The young recruit gritted his teeth and kept his eyes front as the centurion continued to chastise him both physically and verbally. Finally, with a yell of determination he lunged forward and attacked the wooden stake with renewed energy.
“Better,” he heard Macro say aloud. “Keep it going, recruit.” Artorius immediately renewed his own assault, lest he, too, fall victim to the centurion’s wrath.
That evening he sat in the heated pool in the bathhouse for some time, allowing the hot water to do its magic on his tight and aching muscles. He watched as Magnus slowly limped into the pool. He had several marks across his back, though none looked to have caused any kind of long-term injury. Still, Magnus winced as he lowered himself into the water.
“Certainly knows how to motivate, doesn’t he?” Artorius asked sarcastically.
“Artorius,” Magnus grumbled with his head lying back against the side of the pool, “would you take offense if I told you to go fuck yourself?”
Artorius laughed at his friend’s plight.
“Seriously though,” Magnus said, looking his way. “I suppose I should be grateful to Centurion Macro for helping me to strengthen my body and my mind.”
Artorius wasn’t sure if he was serious or if he was being sarcastic.
“And to think we actually volunteered for this,” Artorius mused to himself, his eyes shut.
“Ha!” Magnus snorted. “I swear the centurion’s not even human. Nor is that decanus who’s out there teaching us weapons drill. That man is some type of unholy machine. Either that or he’s a god of some sorts.”
“Oh relax,” they heard Praxus say as he lowered himself into the pool. “I assure you, Vitruvius is quite human.”
Magnus looked down into the steaming water. “I have got to watch what I say until I know who may be listening,” he whispered.
“It’s no big deal,” Praxus replied. He seemed vibrant and full of life.
Obviously, he had not just had his backside beaten by a pissed off centurion with a vine stick.
“Trust me, I’ve been there myself on more than one occasion, to include after I got out of recruit training.”
“When was the last time you ever got the vine stick?” Artorius asked, suddenly curious.
“About a year and a half ago,” Praxus answered, his voice serious. “I was on sentry duty. I had spent the night before letting loose with wine and women, knowing I was to be on duty the next day. Well, about halfway through my shift I decided to use my shield as a prop and catch a quick nap. Lo and behold if Centurion Macro doesn’t wake me up with a blow to the back of my helmet. He caught me so hard, my helmet actually came off. He then walked away, without saying another word. As soon as I got off shift, I received one of the worst beatings I have ever taken in my life.
“What made it harder was there was a set of orders sitting on Macro’s desk, promoting me to decanus and giving me command of my own section. Needless to say, those got burned; I lost my immune status, also. It was only within the last few months that I got that back. And to be honest, I’ll be lucky now if I ever see Sergeant.” He paused for a few seconds, while contemplating things. “But then again, I did get off pretty easy. Falling asleep on sentry duty can be considered a capital offense. Macro could just as easily have had me crucified or hanged.” As Praxus finished his story, Valens and Decimus joined them.
“Valens, you haven’t been out with one of your whores again, have you?” Praxus asked, pretending to be annoyed.
“Just came from there.” Valens announced, grabbing at his crotch.
“I hope you wash that thing before you get in here.” Praxus retorted. “Gods know what you’d get in the water.”
“Actually, our Valens here has stepped up in the world,” Decimus announced. “I saw this one. She had all of her teeth.”
Praxus frowned and nodded. “I have to say Valens, I’m impressed.”
Artorius laughed and climbed out of the hot water as the others continued in their tasteless banter.
“Get your packs ready and line up outside!” Statorius bellowed to the recruits the next morning.
Immediately they all grabbed their packs and started to don their body armor.
“Leave the armor. Helmet and cloak only,” the Sergeant called out.
As Artorius and the others filed outside, they saw the rest of the cohort’s recruits were heading towards their position. Flanking them was a century’s worth of legionaries in full body armor and kit. Valgus was dressed the same, as was a centurion whom the recruits had never seen before.
“Recruits, this is Centurion Dominus, Commander of the Fourth Century. Today, the Fourth is going on a little road march to stretch their legs. In order to get your weak asses in shape, you will be joining them. Fall in on the center of the formation.”
With that, Optio Valgus stood in the front rank, at the head of the cohort’s recruits. The centurion stood at the front of the column, along with the Fourth Century’s signifier.
“Century!” he bellowed. “Forward…march!” With much awkwardness, the recruits stepped off with the regular legionaries. It wasn’t until they reached the gates of the fortress that they finally got in step with the other soldiers.
Artorius was surprised at the quickness of the pace that the Fourth Century set. Regardless of individual height, their strides were long and rapid. It stretched his legs; he wondered how long he could keep up at such a pace. It was no wonder the legions were able to cover long distances on an average day’s march. He noticed how the regular soldiers’ eyes and heads all swiveled slightly, scanning their surroundings and the horizon. Since there was little threat on their side of the Rhine, he figured it all came instinctively to them.
The air was cold, and he could see his breath. However, the pace kept the blood flowing and prevented the cold from penetrating. Snow crunched underneath their feet as they marched in step. Artorius listened as the belts and equipment from the legionaries bounced in rhythm off their armor, creating its own cadence to match their step. Though he started to feel winded after the first few miles, he found that by focusing on the sounds of the march, he was able to push the fatigue from his mind. The steady cadence became almost hypnotic, and he found himself lost in a dreamless trance.
“Century…halt!” The legionaries took one extra step and then stopped together. The recruits, lost as they were in their own world, stumbled and crashed into each other. One poor fellow had the misfortune of bumping hard into Optio Valgus, who in turn spun around and smashed him on top of the helm with his staff.
“You clumsy piece of shit!” he yelled into the hapless recruit’s face. “Pay attention to what is going on around you. I swear I will castrate the next one of you who falls out of step.” With that he smacked the recruit across the back of the helm, causing it to spin a quarter turn until the left cheek guard was over his face.
“And for gods’ sake tighten up your damn helmet straps.” he yelled as he hit the recruit yet again across the helmet.
Centurion Dominus seemed to be laughing, though when he caught the recruits looking his way, his face immediately turned to a scowl.
“What the fuck are you jackals looking at?” he hollered at them.
Immediately they turned their eyes to the front, and the centurion resumed his chuckling.
It was nearly dark by the time they returned to the fortress. The legionaries were mildly tired and worn, though nothing compared to the exhaustion felt by the inexperienced recruits. In spite of their exhaustion, not one fell out of step or missed a command from the centurion. Once Dominus had dismissed his century, Valgus turned and faced the recruits.
“Alright, nice leisurely stroll today, twenty miles, without body armor, shield, or javelins. The average march is twenty-five miles, in full body armor. And let’s not forget that at the end of a march comes setting up camp, digging ditches, building palisades, and of course, the rotating sentry watch. When you can conduct the full twenty-five miles in full kit without passing out like a bunch of fat eunuchs, you might be ready to become legionaries. Dismissed!”