by R. W. Peake
Cyclops would wait until we were the most absorbed in what we were doing, then roar, “Porta arma, porta arma!” requiring us each to grab our scutum and run to an imaginary muster field and fall in, side by side.
I can only imagine how ridiculous we looked, wearing oversized loricae and galeae, each carrying a scutum more than half his size. I say “we” to be kind; because I was of adult size, it was really Vibius who provided the more comical sight, but we shared everything, so I was perfectly willing to accept that I looked as silly as he did. We still had no weapons at this point, so, at best, we looked like raw tirones in their first month and not true Legionaries. We got so that we could stop whatever we were doing and fall in with enough speed that Cyclops could find no fault with us, and he finally grunted that we were not the worst he had seen, causing our spirits to soar to the heavens.
* * * *
It was about this time that Valeria and I had a conversation. She had been watching my comings and goings with quiet amusement, having long since grown accustomed to my games and fantasies of glory. But I was approaching the age when enlisting in the Legions was not that far off, and I think when she saw how quickly I was taking to the work of being a soldier that it scared her. Although I did not yet know it, starting with the formation of the 10th Legion by the Praetor of the province, enlistments were going to be raised from twelve to a minimum of sixteen years, and Rome was in a period of almost constant warfare, as she has been most of my life. Valeria was just like any female; while she knew that men thirsted for glory, she could never understand why. For Valeria, the idea of getting married and raising a family meant that her husband should be there by her side, and it worried her that all men felt the way I did about going to war. And as much as I loved Valeria, and still do to this day, I knew that she was jealous of Livia’s happiness, so that every day that went by that saw Lucius refuse yet another suitor for her, she saw her chance for happiness dwindling day by day. She was now close to eighteen years old, well past time to marry, and she was very beautiful. This is not just a brother’s blind love; I knew she was beautiful because every time I was in town, I was constantly being approached by young and old men, begging for an introduction to her, and they would wax poetically about how she was as Aphrodite in their eyes. Frankly, it made me a little nauseous; she was my sister and I loved her, but they had never seen her in the mornings, a fact which I gleefully relayed to them until she found out about it and hit me with a piece of firewood.
That day, as I remember it, we were sitting at our table; Lucius had gone to the village on some business, and Phocas had gone with him. Gaia was working in the kitchen, preparing the meal. Valeria sat there for a moment, staring at me with her gray-blue eyes, which were flecked with little pieces of gold, and I imagined that this must have been what my mother looked like. I seldom thought such things, because it made me feel very sad, but for some reason that day, it was comforting to think that there was part of my mother in that steady gaze, that maybe she was looking out at me through Valeria. The light played through the window by the kitchen, the curtains pulled back to let in the light, and I could see the motes of dust dancing in the ray of light. We sat facing each other on one of the two benches that we sat at for meals and, before she spoke, she used her hand to pull her hair out of her face, tucking it unconsciously behind her ear. For some reason, every time she did that, I loved my sister even more, and this time was no different.
She frowned as she thought, then asked me, “Titus, what do you want out of life?”
I was surprised by this, since we seldom talked about such things in my house, but I curbed my normal tendency to reply with some sort of teasing or lighthearted remark, as I could tell she was serious. Although I had never consciously thought about it, I surprised myself with how easily and quickly the answer came from my lips.
“I want to make a career in the Legions, and I want to elevate myself and my family to the equestrian order. I want to be famous throughout Rome as one of her finest Legionaries.”
If she was surprised, she did not show it, and I will always bless her for taking me seriously and not laughing outright. I would have been crushed if she had.
Nodding, she simply said, “Why?”
Now I was surprised, and I looked around at our house, then at her, as if that action would be enough to answer her.
But she waited, and I responded, “Because I don’t want to be anything like him.”
I didn’t have to say who “him” was; we both knew.
Again, she nodded. “Good. Well, know this. If there's ever anything I can do to help you reach your goal, I will do so. I swear by holy oath that I'll do that for you.”
Tears leapt to my eyes, completely unbidden. The way she had said it, with such quiet conviction and…vehemence, told me that she felt as acutely as I did the weight of my father’s contempt for me.
But she was not finished.
“Now,” she said, taking my hands in hers and leaning forward, “I'm going to ask something of you.”
“Anything,” I replied instantly, meaning it with all my heart.
“I know that you aren’t happy with the idea of me marrying and going away….”
Before she could continue, I started to protest. But she silenced me with a look, and I could feel the heat rise in my face because of the shame. She knew me too well.
“Titus, listen to me. I know that you’re not happy, and I know why. I know that you don’t want to be left alone with him, but have you ever stopped to think about when you leave? That I'll be the one alone?”
Now I was even more ashamed, because it had never even occurred to me. I was so focused on Valeria being there for me, to be the mother that I had never had, that I never stopped to think about what would happen when I left.
Gulping, I slowly nodded my head and said, “You're right, sister, and I beg your forgiveness. I didn't think of it like that.”
Smiling, she replied, “There's nothing to forgive, Titus. You're still a boy,” and hurriedly added when she saw my head come up, ready to speak angrily, “I mean in years, not in size or strength. Or courage.” This immediately mollified me; Valeria always knew what to say.
“What do you want me to do, sister? Name it and I'll do it.”
“I only want you to stop trying to chase suitors away.” She laughed. Turning serious, she added, “I have enough problems with that from him. I don’t want to have to worry about you as well.”
“I'll do that no more, I swear it,” I said, happy to do something that made Valeria happy also.
“I know I had but to say a word to you, Titus. You're truly the best brother any sister could have,” she said, and kissed me on the cheek, something I had started to rebel against as I grew older, but was happy to let happen on that occasion.
“And hear this, Titus. I know that you'll accomplish your dream. I'll make a sacrifice to Mars every day to make it so.”
I left the house, feeling ten feet tall and as if I could slay all of Carthage by myself.
That day marked a turning point in my attitude, and instead of trying to stop the men courting Valeria, I sang her praises to anyone I thought would make her a good husband. Before long, a man came to our farm that, for some reason, was different from the others, at least in Valeria’s eyes. He was somewhat older than Valeria, but had never married because he had served an enlistment in the army of Sertorius before coming back to take over his father’s farm, which was about twenty miles from our farm. His name was Gaius Porcinus, and only the gods know why Valeria found him more pleasing than any of the other men hanging around, but she looked like a moonstruck cow when she laid eyes on him for the first time. In my eyes, he was not much to look at, yet he was the spitting image of Apollo to her. As soon as I saw that, I made an effort to become friendly with Gaius, who stayed at his cousin’s house in town while the courtship took place. As I spent time with him, I realized that despite his bland exterior, there was something there behind it that ma
de me realize that somehow perhaps Valeria had seen it immediately. He was on the short side, but he was stocky, strongly muscled in the chest and shoulders, a sign of the hard life on a farm that had no slaves. Porcinus had a shock of dark hair that seemed to perpetually fall into his eyes that he would impatiently brush aside, and while his features were plain as far as I was concerned, I was not going to have to wake up to them every morning for the rest of my life. What I liked about him was that he did not seem to have any bitterness or malice in him, cheerfully accepting his lot in life, and not covetous of others. He also had a good sense of humor, with a sense of the absurd that I identified with immediately.
I began splitting time between training with Cyclops and with Porcinus and Valeria, acting as the chaperone. I did not really know why Lucius was so insistent on a proper courtship between Porcinus and Valeria, when he had allowed Cyclops to just come to the farm and take Livia away for the price of a mule, but I suspected it was because he was out of daughters, and he did not have a pressing need for another animal or implement. As I had come to learn, the trade for Livia involved the mule; her dowry was the portion of surplus grain that he had promised to Cyclops. Because Porcinus had come after the harvest and the sale of our grain, Lucius had nothing substantial to offer. I think he was hoping that allowing Porcinus to spend time with Valeria would cause him to fall so madly in love he was willing to forego the traditional payment made by the bride’s father. In this, Lucius proved to be right for one of the few times in his life. Porcinus had arrived to court Valeria around the Kalends of February; by the Ides of March, he had agreed to marry Valeria without any payment of a dowry, taking her as a love match. Once more, I found myself escorting a beloved sister to her future husband, with Porcinus going on ahead to prepare his farm for her arrival. The journey took almost two days, partially because of the distance, but more because despite her relief to be away from the clutches of Lucius, she knew that she was leaving me behind. I was of a similar mind; I was genuinely happy that she had escaped, yet I would be lying if I said that I was not apprehensive at being the only child of Lucius left, particularly the child that he blamed for the death of his wife. If Lucius had one redeeming quality, it was that he truly had loved my mother, and I would like to think that her death was the major cause of his cruelty to me, that he had been driven half-mad with grief. Perhaps that is the truth, or perhaps I am just grasping at straws; nobody wants to believe that their parent hates them without some external cause.
We camped for the night a distance from the road. Although I was carrying a gladius borrowed from Cyclops, and I was sure that I could protect my sister, there was no need to tempt fortune by not taking other precautions. I made a fire to heat our meal, then doused it to avoid drawing attention. There was a full moon, and as is normal for that part of the world, there were no clouds, so there was plenty of light for us to see each other as we talked. Of course, it was of a different quality than what we were accustomed to, and I thought Valeria looked particularly beautiful in the silvery light, her face looking as if it had been chiseled from the finest marble. I looked at her fondly, and as she looked back at me, the smile on her face gradually changed, until before I realized it, she had begun to sob. Thinking to comfort her, I moved to her to put my arm around her, but she shoved me roughly away, shaking her head and burying it in her arms. Confused, I sat there, and I’m not sure how much time passed before I could see her shoulders stop shuddering, her sobs becoming more of a whimper.
Not sure what to say, I tried, “I know you’re nervous, but there’s nothing to be worried about. Look how happy Livia is.”
“Livia’s lot has nothing to do with me,” Valeria snapped. I was shocked; she had never expressed anything but happiness about our sister’s marriage.
Not sure where this was coming from, I replied, “But I thought you were happy to marry Porcinus.”
She shook her head, refusing to look at me as she said, “I am. That’s not the problem. I’m just worried that he won’t be happy with me.”
I laughed. “Nonsense! Look at you! You're much more beautiful than he deserves! You…”
Before I could continue, she shouted, “Shut up, you stupid boy! You don’t have any idea what I’m talking about.”
Her referral to me as a boy was the one thing guaranteed to hurt me and, as usual, she hit her target unerringly. I could feel the heat rising to my face and I began to rise and storm off, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Please, Titus, I'm truly sorry. I'm not angry at you in any way. It was unforgivable for me to say that I know, but please forgive me anyway.”
Not willing to be mollified, I continued to rise and walk away.
I had gone no more than a pace or two when she said softly, “I'm not what you think I am, Titus.”
That stopped me short. Turning, I sat back down, looking at her and somehow knowing to keep my mouth shut.
I will not relate the total of the conversation, as it would bring shame to my sister, a woman who is completely undeserving of such a fate. But what I learned that night hardened my heart even more towards Lucius, and I think it was then that I first began to foster a terrible hatred for him, a hatred that made my earlier dislike for him pale in comparison. His poisonous touch had defiled everything that I loved most in the world, and that night I swore by Dis that I would somehow exact a revenge on the man who had sired me.
I delivered Valeria to Porcinus, going through the same ritual that I had performed with Livia. Valeria was just as nervous as Livia had been, but upon seeing Porcinus standing there and the look on Valeria’s face, I saw how much she had come to love him, just in the short time they had known each other. Porcinus turned out to be as good a husband as Cyclops was; in that, my sisters were extremely fortunate. Fortune favored Valeria as well, more so than Livia. She is alive and well even now, and has lived to see most of her children and so far, all of her grandchildren survive, even if they are very far away. Her oldest son will inherit all that I have to give, other than those portions I have set aside for my sister and slaves. I do so because it was not my fate that I pass them to my own son, or to my wife, as I have none, but that is a story for later.
* * * *
Once Cyclops had judged that Vibius and I were no longer a continuing menace to ourselves, and had learned to move about and operate with lorica and scutum, he introduced us to the training version of the gladius, called the rudis, made of wood and weighted with lead. I was surprised at its heaviness when I first picked it up, and Cyclops explained to us the purpose for it.
“Once you get used to handling the weight, when you use the real thing, it helps you perform your movements more quickly.”
It made sense to us, but that did not mean our arms ached any less. Cyclops erected a set of wooden stakes for us, which are standard training tools in the Legion. Demonstrating first, then having us repeat his actions, we began to learn the moves that would make us effective at killing our enemies. The gladius that we use is much shorter and shaped differently than those used by every tribe of Gauls that I fought, or any of the Eastern peoples, for that matter. Whereas their blades are longer and give them an extended reach, their points are pointed in name only. More rounded than ours, they rely on the length of the blade to cut. While it gives them more area to inflict damage, the problem for them is twofold; it requires more room to swing, forcing the gaps between each warrior to be wider than our Legions, but slashing someone to the point where they die takes quite a bit of doing. Since most of our internal organs are buried deeply within our bodies, it leaves that type of gladius fewer targets. The reality is that the throat and head are the only target that bring instant death, but that means the size of, the target is much smaller and harder to hit. With our blades however, which come to a needle point, the goal is to thrust it into the body of your opponent, where you are more likely to hit a vital organ. Besides that, there is the horror of having a blade sink deeply into the body that is more likely to
remove the thought of further combat from the mind of your enemy than a simple slash will. The superiority of our gladii have been proven against all enemies of Rome over the years, and yet, very few of our enemies have been smart enough to copy what we do. I believe that this is one of the reasons Rome prevails over all others. We will copy and adapt those tactics of our enemies that prove to be useful; our gladius is a case in point. Supposedly, it came from the Iberian tribes in the very area of my childhood, because when Rome first faced them, we suffered horrible casualties from the gladius Hispanensis, and it did not take long for Rome to copy it for their own use. Now, even in my old age, I still spend at least a third of a watch a day at the stakes, keeping up the skills that have served me so well.
However, in those days, as I first began my training, I cursed the rudis I was wielding with every stroke. My arms would soon be on fire as I thrust and cut, thrust and cut, over and over. Vibius was in worse shape than I was, but we were both grimly determined to continue; we had come this far in our training, and we were not about to give up. Besides, from our perspective, the use of the gladius was the most important skill a Legionary could have. As it would turn out, it was the second most important skill; the ability to carry a burden for long distances without collapsing is the most crucial, but we were to learn that. We had learned to be patient when it came to moving to the next phase of our training, as Cyclops would not budge in his decision until he thought we were ready, no matter how much we whined and begged. So we gritted our teeth and took out our frustration on those wooden stakes, bashing them over and over. I would finish each session completely exhausted despite my strength and endurance, so I can only imagine how Vibius did it, but he proved his mettle day in and day out, as determined, I think, not to show weakness in front of me as anything. He had experienced his growth spurt by then, so he was substantially taller, but still on the short side of average and much shorter than I was, despite the fact that he was a full year older.
