Soldier of Rome: The Centurion (The Artorian Chronicles) by James Mace

they’re still serviceable. After that the men can rest and break for their afternoon meal.”
    “Yes , sir,” the Decanii answered together before departing.
    Artorius walked over to the large shade tree and sat down against it, removing his sandals.
    “Damn that feels good!” he told Praxus, who sat across from him on the grass, also removing his footwear.
    “You chose the perfect day to take the men out,” the Optio replied. “I think after all they’ve been through, they needed this. Doubtless they will be cursing the cold come nightfall, but for now all is right with them.”
    “I put the word out that they all needed to pack at least an extra blanket,” Artorius reminded him. “I’m the worst when it comes to the cold, so if I can handle it they should be just fine.”
    As he finished speaking Rufio and Magnus walked over. The Signifier was eating an apple and stretching out his back.
    “Any thoughts on what you want the lads to do for the rest of the day?” Magnus asked. “I know we’re not in hostile territory, so the men can be more at ease. I just thought we’d have something for them to do this afternoon.”
    “There’s wild boar in this region,” Praxus observed. “Maybe some of our best javelin throwers should be sent off on a little hunt.”
    “I like it,” Artorius agreed. “Have each squad send its best javelin thrower out. They’ll all go together, I don’t want anyone getting lost or gored by a boar. Tell them five denarii awaits whoever brings down a boar with his javelin first. Have some of the others dig us a pit and gather firewood, also have them refill our water bladders with fresh spring water; there’s a source nearby. Provided our javelin throwers hit their targets, we should have us some spitted boar for supper.”
    That evening would see the Second Century gathered over a large fire, a pair of boars roasting on spits. To no one’s surprise, Legionary Gavius had proven his mettle as the best javelin thrower in the Century, downing a running boar from a distance of nearly twenty meters. Another legionary had brought down a boar as well, after a struggle in a thicket. Even though Gavius had killed his first, Artorius had elected to grant both men the five denarii stipend, which was approximately a week’s pay for a legionary.
    “Not quite as good as the boars back home, mind you,” Magnus said with his mouth full. He took a drink off his water bladder and lay back with his hands behind his head. Artorius, too, took a long drink of the cool fresh water and let out a relaxed sigh. The night was cold, and his breath fogged in front of him. He wrapped his cloak around himself and leaned back against the tree.
    “You know, old friend, life is good.”
     
    Spring and summer would prove uneventful, though as expected, Artorius did succeed in defending his Legion Champion title once more. He was disappointed when Magnus did not enter the tournament, as he felt his Nordic friend had the best chance of beating him. He also felt that he had never fully gotten out of the shadow of his mentor, Vitruvius, who had retired from competition unbeaten. Artorius had, once in a private sparring match, fought his Cohort Commander to a draw, though this was only after being soundly beaten by him for several years.
    His duties as a Centurion kept him occupied, despite the frontier enjoying a long-lasting, if ever uneasy, peace. Diana was utilizing her personal fortune to have a manor house built for them outside the fortress. Valens, whose common-law wife was Magnus’ sister, Svetlana, had allowed her to stay in a spare room at their modest flat while the manor was being built. It was crowded between the three of them, plus Valens’ slave woman, Erin, and her son three-year old son, Tynan. The thought of a Roman noblewoman living under such conditions would have scandalized most; yet Lady Diana found a sense of comfort and realism that was absent amongst the false flattery and constant