After the morning ritual of the latrines where they sat talking about the day ahead and then cleaning themselves, they dressed and prepared for the new day and ate some breakfast. Valerius pulled his boots up around his shins they were essentially made from one piece of leather with hobnails on the sole. He wrapped the leather thongs around his leg and tied them off securing his boots in place. Picking up his cingulum a small metal apron, he placed it round his waist, belt like, and secured it in place. It was an essential piece of armour that covered a legionary’s groin, a place no soldier would want to be stabbed. Hefting his lorica segmentata, segmented armour, up off the ground where it had spent the night, he placed it over his shoulders and fastened the buckles at the front. Then he pulled down on his tunic as the fabric had a tendency to overlap underneath and become uncomfortable.
“What are we doing today, anyone know?” He asked as those around him put their own uniforms on.
“I heard it was a forced march, out and back, twelve miles each way.” Vescus said.
“Rampart building I heard.” Another voice shouted from somewhere at the back of the barrack block, “Practising for when we start campaigning again in the spring.”
“Fuck me how many times do we have to do the same thing?” Pollo said, “I’ll have blisters on the end of my cock if this carries on. It’s actually easier in spring because we’re out there doing it.”
“The newer lads need the practise I suppose.” Valerius said. A couple of the younger faces reddened and looked away.
“Practise,” Pollo said, “my wrinkly sack,” he turned and spoke to one of the new lads, “how many marches did you do during your basic training?”
“Lost count Pollo,” he replied looking up, “towards the end we were out every day virtually, quick marching n’all, full kit too.”
“And how many marching camps did you build?” Pollo asked.
“Put it this way, if we went out, we built,” he scratched his head, “no idea to be honest, must’ve been over thirty I say.”
“Do you see what I mean?” Pollo said, “I wonder how many miles we will have marched and how many camps we’ll have built by the time our service is up?” He looked at the faces staring back at him, “Hundreds I’d say.” He sat back down on his mattress, “Maybe I’ll just stay in bed today instead, could do with a day off.” Valerius smiled as the door to their barracks was flung open.
“Right you shower of shit,” it was Optio Crispus, he was standing in the doorway looking as pristine as ever, the white plume on his helmet shaking as he shouted, “outside. Stop blathering and playing with each other’s cocks and get yourselves outside, double time.” The men scrambled for pieces of kit and headed towards the door.
“Forgotten something have we?” He shouted, faces reddening, they stopped, some skidding to a halt. “Entrenching tools, axes, spades….” He paused, “In fact bring it all, you idle lot.” He looked around at the men now picking up extra pieces of kit, “I think you’ll need them unless of course you want to use your dicks to dig up soil,” he looked at Pollo adding, “and no Legionary Pollo, that wasn’t an excuse for you to tell us about that shrivelled up maggot you call a cock and how you’ve used it to build garrisons before.” His beady eyes stared through Pollo, “Come on, outside the lot of you, we’re going to show the second cohort how we’re not only quicker but can build better, bigger ramparts.” His eyes flashed from soldier to soldier, “Love it don’t you, you bastards?” He smiled, “I almost wish I was a mere mortal again and could dig with you but someone’s got to show you how to do it eh Pollo?”
“Yes Optio although I think that most of us know by now.” He said.
Crispus feinted being surprised, “Well thank you General Gaius Julius Fucking Caesar,” he pursed his lips together, “Tell you what Pollo, why don’t you spend the day playing with yourself in that fart filled, greasy bed of yours and we’ll go out and hammer the second eh?”
“Tha……..” Pollo began.
“Get your stinking carcass outside onto that parade square right now Pollo and the rest of you.” He walked further into the room. “Move it, come on quickly or you’ll find my boot wedged so far up your tight little arseholes, you won’t be able to shit for weeks.” The men of the first cohort ran past the optio and out into the morning drizzle, equipment clanging and banging against each other. Crispus followed quickly behind.
“Behold,” he said raising his arms to the heavens, “what a glorious day for digging. Come on, form up quickly.”
As they formed their lines the legionaries of the second cohort were being screamed at by their equally cheerful optio a few feet away, it was going to be a long hard day.
Just as it was beginning to get dark and the light was starting to fade, the palisades that the men of the first and second cohorts had built were non-existent. All their hard efforts were now reduced to compacted mud where they had destroyed their work on the orders of their optios. As was befitting of their status, the first cohort had completed their rampart before the men of the second and had been the first to reduce it to rubble and then to put the soil back into the earth afterwards, Crispus was a happy man. The soldiers of the first and second cohorts stood breathing heavily, saturated in sweat and covered in mud.
“Well done men,” Crispus shouted addressing both sections, “especially the first cohort.” He lowered his voice slightly, “Now I know that this can become mind numbingly boring and tedious, but we do it for a reason.” He examined the sweating faces before him, “If we’re out there in the field and have had a nice long walk through the rolling hills and enemy territory, we need to be able to build a marching camp and build it very quickly in order for you to rest your pretty heads. This will enable you to rise the next day, weary I know, but you’ll still be alive and then you’ll be able to butcher the enemy, so there is a good reason for this.” The men stood almost to attention were beginning to sway. “Now when I give the order to dismiss, you are to return to your barracks, clean your kit, wash yourselves in the bathhouse and the wines on me and my fellow optio here.” For the first time that day the first and second cohorts smiled in unison. “And no fucking fighting because if we get called out to sort you lot out, I’ll make you all sorry. Any men caught fighting will have their balls burnt on a brazier in the morning. Do you understand?”
After a few chuckles there was a chorus of, “Yes Optio Crispus.” It boomed around the parade square.
“Right good lads now get out of my sight the lot of you, first and second cohorts, dismissed.”
They fell out and wearily headed towards their adjoining barrack blocks, bits of mud still falling from shovels, axes and spades. Behind them the parade ground was level again, the soil compacted flat. It was a routine that would go on for months and tomorrow it would be the turn of another two cohorts to construct a rampart from the earth, at least the soil wouldn’t be hard as it had been for the first and second.
Before Grattius was aware of what was occurring, it had happened, and all he had time to do was flinch and flinch again. One second he had been standing waiting for the sword to fall, not believing that his life was to end on some stupid errand, killed by an uneducated barbarian pig and then the cracks began.
He watched transfixed, unsure what was happening at first as he heard a crack and the eyes of the Briton with the sword held high, rolled into the back of his head. He began to fall, straight down as the first impact was followed by others, crack, crack. Before he hit the ground, Grattius saw there were four arrows buried deep into his back. Looking up he saw that his comrades shared his fate as they too were felled by arrows ripping into their flesh. Heads and bodies were pierced by sharp barbs and in mere moments it was over, the threat was gone. Grattius scoured the trees but saw nothing, he turned back to Brenna and Lita who were obviously as surprised as he was by their escape from death but silence surrounded them. He strained his ears listening but all he could hear was the falling rain.