` Father meant the one we call Hadrian 's Wall . I 'll tell you about it later . It was built long ago , across North Britain , to keep out the Painted People -- Picts , you call them . Father had fought in the great Pict War that lasted more than twenty years , and he knew what fighting meant . Theodosius , one of our great Generals , had chased the little beasts back far into the North before I was born . Down at Vectis , of course , we never troubled our heads about them . But when my Father spoke as he did , I kissed his hand , and waited for orders . We British-born Romans know what is due to our parents . ' ` If I kissed my Father 's hand , he 'd laugh , ' said Dan . ` Customs change ; but if you do not obey your Father , the Gods remember it . You may be quite sure of that . ` After our talk , seeing I was in earnest , the Pater sent me over to Clausentum to learn my foot-drill in a barrack full of foreign auxiliaries -- as unwashed and unshaved a mob of mixed barbarians as ever scrubbed a breastplate . It was your stick in their stomachs and your shield in their faces to push them into any sort of formation . When I had learned my work the Instructor gave me a handful -- and they were a handful ! -- of Gauls and Iberians to polish up till they were sent to their stations up-country . I did my best , and one night a villa in the suburbs caught fire , and I had my handful out and at work before any of the other troops . I noticed a quiet-looking man on the lawn , leaning on a stick . He watched us passing buckets from the pond , and at last he said to me : `` Who are you ? '' ' `` A probationer , waiting for a command , '' I answered . I did n't know who he was from Deucalion ! '
`` Born in XXXXX ? ''
Britain Clausentum Customs Deucalion Gauls Hadrian Picts War foot-drill years