“Welcome home, boys,” he roared, the color of his face showing a hint to us that he may have started the celebrations ahead of us.
Passing among us, he shook each of our hands, gave us a slap on the back and made some sort of comment about something we did in training that had either amused him or angered him, although he still relayed the latter with a laugh.
When he got to me, he looked up at me and shouted, “Well! Here’s the hero! Hasn’t seen a battle yet but he already has those Lusitani cunni shaking in their tracks!”
I could feel the blush moving up my neck to my face, and I quickly glanced around. Of course, I was the center of attention but I could not determine what the looks I was receiving meant. Some of the men were grinning at me, apparently delighted at my discomfort; some were not smiling yet still looked friendly. There was only one whose countenance I could not mistake; Didius glowered at me, the bruises under his eyes still slightly visible, making him look like he badly needed a night of sleep. Seeing his displeasure made me feel somewhat better and I grinned, first in his direction then back down to the Pilus Prior.
“I certainly hope that I can live up to your belief in me Pilus Prior,” I said honestly.
He laughed and replied, “You will, boy. You will. I have no doubt of that. Once I saw you working the wooden sword, I knew that you'd be one to watch. Just save some for the rest of the boys, eh?”
With another slap on the shoulder, he moved on to the next man, leaving me to stare bemusedly into my wine cup. I was glad that he possessed no doubts; that made one of us. Vibius saw my thoughtful expression and came over to me, leaning against the wall of the rude hut that served to shelter all of the carousers who found their way there every night.
“Aaah,” he cried cheerfully, “quit moping about, you big ox. You’ll be fine and you know it. He’s right, you’ll probably kill so many of those barbarians that there won’t be enough left for the rest of us.”
Despite his jovial tone, I was still not willing to give up my contemplative mood.
Shrugging, I could only reply, “I hope it works out like that. But the truth is, none of us really know, do we? I mean,” I continued, lowering my voice, “nobody truly knows how they’ll react until it happens, neh? So for all I know, I may find that my knees turn to water, and I piss myself like a girl.”
Having gotten it out at last, I hurriedly took a swallow of my wine so I could hide my face and shame at having made such an admission.
“That much is true,” a quiet voice sounded next to me, and I swiveled my head to see Calienus standing there.
Obviously he had heard what I said, so I saw no point in pretending otherwise. He examined me with a kindly expression, one that I imagined a big brother would use when his little brother came to confide in him some wrong done to him. Without waiting for me to answer, he continued, “Nobody really knows what they’ll do the first time they face the enemy, unless they’re a liar or fool like him,” he jerked his head in the direction of Didius, who had managed to draw a crowd around him, no doubt boasting of the glory he was going to earn. “All you can do is this; rely on your training, and put your trust in the man next to you.” Grabbing me by the shoulder, he turned me about so that he could look me in the eye as he spoke. “The rest will come much easier than you think. When the moment comes, trust me, you’ll know what to do.” Turning to Vibius then, he finished, “And both of you need to watch each other’s back at all times.”
“All right, Sergeant, but we haven’t started the fighting yet,” protested Vibius with a laugh, which died in his throat when he saw that Calienus was not joining him. “I wasn’t talking about the Lusitani,” he replied in a voice pitched just loudly enough to be heard over the din but not any farther than where we were standing. “I’m talking about with him.”
He nodded his head, again in the direction of Didius. Perhaps it was a coincidence, perhaps not, but when we looked over in the direction that Calienus had indicated, we both saw Didius drinking from his cup, staring straight at us.
I had never drunk so much in my young life as I did that night, and truthfully, I do not remember much of what transpired. However, I vividly remember the next day, when we were roused by the Pilus Prior, who amazingly seemed none the worse for wear, and was in his normally loud state.
“On your feet you cunni,” he roared when he shoved his face into our tent, his customary morning greeting. If we were expecting that the goodwill that he had shown to us the night before would be present this morning we were disappointed. Indeed, as the day progressed it was as if the day before never happened, which we found not only puzzling, but a little disturbing.
Going to Calienus for guidance, he explained to us, “It’s going to be like this a little while longer, at least until we’re blooded. The Pilus Prior is going to keep pushing us until he knows exactly what we can do in battle. If we do well, then you’ll see more of what you saw last night, though not as much.”
I for one, despite understanding what he was saying, still did not like it. We were Gregarii now after all; that is what the whole ceremony had been about the day before, and I expressed this to Calienus, who shook his head.
“What happened yesterday was unusual. Normally you'd have completed your four months of training before swearing in, but Caesar's anxious to move because it’s already late. So he had you sworn in earlier than usual. It didn’t sit well with some of the Centurions, I’ll tell you that.” Before we could ask the question, Calienus added, “The Pilus Prior wasn’t one of them though. I heard him telling the Optio he thinks our Century is ready to go right now. Second Century,” he rolled his eyes and we laughed, “is another story.”
The conclusion of our training was a forced march of all the Legions, the 7th, 8th 9th and 10th, culminating in the creation of two marching camps, followed by a mock battle the next day with two Legions against two Legions, along with the cavalry and auxiliaries, now numbering about another 5,000 men, split evenly between the two sides. Particular emphasis was placed on the changing of formations; from column into line, then moving as quickly back into column as we could, simulating the march to contact, with a battle, then a pursuit of a withdrawing force. The last thing that we practiced was how to stage a fighting withdrawal, and much was made by the Centurions that although we would never likely use this, it was still good to know. We wholeheartedly agreed, taking their word for it that we would never use it, the veterans among us openly scoffing at the idea.
“I haven’t taken a backward step on the battlefield yet,” barked the Pilus Prior, “and with you bastards with me, I don’t plan on it ever happening.”
This brought a roar of approval from us, and it was clear to all of us that we were ready to march, for real this time, against a real enemy.
Chapter 4- Campaign in Lusitania
We were given two days in which to arrange our affairs, deposit excess baggage into stores, and put finishing touches on our weapons and uniforms. All last-moment items like the replacement of thongs that tied pieces of gear to us that had broken, or javelins that had become unserviceable were taken care of, in anticipation of leaving the camp for good, or at least for the rest of the season. Spirits were running high, as were tempers, and there were a number of minor skirmishes among Legionaries from different Legions, Cohorts and Centuries, yet that was to be expected. At least that is what Calienus told us.