R. Peake - Marching With Caesar - Conquest of Gaul

Thus set the pattern for the next week, where every day seemed to blur together into one long continuous day of marching and the command Repitate ringing in our ears over and over and over. Of course, the command was almost always accompanied with the smack of the vitus , and although I was a bit farther ahead than the others, as was Vibius, I received my fair share of blows. Our days became measured by the sounds of the tromping of our feet and the blowing of the bucina marking the change of watch, yet slowly, we began to at least look like Legionaries, even if the Pilus Prior kept insisting that we were the worst collection of tiros that he had ever seen. Finally, the day arrived for which all of us, particularly Vibius and I, had been waiting. The morning started in the usual manner, but we were told to carry our wooden sword, and instead of being marched to the forum, we marched past it, took a right turn and headed out the Porta Principalis Sinistra , the side gate on the left hand side of every camp, exiting it and stopping on the other side of the ditches. Arrayed before us were a huge number of stakes, the same type that Cyclops had trained Vibius and me on, and despite Vibius being a few men down from me, I was sure that he was fighting the urge to smile as well. Finally! We would get our chance to show that we were not as raw as the others, and I could feel my stomach twist in excitement at the thought of finally doing something with which I was familiar.

Of course, it was not going to be so easy. They were not going to just turn us loose to start whacking away, and for this task, we were formally introduced for the first time to our Optio, who acted as our Cohort’s weapons instructor. He was a bit taller than average and at first glance looked rather pudgy, but as I would learn that was extremely misleading. Although I did not yet know it, he was the only man in the Legion clearly stronger than I was by a good margin. That was not the only deceptive thing about the man; the other impression that one came away with just by looking at him is that he might have been a bit on the slow side. He wore a somewhat slack expression on his round face, with a tendency for his mouth to hang open slightly when he was not engaged. However, once he took up a weapon, he became something entirely different, a blur of motion and controlled savagery the likes of which none of us had ever seen before. Unlike most of the more experienced men he bore no visible marks or scars, which I supposed was a testament to his fighting prowess. Still, I would be lying if I said that the first day we met I was particularly impressed and I wondered if this man would actually have anything that he could possibly teach me after my tutelage with Cyclops.

“This is Optio Aulus Vinicius,” the Pilus Prior announced.

Vinicius gave the slightest nod in our direction as we stood examining him.

“He’s the second in command of this Century, and he’s also our Cohort’s weapons instructor. Today he’ll begin to show you cunni what it truly means to be in the Legions.”

Turning to Optio Vinicius, he said loudly enough so that we could hear, “Good luck Vinicius. You’re going to need it with this lot.” Returning his attention to us, Crastinus finished, “You’ll spend the day with the Optio. I’ll be by to check on you, so don’t think I won’t know if any of you are slacking off! All the marching and drill is fine, but this is what your real purpose is, to fight and kill for Rome. And die, if that’s the will of the gods,” he added, superfluously in my opinion.

With that ominous warning he left us to the Optio, who was still standing there, not having said a word. It was almost as if he were in a trance, though when the Pilus Prior left the area, he snapped out of whatever fog he had been in.

“All right,” he announced, “first thing is for you to gather round that stake right there,” he pointed to one a little distance off.

We assembled around it as he took my wooden sword from me, then had us maneuver so that our backs were turned to the other men who were training on the stakes around us. My first thought was that was smart because we were a little distracted watching other men working on the stakes, but as I came to find out, Optio Vinicius also did not want us infected by what he considered the bad habits that the other Cohort’s weapons instructors were instilling in their pupils. He held a very high opinion of his abilities, and all I can say is that I am still alive after more than 40 years in the Legions because of what I learned from him, in addition to what Cyclops taught me. There must have been truth to his opinion. Once he had us arrayed like he wanted, he showed us the basic positions that we would use in training. These were exactly the same positions that Cyclops had shown us, making it a struggle to appear interested. Inwardly, I was chafing to get started, yet Vinicius had his own pace and was not going to be rushed by a bunch of tiros , particularly a couple who thought they knew what they were doing. He also took time to show us how he wanted us to grip our wooden sword and as I looked at it, I saw that it was not the way that Cyclops had taught us, so I dismissed it as unimportant, confident that once I demonstrated my skill that some quibbling thing like the way I held it would not be an issue.

Finally, after what seemed like a full watch, he had us each stand in front of a stake and he returned my wooden sword to me. Then he walked from one of us to the other, checking our stance, kicking a foot wider here, turning a set of hips there. Finally, he returned to me, and I felt a flush of pride when he looked at my position and found it satisfactory.

Then he saw the way that I was holding the wooden sword but instead of hitting me, he just said quietly, “You’re not holding the weapon the way I demonstrated.”

“No Optio,” I answered, yet I made no move to change, instead just waiting for the chance to show off to him, sure that he would desist from this lunacy.

“And why aren’t you holding it the way I showed you?” he asked, as if he were truly interested.

“I…I’ve had training, Optio, from a man who was in the Legions, and this is the way I was taught to hold it.”

I winced in anticipation of a smack of some sort but instead, Vinicius merely nodded.

“You’re right, that’s the way the majority of the Legions are taught to hold the weapon, but that’s not the way I teach it,” he explained.

Unsure what to do, I stood there but still did not change the grip.

Sighing, he simply said, “All right, I can see you need some convincing. So, turn and face me and assume the first position.”

This was the position that makes us ready to strike, with the blade held parallel to the ground, the arm pulled back, ready to strike and with the hips twisted slightly. That was the position he had told us to get in originally, so I dropped back into it, facing him.

“Now, strike me. As hard as you can. Give me a killing blow.”

I was confused and very apprehensive. Confident as I was in my strength and ability, I was sure that even with the wooden sword I would impale the man, or at the very least break his ribs when I struck. If he was worried, he certainly did not seem to be, and he repeated, a little impatiently, “I said, strike me. Give me all that you’ve got.”

As if sensing my concern, he added, “And don’t worry, if you land the blow, I’ll absolve you with my dying breath.”

He said this last with enough sarcasm that it made me angry, so I immediately struck my blow, punching the wooden sword forward hard as I twisted my hips with as much force and speed as I could. To this day, I am sure that if he were any other man, I would have killed him, wooden blade or no. Instead, with a speed that I had never seen before he lashed out with his bare left hand, using a sweeping motion across his body to make contact with the wooden blade before it touched him, sending the wooden sword flying from my hand. Even as my eyes tried to comprehend what was happening, he made his own move, stepping forward to strike me hard in the stomach with the end of his vitus , which he held in his right hand. Now I was the one who was sure that I was going to die, despite wearing my armor, and I dropped to the ground as if I had been ordered to fling myself down, so violently did I hit the ground. I am not sure how long I was out; it could not have been that long because everyone was still clustered around me, leaning over with a combination of worry and malicious glee. Vibius looked worried, while Didius grinned like it was the happiest day of his life. Optio Vinicius was the only one not bent over. Instead, he stared down at me impassively, hands behind his back, watching as I slowly crawled to my feet.