Exercitatio

"Men are slower to recognize blessings than misfortunes."

- Titus Livy The History of Rome, Books 1-5

Days after the fiasco that was the senate meeting, Mark Anthony finds himself facing the view of the fields outside the southwestern sector of the city. Across the Aemilian bridge, he awaits for the potential applicants in the area to be later known as the Pagus Ianiculensis. Found there was a hastily put together station, that featured 2 tents to be used to register those who wish join the legions. In the relative silence, Mark thinks back to his conversation with Julius the day prior...

"Marcus, under the Dominātus Reforms, I will establish a new system for recruiting. It shall be named "Dilectus pro Omnibus", recruitment for all."

Julius presents a piece of parchment filled with the many details of the training regime he prepared for the reforms, outlined from day 1 to day 28...

"You are to be the "Doctore" for the first batch of potential legionnaires. I trust that under your guidance that those who apply shall follow through with the training..."

"For you possess the many qualities I seek from a professional soldier. Lead them by example, march along with them, carry weight with them, sweat and bleed with them. Show them what they could become, show them what they should become, a true soldier for Roma to be proud of..."

Taken aback from the sudden task assigned upon him, Mark Anthony replies in a doubtful tone.

"I understand dictator, though, you expect much from me and far too much from the citizenry. I have my doubts regarding the retention of the recruits, as it stands, is it not far more likely that they give up after the first day?" 

He takes a glance at the parchment given to him by Julius before continuing...

"While I myself am not familiar with the "constructione" sessions that you have listed here to be held every other day. These training regimens that you have planned are difficult to expect from the soldiery today, much less should it be expected from those who have not an ounce of training..."

Julius simply lets out a chuckle, replying.

"Worry not Marcus, men desperate enough for anything will go above and beyond what is expected of them. Especially if you present to them what they desire most."

He shuffles around some documents before continuing...

"Give those who simply arrive there a small portion of the food that is promised to a fully fledged legionnaire, and as you progress through the day's training, trickle in the rest whenever you see fit."

Julius gazes towards the window as he assures him...

"At the end of the day, lead them to the castra, present to them the lodging that they have been promised. From then on, I can almost guarantee you that they follow through with the training."

Back to the present, as he finishes recalling the conversation. He is met with the sight of a crowd of about 600 men awaiting registration. Upon close inspection, Mark Anthony notes on the rather skinny figures that these men have. Most of them wore what seemed like tattered rags, some not even having sandals. It is not outlandish to conclude that only the dregs of Roman society have gathered here, all those who have nothing else truly left. The most desperate of the desperate.

It was then that Mark Anthony realized what Julius was implying...

"I see...these people have no choice."

He composes himself before addressing the crowd, gazing upon the faces of the men. In many ways now, he understands what drives them to such actions, to such untested and risky choices. Mark Anthony reaches for a sack and saddles it upon his back, walking down from the elevated base of the tents to meet the men on ground. To him it was a simple gesture, but to others it was an act of virtue. By this action alone, a handful of men already found themselves motivated. 

"What is this absurdity!?"

They think to themselves. Never before have they seen someone of such stature and rank within Roman society, purposefully present himself as an equal to the common people. Thus, as much as some may have been in awe, many also doubt this action as an attempt to hide his true two faced intentions.

But as it stands, not a single word was communicated to the men from the top of the podium. Only the simple words...

"Grab a sack, and carry it along with me. You only need to follow..."

They attempt to follow the instructions, those who have enough strength to shoulder the sack do so with a bit of difficulty. While those who are unable, drag the sack across the ground. Mark Anthony leads them to the base of the hill, waiting for them to gather before explaining.

"Inside the sack is a portion of grain that was promised, what to do with it is up to you."

Mark points to the sack saddled behind his back.

"I am sure you have noticed the weight of the sack, If you wish to proceed with the tests, line up an prepare to walk."

He signals to the other lictors to help facilitate the lines. 

"We will march up and down this hill until I am fatigued."

These words rattled both the applicants and the helpers. Immediately, some started to dread what was to come.

"If you drop the sack, then the food and your application is forfeit. You may attempt again next time." 

The once silent and obedient crowd quickly responded with complaints directed towards Mark Anthony. They thought that such rules are absurd. In their eyes, forfeiting the application AND the food was cruel play at their desperate lives. To them, Mark was simply asking for the impossible. But their pleas were ignored.

"Those who succeed will be given another portion of grain, this will repeat until sundown."

Wasting no more time, Mark Anthony begins to march uphill. The men quickly prompted their sacks off the ground, almost instinctively. None of them wanted to lose the food, some considered just running off with the sacks. The idea was quickly abandoned however, they figured that they definitely cannot outrun trained men while carrying their sacks. This did not stop some of the men from trying, all of whom were caught mere moments from trying. As punishment, their sacks were taken and they received a beating afterwards.

Witnessing this sight, those who composed themselves from deserting felt a cold sweat. None of them wanted to carry such a weight for hours upon hours, they expected to be given handouts...instead...they were given a choice. Will they march? or Will they starve?

...Their answer was clear...

Hours pass and fatigue quickly reached all of the applicants. Legs shaking and vision blurring, one of the men collapsed on the way uphill. He was quickly taken off by two lictors, they were about to record him as "Failure" before Mark Anthony interfered, telling them...

"His sack never touched the ground, he has yet to give up..."

Bewildered, the two complied with the rather puzzling words. They dragged the man into the shade to administer basic aide. Never could the two have imagined that he was only the first of many...

At last the sun has set, all of them let out a sigh of relief as they thought the ordeal was finally over. All of their backs were sore and their feet were certainly riddled with blisters. It was painful....so...so...painful, never in their lives have these people experienced such an exhausting afternoon. Sure they got their food, but they can't help but question if it was all worth it in the end. A heavy wave of doubt blanketed the group, so far, none of them wanted to continue on with the training. Fixating on how much suffering they had to endure today, they questioned whether of not this "training" would even result in them becoming soldiers.

While the men were catching their breath, some of those who have passed out earlier woke up mortified. They assumed that they were automatically disqualified and dreaded the thought that all of their effort today would have been for nothing. Breaking the tension, a tired but resolute Mark Anthony announced proudly.

"Congratulations, you all get to keep your food. Now, follow me. I will lead you to your quarters."

This announcement should have brought elation and a smile to all of their faces. But the beleaguered and broken men only fixated on the fact that there was more to do...

They shambled mindlessly following Mark Anthony, in their minds, they secretly cursed his name and that of Julius.

"They have done nothing but torture us!"

When they reached the quarters, Mark made one final speech to dismiss the men. None of the words could reach them at this moment anymore. In the dead of night, their thoughts finally settled in, and to the surprise of everyone, they no longer saw the night sky as they fall asleep, instead what they saw above them was a roof over their heads...

Collectively, they all remarked...

"Ah...how warm..."