Deva Victrix

I am Gaius, of the XX Legion of Rome Stationed at Deva Victrix. My Legion’s emblem is the running boar I am a Mithras worshipper. Within our temple, His statue’s left hand grips a white bull’s nostrils Meanwhile, is right hands stabs it. A snake and dog stretch up to lap its blood A scorpion claws its genitals. A raven flies over its head Three ears of wheat emerge from the bull’s tail Torchbearers flank the slaughter scene. Then, Mithras and the sun god, Sol, Feast on the dead beast’s meat I am Gaius, of the 20th legion of Rome My trade is a bloody one Mithras was born from a rock If you wish to become an initiate, You must swear an oath of secrecy and dedication And answer ritual questions, correctly Our sacred Mithraeum has several altars For sacrifical use. It is set in a hidden cave That holds a secret spring. I have passed the soldiers’ grade in the cult of Mithras Beloved of the god Mars. I have passed through the ordeal of the pit Last year, I stayed in a fort in Pinnata Castra (Fortress on the wing) in Caledonia, Built by the men of Gnaeus Julius Agricola Its defence was a turf rampart faced with stone, An outside ditch, gatehouses on each side But there was a Dacian invasion overseas Legions were tossed like dice So here I am at the other end of the country! For my leisure, I visit the baths complex Our centurion insists we keep good hygiene No wonders have been spared in its construction! There’s a room for exercise There’s a room for sweating There’s a room with a cold pool There’s a room that is pleasantly warm There’s a room with a hot plunge bath There’s a room for communal shitting I like to visit the amphitheater south east of our camp, I go there to train, to watch the acrobats, wrestlers, The professional gladiators I bet a month’s pay on a retiarus. He was killed. Slight griefs talk, great ones are speechless I am Gaius, of the 20th legion of Rome My trade is a bloody one I lie with Vedica, a woman of the Cornovii Her folk are cattle breeders, very vain and proud She wears a fine gold torc around her throat Her coppery hair falls down in two thick braids Vedica worships the horned god, Cernunnos Her Latin’s poor, but she’s hot stuff in bed Although she’s hirsute and she smells of horse I close my eyes, pretend I’m back in Rome, With Caelina, my girlfriend from Ravenna Carpe Diem, as my mother says.