Soldier of Rome: The Legionary (The Artorian Chronicles) by James Mace Read Free Book Online

Teutoburger disaster. A reconnaissance party had spotted the ragtag bunch and almost attacked them until one of them starting shouting in perfect Latin that he was a member of the Eighteenth Legion and had survived the massacre. There had only been a couple other groups of survivors found so far. The largest had been led out by Cassius Chaerea, a tribune with the Nineteenth. One hundred twenty had been with that group. Another group of about fifteen who escaped being captured turned up a week later. This latest group looked like it had been hit the hardest. There were only six of them, and they were a frightful sight.
    Tiberius was stone -faced as he watched the men pass through the gate, yet his heart broke for them. Two were borne on litters hastily constructed by the reconnaissance party. The others stood, heads lowered in shame, their clothes tattered, bodies covered in partly healed bruises and infected lacerations.
    “What are we going to do with them, Tiberius?” a centurion asked. “I mean, after we feed them and treat their wounds, of course.”
    Tiberius’ expression remained unchanged. “We welcome them back. We tell them that the fault of the disaster is not theirs. The blame rests with one man alone, that damned Quintilius Varus, who now burns in hell. These men will take their proper places back amongst the ranks.”
    “But , sir, what of the Emperor’s standing order about not accepting back soldiers who have been publicly disgraced? I pity them, yes, but I do not know if it would be proper, in the Emperor’s eyes at least, to accept them back as if nothing happened.”
    Tiberius turned to face the centurion. “Centurion, you, as a professional soldier and a practical man, should realize that with the loss of life we have suffered, we need every man we can get. The shame and disgrace lies not with these men.”
    “Yes , sir.” The centurion smiled and nodded. He felt the same way, but had to be sure of his Commander’s feelings and intentions.
    Without further delay, Ti berius walked up to each soldier in turn. He placed his hands on each man’s shoulders and kissed them all on the forehead. He next grasped each of the litter-bound soldiers by the hand in a sign of friendship. He then took a step back and with a sweeping gesture of his arm towards the camp, said, “Welcome home, my brothers and friends.”
    The s oldiers stood dumbfounded. After all, they had just returned from the biggest disgrace an army had suffered since any could remember. No one could recall a time when a single Eagle had been taken, let alone three. Indeed, none of these legionaries had been alive during the disaster in Parthia, under Crassus, a generation before. Yet here was the Commanding General of the Army of the Rhine, a man all of them knew was destined to be the next Emperor of Rome, welcoming them back. They slowly started to walk towards the interior of the camp where legionaries stood ready with fresh clothes, bandages and medicine for their wounds, hot food for their empty stomachs, wine and companionship to salve their shattered souls. Theirs’ was a bond only soldiers could understand. Yet one soldier stood fast where he was. Tiberius walked over to him. The man was young, in his early to mid twenties. He had little to no facial hair, in spite of his lack of a shave. His eyes did not look as lost as those of his companions. Rather they were filled with stark awareness of horror and sorrow.
    “Why do you not join your compani ons?” Tiberius asked the young soldier.
    “What righ t do I have to join them?” the soldier asked, his voice breaking as he looked at the ranks of the Twentieth Legion. “We failed you, sir. We failed the Emperor, we failed Rome. Worst of all, we failed each other. I’ll never forget the savage horrors we witnessed. I can still hear the screams of the tortured as they begged for death. Some had their tongues cut out. The barbarians thought that by eating the tongue of a Roman they