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Decanus Franco
I fought with Crassus for over twenty years ever since I joined this army. I know his ways and his strength, and above all I know his weakness. But we did it for him as he was one leader that I respected well. But not the Optio which handles us now. The idiot could not even hold his gladius like a Legionnaire. He is a disgraced to the Cohort. If its not for my fast thinking, we would be roasted over open fire till our skin dried up like paper. I saved his life more than once and he is still risking it. Even in the battle at Carrhae, he was running out of formation to seek the enemy until he was almost killed by one. But the arrow just took off a piece of his left thigh that he hides under his leather skirt now.
"Decanus, the men asked for their rewards." I looked at the Legionnaire who stands at my tent opening.
"Get it from the store, but tell them three cupful and no more. I don't them to die in their drunken sleep if the Chief changed his mind." The one who stood there let my tent. I can hear him shout his jubilation and the rest joined in. It not the old Legion anymore. Then none would dare to impose on any rewards. We take what is given and no more. I remember then well.
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"Franco, these men are a disgrace to the Legion. Looting and drunk are things I would not have in my ranks. Give them the lashes so that their memories would be jolted on how we act as Legionaries." My Option then speaks to me as he hauled in four of these disgraceful curs for me to punish. I told my men to lash them to the poles and bring out the lashes.
"You, Mento. Take the one on the far right. Give him your best." Mento looked at me and wanted to protest. "He is Legion and he shares the same wright as the others. No more delays. I would take the one on the left."
Every stroke was administered with full intent of removing their skin off their back. That is the way of the Legion discipline for the ones who rejects it or defiled it. I feel every stroke as though it was on my own back. The punished feel more than me, as they are awaken to feel the pain when they are unconscious. Not one stroke is without a scream for the mercy of one's mother or God. But today, I hear one for the mercy of his brother. Mine was his call of mercy as he is my younger brother, Gino. The fool was to joined the wrong crowd and got himself detained for this stupid conduct.
"Cut them down and send in the healers." I walked back to my tent and laid down my lash. Its coated with blood; my own brother's one. Mento came in and told me that he would live. But he would need care from the healer.
"Don't they all need it? But they would not stopped their acts. Give them one more season, and they may lashed there again. I seen those faces before." But Mento stopped me.
"He was not. He was arrested as he was there, but I smelled no wine on him. We lashed the wrong man for the wrong reason." Mento defends him well. My brother could be wronged by being there but he was not drunk. But he was stupid to get arrested.
"Franco, your brother tried to help in his fellow Legionnaire from the punishment. He was caught because he helped them."
"Gino is a Legionnaire. He stand and fights as one, and with one, and for one. The Legion does not leave anyone behind. He knows that well. If they get punished, so does he."
"You are mad,Franco. You worship the Legion so much that you even ignore your brother's plea for mercy." Mento walks in disgust leaving me to my thoughts. Yes, I am crazy.
And I still am.
If not for my crazy move, the Fifth Cohort would had all died that day in Battle of Carrhae. I led them with the Centurion in tow; he was injured in the shoulder and legs. I dragged him to safety with the rest of surviving Cohort to the hill side. There we re-formed and await our attacker. We number only fifty eight but we fought like hundreds.
Stand, formed, stabbed, withdraw, draw shield and wait. It was the same as we did in training. For one of us down, we took ten of them, but in the end, we are down to only twenty eight standing, and the rest dead or injured. The enemy at bay came to parlay for a truce. We agreed and we knew we would not the last the next round. I was senior officer standing. I called for us to lay down our arms. We will fight another day but not today.
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Mento, I listened that day to the cries of the men in pain. I was in pain and I decided otherwise for the Legion. I declared surrender for their lives. Why did you step in to take the lance for me? Was it because I am the only one who can bring the Legion back to safety?. The lucky bastard died that day in the Battle of Carrhae.
I reached for the jug under my cot. Its a strong brew and I would sleep well. Frag the Legion for tonight. If they come and attack, please send me to my death while I am asleep. I am too tired to be Decanus.
Decanus Marco
Damned the man to call me for this trip. I wanted out and I asked him and the Optio. They gave me the refusal just as I refuse then to be one with the Legion. I was a happy with my trade as cut-throat alley robber, but they have to hold my family as hostage to get me to join. Cursed me to be the first male born as required by their laws to serve in the Legion. I went on my mother's wish but I shall leave on my wish. A wish I have to fulfilled for fifteen years now, as I am still in the Legion.
I should have left but I did not. I want to be told I can but no one said it. Its all the refusal and I am still here. True the last years of work has been to my liking but I am still a Legionnaire; wearing her uniform and carrying hr shield. Except I do not swear my allegiance to Rome or people. I am Legion but of a different name. Ours is now the Fifth Legion of the East. Our allegiance is to the gold we are paid in return for our services. We the mercenary arm of the Legion now.
"Marco, you asked the Optio? He is the last person to tell you to go. If you like, I could approve it for you. I do not have the release scroll but I will give you a case of gold. It enough for you buy a land and erect your family for life." He dangle the offer after we been through so many conflicts. Every time he is faced with an adversary like today, he calls for me. Now he tells me I can go. He is a bad liar. I did not answer him as we are on our way to see someone on this new war.
We have arrived.
An Inn in the along the Silk Road in the middle of the desert.
Just two of us to meet who I know not of, and how many.
Just like before the Battle of Carrhae.
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"Marco, we are there. What a splendid place for a battle. No thick woods to hide in. No hidden trenches to cover their trail. Here the barren land of sands and dirt. I would love the coming battle. We will showed them." That was Centurion Pilates. He is not new but an experience fighter of many campaign. He had killed more than I have, yet he never take credit for them. He tells the Praetor that the men killed those men while he is leads from behind, but he lied as he was always in the front. Yes, we were equal in number, superior in weapons and strategy as we assumed then, but enemy was superior on many ways. They annihilated us from our full strength to a third left.
I stood there with Pilates; side by side to fight the Parthians'. The arrows we deflected with our shields until we find it weight is making us heavy to carry on. He dropped his and charged the archers. I shouted him to hold back but he would not listen. He just charged them with his gladius swinging like a madman.
"No! That is not the way." I charged forth and saw the others follow me. They also followed the Centurion as he is their leader. We lost some but we reached the line of Parthians who were retreating. We caught up with them and we slaughter them down to the last man. He let was to live to see his own limbs cut off. Then we left him there for his other warriors with the tales.
But Pilates did not make it.
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The Centurion dismounted and walked into the Inn ,while I followed behind. We are greeted by an Inn with some weary travelers having their rest here. The Centurion walked to the Innkeeper and did his inquiry while I looked at the people in the Inn.
Four tables are occupied but only three distinct group of people by their dressing. The table to my left is occupied by three travelers of the male descent. They are all dressed in the garbs of the desert people but their blades are of a different type; its a long sword favored by the Easterners. Or we sometimes called them the Han. The two table on my right sits two men in head scaff with their Persian garbs and scimitars at rest on the side. Those I seen many a times on the road and they are not out place for here. The last group number five among them, but they also have the desert garbs on but they carry no blades but the long half blade and staff. I seen it mentioned before of the people who come from across the Eastern sea handles this long weapon.
I sense trouble and its not from us but among them three groups. We are just the unwary travelers in the conflict.
"Marco, our guest has not arrived. We will stay here tonight and await him." I followed the Centurion to the available table in the middle of the hall. The waiter came and took our order for food and drinks. It has been a long ride and I am more to eat my spread but my mind tells me that my left hand should not leave my Pugio unattended. It was to be an uneasy meal.
I slept the first watch while Marco took guard. We were told to be expected on arrival but we did not expect so many of them and none has come forth to introduce themselves. Nevertheless the bedding looks better than our regular cots. I washed off the dirt with the available water but it dry when I had completed.
"Marco, I am sorry as we run out of water. I would get some more." I took the pail and was to leave the room but Marco stopped me.
"If I am to die tonight, let me be with the dirt of the Legion and not a clean body. You take your rest, while I have my drink in peace without an officer present over my shoulder."
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