Roman - The Fall of Britannia (14 page)

Prydain inched
forward, his Caligae leaving a sandy trail as he edged toward the
unarmed instructor. Remus stood his ground, his arms now lowered to
his side seemingly totally relaxed, but his one eye firmly locked
on Prydain.

After a few
tense minutes, Prydain made his move. He feinted with his
outstretched left hand as if to strike, but quickly took a giant
pace forward onto his right foot, changing the point of attack to
thrust his Gladius deep into Remus’s unprotected
midriff.

----

Cassus looked
down at the body lying on the sun-warmed sand, surprised at the
amount of blood that had sprayed out from the wounded man. The rest
of the Contubernium stared in awe, not quite believing what they
had just witnessed.

Prydain’s attack
had been perfect. The classic stance, the protecting arm providing
the feint before the lightning quick killing blow had been
administered. All perfect, all textbook. But textbooks had never
faced barbarian swords whilst Remus, on the other hand, was a
veteran of countless battles.

At the last
second, the instructor had leaned backwards and twisted his body to
the left, causing the Gladius to miss his chest by the narrowest of
margins. Grabbing Prydain’s wrist in his own left hand, he
continued to spin his body and lifting his right arm to head level,
slammed his elbow backwards into Prydain’s face, shattering his
nose. Prydain was unconscious before he hit the floor, and as he
fell, Remus snapped his forearm over his knee, causing him to
release the Gladius, which was back in the instructors sheath
before Prydain’s head hit the sand.

‘
I
am insulted,’ said Remus. ‘Is this the best that Rome can offer?
Not only did he underestimate me just because I am unarmed, but in
addition, he told me exactly how he was going to fight. By telling
me a Gladiator had trained him, I knew the style, the tactics and
most of all, the result he expected. I deserved better. Know
everything there is to know about your enemy. Just because they
dress in rags or speak in words you don’t understand, do not assume
that you are better. As legionaries, you will rarely fight alone.
You will advance as one, killing the man to your front and
defending the man to your left. As you step over your fallen enemy,
you will crush him beneath your heel, leaving no threat behind you.
Those that still survive will be finished by the rank
behind.’

He walked around
the inner edge of the circle of watching men, staring at each in
turn.

‘
You
will kill and inflict injury, efficiently, coldly and without
remorse. You will show no mercy. You will advance through their
lines without stopping, administering death without thought, and
when you can kill no more, you will step aside for the man behind
you to take your place. By the time I have finished with you, you
will be killing machines, cold, ruthless and unrelenting. Yes, the
training will be hard, but nothing like that pompous arse said
earlier. Oh no, nothing like it at all, for in truth, it will be
much, much worse.’

‘
However,’ he continued, ‘before we can turn you into these
killing machines, we have to lose that farm blubber hanging around
your bellies, and there is only one way to do that. With immediate
effect, each morning before training starts, every man will run ten
laps of the fort. The last to finish will do an extra ten laps
along with the rest of his Contubernium. This will be repeated
before your midday meal and again at last light.’

‘
Well, what are you waiting for?’ he screamed, and the
recruits turned to start on the run, confused and shocked at their
brutal initiation into the legions of Rome.

----

Prydain moaned
at Remus’s feet, coming slowly back to consciousness. The Optio
crouched and lifted Prydain’s head up by his hair.

‘
Broken nose,’ he said twisting Prydain’s head to examine the
damage, ‘and a broken arm. Nothing life threatening, so stop your
whining. There is a medical room in the guardhouse. Get yourself
fixed up and join your comrades on the run.’

He paused and
pulled out the pendant from around Prydain’s throat. Staring at the
design etched on the leather, his brow furrowed as a long forgotten
memory struggled to reach the surface. When he failed to recall
where he had seen the design before, he let it fall back. It did
not matter, if it was important, it would come back to
him.

----

By the end of
the first week, the recruit’s tunics were ingrained with sweat and
they each had a week’s growth of stubble on their chins. Everyone
stank, as there was only so much dirt that cold water from the
horse troughs could remove. On the seventh day, after a
particularly gruelling morning, the recruits lay scattered over the
sand enjoying a brief respite after a meagre meal of plain dough
pancakes and dried dates.

A Tribune came
out of the fort dressed in full ceremonial armour, accompanied by
three legionaries. Two of the soldiers carried a heavy sack between
them, while the third carried a drum.

‘
Get
to your feet,’ screamed Optio Remus, jumping up from the sand.
‘Form up, three ranks facing me.’

The recumbent
recruits erupted into action, knowing that anything less than
instant obedience would incur painful retribution. When they were
all lined up, Optio Remus called them to attention and the Tribune
addressed the men.

‘
Tirones,’ he shouted, ‘I am Tribune Mateus and I am an
officer of the Ninth. In a few months, we leave this place and
march to Britannia. The galleys that Plautius has sent to take you
to across ‘over’ the sea approach the shores of Gaul as we speak.
The training you have done so far will be as nothing compared to
the conflict that is to come. Those who do not heed their
instructors will probably die in the first battle, and any turning
from the fight, will find their comrade’s blades waiting for
them.’

‘
However, we are only interested in commanding men who serve
without question and if necessary, will die for their fellow
soldiers. Therefore, I am giving everyone here a last chance to
avoid the ignominy and pain. Anyone wishing to reverse their
decision to join the legions can leave right now. You can turn
around and cross that bridge with no recriminations. We will even
give you money for your trip home.’

The two
legionaries tipped out the sack they had carried onto the parade
ground and a pile of smaller leather purses fell onto the
sand.

‘
A
month’s wages if you quit right now, no comebacks,’ shouted the
Tribune.

A murmur crept
through the gathered men. Twenty Denarii to end this nightmare.
Some of them had never seen so much money at one time.

‘
So
what is it going to be?’ shouted the Tribune. ‘Enough money for a
month in the best whorehouse in Rome, or a lifetime of pain and
fear in a far off cold and God forsaken land? You have a hundred
beats to decide and then there is no choice.’ He turned to the
drummer. ‘Begin!’ he ordered.

The drummer
started beating his drum, each beat approximately five seconds
apart, echoing ominously off the fort’s walls. Talking erupted in
the ranks, every man discussing the options with the one next to
him, but still no one moved. Eventually one stepped forward and his
move was acknowledged by the Tribune.

‘
No
recriminations?’ asked the recruit nervously.

‘
No
recriminations,’ answered the Tribune. ‘Take your money and
leave.’

The
disillusioned recruit bent down to pick up a purse from the sand.
As he was on his knees, Optio Remus drew his Gladius and placed it
under the man’s chin, forcing him back to his feet, still clutching
the purse. The parade fell silent, waiting for the thrust that
would surely end this charade.

‘
There is just one more thing,’ said Remus.

The recruit’s
face was white with fear.

‘
Don’t you ever let me see you again. Is that
clear?’

The terrified
man nodded slowly, unable to speak.

‘
Good,’ said Remus and lowered the blade. ‘Now, get out of my
sight.’

The quitter
walked backwards, quickly increasing his pace until finally, he
turned and sprinted toward the distant town as fast as his injured
feet would allow.

‘
Twenty five!’ shouted the drummer, reporting the amount of
beats. The voice seemed to spur others into action, and some ran
forward to claim the purses in the sand, avoiding eye contact with
the veteran Optio.

‘
Fifty beats,’ shouted the drummer.

More joined the
first man and crossed the bridge, clutching their severance pay
tightly in their fists. Cassus looked at Prydain.

‘
I’d
take the money if I was you,’ he said.

Prydain looked
back at Cassus, his nose still swollen from the surgeon’s attempts
to reshape it with wooden rods inserted into his nasal
passages.

‘
I
can’t believe you said that,’ he said, ‘after all these years, you
think I would quit?’

‘
Well it’s not as if you exactly fit in here,’ said Cassus.
‘Look around you. Not many others like you on parade.’

‘
What do you mean, like me?’ asked Prydain.

‘
You
know what I mean?’ said Cassus.

‘
Say
it, Cassus, let’s get this over with once and for all.’

‘
I
will,’ he said. ‘You don’t belong here, Prydain. Take the purse and
join the auxiliaries. There is no shame in that. Stop trying to be
something you’re not. Even Remus has taken a dislike to you, at
least in the auxiliaries you will feel more at home. There are many
like you there.’

‘
Like me?’

‘
Yes, you know, freed slaves.’

‘
I
am not a slave,’ growled Prydain.

‘
Not
anymore, but these men are freeborn. Don’t you see? You don’t
belong here.’

Optio Remus
spotted the two young men talking and approached them, beating the
flat of his blade into the palm of his hand, in time with the
drumbeats.

‘
Well, boy,’ said Remus, addressing Cassus, ‘are you a
quitter?’

‘
No,
Optio!’ answered Cassus bluntly.

‘
No,
I didn’t think you would be, and what about you, slave-boy?’ he
asked staring into Prydain’s face. ‘Are you taking the Emperor’s
hard earned money?’

‘
Seventy five,’ roared the drummer in the background as more
disillusioned recruits made the short journey to the
payoff.

‘
Can
I speak freely,’ asked Prydain, his eyes never leaving
Cassus.

Remus grunted
his permission.

‘
In
that case, Optio, you can shove the Emperor’s money up your
arse!’

Remus’s
expression didn’t alter. Instead, he lifted his Gladius and placed
the flat of the blade against Prydain’s cheek.

‘
At
least you’ve got balls, slave boy,’ he said. ‘But balls are not
enough. Let’s see how long you last.’

‘
One
hundred!’ shouted the drummer and the beating drum
stopped.

Remus spun
around and strode back to the front.

‘
Close the ranks,’ he roared. ‘Numbers?’

One of the
Tessaria counted heads and ran back to the front.

‘
Five hundred and seven Optio,’ he shouted.

The Tribune
nodded to the Optio.

‘
That’s better!’ he said. ‘You know what to do, take them
away!’

----

The end of the
first week’s training was a huge relief for the remaining recruits
and they had been marched to the legion’s dedicated bathhouse just
outside the fort’s walls, to bathe in its steaming waters, heated
by their huge subterranean boilers.

After the sweat
and dirt of the previous week, it was heaven and the pain of their
induction was quickly forgotten as they relaxed in the civilized
surroundings. Each was shaved and had their haircut, and after they
had dressed in clean white tunics, entered an auditorium to feast
on fruit and goat meat. Eventually, an elegant figure came out of
the baths draped in a rich red toga and sipping a glass of wine,
accompanied by two beautiful women.

‘
Stand up,’ screamed Optio Remus and the recruits sprung to
attention. The gathering silenced, staring at the women as the
familiar Tribune began to speak.

‘
Soldiers of Rome,’ he began, ‘we are not barbarians, we are
civilized men, and we will act as such. Yes, you will be driven to
the edge of your physical endurance, but when the chance arises,
you will be rewarded with the benefits of civilization. No matter
how sparse the surroundings, or barbaric the foe, never forget the
race which you descend, for we are truly the children of the
gods.’

‘
This week has been but an induction. Tomorrow your training
starts in earnest. You have twelve hours leave to do with as you
wish. I wouldn’t go to the town if I were you, for it is rife with
spies and murderers. The women have pox and the wine is cat’s piss.
I suggest you prepare your equipment and get some sleep. It will be
in short supply for the next few weeks I promise you. For those of
you that are successful, the next time we meet, you will commence
your battle training. He held up his wine glass to acknowledge the
ranks and returned to the baths with a smile on his
face.