There were in this legion two centurions, men of the greatest courage and who were already approaching the first ranks, T. Pullo and L. Vorénus. There existed between them a continual rivalry, and each year they disputed the rank with an ardor which degenerated into hatred. As they fought stubbornly near the ramparts:"What are you waiting for, Vorenus?," said Pullo. "What better opportunity to prove your mettle? Here, here is the day that will have to decide between us."
At these words, he comes out of the entrenchments and rushes towards the thickest of the fray. Vorénus could not contain himself then, and, fearing the general opinion, he followed him closely. Arrived near the enemy, Pullo throws his javelin and pierces one of those who were advancing in a crowd on him; he wounds him to death:immediately they cover the corpse with their shields, direct all their arrows against Pullo, and cut off his retreat. His shield is crossed by a dart, which sinks into the harness.
The same blow diverts the scabbard and stops his right hand which seeks to draw the sword:thus embarrassed, the enemies envelop him. Vorenus, his rival, rushes to defend him against this danger. The Barbarians immediately turn against him, leaving Pullo whom they believe to be out of action.
Vorenus, sword in hand, defends himself in the midst of them, kills one, and begins to push back the others. But carried away by his ardor, he encounters a hollow and falls. Pullo comes in his turn to free him; and both, without injury, after having killed several enemies, return to the camp covered with glory. Thus, in this combat in which they fought, fortune balanced their success, each of them defended and saved his rival, and it could not be decided who had prevailed in courage.