The witness halted, and Germanicus looked at me quizzically. ‘Yes, if you must. What is it?’
I directed my question at Augustus rather than Germanicus or Nicator. ‘What does any of this have to do with my client? He was serving in Spain at the time and was thousands of miles away from the events the witness describes. All here know of Julius Arminius’ treason and the despicable events that led to the destruction of the three legions. Why are we recounting them now?’
Germanicus stepped forward. ‘My lord, I only thought that a recounting of the events would help to be a frame of reference for all concerned, so all can hear how serious the prisoner’s complicity in the betrayal was.’
I shook my head and opened my arms. ‘But I contest that he didn’t have any complicity, so these events are irrelevant.’
Augustus growled. ‘I don’t see it doing any harm. Besides, I have heard some aspects that even I was unaware of. I think this is useful.’
I cursed inwardly. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Much as I had been reluctant to forestall Nicator’s tale, I disliked what I suggested next even less. ‘In that case, may I interrupt and correct any mistakes in the witness’ retelling?’
In actual fact, Nicator’s account had been amazingly accurate, and I would have been hard-pressed to produce a fairer depiction of events. But I wanted to sow the seed of doubt in Augustus’ mind that not everything this witness said was accepted wisdom.
Augustus grumbled. ‘Well, I suppose I cannot deny you that. You were there as well, after all. Sometimes recollections of traumatic events can become confused in people’s minds. You should know when the witness’ version strays from the truth.’
I thanked the imperator and signalled for Nicator to proceed, and he gave me a concerned look before continuing his tale. ‘It was only when we came down the mountain that the true scope of the betrayal became clear. After spotting the river in the distance that would lead to our allies’ camp, we—’
I held up my hand and said, ‘We couldn’t see the river from our vantage.’
Nicator looked at me uncertainly. ‘But I’m sure we could.’
I shook my head vigorously. ‘No, we were told it was there, but we definitely couldn’t see it.’
Germanicus sighed. ‘Does it really matter?’
I shrugged, hating myself for what I said next. ‘If he is wrong about this, he could be wrong about other aspects of the tale.’
Nicator’s face lost all colour, but Germanicus quickly covered for him and said to Augustus, ‘It is but a small detail and of no significance.’
Augustus nodded. ‘Agreed, please tell him to continue.’
Nicator started again, but I disrupted his rhythm whenever possible by making a small correction or passing doubt on any assertion that I felt able. My intention wasn’t to annoy the witness or my opponent Germanicus – something I was managing quite clearly on both counts – but to break the spell of Nicator’s words over those who listened. As he built up to Julius Arminius’ ambush of the legions, along the sandy path between the mountain and the high moor, I questioned Nicator closely on his knowledge of the deployment of the legions. This he only knew in general terms – not surprising for a man holding only the rank of centurion. So I slowly and patiently explained it to him, and to those listening. By the time Nicator described how Arminius sprang his trap, all sense of momentum and surprise had gone out of the tale, so it came across as a slight anticlimax.
By such an approach, I risked antagonising Augustus. But he seemed unperturbed by my interruptions. Possibly my corrections appealed to his pedantic nature. So I continued where possible, but I hated myself for doing it.
Nicator described the final breakout attempt by the trapped legions against the strong Cherusci palisades that the enemy had constructed to hold us. This assault was our last desperate gambit, against impossible odds, to try and escape when all knew the ultimate destruction of the Roman army was now inevitable. He told the court this was where he’d managed to climb over one of the Cherusci barricades and, along with a few others, make it to the woods along the far side. ‘Most of the others ran straight for the river, but I couldn’t join them. I’d twisted my ankle coming down the other side of their palisade. There was no way I could outrun anyone.’
Germanicus nodded. ‘So what did you do?’
Nicator shrugged. ‘I climbed a tree. Couldn’t think what else to do.’
I interrupted, ‘You managed this with a twisted ankle?’
He looked at me with a stony face. ‘Yes, I did. It wasn’t easy, but when you’re desperate, you can manage amazing things.’ He then added, in a voice like acid, ‘You should know.’
I did. I’d been there too. ‘You were lucky they never found you.’
Nicator’s voice dropped a level. ‘Yes, I was. I secured myself a firm position in the hollow of a bough of a great elm tree. I wasn’t far from heaped piles of dead, both Roman and tribesmen. Here I hid, huddled down in my hollow, and prayed to the gods that they wouldn’t discover me.’
I believed him, but I needed to cast doubt on his story. ‘I heard the Cherusci had trackers?’
Nicator turned to me, eyes hard as flint. ‘They did, and dogs too. I heard them barking and snapping as they followed my comrades down to the river. But they never came near me. I was too close to the dead. The smell over the next few days as the corpses rotted and bloated will never leave me.’
I swallowed hard. ‘So you stayed in your tree for a long time?’
For the first time, his voice began to break. ‘Yes, so I witnessed what those evil barbarians did next.’
I didn’t reply. I knew what was coming. If I’d thought my tactic of periodic interruptions had been successful in casting doubts over Nicator’s knowledge of events, the aftermath of the battle was all but impossible to dispute. My heart slumped as he told how he witnessed the German tribes sacrificing the prisoners they captured and the wounded they found still alive.
‘I heard their priests mumble prayers to their gruesome gods. I heard the men scream. I could see them cripple rows of prisoners and nail them to trees. You cannot believe the suffering I witnessed, the screams of pain, the mutilation of the living. I saw men disfigured beyond recognition, men I knew, had fought alongside.’
All in the room listened to him in mute horror, and I felt Aulus nudge me from behind. I knew he wanted me to disrupt Nicator’s account to break the spell of this horrific dialogue, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I’d seen what he described myself. I still heard Tetricus’ screams at night as they nailed him to one of those trees. I’d come close to being nailed to a tree myself. I remembered the stark terror, the inhuman cruelty of our captors. Since that awful day, I’d only ever told Numeria what I’d witnessed. I’d never had the courage to tell anyone else, not even Marcus, who’d saved me, or those closest to me. I couldn’t. It opened up the fear that I’d sealed down in the inner part of my soul. Yet here was a man bravely telling a room full of strangers what transpired in that dark forest. I couldn’t interrupt him if my life depended on it, or the life of another. I felt a tear roll down my cheek.
Nicator continued, remorseless in his account. ‘They had captured our civilians too. Those poor men and women who’d followed us through the forests, thinking we’d protect them. I heard them rape the women, butcher them afterwards. They spared no one, be they young or old.’
Everyone in the room was visibly moved. Each of the senators looked shocked, some horrified. Even Augustus’ stone-hard facade looked shaken by the centurion’s account. He asked me in a rasp, ‘Is this true, Aprilis? Did you witness what this man speaks of?’
I looked at Flavus first. He looked at me in mute horror, realising the depravity his brother had stooped to. I turned back to the imperator and declared in a strong firm voice, ‘Yes, it is true. Every last word. I witnessed it myself. Everything this man has said this day has been the truth. I cannot deny his account, and nor do I wish to.’
&nb
sp; ‘By the gods,’ whispered Augustus.
I heard Aulus sigh, and I turned back to Flavus. His eyes looked downcast, but they didn’t look at me in accusation. Any fool could see this trial was going against him, but if he blamed me for this, it didn’t show on his face.
Germanicus cleared his throat and asked Nicator, ‘How did you escape?’
Nicator hung his head. ‘I was too afraid to move. I couldn’t let them take me after what I witnessed so I stayed in my tree. At first it wasn’t so bad, but when my waterskin grew dry it became a torture. I couldn’t believe how cruel the gods had been. For days we had nothing but rain, but when I was stuck in my tree burning with thirst, no rain fell. I thought the gods truly had deserted me then.’
He shook his head at the memory. ‘At night I was tempted to creep down to the dead and search their bodies, to find a waterskin or anything to quench my thirst. But I didn’t dare. I’d seen what they did to prisoners.’
Germanicus nodded. ‘How did it end?’
Nicator looked at Germanicus. ‘I thought I’d reached the end. My mind was playing tricks on me, my head swimming with dehydration. But then they all left. The entire army got up and left.’
Nicator’s story reopened my own memories. I knew where the tribesman had gone. They had gone to attack the fortress at Aliso, where I’d been trapped with Marcus, Julia and Numeria.
Nicator continued, ‘I waited through another painful afternoon, until I could bear it no longer and I climbed down from my tree. I found a waterskin easily. They hadn’t bothered clearing the dead. They still lay where they fell, unburied and unmarked.’
Germanicus shook his head. ‘Another great wrong done to them.’
‘After drinking my fill, I hobbled down to the river. I found some of my comrades then. Some had been ripped apart by dogs, others despatched by cold iron, hunted down one by one. Eventually I reached the river and followed it back to our summer camp. This had been destroyed too. The entire civilian population had been put to the flame and sword. I found remains of young children burnt to a husk, their homes just ashes around them. No one was left living.’
There were shocked murmurs of disgust.
‘It took me weeks to trek across Germany, living like a ghost off carrion for the most part, avoiding any areas of habitation. It was a difficult journey. Eventually, I came to the river Rhenus, which I swam across and found my freedom.’
There was a great pause, until Germanicus finally said, ‘You may leave us. I thank you for your testimony this day. It has been very enlightening.’
Nicator gave Germanicus a nod. ‘It needed to be told. You needed to know what happened, you all did.’
He gave a bow to the imperator and turned and left the throne room. As he walked away, a few of the senators wiped away tears of their own, whilst others looked sickened by all they’d heard. There was a cold silence after he left, and I whispered to Aulus, ‘I’m sorry.’
He whispered back, ‘Don’t be, some truths can’t be hidden.’
Germanicus addressed the court. ‘You have all heard what we are dealing with now. Not only has Rome lost three of our finest legions, a blow almost incalculable, we now know the manner of those deaths. The inhuman cruelty meted out by that man’s brother,’ he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Flavus, ‘goes so far beyond any civilised act of war that he must be culpable by his association alone. Julius Arminius, a man educated in this very palace in his youth, given all the advantages of a Roman education and the benefits of Roman law. All this he squandered to fulfil his evil plans. He didn’t merely kill our citizens. He brutalised, butchered and tortured the brothers, sisters, sons and daughters of Rome. If he can do this to us, I say we pay him back with the blood of his own brother, to show that any who inflict this cruel humiliation on Rome can expect to have it paid back in kind.’ He again pointed at Flavus and raised his voice to a shout. ‘I say we treat this man in the same way that his brother treated our own people and we kill him and use his blood to placate the shades of our dead!’
The senators roared their approval and shouted their agreement. Could I blame them? If I hadn’t known Flavus myself, I’m pretty sure I’d have been shouting alongside them. Germanicus had been clever; he realised that he needn’t go into the details of Flavus’ guilt or innocence. He knew by fanning the flames of righteous anger he could demand the man’s death in terms of vengeance alone. Had he been so keen for me to defend the accused because he knew that I, of all people, wouldn’t be able to cast doubt on his witness’ statement?
I raised my hand to speak. Some of the senators had heard enough and shouted and swore at me, accusing me of protecting a traitor and dishonouring our dead. I stood there and took their abuse but refused to lower my hand in supplication. Eventually, Augustus raised his own hand and they quietened. ‘You wish to say something, Aprilis?’
I lowered my hand and replied in as firm a voice as I could muster. ‘Yes, I do. I cannot deny the heinous crimes that the accused’s brother committed. Julius Arminius is a viper, a demon who has earned his own death a thousand times over by his traitorous actions.’
A senator stepped forward. ‘Then let us take his brother’s head!’
There was vocal agreement to this, but I didn’t let it distract me. I held my hand up again for silence and told them, ‘Yes, I can see you are all rightly angry at what happened. But there is a vital element of the story you haven’t heard.’
Augustus narrowed his eyes at me. ‘And what is this, Aprilis?’
I lowered my hand again and said to the entire throne room, ‘The part played by the Roman commander, Publius Quinctilius Varus.’
There was uproar at this, and Germanicus shouted, ‘My lord, Princeps, what relevance does the role of Varus have to do with the guilt or otherwise of the accused? It is a complete irrelevance.’
Germanicus was right to try and avoid letting the trial go down this path. If Rome burned with fury at the treason of Julius Arminius, there was one other person they held equally culpable – the man who had been in charge and had let it happen. I stated loudly to Augustus, ‘My lord, I only wish to give a full account of what happened. There are some elements of the story that a centurion like Nicator can never know. As the honourable Germanicus said, a recounting of the events would help to be a frame of reference for all concerned. Don’t you think the court deserves to hear the full story?’
Augustus rubbed his chin. ‘He uses your own words against you, Germanicus. Why shouldn’t we hear the full story?’
Germanicus gave a shrug of dismissal. ‘I just don’t see how this could be relevant to the accused.’
Truth be told, I didn’t either. But I knew I needed to redirect some of the anger in this room away from Julius Arminius, otherwise, even if I produced a thousand letters stating a severance of ties between the two brothers, it wouldn’t be enough. They’d take his head anyway. Besides, just as Nicator’s story needed to be told, so did this one. I implored the imperator, ‘Let me tell you the part of the story you are missing.’
Augustus shifted on his stool. ‘I will allow it, but keep it short. It is getting late in the day.’
I bowed in acquiescence. ‘Of course, my lord.’ I then turned to my opponent. ‘My lord, Germanicus, you are a military man. I hear you fought with great honour in Dacia.’
Germanicus looked at me suspiciously. ‘What of it?’
I kept my tone cool and level. ‘I would just like to ask, what importance do you put on military intelligence in your campaigns?’
Germanicus looked affronted that I would even ask. ‘Why, the highest of course. Any army is only as good as the information it receives. During the campaign season, knowledge can, and often does, mean life or death.’
There were murmurs of agreement from the listening senators, some of whom would have commanded men in the field themselves.
I paced towards him slowly, arms behind my back. ‘And what would you say if I was to tell you that in Germany, no one was even
bothering to read the military intelligence?’
‘What!’ bellowed Augustus, before Germanicus had a chance to answer. ‘Explain yourself, Aprilis? What treason is this?’
I turned to the imperator, my hands behind my back. ‘Not treason, my lord. Simple laziness. When I arrived in Germany, I found that the military reports hadn’t been read in months.’
Augustus’ face was red with anger. ‘Who was responsible for this outrage?’
I kept my voice calm, something that wasn’t easy when the most important man in the world is demanding answers of you. ‘Varus’ nephew, Asprenas. He hadn’t been paying attention to his duties. The malaise didn’t end with him however, as once Asprenas left to take command in Mogontiacum, no one even thought to replace him. I brought it to Varus’ attention, but he seemed indifferent to the lack.’
Germanicus momentarily lost interest in the trial of Flavus and seethed, ‘This is outrageous. What did you do?’
I shrugged. ‘What else could I do? I started reading them myself. I had no experience in military intelligence, but someone had to. Not that it made any difference. Varus paid no attention to any recommendations or observations that I made. I told him that the German tribes were facing starvation through his high taxes, that someone may be able to use that against us to stir up trouble. He told me that such considerations were none of my concern.’
Suddenly realisation shone in Augustus eyes. ‘This is why you sent a letter to my wife? Because you were being ignored?’
I nodded. ‘Exactly, sir. Someone needed to know. I wasn’t alone in my frustration. Numonius Vala also repeatedly warned Varus that he thought the Angrivarii were up to something, but he ignored any intelligence to that effect.’
Augustus looked down at me, face aghast. ‘But if he was ignoring military intelligence, how could he have known what forces lay against him in the Teutoburg?’
My voice hardened. ‘He didn’t.’
Augustus’ voice growled, ‘By the gods, I was a fool to give any command to that man.’ He turned to Germanicus. ‘Where is this nephew now? Don’t tell me he is still in command at Mogontiacum?’
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