Legionary

by Hector Miller

  I told them that my father farms horses in the vicinity of Sirmium and that we had travelled a lot over the past years. Whether I would share more, only time would tell.

  Felix led me to an open bunk where I would sleep and I placed my few belongings underneath.

  I woke up early and volunteered to prepare some flatbread. I still had honey and olives in my pack and I shared the last of it with my new family.

  At sunrise I walked over to the quarters of the centurion to report as ordered.

  I greeted the secretary who waved me through without looking up.

  I stood to attention and saluted.

  “We will start this morning with a short march of six miles. Next up will be weapons training. The men in this cohort are all veteran fighters. The sword champion of the cohort is obviously also in the first century. I want you to improve the skill of the first century to a level where they are the best in the legion. Can you do that?”

  “Speak freely legionary!”

  “Centurion, there are some elements of fighting with the sword that I will be unable to teach. The grip I use took years to master and should I change their sword grip, they run the risk of dropping the sword in combat. Nonetheless, I believe that I could make them the best in the legion, although their technique will differ from mine.”

  “Good. I believe you.”

  Hostilius looked at me and said: “Would you be able to defeat two of the best swordsmen in the cohort simultaneously?”

  “Yes, Centurion.”

  “Good. We need to prove your skills to the men without any doubt.”

  “Dismissed.”

  I saluted and joined the rest of my tent party.

  The century marched in full legionary armour with sword and pilum.

  We did not return to the camp but reported to the training area.

  The century would consist of eighty legionaries under normal circumstances, but due to the losses of the recent campaign, only seventy one men came to attention in front of the posts and on his command, faced the centurion.

  “At ease, legionaries.”

  Hostilius was not one for long speeches and he said: “We are the best century in the legion, but we can still improve. I want you to be the best by far. I have found a way to do that.”

  He said: “Bassus, Fronto, get yourself two sparring swords of normal weight.”

  I could feel the excitement as the men anticipated the duel between the two best fighters in the cohort.

  Bassus and Fronto were facing each other when Hostilius said: “Domitius, get one of the same and join them.”

  I had been breathing for a while, to get my mind focused and to calm my nerves. I had the advantage of knowing what was coming.

  Bassus was a big, muscular man but Fronto was small and lithe. It would not be easy, I thought as I approach the duo.

  Hostilius faced them and said: “You two will fight Domitius simultaneously, do not hold back.”

  For a moment, they were stunned, but then Fronto said: “Whatever you say, Centurion.”

  They were standing side by side, with Hostilius between us. Three paces separated us.

  As Hostilius said “commence” I attacked immediately. I decided to take Fronto out first, he was the danger man, at least in my opinion.

  I attacked from the right, placing Fronto between me and Bassus.

  Although I preferred the thrust, I opened with a slash, from right to left, aimed at the stomach. Fronto parried. Just before our swords met, I altered the angle of the blade. His blade slid off mine, causing him to overextend his right arm. I moved in, pivoted on my left heel and hit him on the back of the helmet with the hilt of the sword. He collapsed, stunned.

  Brassus attacked immediately when he saw what had happened to his friend.

  He moved forward and aimed a mighty thrust at my chest. I anticipated the move and moved my body sideways, with my left side facing the attack. His sword scraped along my armour. As he withdrew, I did not disengage as he expected, but I moved in with his retreating sword, turning to face him, thrusting my sword with power and control into his stomach. As he doubled over, I hit him on the side of the head with the flat of the sword. He went down.

  It took only twenty heartbeats for me to deal with them. Even Hostilius’s mouth was slightly ajar in amazement.

  I walked over to Brassus and helped him get back on his feet, then I walked over to Fronto and did the same.

  Hostilius faced the century and said: “Who has an objection to Domitius being the new weapons trainer of the first century?”

  Silence.

  “Permission to speak freely”, he added.

  Predictably, no one had an objection.

  “Good. Domitius, you are now formally appointed as such. The clerk will enter it into the rolls.”

  Chapter 4 – First campaign (Jan 236 AD)

  When we had completed our training and other duties, we were dismissed to our quarters.

  Felix was the first to comment on the happenings of the day. “You said you travelled with your father. Did you go to live with the war god? I had never seen anything like that and I have been in the legions for twenty years.”

  “Yes Felix, something like that. I actually lived with people meaner than the war god.”

  Ursa added: “Boys, we are done fighting. Next time we just send Lucius on ahead and loot the corpses when we reach the enemy!”

  All the others, except Silentus, of course, had some wise crack to add. I felt that I had proved my worth and I was one step closer to gaining acceptance from my new family.

  In any event, we sat down next to our cooking fire and the conversation moved to politics, or rather what passed for politics around a legionary fire.

  My knowledge of politics had always surpassed my interest, but Nik was a patrician at heart and he kept me up to date.

  Ursa drank deeply from his beaker of sour wine and said: “I heard that the Yazyges have allied with free Dacians to create an alliance against Rome. They are amassing on the banks of the Danube across from Pannonia Inferior somewhere south of Aquincum.”

  Felix was sharpening his gladius with a whetstone and replied without looking up: “Sure thing Ursa, did the legate confide in you while you were enjoying a drink in his quarters?”

  Ursa scowled, but continued unperturbed: “No Felix, my source is far more trustworthy. A messenger arrived from Aquincum today, bound for Singidinum and the IV Flavia Felix, where the emperor is staying for the winter. The messenger just changed horses, but he had enough time to enjoy a beaker of heated wine with the guard on duty, who is a distant cousin of mine. Obviously he swore my cousin to secrecy, but Nelius immediately spilled the beans. I’m sure the legate doesn’t know yet, although he may be the only one in the legion who doesn’t.”

  Pumilio raised his eyebrows and added: “At least we have a soldier emperor nowadays. The best news I had in a long time was when they told me that pretty boy Alexander Severus’s throat had been cut. Good thing they took care of that bitch of a mother at the same time. I heard they got paid to do it. Should have come to me, ‘cause I would have done it for free.”

  “Severus wanted to give our money away to pay off the German barbarians. Cowardly bastard. Well, after they slit his throat, the Thracian took over and we paid them off in blood rather than gold. We chased them half way across Germania and slaughtered the bastards real good, didn’t we?”

  “Maximinus Thrax is a man you can follow.” He swallowed his wine and added: “Domitius, have you ever seen the new emperor in the flesh?” I shook my head and he continued: “He is a huge bloody bastard and strong as an ox. Taller than anyone I’ve ever seen. He can speak Thracian fluently and he doesn’t take shit.”

  Bellus added: “Pumilio, sounds like you are describing your mother.”

  Pumilio scowled and said: “Stuff off pretty boy, you were the only one who liked Severus.”

  Felix interrupted them: “Shut your trap Pumilio. The walls have ears. Remembe
r, they will crucify the whole contubernium if they hear talk like that!”

  Pumilio rolled his eyes and turned away to focus on getting the rust off his chain mail.

  I ate well, drank more than enough bad wine and laughed a lot. In short, I enjoyed the evening.

  We trained at weapons every day. I worked closely with Hostilius to improve the sword work of the century.

  I had watched the men while they were sparring and identified the main area of weakness. Footwork.

  Cai Lun, my teacher from the land of Serica, had made me perform countless repetitions of footwork combinations, simulating attack and defence. He had incorporated back and leg strengthening exercises into my routine. Most of the power of a sword strike comes from a combination of the back, hips and legs.

  I was relentless. For ten days I focused only on this, training side by side with the legionaries, invariably until one or two had to be encouraged by Hostillius’s vine cane.

  We were preparing the evening meal when Ursa tried to get up to pour himself more wine. He couldn’t. “Lucius, you truly are a mean bloody bastard. For the sake of the gods, I can’t even walk. How will I fight if I can’t bloody walk?”

  By the third week I had them spar against each other and I showed them how to use the newly acquired strength.

  I could see the realisation on some of their faces when they felt the power generated by the back and legs surge through their sword arms. Even Hostilius nodded in agreement.

  Pumilio said to me: “I can’t wait to test my new skills on our barbarian friends across the river.”

  He did not have to wait long. That same afternoon Hostilius came to us and said: “Start packing ladies, the emperor and the IV Flavia Felix are joining us in three days. Then we march to war.”

  The camp suddenly erupted into controlled chaos. Officers were issuing orders fast and thick and legionaries were scrambling everywhere carrying provisions, weapons or just messages.

  We did not have much to pack, but I made sure my weapons and armour were in good condition. Felix gave me very good advice. “Lucius, I am going into Sirmium on an errand for Hostilius. I could get you some stuff that would make the campaign bearable. I need money though, these things don’t come cheap.”

  I trusted Felix and I handed him the pouch with the joining bonus I received a few weeks earlier. He nodded and then he was off.

  That evening he sat next to me and placed a leather wrapped package on the ground between us.

  From the package he produced a thick woollen cloak waterproofed with lanolin, two pairs of thick woollen socks, fur leg wrappings and a small bag of wool. The wool puzzled me but he said: “Just make sure you take it with you. I will show you later.” He also handed me back some of my coins. “I know how to bargain!”

  Hostilius did his rounds later that evening and after telling us to stand at ease he sat down and said: “Assemble in full battle gear tomorrow morning on the parade ground. We will be addressed by the emperor.” He looked at Felix and said: “Felix, make bloody sure that all these buggers are looking pretty, heh.”

  “Sure thing Centurion, the boys will be all dressed up nicely and looking pretty.”

  Hostilius nodded, got up and left. When we were done polishing and cleaning all our gear, Felix inspected everything. He was thorough. He told me to put a bit more effort into the shine of my helmet and pointed out one or two other shortcomings with our kit.

  Waking up before sunrise, we helped each other to get into our gear and again Felix inspected us and adjusted straps here and there. He even drew our swords one by one and inspected it.

  We were hardly dressed when Hostilius arrived. We all stood to attention and he inspected us. He slapped Felix on the back, nodded and left.

  Less than a watch had passed and the whole legion was lined up on the parade ground. Nothing stirred, no one talked.

  We waited for a quarter of a watch for the emperor and his retinue to arrive.

  A wooden podium had been erected earlier to provide the emperor with an elevated platform so that he could be seen by all the legionaries.

  I must confess, I was surprised when he walked onto the stage. He was a head taller than the tallest of his bodyguards. He had a hard, scarred face with short cropped grey hair and his eyes wandered over the legionaries, scrutinizing them critically. The emperor was dressed as a soldier. He wore a white tunic under a magnificent set of lorica segmentata with gilded shoulder sections, obviously especially made for him due to his abnormal size. Although it was bitterly cold, a purple woollen cloak hung loosely over his broad shoulders.

  He was a soldier and no patrician and orator, so he bluntly said in a deep booming voice: “Men, the Empire is under attack from a barbarian alliance. The Legio IV Italica and Legio IV Flavia Felix will march to crush them under our heel. They have already attacked Pannonia Inferior so we march with haste.” All was quiet.

  He had the heart of a soldier. He added and smiled: “There will be rewards for bravery, there will be slaves taken and there will be loot for all. We leave tomorrow.” An almighty cheer resounded from the parade ground. Maximinus Thrax waited for the cheering to subside. He looked over the assembled legion with obvious pride, turned on his heel and left with his retinue.

  Chapter 5 – March

  Long before sunrise the first century of the third cohort was ready to march.

  Each of us had a t-shaped wooden bar on which we arranged our heavy packs. We would be constructing temporary camps so we had to include a wicker basket and spade as well as two wooden staves as our contribution towards the palisade. Our shields were protected by leather covers and carried on our backs. We all brought five days’ rations of wheat, a small flask of olive oil as well as a dish and a cup and last but not least two skins, one filled with water, the other with wine. As we were marching to war, we marched in full armour with all our weapons at hand.

  Each contubernium had its own pack mule which carried the tent, spare weapons, a cooking pot, a grain stone for milling wheat, additional water skins and a selection of tools and other essentials.

  The emperor rode at the head of the army, joined by his bodyguards and officers. Our legion led the way with the IV Flavia Felix following close behind. It was winter and we marched on the Roman road. As a result there was little dust, making it bearable for the men marching at the rear of the army.

  We were heading more or less north towards Aquincum where Legio II Adiutrix was stationed.

  Even though we were fit and we marched almost every day, marching on campaign is different.

  For one, the kit you carry along is always heavier. The extra cloak, the pair of warm socks, the little pot of honey, all add up. The bar of the yoke eats into your shoulder, through the chain mail and undergarment. Then the boots start rubbing you raw because they stretch and your feet move around. This is where Felix’s experience came in handy. On the second morning of the march he told me to take out my bag of wool. He showed me how to stuff my boots with the wool to stop my feet from rubbing raw. He also tied the remaining wool around the shaft of the marching yoke. It sounds insignificant, but it made a huge difference to my personal morale.

  We did not construct a marching camp for the first four days of the campaign. We were marching through Roman territory and the scouts have not had contact with the enemy. Many sentries were posted none the less.

  We marched together as a tent group and century. As Hostilius was the first centurion of the cohort he spent most of the march in the vicinity of the first century, but occasionally drifted down the line to ensure that all was well in the cohort.

  Hostilius had just finished one of these inspections of the cohort. He fell in at the head of our century once again when I noticed something untoward. I heard the faint whinny of a horse. I was trained by the Huns and my senses were sharp. I risked calling out and said: “Centurion, request permission to approach.”

  Hostilius immediately fell out of line and slowed down untill he was abreast o
f me. “Speak, Domitius.”

  “This better be good”, he added.

  “Sir, I noticed cavalry activity on the other side of that copse”, and I pointed in the direction where I had heard the sound.

  “Explain”, he said. I replied: “I heard the whinny of a horse, Centurion.”

  “Carry on marching, but take your shields off your backs and carry them in your hands”, he commanded down the line. “And pass the message on to the whole of the third cohort.”

  The centurions did not carry a yoke, only arms and armour. Hostilius trotted up to a mounted tribune nearby. He saluted and had a quick conversation with the tribune, who immediately trotted in the direction of the senior officers of the legion.

  Hostilius arrived back and fell in next to me, on the left hand side of the line. “Better not be your imagination legionary, I don’t like looking like a fool.”

  He was still speaking when I felt the slight vibrations associated with a heavy cavalry charge. “Heavy cavalry approaching, sir.”

  He looked me in the eye and said: “Are you sure?”

  “You will see them in ten heartbeats, sir.”

  Hostilius then did something that showed he had immense trust in my capabilities. Allow me to explain. A centurion, even a senior centurion, do not call a halt to the march of two legions, especially when the emperor is riding about two hundred paces away. Stopping the march for no reason at all could have serious consequences for him, including demotion to the ranks.

  “Column, halt. Ground packs. Face right. Prepare to repel heavy cavalry”, he yelled in his booming voice.

  The main strength of the Roman legionary is obeying orders without thinking or questioning.

  We were drilled to do this and within six heartbeats we had executed his orders perfectly. Just in time to see the heavy cavalry of the Yazyges burst from the covering shrubs seventy paces away. They were armed and armoured in the normal way of heavy Scythian cavalry. The riders and horses were both armoured to the teeth with chain and scale, with the rider carrying a heavy two handed spear fourteen feet long, called the kontos.