Soldier of Rome: The Legionary (The Artorian Chronicles) (14 page)

“How many of the
bastards were executed?” Gavius asked.

“I don’t recall,” Decimus answered, shaking his head. “What I do remember is seeing a couple of my friends, friends I had known since recruit training, being found guilty and cut to pieces by the mob. I felt
disgust and loathing towards myself for having been involved in the whole affair. Yet I directed it towards those I was convinced had been the cause of our plight. In reality, all of us were guilty.”

“What of the corrupt officers?” Artorius asked.

“Those fucking bastards were also put on trial. Since technically they had not committed a capital crime, Germanicus could not execute them. Too bad, I can only imagine the venom and wrath their bodies would have received from us.

“However, he did dismiss and throw out of the army all the officers who were convicted of abuse.
In order to accomplish this, the general revised the list of centurions. Each,
at his summons, stated his name, his rank, his birthplace, the number of
his campaigns, what brave deeds he had done in battle, his military rewards,
if any. If the tribunes and the legate commended his energy and good behavior,
he retained his rank; where they unanimously charged him with rapacity
or cruelty, he was dismissed from service.
2
Many of these centurions had more than enough years to retire, and now they had nothing. Served the bastards right. Of the fifty-nine centurions in the Twentieth, twenty-seven were convicted and dismissed. This included four of the cohort commanders. That shook things up amongst the ranks, and led to promotion opportunities for many of the options. Hence, there are now a number of younger centurions in the legion. That is how Macro was promoted. He was our optio and had fought for a long time against the practice of extorting money from soldiers.

“Anyway, we soon took to the field on a punitive expedition against some of the local tribes that had assisted Arminius. Several battles later, our spirits were revived and the scourge of mutiny was laid to rest. No one talks of it. It is something that we are not proud of, and we’d be glad if it were never mentioned back home.”

“That
was
an interesting story,” Gavius said. “More wine? You looked parched.”

“Yes, thank you,” Decimus said.

Just then they heard a loud voice shouting,
“come back here, you rat-bastard!”
They turned just in time to see Praxus, laughing uncontrollably, come rushing into the tavern. He was being chased by a thoroughly maddened and equally naked Valens, who was swinging his gladius wildly, which was still in its scabbard. As Praxus rushed past the table where his friends were, Valens threw the sword at him. Decimus very calmly grabbed the wine pitcher and his goblet off the table as the gladius crashed into Artorius’ and Gavius’ drinks, sending goblet shards and wine everywhere. Praxus was still chuckling to himself as he sat down. Decimus handed him the wine pitcher, which he immediately started to drink out of. Once he realized that several dozen sets of eyes were fixed on him, Valens gave a nonchalant shrug.

“What?” he asked as he turned around and casually started strutting towards the door, all the while making no attempt to cover his exposed nether regions. “Praxus, be a good
man and bring my gladius back to the barracks, will you?” he called over his shoulder.

Praxus gave him the thumbs up while attempting to finish off the pitcher of wine in one pull.

They spent the rest of the night drinking and chasing the tavern wenches. Somehow, everyone actually managed to find their way back through the main gate and to their barracks. Artorius had not drunk quite as excessively as the rest, though he still felt the after effects and slept late.

The next morning Artorius walked briskly around the inside perimeter of the fortress. He was feeling vigorous and full of life, in spite of his excesses of the night before. As he walked back towards the barracks, he saw a lone soldier sitting on the ground, near a secluded section of the wall. He thought nothing of it until he saw that it was Gavius from his section. He was sitting with his back against the wall, his knees curled up into his chest, and his arms wrapped around his legs. The young legionary seemed to be disturbed about something.

“Hey
, Gavius,” Artorius called, waving to him.

Gavius just nodded his way and continued to stare off into space. This puzzled Artorius, so he walked over to the man who only days before had been a recruit like him.

“Something the matter?” he asked.

Gavius just ignored him.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you didn’t have enough coinage on you last night to score you a little strumpet.” He elbowed his friend good naturedly. He composed himself when he realized there was something more serious at work in Gavius’ mind. Artorius sat down next to him.

“Are you going to tell me what is on your mind, or do I have to drag Magnus over here and have him beat it out of you?”

“I’m afraid, Artorius,” Gavius finally replied.

Artorius looked at him, puzzled.

“Afraid, of what?” he asked.

“Failure,” Gavius replied. “I try to come across as strong, both in body and spirit. Truth is I’m scared out of my mind. I have no family. I was orphaned when I was only a child. I lived poor and in the streets. Only my name allowed me to join the army. I have a better chance at life here than I have ever had. To fail here will mean that I failed in life.”

“I don’t see how you could view yourself as a potential failure,” Artorius conjectured. “We all struggled through recruit training, but we made it. You’re one of the best javelin throwers I’ve seen. You fight well enough when we spar, so what is it?”

“I guess I’ve never had anyone expect anything of me before. I feel so overwhelmed at the possibility of letting these men down, especially the veterans who work with us. They’ve become the big brothers that I never had. I know we’ve only been in the army a short while and have barely made it through training. I just feel that in that short time I’ve become a part of something. That something is much larger that I can ever be. To be successful at it is a heavy burden.”

“Yet it is a burden we all accepted willingly,” Artorius answered. “And truth is, to be a soldier of Rome takes more than any man can give of himself. There is only one way that any of us can succeed in this life, and that is by working together. A man in the ranks is not best judged by how he performs as an individual. What best judges him is how well he uses his talents in conjunction with those of his brothers. Our combined skills, yours and mine, are worth more than those of ten men who cannot work together. That is how the Roman Army has won so many of its battles when greatly outnumbered. Together we hold the very fabric of the Empire together.” He clutched his hand in a fist to emphasize the point.

“And if we fail to hold that together?” Gavius asked.

Artorius smiled and shrugged. “We don’t, because it is
not
an option. Accept the fact that you are a valuable part of this century, Gavius. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here. None of us will fail, because we don’t let each other fail.”

Gavius smiled and nodded at that. Artorius rose to his feet, smacked his friend on the shoulder and started to walk away.

“Looking forward to your first sparring session with Vitruvius tomorrow?” Gavius asked.

“No,” Artorius answered, without looking back. “I’m starting to think I may have lost all control of my senses on that one
.”

The next day, Praxus and Sergeant Statorius passed by the drill and practice field. They turned to watch as two legionaries sparred with each other. Both were big men, ripped with muscle, though one was slightly taller and even larger than the other. Within seconds, the larger man had beaten his opponent down and was standing over him with his training gladius pointed at his opponent’s throat. Praxus and Statorius just smiled and shook their heads.

“Seems like our Artorius is getting the first of his personal lessons from Vitruvius,” Statorius remarked.

“I wonder how long he’ll last,” Praxus said as they watched Vitruvius help the young legionary get to his feet before they squared off again.

Within seconds, Artorius was on the ground again, this time he was doubled up, clutching at his stomach.

Praxus dropped his head while stifling a laugh. “I’ll be surprised if he comes back after today.”

In the background, Artorius got to his feet,
breathing heavily and set into his fighting stance once more.

“I don’t know,” Statorius replied. “There’s something about him. He’s eager, yes. But there is something more to it than that. I think these sparring sessions could work wonders for him.”

They watched as Vitruvius beat Artorius into submission yet again. This time he did not get up so fast.

“Provided Vitruvius doesn’t kill him first,” Praxus laughed as they turned and walked away.

“Gods have mercy, but that hurt!” Artorius gasped as he lay on his back.

“You’re talking, so you can still breathe,” Vitruvius remarked as he leaned against his training shield and removed his helmet. “You’ve got good aggression, soldier. However, you are far too reckless. You’re too anxious to end your fights quickly. You need to learn a bit of patience. There’s nothing that says the fight has to end with the first blow struck.”

Artorius rolled to his side and
winced. He still couldn’t figure out how a big man like Vitruvius could beat him not only with overwhelming power and intensity, but also with the speed and finesse of a cat.

“You end your fights quickly enough,” he remarked as he sat up.

Vitruvius snorted. “That’s only because my opponents usually make it all too easy for me,” he said with his eyebrows raised. He reached down and helped Artorius to his feet. “That’s enough for today. Remember what I told you. Practice on the training stakes, and we’ll see next week what you’ve learned.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

After he put away his training weapons and stowed his helmet, Artorius headed over to the bathhouse. Though he was covered in dirt and sweat, it seemed like the Sergeant had not exerted himself at all. As he walked towards the bathhouse, Magnus came running over to join him. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw his friend’s sorry state.

“So how was your first sparring session with Vitruvius?” he asked, knowing the answer.

Artorius said nothing. He just grimaced as he walked along with a slight limp.

“That good, huh?” Magnus persisted.

“I swear that man’s not human,” Artori
us groused. “I mean, how can a man with so much size and power be that quick? He’s even bigger than I am, so one would think I would have the edge in speed and agility. Ha! It’s not even close!”

“Think you’ll get anything out of working with him?” Magnus asked.

“Besides frustration and a lot of pain?” Artorius retorted.

“Hey, you’re the one who volunteered for this
.” Magnus remarked.

Artorius laughed in spite of himself. He still wasn’t sure why he had asked Vitruvius to tutor him one-on-one. He didn’t just want to be the best there was, he was actually curious to see for himself if the Sergeant really was invulnerable.

“I wonder how he learned to be this good,” Artorius said as they walked into the front of the bathhouse.

“A lot of trial and error I suppose,” Magnus replied.

“I doubt there was much error,” Artorius remarked. “I don’t think anyone has ever even scratched him.”

Artorius’ body ached the next day as he, along with approximately twenty soldiers from the century, headed out on road repair detail. It was his first time doing such a task, since they were just barely out of training. They had been allowed to leave their helmets and armor behind, though every soldier carried his sword belt with him. They marched smartly out the gate, with several oxen carts bearing pre-made paving stones,
picks, and shovels in the center of their formation. Just ahead of them, two centuries were marching out the gate, fully armored.

“Where are those fellows off to?” Artorius asked aloud.

“They’re from the Eighth Cohort,” Valens replied. “They’re conducting patrols of the area, checking to see if any enemy raiding parties have crossed the river.”

“Is that a common thing for us to be doing?” Magnus asked.

“Not usually,” Valens replied, “especially at this time of year, and since we hold all of the Rhine bridges. However, one can never be too cautious.”

Artorius and Magnus watched with interest as the two
centuries maneuvered into a line formation and started sweeping through a grove of trees towards the river.

It was several
miles to the point where the repairs would be taking place. Artorius still walked with a slight limp. However, he felt the walk was doing his body some good. After the first couple miles, he felt loosened up, and he no longer ached as much. He knew immediately when they came upon their designated work site. The paving stones had crumbled and washed away, leaving a ragged mess.