Retribution

Chapter Fourteen

After an uncomfortable but dry night, Varro and his companions packed their kit and bid their farewells to Vidus, Helco and the other soldier at the outpost. The messengers had already left before first light, heading to their own destinations. The day was cold and overcast but the rain threatening to fall held off and they continued their journey. As a light drizzle started, Isca came into view on the horizon as the travellers hunched down trying to prevent the wet from seeping down their necks. Approaching the large garrison’s gate, one of four, rain fell freely off Varro’s helmet.

“I’ll be glad to get into a hot bath,” he said, “my feet are numb.”

“I second that.” Grattius replied and then shouted up to the guard above who, straining through the now heavy rain, recognised them and shouted for the doors to open. They cantered in and headed directly for the stables where a legionary happily took their horses.

“Right let’s get out of these wet clothes.” Varro said, “Then I’ll go and see the Legate and tell him about the task we’ve been set, I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed.” A group of eight legionaries marched by outside followed by another, two tent parties glistening in the rain.

“Grattius, you can go and see the quartermaster and see what he can give us, anything local, clothes, boots, carrying bags, you know what we need, but get these two some accommodation first and not in the barracks with the men, we’ll never see them again.” He smiled at Brenna and Lita. “I’ll come and find you later.” He headed off towards his own accommodation as Grattius and the two females spoke briefly.

“Well ladies, looks like you’re mine for the time being, come on I know just the place for you.” They looked at him with worried expressions, “Don’t worry it’s nothing awful although it is at the back of the stables, not attached,” he added, “and it has heating and baths, even a roof. It’s used for visiting dignitaries,” the women looked at him confused, “important people, like you.” He smiled and waved an arm indicating the way, “Come on, the sooner we get out of these clothes the better, and no I don’t mean in that way.” He led the way to the building where they were to be accommodated.

After Varro had taken off his soaked clothes inside his warm room and dried off, he changed into a fresh tunic and draped a cloak over his shoulders, checked his appearance in the long brass mirror against the wall and went to see the Legate. All the permanent buildings were now served by the hypocaust under floor heating system so he felt the chill again as soon as he went outside. He knew that the information was to be kept to a minimum regarding the plan to speak with Caratacus, but clearly the Legate was one person who had to know the details. As it turned out, the Primus Pilus was discussing plans with the legion’s commander when he entered the Principia headquarters well lit room. He was vaguely aware of the unit’s symbols on the walls, Capricornus the horned goat, Pegasus the winged horse and Mars, god of War, son of Jupiter and Juno. Varro handed over the scrolls given to him by Aulus Plautius and was promised every assistance he required, he acknowledged their words with a salute but felt dizzy, not at all like himself. As he left the building he shuddered, feeling the cold as if it had entered his bones, he pulled the cloak around his shoulders and sneezed. He walked quickly back to his room and threw the now wet cloak down over a chair and picked up a thick blanket, he wrapped it around himself and then fell onto the bed and was asleep in moments.

“I can’t believe you killed him.” Ardwen said to Caradoc once they had mounted their horses and were heading back travelling east.

“Can’t you?” He shouted over the noise of the clattering hooves on the path. “We aren’t animals but even an animal wouldn’t do that to another. I don’t have a problem killing the enemy but those men didn’t deserve to die like that Ardwen. Nobody deserves a death like that.”

“They do the same to us,” He shouted back, “when they nail our people to trees and crosses.”

Caradoc pulled on the reins of his horse and stopped, “We’re not going to argue over this cousin and I don’t care what they do, we are not like them. They,” he pointed in the direction of Mona, “will not behave like them nor will we, war is one thing, barbarity of that kind is something else altogether.”

Ardwen frowned clearly not understanding his cousins reasoning.

“Imagine yourself in the same position as those men, stripped of your flesh,” Caradoc said, “in agony, seeing it happen to others, those around you, men you had lived with, fought with.” He spat. “That is no way for a warrior to behave, take arms, cleave heads and kill but do it in battle where there is honour, man against man or woman for that.” He reached out and grabbed Ardwen’s wrist. “We are better than that vile diseased creature back there or do you think me wrong?”

Ardwen was surprised by the question, “I didn’t think of it in that way,” he placed a hand over Caradoc’s, “but you’re right, it is no way for any man to die or any creature for that.”

Caradoc turned his horse and addressed the warriors that had accompanied him, whose very presence had assured his safety on Mona after the death of the high priest, “I did not go there intending to kill a druid on their sacred island, but I will not allow that sort of torture to prevail as long as I lead you as a people. Do not think of me as weak for I am not, but if you cannot abide by what I say as an entire people, then I will re-consider leading you against the threat we face.” His horse whinnied. “If you kill a man in battle, take his eyes, cut out his heart, rip the flesh off his face, then do it as men not as cowards who lurk waiting for those to be sacrificed later.” The horse spun round sensing the tension. “That is all I ask, I understand your hatred of Rome and all it stands for believe me, I have seen what they are capable of but that,” he pointed again to Mona, “is no way for anyone to behave and I will not accept it from any of you.”

He examined the faces of the men listening to him expecting to see anger or resentment at his words but there was none. “I will do my best to help protect you, all of you, and your families and expect your loyalty in return, that is all I ask of each and every one of you.” He paused, “When we get back later, I want you all to tell those who are close to you exactly what happened today, leave nothing out. Tell it as it happened so everyone is clear, do you all hear me?” Heads nodded their understanding. “We have to be united against the legions of Rome, each and every one of us or we’re doomed to failure. Those men who have made those so called sacrifices to our gods have done nothing to help us in that aim, in fact they have merely done us harm. I would have persuaded those soldiers to help us but that is no longer possible because those fools did what they did. Do you all hear me and understand what I’m saying and why I’m saying it?” He asked. They did. “Come then, let’s get back and out of this weather.” He said and led them west.

Later that night in the warmth of the roundhouse he shared with Mott, he discussed the day’s events and watched as she screwed up her face in disgust as he explained what he had seen on Mona. He told her of the speech he had made to the men and what he had told them he expected of them, she smiled approvingly at his words.

“Husband I would expect nothing less from you and if they don’t agree,” she caressed his face, “we’ll know soon enough and we’ll take our people and leave, but I don’t think that will happen. The Silures, Ordovices, Deceangli and Demetae have sworn their allegiance to you. They are proud and know that you will do whatever you can to ensure their survival.” She kissed him.

“Do you believe that, even though I killed one of their druid leaders?” He asked now doubting himself.

She kissed him again and led him to their fur covered bed, “Yes husband I do.” She said and pulled him into bed.

Varro woke up three days later. He was barely aware of the time in-between from wrapping himself in a blanket and falling onto his bed, until he tried to open his eyes again. Blurred images flashed through his mind, fits of coughing, cold sweats and an almost drunken sensation, where was he? His eyes were still heavy as he struggled to open them, sensing someone was near. He felt something against his flesh and then realised he was naked but he didn’t remember undressing. He shook his head slowly and heard a slight rustle as his dark hair brushed the pillow.

“Ah you’re awake.” A voice said, slightly husky, he searched his memory, it was familiar, he tried to concentrate but the pain in his head prevented it. A wet cloth was applied to his forehead.

“You’ve been out cold for days, three in fact.” The voice said, “We were worried you might never recover at one point when you became delirious and started shouting and trying to fight us.

“What, what are you talking about?” He managed through a croaky voice.

“It’s me Varro, Brenna. I’ve been here since Grattius found you when you didn’t come to our room that night. He came looking for you and found you thrashing around, wrapped in a blanket, we’ve been so worried.”

He raised his head a little, it pounded somewhere at the back. “What happened?” He felt her sit on the side of the bed.

“The medicus thinks it was a fever brought on by the cold and rain, I’m so glad you’re alright now.” She touched his left shoulder. He focused his eyes and her blurred face became more defined, then clear, her own dark eyes compassionately staring down at him. He saw she was wearing a short sleeved tunic, her light brown thighs exposed. Automatically, without thinking, he placed the palm of his hand there. Her skin was smooth to the touch.

“You’ve been here all along?” He said trying to sit up.

“Stay still,” she said and poured some water, “here, drink this.” She held the cup to his mouth and he took a few sips. Then he suddenly tried to sit up quickly.

“The mission,” he said eyes wide, “we’re not supposed to be here.” She pushed him back, “Don’t worry, it’s been delayed until you’re fit to travel.” He lay back closing his eyes.

“Grattius wanted to go without you, but the Legate wouldn’t allow it and I didn’t feel happy with just him and Lita for company.” She looked at the window at the dark clouds above, “It’s probably a good thing you got ill here or we’d have been stuck outside in the middle of nowhere, no shelter, you could have died.”

“Grattius would have strapped me to Staro and brought me back.” He opened and closed his eyes blinking, “I feel like I’ve drank the legion’s entire wine cache, my head.” He brushed a hand through his thick black hair.

“Lie still and relax, in a few days you’ll be fine.” She rubbed his stomach. “You need to rest and recuperate. You know you men suffer worse from these things than women.” She smiled and looked down seeing the physical reaction to her touch, “See, you’re beginning to feel better already.” Her hand moved lower and the door opened.

“Ah awake at last.” Grattius said bursting into the room. Brenna pulled her hand back quickly. “We were beginning to think you’d sleep through the entire winter.” He looked down at Varro, “So, feeling better then? You’ve had Brenna looking after you for three days solid. She hasn’t left your side except to wash, even slept in that chair.” He looked at the large framed wooden two seat chair against the wall. They both stared at him, “What?” He raised his eyebrows. “Oh right I see,” he smirked, “feeling a lot better then?” He walked back to the door, “Well don’t overdo it, you’ll need all your energy once we get moving.” He grabbed the door handle, “I’ll be back later.”

Hearing the door closed firmly, Brenna smiled, “Now where were we?” Her hand moved back to his stomach and then went lower.

Four days later, Varro and his small party were ready to move out. Their horses were packed as were two mules that carried rations, clothes, blankets, bowls and food. The day was overcast, a grey sky overhead threatened rain but it was relatively mild as the clouds moved slowly above. Varro and Grattius were dressed in local garb and carried long swords, they knew the disguise might work form a distance but if anyone got close, they’d see their short hair and become suspicious.

“Juno’s cunt!” Grattius said looking down at his clothing and then up at Varro, “We look like a right pair of barbarian ball breaking bastards dressed like this, I just thank the gods my poor old mother isn’t here to see this, she’d slice me a new hole in my arse that’s for sure.” He said pulling at the thick woollen jacket he’d been given, “And will you look at these fucking pants!” He bent forward and examined the chequered trousers the quarter master had supplied him with, they were a dull yellow with light brown lines criss-crossing them, “I don’t know about a trip east, how about a fool in the circus?”

Varro smiled coughing, he still hadn’t fully recovered from his virus, “Ah we’ll be fine and at least our legs won’t get cold eh?” He looked down at his long trousers that matched those that Grattius was wearing.

“I’m glad our type of clothing is to your liking.” Lita said as she appeared in the stable with Brenna closely behind her.

“Yes, most attractive you both look,” Brenna added, “I don’t know if the females along the way will be able to resist you, it may take us some time to reach our destination.” She went to her horse and threw the saddle up onto its back.

“Very funny I’m sure, you two could join the act on stage. We could make a fortune between us, the two Roman fools and the barbarians with blades.” Grattius said securing his own saddle. “How I ever got myself into this mess I’ll never know.”

It took a few moments for them all to be happy with the way things were packed onto the mules and to sort out what they were carrying, weapons primarily, before they led the mounts out of the wooden framed building.

“Off somewhere nice then Centurion?” One of the young legionaries asked who looked after the horses and mules.

“Never you mind, you nosey little bastard.” Grattius said climbing onto the mounting bench located outside and jumping up onto his horse. “You just go and groom some of those animals in there and mind your own business.” The trooper who couldn’t have been more than twenty years of age looked hurt.

“No need for that Grattius, the lad was only asking.” Varro said.

“Really, didn’t you see the smirk on the little fucker’s face? Bloody laughing stock we are and this will be the last they see of us, dressed like bloody blue nosed hairies before we vanish for evermore.” He rocked forward in his Celtic saddle and got his horse moving. “My bloody balls won’t last that long though anyway not riding on this thing.” He grabbed between his legs and re-arranged himself, “Ah that’s a bit better.” He moved about in the saddle, it was a lot smaller than the Roman style he was used to, “Bruised balls, dressed like a savage and off deep into enemy territory wonderful, just wonderful.”

“I hope you’re not going to complain all the way there are you?” Brenna asked but Grattius didn’t answer, he just gave her an angry look as she fell into line behind him.

“Take a good look at civilisation for the last time,” Grattius said as they headed slowly towards the main gate, their two mules at the rear attached by ropes, “goodbye, farewell.” He said to various pedestrians as they walked by. “We’ll see you in the next life, enjoy yours here won’t you?” He was met by frowns, the occasional grimace and a few smiles. Varro took the space behind Brenna and watched as her body moved with the motion of the horse and wished that they were anywhere else other than where they found themselves.

“Once we’re out on the track, I want Brenna and Lita up front so that they can do the talking if we come across any Britons, we‘re not going to get very far if the locals see there’s two Romans dressed as them on the move.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Grattius said, “they’ll probably be too busy pissing themselves laughing when they get a good look at us to care about where we’re going.”

And so the tone for the first leg of their mission was set with Grattius complaining bitterly about his saddle, horse, sword and clothes, until the first of the mountains came into view on the horizon and then he became quiet. Brenna led the four of them around the estuary and crossed the river where the horses were comfortable in the fast running water. They camped overnight with the mountains now a thumbs width high in the distance, the view against the darkening grey sky even more foreboding.

“We’ll get a good night’s sleep and set out at first light,” Varro said untying his blanket roll as Grattius set about lighting a fire, “I’ll take first watch after we’ve had some food, no need to take any chances.”

Their supper was eaten in silence until Grattius asked Varro and Brenna about their last experience in the mountains. The conversation didn’t improve much after they had told their stories from their own perspectives. Varro had found himself alone, isolated and cut off from his men and Brenna had found herself at the camp of the enemy, where she had been forced to kill Decimus. She explained that had she not killed him, she would have shared his fate and although it had been an awful thing to do, she had found herself with no choice, “It was him or both of us.” She had said.

“I’m stunned,” Grattius had remarked and had even stopped stuffing food into his mouth for a while, “and we’re going there?”

Varro winced as the image returned to him, the shock, disgust and brutality of that moment ingrained into his very soul. How many nights had he lost sleep over what had happened that night, he didn’t know. He had wanted to run out from behind cover, sword in hand, it didn’t matter if he survived, he just wanted to avenge his fellow soldier and friend but something had held him back. Time had taught him a valuable lesson, things weren’t always as they seemed, but that didn’t take the bitterness he felt in his heart away every time his memories brought it back.

A light drizzle woke them in the morning. Grattius was already busy packing his blanket roll and tying it onto his mounts rump. “Ah good morning fellow travellers,” he said, “a great day awaits us.” He said gesturing upward at the falling rain.

Nobody felt like eating, so within the time it took the rest of them to pack their things away, they were heading slowly west again. Before long they could all feel that the gradient of the surface they were travelling on had changed and although they weren’t at the foot of the mountains, the valleys lay before them. The wind had picked up and the rain was now horizontal at times and lashed into them in waves with the wind.

“I didn’t appreciate how much I’d actually be enjoying this,” Grattius shouted through the neckerchief he’d pulled up around his mouth, “but it’s so good that I think that I’m going to soil myself.”

Lita rode her horse closer to him, “Shut up you fool, anyone nearby will hear your big mouth.”

He turned to Varro, “I do believe she’s actually warming to me you know.” Lita shot out an arm and struck Grattius’ shoulder. “See,” he said, “it could be love soon.” She pulled her horse away and caught up to Brenna at the front. Eventually they found a shale path and followed it up as it wound its way higher and higher.

“How much further?” Grattius asked.

“Until we’re where exactly?” Varro answered, “You’ll see when we get to the top of this valley it’s not as simple as that.” Grattius screwed up his features and pulled the neckerchief higher. Sure enough when they got to the summit, out there in the wind and rain was the shadow of another valley in the distance.

“Marvellous.” Varro heard Grattius mutter under his breath, “Bloody marvellous.”

Caradoc was just settling down for an evening meal with Mott when a scout reported to his roundhouse.

“Are you certain they came from Isca?” He asked of the man who was standing before him soaked wet through to the skin.

“I followed them all the way and skirted around them at midday and came straight here. There can be no doubt, they left the Roman Garrison yesterday, four riders two women, Britons I’d say and two men, both Roman but dressed like us. They wear our clothes but they ride like them, I’m sure of it.”

Caradoc smiled, “Go and find my cousin straight away.” He stood and reached out for the scout’s hand, “You have done well my friend,” He shook the hand firmly, “Go and get yourself dry and warm.”

Varro woke with a start. He shook his head and opened his eyes and immediately felt cold and wet, he began to shiver. He peered out from underneath his blanket and saw Brenna’s form next to him, the fire was black. It must have gone out some hours before soaked through by the rain.

“Ugh,” he groaned sitting up, “does it ever stop raining here?” He asked no-one in particular.

“It helps the grass grow, which in turn feeds the sheep, the sheep feed us.” Lita said standing and shaking the water from her own blanket.

“I think I’m soaked right through to the scrotum.” Grattius said, “And no I don’t mean the thing carrying coins.”

“But the contents are just as useless around here anyway so I wouldn’t worry.” Lita said smiling.

“Give me a chance to show you and you’ll change your mind.” Grattius said as Lita’s usual frown re-appeared.

“I’d rather sleep with that mule.” She said pointing to the animal grazing away quite happily on the lush grass nearby, rain bouncing off its back.

Grattius got up, “One day my girl, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

Brenna came down from the high ground where she had been keeping watch for the last few hours, “Are you ready to go?” She asked the sodden group.

“Ready as ever.” Varro replied tying his wet bedroll up and then sneezed.

“I hope you’re not getting ill again?” Lita asked, “If you go down with that virus out here we’re done for.”

“Don’t worry it was a sneeze nothing more, it doesn’t mean I’m getting ill again.” He said.

“It’s not too late to turn back if you think you’re going to go down with that virus again, you were out of it for days last time.” Brenna said, concerned, “We need you at your best.”

He climbed onto his horse, “I’ll be fine I’m sure.” He said and sneezed again.

They travelled slowly further into the valleys and before mid-morning, they were consumed by huge green hills with steep falls at the side of paths, carpets of forests below where masses of pine trees awaited them, silver streaks of river snaking their way along the forest floors.

“How much further?” Grattius asked from behind the hood now covering his face.

“If you ask that one more time, I swear I’ll kick you off your horse and into the valley below.” Lita said.

“Ha, I think I’m a little damp for foreplay at the moment Lita but thank you for the offer, maybe later eh?”

She ignored him and continued riding, just as the patter of rain hitting them stopped and a shard of sunlight fought its way through the cloud. Varro shuddered, head down and looking pale.

“I think we need to warm up,” She said, “perhaps stop for a while and build a fire.” She was looking at Varro who was riding with his head down, his dark hair slick with rain water.

“Don’t worry about me if that’s what you’re thinking.” He coughed, “I’ll be fine.” His words said one thing, his body said another.

“Maybe I should ride on and look for some shelter? Lita suggested, “There are settlements in the next valley, I remember them from when I lived here as a little girl.” She looked at Brenna and Grattius for a response, “I could get help. We need to get him inside as soon as possible, he needs shelter, warmth.”

Brenna looked around becoming more concerned, “Go,” she pointed further along the track they had been following, “stay on the path, the last thing we want is to get separated. We’ll keep going and if we get to a fork in the road, we’ll wait for you.”

Lita nodded, turned her horse and galloped off, splashing water. “Come on,” Brenna said leading the two men, “we have to keep going.”

As they got lower, winding their way down the path they were following, the canopy of trees above shaded them from what little sunlight there was, Varro was visibly trembling now.

“We should stop and get him into some dry clothes.” Grattius said looking about, “I’m going no further.” He stopped his horse, jumped down and secured the reins to the branch of a tree.

“I was going to suggest the same.” Brenna said as she got down off her own mount, “Over here.” She said peering through the branches, “We’ll leave the horses there so Lita sees them when she gets back. I think there’s a cave or something here.” She said crouching down and walking through the undergrowth. “Well more of a shallow scrape out of the side of the hill but it will do,” she said from inside the trees, “it’ll give us some shelter though, so bring him through.”

Grattius reached up and grabbed Varro who was slumped over his horse shivering uncontrollably and pulled him to the side, “Come on, it’s a good job you centurions have us optio’s to look after you isn’t it?” He said dragging Varro off the horse by his shoulders, he didn’t even respond to the quip and his legs fell to the ground heavy and lifeless. Grattius threaded his arms under Varro’s armpits and dragged him to where Brenna was beginning to gather some dry sticks together.

“I don’t know how much wood we can find that hasn’t been soaked.” She said piling up the twigs she had found. Grattius gently laid Varro down and went back to the mules, returning a few moments later with an enormous leather sack.

“Right let’s get his clothes off quickly and get him into something dry, once that’s done we’ll worry about the fire.” Grattius said to Brenna as they both helped undress the centurion who was now either heavily asleep or unconscious, they weren’t sure which.

“Should we wake him?” Brenna asked pulling off the heavy tunic he was wearing. Grattius held Varro’s head up and looked at his face, “I don’t know what to do for the best,” he said, “let him sleep.” He looked at Brenna. “It’s supposed to help isn’t it?”

They stripped him down completely and then wrapped him in dry thick woollen blankets and began preparing to light the fire. Not long after the small flames began to warm them, they heard Lita’s voice calling for them.

“Over here Lita, follow the path we’ve cleared from the horses.” Brenna shouted.

“I will,” she called back. “I’m not alone though.” Grattius and Brenna exchanged nervous glances. The optio reached for his sword.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Brenna said to which he grimaced.

“And why not, what if they’re hostile?” He asked.

She looked round, “Remember where we are and there are three of us, what would you hope to achieve?” He frowned and moved his hand away from his hilt clearly not happy about the situation.

Legionary Valerius was acclimatising to his new cohort in the century and although the men in his tent party had been briefed as to how he had come to join their ranks, they were quite understanding and welcoming. He had expected a hard time but these men had quickly accepted him as one, of their own but he had been questioned nonetheless.

“So you had no choice then?” Pollo, a seasoned veteran had asked looking around at the others when he had first been introduced to them. “I’d have done the same, no point in dying for nothing eh?” The other six sat on their cots had agreed nodding. “Imagine if you and your friends had starting launching arrows at the hairies, you wouldn’t be sat here now that’s for sure would you?” He took a bite from a biscuit. “No you did the right thing friend believe me. It’s all well and good these brave bastards sat behind the lines slurping on fresh wine and buggering slaves every day, to start spouting all that bile about duty and honour but you tell me, when was the last time they saw any action eh? The last time they drew their swords in anger it was probably a wooden one in training. They can all tell heroic tales of duty and honour and how they’d lose their lives defending a lost cause or chasing after a standard, but in reality they’ve never done a day’s soldiering in their miserable lives.” He took another bite and chewed.

“Anyway,” he continued, “it’s not so bad being in the first cohort it’s all about looking out for each other, covering each other’s backs, you do that and you’ll be fine. Step out of line and you’ll have a problem, believe me and you’ll soon know about it and it’s not as if you’re a recruit is it?”

“Six years in.” Valerius said. “I’ve been here from the start. I was stuck in the mountains with Vespasian deep inside Silures territory for days, surrounded by thousands of the bastards, killed my share of them.”

Pollo smiled, “There you go, nothing to worry about then.” He finished his biscuit. “In reality you’re probably better off being with us up at the front of any large engagement, know why?”

He shook his head.

“What deranged lunatic is going to attack a square of centuries head on?” He asked, “We’re at the front for a reason, we know what we’re doing and anyone that attacks us is going to come head first into a huge row of pointy teeth and get introduced to this.” He pulled his gladius from its scabbard. “The hairies have learnt their lessons by now and it’s costs them plenty of lives. No, I’d rather be at the front than be in a century at the side, open to flanking you see, that’s where the threat will be. We’ll be covered off, tucked up, shields raised, swords out, heads down. You’ll be alright with us and with the amount of training we do, it’ll all come back to you soon enough now they’ve taken your bow away, don’t you worry.”

That was how his first night went as they sat around discussing previous encounters with the enemy, how they’d performed, personal stories, the few that had been killed and more that had been injured. Rumours of the next big push into the east Pollo had said were just speculation, Rome could wait and so would the Silures although the incursions into Roman held territory were disturbing, they were to be expected. He had assured him that he had joined them at the best time, campaigning season was over for the winter and the winters in Britannia could be long, so he had time to settle in and get to know how they worked.

They shared wine and joked, played dice and spoke of home, each man telling Valerius in turn where they grew up, how long they had been in the army and of their families back home. He quickly came to like Pollo, who it turned out had been recommended for promotion to Optio, but he had turned it down twice preferring to ‘keep his feet on the ground’ he had said. He had been in the legion twelve years and had fought in Germania and had lost many friends but had gained a lot more, he assured him he would see ‘him right’ and he was true to his word.

Within the garrison during the winter, there was little else to do except train, build, create and train some more. Their training consisted of simulated battle formations using training swords where centuries would face each other, advance in their squares, shields locked, men braced against each other, locked together, front and back by way of harnesses at the rear of each legionary. Optios and centurions would shout and scream orders as the two sides clashed and fought for supremacy, often for bragging rights later. Bruises and black eyes were often common place and even the occasional broken bone from over exuberant participants, but these were hazards of the training.

Changing lines was practised over and over again as it was the most vulnerable time to be facing the enemy in a legionary square but the men on the front line couldn’t stay there indefinitely. After a period of time whilst fighting, usually decided upon by the centurion, and dependent on the circumstances, the front row would retreat and be replaced by the second row coming forward. The former front line would retreat to the rear where they could recover, have injuries dealt with or fall out of line completely if their injuries warranted it and so the tactic would continue.

Training such as this was absolutely essential for the individual to become a part of the unit and for the unit to work as one, like one huge machine knocking down their enemies before them. Likewise and equally essential was the testudo training, which a lot of legionaries actually preferred especially when they were the ones attacking their comrades in the defensive formation. Some centuries became so proficient in it that they were able to hold off two and in some cases, three other centuries while encased in the tortoise formation. Although primarily used for defensive purposes, there were times when it was also used to get a body of men into position in situations such as sieges or to advance whilst coming under attack from archers or slingers.

Practise at pilum throwing in squares was equally important, rotating the men, using the light javelin or heavy spear dependent on the situation, but there were also the more mundane duties such as guarding and kit cleaning, marching in unison, kit pole carrying, switching step from the military pace to the full pace. The military pace was used for tight formations such as preparing to face the enemy, whereas the full pace was used for marching long distances and would be used for the inevitable days marching from point A to point B. Out of the campaigning season, the centuries would also keep fit by running, although this was for physical conditioning, as charging into a fight was strenuously discouraged.

Other units trained within their specialisations, as Onager and Scorpion crews practised with their weapons on the training ranges as did the archers with their bows. So as the weeks went by, Valerius settled into the routine of training with his new comrades. He prepared himself as best as he could by getting to know those around him for the inevitable day when the Garrison’s gates opened once more and they marched out to face the enemy.