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answer to what was happening to him.
Shit! The whole deal was absurd. What the hell is this? Are the gods out to
screw me? I have always been a good and loyal soldier. What's turned the world
upside down? Why have all these things happened to me? Why? Why? He was alone
in the cell, but a face came up into his consciousness. That Hebrew.. .
Yeshua.. . Jesus. .. whatever he was called. Nothing has been the same since.
He moved restlessly, and as he twisted his legs, a small stone in the floor
touched one of his feet, sending a fresh spasm of pain lancing through his
feet and legs, and a moan broke through his.lips. The pain which until then
had settled down to a deep, hot throbbing was instantly freshened. But a
curious thing happened. He was more concerned with the questioning in his mind
than with the pain, and he regained control of himself.
-He would have to face it. His world was over. The tribune is going to expel
me from the legion..
The thought was shocking to Casca. How could it happen to him? Why? Why are
all these things happening to me? Have I become something that I wasn't? Then,
who am I?
He was lying in the dirt of the stockade cell, and it was not the best place
to wrestle with fate, but the thought of leaving the legion was the most
appalling thing that had ever come into his mind, and here it was, bolder than
the rat that stared contemptuously at him from the opposite corner. Being a
legionnaire was his life. It was what he was. It was the core of his being. I
could handle the punishment of the penal battalions, but to be thrown out of
the Tenth....
The rat was joined by two others. They crouched in the dark, eyeing Casca . .
. like the three Fates....
But Casca had no mind for rats. He spat at the three. "Piss on you," he
said... and closed his eyes and dreamed of the glories of the Roman legions.
From that time as a child in the Tuscan hills, when he watched the Tenth pass
through on their way back from Gaul, Casca had wanted to be a legionnaire. And
his Uncle Tontine had served with the great Julius when Julius put down the
rehellion of the Belgae tribes on the far banks of the Rubicon... was there
when the most fierce of that tribe of warriors, the Nervii, fell upon the
Seventh and Twelfth legions and almost destroyed both as effective fighting
forces, killing all their officers. Now, those were days of glory!
The Nervii had hidden all their women and children in the deep forests of the
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land and had fallen on Caesar with a force of over sixty thousand tribesmen.
They routed his cavalry, which was unsuited for duty in these dank woods, arid
surrounded the Seventh and Twelfth legions. Caesar himself was forced to take
up a shield and strike against the barbarians like a common soldier. When the
Tenth legion came upon the scene and saw the danger to Caesar, they attacked
with such vigor that they turned back the Nervii even though they were
outnumbered more than twenty to one. With the example of Caesar's courage,
they fought like madmen. Yet, even with Caesar leading them, they could not
force the Nervii from the field of battle.
Those brave and fanatical fighters died where they stood. Out of the sixty
thousand who fell upon the Seventh and the Twelfth, less than five hundred
lived to see the night. And only four of the Nervii leaders survived. For this
victory the Senate ordered that sacrifices and celebrations should be held for
a period of fifteen days to honor Caesar and his legions. Never before had a
votive of this size been awarded.
Casca let the thoughts of his mind flow back through the years of his own
service. The army had been his home, not just symbolically, but, after his
family was wiped out in a pestilence, in reality as well.
The scene came up in his mind of his leaving... flames.. . the~ smell of
burning straw.. . the crackle of the blaze. After he had made his final
offerings to the Lares and the Penates, the household gods, he had set fire to
the roof of his house as the town wise women had said he should to destroy the
evil spirits within.
It was the last time he had listened to the advice of women. He had turned his
back on them and the village and walked to Livorno where he enlisted in the
service of the Empire. His was a man's world from then on. What was it the Jew
had ....... You are what you are. .. that you shall remain. What the hell was
wrong with being a soldier?
From the beginning it had been a good life for Casca. The days of training and
discipline were like a tonic to his mind. His hours were too filled to allow
much time for grief over the loss of his family which, like all normal men, he
had loved dearly. Now the service was his family, and Casca, like others
before him, discovered the joy of discipline. Shit! What could civillans know
about the order and discipline of military life?... Almost before he knew it,
he had finished his basic training and was being assigned to the Seventh,
stationed on the frontier separating the Germans of the Marcomanii from the
Helvetians. He liked the duty, for Casca intuitively grasped the importance of
military force. The legions of Rome were all that prevented a continuous war
from being waged between these ancient enemies. Yes, it had been a good duty.
Here he had tasted his first blood in the heat of battle, and here he had
learned the wisdom of his leaders' training programs.
Like the power of the Roman square...
On a one-to-one basis, in a fight against the monster Germans, the German had
the advantage. The Roman was much smaller and weaker, and the great sword of
the barbarian would usually win out; one German could always defeat one Roman.
But when the square was formed, and the legionnaires had the support of their
comrades, training and discipline won out time and again against vastly
superior odds. The barbarians lacked discipline, and when the battle began,
many of them became afflicted with what they called the "berserker rage" in
which it was not uncommon for them to use "the fountain of Tyr," one of their
war gods. When a barbarian had his forearm or wrist lopped off, he would point
the spurting stump into the face of his enemy, trying to blind him for just
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