Soldier of Rome: The Legionary (The Artorian Chronicles) (11 page)

They continued to practice slamming their shields into their wooden opponents until Vitruvius was satisfied. All the recruits were panting, out of breath. Artorius was breathing heavy, but the exertion felt good. After a few strikes, he let his shield bottom rest on the ground as he caught his breath. He had no sooner set his shield down when he felt a hard sharp pain as he was struck across the back.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?”
Centurion Macro screamed into his ear, his vine stick held high for another blow.

“Sorry,
sir, I just got tired and thought…” Artorius began. Before he could continue, the centurion smacked him across the back of the legs. Pain shot through them and he almost fell to his knees.

“You thought
what?
That it would be all right if you decide to take a break while a barbarian skewers you like a wild boar? Get your shield back up and strike your target.”

Artorius immediately brought his shield back up and started punching at the stake again. His arm ached
, and he was dripping with sweat, yet he dared not set his shield down, lest he incur the centurion’s wrath again. He heard a hard slap and a yelp as he caught another recruit committing the same crime. Their instructor seemed to take the centurion’s beating of recruits as a matter of course.

“Alright, now that you’ve knocked your opponent off balance with a blow from the shield, the next step is to move in and kill the bastard as quickly as possible,” Vitruvius explained. “If you look, you’ll see that the gladius has a sharp point to it and a short blade. That is because it
is designed for close combat, and it is primarily used for stabbing. Most barbarians that have swords, like to heft them in an overhead slash. Such fighting styles are practically useless. Anyone know why?”

“Because it shows your intent and gives the enemy time to defend against it,” Magnus answered.

“It is slow and less likely to hit,” Gavius responded.

“It leaves their body wide open, thereby they are more easily killed with a rapid stab,” Artorius said.

“All correct,” Vitruvius said, obviously pleased. “Recruit Antoninus, step up here.”

Antoninus came forward and faced the others.

“Now raise your sword arm like you were going to slash.”

Antoninus did so.

“If you look,” Vitruvius said, “you’ll notice that with his arm up, his torso is stretched out, and his body is wide open for attack. Plus, it puts him off balance.” With that, he shoved Antoninus to the ground with little effort. He then extended his hand and helped the recruit get back to his feet.

“As I said, the primary use of the gladius is as a stabbing weapon. You rattle your opponent with a blow from your shield; you finish him with a quick stab to his vitals. The ideal spot is just below the ribcage. If you can strike him underneath the ribs and up at an angle, your blade will go right to his heart or lungs. You want to avoid stabbing directly into the chest, as there is the probability of your blade ending up stuck in the ribs. The abdomen and bladder region also work. Usually these areas are not immediately fatal, however your opponent will be out of action, and he will die soon enough. For a quick kill, you can also aim for the throat or just beneath the jaw. If you cannot get a shot in at the vitals, aim for the legs. A quick stab to the thigh will put him on the ground quickly. Now
, you try it. Remember, just as with a shield punch, draw your power from the hips. Alright, go ahead and do it.”

Vitruvius and Macro watched as the recruits went to work stabbing away at the wooden poles. Artorius again visualized a hulking German in front of him. He imagined the sheer agony he would put the man in when he stabbed him in
the guts, or the throat, or underneath the ribs and into the lungs. Once he was satisfied that things were progressing well, the centurion left.

“Hold your weapon firmly, but do not keep a death grip on it,” Vitruvius told the recruits as they practiced. “Your weapons should become an extension of your arms. They should become a part of you.” After a while, he had the recruits cease in their exercises.

“Alright, you’ve started to grasp the most rudimentary basics of individual combat. Are there any questions before I release you for your afternoon meal?” Vitruvius asked.

“Yes
, Sergeant,” Magnus said. “I understand that battles can sometimes last for hours. I also understand the need for us to be in extremely good physical shape. However, these weapons seem to be excessively heavy.”

Vitruvius smiled
. “Is there anyone else who thinks that their training weapons are excessively heavy?”

There was a pause
before he continued. The recruits did not want to appear weak in front of the Sergeant. “Understand that, yes, the training weapons are heavier than service weapons, twice as heavy, in fact. You are right, Recruit Magnus. Conditioning is extremely important for a legionary. If you can sustain the fight using these training weapons, then using your actual service weapons will come easy. That is it for weapons drill today. Next will be your afternoon meal, followed by classes on century battle drill, and then more physical training with Optio Valgus.”

That afternoon they went over the basics of maneuvering a
century as part of a larger element, the Cohort. Centurion Macro taught these classes himself, since he was the one who would direct such maneuvers on the battlefield. The recruits then returned to the practice field, where the centurion had a large parchment stretched out on an easel. There were numerous diagrams drawn on it.

“While individual fighting prowess is important, it will do you no good if you cannot work together and fight as a team,” the
centurion began. “The lowest element of any legion is the section, which consists of eight soldiers. Ten sections make up a century. When deployed for battle, the century will usually form up on line, facing the enemy. The centurion always takes the position at the right of the line and in the front rank if the century is in column formation. The optio takes the position at the extreme left or at the rear of the formation if the century is in a column. Their job is to make certain that the century holds the line, stays in formation, and executes properly. The signifier will position himself next to the centurion. He is the one who will relay all signals and orders.

“The
cohort consists of six centuries. Normally, it is the smallest unit that will ever operate independently. Standard battle formation for the cohort is centuries on line, one behind the next. Soldiers in each rank will be staggered with those to their front. This will ensure proper overlapping coverage and make it easier when the cohort conducts a
passage-of-lines
.”

“Excuse me
, sir, but what is a passage-of-lines?” Magnus asked.

The
centurion didn’t miss a beat in explaining. “You may recall that the old Greek phalanx consisted of many ranks, often sixteen or more, that were stacked one behind the next. Each phalanx would crash into the other, and they would maul each other with spears about four meters in length, until one broke. If you were in the first few ranks, chances were you were going to end up dead. No matter how decisive a victory was for one side, both would always suffer appalling and unnecessary losses. The passage-of-lines is one of the Roman innovations that help us to avoid this. Once soldiers in the front rank become fatigued, the centurion will give the command ‘set for passage-of-lines.’ At this time, the soldiers in the front rank will set in place and quit advancing forward. The centurion in the next rank will then give the command ‘execute passage-of-lines.’ The soldiers in the second rank, moving together as one, will rush past those in the front rank and smash into the enemy lines. This must be executed with precision, and all soldiers must remain together on line for it to inflict maximum shock on the enemy. The men who were previously in the front rank will back up while attending to any dead or wounded and make their way
through the remaining ranks to the rear of the formation. Are there any questions concerning this?”

There were none.

Afternoon physical training consisted of going for a run around the inside of the fortress, only this time with a log pressed over their heads. As much as this added to the degree of difficulty, Artorius found that he was not as winded as he was after his first run. That night there was the usual friendly banter around supper with the rest of their group. Their companions were more than friendly, though there was definitely a degree of separation that would continue to exist until they completed training. Afterwards, it was a brief trip to the bathhouse before going to bed. Artorius was finding sleep easier to come by at night. He knew his conditioning was improving, he was learning the ways of the legion, and he was slowly transforming into a soldier. He longed for the day when he would be a civilian no longer.

The next day offered more of the same. The problem was Artorius’ arms and back still ached from the day before. It was not long before they started to burn
under the strain of having to wield the practice gladius and shield for so long. He began to seriously regret not having included more endurance exercises in his old workout regime. He knew he was strong, but did not possess the muscular stamina necessary to go for long periods of time.

Sweat seemed t
o gush from every one of his pores. His arms felt ready to fall off as he continued to strike his wooden adversary, that only the day before he had attacked with such zeal and fervor. Just when he felt like he couldn’t go any further he heard a loud yelp as one of the other recruits felt the wrath of the centurion’s vine stick.

Where had he come from?
He glanced over to see Magnus leaning on his shield while Centurion Macro alternately screamed in his ear and smacked him across the back with his vine stick.

“You worthless bag of
sheep shit!”
the centurion bellowed.
“You say your body hurts? I’ll teach you the meaning of hurt!”

The young recruit gritted his teeth and kept his eyes front as the
centurion continued to chastise him both physically and verbally. Finally, with a yell of determination he lunged forward and attacked the wooden stake with renewed energy.

“Better,” he heard Macro say aloud. “Keep it going,
recruit.” Artorius immediately renewed his own assault, lest he, too, fall victim to the centurion’s wrath.

That evening he sat in the heated pool in the bathhouse for some time, allowing the hot water to do its magic on his tight and aching muscles. He watched as Magnus slowly limped into the pool. He had several marks across his back, though none looked to have caused any kind of long-term injury. Still, Magnus winced as he lowered himself into the water.

“Certainly knows how to motivate, doesn’t he?” Artorius asked sarcastically.

“Artorius,” Magnus grumbled with his head lying back against the side of the pool, “would you take offense if I told you to go fuck yourself?”

Artorius laughed at his friend’s plight.

“Seriously though,” Magnus said, looking his way. “I suppose I should be grateful to Centurion Macro for helping me to strengthen my body and my mind.”

Artorius wasn’t sure if he was serious o
r if he was being sarcastic.

“And to think we actually volunteered for this,” Artorius mused to himself, his eyes shut.

“Ha!” Magnus snorted. “I swear the centurion’s not even human. Nor is that decanus who’s out there teaching us weapons drill. That man is some type of unholy machine. Either that or he’s a god of some sorts.”

“Oh relax,” they heard Praxus say as he lowered himself into the pool. “I assure you, Vitruvius is quite human.”

Magnus looked down into the steaming water. “I have got to watch what I say until I know who may be listening,” he whispered.

“It’s no big deal,” Praxus replied. He seemed vibrant and full of life.

Obviously, he had not just had his backside beaten by a pissed off centurion with a vine stick.

“Trust me
, I’ve been there myself on more than one occasion, to include after I got out of recruit training.”

“When was the last time you ever got the vine stick
?” Artorius asked, suddenly curious.

“About a year a
nd a half ago,” Praxus answered, his voice serious. “I was on sentry duty. I had spent the night before letting loose with wine and women, knowing I was to be on duty the next day. Well, about halfway through my shift I decided to use my shield as a prop and catch a quick nap. Lo and behold if Centurion Macro doesn’t wake me up with a blow to the back of my helmet. He caught me so hard, my helmet actually came off. He then walked away, without saying another word. As soon as I got off shift, I received one of the worst beatings I have ever taken in my life.

“What made it harder was there was a set of orders sitting on Macro’
s desk, promoting me to decanus and giving me command of my own section. Needless to say, those got burned; I lost my immune status, also. It was only within the last few months that I got that back. And to be honest, I’ll be lucky now if I
ever
see Sergeant.” He paused for a few seconds, while contemplating things. “But then again, I did get off pretty easy. Falling asleep on sentry duty can be considered a capital offense. Macro could just as easily have had me crucified or hanged.” As Praxus finished his story, Valens and Decimus joined them.