“What of the corrupt officers?” Artorius asked.
“Those fucking bastards were also put on trial. Since technically they had not committed a capital crime, Germanicus could not execute them. Too bad, I can only imagine the venom and wrath their bodies would have received from us.
“However, he did dismiss and throw out of the army all the officers who were convicted of abuse. In order to accomplish this, the general revised the list of centurions. Each, at his summons, stated his name, his rank, his birthplace, the number of his campaigns, what brave deeds he had done in battle, his military rewards, if any. If the tribunes and the legate commended his energy and good behavior, he retained his rank; where they unanimously charged him with rapacity or cruelty, he was dismissed from service. 2 Many of these centurions had more than enough years to retire, and now they had nothing. Served the bastards right. Of the fifty-nine centurions in the Twentieth, twenty-seven were convicted and dismissed. This included four of the cohort commanders. That shook things up amongst the ranks, and led to promotion opportunities for many of the options. Hence, there are now a number of younger centurions in the legion. That is how Macro was promoted. He was our optio and had fought for a long time against the practice of extorting money from soldiers.
“Anyway, we soon took to the field on a punitive expedition against some of the local tribes that had assisted Arminius. Several battles later, our spirits were revived and the scourge of mutiny was laid to rest. No one talks of it. It is something that we are not proud of, and we’d be glad if it were never mentioned back home.”
“That was an interesting story,” Gavius said. “More wine? You looked parched.”
“Yes, thank you,” Decimus said.
Just then they heard a loud voice shouting, “come back here, you rat-bastard!” They turned just in time to see Praxus, laughing uncontrollably, come rushing into the tavern. He was being chased by a thoroughly maddened and equally naked Valens, who was swinging his gladius wildly, which was still in its scabbard. As Praxus rushed past the table where his friends were, Valens threw the sword at him. Decimus very calmly grabbed the wine pitcher and his goblet off the table as the gladius crashed into Artorius’ and Gavius’ drinks, sending goblet shards and wine everywhere. Praxus was still chuckling to himself as he sat down. Decimus handed him the wine pitcher, which he immediately started to drink out of. Once he realized that several dozen sets of eyes were fixed on him, Valens gave a nonchalant shrug.
“What?” he asked as he turned around and casually started strutting towards the door, all the while making no attempt to cover his exposed nether regions. “Praxus, be a good man and bring my gladius back to the barracks, will you?” he called over his shoulder.
Praxus gave him the thumbs up while attempting to finish off the pitcher of wine in one pull.
They spent the rest of the night drinking and chasing the tavern wenches. Somehow, everyone actually managed to find their way back through the main gate and to their barracks. Artorius had not drunk quite as excessively as the rest, though he still felt the after effects and slept late.
The next morning Artorius walked briskly around the inside perimeter of the fortress. He was feeling vigorous and full of life, in spite of his excesses of the night before. As he walked back towards the barracks, he saw a lone soldier sitting on the ground, near a secluded section of the wall. He thought nothing of it until he saw that it was Gavius from his section. He was sitting with his back against the wall, his knees curled up into his chest, and his arms wrapped around his legs. The young legionary seemed to be disturbed about something.
“Hey, Gavius,” Artorius called, waving to him.
Gavius just nodded his way and continued to stare off into space. This puzzled Artorius, so he walked over to the man who only days before had been a recruit like him.
“Something the matter?” he asked.
Gavius just ignored him.
“Oh come on, don’t tell me you didn’t have enough coinage on you last night to score you a little strumpet.” He elbowed his friend good naturedly. He composed himself when he realized there was something more serious at work in Gavius’ mind. Artorius sat down next to him.
“Are you going to tell me what is on your mind, or do I have to drag Magnus over here and have him beat it out of you?”
“I’m afraid, Artorius,” Gavius finally replied.
Artorius looked at him, puzzled.
“Afraid, of what?” he asked.
“Failure,” Gavius replied. “I try to come across as strong, both in body and spirit. Truth is I’m scared out of my mind. I have no family. I was orphaned when I was only a child. I lived poor and in the streets. Only my name allowed me to join the army. I have a better chance at life here than I have ever had. To fail here will mean that I failed in life.”
“I don’t see how you could view yourself as a potential failure,” Artorius conjectured. “We all struggled through recruit training, but we made it. You’re one of the best javelin throwers I’ve seen. You fight well enough when we spar, so what is it?”
“I guess I’ve never had anyone expect anything of me before. I feel so overwhelmed at the possibility of letting these men down, especially the veterans who work with us. They’ve become the big brothers that I never had. I know we’ve only been in the army a short while and have barely made it through training. I just feel that in that short time I’ve become a part of something. That something is much larger that I can ever be. To be successful at it is a heavy burden.”
“Yet it is a burden we all accepted willingly,” Artorius answered. “And truth is, to be a soldier of Rome takes more than any man can give of himself. There is only one way that any of us can succeed in this life, and that is by working together. A man in the ranks is not best judged by how he performs as an individual. What best judges him is how well he uses his talents in conjunction with those of his brothers. Our combined skills, yours and mine, are worth more than those of ten men who cannot work together. That is how the Roman Army has won so many of its battles when greatly outnumbered. Together we hold the very fabric of the Empire together.” He clutched his hand in a fist to emphasize the point.
“And if we fail to hold that together?” Gavius asked.
Artorius smiled and shrugged. “We don’t, because it is not an option. Accept the fact that you are a valuable part of this century, Gavius. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here. None of us will fail, because we don’t let each other fail.”
Gavius smiled and nodded at that. Artorius rose to his feet, smacked his friend on the shoulder and started to walk away.
“Looking forward to your first sparring session with Vitruvius tomorrow?” Gavius asked.
“No,” Artorius answered, without looking back. “I’m starting to think I may have lost all control of my senses on that one.”
The next day, Praxus and Sergeant Statorius passed by the drill and practice field. They turned to watch as two legionaries sparred with each other. Both were big men, ripped with muscle, though one was slightly taller and even larger than the other. Within seconds, the larger man had beaten his opponent down and was standing over him with his training gladius pointed at his opponent’s throat. Praxus and Statorius just smiled and shook their heads.
“Seems like our Artorius is getting the first of his personal lessons from Vitruvius,” Statorius remarked.
“I wonder how long he’ll last,” Praxus said as they watched Vitruvius help the young legionary get to his feet before they squared off again.
Within seconds, Artorius was on the ground again, this time he was doubled up, clutching at his stomach.
Praxus dropped his head while stifling a laugh. “I’ll be surprised if he comes back after today.”
In the background, Artorius got to his feet, breathing heavily and set into his fighting stance once more.