“Is that you Pullus?” he asked, his surprise obvious.
“Yes Pilus Prior, and you’re welcome.” I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it certainly was not what came out of his mouth.
“Welcome, am I? We’ll see how welcome I am once I’ve striped your back you cunnus. I seem to remember telling you specifically to remain at your post.”
“But…” I was cut off before I could finish my protest.
“But nothing. Those were your orders and you disobeyed them. Your ass is mine.” Without another word, he turned back to face another Lusitani, parrying a blow as easily as if he were waving his vitus around. I was stunned, but I was also angry, so I turned it on the Lusitani. With another roar, I waded into a small knot of men engaged in a desperate struggle, knocking both Lusitani and Roman aside to begin thrusting, hacking, and swinging my sword about, barely registering when I scored any kind of hit except by the shouts or screams of men I wounded or killed. Disdaining the use of my shield for any kind of defense, instead I began swinging it about, smashing into both friend and foe that stood in my way. I felt myself giving way to the anger and rage I felt inside, that instead of gratitude I faced a flogging from the Pilus Prior for saving his life. It also angered me that these men were trying to kill me, that men like Didius could shirk their duties of defending Rome, it angered me that Juno picked Vibius over me, that Vibius beat me at dice just the night before, and it angered me that my father hated me because in my birth I had killed the only thing he ever loved. In that moment, I felt the rage surge through me, washing over me in a warm flood, giving me more energy than I had ever experienced in my life. Feeling the blood spattering my face, instead of my normal revulsion, I reveled in it, loving the warm sticky fluid as it started to dry on my skin. Becoming dimly aware that the roars of triumph coming from the Lusitani were turning into cries of alarm, it only fueled me to keep killing and maiming. It was in that moment that I knew I had found my purpose in life; I was a killer, a machine, and there was nothing that could stand in my way and live if I did not wish it to be so.
My next conscious memory is standing alone, panting, my legs trembling and feeling the fatigue so greatly that I could not lift my arms, even if it meant my life to do so. I also became gradually aware that the noise of battle was gone; not totally, but certainly the furious sounds of frantic combat had disappeared. The wider world around me slowly came into focus, and it surprised me when I noticed that I seemed to be standing by myself, so I peered around in the dark until I saw several Roman helmets profiled against a lightening sky. It appeared that all heads were turned towards me as I continued my return by noting that the ground around me seemed to be piled much higher with bodies than anywhere else. With my breathing slowing, I felt a slight surge of energy coming back, so I began to move towards my original position on the wall, and was annoyed to find that I had to lift my leg like I was climbing a low fence, except this one was made of flesh and bone, some of which was still moving and emitting low moans. I was unbelievably weary, to the point that all I wanted to do was to sit down somewhere and rest, especially once the memory of the words I had exchanged with the Pilus Prior came back to me. If I was going to be flogged, I wanted to be as fresh as I could get. By this point, the fighting had almost completely ceased; I heard the clash of metal on metal and shouts over where the diversion started, except there was none of the urgency in the voices of the section leaders and the men in that spot. Very quickly I was surrounded by my comrades, two of them stepping aside to let me through without saying a word, for which I was thankful, because I was barely able to move; adding talking to the burden I felt sure would cause me to collapse. Steering myself in the direction of where my gear was lying on the ground just behind where I had been posted on the wall, I focused on just putting one foot in front of the other. A slight breeze blew except instead of being refreshed I felt clammy and was surprised to realize that every part of my body where open skin showed was wet, and as the breeze did its work to dry the moisture, I could feel my skin tighten as whatever covered me cooled. It must be blood, I thought. That did not stop me from finding my gear, feeling in the dark to count from the end of the pile to where mine would be, before collapsing more than sitting down. Not even bothering to shed my armor, I laid down my shield then arranged my sword so it was not in the way, removed my helmet and fell backwards, asleep before my head hit the ground. The fact that I was violating all sorts of regulations and had not been given leave to rest did not even cross my mind.
I was awakened by a kick to my feet, opening my eyes to a blinding sun shining right in my eyes. Jerking alert, I sat up immediately, trying to clear my head a bit as I strained to see who it was standing above me, outlined like a god coming down from the heavens with the sun behind him. It was no god, just the Optio, and his face was expressionless when he spoke.
“Get up, Pullus. The Pilus Prior wants to see you now.”
Groaning, partly from the soreness I felt as I got up but more because of the dread of facing Pilus Prior Crastinus’ wrath, I got to my feet, swaying a little, and the Optio put out a quick hand to steady me.
“Easy Pullus. Well," he shook his head after looking me up and down, "you’re quite a sight but it’ll have to do. You all right now?”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and led me to where the Pilus Prior was standing with the section leaders. I estimated that it was at least two parts of a watch past sunrise, and I was surprised that I was not roused earlier. All of the carnage from the night before was now clear to see, causing my step to falter as I looked around at the mangled bodies and the huge dark spots on the ground where men's lifeblood had left their body to return to the earth. Work parties were carrying corpses and throwing them into a pile of enemy dead, but I was more concerned with the bodies wearing our uniform and I looked around for a spot where they might be laid. Surveying the surroundings, I saw there was one spot with a concentration of bodies much higher than what was strewn around the rest of our makeshift walls, identifiable as well by the fact that they were on the inside of the dirt barrier. I was almost to the Pilus Prior when I frowned; while everyone was still wearing their gear, and there were Legionaries on the wall facing where the Lusitani camp was, there were still a significant number of men who were busy with other tasks. From where I was, I could not see over the wall to their camp to see what the Lusitani were doing, and I was unable to pay any more attention because I was now standing in front of the Pilus Prior.
Coming to intente, I saluted in my best parade ground fashion and barked out, “Gregarius Titus Pullus reporting as ordered, sir.”