Soldier of Rome: Journey to Judea (The Artorian Chronicles) (4 page)

Chapter III: The Emperor’s Hand

The Imperial Estates of Villa Jovis, Isle of Capri

***

Storms of winter’s death throes always wrecked havoc on the Mediterranean. Tiberius watched as the Roman warship heav
ed in the deep rolling waves, a brave group of men dropping into a small rowboat to make their way to the Emperor’s private dock. Though there were public docks at the busy port, correspondence from Sejanus came via this small alcove that few knew existed.

For even in self-imposed exile on the Isle of Capri,
from these treacherous waters Tiberius controlled the vastness that was the Roman Empire. One such boat had been smashed to pieces in the surf the week before, though as a stroke of good fortune a couple of the bodies had washed ashore, one of which still had the satchel bearing the imperial correspondence. The men of this particular venture had better luck. Their boat slammed hard into the dock but stayed afloat. Men were waiting on the pier, ready to tie off the ropes that would secure the boat in place. Satisfied that there would be no further mishaps, the emperor retired to his study to await the messengers.

Tiberius
Julius Caesar was now seventy-two years of age and had ruled the Roman Empire for seventeen of those. For him it was a hateful existence. Never had he desired to take the reins of ultimate power once Augustus passed into eternity. In truth, he would have rather met his fate in battle years ago in places he conquered like Pannonia or Dalmatia. He despised politics and felt that the only true calling for a Roman noble was leading her armies into battle. He detested those pompous fools in the senate who took it upon themselves to decide the fate of citizens in far off regions such as Syria and Judea, when they themselves had never left the soft comforts of their own estates. It was regarding Judea that the man who he referred to as ‘the partner in my labors’ wished to address.

“Messages from
the Consul Lucius Aelius Sejanus to his Imperial Highness, Tiberius Julius Caesar,” the messenger stated with a sharp salute which the emperor returned.

A clerk then took the satchel of scrolls and started to hand them to Tiberius, who silently read through each in turn.

The messenger was a young man in his early twenties who was visiting Capri for the first time. He appeared to be extremely nervous in the presence of the master of Rome. Despite his advanced age, the emperor still emulated power. Yet there was an ever-growing paradox regarding the man who had once been one of Rome’s greatest generals.

Doubtless
the messenger had been listening to all the gossips for years, about how Tiberius was growing ever more tyrannical and living in despondency with a fetish for young boys. Such abominable stories were pure fabrication, as he would soon see. The residents of the isle consisted of praetorian guardsmen, philosophers, scholars, freedmen clerks, and slaves. A number of prostitutes also resided there, though these were predominantly for the entertainment of the praetorians. The emperor had his personal favorites that he liked to indulge in on occasion. However, most of his days were spent with men of learning who were in some cases older than he. Though he appreciated their company, there was no affection, no friendship there. Despite being surrounded by hundreds on a daily basis, Emperor Tiberius Caesar was the loneliest man in the empire.

“Pontius Pilate is once again asking for a legion,” the
emperor observed out loud.

The freedman clerk snorted in reply.
“He’s been asking for legionaries since he took over Judea.”

“Yes, but this time he seems to have finally convinced Sejanus to throw his support behind the notion.” Tiberius handed the scroll to the clerk. It read:

To the Emperor Tiberius Julius Caesar Augustus, greetings,

While I know this subject has been broached on numerous occasions regarding the repeated requests by our Judean Procurator, Pontius Pilate, regarding the supplementation of his garrison with legionaries, it is after much contemplation that I think we should partially cede to his request. I must be candid and state that despite your eminence’s affections for the Judean prince, Herod Agrippa, the land of the Jews is, and always will be, one of extreme volatility. While I mean no disrespect towards the Syrian Legate, Lamia; his assertion that he can put down any potential troubles with his eastern legions leaves open the possibility that the entire Judean province could be overrun by insurrectionists before his forces have time to mobilize. Doubtless the inexhaustible number of Jewish zealots are aware of this. Were they ever able to mass their numbers, they could overrun Jerusalem as well as our capital at Caesarea in the hopes of suing for peace soon after. They must never be given the opportunity to entertain such thoughts.

The other issue at hand is the very troops Pilate has at his disposal. As the Judeans are an extremely arrogant people who
, as a whole, would never stoop to working for the Roman government, the few who have volunteered are from the lowest dregs of society; hate-filled men whose loyalty is measured in coin and drink. He has, therefore, had to rely heavily on Samaritan auxiliaries. As you are well aware, the animosity between Jew and Samaritan goes back millennia. The only people the Judeans hate more than us are the Samaritans, and the feeling is reciprocated. The auxiliaries are unorganized, undisciplined, and have ruled through brutality and terror.

Their officers are little better and have
, on more than one occasion, outright ignored Pilate’s orders. Their commander, an auxilia Centurion named Abenader, means well enough, but he is largely ineffective at keeping his subordinates in line. Case in point, the protests that began after Pilate used temple funds for the new aqueduct. Pilate specifically ordered his men to use clubs only to disperse the crowd. As noted in the complaint sent from the Sanhedrin, the auxiliaries used their swords to scatter the crowd, killing dozens. Yet with the shortage of suitable men to serve as officers, Pilate could do little but verbally chastise those responsible. I am confident that had his men been legionaries they could have handled the mob efficiently and without needless bloodshed.

Therefore, in the interest of maintaining good order in the province, as well as empowering the procurator to better enforce our will, I recommend we grant Pilate a legion. I understand this is technically illegal in that as an equite Pilate is ineligible to command a legion; therefore
, I suggest we place the legion under Legate Lamia and operationally attach it to Judea under Pilate. This should clear up any legal ramifications.

Your humble colleague,

Lucius Aelius Sejanus

It was no small irony that as an equite himself, Sejanus’ appointment as joint consul with Tiberius was also technically illegal. He was of the lesser nobility, commander of the praetorian guard, and now sharing in power with the emperor himself. Had the senate showed any stomach and stood up to Tiberius when he made the appointment, he would have withdrawn it. As it was, the senate was mostly spineless old men who were more afraid of gaining the emperor’s displeasure than they were of enforcing Roman law. There were exceptions; an up and coming legate named Vitellius being one. Tiberius tried to make certain that those whose appointments to governorships he approved were not only capable of independent rule, but also courageous enough to let the emperor know when they felt he was wrong. Though Vitellius had not gone as far as to oppose Sejanus’ appointment as consul; doubtless he would be outraged to have an equite in command of a legion.

“Mmm, so what will you tell Sejanus?” The voice of Gaius Caligula startled the
emperor.

“I told you never to read over my shoulder like that!” Tiberius snapped, causing Caligula to bow low.

“Apologies, uncle,” he replied. “Merely concerned over the welfare of our dear eastern provinces.”

“Yes,” Tiberius snorted. “I forgot you spent a lot of time there in your youth.”

“Oh yes,” his great-nephew replied with a grin. “Delicious place, the east; I was practically raised there. Such a fitting jewel in the crown of our beloved empire.”

Tiberius was
at times uncertain as to why he kept Gaius Caligula so close to him on Capri. Personally, he found him to be utterly repulsive; nothing at all like his revered father, the late Germanicus Caesar. His two older brothers had been convicted of plotting against the emperor, as was their mother, Agrippina. Along with Gaius, only his sisters, Julia Drusilla and Julia Livilla, remained unscathed by the family scandals. All three were kept on Capri, and in many circles viewed as little more than prisoners of the emperor.

That Tiberius may be planning on grooming Caligula as a potential heir scarcely entered anyone’s minds. Tiberius was, after all, only Rome’s second emperor, and there was little precedent when it came to naming a successor. If the
empire had, in fact, evolved into a type of hereditary monarchy, then the only viable candidates were Tiberius’ twelve-year old grandson, Gemellus, and Gaius Caligula. There were factions who pressed for the recognizing of Tiberius’ nephew, Claudius, as a potential heir. Though the brother of Germanicus, the fact that he was a stuttering invalid made Tiberius dismiss him completely.

“So tell me, uncle,” Caligula persisted, “
What will you tell Sejanus about lovely Judea?”

“I’ll not place a legion under the command of an equite,” Tiberius replied.

“Well, that’s odd, given that you made one consul!” Caligula retorted.

The
emperor gritted his teeth but refrained from lashing out at the young man. It was clear that Caligula was attempting to get a reaction from Tiberius, and he was not about to take the bait. As much as it grated on him, he knew the vile young man was correct. That he would make Sejanus consul and yet deny Pontius Pilate authority over a single legion was, indeed, hypocritical.

“I do not have a spare legion just lying around, doing nothing,” Tiberius remarked, keeping his composure despite Caligula’s impudence. “Still, I think we can reach a compromise that will
preserve the balance between the senate and equites, while giving Sejanus and Pilate the support they requested.”

Chapter
IV: Seasons End

***

Spring
was always a time of reflection for Artorius, especially with the news he’d just received from Dominus. This winter marked sixteen years since he ascended into the ranks. On days when he thought back on the time spent in the legions, his mind sometimes turned to friends from his youth; those who had not gone off to war on the frontier. Many days he pitied their dull and sedentary lives. He had seen more in his first year in the Twentieth Legion than all of them would ever see in their combined existence. His profession gave him stability, a guaranteed source of income, as well as security. Many who he grew up with were barely surviving. Others fared better, but were in vocations that left them stale and devoid of life. Yet for all that the legions had given him, it came at a terrible price.

The first time he had drawn his sword in anger, Artorius had learned the painful lesson that war was nothing like the historians and philosophers described. Every time he took the life of another human being, it felt as if a part of him died with them.
His very soul would break whenever a friend and fellow legionary fell. It was no small wonder that men who spent too much time on the battle lines often became shells of what they once were, expressions dull and lifeless. Such was the toll for those who kept the empire’s borders safe. The coming summer would mark three years since the Battle of Braduhenna; by far the most savage clash he ever engaged in. Though the battle had been won, nearly half his men had either perished or  were so badly injured that they would never fight again. Those two days still haunted him, and on nights where he woke up trembling in a cold sweat, his wife, Diana, would do her best to console him. He had spent the last three years trying to rebuild his century into some semblance of the fighting force they had once been.

The skirmish in the outlying village had given his newest recruits a taste of battle and they had performed admirably enough.
His plan had been rather brazen and it left him temporarily exposed. However, it did allow Praxus to envelope the raiders with the rest of the century.

As he brooded over the events from the previous evening,
he had hoped to take part in the pending expedition that the commanding legates of both legions were planning. It would by no means be a full-scale invasion; that would require approval of both the emperor and Senate. Along the empire’s ever-hostile borders, it was not uncommon for preemptive raids and punitive expeditions to cross beyond the frontier and teach a brutal lesson to Rome’s many enemies.

T
he letter he had just received looked to change everything. He looked down at the scroll clutched in his hand before turning his gaze towards the setting sun. For Centurion Artorius, he would be heading east, just not across the Rhine into Germania.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Magnus mused as
he walked up behind him.

Artorius turned to face his Nordic friend and fellow
centurion. The two men had come up through the ranks and been close friends ever since their days of recruit training. Artorius’ promotions had been extraordinarily rapid, and he’d received command of the century while his friend was still a decanus.

“Pity we almost never see each other anymore,” Artorius replied.

Magnus had been awarded the Civic Crown for extreme valor at Braduhenna and had subsequently been promoted to the
centurionate. This had required him leaving the Third Cohort and transferring to the Fourth, which was still being rebuilt after its members had panicked and committed mass suicide in a strange turn of events that none of them would ever fully understand. 

“I h
eard the master centurion say the other day that you’ve taken a century’s worth of raw recruits and made them into one of the best units within the entire legion.”

“Then Macro exaggerates,” Magnus replied with a chuckle. He then tossed his friend a clay wine jug. “Here, I thought you could use some refreshment. I stopped by your house and the Lady Diana told me you had gone off
for some
thinking
. I know that anytime you go off into deep thoughts, it usually means you need a drink.”

Artorius took a long pull off the wine jug and then handed it back to Magnus, who started to drink as well.

“I’m leaving Germania,” Artorius replied, causing Magnus to spew wine everywhere.

“Come again?” the Norseman asked, his eyes wide.

Artorius handed him the scroll that had arrived along with the orders from Rome. It bore the seal of Pontius Pilate, Procurator of Judea.

Magnus began to read, vocally stating the last line;
it is time to redeem your promise
. “What is Pilate talking about?” he asked after he finished reading.

“A long time ago, I made a promise to him,” Artorius explained. “I swore that I would serve under him anytime he needed me. He needs me now, Magnus.”

“But I though
t Judea was only authorized an auxilia garrison.”

“Not anymore,” Artorius replied, shaking his head
and handing him the scroll from Rome. “Though the emperor will not authorize Pilate an entire legion, he is allowing him to raise a single cohort of volunteers from throughout the empire.”

“Well
, if he’s looking at you to lead this mob…” Magnus began as Artorius’ face broke into a broad grin.

“That means I
may finally see Centurion Pilus Prior, regardless of my enemies’ best intentions.” Though not one for political intrigue, Artorius had a number of adversaries in Rome, even a few in the senate. Such had made any promotions beyond centurion seem unlikely at best. That he was now selected for cohort commander would be intolerable to those who had done their best to hinder his career.

“Then we should be drinking in celebration!” the Norseman said with a boisterous laugh. He gave his friend a smack on the shoulder before taking a long pull off the jug.

“I’ll miss you, old friend,” Artorius replied.

“Miss me nothing,” Magnus retorted. “Wherever you go I shall follow!”

“If only it were that simple,” Artorius observed. “Were we both still legionaries, it would not be an issue. Even if Macro does exaggerate, and I for one do not think he does, then we will be hard-pressed to convince him to let go of one of his best centurions, especially with an expedition across the Rhine pending.”

Magnus let out a loud belch and handed the jug
back to his friend. “Piss on that,” he retorted. “This posting comes from Pilate via Sejanus, and therefore the emperor himself. I’m certain you can get whomever you wish. Besides, they’re not going to send all of both legions to slap around the Marsi. I’m sure I can be spared. After all, none of us are indispensable.”

“That may be,” Artorius concurred. “However, I will not go around Macro’s back; I have too much personal loyalty to him.” Platorius Macro had taken command of the Second Century before Artorius and Magnus and first enlisted. His tenure had been an exceptionally long ten years with Artorius serving as his optio for the final two.

“Apologies,” Magnus replied. “I did not mean any disrespect towards our
master centurion. And I would never insinuate going behind him, I simply thought perhaps he would be willing to allow me to accompany you, given who the orders are coming from.”

“Well, the answer is ‘no’ if we don’t ask.”

A rather burly praetorian greeted Gaius Caligula as he left the bathhouse near Villa Jovis. He’d had a most invigorating rubdown from a North African slave and was debating how to further amuse himself this day. He knew this particular guardsman who now approached him or at least knew enough about him to recognize his unbridled ambition. Such could prove useful to the young man who had great ambitions of his own.

“Naevius Suetorius Macro, is it?” Caligula asked as he casually tossed the fold of his toga over his shoulder.

“Acting deputy prefect of the praetorian guard,” the big man asserted.

“Ah, still only
acting
deputy prefect,” Caligula chided as he walked down the stone steps and onto the path that led towards the town.

“As long as Pontius Pilate still holds the actual billet, yes,” Naevius conceded.

“What a shame that is,” Caligula persisted, “you do all the work, and he gets to keep the title for himself.”

“Quite,” Naevius grunted. “Still, I did not come to talk to you about my posting or lack thereof.”

“Ah, but I think you did,” Caligula stated as he quickly turned and faced the man. “You did not come to exchange pleasantries nor did you come to bathe, though you could most certainly use it!”

Naevius snorted at the insult, but gave a curt nod of acknowledgment.
As Sejanus’ deputy, he found himself constantly on the move between Capri and Rome. The praetorian prefect rarely came to Capri anymore, perhaps afraid that if he left the city his enemies might use the opportunity to move against him. What he did not know was that Naevius was no mere lackey who was content in his current posting.

“I think you and I could find each other useful,”
the praetorian replied.

“Hmm,” C
aligula thought for a moment, “Not sure what use I could possibly have for an
acting
deputy prefect.” He waved a hand dismissively and started to walk away when the praetorian grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

“Damn it, man!” Naevius growled. “
Your position here is not as secure as you think. Don’t be a fool. You need all the friends you can get!”

“Unhand me, sir!” Caligula snapped indignantly, pulling his arm away, eyes growing wide. “I should have you arrested and flogged for this insult!”

“You mean like how I arrested and flogged your brothers?” Naevius replied, his demeanor suddenly cool.

Gaius looked off to the side briefly and cocked his head slightly.
“You say we could find each other useful,” he noted. Though a young man of highly questionable morals and tastes, one could never accuse Gaius Caligula of being naïve. “How?”

“We both want what is rightfully ours,” Naevius answered. “We should talk more in private.”

“Yes,” Caligula said, lost in thought.
His tone immediately changed, almost as if it was he who had approached Naevius in the first place. “If you are half as ambitious as I am clever, then we may find each other useful after all.” He then started to walk away once more. “By the way, I saw your wife accompanying you from the main docks. Lovely creature.”

“She is at your disposal.” The
praetorian’s remark caught Caligula off guard, and he stopped in his tracks. His eyes were wide once more as he turned and faced Naevius, who was grinning crassly.

“My
, but you
are
ambitious!” Caligula noted. “I think we shall get on famously. Send her to me tonight, and tomorrow we’ll talk.”

Naevius bowed in reply before turning and walking away.

“You know this should have happened three years ago,” Magnus said. “After Braduhenna they needed a number of cohort commanders replaced, and you ought to have been on the short list…especially after holding the line on the right flank!”