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

always been a bit leery of them.”
    “Romans are like any other men,” Tabbo remarked. “There are good and evil amongst them. The difference is one evil man can ruin an entire people.”
    “You speak of the new magistrate,” Klaes observed. “I don’t know much about him, just that he is a former Centurion.”
    “A Centurion who gained his rank through birth and personal favors of the aristocracy,” Tabbo sneered. “I’ve seen such men before. They are as weak as they are hungry for power. They bully those beneath them because they think it masks their masculine shortfalls.”
    “ At least the last magistrate proved harmless enough,” Klaes responded. “He collected taxes for the Emperor and left Father to rule in peace.”
    “I agree the last man to represent Roman interests in Frisia was of little regard,” the war chief conceded. “However, he was simply a lazy man fulfilling his required duty. I cannot say for certain why I feel so uneasy about this former Centurion, but something about this makes my skin crawl.”
    “Any idea where he had been stationed?” the prince asked as they reached the northern bridge leading west across the Rhine. On the other side was a small Roman fort, garrisoned by a single Cohort of legionaries and a handful of Batavian auxiliaries. The two men stopped and stared across the bridge. Tabbo breathed deeply through his nose and let out a resigned sigh.
    “ Egypt,” he replied finally as they turned east, away from the bridge and towards the Frisian capital. He did not feel like watching Roman drill practice this day. “The bastard lived a pampered existence there his entire twenty years. Egypt has been at peace since the fall of the Ptolemy dynasty more than fifty years ago. Soldiers stationed in that corner of the Empire grow fat and spoiled gorging on Egyptian wealth.”
    “ As long as he does nothing more than collect the taxes and leaves us in peace it doesn’t matter,” Klaes replied hopefully.
    Tabbo said nothing more, though he knew his friend had similar misgivings , as he did. He also knew that worrying about them would solve nothing.
     
    They passed by a grove, one dedicated to their goddess Freyja. Klaes smiled as he watched his cousin, Amke, lead a number of other young women through weapons drill. Each girl carried a short war axe or stabbing spear in one hand and a circular shield in the other. The drills that Amke lead them through were very similar to those conducted by male warriors.
    “I see you are not the only one who wishes to maintain their vigilance,” Klaes observed with an approving nod towards his cousin.
    “Amke was the right choice to lead the Daughters of Freyja ,” Tabbo said.
    “A symbolic position,” Klaes added, “though one of great honor. I have little doubt that the Daughters can fight readily enough. My father, the King, has been reluctant to use them as an active regiment. Instead he keeps them close, as an extension of his bodyguard.”
    “Is that because he doesn’t think these women are worthy of being warriors or is it simply to protect his niece?”
    It was a fair question. The women of Frisia served their people in one of two ways; either they married and bore Frisian children, or they joined the Daughters of Freyja and were trained as warriors. As a member of the royal family, Amke was chosen by King Dibbald to lead the Daughters despite the fact that she was just over a score in years.
    “I don’t think he doubts their courage or tenacity,” Klaes answered as they moved on. “Besides me, Amke is the only other child of the Segon line. Father loves her as if she were his own daughter.”
    Tabbo nodded, understanding the King’s desire to protect his niece.
    Klaes continued, “Our culture has always valued the fighting spirit of our women. It shocks other races that we would allow any of our women to take up arms. By the same token, it also makes them wary of attacking us. Most nations are conquered once the