For a Roman's Heart (2 page)

Via Principalis: Road running between the gateway in each of the longer sides of a fort.

Vitis: Stick carried by a centurion used to inflict beatings

Chapter One

“Every instant of time is a pinprick of eternity.”

Marcus Aurelius

Roman Emperor (AD 161–180), AD 121–AD 180

AD 167

Deva Victrix Castra Legionis

Home to Legio XX Valeria Victrix

Britannia

Late-September rain drizzled on Centurion Terentius Marius Atellus as he marched into the
principia
of the fortress, his full rank and name announced in loud tones by the soldier standing at the open door.

“Primus Hastatus Posterior Terentius Marius Atellus.”

If he screwed this up, it might be the last rank he achieved.

A lofty title he’d aspired to for so long, and now that he’d owned the rank for a week, Terentius’s heartbeat raced and sweat beaded on his brow.

His skin itched under the tunic, weighed down by scale armor. A small annoyance. He thought long and hard, in the few seconds that passed, about what he’d done to displease his superiors. When the first spear of his cohort had called him forth and told him the legion commander demanded his presence at the
principia
, Terentius had experienced a sensation he thought he’d shoved to the background for fifteen long years in the army. Stark fear.

As if crucifixion was coming, or maybe the slice of cold, brutal blade across his throat.

Terentius stopped at the doorway, awaiting permission to enter from the legion commander, Gaius Rufius Cilo.

“Come!” Cilo’s voice rang out solid and cold.

Goddess Disciplina and Mars, god of war, give me strength.

Terentius strode into the room, his left hand on his
gladius
, his gaze landing on Cilo, and the senatorial tribune and second in command of the legion, Titus Julius Lurco. Terentius took a deep breath and met their gaze head on. For both of them to be here, he must have committed a tremendous sin against the gods. He straightened his stance. He towered over Cilo and Lurco. Both men sat—Cilo behind an opulent desk, Lurco in an extravagant chair nearby.

“Terentius Marius Atellus at your command.” Terentius signaled his allegiance as he pumped his fist against one shoulder of his armor, then sliced outward with open hand in a standard salute.

Cilo stood, his tunic and armor across a broad chest and war-hardened body. The man looked like a pale frog with blond hair and piercing grey eyes.

“Atellus, step forward.” Cilo’s voice was sonorous and as authoritative as his station. “We have work for you to do.”

Lurco stood as well. “Important work.”

Terentius’s gaze bounced from man to man. “What would you have me do?”

“We understand that a legionnaire has deserted.”

Now Terentius understood. Moisture from his soaked hair trickled down the back of his neck. “Yes. A man under my command. Publius Sergius Sulla.”

“You reported it this morning.” Cilo walked toward Terentius. His gaze went hard and angry. “Did he leave this morning?”

Terentius wanted to shift on his feet, but he didn’t dare move. “My optio interrogated two other soldiers in the same tent as the deserter, and they say he left this morning. Sulla has talked of deserting before.”

Lurco snorted, his face contorting in disgust. He jammed a hand through his thick dark hair. “They didn’t turn him in?”

Terentius shook his head and gripped his
gladius
a little harder. Feeling the cold metal under his fingers gave him strength for whatever punishment would come. “No. They’ve been punished.”

Lucro sneered. “By death, I hope?”

Terentius stiffened. “By whipping. I thought the punishment should fit the crime. Sulla will find crucifixion when he’s located.”

Cilo cleared his throat and walked closer. He stood sharp, his eyes clear and not accusing as Terentius expected. “There is penalty for a centurion who allows one of his men…more than one…to go astray.”

Terentius swallowed, his mouth and throat dry as dirt on a twenty-mile march. “More than one man?”

Lurco approached Terentius with full-scale dislike in his eyes and his mouth a tight line. “The men who didn’t stop Sulla and Sulla himself.”

As compliance to superior officers had been drilled into him since age sixteen, Terentius said, “I’ll take whatever penalty I deserve.”

Cilo placed his hands on his hips and paced. “We can’t have undisciplined, rogue soldiers within the legion, and we can’t have those same soldiers leaving Deva to create havoc beyond. Do you agree, Atellus?”

Terentius nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You are a valued soldier. The command you respect with the first cohort and your superiors is extraordinary. How old are you?” Cilo asked.

“Twenty-eight.”

Cilo’s thick eyebrows rose high. “Young for a centurion.”

“Two years shy of the average, sir.”

Cilo nodded. “Still. Extraordinary. What is your final goal in the twentieth?”

Terentius didn’t have to lie. “To lead my men with strength and honor.”

Cilo barked a hearty laugh and slapped a hand on Terentius’s shoulder, then released him. Terentius’s armor clinked. “A natural goal, of course. Maybe if you have letters of recommendation from people such as myself. If you take your punishment like a true Roman citizen, you might well receive a letter from me and a faster promotion to the next rank.”

Terentius’s gut clenched. “I understand that is the way of it, sir. But I have reached my rank on discipline and hard work, and loyalty to Rome. My father—”

Lurco shoved a tankard across the desk, and it made a harsh squeaking sound. “Who was your father?”

Terentius loosened his grip on his
gladius
and transferred the tension to the hilt of the sword on his right hip. “Lucius Fabius Atellus.”

“A fine man. He owned a villa here in Deva, did he not?” Cilo asked.

Harsh memories attempted to surface, but Terentius kept them shoved deep in his psyche where they belonged. “He did. He taught me that my word is my honor, sir. A man is worth nothing if he has no integrity.”

“And with that honor you understand that you could receive severe rebuke and punishment for your inability to keep the proper discipline in your ranks?” Cilo asked.

Terentius gained his fortitude. His heart no longer beat fast, his pulse no longer throbbed hard in his veins. Whatever fate willed, he would face it without flinching. “I do, sir.”

With a wide sweep of his hand Cilo asked, “If you were me, Centurion, what punishment would you levy upon yourself in this situation?”

Stunned by the question, Terentius dared to gaze straight into the commander’s eyes. He found his voice. “I would ask him to do what it takes, however long it takes, to find Sulla. I would ask that he do this alone…alone except for the assistance of his optio. It would restore the legion’s respect if he captured the rogue soldier.”

Lurco’s laugh, low and almost raspy, broke over the air. “You will
not
tell us what you’ll do to make up for this lack of command in your cohort. We will tell you.”

Terentius didn’t dare look at Lurco. He wanted to take him down with one well-placed punch.
Well, which is it, you son of a whore? Ask me what should be done, I’ll always tell you.

Cilo spoke, but only after taking a deep breath. “Very well.” His gaze landed on Lurco. “Atellus has made a good choice.”

Lurco’s lips tightened into a resentful line. “This hardly seems a reasonable punishment.” He gestured at Terentius. “He could desert as well.”

Fed up, Terentius pinned his superior with a frown that he knew would cower a lowly soldier. “I could. But I never would. My honor is beyond rebuke.”

Lurco’s sword came out of the scabbard faster than Terentius could blink. Instinct forced Terentius to brace himself, to tighten his grip on the sword and consider that death would truly find him if he fought back. Not because he’d lose the fight. Because he’d win.

Darkness flashed in Lurco’s eyes. Oh, yes. Lurco enjoyed death. Terentius had seen the man’s bloodlust in full when they’d been in the same row of seats watching a gladiatorial fight at the amphitheater. The man loved the red. Loved the stench of death.

“Stand down, Lurco.” Cilo’s commanding voice halted Lurco’s forward momentum.

Lurco stopped in his tracks, his breathing coming faster. He slowly reseated his sword. “He speaks out of turn.”

Cilo sighed. “Enough.” He glowered at his second in command. “Terentius would kill you, and then I’d have to have him killed, and then I would lose a fine centurion. Where is the logic in that? Few men are more respected than Terentius.” Before Lurco could speak, Cilo continued. “So be it. You will take your optio and track down this Sulla. Do you have any idea where he’s gone?”

A weight lifted from Terentius and he relaxed. “I do, sir. I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

“Very well. Come back in an hour. I’ll have a letter for you to take with you. I received word from the auxiliary unit we have at Durovigutum just this week. Locals there have been rioting over anything and everything lately and threatening the local villas. You’re to become a
beneficiarius
while you are there.”

Unsure, Terentius asked, “I am reassigned to an auxiliary?”

“Temporarily. You will still be in the twentieth, Centurion. But they need someone with a firm and fair hand to command the policing for a short time. Until another auxiliary centurion can be promoted. Consider disenfranchisement from your men your punishment for the time being. When I hear that you’ve captured and dealt with Sulla, I will consider your return to this fortress.”

Swallowing his desire to argue, Terentius saluted. “As you will it, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Relief coursed through Terentius in a dizzying wave. When he left the
principia
and took the Via Principia toward his quarters, he drew in one deep, refreshing breath after another. A trembling started deep down as he realized the gods and goddess hadn’t forsaken him after all. All around him men went about their daily routines. He savored the din, the voices, the cursing, the smells.

Redemption had found him.

He’d barely reached his quarters when his optio, Domitius Quintus Victor strode toward him. Concern flickered in the man’s dark eyes, but he smiled. As customary, the optio saluted his superior. “Are you dead, then?”

Terentius chuckled, finding release for the tension that had tightened his limbs while he’d stood in Cilo’s office. “No.”

Relief further eased Victor’s face. “What is your punishment? Or should I say
our
punishment?”

Amused, Terentius schooled his face into false gravity. “I explained you had no part in the failure to keep Sulla in line. You’re safe from punishment. At least the kind that results in death.”

Victor’s face relaxed somewhat, but wariness stayed in his eyes. “And you? Will we see your face come tomorrow?”

“Come with me.
We
have orders to fulfill.”

As they entered through the wooden door leading to Terentius’s quarters, Terentius took in the noise that echoed in his room. Nothing short of five thousand soldiers lived and worked in this fortress, and their sounds penetrated even these thick stone walls.

Victor chuckled as Terentius yanked off his helmet and laid it on a table nearby the door. “Am I going to like these orders?”

“It means we stay alive, we have bloody adventures and we hunt down Sulla.”

Victor grinned. “I’m excited.”

Terentius rubbed his stubbled jaw. “You didn’t worry we might be executed?”

A shadow passed through the big man’s face as he looked down from his slightly superior height. “If it be the desire of the gods, I would have gone to my death willingly.”

Pride and determination etched the optio’s face, and Terentius couldn’t argue with his friend. Emotion welled inside, breath restricted as he realized the threat of a dishonorable death had rattled him far more than he realized. “We could have died without honor. I would rather die in battle.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed, as if he understood Terentius’s inner torment. Terentius waited as Victor nodded, then smiled. “That would be my preferred way to go, if given a choice.” Looking uncomfortable now, Victor asked, “My interrogations proved helpful?”

“They did. We’re off to Durovigutum.”

“The auxiliary?”

“The very same.”

“Fuck me.”

“It is part of our punishment.”

“No, that’s not why I’m complaining.”

Terentius glared. “Then why
are
you complaining?”

“Because I hear the women are ugly in that part of the country.”

Terentius laughed. “Is that all you think about? Getting into cunny?”

“What else is there?”