A Week in the Life of a Roman Centurion

by Gary M Burge

  “I hate this army and what they want from you. You will leave me and never return.” Livia could barely speak, her voice choking with rushes of anger and alarm. Tears flowed freely, and the stain of dark makeup scarred her tunic. She was no longer a woman employing her sexuality for sport. She was a woman filled with fear. Livia loved Appius both for who he was and for the security she had found in him. She knew the violence of the legion and its work. And she knew that if Appius died in battle, she would be a woman without a home, discharged from the broken household like useless pottery.

  The Decapolis Cities

  When the Roman general Pompey conquered the Middle East in the seventh century B.C., he emancipated numerous Greek cities in southern Syria that had labored under Jewish rule for over one hundred years. These cities provided mercenaries to Pompey as he moved on to conquer Judea and Jerusalem. In return, Pompey committed that they would no longer live under Jewish rule, despite the building of a Jewish province (named Judea). These “ten cities” (Decapolis from deca, ten, and polis, city) cultivated a life quite apart from that of Judea and looked to Rome for prosperity and protection. In the Gospels we learn about some of them. The Gerasene demoniac was from Gerasa, or modern Jerash, in Jordan.

  Today most of these cities are in modern Jordan, with the exception of Damascus (Syria), Hippos and Scythopolis (both in Israeli Galilee). The capital of Jordan, Amman, is the ancient Decapolis city of Philadelphia. Remains of temples, theaters, markets and prominent public buildings are rarely visited by travelers to Jordan and Syria today.

  The Romans occupied the entire eastern flank of the Mediterranean, and Parthia tested Rome’s defenses regularly. This explains the extreme fortification of Syria and Judea in the first century. Dura-Europos (Greek Doura Eurōpos) was one such outpost, perched on a two-hundred-foot hill overlooking the Euphrates, that served as an early warning for Rome. Parthians and Romans had each held it, and in times of peace it became a truly multicultural trading post. Inscriptions have been found in Greek, Latin, Aramaic, Hebrew, Syriac and Persian, among others. Today Dura-Europos is located near the Syrian village of Al-Salihiyah.

  Raphana was a Greek Decapolis city that may have been the same as ancient Abila (Abila Dekapoleos). If this is accurate it was located about eight miles northeast of the modern Jordanian city of Irbid. Since 1980 excavations have discovered Raphana’s theater, city walls and numerous temples. However, some scholars are uncertain that Raphana is ancient Abila and believe it has not yet been found.

  Tullus returned an hour later and made his way across the courtyard to see whether Appius’s provisions were in order for the morning’s departure. And there he saw them. Together, embracing each other more intimately than he’d ever imagined. And he knew that despite what he had seen in Livia, she was devoted to Appius more fully than she let on.

  The morning came quickly. This was to be Tullus’s first forced march, and Appius was up well before sunrise. Tullus joined him and helped strap him into his armor. Tullus himself had a uniform: a chainmail shirt over a white tunic. And he wore a belt with a short dagger that he had never used. There was no plan to place Tullus at the front lines. He was a scribe and recorder who was to be kept away from the fighting. His only assignment each day was to match Appius’s pace at a distance, and in the evenings never to leave his side.

  Four cavalry appeared at the villa, leading an enormous black horse armored in bronze. These men were Appius’s personal guard from the cohort, and they would be with him throughout the march. Before Appius mounted he turned to Tullus, who stood nearby.

  “As we march, stay with the baggage train. The medical wagons will be at the front. This is where I want you.” Appius was strapping on his feathered battle helmet.

  “But what if we are attacked? How shall I fight?” Tullus’s voice sounded plaintive; he was looking for his place in this enormous war-fighting engine.

  “You will not fight.” Appius was firm and he repeated the words for effect, “You will not fight with us. Stay in the wagon. Stay with the physicians. I will always come and find you if I know where you are. I will not forget you.” There was something in Appius’s expression that Tullus had not seen before. The stern centurion was showing another side of himself.

  “You belong to my familia. I will not lose you.” Tullus had never heard him speak like this before. But he now realized he belonged to something larger than he knew. Appius clearly did not see him only as a slave.

  When they arrived at the camp, the first cohort was mustered, the men fully arrayed, and every centurion from the legion—over fifty of them—was present to see them off. Cornicines, or horn blowers, sounded the call to movement. The cavalry pulled out in front, and Tullus saw a dozen men ride off quickly toward the horizon as scouts. They were the eyes of the cohort as it marched. Other horsemen swung wide and kept the flanks of the cohort protected. Auxiliary archers followed the main body, along with the mules and wagons. The most heavily armored century brought up the rear. Appius and his guard moved freely along the column. His was the visible strength the men needed to see. And he would know at every moment the condition and fatigue of his troops. Scouts wove their way back to the cohort at intervals, consulting with him, and the mappers were at the front with the leading centuries.

  Figure 2.1. A typical Roman military encampment

  Tullus was amazed at the legion’s speed. They could cover thirty-five miles in a day and then erect a defensive camp for the evening. In three days they were at Damascus. Five more days would bring them to Palmyra. Then they would strike out for the Euphrates River. Each day made Tullus more apprehensive. He had seen firsthand what happens when a legion attacks. He did not want to see it again. But with each day the legionnaires were more determined, more confident. Their boldness grew with every milestone. Curses on the Parthian “dogs” were commonplace.

  Appius had said many times that a legion in camp is a legion sick. It needed to fight. It needed to move. This cohort was being reborn with each passing day.

  On the tenth day the cohort reached the Euphrates River. They had rested at the oasis of Palmyra, that ancient jewel of the Syrian desert, had resupplied at its fort, and from there had moved for days through merciless desert led by the legionary mappers of Palmyra. The risk in this was enormous, faced now with the enemies of a fierce desert heat and scarce water.

  As they approached the Euphrates, the horses smelled the water first, and soon the entire cohort picked up its pace as they marched toward the huge river snaking its way through the Syrian desert. The trees and greenery hugging the river’s shoulders offered shade and a welcome relief. Cavalry horses and pack animals ate hungrily in the fields and drank deeply of the Euphrates, while legionnaires filled empty goat skins stacked in the baggage train. They built a camp, and after guards surveyed their perimeter and assured themselves that they were alone, Appius permitted fires to be built and two camels to be slain for a feast. Tullus watched the revelry in amazement. Hearty breads, roast camel and beer appeared in abundance. The men told stories of past exploits and were proud to be in this moment. They knew that in the morning they would march southeast toward Dura.

  Before sunrise the next day, scouts on horseback traveled south along the river’s edge to confirm their location and distance from Dura, while horn blowers directed the cohort to break camp and pack the animals and wagons. On a third blast of the horn, they fell into their formations. Refreshed and eager, the men were anxious to move. Some said the horses could smell Parthians just as easily as they smelled the river.

  Figure 2.2. Archeological remains of a Roman military camp at Masada

  Appius was in the front of the column when a dozen scouts rode back to him from the early morning patrol. They were nearer Dura than they thought. It was less than two hours’ march. The fort had been under siege throughout the night by light Parthian infantry. But it had held fast. The scouts described their approach with care and confirmed that they had not been seen. Appius knew he ha
d surprise on his side, and he would win the field that day.

  Armor that had not been worn for days now found its owner. All of the pack animals were moved to the rear, and the auxiliary archers moved forward where Appius could use them strategically. The cavalry armed their horses with bronze breastplates and leather eye shields. Their cavalry ranks were divided in two and ran wide of the column’s two flanks.

  Within an hour they crested some dry hills, from which they could see along the river’s southern edge the city of Dura-Europos with its prominent Roman fortress. Some seven hundred Parthian troops were positioned near it in camps, and to Roman eyes there were few horses and little organization. The enemy was unprepared for what came next.

  Figure 2.3. Remains of Dura-Europos overlooking the Euphrates River

  One wing of the cavalry ran straight for the fortress, and another wing circled to the deep southeast to cut off any Parthian retreat. Startled and overwhelmed by the size of the incoming Roman army, the Parthians fell into immediate disarray, some creating formations to meet the onslaught, others fleeing to the city where they might find cover. But they were exposed and completely unprotected from the tightly braced Roman centuries with their massive shields and spears. Tullus’s wagon moved slowly toward the city as he watched in amazement. It was astounding. The Romans advanced in ominous silence. As the Parthians moved forward, they met showers of arrows that flew over the heads of the advancing cohort. Many Parthians fell before they ever met the Romans. It was like watching a wave of red and bronze flow slowly across the desert: steady, invincible, confident. It was a walled phalanx of armor and deadly precision. Soon hundreds of Roman javelins were in the air, and when they hit the Parthian infantry, the Roman cohort raised shields and ran forward with screaming war cries. The Romans took no prisoners.

  Appius could see that his centurions were meeting little resistance and had no need of his direction. Centuries were moving swiftly across the plain, and the Parthians were in a full flight. The two wings of cavalry encircled the fighting, and one closed from the rear, then brutally met the Parthians as they fled.

  Appius directed the baggage train to move toward the fort as he sped ahead with a dozen riders. He could see within the city that the fort had thrown open its gates and legionnaires from Legion Fulminata were running out. They met the incoming Gallica troops and immediately set about pursuing the Parthians who had taken cover in the city.

  The medical wagons arrived, and Tullus dismounted gladly. His worst fears had not been realized. Their mission had been a success. Dura had been saved, and the reinforcements would eventually press the Parthians to retreat further to the east. The bottled tension that Tullus had held for hours now evaporated.

  Fulminata’s primus, Albus, embraced Appius in the main courtyard of the fort as more Gallica soldiers poured through the gates. Tullus followed closely and could see not only an old friendship but also the deep respect Albus and Appius had for each other. Both had risen to the highest ranks of their legions. Both had full and promising careers within the empire.

  The Euphrates River

  The Euphrates was one of the most important rivers in antiquity. It begins in eastern Anatolia (Turkey), flows south toward Syria, and then heads southeast in a curving arch that leads to Mesopotamia, about two thousand miles. Near its end it joins the Tigris River, and this floods a vast delta that pours into the Persian Gulf. Today it moves through Turkey, Syria and Iraq.

  The river served as a caravan corridor across the deserts and was the route used by Abraham as he traveled from Mesopotamia to Canaan. But it was also a highway for armies moving between Egypt and Mesopotamia, and in the Roman era it was the one route the Persians exploited to press west toward Rome.

  Figure 2.4. Temple of Bel at Palmyra

  Ordinarily travel would follow the river to the enormous market city of Aleppo, Syria. From here caravans could move southwest into central Syria, Antioch and Lebanon. The journey west could be shortened by leaving the Euphrates at modern Deir ez-Zor and moving due west to the oasis of Palmyra (Hebrew Tadmor; Arabic Tadmur). From here a caravan could move directly to Damascus. In our story Appius is eager to move north and arrive at Dura as quickly as possible. Therefore his mappers build a Damascus/Palmyra route and then go directly for the Euphrates.

  Tullus felt relieved. Appius was peeling off his heavy armor, and his personal guards were holding it as salutes and congratulations were in the air. Skirmishes were still under way around the city, and sounds of clashes could be heard. But they were quickly diminishing. All was well.

  Tullus decided to explore the fort to see how life was lived on the very fringe of the empire. From a rampart he wandered to a guard tower overlooking the Euphrates River winding into the distance. The Euphrates was unlike anything he had seen before: it was powerful and like a narrow, moving sea that snaked through the desert. Eventually it made its way to Babylon and places he’d only dreamed about. Below he could see how the city had built itself up against the fort’s strong walls. There were two-story buildings, their roofs used for sleeping, built so near the top of the rampart that he could imagine climbing down on them.

  From the tower Tullus found a staircase that led inside what appeared to be quarters for the lookouts manning the ramparts. The walls were lined with souvenirs from past Parthian conflicts: knives, swords and tunics, each bearing the distinctive patterns of Persian artistry. Arrows, piled in enormous mounds or stacked in boxes, were the chief tools of the guards who mounted the walls.

  Tullus thought he was alone. And when he heard steps, he assumed it was a Roman guard still holding his post. But he was wrong.

  The Parthian infantryman stared at him and stepped from the shadows. Tullus looked closely and could see the man was injured. His left arm hung limp and was bleeding profusely from the shoulder. The sleeve of his chainmail was sliced open, and blood clotted the metal rings and ran to his hand and off his fingers. In his right hand he held an enormous sword whose tip was resting on the stone floor. The Persian was breathing heavily and had no intention of letting Tullus leave and betray his whereabouts.

  Tullus tried to step away, but he felt paralyzed. His body simply would not move. His feet felt leaden, and he could not keep from staring at the Parthian, whose face formed the hardened look of a soldier direct from the battle field.

  Tullus heard the tip of the blade ring against stone as the Parthian hoisted it from the floor. He lifted the heavy sword slowly across his chest and swung it explosively at Tullus. The scribe heaved back and heard the air scream as the sword whipped past him and crashed into a stand of arrows on the wall. Wood splinters flew from dozens of arrows cut in half. This failure enraged the man, and he began to advance on Tullus, who now found his senses and dodged another blow. Tullus remembered his knife, but when he pulled it from its sheath, its size seemed ludicrous. The Parthian grinned and kept advancing as Tullus kept moving backward cautiously. It was cat and mouse as the wounded warrior tried to corner the scribe but found himself bogged down by the weight of his armor and severity of his injury.

  Then Tullus made a mistake he would never forget. Afraid to take his eyes off the Parthian, he could not see behind himself and fell, crashing into a wood table. The Parthian closed quickly and brought the sword straight down on him. Tullus dodged and slid under the upset table while the sword crashed and ripped through timber. With the protection of the table gone, Tullus knew this was the end.

  But at that moment Tullus heard his name called. At first it had been muted and distant, and then in the room. It was the one voice that ensured his safety.

  “Tullus! By the gods, where are you?” It was Appius. And Albus was with him.

  Tullus screamed from the floor, and the Parthian quickly turned. He could finish the boy or prepare to deal with the centurions. Deciding he had time to do both, he returned to the broken table and prepared to deliver a final, slashing blow.

  All Tullus heard was the swish of a Roman short-sword as it spun th
rough the air at a speed Tullus could not comprehend. It hit the Parthian squarely in the back, cutting through his chainmail and throwing him forward. He crashed into the table’s fragments, and his huge sword dropped near Tullus, now laying prone on the floor, paralyzed in fear. The Parthian’s shocked and deadened eyes stared at him, his blood flowing freely. Tullus realized that the man’s blood was spreading across the floor and beneath him. It was on Tullus’s hands, and this only increased the terror of the moment.

  “Tullus, are you harmed? Call out to me!” Appius ran quickly across the littered tower floor, stopped to check the Parthian, and then lifted Tullus from the debris. Parthian blood covered the boy’s tunic. Panic was in his eyes.

  Albus screamed when he saw the second Parthian in the shadows, and quickly Appius’s personal guards rushed into the room to give aid. Everyone froze. The Parthian was an archer. He had drawn an arrow onto his taut bow and was aiming it directly at Appius, who was embracing the boy and checking for wounds. Albus and the four legionnaires spread out and prepared to rush the man. Then Albus saw his worst nightmare.

  Appius was uncovered—his armor was gone—and only a linen tunic and a leather vest stood between him and the Parthian. Appius’s back was to the archer, and he glanced back only seconds before he heard the bowstring snap.

  The arrow flew expertly across the room, and, as if in slow motion, the Romans watched it hit Appius’s left shoulder and sink deeply.

  3

  From Dura-Europos

  to Raphana

  For days after the battle at Dura, Appius slipped in and out of consciousness. The battlefield physicians cut away the greater length of the arrow, but feared what would happen if they attempted to pull it out or push it through. The bleeding might be unstoppable. Soon a fever swept over Appius, and his breathing became labored. Sweat poured from his body. The physicians carefully washed the wound with vinegar and applied a poultice of herbs. The pungent smell of burning incense disinfected the air of malignant diseases and spirits hovering about. And they began to bleed the centurion, confident that cutting and draining blood would release the heat that was building in his body.