A Barbarian in Rome's Legions by Mark Richards

Author:Mark Richards [Richards, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: xxx
Published: 2018-08-12T16:00:00+00:00

PART II

Chapter IX

The Legions

Forty raw recruits stood in attention facing Centurion Fulvius, the designated training officer and the one who had sparred with Alderic—or rather, Artorus—upon his recruitment. They were assembled outside the camp walls of the Fifteenth Legion. In the background, the mud parapets of the legionary fortress towered above the open plain. A cold autumn wind swirled around, freezing the lightly dressed legionnaires-in-training to the bone.

The centurion paced back and forth, rhythmically tapping his vitis —the wooden staff carried by all centurions, symbolizing their authority—against his right thigh. His optio, the second in command of the training century, Rufus, lurked to the side. In the legions, the smallest tactical unit was the century, usually of eighty men, commanded by a centurion. The officer immediately below him was the optio, who was expected to take command in the event the centurion was disabled or killed. Both Roman officers directed their steely gaze at the recruits, searching for any possible infraction. Fulvius spoke. “Listen to me, for I’m not going to repeat myself. We were hoping for more men to compensate for our casualties from the campaign last year against Antonius’s forces, but the forty of you will have to do. When you have satisfactorily completed your training, you’ll be assigned to one of the six centuries of the second cohort commanded by Centurion Gracchus.”

He continued after a brief pause. “There are three things we’re going to train you to do.” For effect, he held up three fingers. “Only three you might ask? Yes. Only three. That’s all. First, you’ll learn to march. I’m not talking about that fancy parade ground stuff. We’ll do that too, but that’s easy shit. I’m talking about forced marches of twenty miles with full armor, weapons, and assorted gear. You see, in the legions, we carry everything on our backs, except the large tents you’ll sleep in. The mules carry those. But believe me, the mules have it easier. If you can’t march the twenty miles with full gear as all the other men in the legion, then you are of no use to us. And let me give you a clue—it’s not easy. It’s an ass breaker. At least you’ll not have to do it in the heat; it’s easier in the cold. So, consider yourselves fortunate that we’re training at this time of the year.”

The centurion paused to let his words sink in. He held up two fingers. “The second thing you’ll learn to do is dig. Every time we break camp and march, we build a new camp; a fortified camp with earth walls and ditches. You will be responsible for building this camp. Again, it may sound easy, but it’s not. It’s tedious, hard, grueling work. At the end of your training, you’ll have blisters upon your blisters. Do you think I adequately described the rigors of the digging, Optio Rufus?”

The figure smirked. “I believe you characterized it perfectly.”

Fulvius grinned. “Good. Last, you will be trained to fight. You will

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