We march behind the Eagle

WE MARCH BEHIND THE EAGLE

BY BOB BASE

copyright © 2016 Bob Base

All rights reserved.

FOR MARLENE

and two little people

RYKER and ELYSE

Table of Contents

CHAPTER I  ROME

CHAPTER II  FIELD OF MARS

CHAPTER III  THE JOURNEY NORTH

CHAPTER IV  THE JOURNEY CONTINUES

CHAPTER V  THE RIVER

CHAPTER VI  THE FOURTEENTH

CHAPTER VII  MARCH TO INVASION

CHAPTER VIII  INVASION

CHAPTER IX  WAR

CHAPTER X  THE CHASE

CHAPTER XI  BATTLE IS JOINED

EPILOGUE

GLOSSARY

CHAPTER I ROME

Marcellus walked along a narrow street of the lower Subura looking for something to eat. It was just after dawn and the city was just coming to life as people were beginning to walk the streets as they began going about their various business. The shop owners, whose premises formed part of the ground floors of the Insulae in this part of the Suburra were already up and busy preparing their alcoves for the days trading. Some had opened up the shutters of their entranceways and were busy setting up their once clean awnings by propping them up on their wooden corner stanchions which held the awnings out from the shop fronts and these cloth awnings were originally intended to shield the shops variety of displayed goods from the bright Sun. Although the Sun would not penetrate these alleyways as it once did as the Insulae were two or three stories high along both sides of this particular street and as such the street was now a shadowed narrow alleyway but the awnings were still put out ever morning and taken up every night as they told customers that the shops were open and trading.

He passed a shop entrance whose owner was putting up a better quality, although still faded blue stripped awning which he spread over simple tables that he had set up half in the street and half into the shop and Marcellus could see from the cut outs in the table tops, and by the colour of the wooden ladles that were placed next to them that this shop sold pressed from the Olive and as he drew level with the entrance he saw in the dimness of the shops interior the woman of the house clearing away the bed coverings and the thin straw mattress that they had slept on the night before, and even as they put them into a dark hallway at the back of the shop the Keeper was finished with his awning and was now bringing planks and wooden trestles from the back of the darkened room and these he quickly set up along one badly crumbling off white plastered wall on the left of the one room shop, and scrawled onto this wall in charcoal was the prices for his oils and for the raw olives that he also sold. Two small amphora of oil was then brought to him by the woman of the house and the Keeper placed these horizontally onto a plank that now spanned the trestles and one by one he chocked these Clay vessels sides to stop then rolling from side to side with two wooden triangles of wood, he then lifted the back of each of the vessels and placed a small length of wood under them and this now angled the amphora’s slightly forward allowing their contents to pour easily without any physical effort when they were un-stoppered. On the floor under the amphora he then placed two copper, or brass pots, and these would catch any drips or spillages from his sales, and at the end of the day the oil from these pots would be poured back into the Amphora.

The Keeper looked out into the street and saw him stood there in his holed and soiled tunic and knowing this would not be a client he indicated with his head to go and Marcellus knowing that the next move would be verbal or even physical began walking again, and then the toes of his bare feet splayed as he stepped onto a patch of rotting filth which had been left to decay on the street. He never even winced as he walked on along the dark alleyway as he knew that this would happen at least twenty times this day as he walked all of the streets of the lower Subura looking for work, or a hand out. He knew though that he would get nothing of worth in this area as this was one of the poorest parts of the city and he was only here on these particular streets because the gang that ran this part of the Subura had been broken up by the Vigiles a few days ago after they had been stupid enough to accost a Patrician, and not just any Patrician, but a broad stripe member of the Senate, or so he had heard, and as a result the streets here were free to walk without intimidation from the gang members. But the downside of it was that the shops were now without protection and they were open to anyone that had the balls to walk in and try and rob them or demand payments for protection and this would go on until a new gang formed and took control, or some of the larger gangs from the upper Subura saw the vacuum and moved down into this section and began extorting coin off of the shops and businesses once more. It was the only reason he was here because if you stole off a protected shop the gang who were being paid coin would hunt you down, and broken bones was the least that you could expect and if you were known to them as a thief and had been caught once before you would probably end up floating face down in the Tibur, and to make sure that the area knew it was this particular gang that had caught and killed the thief they would nail his balls to the shops lintel with a sign declaring who their previous owners were and what he had did to offend the gang.

As he turned the corner at the end of the street he passed into the Via Sorbere. Why it was called the street of Sips he had no idea? But then most of the names of the warren of streets on the Lower Subura were lost in time and sometimes they seemed to change with the annual Magistrates elections. Especially if the newly elected official decided to partake in a public service like to fund the building of a small fountain, spigot, or trough, or even place a small alter in the wall of an intersection, something that was noticeable but not too expensive was the usual thing that was done for the Plebes of the Subura. Of course whatever was done would be done in the name of the Magistrate and even f he was very rich the official seeking election could only fund small inexpensive works as that was all that was allowed by the Senate as all of the city’s major public works could only be approved by the two Consuls of that year, if it was to be paid for from the public purse. Or the Emperor if he was to pay from his own purse, and in effect this coin would come from the public purse as well. But these works would carry their names which would be inscribed into the facia of the building and they would never accept the name of a rising Magistrate to stand out on a large public building, no matter that he was rich and lived on the Palatine and could afford such largesse’s It was only the Emperor, Consuls, select Generals or those in particular favour that would be allowed to construct the more spectacular public works, like new public baths, Temples or Aqueducts to name but a few and even those of the Patrician order that did gain permission to build had to have the Emperors name included in the inscription. As a result of this grip on public buildings most Consuls and Patricians who wanted to gain Public favour now paid for Games or racing in the Circus to be staged which was far less hazardous than trying to get your name higher on the Pediment than anyone else, and if you did get your name on the public building as Emperors changed or the favour once high had waned and would result in the original name on the building, statue or other public work being chiselled out and replaced. Statues were also defaced and it had gotten so expensive that now only the heads were cut off and changed.

Most Magistrates that came near the Subura though were only on their first step on the road to be the first man in Rome and they all strove to one day enter the Senate but to advance they needed the occasional Plebe votes in their century and tribal blocks and so they would happily do the little things around the various districts to get their names remembered, after all a lead spigot or a length of water pipe that led from the source to an area that had no public water, and then a small Bronze head connected to its end provided water and all it took was some lengths of beaten lead pipe and slaves for labour and which cost very little in materiel or manpower, but it could make a lot of difference to those living in the Insulae of the Subura. Although most now had access to water and those that had been overlooked had merely gone and tapped into the nearest Aqueduct or public fountain but an awful lot only had access to the small public fountains at the various intersections. Bring water closer to their hovels and they would be eternally grateful.

He passed a small alter that was set into a niche in the wall halfway along the street of Sips and saw his target. A small bakery that had already set up as a shop and there were people already entering the small one room shop to purchase the eight segmented round loaf which cost an ‘As’ and was the standard loaf in Rome. Those with only Semi’s or the lowest coin the Qudrans could buy a half or a quarter loaf respectively, but the reason he was on this particular street with his rumbling stomach was that the baker put a small table of small half sized loaves just inside the door and he had reasoned that if he was swift of hand and of foot he just might be able to snatch one and so he walked past the open shop font and saw that it had at least three clients buying the bread and these were holding the bakers attention. He turned and walked back past the shop before turning again and he began to run and as he ran past the entrance he snatched a loaf and ran as fast as he could along the street and around the next corner.

Fortuna was not smiling on him this day and as he turned the corner he ran straight into three club armed Vigiles who were responding to the sudden shouts from around the corner as the baker began his pursuit. One man grabbed Marcellus by the scruff of his threadbare tunic whilst a second swung his club into the back of his knees. Marcellus folded and his prize loaf fell out of his hand and rolled into the street and as the pain radiated ups his thighs. The Baker came around the corner shouting out insults and pointing at Marcellus, who was being held by firm hands on his shoulders which also pushed firmly downwards holding on his knees and he was then resigned to his fate as he knew that his life had probably just ended as the games were due to start in the Circus in a week or so and the sponsors agents, or the Editor, would be looking for criminals to fill the midday execution programmes, and long gone were the days when it was prisoners of war, or non citizens that were executed during the interval, now it was anyone they could ensnare, and for the smallest of crimes, some would even find themselves in the games for something they may have said in the wine shops when they were full of the Grape. At least as a Roman citizen he would not be crucified as this was reserved for non-citizens. He listened to the tirade of the baker who had recovered his Loaf and was using a grimy woollen square to wipe the filth off of the bread that it had picked up off of the road when he had dropped it. Happy that he had gotten most of the filth off he tucked his woollen cloth back under the tie that held his Flax apron around his waist. Marcellus could do nothing and as he was held in the kneeling position he then thought he could hear a thump, thump of a drum he then thought that he was imagining it and that what he was hearing was the sound of the pain as it moved up and down his legs. But no his pain was subsiding but the drumbeat was getting louder and then he heard the crunch of studded sandals on the roads litter strewn stone surface. He looked to his left and as he watched the corner five soldiers and three tunic-clad slaves who were fell in behind them marched around it. Two of the soldiers were beating thin pigskin covered Barbarian drums with a single bulb ended stick. In the centre of the drummers was a man in full segmented armour and a horse hair crested helmet and he was carrying a pole with a scarlet square of cloth attached to its cross member which was swaying to and fro as he marched and it was held aloft about five feet in the air. Marcellus could read and he was also numerate, something that his dead parents had taught him and his sister before the sweating had visited their Insulae one night, and death had taken all three of them but not before the Pustules had appeared and these boils led to nearly four days of suffering before they went to the ferryman. He had not caught the plague himself but without coin for the rent, and having no way of earning it he was thrown out of their one room hovel and onto the street, whilst another family moved into the room behind him and he had headrd no mention of the word Plague uttered as he had been pushed out.

He read upon the swaying red cloth the number Fourteen and above it was an embroidered Capricorn.

Behind the cloth carrier strode a man in full mail armour his chest was covered in discs and his Helmet gleamed in the dappled sunlight that was now illuminating the street. His horsehair crest was set across his helmet transversely and Marcellus knew that this man was a Centurion, in his hand he wielded a twisted vine stick and his lower legs were encased in polished Greaves. There was another armoured soldier behind him and in front of the two slaves who wore the two plain brownish red tunics with a darker sash of materiel running up one side.

Marcellus knew that this was a recruiting party he had seen them before on the streets and as they began to pass the Vigiles the Centurion looked him directly in the eye and then turning his head he said something to the man behind him who detached himself from the party and strode over to them. The soldier looked down at the still kneeling Marcellus and then looked at the three Vigiles.

Crime. He said in a stern throaty voice and the Vigil nearest to him looked at the soldier and replied.

Theft of bread from this baker. But it has nothing to do with you soldier so Fuck off. The soldier scowled and in one swift movement his Gladius came out of its highly decorated sheath and its point nearly pierced the Vigiles throat.

Would you like to repeat that you piece of Cac. Marcellus smiled and the soldier saw this and nodded to him. The soldier then reached into a small pouch tied to his silver plate decorated belt and pulled out a Denarius and with his free hand he flicked it towards the baker who plucked it out of the air in one deft sweep of his hand.

Will that pay for the bread, and your trouble bread maker or would you like to stand and argue with me?

No soldier that will do nicely, and with a bow he began to take his leave.

Hey bread maker the breads paid for so I suggest you give it to my new friend here. The baker returned and quickly handed Marcellus the bread before again turning and scuttling off.

And now you three sons of a Roman brothel bred whore there is no crime here so you can Fuck off. Two of the three Vigiles looked whilst the third with a sword to his throat remained perfectly still. The two shrugged their shoulders as there was little they could now do as they had no authority whatsoever over any soldier of the Legions and they also knew that he could probably stick one of them and the killing would not even be enquired about. They were all unarmed apart from clubs as Swords and knives were illegal on the streets of Rome, apart that was the trade knives like butchers or fish sellers. But if you were caught with even these knives or cleavers secreted about your person you were bound for the Tullianum and probably the games after that. But if you were a person of substance a knight, or Patrician, then you would pay a fine and that was if any Vigile had the balls to actually bring you in front of the courts for trial after all the magistrates were of the same social class and they all knew each and other most were actually friends.

The two Vigiles were now smarting not because they had lost a criminal but because they had just lost a good bounty from the games agents who were paying for all criminals. The games were always profitable for the Vigiles and they worked extra hard to clean up the streets on the lead up to the games. But no matter as there would be others that they would catch, and next time they would make sure that a Soldier on recruitment who like the Praetorians could and did wear weapons on the streets was nowhere near. Those Cac Praetorians, the Vigile on the left thought as he followed through with his train of thoughts, those prancing peacocks who thought they could do anything that they wished without fear of prosecutions or punishment, and he spat as there was no love lost between them and the Peacocks and they the Urban Vigiles, all thanked the Gods that the Praetorians mostly kept away from their areas where they made their profits and he also gave thanks that the Legions were not allowed within Rome’s walls except for the partaking of a Triumph and even then they did not wear their Gladius’s, only their Pugios. But they did carry their Hasta spears or Pilums whence in procession, and he remembered that a few years ago Germanicus had celebrated a triumph and the Legion cohorts had not dispersed to their camp outside of Rome on completion of the procession. Instead they had filled the wine shops and drank the free grape provided for them by Germanicus and the result of mixing legionaries with Grape within the heart of Rome after being cheered for hours by adoring crowds was that forty Vigiles and six Legionaries had died in the fighting. After that particular incident the Senate had ordered that only a specific number of cohorts could march in any future Triumphs and they were to march right out of the city on completion of the Honours and were to partake of the free Grape within the controlled perimeter of their own camp.

The Vigiles on the left stopped thinking and took his hand off of Marcellus’s shoulder and he spoke with eagerness now in his voice.

No soldier there is crime here. Away we go boys. And as they turned to go the Legionary withdrew his sword from the Vigiles throat who quickly put the flat of his hand up to the place where the sword had actually pierced his skin in order to stem the trickle of blood that was flowing, and then staring once at the Soldier he turned on his heel and followed the other two who were making their way down the street which had now filled with people as they had gathered to see what was going on.

Stand up lad. Marcellus stood shakily as the back of his knees still hurt.

"Well my lad I see by your note of introduction that you are a citizen and that you meet the requirements to pass Probatio. I take it you are past the age of the Bulla?" Marcellus nodded he had entered the realm of manhood some two years past.

In that case you can join the cohorts of the Fourteenth Legion without us having to inquire as to your full ancestry. So what say you boy are you ready for booty and a life in the Legions of Rome. I can promise you three full meals a day with good grape to wash it down and with good pay so that you can jangle coins in your purse and impress the ladies. So what say you boy? Marcellus was not so much confused as surprised and he knew that he had no way out as the soldier had bought him out of what would have been certain death in the Games, and so like an idiot he nodded again.

"Good my boy and from the look of your dress I take it that you have no home and so I presume that you have nothing to collect or say goodbye too. So you may now come with me and watch us enlist the scum of Rome into the finest of Rome’s legions and after the days recruiting we will go to our camp on the field of Mars, which as you may know is no longer by the temple of Apollo on the Tiber as our sacred ground has been built upon by the money lenders of Rome. So we now have ground allocated to us just outside of the city and within our small encampment you can get clean, for on the morrow you will take the Sacrementum and receive the mark of the legion."

Marcellus was quiet as he followed the soldier towards the recruiting area, which he had been told by the legionary that for today it was to be at the foot of the Capitoline near the intersection that led up to the rear of the temple of Jupiter. They had stopped just the once on their way there and the soldier had purchased two bowls of red Grape for them and as they drank the cool grape Marcellus ate his bread and when they had finished the soldier had smiled and had informed Marcellus that he could pay him back for the bread and buy him a bowl of Grape when he got his first pay award. To which Marcellus readily agreed.

Arriving at the intersection at the foot of the Capitoline Marcellus saw that a small table had been set up and laid out upon it was some good quality Roman paper and some silver coins, the soldier walked straight up to the Centurion and whispered in his ear the man nodded in response and his horse hair crest swayed as he nodded like the swells he had once seen many years ago when he had looked out to sea from a cliff top when he had accompanied his father to labouring job in the coastal olive orchards north west of Rome.

The centurion came and stood in front of him and Marcellus saw that each of the nine discs that covered his chest and abdomen was different, and all of them seemed to have the scenes from the past when Gods walked with men and all of these discs were fastened to a leather strap harness so they could be displayed without moving, and in batches of three. Some were silver and some had been gilded whilst two were a mixture of both. The Centurions sword was worn on the left whilst the other Soldiers wore their’s on the right and he knew it was another sign of rank. On the Centurions right side was an ornate sheathed dagger that he knew was the Legions Pugio, and this dagger was what all soldiers were issued with as was the short Spanish sword the ‘Gladius.’ All of the soldiers in all of the legions took great pride in decorating their belts, sword and dagger scabbards, with various Plaques and engraved or stamped plates of silver and brass. On one of the centurions crossed waist belts he wore the distinctive Apron which was also decorated with discs and the end of the long groin straps was finished in silver Terminals Marcellus knew that the centurion would not always wear his apron, unlike the men as he had a choice of armours that he could wear and it would not sit right with the leather stripped Pteryges skirted Submarlis that they wore under Cuirasses, on the centurions shins he wore embossed Greaves and in his hand he carried a twisted Vine stick which again was a sign of his rank.

"Well son I have been informed that your ‘Note of introduction’ has waved the need for the scribes over there to record your family ancestry and to check the census to find your family amongst the recorded lists of your particular voting tribe within the Tabularium and as you can imagine this can take some time these days as the position Censor was abolished by Sulla, curse his name. And as a result we now have to rely on scribes who have two fingers up their Arse and another in their mouths. So step forward lad and give my scribes your full names and they will have you make your mark, or if you can write then do that and take a silver Denarius as your signing bounty. Oh! one thing if I were you I would eat that partially eaten round of bread that you are holding to your chest as soon as you can for we will soon have some men signed up who will happily steal the coin for the ferrymen from the dead and they may be as hungry as you and I expect that some that I recruit this day will soon feel the cut of the leather on their backs. I will give you some words of advice lad. Listen to what you are told and do it without question, if you go into battle never turn your back unless ordered to. If you desert and you are caught you will be beaten to death by your own Contubernium and if you are caught breaking the Legions laws take your punishment like a man, heed my words and you will have a good life in the Legion as we are family. Many of my men have made their marks for another twenty years on top of what they have already served and who knows you may never witness war as the Fourteenth is at present in garrison on the borders of Germania and all is well along the frontier." And with those final mixed words he turned on his heel and walked towards another man who the Soldier that had helped with the Vigiles had snagged. Marcellus thought about running and then he looked at the dirt that still coated some of the crust of the bread round and his bare filth coated bare feet and he thought to himself that it was either back to the streets with his wandering and begging for crusts, the sleeping where he could find, without being found and beaten by the Vigiles who would do that in order to move him on and the general grime and hardship of living from day to day, and he knew that all of this was bound to end up with him being caught again, and this time the Gods may just turn away from him and leave him to face the beasts in the circus.

He stepped forward and took the inked wooden Stylus and with its sharpened point he signed his name, only twice having to re dip the thin rod into the ink bowl and as he finished the scribe threw some fine sand over the signature before tipping the paper over another bowl and letting the sand fall into it. He then checked that the signature was readable and that the ink was dry. Curious he then looked at the name again and one eyebrow rose and still holding the paper he called the centurion over and showed him the paper. The centurion came over to Marcellus and once more stood in front of him.

Is this your name lad? Or do you jest with us? Because if you are you will feel my Vitas stick on your back. Marcellus looked at the knurled vine stick in the Centurions hand and he knew also that the centurion would quite happily use it to club him.

No sir my name is Gaius Marcellus Vetus.

Who was your father? And no lies boy.

My father was Gaius Lucius Vetus. By now the other two soldiers interest was piqued and they came and stood behind the centurion.

Tell me boy was your father any relation to Lucius Antistus Vetus?

Marcellus nodded before answering. I believe sir that he was my fathers uncle, or at least my mother said that he was. But my father always hushed her as there was bad blood between them. I am not really sure as before the plague took my father, mother, and sister, my father was into the Grape and he refused to talk to much about our family. But I do know that my relation to Gaius Antistius Vetus is by blood and that is all I know sir.

The centurion shook his head before again speaking.

So a sweeping from the Suburra happens to be related to a line of Consuls and the Queastor of the divine Julius Caesar himself. He turned around and shouted towards the table. "Scribe go to the Vetus domus on the Palatine and inform the master of the house what we have found, and if he has no interest then so be it. But remind him that once this boy takes the Oath on the morrow he belongs to the Legion." The scribe hurried away and Marcellus was left wondering if his father was more than a Grape swiller and a beater of women. He had never mourned him when he died and gone to the Styx as he had taken many a beating at his hands. But he did mourn his mother and his sister and he still did.

Here lad you made your mark. Said the soldier who had helped him with the Vigiles and he pressed a silver Denarius into his hand.  

CHAPTER II FIELD OF MARS

Marcellus awoke with the first sound of birdsong and he grabbed his old threadbare tunic that he had ben using as a pillow and pulled it over his head and shook it down over his naked torso, he then fished around in the semi dark of the well patched cheap goatskin tent for his thin knotted rope belt and finding it close to the woollen blanket that he had been given last night he tied it around his waist, and then standing as upright as the ridge pole of the tent would allow him he made his way to the flapped entrance and untying the leather thongs that secured it he eased himself through and out into the small ten tent camp. He stretched and looked around the camp area and already the central fire in its pit was lit and some slaves were stirring something in a large metal vessel that was suspended over it on an Iron frame. The pot was steaming as it was taking the heat from the naked flame beneath it and which were now flicking up its sides as the contents were heated to boiling point, and licking his lips he suddenly felt the urge and made his way to the latrine which was located behind a flat Flax screen and which had been erected in front of the trench for no other reason than to stop anyone walking into the two foot deep trench at night. He went behind the screen and squatted over the recently opened trench seeing that it was about twenty feet long but half had already been well used and had been backfilled and when the half that he was now squatting over was full of Cac and Piss it too would be filled and another section would be dug, and so on until the entire field had been dug shat in and filled. He quickly defecated and pissed at the same time and in font of him was a luxury that he had not seen in a long time and he grabbed the stick with attached sponge from the leather bucket and still squatting he wiped himself thoroughly before dipping the sponge back into the bucket of water and washing himself again, he had not felt this clean in months. Last eve when him and the other five recruits had marched into camp behind the standard they had been ordered to strip and the slaves had began to douse them in luke warm water and using rough wool flannels they had scrubbed and cleaned themselves until the Centurion was happy. They had then been fed with a Barley porridge and were given a bowl of watered wine and were told to sit around the camp fire where they were given more wine and whilst the were seated the recruits were told tales of glory, most of which had been suitably embellished by the tellers, until the sun had fallen off of the edge of the world and had been doused by Apollo, and as the Moon rose they had each been given a woollen blanket each and been told to go to a particular tent and to sleep, which had come easy for Marcellus.

He finished with his ablution and scooping out some Lime powder with a small wooden shovel he sprinkled it onto the Cac to keep the smell down and readjusting his threadbare tunic he went back to the camp fire and looked into the pot where he saw that it contained a thick creamy looking porridge and licking his lips he also saw that sat on some flat stones near the fire were rounds of bread which were warming as they absorbed the radiated heat form the naked flames. As he stood licking his lips the Soldier came to stand beside him dressed in a plain reddish brown tunic. He looked at Marcellus tutted once and walked to a larger central tent only to return a minute or so later Here he said "You might as well have yours now, all of you will be getting them before the oath anyway. Marcellus took the roll of materiel and he let the roll unfold naturally and as it fell towards the ground he saw that it was a reddish brown military tunic cut in the simple T cut of the military style, but this one was well stitched and the wool was of the finest grade that he had felt in a long time and it also felt as if it had been oiled. Marcellus pulled his own rag off and dropped it to the floor and quickly he donned this new one and looking down he saw that its hem hung below his knees. The soldier then passed him a two-inch wide leather Balteus which he saw was again new and cinching it around his waist he smiled. The Soldier then kicked his old tunic into the fire with one sweep of his sandaled foot where it flared slightly before smouldering and began to smoke as it was wool and did not burn as such but it would scorch and cinder and join the ashes in the pit. He then grabbed hold of Marcellus’s new tunic and pulled it up past the now cinched belt and bloused the top He then stepped back looked at his handy work noting that the tunic was now just below the knee at the front and if it had dropped too low Marcellus would have to get somebody to, or would have to hem it himself, but without armour on it looked to be about the right length for a military tunic and it would shrink slightly when it was washed in Urine anyway. It was another thing that distinguished men of the legions from civilians as the civilian population tended to wear there tunics on or above the knee whilst soldiers and veterans wore theirs below the knee Marcellus smiled and he now felt that he was becoming a member of a new family. He looked at the soldier and saw him eyeing his tunic and he could not wait to get the rest of his equipment especially the things that would mark him as a Soldier of Rome, like the studded and decorated Apron that the soldier wore on his own Balteus, and this apron he would find that he would wear at all times whilst he was serving, and only when he went into the bath house or into his bed would he remove it. It was the common soldiers badge of rank and they wore it with pride and it was also why they spent so much of their first pay awards on decorating it.

It was mid morning and all of the recruits were stood in a line and they were all now dressed in their new reddish brown tunics and as well as these fine wool tunics they had all been issued with underclothes, neck scarfs, foot wraps, and Caligae which was a thick soled and studded pair of sandals but they were stiff and unyielding and soon they would have to use the piss buckets to soak the leather in order to make it more supple. The spare clothing and the foot wraps would be put into their as yet un-issued leather packs. The foot wraps would only be worn in colder lands and they