Marching With Caesar-Birth of the 10th Legion

by R. W. Peake

Cyclops was seated at the table, working on a piece of tack when I knocked on his open door. As he looked up, I noticed that his right hand dropped to the handle of a gladius, sheathed but lying on the bench next to him. He stared at me for a second, his good eye narrowing as he tried to place who I was, then he realized that I was the son of Lucius. He also realized why I was here, and his look changed to one that I was unable to identify at that tender age, but looking back now, I realize it was that look that expresses both anticipation and a little unease. It never occurred to me that a man such as Cyclops would be nervous about anything, much less meeting my sister for the first time, but now I understand. For men like Cyclops and for the man I would become, the terrors of battle are nothing compared to the terror of facing a woman who you are going to spend your future with; the problems that the matter of marriage poses are much more difficult to solve than facing a problem in combat. In battle, the most direct way of solving a problem is to kill it and, although technically, one could do that to his wife as long as he had just cause, I do not think any man enters the state of matrimony thinking that he will have to avail himself of that choice at some point. Looking back, I am sure that this was what was running through Cyclops’ mind, but all I could see was some sort of hesitation that I did not understand, and frankly, with which I was growing impatient. If this was how he froze up when meeting a girl, especially my sister, it was hard for me to imagine him being the great warrior that we had been told so much about.

  When he did not speak, I finally cleared my throat and announced, in as grown up a voice as I could manage, “Salve, Cyc…er, I mean, Quintus Ausonius,” repeating the lines that had been drilled into me by Lucius. “I am Titus Pullus, come to bring you my sister for marriage, in accordance with the agreement struck by you and my father, Lucius Pullus. My sister has reached the time of her…” I must confess that I had to suppress a very unworthy giggle at this point. “…womanhood, and is therefore now ready to be your wife.”

  Turning back to the outside, where Livia was standing, shaking like a leaf in a gale, with Vibius beside her, wide-eyed and looking everywhere around him, I motioned her to step inside. For a moment, she hesitated and appeared as if she was ready to bolt, but a look passed between us and, in that look, we communicated perfectly. This was her only chance to avoid the horrible fate of carrying her father’s child, and bringing eternal shame to our entire family line, all the way back to our ancestors. Standing erect and pulling her shoulders back, Livia stepped through the doorway with the confidence of a queen, and I was prouder than I had ever been that she was my sister.

  She entered the house, then went to her knees with her head bowed, saying quietly but strongly, “Salve, Quintus Ausonius. I am Livia, daughter of Lucius Pullus and,” what she said next surprised me because it was not part of the ritual, “sister to my beloved brother, Titus Pullus. I am here to be your wife.”

  At the mention of my name, my vision started to blur, and I felt a quite unaccustomed lump in my throat. I could not remember crying for no reason before this, and I felt shamefully weak. I bit my lip to stop it from quivering and forced myself to look directly at Cyclops, challenging him to mock me, despite my age. But he had no eyes for me; he was looking down at Livia, as at the same instant he stepped forward, holding out his hands to take hers in them. I was struck by how much larger his hands were than hers, and how much darker and weather-beaten.

  In a surprisingly soft and gentle voice, Cyclops responded, “Salve, Livia, daughter of Lucius. Welcome to my home, my hearth, and to my life. I will always treat you with the honor and respect you deserve, and together we will build a life, with many children and much happiness.”

  Livia looked up then, in surprise, and I watched a flush start from her neck, going all the way to the roots of her hair. Keeping her hands in his, she rose and stood facing him as they gazed at each other, and now I was getting uncomfortable. I might have been only eleven, but I knew what that look meant, and I think what shocked me more than seeing it on Cyclops was the fact that Livia shared that same look. They had completely forgotten I was there. Finally, I cleared my throat, pulling them from their inspection of each other. Startled, they both looked at me and gave a little laugh, which then caused them to laugh even more, once they realized that they had shared the same reaction.

  “I must leave now,” I stammered. “I will tell Luc….Father that you have arrived unharmed.” I turned to leave, then remembered the last line I was supposed to utter. “May the gods smile on this house and this marriage,” I mumbled, then turned heel and left.

  Vibius was standing just outside the door, straining to see what was happening, and I ran right into him, bowling him head over heels in the dust, and staggering me so that I fell against the doorjamb. Mortally embarrassed, I grabbed Vibius off the ground and gave him a great kick in his rear, which sent him tumbling yet again. He howled in protest, but seeing the look in my eye, scrambled to his feet and ran headlong towards the road, with me in hot pursuit.

  We ran for maybe a mile, long enough for the anger to leave me so that when I caught up with him, I was laughing at the memory of his panic-stricken face, looking over his shoulder as I chased him. Hearing me laugh, he slowed down and looked back, scowling suspiciously, suspecting some trick on my part. I had my hands on my knees and was panting for breath, and laughing at the same time.

  I pointed at him and howled, “You should have seen your face! You would have thought Cerberus was after you!”

  Still scowling, but having stopped running, Vibius shot back, “It may as well have been Cerberus, when you get like that. I was sure you were going to kill me!”

  I continued to laugh, but pulled myself upright, and walked towards Vibius. Immediately, his eyes narrowed, and he began to move away from me, ready to break out in a run.

  Putting my hands out towards him, I cried, “Pax, Vibius, pax! I’m not mad anymore. I promise.”

  Still unconvinced, he said, “You promise?”

  I nodded. “I promise.”

  “Swear on Jupiter’s Stone that you’re not mad.”

  “Bona Dea,” I said in exasperation. Then, seeing he was not budging, I raised my right hand in the air, and said, “I swear on Jupiter’s Stone I'm not mad, and I won't try to hurt you in any way.” Dropping my hand, I asked, “There. Satisfied?”

  Nodding, he waited for me to catch up. Before we had gone much farther, we were both laughing hysterically again.

  My sister’s marriage to Cyclops gave Vibius and me the perfect excuse to spend time at his farm. What we learned was that Cyclops was not surly; he was in fact rather shy, made more so because of his disfigurement. Once he got used to our constant company, and resigned himself to the fact that we were not going anywhere, he began talking to us; not as boys, but as men. It made us enormously proud that he would deign to speak to us in such a manner, never realizing that we were the only friends he had. At least, the only ones still alive. Livia blossomed almost immediately, and it was clear for all to see how happy she was. There was a double bonus to us because her happiness was the direct cause of Lucius’ discontent; I think, in his heart of hearts, he was hoping that she would come running home. Instead, it gave me a much-welcomed sanctuary from my father’s coldness and hostility, and it became a second home for me. I do not believe at first that Cyclops was too thrilled about it, but I think Vibius and I grew on him, and slowly he began to open up with us. He was extremely reluctant to talk about his experiences in the Legions, which he had served in before fighting for Sertorius, and would never discuss it in front of Livia, but there is nothing quite as persistent as a boy with glory on his mind so that slowly but surely, he began to share more and more with us.

  The next couple of years passed in this manner; I spent as little time around Lucius as I could, which suited him fine, as long as I got my daily chores done. I would wake up before dawn, go through my morning chores, then well before midday, I would be at Cyclops’ farm, helping him as well. For some
reason, I did not begrudge the fact that he put me to work, doing so willingly, as did Vibius, who was in much the same position I was in. As long as he did the minimum his father expected, there were plenty of other, stronger sons to help with the work of tanning. I would meet Vibius next to the forum almost every day and, once a week, we would buy a meat pie or some treat from money that we had “found.” I was growing rapidly, and was in the stage where my clothes and, more importantly, my shoes never fit, so I tended to go barefoot everywhere. One day in particular I remember, because Vibius and I had decided that the time for talk had passed; it was time for Cyclops to start showing us what a Legionary needed to know in order to survive in battle. Vibius had turned fourteen the month before, and I was another month away from turning thirteen, but already I was taller than a lot of adults, and if truth be known, I was stronger as well. What I lacked at this point was coordination; I was just as likely to trip over my own feet as over any obstacle, and I was desperately embarrassed by my clumsiness. I was hoping that Cyclops would be able to give me some exercises that would help make me more coordinated and graceful, enabling me to move without being a danger to myself. Vibius hoped for lessons as well, but for different reasons. He had grown tired of living under my shadow, relying on me for protection. Nobody had touched him in years, but that did not stop them from mocking him for needing my help to keep the other boys of the village at bay. While he was filling out, he was still painfully short, and he was afraid that unless he grew more, he would be considered too small for the Legions. If that happened, we would both be crushed, but with the typical naïve optimism of youth, we had decided that with the help of Cyclops, we would be sufficiently trained so that if the moment came where the conquisitores turned him down, he would be able to show them such prowess that somehow the rules would be bent for us. As I said, we were very naïve, but as it turned out, that very summer, Vibius grew several inches, making it over the minimum height by more than an inch.

  When we arrived at Cyclops’ that fateful day, we found him currying the mules. We had gotten into such a routine that, without a word, Vibius and I would begin pitching in, knowing what needed to be done without being asked.

  We would usually pass the first little while in this way, in silence, waiting for Cyclops to heave a sigh and ask with mock weariness, “All right, what do you want to know today?”

  We had decided that Vibius would make the request when the moment came, because it was usually me who did the talking for us, and we thought that by changing this routine, it would be clear to Cyclops how much this meant to both of us.

  He did seem surprised when Vibius spoke, and I could hear the slight tremor in my friend's voice as he said, “Cyclops, Titus and I have decided that we're old enough and ready for you to actually show us things we need to know for when we join the Legions.”

  If Cyclops was surprised, he did not show it. I imagine he had probably been expecting such a request, because without a word, he turned and left the shed, leaving Vibius and me puzzled, although, by this time, we had become used to some of his odd ways. We were not sure whether to follow or wait, so we decided to stay in the shed.

  After a few moments, Cyclops poked his head in and asked irritably, “Well? Are you going to stay in there or come out? We're wasting time.”

  We came barreling out of the shed to find Cyclops, standing in front of a pile of armor. The gear had obviously seen action, but it was still oiled and well cared for. We stood dumbly, staring at it, not sure what we were supposed to do, but I know we both had idiot grins on our face at the sight of the stuff on the ground. Motioning to us to come to him, Cyclops reached down and picked up a vest made of chain mail, known as the lorica hamata, the piece of equipment we wear to protect our bodies, which is just now being phased out for the lorica segmentata, or segmented armor, and motioned me to come closer. I approached, and he had me lift my arms, then dropped the mail shirt onto my shoulders. I almost fell down from the weight; it felt like it weighed as much as I did, but it was really only about twenty-two pounds. I grimaced and straightened up, not wanting to show how much of a strain it was, and stood there, hoping that the trembling I felt in my legs was not visible. It was Vibius’ turn, as Cyclops held out another shirt, this one much shabbier and harder used than the one I had been given. There were several links missing where wire had been used to keep things together, and it was a little longer than mine, which led me to believe that this was not Roman. Cyclops did the same thing to Vibius, dropping it onto his shoulders, but poor Vibius collapsed into a heap immediately, and lay there, unable to get up. I could not help laughing, but one look from Cyclops’ good eye shut me up immediately.

  Cyclops nudged Vibius with a toe and said quietly, “Quit your squawking. Stand up.”

  “I can’t,” gasped Vibius as he struggled to get his feet under him.

  “I said, stand up,” repeated Cyclops, just as quietly, but with a new undertone in his voice that made me begin to feel apprehensive.

  “I’m trying, but I can’t get my feet…” Vibius never finished the sentence.

  With amazing speed, Cyclops launched a kick at Vibius that hit him square in the chest, knocking him flat. I gasped and moved to help Vibius, and before I knew it, I was flying through the air from another kick, landing a few feet away, the wind knocked out of me. Cyclops aimed another kick at Vibius, catching him in the side, causing Vibius to let out a moan of pain. However, when Cyclops took a step to launch another kick, somehow Vibius found the strength to roll quickly out of the way, then to climb almost as quickly to his feet. Meanwhile, I had regained my feet as well, and we both stood there unsteadily, glaring at Cyclops, who looked placidly at us, a half-smile on his face.

  “Why in Hades did you do that?” I demanded, also ready to bolt if my question was not well received.

  “You said you wanted to learn to be in the Legions,” Cyclops responded calmly. “And that’s what it will be like.”

  So began our tutelage with Cyclops. Before we ever picked up a weapon, we had to learn to move around in our loricae, no matter what tasks we were assigned to do. We started just wearing the hamata and doing the normal things we helped Cyclops with. The first couple of weeks, Vibius and I would trudge home, swearing as we left that we had suffered enough, then talking ourselves into returning by the next day. Every day I left my farm and went into the village, I half-expected Vibius not to show up; as hard as it was on me, it was even harder on poor Vibius. But every morning, he was there, more out of the fear of being shamed in front of me, his best friend, than anything else. And if truth be known, it was exactly the same reason that kept me walking down that road every day. That and the secret knowledge that every day, as I got stronger, it made Lucius fear me more and more. I was now taller than he was, and broader in the shoulders, although I had just turned but thirteen years of age. It was only because I knew that anything I did to Lucius would cause him to exact retribution on Valeria, Phocas, and Gaia that kept me from striking him down when he made one of his sour, bitter comments to me. I swore that I would have my vengeance for all the insults, but that I would bide my time until I could do so without worrying about those I loved. I think Lucius knew that as well, and was just as unwilling to force a reckoning as I was, for different reasons.

  Slowly, Vibius and I became accustomed to the extra weight and how it changed our sense of balance. As soon as Cyclops saw that we had gotten somewhat acclimated, he produced two galeae and plopped them on our heads. It may not seem like much, but the extra weight of the helmet, in some ways, was harder to deal with than the lorica. With the mail, it was spread over a wider area of the body, so that although it weighed more, it was more evenly distributed, especially once he allowed us to start wearing the baltea, the Legionary's belt that allows the mail to ride better on your hips. With the helmet, it was all resting on our necks, and it was not long on that first day before they felt the strain. Also, the galeae were large and we had not felt caps underneath the galeae;
Livia ended up making us each a cap, but that took a few days. In the meantime, the accursed thing kept sliding all around, particularly if we had to execute a sudden or violent movement. I think that was the most I ever saw Cyclops laugh, when he would suddenly bark out a command that forced us to turn in another direction, or jump one way or another, causing our bodies to face one way, while the galeae would sit stock still, facing in the original direction. Vibius and I would stand there, peering out around the dangling cheekguard of the helmet, seething with embarrassment, while Cyclops would howl with laughter.

  However, we learned quickly not to reach up and correct the position of our helmet, because even while still laughing, Cyclops would suddenly bash us on top of the helmet and roar, “Nobody told you to correct yourself!”

  The first week we wore the galeae, we both had headaches by the end of the day, both from the strain of wearing them and from the bashing that Cyclops would give us for some offense, real or imagined.

  Despite this, Vibius and I continued trudging back and forth, alternately hating and loving what we were going through. Because despite the pain involved, we could both tell that we were getting stronger, and we were making progress. We fancied ourselves almost as good as in the Legions already, and we would excitedly talk about the possibility of another insurrection occurring, one in which Rome was so desperate that they sent out a call for volunteers. In our fevered imaginations, the Praetor would be in such peril that he could not afford to turn anyone away, even a couple of raw youths like ourselves. We would gloat at the idea of the surprise of our fellow Legionaries and all of Rome when Vibius and Titus stood in the first line of battle, and acquitted themselves as well as any full-grown soldier of Rome! We would argue back and forth as to who would make the first kill of an enemy, and how many we would slay, arriving at Cyclops in such a frenzy of patriotism and zeal that we could not wait to start the next phase of our training. Finally, one day, Cyclops was happy to oblige, depositing a scutum for each of us, emblazoned with the symbol of Sertorius’ army. These were Spanish scuta, being flat instead of the curved shape that we would carry in the Legions, but it was made of thicker wood as a result, and was a bit heavier than the Roman version. Again, we started using muscles in ways that they were not accustomed to working, as we tried to carry the scuta everywhere, only putting them down to perform tasks that required two hands.