Also in this account, I will endeavor to recall conversations and events as exactly as possible, and I must beg the reader’s forgiveness because of the coarseness and crudity of some of the conversations, because they are the words of soldiers and are not the manner of speech one would normally use in polite company. However, I have made a vow to Jupiter Optimus Maximus that I will recount as faithfully as I can all that transpired in those days. One might ask, how is it possible that I will be able to remember conversations that occurred thirty or forty years earlier? First, I have been blessed with the type of memory that seems to retain more than others, and second, even as events were transpiring, I had an idea that they were noteworthy. Perhaps I even had it in the back of my mind that I would one day want to record the events of the day, although I had no idea how I could accomplish this. When I enlisted in the Legions, I was barely literate, able to write my name, and to read very simple instructions and the like, meaning the idea of writing this down would have been nonsense. However I somehow always knew that one day I would be in the position where I either had the ability myself, or I would be able to use someone to create this record. In fact, that was the great, burning ambition of my life, to elevate not only myself but those who follow bearing my name into the equestrian class, an ambition that has been fulfilled.
Now, as I look back on my life, I know that I am nearer to the end than to the beginning, and despite being in good health, only the gods know how much longer I will live. Therefore, I have decided to start this last mission of mine, and will devote almost all of my time to it. In truth, I have nothing much else to do; I am a wealthy man, and while I hold office here in Arelate it is mainly a ceremonial post, leaving me free to come and go as I please, just as long as I am present to march at the head of the procession on festival days. Truth be told, I am bored. I know that I no longer have the strength of body to continue in the Legions, but my spirit is still as if I were a 16 year old lad, on the lookout for adventure and a way to improve my station in life. Such is the cruel humor of the gods; ability may wane, but desire never does.
And I am lonely; I miss my comrades, I miss the Legions and the life of the Legions. I will find myself staring at my armor, my helmet, shield and sword, and thinking, if only I could stop time. But I can’t, so there is no use in dwelling on it. Perhaps that is why those few comrades of mine who managed to survive as long as I have drink as much as they do. In particular, I miss my friends Vibius and Scribonius, but Vibius is dead more than ten years now, and while Scribonius is alive, he is far, far away and with his nose buried in a book, I am sure. Thinking of Vibius in particular only makes me more melancholy, both for his death and for all that transpired between us. When all is said and done, I am a warrior without a war to march to, and I fear that this fact alone, not any sickness of the body or just plain old age will finally send me to the afterlife.
Before I go, however, I have one last job to do, not dissimilar to some of the jobs I had to do in the Legions. It will take patience and endurance, but most importantly it will require me to relive certain memories that I have not thought of in many, many years. Nevertheless, now I must turn my mind’s eye to the past, moving back over the years, and the miles, and the battles, to find the young man that I was, the young man who was looking for adventure and a way out of his life, along with his best friend.
Chapter 2: Joining the Legion
I joined the Legions as part of the dilectus authorized by the Senate in the year of the Consulships of Marcus Piso Frugi and Marcus Mesalla Niger, journeying to the provincial capital of Scallabis where the new Legion was gathering. I came to the capital accompanied by my best friend Vibius Domitius and his father, along with my own father and our slaves Phocas and Gaia. Growing up on a small farm outside the town of Astigi, a two day’s journey south of Corduba, it was a farm in name only. My father was completely indifferent towards making the farm anything more than a source of subsistence, and a poor one at that, preferring instead to lavish his love and time on endless amphorae of wine. In short, he was a drunkard, and he hated me with a passion, claiming that I was the source of all of his sorrows, insisting that I had killed my mother. I was, and am very large in both height and breadth, and I was such a large baby that the strain of delivering me into the world was too much for her. The result was that she died shortly after I was born, and it was for this reason my father bore me such hatred that rarely a day went by that he did not remind me of the circumstances of my birth. The one fortunate outcome his feelings for me had, however, was that he was persuaded to swear that I was of a legal age to join the Legions in this dilectus when in fact I was still only sixteen, a year short of the minimum age at that time, albeit with a little prodding on my part. I took this risk because it was the only way that Vibius and I could join together, since he was a year older than I was, and we had been friends for ten years. We met by virtue of my rescuing him from having his head being dumped into a bucket of cac by some older boys one day when I went to town to buy some nails. Vibius was small, both as a boy and now as a man, but he was exceptionally strong, was quick as lightning, and possessed that ferocity that comes from being small one’s whole life and having to fight for everything. We made an odd pair to look at, yet from the day we met we were inseparable, and both of us shared the dream of joining the Legions since either one could remember, making it unthinkable for one of us to join the army without the other, even if it meant that I had to lie to get in. Both of us were so fixated on being the best Legionaries possible that we badgered one of Pompey’s veterans who lived nearby, a man who lost an eye fighting Sertorius and who we called Cyclops, into training us in the exact manner of the Legions. He had been drilling us for two years, several times a week, making us confident that we would acquit ourselves well when we began our real training. In fact, on the day when we bade Cyclops farewell, he took me aside to tell me that he thought I had the makings of a superb Legionary, the highest praise I had ever been given, by anyone.
I was leaving behind my two sisters, Livia and Valeria, and despite the fact I loved both my sisters, it was Valeria I was closest to, because she had essentially been my mother in everything but name. Now they were both married and I was left alone to fend for myself with our father. Our slave Phocas, and his woman Gaia, the names given to them by my father, did their best to protect me from Lucius, but they were slaves and there is only so much a slave can do to a master. Fortunately, my father’s beatings were long since ceased, once I became much larger and stronger than he was, yet that did not stop him from constantly reminding me how worthless I was, and how I would never amount to anything. Deep down I knew that if I did not leave the farm soon, there would come a point where I would strike my father down. When I was young, I possessed a fearsome temper, and had not developed the sufficient amount of self-control to that point to be sure that I would be able to stop myself if my father went too far one day, and no matter what the provocation, any son who kills the paterfamilias faces the harshest punishment under Roman law. Therefore, it was better for everyone that I took this step in joining the Legions, and to that end I made a deal with my father that if he would swear that I was the legal age to join, he would never have to gaze on my face again, a pact that was mutually satisfactory. Of course, nothing is ever that simple; in order to finally persuade him it was in both of our best interests, I swore that if he did not enter into this agreement that he would never be able to sleep soundly again, for I would find a way to kill him.