Read Online Soldier of Rome: The Last Campaign (The Artorian Chronicles) by James Mace - Free Book Online Page B

dismounted his horse and clasped his friend’s hand before boarding the waiting ship. “I am sorry, old friend. I do wish it had ended differently for you.”
    “As do I,” Artorius replied. “My political enemies were very patient, and after what happened in Judea, they were able to exact at least some retribution.” He then watched his friend make his way up the boarding ramp and was soon on his way to Capri. He reckoned, perhaps, it was time he took his wife on a holiday as well; a very long one.
     
    For Artorius, it had been four years since his return from the east. The Battle of Mount Gerizim, which had seen over a thousand Samaritan rioters slaughtered by both auxiliaries as well as Artorius’ own legionaries, had cost him his command of the First Italic Cohort. Though never criminally charged, he was removed from his position, with the cohort disbanded and its members sent back to the legions. Artorius was the only one not to return to the ranks, instead being named Prefect of Vigiles for Ostia which was, essentially, command of an urban cohort, meant to keep the peace on the busy docks of the port city. Though his men were more agreeable to work with than the undisciplined auxiliaries that had plagued him in Judea, they were nowhere near the caliber of legionaries.
    Although h e and his wife, Diana, were grateful to be home after many years away, their lives had been beset by personal tragedy. Within six months of his return, Artorius’ father had finally succumbed after many years of poor health. That winter, his stepmother, Juliana, had fallen violently ill and died before the spring.
    “They were such wonderful people,” Diana said one evening as they lounged on the couches in their small dining hall. “A pity I did not get to spend more time getting to know them.”
    “Father’s health had been declining for many years,” Artorius noted. “When he was younger, he was able to work through the pain of the leg injury he suffered in the legions many years before I was even born. But as time went on, it slowed him considerably, and the stress of owning the vineyards took its toll on him. I wish he had accepted Cursor’s offer to buy the place or, in the very least, let me purchase the vineyards from him and install an overseer. I had spoken once to Juliana about it, and she seemed to embrace the idea. Sadly, father’s pride would have none of it.”
    “Cursor and Adela do seem to enjoy having a place just outside the city,” Diana observed. After Juliana passed on, Artorius had asked his friend if he was still interested in purchasing the villa and vineyards, which the tribune was. “Do you ever regret selling him your childhood home?”
    “No,” Artorius replied, shaking his head. “It’s been twenty-six years since I left. It ceased to be ‘home’ for me a long time ago. After Father and Juliana died, I no longer felt any connection to the place.”
    It bewildered Diana to hear her husband mention just how many years had passed. He was now forty-three, she was forty-five, and yet neither of them looked or felt remotely close to their age. Though both Artorius and Diana were physically in the prime of health and looked far younger than they were, the memories of all that had transpired over the years was sometimes overwhelming. A decade had passed since they left the Rhine frontier for Judea. The battle they had fought on their sea voyage with a renegade pirate ship sometimes felt like it had happened within the last month, rather than ten years ago.
    Their reminiscing about the past was interrupted by their freedman, Proximo, who entered with a short bow.
    “Forgive me, sir, but you have an honored guest.”
    “Guest?” Artorius asked. “But we are not expecting anyone. Who is it?”
    “Centurion Metellus Artorius Posthumous,” the freedman answered , as in walked Artorius’ adopted son.
    He was in full armor, wearing the harness with his phalerae campaign medals and decorations. His