Vitruvius patted him on the shoulder and started to walk towards the door. “See you next week,” he said as he left.
Once he had fully gotten his breath back, Artorius stowed his training shield and gladius and walked out of the drill hall. It was a cold but sunny day. There was just a trace of snow on the ground. Damn, but he hated the cold! He failed to see how anyone could stand to live in such a frigid, damp environment. He was sweaty from his exertions, and this combined with the cold air made him tremble badly. He needed to dry off and warm up or he would surely catch a chill. After a short stint in the bathhouse, he headed back to the Second Century’s barracks.
As he walked into the main office, he saw Statorius and the rest of their section looking at a large piece of parchment on a table. He recognized the soldiers from Sergeant Vitruvius’ section, though the decanus himself was not present. Flaccus was pointing things out to them on the parchment and answering questions.
“Artorius, back from your weekly beating I see,” Statorius remarked. “Come here and take a look at this.”
Artorius walked up to the table. On the parchment there looked to be plans and building diagrams.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“This is something you will become very efficient at building over the next couple of months,” Flaccus said with a smile. “These are plans for coastal barges: basically, a large raft with short sides to keep waves from soaking you too badly. Each can carry approximately twenty men. The army has orders to build a thousand of these by the time we start our next campaign.”
“Meaning our next campaign will involve an amphibious assault,” Artorius observed.
“Correct,” Flaccus replied.
“And since approximately twenty men can fit onto one of these, every two sections in each century gets to build one,” Statorius said.
“Top that off with the privilege you get of riding all the way into the heart of Germania with me,” Vitruvius said as he walked in the door.
“Nice of you to join us,” Flaccus said dryly. “Now, as you can see, these things are not that difficult to construct. There will be a tremendous amount of supplies needed to construct a thousand of them. We have ample timber available; it will be just a matter of collecting enough to start construction. In addition, in order to protect our building site, a wall will be constructed on either side of the fortress leading to the river. Yes, this will mean extra work details along with extra sentry duty. Right now, the Eighth and Ninth Cohorts have been tasked with building the walls while we start work on our barges. You can bet that once we get finished with our boats, we’ll be the ones guarding the outer walls while they finish theirs.”
The afternoon was spent foraging lumber from the nearby forests. There would be a shortage of trees in the area for years to come. At least the first crews would get to the nearest trees and not have to haul them as far. In spite of the cold, Artorius felt good, the exertion from swinging the axe and felling trees keeping him warm. Once each tree was cut down, they stripped it of its branches and bark, tied towing ropes to it, and dragged it back to the construction site by the river. Soldiers from other cohorts were providing security and building the rampart extensions. Positions were laid out along the river with mooring locations marked for every cohort’s barges. Since it would be impossible to have every single barge moored along the river, each cohort built theirs leading back towards the fortress. When time came to launch, each crew would have to drag their barge to the river. Artorius and his section found the site allocated for their barge.
That night Artorius sat at a small table in the main hall. He had an oil lamp and some parchment. On it, he wrote:
My Dearest Father,
It has been a while since I was last able to write to you. I am doing fine. The only thing that troubles me is that you did not tell me Camilla had married. To be honest, I’m not surprised. Though I will always have fond memories of her, she was and still is little more than a girl. She saw the need rather than the desire to marry, and in her mind I was not worth waiting for. I have decided not to write back to her. Congratulate her for me, if you would, then allow me to become nothing more than a memory to her.
We are established in winter quarters, preparing for the spring campaign. We keep hearing this will be the last campaign of this war, that by whatever means necessary it will end with this. Currently we are building a large fleet of boats and barges that will take us deep into enemy territory. I look forward to ending this conflict. The barbarians paid a heavy price during our last campaign; hopefully, this next one will finish things.
I am proud of the men I am serving with. Magnus, the legionary I told you that I came up through recruit training with, has been as good a friend as any could expect. He is strong and a good fighter. Sergeant Statorius is a competent section leader, and I am glad to be working with him. Centurion Macro is still a bit of a mystery. I do know he is a survivor of the Teutoburger disaster. Given my position, I rarely have direct contact with him. One individual that I have had a lot of contact with is Sergeant Vitruvius, Chief Weapons Instructor. I have been sparring with him weekly, and he has taught me a lot, including how to take a good thrashing! He says I have potential, and Sergeant Statorius has even said that I have already demonstrated more skill in close combat than many in the legion.
During our last campaign, we journeyed into Teutoburger Wald. I curse that bastard Varus for leading his men into that gods’ forsaken place! It was an absolute nightmare just trying to get to the place of their final battle. I met Centurion Pilus Prior Calvinus. You may recognize his name. He was Metellus’ centurion. He told me the story of how Metellus died, that he died fighting like a Roman! You would have been proud of him, Father. He saved the lives of several of his companions before he was killed. Calvinus took me to the spot where they made their last stand. Though there was little left of the bodies, just a few bones and skulls, I found what I am certain are the remains of Metellus. The identifying wounds, the location of the bones, all matched Calvinus’ story. The greatest honor I have had is that I was able to lay my brother to rest.
I hope you are doing well, and please give Juliana my best.
With deepest affection, your son,
Titus Artorius Justus
Legionary, XX Legion Valeria
He finished writing, rolled the parchment up, and placed it into the bin where Camillus took care of all dispatches and mail, and stepped outside. It was a cold and cloudless night. He walked just out from underneath the overhang and looked up at the stars. He wondered if perhaps his father were doing the same at that moment. He wondered how he was doing. Had he finally taken the next step with Juliana? He smiled at the thought. Juliana had done more to help his father than he realized. Had they not had each other, perhaps both would have followed their families to the afterlife.
Artorius gave a deep sigh. With the army in winter quarters, there was not as much to occupy their time with, outside of the usual training and now the building of the coastal barges. His interests lay not in gambling, unlike so many of his brethren, and he often found his mind wandering. He truly missed home, his father, Juliana, all his friends who had not joined the legions, and the young girls whom he used to woo with his feats of strength and intellect. He then started to miss Camilla as well, but quickly dismissed the notion. What he did miss, though, was the climate! Winter in Germania was miserable to say the least. He knew that a decisive victory over Arminius and an end to the war would almost certainly mean a triumph in Rome. That would give him the opportunity to see his father again. He also longed to see the old city once more. Though his home in Ostia was very close to Rome, they rarely ventured there. He was just a boy the last time his father had taken him to the capital, the heart of the Empire. A cold wind brought him back to the harsh reality of where he was. He was not in Rome, he had elected to leave home and join the army, and his focus needed to be on surviving the next season’s campaign. Triumphs would wait until another day.