Soldier of Rome: The Legionary (The Artorian Chronicles) (13 page)

Training continued for a couple more weeks. Road marches became more frequent. Like all phases of their conditioning, the degree of difficulty was gradually increased. Before he knew it, Artorius found that he could complete the full twenty-five miles in full kit without feeling exhausted. He also realized that he was becoming more and more proficient at weapons drill. He would use his muscular strength to knock his opponents off balance, and he was becoming faster with the gladius with each passing day. His accuracy with the javelin also improved. Eventually, he was able to call a spot where he was aiming and score a precise hit every time. Only Gavius bested him in accuracy with the javelin.

One afternoon, Valgus took them to a different part of the training field. There was a small
ballistae
set up on a stand. Out in front of it were bales of hay staggered at different ranges. Each bale had a human silhouette painted on it. Standing next to the ballistae was a centurion from the First Cohort and a tribune that Artorius recognized right away. It was Pontius Pilate, his old friend from school. Pilate smiled and nodded at Artorius in acknowledgement. The recruits formed up directly behind the ballistae.

“Recruits,” the
centurion began, placing his hand on the weapon, “this is the Scorpion. With me is Tribune Pontius Pilate, Chief of Artillery. I am Centurion Dionysus, Centurion of Artillery. Today we are going to show you men how to operate, maintain, and fire the Scorpion. There are sixty of these in the legion. During a campaign, each century assigns two soldiers to operate a Scorpion. These soldiers then come over and work with our catapult crews when needed. The Scorpion crew consists of a loader and a gunner.”

With that, he stood next to the Scorpion where there was a basket full of bolts. The bolts were
about five centimeters in diameter, and about thirty centimeters
in length. They had a sharp metal point on one end with four thin wooden guides on the back. There was a hand crank on each side of the Scorpion. Dionysus and Pilate each grabbed one and started to turn them rapidly. This caused the drawstring to pull back. When the cord was at maximum tension, the centurion placed a bolt into the feed tray. Pilate assumed the gunner’s position behind the weapon. At the end of the weapon was a pair of raised stakes. In between the stakes were two sticks laid horizontally. This acted as the sight Pilate was looking through.

“When firing,” he said, “you need to make a quick assessment of the range to your target. The Scorpion is accurate out to about two hundred meters. For close range targets, place the target in the center of your sight.
” He then hit the release that fired the weapon.

The bolt flew straight at the nearest bale, hitting precisely in the center of the man silhouette. The recruits were impressed. Dionysus and Pilate quickly cranked the drawstring back again and Dionysus placed another bolt into the feed tray.

“For targets further out, you’ll have to adjust the elevation,” Pilate said. “At maximum range, you should just barely be able to see the top of your target’s head in the sight.” He then looked down the sight and fired again.

The recruits watched as the bolt flew in an arc and impacted right in the center of the farthest target.

“Are there any questions?” Pilate asked.

The recruits
had none.

“
Alright, Antoninus, Gavius, you’re up first.”

Loading the scorpion was easy enough, but each recruit in turn struggled with hitting even the closest target.

“Don’t worry too much about it. It takes practice to get good at this,” Dionysus said upon seeing the frustration in Gavius’ face. “Pay attention to where the bolts strike and adjust the elevation accordingly.”

Artorius and Magnus had the same difficulties at first. Getting the left to
right lateral deviation was easy enough, but inducing just the right amount of elevation was becoming a nightmare.
Pilate must have spent hours practicing on this,
Artorius mused to himself. Finally, after much frustration and more than a few profane remarks, the recruits were able to hit most of the targets with decent accuracy. Only the farthest target continued to elude them.

“Something to keep in mind,” Pilate told them once he felt they were comfortable with shooting bales of hay, “most of the time your targets will not be stationary. When engaging a moving target, you must remember to induce lead, depending on how fast they are moving. You will also need to induce lead if there is a strong crosswind. Unfortunately
, we have no real way of practicing this here, so that is something that will just have to be learned first hand.”

After they finished practicing
, and as the other recruits were leaving, Pilate walked over to Artorius, who snapped to attention and saluted.

Pilate smiled, returning the salute.
“I see you finally made it over here.”

“I couldn’t let you go off to war alone,” Artorius replied. “I admit it was a bit nerve wracking having to ask
Father’s blessing on my joining.”

“And how is my old tutor?” Pilate asked.

“He’s doing well,” Artorius answered. “I think he finally may be getting around to seeing Juliana as more than just a friend.”

“Ah, dear Juliana,” Pilate mused. “She’s a good woman. Your father could scarcely do better.”

“Unfortunately, I have not heard from Camilla for some time,” Artorius continued. “I used to get a letter from her at least once or twice a week. It’s been three weeks now since I last heard from her. I guess there is only so much we can really say to each other when we are hundreds of miles apart.”

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, old friend, but you’d be best to give up any hopes of a future with her. She’s
an attractive and very nice young girl. But that’s just it, Artorius, she is still a
girl
. You may only be a year older, but your experiences here will age and mature you far beyond your years. The distance between you will be measured in more than just the physical miles. My advice to you; stay focused on the task at hand, complete your training, and then find yourself a hot little whore to take your mind off things. I don’t mean to sound callous, but I doubt that Camilla will wait for you.” He paused for a few seconds. “Do well in your training, Artorius. Listen to the officers and legionaries who have been at this for a while. These are good men. They will look after you. Take care, old friend.”

They exchanged salutes before going their separate ways.

“You know that lad?” Dionysus asked Pilate after the recruits had left.

“An old school friend,” Pilate replied. “His father was one of my teachers. I see a lot of potential in him. He is strong, incredibly intelligent
. Only the issue with his constant, blinding anger worries me.”

The
centurion looked at him, puzzled.

“His brother was killed in
Teutoburger Wald,” Pilate responded to the unasked question.

“So he’s here seeking revenge,” Dionysus stated. “He’ll get his chance soon enough.”

Chapter VI: The Legionary

***

It was
morning, and the sun shone through the window of the barracks. When Artorius opened his eyes, he realized it was the first time since arriving that he had not been awakened before dawn. He looked over to see the other recruits were still in their bunks, but the legionaries were gone. Just then, Sergeant Statorius walked in. He was wearing all of his armor, and it looked as if he had taken the time to shine it and his helmet.

“Alright, wake up
!” he said, kicking at their bunks. “You’ve got ten minutes to be dressed, body armor, everything.”

As the recruits wandered into the back room where the
ir equipment was, they saw that to their kit, a gladius and scabbard had been added.

“The gladius goes on the right side of your belt,” Statorius said. “Get dressed and follow me outside.”

As soon as they were dressed, they walked outside to see the entire century had formed up in a column six ranks deep. Valgus was standing in the center behind the formation. Camillus stood in front of the formation, holding the century’s standard. He also wore the traditional bear’s skin over his helmet and shoulders. Centurion Macro stood next to him. He was carrying a rolled parchment in his hand.

“Recruits Antoninus, Artorius, Gavius
, and Magnus, post!” he said.

All four stood between Macro and the rest of the
century, facing the centurion.

“Draw your swords,” he told them. “
Prepare to swear your oath.”

The oath of allegiance was something the recruits had memorized long before this day. Artorius was so full of excitement
, he hoped he would not forget any of the words. The recruits held their swords high in a salute and recited the words they had been longing to speak:

“In the name of the Senate and the People of Rome, and in the name of the Emperor, the Divine Tiberius, I do swear my allegiance. My loyalty to the Twentieth Legion, to my fellow soldiers, and my integrity
to them, shall be above reproach. The orders of my superior officers I will obey without question. I am a Soldier of Rome, protector of the Empire, and the right hand of the Emperor Tiberius.”

At the completion of the oath, they replaced their gladii into their scabbards. Macro unfurled the parchment and turned it so the letters faced them.

“From this day forth you are now entered onto the rolls of the
legion,” he said, “You men are no longer civilians, you are no longer recruits. You are now legionaries,
soldiers of Rome.”
He rolled the parchment up. In a low voice that only they could hear he said, “Welcome to the century, men. Now join your brothers in the ranks.”

As they turned around, a loud cheer erupted from the men
of the Second Century. The new legionaries found their place with Sergeant Statorius and the rest of their section. Centurion Macro dismissed the formation, and the men headed back to their barracks. On the way back in, legionaries from the century kept coming up to Artorius and the others, clasping their hands and welcoming them. It was the greatest feeling Artorius had ever felt.
Finally,
he was a soldier of Rome. Optio Valgus stood at the door leading into the barracks. He was practically beaming with pride as he took each man by the hand.

“Welcome to the
century, soldier,” he said to each as they shook his hand and made their way into the barracks.

Seeing the pride his
optio felt towards him added to Artorius’ sense of accomplishment.

As he put his armor and helmet back onto his shelf, he saw there were three more shields lined up against the wall. They were full-length rectangular curved shields, with a metal boss in the center and brass strips lining the outer edges. Each shield was painted red, with golden wings coming out of the boss. Artorius found his and smiled at the inscription that was on the inside towards the top. It read:

T. Artorius Justus, Legionary

Legio XX, Cohort III, Century II

It was late afternoon and the small town outside the fortress wa
s packed with soldiers. With the upcoming campaign, the legion’s senior officers felt it was in the men’s best interest to let them relax and unwind a bit before the campaign commenced. It was the first time Artorius had been in town. The legionaries were allowed to leave their armor and helmets in their rooms, but they were required to each carry their gladius and dagger. Auxiliaries guarded the entrances and exits to the town, so the legionaries felt somewhat secure, though one could never completely let their guard down. They were, after all, on the border of the frontier and very close to hostile territory.

Artorius and his
companions sat around a table in the tavern. After eight weeks of training, it felt good to relax. A servant brought them a pitcher of wine. She winked at Carbo as she set it down. She looked to be in her late thirties, though in reality she was probably much younger. Hard life on the rural frontier did not help the locals to age gracefully. She had probably been pretty at one time, now she looked weathered and tired.

“That must be Lolia,” Artorius said.

“That’s her alright,” Praxus said, “the love of Carbo’s life.” He grabbed his friend by the back of the neck.

“Kiss my ass,” Carbo said as he took a long draught of wine
. “I told you I was drunk at the time.”

“And well on your way to becoming incredibly drunk once again,” Decimus piped in.

“And who, may I ask, is that?” Magnus asked, pointing towards a fetching young Gallic woman.

“That? Oh that’s Varinia,” Praxus said. “Five sesterci and she’s yours.”

“Say again?” Magnus asked. Then in realization, “Oh, so she’s one of
those.
”

“And a damn
ed good one, too,” Decimus said, reaching down and grabbing at his groin, “and she has a sister.”

“Really? So can I get both of them for say
, ten sesterci?” Magnus asked.

“I don’t know, probably,” Decimus answered.

“Right, I’ll see you later.” With that Magnus promptly left, muttering, “Thor…give me strength.”

“Ah, the lecherous young whelp. Just can’t wait to empty his loins, can he?” Gavius remarked.

“Humph,” Praxus snorted. “If you want to see lecherous, you should hang around with Valens more often. I swear if it were not for the mandatory savings program instituted by the army he would go broke on wine and prostitutes, or at least
on prostitutes. He actually doesn’t drink a whole lot. Speaking of which, where is he?”

“I saw him go wandering off with
that woman from the butcher’s shop a little while ago,” Carbo answered.

“The one with all the missing teeth?” Praxus seemed shocked. “Just how drunk was he?”

“I’m not sure. He didn’t look drunk, at least not yet. Besides, I think they took off towards her house soon
after we got here.”

“Where’s
this house located?”

“Two blocks north, right hand side.”

“Oh, this I’ve got to see.” With that Praxus left, Carbo right on his heels.

Artorius watched them leave before starting a fresh conversation with Decimus. “Decimus, there
are a few things I’ve been curious about.”

“What’s on your mind?” Decimus asked
, before taking another pull off his wine.

“When we were on our way up here, I asked Statorius how he got wounded. All he would say is that he messed up. I’m just curious as to what happened.”

“Well, it was like this,” Decimus said. “We were on a sortie against some band of renegades that had crossed the Rhine and were causing trouble. Things were going pretty good once we closed up on them. We threw our javelins and they panicked before we even charged. We drove them back to the river. The problem was that with nowhere to run, they turned and started fighting like wild animals. Statorius then broke one of the basic rules of close combat. He lunged too far forward to attack one of the barbarians. He stabbed the man in the chest and his gladius became stuck. It was then that one of them hooked his shield with an axe and yanked it away. With no shield and his sword stuck, he was in an awkward position. And remember, all of this took a matter of seconds to unfold. Anyway, one of the barbarians lunges in and catches him in the upper arm with his spear, just as Statorius got his gladius unstuck. Thankfully, we had just initiated a passage-of-lines and the second rank blitzed right past where he was and took care of the barbarians. We helped him back to the rear, and he spent the next six weeks convalescing in Ostia. He learned his lesson, though. Especially since Vitruvius never lets him live it down. Make no mistake though, Statorius is an excellent decanus and he looks after us pretty good. He just made a mistake is all.” He emptied his wine goblet and poured some more.

“So what about this mutiny that nobody heard about back home? You made mention of it during our travels from Ostia,” Artorius asked.

Gavius leaned forward, fascinated.

“Oh boy, that’s a story that’s going to require some more wine.
Hey Lolia! Bring us some more wine, you saucy little tart.”

Once more wine had been brought to them, Decimus started to tell the story, at least as he saw it, of the mutiny on the Rhine.
“I had just joined the legion shortly before Teutoburger Wald. Once we got word of the disaster, we rushed here to secure the bridges against invasion. Things were going okay, except there was a lot of corruption amongst the junior, and even the senior, officers. Another issue was the numerous soldiers who had served out their tenure. They were looking to retire. Instead, they ended up stuck here on the Rhine for gods know how long.  Once Tiberius was recalled to Rome, things went to hell in a hurry. It seemed like every centurion in the entire army was corrupt. They extorted money from the junior enlisted as you would not believe. I mean, come on. Centurions make five times what we do, and yet they still felt the need to pinch their soldiers for every sesterci they had. If a soldier was due for leave or furlough, it cost him. If someone wanted to quit showing up on the latrine duty roster, it cost him. This made the tesserarius’ job infuriatingly difficult, as it was his responsibility to ensure that all details were evenly distributed. When we complained to the tribunes, they did nothing. In fact, some of them thought that extortion was an easy way to make money, so they started doing it themselves.

“It became worse when the
centurions started demanding payments for no reason whatsoever. Those who could not pay, or who were just unwilling to, felt the wrath of the vine stick. It seemed as if we were fighting a two-front war, one against the barbarians and the other against our own officers. Tiberius kept us in check. It is not just that he was a tough disciplinarian. In truth, we did not want to disappoint him. Whatever his reputation back home, he was very much respected by the legions, and we could not let him down. Once he left for Rome to assume the reins of power, it seemed like all hell broke loose. All discipline evaporated, and we became a frenzied mob. The centurions and tribunes responsible for our misery were rounded up and beaten.

“So, Germanicus shows up to try and restore order. In a meeting with the mob, some
men even tried to make him Emperor instead of Tiberius. Of course, most of us knew deep down inside where our true loyalties lay. Germanicus knew this as well. He even offered to fall on his sword if we did not return to our posts and show our loyalty to the Emperor. This was a theatrical gesture to say the least, especially when one fellow actually tried to hand Germanicus his own blade because he said it had a sharper edge. This was all despicable behavior. All of us knew better, and all of us were loyal to both the Emperor and to our Commander. The constant corruption and abuse had just driven us over the edge.

“Unbelievably, it actually took a woman to quell the whole damn thing. Fearing for his family, Germanicus sent his wife and children away from the camp. Many of the
men
saw this. Roman soldiers may be some hardhearted bastards, but most are sentimental inside, especially when it comes to our women and children. Agrippina came back, and the sight of her carrying their newest babe, Gaius, all dressed up in a miniature legionary costume… well, the soldiers
just lost all anger. They even dubbed the little boy ‘Caligula’ because he even wore little caligae boots like ours.

“Once order was restored, Germanicus and Severus had to get the army back on its feet, and in a hurry. The ringleaders of the riot were summarily tried and executed. This was mainly because the front line of a war is not the place to commit mutiny, especially when there are thousands of bloodthirsty barbarians just waiting to catch us with our guard down.
Caetronius, Commander of the First Legion, was given the dubious task of overseeing the trials. Representatives from every century within the army stood in front of the tribunal, swords drawn. I was one of those who actually volunteered for the task. Each
accused man was on a raised platform and was pointed out by a tribune.
If the s
oldiers shouted out that he was guilty, he was thrown headlong and cut
to pieces. We even gloated over the bloodshed as though it gave us
absolution. Nor did Germanicus check us, seeing that without any order from
him; the same men were responsible for all the cruelty and all the odium
of the deed.”
1
Decimus took a pull off his wine and shuddered at the memory.