Free Marching With Caesar: Conquest of Gaul by R. W. Peake

intention of pairing.
     
    Vibius whispered, “Well, at least this part is easy. Why don’t we duck in now and claim our spots while the rest of them are arguing?”
     
    Which we immediately did, to the protests of some of the others, Didius most notably and unsurprisingly. However, the two brothers, seeing us, quickly followed. I selected the spot across from the Sergeant nearest to the door, with Vibius taking the spot next to me, the second man to the left. The brothers headed for the two cots directly across the doorway from Vibius and placed their gear on them, claiming the space as theirs. They were followed by two others, who claimed the spots at the back, next to the brothers, and it was then I began to notice something that did not make sense. There were a total of eight cots, but there were eight of us already, plus the unnamed Sergeant, and the Pilus Prior had told us that one more would be joining us. That made ten men, but only eight spots. Vibius caught on as well, and we were looking at each other in a puzzled manner when we heard a new voice at the entrance to the tent. We both turned to see another Legionary, wearing a uniform identical to us, with the exception that his helmet had a flowing black horse tail on top of it, the tail spilling down near his shoulders.
     
    “So, apparently someone can count,” he said laconically as he stood in the doorway.
     
    He was a well-built man, in his mid-twenties it appeared, with even features and cool grey eyes that appraised each of us. His gaze lingered on me, taking in my size and he pursed his lips in a silent whistle, but did not say anything to me. Instead, he turned to the whole group and announced, “In case you haven’t guessed, my name is Lucius Calienus, and I’m the Sergeant of this tent section. I was a member of Pompey’s 1st Legion, and was promoted to help fill this Legion out with some men who knew their ass from their elbows. And judging from what I’m seeing in this lot, I might as well kiss my ass goodbye because I’m as good as dead the moment we go into battle.”
     
    This did not set well with me, but I kept my mouth shut.
     
    Calienus walked into the tent, standing in the narrow area between the cots and said, “So I see that you, or at least some of you” he turned to nod in the direction of Vibius and myself, “were catching on that there seems to be a problem with the numbers in this tent.”
     
    Not sure how to address him at this point, we contented ourselves with just nodding.
     
    “Well, you’ll be happy to know that you’re correct in your assumption, so there may be hope for some of you yet.”
     
    Turning to the outside to the remaining man, he motioned him to come inside. Having seen that Scribonius had grabbed Artorius, despite the early signs that Artorius might be a weakling, I assumed that Scribonius must have decided that Artorius was the lesser of two evils. Didius walked in, and I have to say that he looked a little upset that he was not picked, although he did not say anything about it.
     
    Calienus said to Didius, “So you’re the odd man out, neh?”
     
    Didius nodded, and Calienus laughed, but while it was not necessarily a cruel laugh, it still obviously rankled Didius.
     
    “Maybe you’re just slow to make friends. Or,” he became serious, “it means that you’re someone I have to keep an eye on. Either way, you’re out of luck, neh?” Without waiting for an answer, Calienus turned to the rest of us, and explained the mystery of the two missing cots.
     
    They were not missing at all. Instead it meant that at any given time, there would be two men on some sort of duty, at least once we finished training. Even during training, there would be at least one man on watch on our assigned sector of wall, so that at some point, someone was sleeping in your cot while you were out on duty. During training only one would be missing, requiring that someone slept on the ground, but in order to be