Chapter 6 - The March

Chapter 6 - The March Camp became a hive of activity now as the Felix VII legion prepared to march north to provide reinforcement for the fifteen legions already stationed there -- eleven along the Danube and four along the Rhine. The Roman army functioned like a well-oiled machine and the Felix legion was no exception. It consisted of over 5000 heavily-armed men divided into ten cohorts which each had at least 480 members divided into six centuries of 80 to 100 men. The first cohort of the legion, which contained the best soldiers, had five double centuries of 160 men. Each century was led by a centurion, the lowest commissioned officer, who was a man promoted from the ranks on the merit of his service and leadership. Centurions worked hard to rise to a higher level, as each legion had various grades of centurion. Officers above the rank of centurion were commissioned from outside the legion and drawn exclusively from the two highest levels of Roman society. The general in charge of a legion had to come from the upper senatorial class and his next in command, the legate, from the upper or lower senatorial class. The other officers, the six tribunes, were from the gentry just under the senatorial class. Maximus was elated at the prospect of leaving Hispania for the first time in his life. He longed to see more of the world and someday hoped to visit Rome, but now he was heading in the opposite direction, deeper into the wilds of the northern provinces where German tribes were threatening to overrun the Danube and Rhine Rivers and invade Roman territory. The troops were excited to be finally moving again and camp was struck in very short order. Every man had a task to do and every man did it expertly. Goodbyes to loved ones including children and common law wives were brief and by mid-morning the legion was on the road north, a road that had been constructed by legionnaires just like themselves many years before. The procession behind the golden eagle standard stretched for miles -- thousands of marching men and boys, hundreds of cavalry and officers, dozens of wagons drawn by oxen containing provisions, mules loaded down with heavy bags of supplies, herds of sheep and goats, cackling chickens in pens, and magnificent and terrifying weapons of destruction including massive crossbows, ballistas and onagers. The procession also included other personnel need to keep an army like this functioning: clerical staff and legal staff, engineers, surgeons and veterinarians, blacksmiths, carpenters, stonemasons, and many other tradesmen. Maximus carried his own possessions and food over his right shoulder like the soldiers, who also carried their rations, heavy armor, weapons as well as tools -- a backbreaking sixty pound load. He marched alongside the boys who were still too young to be soldiers but they held their heads as high as any man in the legion. There was very little chatter among the walking soldiers as they concentrated their footing on the bumpy stone roads and on preserving their breath for the difficult climbs. As much as possible, they marched in order, alert for any sign of danger, ready to arm and defend as necessary. But, Maximus thought it ludicrous that any marauding band might attempt to attack such a massive, well-armed and trained legion. The journey north was difficult as the terrain soon turned mountainous and the air thinned and grew cooler. It bothered Maximus less than it did some of the others as he had been raised in similar terrain. Some of the passes were very narrow and many of the inclines were quite steep causing an alarming slowdown in the loaded wagons. When one started to roll backwards dragging the terrified animals that were hitched to it, Maximus joined the men who leaped behind the wagon to push it up the steep incline. Just before dusk fell every day, after about a twenty mile march, camp was pitched. The boys helped the men dig a deep ditch all around the camp and raise a mound behind the trench surmounted by a palisade of sharp stakes. Inside the protected compound meals were cooked then there was a brief amount of time to relax before much-needed sleep. During these moments Maximus sought out his

friends, especially Lucius, the tow-headed boy of whom he had grown very fond. Maximus and Quintas were already growing tall and strong with deepening voices but Lucius was still very much a boy compared to them. He often lamented his small size and lesser strength, afraid that he would not meet the height requirement for a soldier, a height that both Quintas and Maximus had already surpassed. He wasn't as strong, either, and Maximus watched him carefully for signs of fatigue, picking up his pack and hoisting it over his free shoulder when Lucius seemed to falter. For the next sixty days the legion labored north, crossing deep rivers and high mountains, passing through woods and swamps, until they reached the dark, verdant forests of the northern provinces. At last, within site of the wide Danube River, the Felix legion made a permanent encampment and rested for a few days before preparing for the possibility of war.

Chapter 7 - Darius Life in the army could be monotonous but not when the threat of war was at hand. Every day for hours the centurions put their troops through their paces, preparing them physically and mentally for battle. Absolute obedience to the officers was imperative and discipline was strict. In battle the legion must move as a single body -- the ranks cohesive, the turns correct and quick, the soldiers' eyes and ears ready for signals and their hands ready for action. They practiced forming, on command, a single line, double line, wedge, circle, square and the 'tortoise' which was the special square for storming city walls in which the men covered themselves with a carapace of shields. They fought mock battles that were almost as fierce as real ones, with soldiers sometimes being injured if careless. For hours Maximus and his friends watched the drills, his companions reveling in the violence, but Maximus watched the patterns, listened to the commands and observed the authority of the centurions. One evening, Maximus worked up the courage to approach a centurion that he particularly admired, named Darius. This man had the ability to get the most from his troops without threat of punishment, and he got as soiled and tired as they did, often taking up arms to demonstrate a move or get down in the dirt to draw out a strategy, and he knew every soldier in the legion by name. Darius sat outside his tent tonight carefully cleaning his weapons. His face was fearsome -- lined with livid scars -- but Maximus was not intimidated. "Sir?" Darius looked up and smiled. "Maximus." Maximus was slightly taken aback. "How do you know my name, sir?" "Oh, I make it my business to keep my eye on potential soldiers. I like what I see in you." "Thank you, sir. I admire you greatly too." Darius laughed at the boy's candor. "What can I do for you, Maximus?" "I want to train to be a soldier, sir. I feel that I am ready." Darius considered him, taking in his strong shoulders and arms. "How old are you?" "Almost fifteen, sir." "Almost?" "In a few weeks, I think." "Mmmm. Well, you are still very young but you appear to be in fine shape. Tell you what. If you can prove to me that you are ready, I'll be quite pleased to work with you." "How do I do that, sir?" "I'll devise a series of tests for you to take to determine your preparedness." Maximus was elated. "Thank you, sir." He started to turn away, afraid of offending the centurion by monopolizing his time. "Maximus, sit down here." Darius gestured to a seat beside him. "You can help me clean my weapons." Maximus scrambled onto the low wooden stool and accepted the heavy wooden shield from the man. "Tell me, Maximus, why did you choose me to be your tutor? There are more senior men than me that could help you."

"I like your style, sir. I like the way you talk to your men and work alongside them. They admire you, I can tell. They fight for you because they admire you, not because you threaten them like some of the others do. Some of the others don't seem to want to get their clothes muddy." Darius stared at the boy in amazement. This was no ordinary youngster thrilled by the prospect of spilling enemy blood. He remained silent and let Maximus continue. "And the patterns that you develop -- the strategies -- they are quite brilliant, I think." This boy was observing maneuvers? "Well thank you, Maximus." They sat silently for a time, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Then Darius said, "Where are you from, boy?" "Spain, sir. In the hills. I was born on a farm there." "How did you come to be with the Felix Legion?" A shadow crossed the boy's face. "My family died in a fire, sir. I was spared. I don't know why--" "Sometimes we are spared for a reason, Maximus. The gods have plans for us." Darius was thoughtful for a moment than added, "Go on." "I was sent to live with my great aunt and uncle but I didn't fit in there. When I saw this legion camped by the sea one day, I simply joined up. I knew it was what I wanted to do." Darius put his gleaming sword aside and turned to face the young man beside him. He said seriously, "You realize, Maximus, that you really shouldn't be here. You rightfully belong in the auxiliary army. That's where boys from families like yours start training before they join the legions." Darius smiled kindly when he saw the boy go visibly pale under his deep tan. "Maybe there is something that can be done about that. Maybe. Why don't you just learn to be the best soldier you can and leave the rest up to me." "Thank you, sir," Maximus whispered, shaken at the thought of having to leave this legion. "Now run along, boy, and gets lots of sleep. You are going to need to be well prepared for your tests. We'll start in two days. Come to see me after drill on Friday." "Yes sir, and thank you." Darius just nodded, dismissing the boy as he turned his back and fiddled with the tent flap. But the young man was still in his thoughts. Darius had never seen any boy quite like him.

Chapter 8 - The Test No sooner had Darius sat down after drill on Friday evening then Maximus was at his side. He hadn't forgotten the boy but had hoped for a few moments of rest. He smiled, though, as he pulled himself to his feet again, grabbed a woolen blanket, and gestured for the boy to follow him. He led Maximus outside the encampment to the edge of the wide, dark Danube river. "Can you swim?" "Yes sir!" "Then swim half-way across and back." Maximus stared at the distant shore and tried to judge the half-way mark. "Just swim," said Darius. "I'll tell you when to turn around. Pace yourself. The idea is to do it, not to do it quickly." Maximus sat down and started to pull his boots off." "Leave them on. You don't take your boots off in battle." The boy nodded and wadded into the water up to his knees, shuddering as the coldness raised goosebumps on every inch of his skin. Then he broke the surface in a shallow dive and came up with arms cleaving the water and legs kicking hard. "Slow down!" came the shouted command from the bank and Maximus settled into a strong, steady rhythm. He kept his face in the water except to breathe and occasionally check his location. Darius soon became a speck in the distance. He was not too tired yet but he was growing steadily colder and the water around him was black as tar. Apprehension welled inside Darius as it became increasingly difficult to see Maximus in the waning light. He could hear him, though, and his strokes still sounded strong and steady. Darius cursed his

stupidity at making the boy do such a dangerous task so late in the evening. It was growing steadily colder and darker and the centurion decided to call Maximus back despite the fact that he was not likely half-way out. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted the boy's name. The steady strokes continued. Darius yelled again, louder this time but he could still not make himself heard. What had possessed him to push Maximus so far? To see if the boy could do it? To see if he would do it? Darius waved frantically to bring the boy back. He continued to swim. Darius was joined on-shore by men from camp who had been attracted by his the frantic shouts. The centurion quickly explained the situation and all of the men shouted Maximus' name now and waved. The big gray dog belonging to the General set up a mad barking. It was the barking that got through to Maximus' exhausted brain. He stopped swimming and tread water to try to get his bearings and was shocked to see how far from shore he was -- he was much closer to the farther shore, and the Germanic tribes, than to Darius. He rolled to his back and floated until he caught his breath then ordered his weary muscles to function again as he started back for shore. He would swim towards the barking. Relieved that the boy had finally turned around, Darius and others plunged into the water up to their waists prepared to pull Maximus out or go in after him if need be. Hercules paced the shore line still barking continuously. It was will power alone that forced Maximus' body to keep moving long after it had gone numb. His limbs became a machine that functioned without thought as he continued to drive through the water. As he neared shore, hands reached out for him. "No," shouted Darius. "Let him do it. He has come this far. Let him finish." His lungs aching, Maximus finally felt something solid beneath his feet and was dimly aware of other bodies surrounding him. He staggered onto the shore and dropped to his knees then was immediately pounced upon by Hercules who knocked the exhausted boy flat on his stomach. Maximus managed to roll over and clasp the warm, furry body to his shivering frame, his open mouth gasping for air while his face was bathed by long licks from the dog's wet tongue. Darius pulled the dog off and dropped the dry blanket over the boy then rolled him up in it. "Well done, Maximus, well done, boy." The centurion rubbed Maximus' hands as he looked with some alarm at the boy's blue lips and chattering teeth. Feeling much guilt, he supported Maximus' weight and led the boy through the darkness back to the centurion's tent. Darius ignored the questioning looks from the soldiers gathered around the fires and held his tent flap back for the shivering boy to enter while Hercules flopped down outside. He tossed a dry tunic to the him and gestured to a dark corner of the tent. Get changed. I'll be back in a few minutes. Maximus' shaking hands would not co-operate and it took a few moments to get his soggy woolen tunic over his head. He sighed as he slipped into the dry one then sat down and tried to pry loose the wet leather laces of his boots. He heard the tent flap pulled aside and looked up just before his vision was obscured by a blanket tossed over his head with a command to sit still. Darius' strong hands vigorously rubbed his hair then Darius pulled the blanket down to Maximus' shoulders and wrapped it securely around him. He handed a flask to the boy with the command to drink while he used his knife the cut the tight wet laces of his boots. Maximus tilted his head and let the liquid flow down his throat. Bolting upright he gasped as the liquid became fire and threatened to close off his breath. Choking and coughing he drew in great gulps of air to cool the heat in his throat. Darius laughed. "Just sip it. It'll warm you faster than anything will." Maximus hesitated but tipped the flask again catching the liquid on his tongue and letting a little at a time dribble down his throat. It worked its magic and he felt warmer quickly -- and a little lightheaded. His wet boots off, Darius wrapped the boy's feet in another blanket. Soon the shivering lessened then subsided and the boy's normal color returned. His dark hair curled wildly from the rubbing with the blanket and his blue eyes were clear.

"So," said Darius, "are you ready for the next test?" Maximus looked up with some dismay. "Yes sir." What now, he wondered? The centurion laughed. "I hardly think you need to take any more tests, my boy. You have proved your strength and honor beyond reproach tonight." He reached out and clasped a blanketed shoulder. "You did well, Maximus, you did very well indeed. Now, go to your tent. I'll arrange for you to get new boots tomorrow. These are pretty much ruined." "Thank you, sir," said Maximus quietly before he left, the blanket dragging on the ground behind him. Hercules jumped up and trotted beside the boy. On the way back to his tent, wrapped in the wooly warmth with a blanket of stars overhead, he tested the words 'strength and honor' on his lips. Darius stood staring at the empty doorway for quite some time, lost in thought. What this youngster had accomplished tonight was extraordinary. He would have to see General Patroclus soon.

Chapter 9 - The Conversation "I tell you, Patroclus, this boy is exceptional. He--" "You're not telling me anything that I don't already know, Darius." "Patroclus, he has leadership potential, this one -- real leadership potential." "I know that too." "Well did you know that he is from an ordinary family in the hills of Spain? His family had no connection with the army in any way. They were farmers." The general's hand stopped midway between the table and his mouth, the rich red wine in the glass goblet forgotten. "Were?" "They are all dead, Patroclus. Killed in a fire. I explained that he should have joined the auxiliary first and he became quite distressed. He wants to be here, Patroclus, and this army will need a soldier like him; a soldier who may be a leader one day." "That isn't a problem, Darius. If he's as good as you say he is, the boy can remain here." The General sipped his wine again then twirled the stem of the goblet between his fingers. "Then Maximus could even progress to centurion one day." Darius slowly set down his own wine glass and turned away slightly to stare at the dancing flames of the oil lamp on the heavy wooden table. The flickering light played across the centurion's face, emphasizing the deep scars that spoke of courage in by-gone battles. Patroclus placed his elbows on the table and leaned towards his centurion, curiosity clear in his face. "Is that not what you wanted to hear, Darius?" "Yes, of course, sir." The General's eyebrows raised at the sudden formality in the centurion's tone and address. He seized one of the man's wrists forcing their eyes to meet. "Well then?" "It just doesn't go far enough, Patroclus. Not for this boy. He'll rise to the level of centurion in no time, I'm convinced of it. Then he'll be promoted to the highest level of centurion -- and then have nowhere left to go because he's from a low-born family. It will be a terrible waste of his potential. "And what do you feel that potential is?" "General," came the firm reply. Now Patroclus was truly astonished. He rose to his feet and paced the width of the tent and back, his brow furrowed in thought, hands clasped behind his back. "You can tell that a fifteen-year-old boy has the leadership potential to be a general? Darius met his general's stare but said nothing. "From what? A swim in the Danube?" demanded Patroclus with a hint of sarcasm. "That and much more." "Well don't waste your time even thinking about it because it will never happen. You know as well as I do that he would have to be from the senatorial class to become a General." "Sir, it's a fact that some men who have held great power in Rome were not born to that class. How did they get to be political and military leaders?"

Patroclus moved to stand before a white marble bust of Marcus Aurelius and said in a quiet voice. "I think Marcus Aurelius saw something in Maximus too. He seemed quite taken with the boy." Patroclus sighed. "There is something that could be done but I will have to get the emperor's permission to even pursue the issue. I expect to see him back in this area before too long and I will talk to him about it when I feel the time is right." Darius knew that he dare not push the issue any further. "Thank you, Patroclus." Still staring at the likeness of the new emperor, Patroclus merely nodded and the centurion knew he had been dismissed. Just outside the tent's door he heard the general call his name. He poked his head back inside. "Sir?" "Start training the boy as a soldier but go easy on him. Remember his age, Darius, and do not risk his life again." Slightly chastened but elated, Darius grinned and hummed the tune to a dirty ditty as he headed back to his tent. He would personally never advance past centurion in the Roman army but he longed to contribute much more. So, his contribution would take a different form -- that of training a young man Darius was convinced would be his own superior officer one day.

Chapter 10 - The Lesson "Uh!" grunted Maximus as he swung the wooden sword once more hard against the thick post creating a ringing vibration that ran up the length of his arm and into his shoulder and neck. He repeated the exercise over and over, first forehand, then backhand until the pain in his arm was too much to bear, then he switched hands and continued until both sides of his body screamed for relief. Only then did he stop for breath. Darius had told him that this exercise was adopted from the gladiators who fought in the great arena in Rome for the pleasure of the crowds. Maximus could not imagine that -- an arena that held over 50,000 people screaming for death -- death for no purpose other than the pleasure of the people. Maximus groaned as he leaned back against the post he had just attacked. He would pay for this again tonight, but the pain was lessening every day as his arms and shoulders grew stronger and bulkier. He momentarily closed his eyes and did not see the shadow that loomed over him until the sudden coolness on his face alerted him to a presence. Startled, he opened his eyes and vaulted to his feet, body tense. He came face to face with a grim-looking Quintus who also held a wooden sword in his hand. "Quintus, you startled me." "You should never let your guard down. If you were a real soldier you would know that." Maximus snorted. "Quintus, this is just a practice not a battle. Obviously I wouldn't do that in a real battle." "You're too young to be doing this. You have to be sixteen -- my age -- to start training as a soldier." "Darius said that the general gave me special permission, Quintus. I would think you'd be pleased for me." Quintus stared at the bulges in his friend's arms that didn't seem to be there even a week ago. He had watched Maximus and Darius together for some time now and jealousy gnawed at his belly. This Spaniard was receiving far too much attention. "I start training with a real sword tomorrow." Maximus smiled and tried to relieve the tension between them. "I won't be ready for that for quite some time, I'm afraid. You're way ahead of me in training, Quintus." "Not that it matters, anyway," said Quintus. "I heard that they're soon going to weed out the boys who shouldn't be here and send them to the auxiliaries, so you and Lucius won't be around much longer." Quintus' jibe had the desired effect and he watched with satisfaction as the blood drained for the younger boy's face. With one last smug look at Maximus, Quintus turned on his heel and strode away. Stunned, Maximus leaned against the post, the wooden sword dangling limply from his hand. "And you call him a friend?" Maximus whirled to find Darius standing in the shadow of a huge oak tree.

"Come here, Maximus and sit in the shade for a while. We need to talk." After the two had settled themselves -- Darius on a stump and Maximus on the moss-covered ground at his feet-- Darius continued. "You are not going anywhere, Maximus. The general intends to allow you to stay with the legion." A huge shuddering sigh escaped the boy. "Thank you, sir." He was quiet for a moment then asked, "And Lucius?" "Lucius will go to the auxiliary." Maximus moved to his knees ready to protest his friend's fate but Darius stopped him with a raised hand. "He's not big enough and strong enough to be a legionnaire, Maximus. Surely you can see that. But he will be put to good use in the auxiliaries. He's needed there. We received news yesterday that Rome's eastern borders have been invaded by the Parthians. They have overrun Syria. Emperor Lucius Verus is heading there along with four legions to boost support in that area and there will no doubt be war. General Avidius Cassius will be under his command. Cassius himself is the commander of all of the eastern legions and also has control of the auxiliaries. He has requested any support that we can offer so all young soldiers who are not quite legionnaire material will leave tomorrow for the east. You will stay here and continue your training." In a tender gesture most unlike Darius, he reached out and stroked the young soldier's hair and smiled ruefully. "Don't let them see you cry, Maximus. Your guts may be ripped apart with grief, but never let them see you cry." "He's my best friend." Maximus' voice was small as unshed tears made his throat ache. "I know he is, but friendships are strange things in armies. As much as I care about you, for example, one day I may have to order you into battle knowing that there is a good chance you would die. But I would do it. Maybe someday you'll have to do that too with men you care about. That's one of the most difficult aspects of being a leader, Maximus. You can't let your fears and your grief show. You have to be strong for the men under your command. They are frightened and rely on the emotional strength of their leaders to make them strong. If those leaders show fear then the men are lost. Do you understand me?" Maximus nodded slowly. "There is a great deal to learn about leadership and it goes far beyond being the best fighter. And the reason I am spending so much time with you, my young friend, is because I sense that you know these things instinctively. Somebody just needs to put it all in perspective for you." Darius grinned, "And that's me." "Did you arrange for me to be able to stay with the Felix Legion?" Darius shrugged as if it were nothing. "Uh huh." "I owe you a great deal." "You owe me nothing other than to be the best you can be. I have great hopes for you, Maximus. Don't disappoint me." Maximus shook his head solemnly and leaned back against the gnarled trunk of the lofty oak, comfortable in the reassuring presence of the older man.