“So, apparently someone can count,” he said laconically as he stood in the doorway.
He was a well-built man, in his mid-twenties it appeared, with even features and cool grey eyes that appraised each of us. His gaze lingered on me, taking in my size and he pursed his lips in a silent whistle, but did not say anything to me. Instead, he turned to the whole group and announced, “In case you haven’t guessed, my name is Lucius Calienus, and I’m the Sergeant of this tent section. I was a member of Pompey’s 1st Legion, and was promoted to help fill this Legion out with some men who knew their ass from their elbows. And judging from what I’m seeing in this lot, I might as well kiss my ass goodbye because I’m as good as dead the moment we go into battle.”
This did not set well with me, but I kept my mouth shut.
Calienus walked into the tent, standing in the narrow area between the cots and said, “So I see that you, or at least some of you” he turned to nod in the direction of Vibius and myself, “were catching on that there seems to be a problem with the numbers in this tent.”
Not sure how to address him at this point, we contented ourselves with just nodding.
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that you’re correct in your assumption, so there may be hope for some of you yet.”
Turning to the outside to the remaining man, he motioned him to come inside. Having seen that Scribonius had grabbed Artorius, despite the early signs that Artorius might be a weakling, I assumed that Scribonius must have decided that Artorius was the lesser of two evils. Didius walked in, and I have to say that he looked a little upset that he was not picked, although he did not say anything about it.
Calienus said to Didius, “So you’re the odd man out, neh?”
Didius nodded, and Calienus laughed, but while it was not necessarily a cruel laugh, it still obviously rankled Didius.
“Maybe you’re just slow to make friends. Or,” he became serious, “it means that you’re someone I have to keep an eye on. Either way, you’re out of luck, neh?” Without waiting for an answer, Calienus turned to the rest of us, and explained the mystery of the two missing cots.
They were not missing at all. Instead it meant that at any given time, there would be two men on some sort of duty, at least once we finished training. Even during training, there would be at least one man on watch on our assigned sector of wall, so that at some point, someone was sleeping in your cot while you were out on duty. During training only one would be missing, requiring that someone slept on the ground, but in order to be fair, it was rotated evenly, even Calienus participating. Also, while the sleeping arrangements would change, the area where we stored our gear, under our cots, would remain the same. Didius and the unknown tenth man were given two corners of the tent as their area, making it somewhat inconvenient for them, but was designed to stop gear from being “accidentally” mixed up, a practice that turned out to be a very good precaution with Didius in our tent, although we did not know that then. Once that was explained to us, Calienus showed us the proper way to stow our gear underneath our cots, taking the remainder of the time allotted to us by the Pilus Prior. I imagine it was a sixth part to the instant when we heard a shrill whistle sound outside. Vibius and I knew what the whistle meant, even if we had never actually heard one, thanks to Cyclops, so we immediately grabbed our shield, put our helmets back on, picked up our wooden sword and hurried outside. Falling into our places at the opposite ends of the line, we were followed in a matter of moments by the rest of the group, who seemed to follow our lead and came out carrying their weapons and shields. They got in line quickly, but none of us were sure how to stand at Intente holding our shields or wooden sword. That we assembled in this fashion clearly surprised the Pilus Prior, but he made no comment about it and fortunately, we were not penalized, for whatever reason. Instead, the Pilus Prior showed us how to hold the wooden sword vertically; normally our sword would be sheathed, but since we had not been issued them yet, and the wooden sword would not fit in the scabbard anyway, we were taught this method. Then he told us to go stow the gear in our tents and come back outside.
Once we did so, he marched us over to the forum, which in an army camp is the large clear area next to the Praetorium where the Legions are mustered when they are to be issued orders en masse, or some other event occurs that requires everyone's presence. The rest of the time, at least in the early days of the Legion, it was being used by us tiros as we were taught how to march and perform close order drill. There were other small groups, along with a couple of large ones, composed of a full Century, normally eighty men. However, in the case of our Legions, and in every Legion raised by Caesar from that point forward, he made a change by commanding that a Century would consist of a hundred men, which was changed back to eighty men by the man now known as Augustus. This was why we had the unusual sleeping arrangements in our tent; normally eight cots were sufficient, since the Century of traditional size consisted of ten sections of men, one section to each tent. Of course, we did not know this was unusual, and would not learn otherwise until much later in our careers. Now, these Centuries were all marching about under the order of their respective Centurions. Assisting them was the Centurion’s Optio, the second in command of each Century; we had yet to meet ours because he was working with the rest of the Century. As it turned out, we were the last of the First Century of the Second Cohort to be added, explaining why we were getting the undivided attention of the Pilus Prior and not the Optio. The Pilus Prior had us watch the other groups marching for a moment, and even to our untrained eye, we could see that they were in different stages of training. Smaller groups like ours still displayed a tendency to look like they were shambling along, and they were being “encouraged” with the Centurion’s stick more often than the others. It was also plain to see that being smacked with that stick was going to be a regular part of our lives for some time to come.
After a few moments, the Pilus Prior said, “You can see that you’ll be spending a great deal of your time just learning how to march in the proper manner, and obey the commands given you while you march. And know this you cunni,” he finished, “my Cohort will be the tightest, best drilled Cohort in this Legion, or you’ll all die trying.”
He laughed at his own joke, if indeed it was. For ourselves, we were not sure. The rest of the day was spent marching about, with a liberal amount of bashing with the stick, which we learned was called the vitus and is a symbol of the Centurion rank. Up and down we marched, learning the basic commands, and I never suspected one could become so tired from just walking around, yet by the time we were through, I was exhausted. So were the others if the looks of them were any indication. We marched through at least two watches; the watch is divided into increments of three hours each, and the end of each watch is signaled by the sounding of a horn. I could not tell which horn it was, but as I learned later the change of the watch is sounded by the bucina. Either the Pilus Prior thought we had been through enough, or we were at a point where we would not have improved, but either way we were thankful for the break.