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

replacement. “Wil l you excuse us?”
    “Of course. I think we’re pretty much done here anyway.” He eyed the woman over before leaving.
    Artorius then made his own assessment. She was rather fetching and looked to be in her early twenties. She was very shapely, with auburn hair that reached just past her shoulders. There was something about her that seemed familiar to Artorius, but he could not place from where. For some reason, she kept looking at the floor and was fumbling with her hands. His eyes then fell upon a leather cord around her neck that seemed out of place with the rest of her garb. Whatever hung from it was tucked into her stola.
    “Well , my dear,” he said, folding his hands in front of him. “What is it I can do for you? To start, do you have a name?”
    “My name is Marcia Marcella,” she replied, looking at him and swallowing hard. It seemed as if she was awestruck to be in his presence, which Artorius found made him uncomfortable. Her next words nearly caused him to fall over. “My mother was Camilla Corda. I…I think I may be your daughter.”
     

Chapter V: Oceans of Time
    ***
     
    Artorius paced back and forth behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back. He had met the young woman once before, albeit twenty years prior, just after the death of her mother, who she resembled subtly. It was that resemblance that caused Artorius to sense a familiarity about her.
    “You certainly are Camilla’s daughter,” he noted. “You even wear your hair, and kind of carry yourself, like she did.”
    A flood of memories came over him, though they were more long-lost feelings rather than remembrances of specific events. Even though Camilla had been his first love, twenty-four years and countless experiences had passed since he last saw her. He then noticed the small medallion hanging around her neck that had fallen out of her stola. It was well-worn on its leather cord, but if one looked closely they could still see the image it bore of the goddess Diana.
    “ This may sound strange,” Marcia said, following his gaze and grasping the medallion, “but I remember when you gave this to me. It’s silly, I know, given that I was barely three. I have no recollection of my mother and can only envision the heat of fire and clouds of black smoke from her funeral pyre. And yet, I have never forgotten the gallant soldier who gave me this.” She then palmed the old medallion reverently.
    “Your mother gave that to me, just before I left for the legions,” Artorius explained. “ After she departed this life for the Plain of Asphodel, I felt it was only right that it pass on to you.”
    “Then you do think you are my father?” Marcia asked, her eyes wide with hope.
    Artorius’ expression and slight shake of the head dashed those thoughts. “No,” he replied. “Though I wish I was. When, precisely,  were you born?”
    “The man whose house I lived in, for I never called him ‘father’, said I was born at the end of May, a year following the triumph of Germanicus Caesar.”
    “And would he have any reason to lie to you about this?” Artorius persisted , as Marcia slowly realized where the conversation was leading.
    “No,” she said, swallowing hard. “I don’t think he knew of your existence nor did he care what transgressions my mother may have done. He divorced her soon after I was born, blaming her because I was not a boy.”
    “If we can assume that your date of birth is as you’ve been told, then it is impossible for me to be your father. The Triumph of Germanicus was in May, a full year before you were born. I returned to the Rhine as soon as it ended, and I never saw your mother again. I am truly sorry, and believe me when I say that I felt a bond with you when I gave you that medallion. I had hoped at that time that you were mine, but I knew, even then, that it was impossible. Though I never saw your mother again, I also think that if there was any chance I had a daughter, she would