dark, but on the far side they are still working on the small principia, complete with administrative offices. We’re still waiting for the roof to go on the service building, but at least it has the sewage lines already run.”

Service building
was a euphemistic term that described the communal latrines. Privacy was unknown to most, and legionaries were no exception. The service building primarily consisted of long stone benches with holes cut out for them to sit on. A constant flow of running water kept waste from lingering. Numerous buckets carrying sponges on sticks were dispersed throughout, which soldiers would use to clean themselves once they were finished. A narrow sluice of water ran in front of where they sat to relieve themselves, and this would be used to wash off their sponges. While not the most pleasant feature of the barracks, it was still far more preferable, not to mention sanitary, than how most dealt with human waste.

While soldiers noisily settled themselves into their barracks rooms, Artorius opened the door leading to the
centurion’s quarters. Aside from a small desk and a bed, it was devoid of furnishings. The bed had no blankets and did not look the least bit inviting despite Artorius’ fatigue. He sighed and set his helmet on the desk and began the tedious task of removing his armor and all that came with it. Normally, Nathaniel was there to help him out of his kit. However, the Judean slave was with the rest of the baggage train and had probably not even made it through Macedonia and Thrace yet.

With no rack to hang is armor and decorations on, he unceremoniously tossed the lot onto his bunk before strapping back on his
centurion’s belt, as well as his gladius. Though he was completely drained from the long journey, he was also very hungry, and was suddenly glad of Pilate’s offer to share a late supper with him at the palace. He stepped into the dark hallway, which glowed faintly with torchlight coming from the squad bays down the narrow corridor. Across from his own room, an open door led into the optio’s quarters, where Valens’ common-law wife, Svetlana, was helping him out of his armor and accoutrements.

“There’s no damned blankets on the bed,” Valens grunted as he spotted his
centurion. “To hell with it, I think we’re going to find ourselves a bit of refreshment and a more ‘comfortable’ place to lay our heads tonight.”

“Care to join us?” Svetlana asked.

“Normally, I would love to,” Artorius replied. “However, Pilate has asked me to dine with him, and it would be rude of me to refuse, especially on our first night in the province.”

“Suit yourself,” Valens remarked. “What are your orders for tomorrow?”

“Get the men acquainted with the city or at least the area surrounding the barracks. I’ll task Justus with providing a few escorts. They’ve been here a couple months, so they should know their way around. We need to make sure all the bunks have mattresses and blankets, and we need to speak with the local quartermaster about where to procure rations.”

“Works for me,” Valens acknowledged. “Cicero is in
our century, but as he will most likely be our chief armorer, we need to make sure he’s got a suitable shop to work in, along with all the tools he’ll need.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Artorius said,
feeling the full weight of every small, yet crucial detail required for an independent cohort to operate. All of which were his direct responsibility. Though he would most certainly be delegating the authority over many of the tasks to his subordinate officers, the one thing he could never delegate was responsibility. Whatever happened within the cohort, for good or ill, accountability fell upon him alone.

Chapter XIV:
Friends Old and New

***

That their journey had at last come to an end seemed surreal to Artorius. Pilate had interrupted Claudia’
s dinner party to introduce Diana to the assembled guests. The two sisters had embraced affectionately and even shed a few tears. Pilate left the women and returned to his study, where a servant had had the good sense to heat up his dinner.

“There will be one more joining me,” the
procurator said. “Find him something suitable.”

The slave bowed and left through a side door. As Pilate sat and started into his meal once more, the double doors were opened and Artorius was ushered in.

“I apologize for not having time to bathe,” the centurion said as he strode across the large room and took a seat across from his brother-in-law. “I also won’t have any more suitable attire until our baggage arrives.”

“You are always welcome in my house,” Pilate asserted. “And my private baths are at your disposal. In fact, why don’t you and Diana stay here? There are plenty of guest rooms, and as you saw, we are but a few blocks from the barracks. I cannot imagine that you would prefer to live there.”

“You are correct,” Artorius replied as a slave walked in with a tray bearing a pitcher of wine and an extra goblet. The centurion took the cup and drank thirstily.

“I have the cooks preparing you some dinner,” Pilate added as he consumed another chunk of roasted pea
cock. “It probably won’t be anything exotic, but I assure you all the food in my household is more than palatable.”

“Right now I’d be happy with some of Magnus’ spitted boar,” Artorius said with a laugh. “And I am grateful for your hospitality. It has been a long journey, coming all the way from Germania. This will certainly be a completely different experience for most of my men.”

“That it will,” Pilate concurred. Two servants entered, one bearing a plate of steaming strips of meat, the other with a large bowl filled with fresh vegetables. Pilate continued as his friend ate hungrily. “I’ll give you a week to get assimilated and to get the cohort fully operational. Justus has done some of the work already, as you saw with his oversight of the barracks. But I also know there are many tasks which will require your direct input. After you’re established, I’m going to send you to Jerusalem for a few weeks to see if you can instill some order and discipline into the ranks of the auxiliary garrison.”

“That’s why you sent for me,” Artorius said between mouthfuls of food.

“Justus is, thankfully, familiar with most of the people and customs that frequent this part of the world. I am thankful that you two are friends, even though…” His voice trailed off and an awkward pause followed as both men continued to eat.

“Has he said anything about what happened to his son?” Artorius asked at last, unable to take the silence any longer.

“We’ve talked,” Pilate replied. “He doesn’t wish to blame you for Gaius’ death. However, I know you both subscribe to the notion that a centurion is ultimately responsible for the lives of his soldiers, regardless of circumstance.”

“A responsibility I readily accepted when I rose to the
centurionate,” Artorius said. “And that is why, even if I live to be a hundred, I will always be haunted by what happened in Braduhenna.”

“Still, like I said, Justus does not want to place the blame squarely on you. He knows your caliber as a soldier and leader of fighting men. What he wants is the truth
. He wants to know exactly how his son died.”

“I will speak with him,” Artorius
replied. “I owe him that much. Valens, my optio, was Gaius’ squad leader at Braduhenna. He was with him when he fell and can tell Justus the total truth far better than I can. I will take care of this before we head to Jerusalem.”

Noting the weariness in his cohort commander’s face, Pilate dismissed Artorius as soon as he finished with his meal. The
centurion then took his leave, a servant escorting him to where Claudia held her dinner party. Most of the guests had departed by this time, and the two sisters lounged on couches across from each other, talking nonstop.

“Ah, my love,” Diana said as she reached a hand up, which Artorius readily took. Her expression was as tired as he felt.

“My apologies, dear sister,” Claudia said as she reached over and took Diana’s other hand. “I have kept you up late, and you’ve both had a long journey. Please, off to bed with you both. There will be plenty of time for us to catch up.”

After Artorius helped her to her feet, Diana leaned down and kissed Claudia on both cheeks before they allowed the servant to escort them to their room.
The palace was quite large, far more spacious than any other residence Artorius had ever visited. He wasn’t even sure if he could find his way out again! He noted the occasional guard that strolled through the corridors, though these men were neither legionary nor auxilia, but rather private bodyguards that Pilate had personally hired. This particular hall was not completely enclosed, but had a series of open balconies that seemed to almost run together. The moonlight shone brightly, negating the need for additional light, although the servant did carry an oil lamp before him.

The doors were all painted with a variety of bright colors, though in the moonlight, combined with his extreme fatigue
, it was hard for Artorius to differentiate between them. The slave seemed to instinctively know which room was theirs, and at length opened the door to a rather spacious suite. Artorius could not help but notice that the room was larger than a squad bay that housed eight legionaries, with plenty of ornate furnishings and a huge bed that looked all-too-inviting. He instructed the servant on when to have him woken, and the man bowed deeply before leaving, closing the door behind him.

“An overdue night of comfortable sleep,” Diana said as she threw back her stola and unstrapped her gladius.

Artorius chuckled as he unbuckled his own weapon and wondered if her sister knew that she almost always walked around armed. In a place like the governor’s palace there was no need. However, the streets of the city, and especially the surrounding countryside, were inhospitable at best.

The faint glow of moonlight fell upon the room through an open window. As Diana laid her head on his shoulder, Artorius contemplated this next chapter that was about to begin in their lives. The east was completely foreign to him, and he recalled a conversation he’d had with Sergeant Cicero before they left Cologne. The
empire was, indeed, vast and despite his years in the legions, his only exposure outside of Italia had been eastern Gaul, Belgica, and Germania. A new world opened before him, but that would come in the morning. For now, he rolled over and kissed his wife deeply, his desire for her never waning as she moaned passionately and took him into her arms.

As the sun broke over the horizon, the city of Caesarea slowly came to life. Hansi Flavianus had arisen a couple hours before and
, after a few interactions with slave merchants and old acquaintances, he made his way to the inn where his brother had elected to sleep the night before. Like many buildings in this region, it looked to be almost entirely made of stone. The Nordic sailor stepped through the entranceway, which was simply a large curtain over where there should have been a door. The bottom floor was a mostly-deserted tavern, and on the extreme right were the uneven stone steps leading up to the rooms. Grinning, Hansi bounded up the stairs and down the short hall on the second floor, to where he knew Magnus was staying. Without so much as knocking, he burst in.

“Brother, I’ve found a possible buyer for the prisoners,”
he said loudly.

Magnus was fast asleep, a local prostitute draped over his arm.
He had accompanied Valens the night before, and after finding some suitable reprieve, had acquired a room at the nearest inn for the night. Though it was now early morning, long after he normally roused himself, the centurion felt he could sleep for another ten hours.

“Don’t you ever knock?” Magnus chastised as he threw a sandal at his brother
before crawling out of the creaking bed and pulling on his tunic.

The woman had the
blankets pulled up to her chin and was giggling in a high-pitched voice.

“Oh
, sorry, I didn’t realize you were
busy
,” Hansi chided with a laugh. He held up Magnus’ sandal, which his brother quickly snatched from him.

“Yeah, well maybe you sailors are fine with spending weeks or months at sea, jerking off over the side of the ship. As for me, I need more quality satisfaction than what can be wrought with the palm of my hand.”

“Well, actually I use two hands,” Hansi laughed, gesturing crudely. “Now hurry up. Our potential client will be seeing us about the prisoners within the hour.”

“Who is he?” Magnus asked, pulling on his sandals and then giving his lady companion a smack on the butt as she shuffled out the door, half naked
, and still laughing.

“No idea,” Hansi replied. “He
didn’t tell me his name. A few friends I have in port recommended him to me. None of them were even remotely interested in the disease-ridden lot we captured. So this fellow claims he’s from Syria, but he doesn’t look like any Syrian I’ve ever met. From the look of him, I’d say his origins are even further east than Parthia.”

“So what’s his interest in our prisone
rs?” Magnus asked as they stumbled down the stone steps out of the inn. He barely took notice of the sailor who accompanied his brother, a very young man with light hair and fair skin such as his. He had the hood of his light cloak pulled up over his head to shield it from the sun as the three men stepped out into the sun.

“I’m going to hate this place,” Magnus sighed as he squinted in the bright light.

“As long as you get to stay here in Caesarea, it won’t be too bad,” Hansi replied. “The sea breeze is nice and makes this place rather pleasant. It’s Jerusalem and the inland cities that prove insufferable.” He then turned to the young man who accompanied him. “Alaric, run off and see about the sail makers. Report to Commander Stoppello once you have negotiated a price.”

“Yes, sir,” the lad said, still shielding his face as he turned away.

“What’s with him?” Magnus asked.

“You know, I’m not entirely sure,” his brother answered. “He joined us in Ostia, said he’d served six years on various merchant ships. He must have been very young, as I don’t think he’s even twenty. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s a good worker. Said he’d never wielded a weapon in his life, though he fought well enough against the pirates, even got one
of the bastards right in the stomach. For some reason he’s awfully skittish around legionaries, probably something to do with his past. But, whatever that may be, it’s his own business. Now, let’s go see our new friend.”

As one of the major port cities in the eastern
empire, Caesarea was full of merchants, tourists, and various persons from every corner of Rome’s domains and beyond. Oriental silks, eastern rugs, exotic clothing and décor seemed to overflow from every vendor stall; all punctuated by the smell of various spices and burning incense.

“It’ll be another week till our ship is repaired,” Hansi continued, “So I’ll get to enjoy baking with you for a little bit longer.”

“A week,” Magnus scoffed. “I’ll be here for gods know how many years.”

“You and Artorius seem to follow each other all over the empire,” Hansi observed as they walked along the cobblestone street, past the stockade on the docks where freshly-imported slaves were temporarily held.

“He’s been my best friend
since we joined the legions,” Magnus replied. “I couldn’t let him run off without me. Besides, how much of the empire have I really seen? Grandfather may be a true Norseman, but we were all raised in Ostia. I’ve never even been to the ancestral homeland. My entire tenure in the legions has been spent on the Rhine frontier, plus our three-year stint in Gaul. At least you’ve been around the whole of the empire.”

“Only the wet bits,” Hansi noted with a laugh.
“To tell you the truth, I have no idea why I joined the Roman Navy. For years it was rather tedious and backbreaking, sitting behind an oar for most of the day. Our pay is far inferior to that of legionaries, and the little time we did get to spend on dry land was usually nothing more than a day or two in a port city. The people may dress and talk differently, and the whores vary in skin color and how badly they are disease-ridden, but they are basically the same. Once you’ve seen one port, you’ve seen them all.”