A Mixture of Madness, Book II of The Bow - By Levkoff, Andrew Page 0,43
shields instead of these? It’s not just because they don’t want to damage the pretty paint. The wicker surrounds an iron center—they weigh half again as much as the one you just held.” I heaved a great sigh of defeat. “You want to tackle the likes of Herclides? You want to fight like a soldier? Then you’ve got to be fit like a soldier.”
As we walked back to Betto and Hanno, my brow creased. “Maybe we ought to go home and release the men I hired to take your places while we’re gone.”
“This ought to do for starters,” Betto said, shoveling the last of the dirt into a large canvas bag that Hanno was holding open for him. Malchus held the pole upright for his friend, who reached up and attached the bag to the crosspiece. “I’d say it’s close to 25 pounds. Maybe 30.”
“What do you mean, ‘for starters?’”
“A legionary carries twice that on the march, not counting weapons and armor.”
“And don’t forget the shield,” Betto smiled. “It hangs from the crosspiece on those rings.”
“Now, Alexander,” Malchus said, “shoulder that pack and we’ll start you off easy: five times around the track. Off you go. Well, Flavius,” he said, throwing his cloak on the dewy ground and sitting cross-legged upon it, “I hope you packed enough breakfast for everyone.”
“Two portions for you, one for me. As always. Hannibal, have a seat. What did you bring to eat for yourself?”
“I’m not hungry. Can I have that apple?”
“Only if you’re going to eat it,” Betto said, about to toss the piece of fruit to the boy. He checked himself in time. Malchus chuckled and spit an olive pit into the hole.
The Circus Flaminius was 800 feet long and 300 feet wide. Over the next several weeks I would memorize each brick, shop and pennant along its wide dirt oval. Every day, three hours before dawn, I trudged up the Capitoline and marched with my pole and its fertile baggage, a lost, lonely ghost in the black upon black shadows of the great stadium. My right leg, pierced by one of Sulla’s archers the day I met my master, grew quickly strong and its hindrance was imperceptible.
Recruits in full gear were required to complete 18 miles in five hours, then 22 miles in the same time. My responsibilities at home foreshortened my regimen, but within a month, I had become Heracles in his prime, or Milo of Croton, Olympic champion. I purchased a small, polished bronze mirror and secreted it beneath my bed, admiring my progress at the end of each day.
That was before Malchus and Betto took me off the blessedly level track and into the cursed hills. On the first incline, the stamina and strength of which I had become so proud fled like terrified children. The blisters and sores which had hardened to callus on the track were chafed and shredded anew. Muscles in my thighs and calves, corded and toned, found infant cousins I had never met, but who now cried out each night to make my acquaintance. There was no question of surrender. Come morning, the memory of Livia in Palaemon’s grasp or the wild moons of Velus Herclides’ eyes pitched me from my bed into the sweat-stained embrace of my cross. To spur me up the steeper hills, I dreamed it was not weighted wood I carried but Livia, heroically spiriting her away from mortal danger, some imagined, some all too real. I was so exhausted by bedtime I forgot to look in the mirror.
I was strong, bursting with stamina, and begged now to learn the offensive skills I would need to be of any use in a fight. My teachers scoffed and told me fighting was the least fraction of a legionary’s skills. I told them I did not wish to become a soldier; what I wanted to avoid was the feeling of total uselessness should anyone I cared about ever be threatened again. Almost simultaneously my two friends said, “Then you’ve got to learn to be a soldier.”
They taught me marching formations, basic camp construction and layout, how to pitch the eight-man contubernium tent, how to strike it and efficiently pack the mule assigned to each unit. I failed to see how this would protect Livia in a scuffle. Nor was I amused when Betto suggested I show the ones I cared about how to hide behind the mule.
One morning in early October they led me to the stables adjacent to the Circus Flaminius.