Except for one stubborn dumbass.
By the end of the second week, most of the legionnaires began looking at her with nothing but respect and friendliness, and offered her the same jibes, jokes, and taunts they would any other man in the camp. The third incident, however, happened at the beginning of the third week. Helena and I made our way to visit Gaius and Marcus when along the way, a nearby legionnaire offered Helena a wolf whistle. Without pausing, she thrust her palm upwards into the man’s nose, breaking it. The man got off the easiest of the three, and he proved to be the last who treated Helena like an object of interest. She was a legionnaire now, and while she still received jokes for being a female over the months, her sharp wit and evil eye always made sure she had the last laugh.
She slowly became a kind of mascot for the legion. The combination of her fighting prowess and physical beauty was very rare in the Roman world, and many legionnaires claimed she was Minerva personified in human form. Minerva was, amongst many things, the beautiful goddess of war and warriors, so the stretch didn’t seem that unbelievable, even to my modern eyes. As the weeks went on, the men quickly realized they would not get far lusting over her, but they fell in love with her all the same, bestowing her with the title Mater Legionis, Mother of the Legion.
They even crafted a special suit of legionary armor specifically for her. Tailored to fit her frame, impressive, since no measurements were taken, she’d slipped into a red linen skirt and wool shirt, and draped the tight fitting and battle ready lorica segmentata armor over her head, which was custom molded to fit her comfortably around her chest. She attached a standard legionnaire belt, a scarlet cape, and pulled on her likewise newly fashioned caligae.
Boots laced and legs flashing, Helena took a stroll through the camp.
This time, many wolf whistles were offered, but Helena laughed off each of them, knowing they were offered only in jest, and directed more towards the armor than herself. She happily thanked the trio of men who had taken the time to remold the armor to fit her feminine curves, and even offered the lead designer and forger a kiss on the cheek in gratitude. The designer rubbed his face, and had the long, lost look of a man who had just fallen in love. His fellow men playfully shoved him, unhappy they weren’t equally thanked, shaking him from his fantasy. Other men, who had observed the event, began offering swords, daggers, helmets, and other knickknacks. Helena joyfully ignored them.
As for the rest of us, fitting in was as simple as making sure we didn’t do anything too stupid. We spent the time gambling, recounting war stories, our own of particular interest to the legionnaires, and theirs to me, and training.
Training defined the Roman military, as did more training, and even more training after that. While the Roman’s benefited from our personal defense lessons, they didn’t spend the rest of their days lounging either, and neither did we. We learned enough to hold our own in combat, but we’d never cut it as front line soldiers in the legions. After two months of hard training, other duties took us elsewhere. We spent much of that time analyzing our strategy for the upcoming campaign to retake Rome.
Normal legionnaire training took around six months, and every day of it started off with a run. Afterwards came sword training, where centurions taught us the ins and outs of Roman swordsmanship. Romans fought with the tip of their swords, always stabbing, and never slashing. A legion fought like a machine, blocking and stabbing in a seemingly choreographed sequence. It wasn’t flashy or destined for accuracy in Hollywood, but it was effective, as many defeated barbarians could attest to. I knew the basics, and understood why they were so effective, but the others did not. One time, when Santino tried to slash down at his training partner with his wooden training sword, a centurion smacked him with his olive branch, just as he would have with any of his other trainees. Santino had not been happy, but had learned his lesson.
We also learned the fine art of spear casting, and even though I had no intention of trading in my rifle for a pilum, I figured it was still a good skill to learn. More intense training came in swordplay, how to hide behind our shields and rely on the person next to us for additional protection, as well as how to snap quick attacks with as little risk as possible. Legions fought as units, and any individual heroics were frowned up. Their strength relied on their discipline, maneuverability, and coordination, philosophies drilled into us harder than pretty much anything I’ve ever experienced before.
The modern military could take a page out of the Roman army’s training playbook. As a result of the constant pace of physical and weapons drills, along with long distance runs, those of us who needed to shed a few pounds did so easily. Another thing we learned quickly was how to dig a mean ditch. Along with the digging came knowledge about Roman camp fortifications, how they were erected, and what we needed to do to contribute. If we had to move and build a new camp, the Roman’s made sure everybody could pitch in and lend a hand.
As for the rest of our wayward companions who had accompanied us the night we fled Rome, Caligula took to running a legion camp very efficiently, and Galba happily relinquished full control to his emperor. Fully recovered within a week, Caligula was seen walking amongst the troops, and training daily with the camp’s officers.
The surviving Praetorians from the bloody battle in his home were commended, and as a group, were elevated to a newly created position within the Praetorian rank. The one hundred and five survivors, including Quintilius, who was promoted to the rank primus pilus, formed a new sect known as the Praetorian Sacred Band. The name was a homage to the Sacred Band of Thebes, a personal body guard unit to Thespian kings that contained one hundred and fifty pairs of lovers. During one battle against the hoplites of Sparta, they defeated a foe which greatly outnumbered them, but were eventually slaughtered by Philip II of Macedon, whose victory removed the Greek city-states authority over the land.
Unlike their Greek counterpart, the Praetorians were not required to partake in homosexual activity and create sexual pairs, but the number of men was set permanently at three hundred.
Many of the survivors were promoted a rank or two, and they recruited the remaining men needed from the two Praetorian cohorts that had joined us in Caere, choosing only those they deemed feverously loyal. Once merged, the Sacred Band became Caligula’s flagship unit, and newly promoted Quintilius became the highest ranking centurion in the camp, even higher than Maximus Nisus, the legion’s own primus pilus. Despite Quintilius’ new position, Nisus took his promotion in stride, aware that Praetorians were rewarded with special privileges and honors. Quintilius took the promotion graciously and professionally, and even though I knew he was booming with pride and happiness, he never let on that he wasn’t doing anything but his duty.
My friends Gaius and Marcus were also promoted. Originally holding the rank of optio, a centurion’s second in command, they were not only promoted to the centurion ranks, but also accelerated to the rank of pilus prior, or “superior file,” the second highest ranking centurion in a legion.
A Roman legion was simplistic in design, but could become frustratingly confusing when it came to the specifics of the chain of command, and the finer details of its construction. A legion, comprised of around six thousand men, was broken down into ten cohorts, containing slightly less than six hundred men each, which were broken down into centuries. Six thousand was a rounded up number, most legions containing only slightly more than fifty two hundred front line soldiers, but when combined with officers, administrators, and other staff, the number was closer to six.