In between retches, he gasped, “Didn’t you hear us shouting for you to slow down? I swear that all of us were begging you to slow your pace, but you just ran along like you were Mercury himself.”
Despite the fact that I was breathing as hard as he was, and was fighting the urge to vomit as well, I tried to sound nonchalant as I replied, “Really? No, Scribonius, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t hear a thing. I just thought I was running at a pace that wouldn’t get us in trouble with Pilus Prior Crastinus.”
He looked up at me to see if I was joking, but in that at least I was telling the truth; by this time the others had joined us, and all assumed the same position as Scribonius, each of them cursing my name, my father and my ancestors. Even Vibius was angry with me, and I wavered between embarrassment and anger at the invective they were using against me.
Defensively I protested, “I already told Scribonius I was sorry. I didn’t realize I was running so fast.”
“Well, clean your ears out, damn you,” spat Didius, pushing my mood immediately to anger.
“If you can’t keep up, that’s not my problem,” I retorted, and he stood up straight, making a move towards me as if he had more to say, but before he could, Vibius stepped in between us and grabbed my arm. “None of us could keep up Titus,” he spoke sharply, “because you forget that you have these great long legs.”
That it was Vibius talking so immediately deflated me and I apologized again, this time more humbly, which seemed to satisfy everyone except for Didius, who continued to glare at me. That is when I knew that he and I were destined for trouble at some point. To make matters worse, the Pilus Prior happened to look up and saw us standing in a group, and we could hear his booming voice, over all the other noise of camp, and we jumped a little in panic.
“I don’t believe I told you cunni to stop,” he roared. “The next time I look around, you had better be running, ladies.”
We looked at each other, and then Scribonius said, “The Pilus Prior didn’t tell us what order to run in, did he?” Shaking our heads, he continued quickly, “Well then, let’s run with the little end at the front, that way we won’t have to worry about Pullus galloping off on us.”
This was immediately accepted, even by me, not wanting to draw the ire of the others any more than I already had, although I now knew that I could run more slowly without being afraid of being seen as weak. Quickly reversing our order, we started up again with Artorius leading us off. Almost immediately we could all see that while this was a good idea in theory, Artorius was so weak and slow the chances of evading the wrath of the Pilus Prior was practically non-existent. Fairly quickly we rearranged yet again, putting Vibius in front, who set a pace that most of us could follow with a moderate effort, except for Artorius. I assumed that the reason he was so far behind was that he was at the little end of our line, but it turned out that not only was he the smallest physically he was the weakest, in more ways than one. We made a couple more circuits before we heard the Pilus Prior yell at us to stop, which we did, heading back to where he and Atilius were standing. Poor Atilius, being the only focus of the Pilus Prior, already had several large red welts on his arms and legs but his face showed no emotion as he stood there at intente. It became apparent that Atilius had taken his personal lessons to heart, because he immediately matched us in terms of our skill level. Once more, the rest of the day was spent in drill, and it was a weary group that trooped to the tent. Sergeant Calienus joined us shortly, and informed us that we were going to be put into the rotation for guard duty, starting that night. During our tiro period, we would only be standing watch at night so that we could get all the training in possible. The brothers drew the first watch, followed by Scribonius and Artorius, then Vibius and myself. In this manner, everyone would be able to sleep through the night on a cot, although there would have to be some shifting around.
“But as soon as we finish our meal, I’m taking you boys to the bath house,” Calienus told us, wrinkling his nose, “because you stink. And I’m not going to share a tent with a bunch of animals.”
This was my first experience with regular bathing; on the farm we bathed at most once a week, usually on the market day, using a large wooden tub for the purpose, after which Phocas or Gaia would oil us down. Actually, I stopped allowing Gaia to bathe me when I was perhaps ten or eleven, but I certainly had never heard of bathing in the middle of the week; it was at least three more days to market day! Nevertheless, I quickly grew accustomed to it and to this day I bathe every day, at least whenever possible. Back then though, I was just a country boy who thought such refinements a waste of time. After the meal, Calienus took us to a large tent near the quaestorium, where a line of men stood, all waiting for their turn. This was our first time actually mingling with the other Legionaries, and we obviously looked as green as grass because almost immediately we were jeered and teased. When I heard those mocking words, I felt the heat in my face and my anger starting to rise, when a gentle but firm hand on my elbow stopped me; I was not aware, but I had begun moving towards one particularly mouthy man who looked about the same age as Calienus, just softer. Turning, I saw that was in fact who was grabbing my elbow, giving me a stern look as he shook his head.
“Hold, Pullus. You can’t go getting upset when someone runs their mouth at you. Besides,” he grinned, “you are fresh meat, and the boys are just having some fun. Soon enough, you’ll be doing the same to poor tiros like you are now.”
I listened and obeyed, except I did not believe him, promising myself that when I was in their shoes, I would not be so callous. It was just one more promise broken in a life full of them. The interior of the tent was lit by oil lamps, and there was a buzz of laughter and conversation, ribald jokes and the kind of complaining that only soldiers can do. There were a couple of dozen slaves who rubbed down each man with oil, then scraped him clean.
Seeing that there were no bath tubs, I looked to our Sergeant and Calienus explained. “No, we don’t have proper baths in camp; that only happens in winter quarters when we build more permanent facilities. Here we just have the oil and scraping.”
Like other things I had been told, it made perfect sense to me. Not only was it time spent, it was a matter of resources; we should not be wasting water on luxuries like baths. Even so, it was refreshing, and I left feeling like a new man, invigorated by the skilled hands of the slave who rubbed down my tired and sore muscles. It may seem like a small thing, yet I firmly believe that one reason we are invincible is because not only are we well-trained, we are well-cared-for and well-fed. There is no doubt in my mind that the rubdowns that we receive help us recover from our exertions more quickly and thoroughly, so that we are revitalized and able to do more work than our enemies, in every phase and facet of warfare.
Just like the night before, I was asleep before I finished lying down, and it seemed but a moment before I was being shaken awake by Scribonius, while Artorius did the same for Vibius.
“Your turn,” Scribonius whispered, and I came awake immediately, something that I somehow managed to teach myself and it has served me well throughout my career. I can be sound asleep, but at a word I am instantly awake. This night, I sat up and copying what Calienus showed us, tried to do the same thing, pulling my gear from underneath my cot from memory. Instead, I immediately dropped my helmet, making a horrible racket and earning me a round of curses from my comrades. Finally stumbling out, I waited for Vibius who managed to equip himself without making a sound, then we headed to the wall that was our sector. I could see in the darkness the same thing happening up and down the wall as the guard changed. Stifling a yawn I climbed the rampart, feeling somewhat ridiculous not properly armed. I had not yet seen the view from the wall and despite it being dark, there was enough light from the moon and the nearby torches that remained lit throughout the night hours to see the disposition of the outside of the camp. About 30 feet away was a ditch, although from the gloom I could not tell its depth. It was in fact twelve feet deep, different than the standard nine feet, but with Caesar as our general, he favored ditches that were twelve feet deep by fifteen feet wide, versus the nine foot by twelve foot wide standard. This in turn allows for a higher wall, therefore the camp of a Caesar-led Legion was always harder to storm than those of other generals. We stood behind a crenellated palisade made of wood; as I was to learn, two of those stakes belonged to me, and I would carry them everywhere we went, or more accurately our section mule did, along with those of every other Legionary, giving them up to form the wall that protected us. The earthen rampart that I stood on was the product of the dirt that came from the ditch, making the rampart six feet wide. It was tamped down to give us a solid footing and wide enough to allow men to move behind others manning the walls in the event they had to run to a trouble spot. The rest of the dirt formed a ramp leading to the rampart, allowing us to run up to the wall without having to worry about climbing ladders. The Roman camp is second to none of its kind and for as long as anyone could remember, this was how a camp was built, almost every single night on the march, with very few exceptions and only slight variations depending on the threat level. In our long-ago past, some unfortunate army did not go to the trouble and was massacred, so from that time on this was the standard. While Vibius and I stood there, shivering in the damp despite our sagum wrapped around our shoulders, we could hear the low buzz of voices from the other Legionaries on the wall. Vibius and I glanced at each other; the Pilus Prior had been very specific about the prohibition on talking on guard duty, but it seemed that there were others who did not get that warning from him, or were ignoring it. However, we were still too new to even consider disregarding the rules at this point, so we just shrugged and turned back to stare out into the blackness.