“What did you think?” He eyed me curiously as he asked me, yet all I could think to say was, “He gives a good speech. Why, what did you think?”
He frowned, something I noticed that he did a lot, then shook his head. “I don’t know, really. All I do know is that I’ve seen him somewhere before, but I can’t remember where.”
The bucina cut our conversation short, and I thought no more about it.
By the time we made our second stop, I was beginning to feel true fatigue, and the weaker men like Artorius were clearly at the end of their tether, barely managing to make it to this point because their fear of the wrath of the Centurions was greater than their fatigue, yet I could not help wondering how much longer that would last. As we rested again I looked over at the general, standing talking to the Primus Pilus of our Legion, who had fallen back to talk to him, I supposed, from his place up in the vanguard. Neither of them seemed to be in the slightest bit fatigued, something that angered me more than anything else. How could they appear as if they were just out for a daily stroll, without a care in the world? Well, I was determined that I would not falter in front of them, no matter what! When we set out for the final leg of our march, I was grimly determined to appear just as fresh as they did now, no matter how much of a sham it might have been. The idea that they would even notice a lowly tiro in his private struggle never occurred to me; like all youngsters, I was still of the opinion that somehow the world revolved around me.
It was with a great amount of relief to the tiros when we arrived at the site of the evening camp, which the advance party had already marked and staked out. That feeling was short-lived, however, when after just a few moments’ respite we were told to ground our gear, and the real work began. The Centurions and Optios began running about as each Century of each Cohort was assigned with a task. To our inexperienced eyes it was chaos, yet as we were to learn, that was deceiving; everyone had a role to play, and once assigned their tasks, the seeming chaos would disappear.
The Pilus Prior, after a brief conference with the command group, came to us and said without any ceremony, “Right, we’ve been assigned the ditch,” which was greeted by groans from the experienced men, to which the Pilus Prior snarled, “Shut your mouths, you lazy bastards! Now, I expect the Sergeants to take their tent section and give these fresh young things a quick lesson on what they're to do. I’ll give you some time to explain and then,” he pointed with his vitus to a point a distance away where some stakes were placed, “get to work. That’s our section. I’ll be around to make sure that you don’t make a complete mess of things.”
And with that he strode off to do whatever it was that Centurions do while the rest of us worked, which as I was to learn, was to walk about keeping a sharp eye out for the inevitable lagging. Sergeant Calienus stood in front of us. “You’ll need your turf cutter and your spades,” he said simply, waiting while we pulled them from our baskets. “Follow me,” he called over his shoulder once we produced them, as he headed over to the area that the Pilus Prior had pointed out. “All right, what we’re going to do is to dig our section of the ditch.”
As he talked, each tent section was receiving its instructions all around us, so it was somewhat difficult to understand him over the babble of other voices, but it soon became clear what was expected of us. Our section was going to be one of the ones digging; another tent section was tasked with carrying the dirt that we produced in their wicker basket to create the rampart that formed the internal boundary of the camp. Another group was tasked with collecting our two stakes apiece, which were loaded on our pack mule, to form the palisade. While this was all new to us, this is the manner in which Roman camps have been constructed for as long as anyone could remember, and soon enough it would become second nature for us.
Turning to our task, we first used the turf cutter to cut out squares of sod. These would be used as foundations for some of the structures in the camp, along with serving as the surface of the rampart. Once that was done, we began to dig. Despite my fatigue, this was work that I was used to, but some of the others began having trouble, the most surprising to me being Vibius. However, as he explained later, working as a tanner did not involve the use of a spade or turf cutter. There was one piece of luck, although we would not understand it for some time to come. As I explained earlier, Caesar required the ditches to be deeper and wider across than any other general; fortunately for us, we did not know any better, so the work we were doing did not seem to be any more onerous than what any other Legion endured. It took us the better part of two parts of a watch to make our section of ditch, no more than ten feet of the total, the proper depth and width and we were utterly exhausted, but as I turned around, what I saw amazed me. The wall, made of the combination of our stakes and the spoil from the ditch, was almost completely up in our sector, with the men in that area putting the finishing touches on the rampart. Other parties who went out into the surrounding area came back with enough timber to create the guard towers that are placed on each corner of the camp, and although not finished, their form was plainly visible. Despite the dust, noise and bustling activity, it was clear that we knew what we were about, or at least our leaders did. At this point we were no more than just brute labor, although after a few more of these camps, as we rotated in our duties, we would all learn our parts and by the end of a year, each of us would be able to build one of these camps in our sleep.
Finally finished, we staggered back to our area, at least knowing where we were located in the camp because it was the same as back at our home base. The slaves of each tent section in the Century, working together, had erected our tents and dragged our equipment into them, placing our gear in our accustomed place, knowing where to put it by the names inscribed on the leather covers of our shields. They had also started a fire, and Sergeant Calienus proceeded to show us how to turn our rations of grain into bread, this being the first time it was not baked for us. Each of us took our ration and ground it in our section’s grinder before contributing it to the community pot, where Sergeant Calienus showed us how to make bread, using the panera that we had been issued. I know I was looking forward to falling into a deep sleep as soon as we were finished eating, but my hopes were dashed by the Pilus Prior, who came and announced that we were the guard Cohort for the night. We all groaned, prompting the Pilus Prior to walk among us, lashing out with his vitus and snarling at us to keep quiet. His progress was marked by the same sounds as he relayed the word to the rest of the Cohort, something that gave us a little solace that we were not the only whiners.
I was never more thankful for Vibius than that evening on watch, because without him I would surely have fallen asleep on guard duty, though I think he was as thankful for the same reason. Even so, a decent number of tiros were caught asleep, and if it had happened in enemy territory it would have meant death, but since it was in training it still called for a flogging. Luckily, only one poor soul was selected for that punishment, which was administered when we returned to base camp, only because he had been caught not once but twice. Since it was our first such march, I guessed, the Centurions were content with administering a particularly severe session with their vitus to the men caught asleep. In our case, Pilus Prior Crastinus, Optio Vinicius, and even the Tesseraurius, a man named Titus Cordius who was our designated man to receive the challenge and password every day, came to check on us at regular intervals. Somehow even Artorius managed to stay awake, by virtue of being paired with Scribonius I expect, so that we were one of the few tent sections who did not have anyone fall asleep.