“Doctor, he’s a Recruit and he didn’t duck. He was stabbed as he killed four attackers,” the Decanus reported.
“He’s an extraordinary Recruit,” the Doctor observed as he collected his instruments.
“I want him,” the Optio said remembering the sharp salute from the Recruit. “Get him through training and claim him.”
“We don’t have an opening,” the Corporal replied. Then remembering the dead Legionary corrected himself, “Oh, I guess we do.”
“There’s no one from our Century assigned as an instructor,” the Lance Corporal said. “I’ve got a squad committed to assisting in the training but we don’t have an instructor slotted.”
“Corporal Thornernus, you’ve just been slotted as an instructor for this Recruit class,” the Sergeant ordered. “I’ll clear it with the Centurion.”
“Yes Optio,” the burley Corporal replied.
“I want him,” the Senior NCO said again while pointing to Alerio. “Get him through training and claim him.”
The Optio and Corporal walked out talking about other Century issues. As they left, the Decanus strolled over to Alerio.
“Recruit Sisera. I’ve something for you,” he said pulling out a curved sheath. From the sheath, he drew a long-curved dagger with a hilt imbedded with pearls. “As near as I can figure, it’s the one used to almost scalp you.”
“It’s beautiful, Lance Corporal,” Alerio replied as he examined the exotic weapon. “But shouldn’t you keep it? You were the Sergeant of the Guard.”
“Thankfully Corporal Thornernus doesn’t go for shiny things,” the Decanus stated. “I’ve got one as does the Sergeant and the Centurion. So, this one belongs to you. The four apparently were professional assassins. They were coming in to kill Legionaries as a distraction for the renegades charged with lighting fires. It was a good plan except for you, Recruit Sisera.”
Chapter 31 - The Training Century
Over the next three days, groups of civilians arrived and a squad from Headquarters Century escorted them through supply and taught them to erect the ten-man tents. They also instructed them in the proper way to carry their gear and how to dress for battle. Most were confused by the straps and necessity of hauling all the equipment. The squad assured them it was important.
While the recruits were settling in, five Optios wandered into the Transfer Post. The five were from the three Forts. With the largest garrisons, they were in constant need of fresh troops. Corporal Thornernus met with them and showed them to their quarters. Late at night on the day before training started, the sixth of the original instructors reported to the front gate.
“Halt, advance and be recognized,” the Private on the main gate challenged.
A Legionary strolled towards the circles of light cast by the braziers. Even in the low light, the guard could see the man was dirty from traveling. Yet, he walked like a panther, measured steps with a powerful roll to his shoulders as he moved into the light.
“Optio Horus of the Legion Raiders,” he stated.
“Sergeant of the Guard,” the Private yelled. “Visitor at the main gate.”
A short time later, the SOG and four Legionaries joined the Private. It took a few moments as the Sergeant of the Guard studied the visitor before he ordered the gate opened.
“Optio Horus. I thought you were dead,” the SOG said as the man approached.
“So did they, Sergeant,” Horus related. “Fortunately for me, they were wrong.”
In the morning, the last Recruit to join the civilians was a big farm lad with bandages wrapped around his head.
Chapter 32 - Recruit Training
“Good morning Recruits. I am Corporal Thornernus,” the NCO announced. “These are your training instructors. Impress them and you’ll be invited to join their unit. Disappoint the instructors and you’ll be here in training until you are dead.”
Beside the Corporal, six Optios stood studying the civilian recruits. They were making initial judgements, sizing up the raw recruits, and already deciding who would fit in with their Centuries. All except for one. Sergeant Horus was yawning and seemed bored.
“We’ll start with a conditioning run,” the Corporal announced. “Just to loosen everybody up. Century, attention, right face.”
Some of the seventy civilians knew to come to attention and fewer yet understood the right face command. Most stood looking lost and confused.
“Oh, pardon me,” sneered an Optio as he stepped towards the lined-up Recruits. “Please stand with your backs straight, chest out, stomach in, thumbs along your sides, chin up and your feet at a forty-five-degree angle. Attention!”
Most of the recruits got it and assumed the position. Some still stood as if they were in the wrong place. In a sense they were.
Another Optio began wandering through the ranks. With a punch, a stomp and a sharp word or two, he taught the dazed to stand at attention.
“Right face,” yelled another Sergeant.
Now the group who had originally faced to the right turned again. Some of the rest, who hadn’t moved the first time turned to face right. And still, some remained facing the instructors. The training Century ended up facing in three different directions.
“Corporal. How many of these will make it?” another Sergeant asked.
“None Optio. We might as well take them to the harbor and drown the lot,” Thornernus replied loudly.
“I agree. Any of you, who can understand me, raise your right hand,” the Sergeant ordered.
Amazingly enough, all the Recruits raised a hand. Unfortunately, some raised their left arm.
“Everyone turn towards the sound of my voice,” another Sergeant ordered. “Good. Now follow me.”
He began to walk away and the Recruits like an accordion stretched out as the mob followed him.
They rushed to keep up with the Optio as he guided the Recruits out of the main gate and around the Transfer Post. He was setting a good pace so only the best conditioned Recruits stayed near him. The rest were strung out. These Recruits received help from the other instructors.
“Do you enjoy being last?”
“How about we find you a pony so you can keep up?”
“Do they have flying carpets where you come from? Because, I swear you don’t know how to use your legs?”
As they neared the harbor, Corporal Thornernus jogged up and replaced the lead Optio. He continued jogging onto an old wooden pier and the herd followed. Near the end, he stopped. The training Century staggered up and filled the pier as he watched.
“Century, Attention!” shouted Thornernus. “Left Face.”
Sergeants walked up and down the line adjusting each Recruit and turning many in the proper direction. Below them, waves slapped the pilings of the pier and the water appeared frothy and deep.
The Corporal looked over the fastest of the Recruits. They were standing in front of him near the end of the pier. Fresh blood leaked through the head bandage of one Recruit.
“Who are you eyeballing Recruit Sisera?” Thornernus shouted into Alerio’s face. “I am not your girlfriend. I will not suffer silent insolence. I want to see you run fat boy. To the training camp and back. Move it, now.”
“Yes Corporal,” Alerio replied.
He snapped a left face move and ran down the line of puzzled Recruits. Mostly puzzled was Optio Horus. The big lad had managed all the instructions and certainly wasn’t slacking off during the march to the pier.
“Optios. Are any of these goats worth saving?” the Corporal asked.
All the Sergeants sadly shook their heads indicating no.
“Then we drown them and go get another bunch,” Thornernus announced. “Everybody, in the water.”
Those who were strong swimmers jumped off the pier. Others, not sure of their abilities were pushed by the Sergeants. As the waves crashed over them, the training Century struggled until first one then another got a foot down and realized the water was only waste deep.
“Swimmers.
Work your way around the pier,” shouted Corporal Thornernus. “Non-swimmers walk to the beach.”
As the Century divided, the Sergeants stripped and jumped into the water. They began teaching basic strokes to the non-swimmers or improving the motions of the swimmers. Water would become a weekly discipline as every Legionary was required to pass a swimming test in order to graduate.
By the time Sisera got back, the Century was standing on the pier dripping sea water. He ran up and joined the end of the line.
“Century, left face,” an Optio commanded.
After a little shoving by the other instructors, they were all facing in the proper direction.
“Step off with your left foot and stomp with your right,” another Optio shouted.” Ready! Left, Stomp, Left, Stomp.”
The stomps rippled along the line as the training Century attempted to march as a unit. During the movement, Optio Horus drifted back to where the Corporal was herding the slackers.
“Corporal. A moment of your time?” Horus asked.
The two NCOs slowed and let some distance grow between them and the rear of the recruit formation.
“The big lad. Why did you send him off?” Horus inquired.
“Recruit Sisera tangled with some rebels the other night,” Thornernus explained. “He probably saved a few Legionaries’ lives and for sure a lot of supplies. I figured the salt water would have been bad for a scalp and a shoulder wound. Funny thing though?”
“What’s that?” asked Horus.
“I believe he would have been one of the first to dive in,” Thornernus said. Then he noticed the rear of the formation was completely out of step. “Left, stomp, left, stomp.”
Suddenly, Sergeant Horus wasn’t bored any longer.
Chapter 33 - Gladius Drills
They spent the rest of the first day fitting armor and showing the recruits how to dress for combat. After a quick meal, they ran them through calisthenics. The exercises ended at sundown and the recruits were instructed to clean up their equipment, their bodies and get some sleep.
Before the sun’s rays touched the Eastern horizon and while the stars shone brightly in the night sky, a voice called out.
“Training Century. Fall in,” the voice didn’t yell. It was spoken in a conversational tone without inflection.
No one appeared from the Recruit tents. The six Sergeants, the Corporal and a Lance Corporal entered the tents. Kicking, yelling, tossing of items across the tent, soon had all the Recruits standing in the cold predawn.
“It’s my throat,” an Optio said so softly the Recruits had to lean in to hear him. “I can’t yell so, when I call, I expect everyone to repeat my words. I appreciate the help.”
The Recruits relaxed. All the yelling was simply a misunderstanding.
“Get on your faces,” the soft-spoken Sergeant whispered.
A few repeated, “Get on your faces.”
“Get on your faces,” insisted the Optio.
This time, every Recruit yelled and dove to the sandy ground as they repeated. “Get on your faces.”
“On your feet,” whispered the Optio.
“On your feet,” the Recruits shouted as they jump to their feet.
“On your faces,” the Optio ordered.
What seemed to be a long while later, the Recruits were sweaty, hoarse from yelling, and covered in sand. The Sergeant walked off silently and another Sergeant came from behind the instructors’ tent.
“What are you people doing?” he asked as the sun brightened the horizon. “You are filthy. Bad enough you’re dirty, you’re not in the uniform of the day.”
The recruits glanced around at each other. A universal what is the uniform of the day passed through their minds.
The silhouette of Corporal Thornernus came strutting out from between the supply tents. As the sun cast the first weak light of the day, he patted his stomach and stood picking his teeth with a straw.
“Breakfast was excellent this morning, Sergeant,” Thornernus announced. “Are the men ready?”
“Corporal. Would you be seen in the mess hall with these goats?” inquired the Optio.
“What?” asked the shocked Corporal. “Not a uniform of the day in the entire Century?”
“What are we going to do?” questioned the Optio.
“Give me a second to figure this out,” Thornernus begged. After a few heartbeats he announced, “Alright people, the uniform of the day is chest armor and your left boot. Go, you’re wasting time.”
The Recruits ran back into their tents and lit lanterns. Moments of panic later, they were back on the practice field. Some had on both boots, some had shirts under their armor and a few were completely dressed for battle.
“Optio. Your opinion?” Thornernus asked.
“Corporal. I don’t see any uniformity in their dress,” stated the Sergeant. “Let’s try this again.”
After changing uniforms of the day six times, the training Century was dressed in tunics and their boots.
“Corporal. I believe they are dressed in the uniform of the day,” announced the Sergeant. “You are free to march them to the mess hall.”
“Optio. The mess hall closed at the end of the watch,” confessed Corporal Thornernus.
“That can’t be right,” challenged the Sergeant.
The two NCOs began bickering and, as they argued, they wandered away until they were swallowed by the supply tents. Every Recruit looked at the man next to him looking for an answer. The answer arrived in the form of Optio Horus.
“Collect your training gladii and form up at the poles,” he ordered.
It wasn’t his gruff voice that drove the Recruits into action. It was the deep scars covering the man’s arms and legs. And the look in his eyes. As if Sergeant Horus could kill you with his bare hands and not break a sweat.
A short while later, the training Century was formed up around the Sergeant. They all held wooden training swords.
“This is a gladius,” the Optio said holding up a wooden sword. “It’s heavier than its metal cousin. But it is a gladius.” He pointed the practice sword at a heavyset Recruit. “You attack me.”
The Recruit took some urging but eventually, he swung at Horus. In two moves the Recruit was on his back with the point of the wooden sword at his throat. Horus picked out five more Recruits and demonstrated how dangerous the wooden weapon was before stepping back.
“This is a gladius,” he repeated. “I can kill you with it as easily as I can with its metal cousin.”
The squad of Legionaries who helped the instructors appeared. Two of them at each practice pole soon had the Recruits running the first drill against the air. Optio Horus walked from group to group until he saw one recruit practicing left-handed. It was the big farm lad.
“You. Come here,” he growled.
Alerio jogged over holding the sword in his left hand.
“You can’t defend a shield with your left hand,” Horus explained. “It’ll throw off the entire unit. What’s your name?”
“Recruit Sisera, Optio. I understand,” Alerio replied. “I was favoring my right arm but if you insist, I’ll use my right.”
“Do it,” ordered Horus. He watched as the lad switched hands. He was as fluid in the drills with his right as he’d been with his left.
After all the Recruits had proven rudimentary skills, he directed them to begin striking the poles. A line of Recruits was queued up at each pole. On his signal, the Recruits near the poles began the first drill.
He didn’t have to look to see who was doing it correctly. He listened to the tone of the wood striking the poles, the rhythm of the strokes, and the speed of the assault. None of the recruits had it right.
They went through almost an entire rotation before a pattern emerged. Some Recruit at one of the poles had the blade singing a battle song. As the practice gladius beat out an almost perfect tempo, Horus turned. Recruit Sisera’s wooden blade was dancing and smashing the pole. But the Sergeant became alarmed.
“You. Come here,” Horus called to the Recruit.
“Yes, Sergeant?” Alerio responded.
“Get to the medical tent,” the Optio ordered. “That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir,” Alerio replied. “But really, I’m fine.”
Horus squinted at the farm lad. One of the Optio’s eyes quivered and the veins in his neck plumped up. Alerio recognized the danger signs. He spun on his heels and headed for the medical tent.
Chapter 34 - A Little Jog
The morning passed with the training Century rotating through sessions on the striking posts. Most of the Recruits could barely lift their training gladii or their right arms after hours of wielding the heavy swords. They were ordered to stow the gladii in the tents and report back to the practice field. To a man, they were hungry and tired, and it was only mid-morning.
“Good morning Recruits,” another of the Sergeant said. “I trust you all had a good night’s sleep. I did, but I need a little exercise. Let’s go for a jog. Shall we?”
As if by magic, Corporal Thornernus, and the other Sergeants appeared. They adjusted the lines so the Recruits were in even rows. Next, they positioned themselves at the sides and behind the Recruits.
“Attention! Right Face,” called the Optio. “Forward march. Left, stomp, left stomp.”
The training Century stepped off heading for the main gate. Before the first row reached the exit to the Post, Recruit Sisera jogged up and fell in to the rear. His head was wrapped in a fresh bandage and the sleeve over his right shoulder displayed the bulge of another wrap.
Clay Warrior Stories Boxset 1 Page 7