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

cut off by the sword that ran through his neck. Blood gushed in torrents onto Artorius’ arms as he held the man upright against the wall, his fat, grotesque body twitching pathetically. As his victim’s eyes clouded over and rolled into the back of his head, Artorius jerked his weapon free and let the body fall. It slid down slowly, staining the wall with streaks of blood. Fulvius continued to spasm as blood and spittle spewed from his mouth, as well as the sides of his ruptured neck. Artorius dropped his gladius onto the nearest table and ran to check on the legionary, who was still unconscious on the floor. Vitruvius immediately regained his composure, in spite of what he had just witnessed, and knelt down to help him.
    “ He’s been beaten pretty badly,” he observed as Artorius ran his hands over the man, checking the extent of his injuries.
    “He’s got some broken ribs and nasty cuts, but at least his skull is still intact,” the Optio replied. The legionary coughed quietly and tried to open his eyes.
    “Optio…Artorius,” he whispered through the blood and slobber that caked his lips.
    “It’s alright son,” Artorius replied. “He won’t be hurting you, or anyone else, anymore.” Just then two legionaries rushed into the office through the still open door, gladii drawn.
    “What the fuck happened?” one of the men asked.
    “Get a medic,” Artorius ordered. “This man is badly hurt and needs to be taken to the hospital as soon as possible.”
    “Yes sir,” the legionary replied. It was only then that they noticed the corpse of their Centurion. It was sitting partially upright, blood still running down each side of the neck like a macabre waterfall, his tongue protruding from the side of his mouth. The two legionaries could not help but smile.
    “Nicely done,” one of them whispered.
    “Gods damn it!” Artorius snapped. “What part of ‘get a medic’ did you two not understand?” The legionaries immediately left the office after a brief tousle when they both tried to get out the door first. Artorius could not make out what was said between the two, but one started for the hospital, while the other ran back towards the barracks.
    “The whole bloody legion will know about this before the hour is up,” Vitruvius observed with a scowl.
    “That they will,” Artorius replied. He then gave the legionary a final assessment before rising to his feet. Walking over to the table he picked up his gladius and stared at the blood-soaked blade. He then looked over at the man he had just slain and allowed himself a defiant sneer of his own.
    “Where are your powerful friends now?” he mocked. Taking a deep breath he became serious once more. He turned and faced Vitruvius, glancing one more time at his weapon and wiped it off with a rag on the table before offering it to the Centurion, pommel first. “You have to place me under arrest, you know.”
    “Look Artorius…”
    “Now is not the time to get sentimental,” the Optio stressed. “Vitruvius, you are my friend, but I have committed murder.”
    “Murder of a vile man , who was about to needlessly kill one of our own men!” the Centurion spat, reluctantly taking the gladius from Artorius.
    “That may be,” Artorius agreed, “but Fulvius was right when he said that he has powerful friends. They won’t stop until I have been strangled for his execution. I knew when I killed him that I was sacrificing myself by doing so. And yet…I could not allow him to harm another one of my men! If my own life is the price to be paid for their safety, then it is a price I am willing to pay.” Vitruvius remained silent as he walked over to where Fulvius had dropped his gladius. The Centurion picked up the weapon and placed it next to the dead man’s hand.
    “The record will show that he was still armed and posing a direct threat when you defended yourself,” Vitruvius explained. Artorius gave a hapless grin and nodded.
    The office became alive with