The men began to move together, more efficiently this time.The wall was twenty feet away. Then just fifteen feet. Then ten feet. Then theywere moving Gwendyrn over the wall. The men gave a ragged cheer as he waslifted over.
“By Jupiter’s beard, why’d you have to go and kick me, sir?”Gwendyrn groaned as he was helped to his feet.
“You didn’t do a good enough job pretending to be wounded.When I tell you to play injured, you play injured. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It may save your life someday. You never know when youmight need to play dead. Did anyone get the lesson I was trying to teach you?”The veteran looked around at the shaken men, most still recovering from theirrecent ordeal. “Anyone?”
Julius stared at his still trembling hands. The instructorlooked at him. “Not even you, Caesar?” Julius shook his head.
“It took five of you to carry back one wounded man. I justtook six men out of the fight with only one weapon. That, my friends, iseffective.” He paused, looking at the disheveled men. “Alright, everyone-evenyou, Recruit Gwendyrn-back on the line. We will practice until you can hit ahuman target at fifty feet! I’d rather you be on the delivery end of theplumbata, rather than the receiving end.”
Just a few minutes before lights out, Julius sat on the edgeof his bunk, rubbing the new calluses on his hands. His arms ached. His backached. There was not one part of his body that did not ache. He had losttrack of the days of the week and even what month it was. He held up the letterfrom his little sister, a very detailed letter for a seven-year-old thatincluded a picture she had drawn of their family. Marciena wore a dress andheld a book; their mom was busy weaving; their father was rebuilding theautodryer. The cartoon Julius, clad in armor and carrying a shield, fought offsome nameless, many-armed monster. His sister appeared to have a future as anartist. Laughing, he turned the paper to see it more clearly in the weak lightfrom the gas lantern above his bunk.
In the next bunk, Gwendyrn turned toward him, raising aneyebrow. “What’s so funny, Julius?” he drawled. Julius showed him the drawing.“Must be nice to have family around here. I’m the only one in my family who canread, much less write.”
“I saved up money for her to go to school. That’s where mysigning bonus went,” Julius confided. “I want her to have a better life than myfamily. I want her to be able to marry up, maybe become the wife of somemerchant or artificer. She’d be a real asset, with her drawing skills. I knowmy family couldn’t pay a dowry, but the way I see it, education ought to be adowry.”
“Do you miss them?” Gwendyrn asked as he handed the drawingback to Julius, who nodded. The other man rolled onto his back and stared up atthe ceiling. “I would say that I miss my family too, but I sincerely doubt theymiss me. I was too much trouble for them. I ate too much food and got into toomany fights with the neighbors. Magistrate finally gave me the choice: prisonor the army. Guess I picked the right one. At least here, I get to blow thingsup.” He rubbed at the reddish fuzz growing in on his shaven head.
Julius grabbed his helmet from his open trunk at the foot ofhis bed. He carefully folded up the letter from his sister and placed it underthe lining on the inside of his helmet. He returned the helmet to the trunk,making sure it was in perfect condition before shutting the lid. It wouldn’t dofor a surprise inspection to find something amiss with his gear.
“Anyone know what new torture they have for us tomorrow?”Recruit Hespinus asked from a few bunks down.
“I heard that we we’re finally getting our real equipment.No more of these mock double-weight sword fights. Now we’re going to be usingthe real thing,” another man answered.
Julius was excited. Real equipment-they must be gettingcloser to the end now! They didn’t let the complete rejects handle the realweapons. It was too easy to hurt yourself with a failed thrust. He turned so hecould see the tribune’s room at the end of the barracks. The door was open, andinside, the tribune was having a conversation with Centurion Vibius.Constantine hadn’t been around for a few days. I wonder where he went,Julius thought.
The centurion walked out of the room and over to a dial onthe wall. “Lights out, men,” he called out. “Tomorrow is the start of your lastmonth of training. Hopefully, you all make it. Alive.” Vibius rotated the dial,and the lights above Julius and the other men winked out.
Julius pulled the sheets up over him, and was asleep inmoments. He dreamed of a large, nameless monster chasing him through hisdreams, oblivious to all his attempts to stop it.
After a breakfast of warm hash and something possiblyidentifiable as oatmeal, the men of the 13th Cohort filed out of the dininghall with 7th Cohort and drew themselves up on opposite sides of the field,centurions and tribunes in front of them.
Legate General Minnicus rounded the corner of theadministration building, trailing aides, and advanced to the middle of thedrill ground. Tribune Appius, 7th Cohort Tribune Lominus, and Master DrillInstructor Felix all saluted him. The legionnaires stood at attention.
The general’s arm moved up quickly, then slowed into apicture-perfect salute, his iron prosthesis whirring and clicking intoposition. Components audibly clicked as he slowly lowered it, each partshifting back into place. Looking at each cohort, Minnicus said, “Men, from nowon, your two cohorts will be partnered up. You will compete against each other.You will train with each other. After two weeks, there will be a series oftests. How well you do in each test will determine your final assignment androle within our legion.
“As you well know, not every man can be a front linelegionnaire! We have need of engineers, quartermasters, rear guards,artillerymen, and skirmishers. A legion is just like a human body. Muscle meansnothing if we can’t out-think or out-maneuver our opponents.”
He paused, sweeping his eyes over each cohort and stoppingon the leaders. “Of course, in addition to the results of the trials, outsidefactors, observations, and the like will be taken into account. I will bemaking the final decision. May the goddess of victory, Nike, bring yousuccess.” He ended with another salute.
Drill Instructor Felix marched out and with a crisp turn,faced the assembled cohorts. He sucked in a deep breath. “Alright, men, we’regoing to quick-march to the armory, where you will receive your full equipmentkits. Then I will spend the day showing you weaklings how to put on all theequipment and how to use it all. And-Jupiter forbid-if you break anything, Iwill spend all day watching you clean everyone else’s equipment with atoothbrush until it is spotless!”
A few sniggers came from the assembled cohorts. The drillinstructor glared. “Don’t think I didn’t see who was laughing. You will becleaning everyone’s equipment and they will find it funny. SeventhCohort, move out!”
Seventh Cohort stepped forward, their tribune pacing his mensmartly. Felix waited until the 7th had passed, their boots kicking up a modestdust cloud, before ordering the 13th forward as well. He turned and marchedalongside as they marched toward the most grueling, challenging, and strenuoustwo weeks of their lives.
General Minnicus watched the procession, his dark eyes neverleaving the tall tribune of the 13th Cohort. Even after the cohorts had passedout of sight, he remained standing on the field, lost in thought. With a slightshake of his head, he turned back toward his aides.
Chapter 6
It was rush hour in central Brittenburg’s train station andthe massive building, more a vault nearly a mile long and almost ten storieshigh, was bustling. All motortrolley lines in the city converged outside thestation, and multiple trains departed and arrived on a strict schedule.Thousands of people walked among the columns, passing or pausing at vendorsworking the station, either out on the floor or in the restaurants, pubs,shops, and ticket booths set into alcoves in the walls. Most were oblivious tothe glory of the ceiling arching high overhead, the frescoes and stained glasswindows portraying images of Emperor Caesar III, reigning monarch during thestation’s completion. What they did pay attention to was the humongous board listingtrain departures and arrivals along one sidewall, continuously updated by teamsof men, or the large clock tower in the center of the terminal.