by R. W. Peake
We never crossed the river that day. Instead, we were consigned to watch what was ultimately an engagement that involved only our cavalry, and the death of Gaesorix’ successor, along with a fair amount of his command. Somehow, when Aemilius had copied Stertinius’ tactic but on the upstream side, crossing a bit less than a mile upriver before turning parallel to the river and moving through the forest, they missed a force of some five thousand German cavalrymen, hidden away in the same forest, but closer to the riverbank. Nothing was ever said officially, and as far as I know, Aemilius suffered no consequences, but there was not much outrage among the Legions at his oversight, even though we were relegated to the status of onlookers, and the battle we had been so certain would settle matters did not happen. The only thing we did was march closer to the riverbank, but that was to cover the withdrawal of our cavalry, which had coalesced into one force that, for a short period of time, was almost completely surrounded by the Germans. Who, as much as it pains me to admit it, were not retreating at all, at least not in the sense they were fleeing from our cavalry; instead, they were essentially copying the tactics of the great Carthaginian general Hannibal, when he had done much the same thing at Cannae. There was cause for complaint, but it was with the third line Cohorts, because we did not stay on that side of the Visurgis, rendering their work useless, as Germanicus ordered the army across once it became clear that the Germans were satisfied with bloodying our cavalry and had withdrawn to parts unknown. Once the camp was finished and the men settled down into their evening routine, as I circulated around the fires inside the newly constructed camp that night, this was when I heard Hannibal’s name and that battle more often than anything else. There was some muttering where I heard the name “Germanicus,” but before I could put a stop to it, the Propraetor himself appeared on our Cohort street, alone and unaccompanied by even his bodyguard. I had no idea he was there, being occupied with talking to one of my sections, but when I heard a voice call out my name, I did not immediately recognize it. When I turned to see what I thought was a Signifer, but one I did not recognize, I was about to question his identity and how he knew me when I suddenly realized that I did in fact know the man, which must have shown in my expression, because it made Germanicus laugh.
“By the gods, Pilus Prior Pullus, it’s not a numen. It’s just me.”
“Y-yes, sir! I-I…” I knew that I was babbling like an idiot, yet I could not seem to stop myself. “…I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Suddenly, I realized I had forgotten to salute, but he stopped me with a shake of his head; when he pointed to what I now realized was his disguise, I understood why he did not want me saluting him. Then, more quietly, he said, “Walk with me, Pullus.”
Naturally, I complied, and we walked down the Cohort street, and while the men who saw me started to come to their feet, I waved them back down. I was concerned that they would recognize that the Signifer by my side was in fact our commander, but Germanicus had done a good job of ensuring the headdress shadowed his features, and I was relieved to see my men give him barely a glance, returning to their own conversations. By the time we reached the end of the Fourth’s area, Germanicus had the opportunity to hear my men bantering with each other, and I assumed that had been his purpose in having me walk with him, so I turned to walk away, but he stopped me.
“I must say, Pullus,” his tone was mildly amused, “I’m somewhat disappointed to see that a Pilus Prior in my army doesn’t attend to his commander until he’s dismissed.”
The only light was from the fires, but it was the heat that came rushing to my face that provided far more warmth than the flames.
“I…I apologize, sir. I just thought you were done with the Fourth.”
“I am,” he replied evenly, “but not with you.” He turned to continue down the street, repeating over his shoulder, “Walk with me.”
Naturally, I made haste to do as he said, but once I caught up with him, he seemed content to remain silent for a few steps, until we were standing in the intersection between our street and the street that led to the camp forum. Finally, he said, “Your men seem in good spirits, Pullus.” He paused, then added in a rueful tone, “Even after what happened today.”
“I promise you, sir. My boys are ready to fight, and they’re disappointed that they didn’t get a chance to get stuck in.”
I was not playing him falsely, but I did worry that my words would seem sycophantic.
Whether he viewed them that way or not, he nodded as he agreed, “Judging from what I just heard from them, that’s certainly true.” He stopped then, staring down the street, where the men of the Third were doing essentially the same thing my men had been doing, although there were some curious glances thrown in our direction by the men nearby. Suddenly, he turned back to me and asked, “And? How about you, Pullus? What do you think?”
Before I could think about it, I answered, “I think that the sooner we can get at that cunnus Arminius, the better. My men are ready, sir, and so am I.”
He grinned, and I understood why when he teased, “You sound more like your father every time we talk. Would you have used that kind of language when you first showed up?”
As I suspect he hoped, this made me laugh.
“No,” I admitted. “I would have rather bitten off my tongue than use that kind of language in front of you.”
His smile faded, and he took a quick glance around, then lowered his voice even more. “Pullus, I’m going to tell you something, and it’s something that’s not only very important, but I actually want you to spread it around tonight. But,” he warned, “I don’t want my name associated with what I’m about to tell you. Do you understand?”
Frankly, I did not, yet I also understood that this was not what he was looking for, so I swallowed my reservations and said only, “Yes, sir. Your name will never come up.”
This clearly satisfied him, because he said, “While we were at the river, a deserter from the Cherusci showed up, claiming that Arminius has picked his spot for battle, and that it’s not far from here. Apparently, there’s a grove sacred to Hercules, and there are a couple tribes who weren’t present today who arrived during the fight. That’s where Arminius will be marshaling his army.” As I listened, my alarm grew, but he correctly guessed why, because before I could say anything, he held up a hand to add, “And, I sent scouts out to where this German said they’d be waiting, and he was right. But that’s not all.” What more, I thought, could there possibly be? I got my answer very quickly. “They’re going to launch a probe on the camp tonight, sometime after midnight. Not,” he hurried to add, “an attack, but…something, some sort of mischief.”
“And you want the men to be alert tonight, and be ready for a fight tomorrow,” I said. “And, you don’t want me to let them know that I heard it directly from you.”
“Exactly.” He nodded.
Even as I was speaking, the answer about how to do this was forming in my mind, and it should be no surprise that it was in the form of my clerk, which was what enabled me to say confidently, “I can do that, sir. You can trust me.”
“I had no doubt,” Germanicus said, and he seemed sincere. Before I could say anything, he concluded our talk, “But I still have more work to do.”
This time, I saluted, which he returned, then he headed back towards the praetorium, while I headed for my tent, where I was certain I would find Alex. I was not going to use him to actually spread the word that Germanicus wanted, but he needed to know that he was going to be my reason for doing so.
I did not learn until later that, while I was doing the job Germanicus had assigned me, the Propraetor was still at work, wandering the Legion areas, and from everything I heard, he behaved as he had with my Cohort and did not interact with the men, just stood there listening to the talk around the fires. Clearly, whatever he heard encouraged him, while his warning about what was coming later that night enhanced my own standing with my Cohort, although I made sure to give Alex the credit for overhearing o
ne of the other clerks in the praetorium. It was indeed after midnight when, out of the darkness, on the other side of the wall nearest to the Fourth, we heard shouting, followed almost immediately by the cornu call of the guard Cohort. It was not the call to arms, but just the alert that there was a potentially hostile presence spotted, and it served its purpose in rousing the men from their tents, including me. It was a single voice, faint yet clearly audible, the accented Latin making it difficult to understand the man, although we did, and it was essentially the offering of a bribe for every Roman who deserted and joined Arminius.
“Romans! The Cherusci chieftain you call Arminius has sent me to make this offer! For every man who gives his allegiance to our cause, he will give you a woman, land, and one hundred of your sesterces a day for as long as this war lasts!” After repeating this a few times, he shouted, “What say you?”
Aside from knowing that it was the turn of the 5th to have the guard Cohort, as far as I know, nobody ever learned the identity of the Legionary who was standing his post on the wall who shouted back, “Why would we need that? We’re going to have that and more, and I’m going to be the one to fuck your woman, you cocksucking coward!”
If he said anything more, it was drowned out by a roar that was both savage laughter and the calls from other men who shouted that they would be right there with their unknown comrade. Once the noise died down, we stood out there for a short while longer, but we heard not another word from the unseen German, and I finally gave the order to retire, the men in such high spirits, I was concerned they would be unable to fall back asleep.
When the sun came up the next morning, Germanicus was dressed in his attire as an augur, but instead of the entire army, just the Centurions were summoned to the forum to witness the taking of the auspices. And, as we all expected, the omens were favorable to our endeavor, except that instead of leaving the camp we were assembled, but then kept ready inside the camp, although the ramparts were manned by the 16th and 15th. The men were allowed to sit down in place, but nobody really knew why we were waiting, and I include myself. Oh, I knew in general terms since Germanicus had told me, yet that is not the same thing as knowing exactly what was coming next. Fortunately, we did not have long to wait, when the cornu at the Porta Praetoria sounded the call that a hostile force was approaching. Before I could turn around to shout a command, the entire Cohort was on its feet, hefting their shields, ready to move through one of the gates. The nearest gate to the 1st was the Porta Principalis Dextra, and as we waited, Sacrovir sent runners to inform us to be ready to leave the camp, and when we did, it would be through the side gate.
It was actually Clepsina who guessed, incorrectly as it would turn out, “That will put us on the right side of the line if we’re marching that direction.” He pointed to the Porta Dextra.
Naturally, our attention was focused in that direction because of the cornu call, and we were close enough to see the first of what would turn out to be several volleys of missiles come arcing up from someplace beyond the front wall. Thankfully, the Legionaries manning the ramparts were prepared, raising their shields to block the incoming shower of what, from where I was standing, appeared to be equally divided between arrows and the small, light throwing javelins the Germans liked. Not surprisingly, the arrows were aimed for a spot deeper in the camp, although none of them came close to us. I did not count how long this missile assault lasted, but if I had to guess, I doubt I would have reached two hundred when the flurry of missiles began tailing off before stopping completely. For the span of perhaps a half-dozen heartbeats, we waited tensely, certain that the next cornu call would announce the approach of the main body of Germans, but when the command did come, it was the signal to exit the camp. Frankly, it was difficult to maintain order and discipline, not just in my Century and Cohort, but the entire Legion, and later I heard much the same thing from the Centurions of enough of the other Legions to know this was the mood of the entire army. The best example I can think of is that the men were like fighting Molossian dogs, straining at the lead when they catch the scent of their opponent, and I found myself in the unusual position of using my vitus to keep men from breaking from formation in their haste to get outside the camp. It was hectic, and almost chaotic, yet somehow we managed to get outside, where we learned that, contrary to Clepsina’s guess, we would not be to the right of the line. The initial reaction was one of disappointment and a bit of anger, if I am being honest, since that is generally reserved for the most senior and accomplished Legion in the army. It had been the case with Divus Julius, where it had been my great-grandfather’s Equestrians of the 10th Legion, and the day before, we had been to the right of the first line of Legions, although it would not be long that we learned that Germanicus was not snubbing us. He placed the 15th to the far right, with us next to them, and the 5th next to us on the opposite side, with the 2nd anchoring the left, while, just like the day before, the archers who came through the Porta Praetoria trotted to a spot that placed them in the front line, and the same auxiliary Cohorts shook themselves out as the second.
Even with all the activity, the one thing that was obvious was that the German skirmishers had fled, making the area to our front empty of everything but the trees, and it made me wonder just how far we would have to march to this sacred grove. Germanicus set a steady pace, not particularly fast, and while we could not see the retreating skirmishers from where we were in the third line, just by the manner in which our archers were behaving coming to a sudden stop that in turn prompted a rippling halt of what were essentially seven lines of Roman might, I assumed this was due to not wanting to waste missiles on such low value troops. It is a relatively common tactic, using javelineers and archers to soak up the missiles of one’s foe, and Germanicus had wisely ordered our force of them to refrain from the temptation. Not that it would have been all that difficult to convince them, since the only way to get in range to punish the enemy is to be in range for the same treatment. The woods were not all that thick, but it was the relative lack of the kind of underbrush and thickets that made me a bit more nervous than the circumstances already warranted, because it screamed out to me that this was no accident. I kept glancing over to where Structus was marching to my left, but if he looked my way, it was not at the same time, and while I briefly considered mentioning this to Gemellus, who was a pace behind me to my left, I discarded it, not wanting to sound anxious, even if I was. Finally, after we covered about a mile from our camp, something happened that caused Germanicus to have his Cornicen sound the halt, and once we did so, I caught a glimpse of the German skirmishers, who were now fleeing us at a run, without stopping this time. It took a few heartbeats longer for me to see why when they finally did come to a halt, just in front of a solid mass of darkness that my eyes finally identified as the German line of infantry.
“Let’s see what they have in mind today,” I said aloud, although not loud enough for Gemellus to hear, but when he asked me to repeat it, I just shook my head.
Honestly, I was not altogether convinced that today would be different than the day before; yes, there was no river between us, but the ground was flat, and unless it was invisible to the eye, the ground was firm, and not the kind of soft, soggy ground that Arminius and his warriors typically favored. It was also true there were trees, but the lack of thick brush was still nagging at me. In simple terms, this looked more like ground that favored us, although there was a thickly forested expanse just beyond the rear of the German formation, and it was certainly possible that more men were hidden there, but before I could dwell on that, Arminius apparently decided that today was the day.
It began with several high-pitched, wailing notes from the German version of the cornu, but if they played more than one note, it was impossible to hear, because the full-throated roaring of thousands of German warriors drowned them out as they went from standing still to an all-out sprint, directly at our skirmishers. Anyone who has not witnessed this kind of assault before usually has the same
reaction, to freeze for the span of a heartbeat or two as the shock of the rapidity which these men move into battle hits them. Fortunately for the archers marching for us they were drawn from native levies and had experienced this before, so they did not hesitate, turning and sprinting for the second line of auxiliaries without launching as much as a single arrow that I saw until they reached the relative safety of their comrades in the auxiliary Cohorts. The sequence of the next events is hopelessly jumbled in my memory, but as near as I can recall, the attack by Arminius’ centermost warriors elicited an immediate reaction from Germanicus, in essentially a repeat of the day before, by launching Stertinius, Aemilius, and their cavalry in a charge aimed at flanking the German host from both sides. I barely noticed, frankly; my attention was on the collision between the German infantry and our auxiliaries, the commander of the auxiliary Cohorts ordering the countercharge even before our skirmishers reached them. As always happened when the two lines collided, all manner of items went flying into the air from the impact. The most common thing are helmets that a nervous man has either forgotten to tie and his Centurion or Optio did not check, or more likely from my experience, had tied it, then for whatever reason, untied it later then neglected to tie it back up. Ultimately, the cause did not matter, nor was it anything but a minor thing that I noticed, as I alternated between watching behind our auxiliary line, where Germanicus had positioned himself on his horse, along with Silius, Caecina and staff, surrounded by his bodyguards, with the auxiliaries the only thing between him and the Germans, and with two Praetorian Cohorts immediately behind him, all of us waiting for our commander to make his decision. I bring this up because I did not see the event that was responsible for Germanicus unleashing us after perhaps a sixth part of a watch of battle between the auxiliaries and our enemy, but I certainly heard about it later. For a multitude of reasons, some which should be obvious, I have no wish to dispute the official account that was sent to Rome by the Propraetor, but I never saw the eight eagles that were flying directly above us and towards the German horde. And, as any of my as-yet unborn progeny who read this will know, this could have been hardly a more potent symbol to Legions of Rome and the men in them who will literally die rather than let what is in reality a carved wooden representation of an eagle, albeit it covered in gold gilt, fall into enemy hands. Truly, whether there were real eagles heading towards Arminius and his Germans or not does not matter, because the eight Legion eagles, held by their Aquiliferi, obeyed their commander in a headlong charge at our enemy. It was somewhat difficult for the front line Cohorts of the leading Legions since he was positioned behind us in the space between our line and the fourth line with the two Praetorian Cohorts and other auxiliaries, but there was no hesitation on our part when he ordered his Cornicen to sound the call that alerted us that orders were coming. While we could not hear anything Germanicus said, once his Cornicen sounded the call that prompted us to turn in his direction, we all saw him thrust his gladius in the air above his head, making a circling motion that is designed to serve as the visual signal to the men who are within sight that an order is coming, which did, in the form of him sweeping his arm down to point the gladius directly at the Germans. However, rather than sit astride his horse and be content to watch us advance, he kicked his mount into motion, clearly startling the men around him, so that they were left scrambling to catch up with our commander. None of which mattered all that much to me honestly, because I was bellowing at the top of my lungs, along with every other Centurion of the four Legions of the first line.