All I can say about my first turn on guard duty is that I wish the hundreds and hundreds of times that I have done since then had passed as quickly as that one. I think it must have been the novelty, because before I could believe that the proper amount of time had passed the horn was blowing, and I could see a very faint lightening in the sky. Since we stood the last watch, we at least had the advantage of being fully dressed and returned to our tent as the more experienced Legionaries who had the day watch relieved us, giving us the proper password. There is a new password and countersign issued every full day, and our shift would be the last to use the old one. Now, the commander of the guard Cohort would go to each station and issue the new password and countersign. Like the camps, this was done without exception, no matter where the Legion was located; as I would learn, even on the Campus Martius just outside Rome, we would have to learn and remember the password and countersign. I would also learn that the method of relief that we used the night before was not the norm; the relief of the guard, especially when on campaign, is much more formalized and is done by the commander of the guard that shift, who marches the men of the relief to their specific spot on the rampart. Those being relieved then fall into the marching formation, taking the place of the men who relieved them, continuing in formation to the next post, where the process is repeated. Only after a complete circuit of the camp is made do those that were relieved get dismissed to go back to sleep, or resume their other duties. That morning, the others were just getting dressed and while we waited, Vibius and I gnawed on the small piece of bacon and bread left over from the night before. By this time, our third day, we knew enough to immediately form up outside the tent, and before long the Pilus Prior showed up, snarling his usual cheery morning greeting. Then we went marching off to begin another day.
Thus set the pattern for the next week, where every day seemed to blur together into one long continuous day of marching and the command Repitate ringing in our ears over and over and over. Of course, the command was almost always accompanied with the smack of the vitus, and although I was a bit farther ahead than the others, as was Vibius, I received my fair share of blows. Our days became measured by the sounds of the tromping of our feet and the blowing of the bucina marking the change of watch, yet slowly, we began to at least look like Legionaries, even if the Pilus Prior kept insisting that we were the worst collection of tiros that he had ever seen. Finally, the day arrived for which all of us, particularly Vibius and I, had been waiting. The morning started in the usual manner, but we were told to carry our wooden sword, and instead of being marched to the forum, we marched past it, took a right turn and headed out the Porta Principalis Sinistra, the side gate on the left hand side of every camp, exiting it and stopping on the other side of the ditches. Arrayed before us were a huge number of stakes, the same type that Cyclops had trained Vibius and me on, and despite Vibius being a few men down from me, I was sure that he was fighting the urge to smile as well. Finally! We would get our chance to show that we were not as raw as the others, and I could feel my stomach twist in excitement at the thought of finally doing something with which I was familiar.
Of course, it was not going to be so easy. They were not going to just turn us loose to start whacking away, and for this task, we were formally introduced for the first time to our Optio, who acted as our Cohort’s weapons instructor. He was a bit taller than average and at first glance looked rather pudgy, but as I would learn that was extremely misleading. Although I did not yet know it, he was the only man in the Legion clearly stronger than I was by a good margin. That was not the only deceptive thing about the man; the other impression that one came away with just by looking at him is that he might have been a bit on the slow side. He wore a somewhat slack expression on his round face, with a tendency for his mouth to hang open slightly when he was not engaged. However, once he took up a weapon, he became something entirely different, a blur of motion and controlled savagery the likes of which none of us had ever seen before. Unlike most of the more experienced men he bore no visible marks or scars, which I supposed was a testament to his fighting prowess. Still, I would be lying if I said that the first day we met I was particularly impressed and I wondered if this man would actually have anything that he could possibly teach me after my tutelage with Cyclops.
“This is Optio Aulus Vinicius,” the Pilus Prior announced.
Vinicius gave the slightest nod in our direction as we stood examining him.
“He’s the second in command of this Century, and he’s also our Cohort’s weapons instructor. Today he’ll begin to show you cunni what it truly means to be in the Legions.”
Turning to Optio Vinicius, he said loudly enough so that we could hear, “Good luck Vinicius. You’re going to need it with this lot.” Returning his attention to us, Crastinus finished, “You’ll spend the day with the Optio. I’ll be by to check on you, so don’t think I won’t know if any of you are slacking off! All the marching and drill is fine, but this is what your real purpose is, to fight and kill for Rome. And die, if that’s the will of the gods,” he added, superfluously in my opinion.
With that ominous warning he left us to the Optio, who was still standing there, not having said a word. It was almost as if he were in a trance, though when the Pilus Prior left the area, he snapped out of whatever fog he had been in.