R. Peake - Marching With Caesar - Conquest of Gaul

He paused for a moment before continuing in a way that sounded as if he was speaking quietly, yet somehow still pitching his voice loud enough for all to hear, at least in the first few ranks.

“What is certain is that some of you will die, if that is the will of the gods.”

This had our complete attention.

“But if it is the will of the gods that you die, it is still up to each of you to choose how to die. And in dying well, you add even more glory and fame to Rome, to your tribe, to your family, and to yourselves.”

It is a curious characteristic of young men, at least in my lifetime, so I suppose that it has always been so and always will be. As Caesar talked of the possibility of death, while I was at the position of intente I still looked at the others out of the corners of my eyes, and I remember thinking to myself, poor bastards, I wonder which of them will die? As I was to learn later when we talked about the speech, every one of my comrades claimed that they had the exact same thought, for it never occurs to the young that they might be one of those unlucky souls who fall before they live to a ripe old age. It is not until one of us actually falls that it becomes real, and from that moment nothing in one’s life is the same. But at that moment we were still young, full of bright hopes and brash courage, and it was the greatest sense of pride I had ever known in my short life when we finished the oath to finally become MilesGregarii ¸ the common Legionary in the service of Rome. We were dismissed for the rest of the day, as those of the Legion who were veterans came to congratulate us. Perhaps the biggest shock was the change in the demeanor of Pilus Prior Crastinus, who was the first man to stand us to a round of drinks at one of the shabby, ramshackle inns that had been thrown up outside the camp.

“Welcome home, boys,” he roared, the color of his face showing a hint to us that he may have started the celebrations ahead of us.

Passing among us, he shook each of our hands, gave us a slap on the back and made some sort of comment about something we did in training that had either amused him or angered him, although he still relayed the latter with a laugh.

When he got to me, he looked up at me and shouted, “Well! Here’s the hero! Hasn’t seen a battle yet but he already has those Lusitani cunni shaking in their tracks!”

I could feel the blush moving up my neck to my face, and I quickly glanced around. Of course, I was the center of attention but I could not determine what the looks I was receiving meant. Some of the men were grinning at me, apparently delighted at my discomfort; some were not smiling yet still looked friendly. There was only one whose countenance I could not mistake; Didius glowered at me, the bruises under his eyes still slightly visible, making him look like he badly needed a night of sleep. Seeing his displeasure made me feel somewhat better and I grinned, first in his direction then back down to the Pilus Prior.

“I certainly hope that I can live up to your belief in me Pilus Prior,” I said honestly.

He laughed and replied, “You will, boy. You will. I have no doubt of that. Once I saw you working the wooden sword, I knew that you'd be one to watch. Just save some for the rest of the boys, eh?”

With another slap on the shoulder, he moved on to the next man, leaving me to stare bemusedly into my wine cup. I was glad that he possessed no doubts; that made one of us. Vibius saw my thoughtful expression and came over to me, leaning against the wall of the rude hut that served to shelter all of the carousers who found their way there every night.

“Aaah,” he cried cheerfully, “quit moping about, you big ox. You’ll be fine and you know it. He’s right, you’ll probably kill so many of those barbarians that there won’t be enough left for the rest of us.”

Despite his jovial tone, I was still not willing to give up my contemplative mood.

Shrugging, I could only reply, “I hope it works out like that. But the truth is, none of us really know, do we? I mean,” I continued, lowering my voice, “nobody truly knows how they’ll react until it happens, neh? So for all I know, I may find that my knees turn to water, and I piss myself like a girl.”

Having gotten it out at last, I hurriedly took a swallow of my wine so I could hide my face and shame at having made such an admission.

“That much is true,” a quiet voice sounded next to me, and I swiveled my head to see Calienus standing there.

Obviously he had heard what I said, so I saw no point in pretending otherwise. He examined me with a kindly expression, one that I imagined a big brother would use when his little brother came to confide in him some wrong done to him. Without waiting for me to answer, he continued, “Nobody really knows what they’ll do the first time they face the enemy, unless they’re a liar or fool like him,” he jerked his head in the direction of Didius, who had managed to draw a crowd around him, no doubt boasting of the glory he was going to earn. “All you can do is this; rely on your training, and put your trust in the man next to you.” Grabbing me by the shoulder, he turned me about so that he could look me in the eye as he spoke. “The rest will come much easier than you think. When the moment comes, trust me, you’ll know what to do.” Turning to Vibius then, he finished, “And both of you need to watch each other’s back at all times.”

“All right, Sergeant, but we haven’t started the fighting yet,” protested Vibius with a laugh, which died in his throat when he saw that Calienus was not joining him. “I wasn’t talking about the Lusitani,” he replied in a voice pitched just loudly enough to be heard over the din but not any farther than where we were standing. “I’m talking about with him.”

He nodded his head, again in the direction of Didius. Perhaps it was a coincidence, perhaps not, but when we looked over in the direction that Calienus had indicated, we both saw Didius drinking from his cup, staring straight at us.

I had never drunk so much in my young life as I did that night, and truthfully, I do not remember much of what transpired. However, I vividly remember the next day, when we were roused by the Pilus Prior, who amazingly seemed none the worse for wear, and was in his normally loud state.

“On your feet you cunni ,” he roared when he shoved his face into our tent, his customary morning greeting. If we were expecting that the goodwill that he had shown to us the night before would be present this morning we were disappointed. Indeed, as the day progressed it was as if the day before never happened, which we found not only puzzling, but a little disturbing.

Going to Calienus for guidance, he explained to us, “It’s going to be like this a little while longer, at least until we’re blooded. The Pilus Prior is going to keep pushing us until he knows exactly what we can do in battle. If we do well, then you’ll see more of what you saw last night, though not as much.”

I for one, despite understanding what he was saying, still did not like it. We were Gregarii now after all; that is what the whole ceremony had been about the day before, and I expressed this to Calienus, who shook his head.

“What happened yesterday was unusual. Normally you'd have completed your four months of training before swearing in, but Caesar's anxious to move because it’s already late. So he had you sworn in earlier than usual. It didn’t sit well with some of the Centurions, I’ll tell you that.” Before we could ask the question, Calienus added, “The Pilus Prior wasn’t one of them though. I heard him telling the Optio he thinks our Century is ready to go right now. Second Century,” he rolled his eyes and we laughed, “is another story.”