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The sky was beginning to lighten when the lookout whispered down that he had spotted land, causing us to strain our eyes in the direction that he was pointing in the gloom. I imagined more than saw the dark bulk of the hills that rise almost immediately from the edge of the coast in that part of the world, and I exchanged a glance with Crispus, wondering if he was thinking the same thing. There just did not appear to be much of a beach for us to land on, but my hopes were that because of the darkness I was missing something, that there was in fact a sufficient beaching area for us. The chop had picked back up along with the wind so that men were back to retching again, but I kept my eyes focused in the direction we were heading, straining to pick up any details of the landing area. While I did, I called quietly to my Centurions arrayed about the deck, and began relaying instructions to them to rouse the men and get them ready to disembark. The plan was to land on line, with each transport holding a Cohort, with the First, ourselves, Third, Fourth, and Fifth scheduled to be first, depending on the condition and width of the beach.
In the darkness, I could see a blur of white foam off to the right, the hiss of the surf pounding the rocks carrying on the wind to our ears. I felt my throat tighten at the thought of those rocks, waiting to tear the bottom out of the ship, and I automatically walked over to the hold to peer down at my men huddled below. Gazing down at them sitting miserably in the fetid darkness, I sensed someone’s eyes on me and I turned to see Vibius staring balefully up at me. Despite myself, I grinned at him, and he mouthed an obscenity, causing me to realize that it was almost full light if I could read his lips. Blowing him a kiss, I walked back to my spot at the bow of the boat, staring landward. I was able to begin making out more detail, finally seeing the beach we were heading for and I bit back a curse. Essentially, the beach was lodged between two promontories of rock that jutted out into the sea, and it was plain to see why the beach was undefended, since it appeared to be suicide to try guiding any number of ships between the teeth of those rocks. Not for the first time, I wondered at Caesar’s confidence and questioned if it indeed was hubris, although I could also see why he chose the beach, because it presented a wide enough front for almost the entire Legion to land at once, provided every ship managed to steer past the rocks. I stood motionless as our own boat slid past the rocks to the right, no more than a hundred paces away, and it was not until we were safely past that I realized I had been holding my breath. Once it was clear we were safe, I turned my attention to preparing for the landing, watching as the men stood and gathered their gear up, making themselves ready. Since the decks were packed, the men in the hold were forced to wait for the men topside to go over the side before they ascended the ladder. This was the reason why I had ordered that the Centurions, Optios, and signifer of each Century be the first over the side, so they could stake out a spot for their units to assemble. The beach was deserted, and I thanked the gods for the small blessing that there would be no opposition, calling the news down to the men in the hold.
“At least it won’t be like that fucking beach in Britannia then,” a voice called out.
“You’re right about that,” said another man. “I almost fucking drowned that day, and had to worry about one of those Brit bastards taking my head off."
“That’s because you’re such a short-ass that was the only thing showing above the water,” the first man shot back, and there was a rumble of laughter.
By rights, I should have told them to shut up, but I had learned that at times like these, humor went a long way to easing the pressure of what was about to take place, so I let it pass. It was only a couple moments later that I felt the crunching of the bottom of the boat, followed by a lurch as it slowed to a halt. Instantly, I moved to the side and swung my legs over, since I would be the first of my Cohort to hit the beach. Looking over my shoulder I roared, “All right you bastards, over the side! We’re not paid by the watch! Centurions, get your parties formed up on the beach. Make sure there’s enough room for your sections! I don’t want anyone standing in the water because you didn’t count your paces correctly!”
Then I leaped down, gasping despite myself when the shock of the water hit me. There was a flurry of men slipping over the side and I heard the splashing behind me, followed by the inevitable curses as the cold water hit men in their most sensitive bits, but I was already wading ashore. Looking to the side, I bit back my own curse as Crastinus grinned and waved at me; we had a wager about who would be the first on the beach, and he had beaten me by several feet. That did not help my mood, and I cursed at what I thought was the ragged performance of my Cohort as they came streaming onto the beach, looking for their Centurions and Optios, each of them bawling out their Century number. The men spilled off the boats, dripping water and squeezing out the hems of their tunics as they shuffled into their spots in formation. It did not take us long to get formed up, partially because of our experience, but also because there were so few of us left. At times like this when I could graphically see the toll the years of fighting had taken, I was struck by a wave of sadness, thinking of all the comrades that were not there to take their places. Compounding the problem was that an outbreak of the bloody flux had swept through camp in the weeks before we had arrived, so despite the 10th being spared, the other Legions were hit hard. The average strength per Legion was barely 2,400 men; we were just a little better with 2,800 men. My Cohort could field 305 men, and the First Century, my original unit, was down to 47 men standing on that beach. It was a sobering sight, but I would not have traded one of these men for ten new tirones. What we lacked in numbers, we more than made up for in experience; years of campaigning had weeded out the weak, the slow, and the unlucky. What was left was the fighting core of the Legion, the men who had always borne most of the burden, even when we were at full strength, so it was with the utmost confidence that I took my place at the head of my Cohort and waited for the command to step off.