by Ben Kane
‘I-I couldn’t say, sir. It must have been the drink talking.’
‘The drink talking,’ Tullus repeated. He stuck his face into Aius’. ‘I could believe that of certain men, perhaps, but I know my soldiers quite well. Pissheads they may be, stupid too, to some extent, but they’re not cretins!’ He rammed the fasteners partway up Aius’ nose and pulled them out again, leaving Aius groaning. ‘These are inscribed “Marcus Aius of the First Cohort”. That would be you?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Aius’ voice was muffled by his hands, which were clutching his face.
‘And you lost them in a game of dice not long ago, to that man over there?’ Tullus pointed at Piso.
‘Aye, sir.’
‘How many years’ service have you completed?’
‘Twelve, sir,’ replied Aius.
‘If I’ve learned one thing as a centurion, it’s that a soldier who gambles pieces of his kit, a veteran in particular, is a man with a problem. My gut is telling me that you’re such an individual.’ Aius did not reply at once, and Tullus bawled, ‘Would I be correct?’
‘I wanted to get my money back, sir,’ mumbled Aius. ‘And those fasteners.’
‘I thought as much,’ Tullus snapped. Moving closer to one of the torches, he produced a wax tablet and a stylus. ‘Approach, one at a time. I want names, any distinguishing features, century, and your centurion’s name.’
Piso watched with increasing pleasure as the ten legionaries filed past Tullus, giving their details and showing him the scars, birthmarks or tattoos that would identify them from other men. None dared ask what their punishment would be. When Tullus was done, he glanced at Afer. ‘How’s Vitellius?’
‘He’s come to, sir,’ came the answer. ‘Says he’s not too bad.’
Piso could have sworn that relief flashed across Tullus’ face. ‘Lucky for you maggots that he’s woken up,’ he yelled at Aius and the rest. ‘Piss off, the lot of you. Centurion Fabricius will be hearing about this in the morning.’ With thwacks of his vitis, he drove them away. Piso took great satisfaction from the fact that the man he’d punched in the balls was walking with an odd gait.
His good spirits lasted as long as it took Tullus to determine again that their injuries weren’t too serious. After that, he lambasted them from a height. ‘What kind of stupid bastard starts gambling with a soldier who’s got half his century with him? No legionary of mine should ever be caught fighting in the street either. What kind of lowlifes are you?’
Piso and the other two absorbed the tirade in silence. They didn’t complain either when Tullus confined them to camp for a month, adding in latrine duty for the same period, nor when he promised them extra training marches the moment that the surgeon pronounced them fit. At length, he finished his rant. He gave them each a hard stare, which they met with reluctance. ‘Out of my sight,’ he ordered. ‘Back to barracks.’
Supporting Vitellius on either side, Piso and Afer began to edge around the wagon. The dumbstruck carter, who had been watching from a safe distance, not yet certain that the trouble was over, ventured towards his oxen.
‘Piso.’
Piso looked back.
‘Were your winnings worth it?’ asked Tullus.
Piso ached all over. His friends must too, he thought, in particular poor Vitellius. ‘No, sir.’
‘Think before you play dice the next time, eh? The First Cohort might be arrogant whoresons, but they’re tough.’
‘Yes, sir. We’re grateful you happened upon us.’
Afer and Vitellius were quick to add their thanks.
‘Just as well I did.’ To Piso’s amazement, Tullus handed him the bronze fasteners. He chuckled. ‘After a fight like that, a man should hold on to what he won.’
VIII
TULLUS AND THE rest of the party left Vetera soon after first light, every man relishing the clear sky, the crisp, fresh air and the dew on the roadside grass. Varus had dressed like Tullus, in a simple, off-white tunic and sturdy hobnailed sandals. Rather than a sword, he wore a dagger on his belt. Anyone who didn’t know him would have had no idea that he was the most important man in the whole province, thought Tullus. That, he suspected, was something that Varus was relishing. No doubt he was also looking forward to – as Tullus was – a day without the grinding routine of army life. Today would be a chance to forget the drudgery, the aggravation of dealing with malingering soldiers, self-important quartermasters and arrogant officers such as Tubero.
Arminius had with him Maelo and a dozen men, two of whom were driving a cart that carried six caged hunting dogs. At Vala’s insistence, Varus had brought along a century of legionaries, extra personal protection. It was awkward enough for men in civilian dress to pursue a boar through woodland, thought Tullus, let alone those who were in full armour, carrying javelins and shields, yet he wasn’t against the idea of the escort. Arminius was a trusted Roman ally, but Tullus didn’t know him well yet. Arminius aside, there were plenty of people east of the Rhenus who regarded Governor Varus if not as an enemy, then as an oppressor.
With the legionaries and tribesmen following, Arminius and Maelo guided Varus and Tullus to a forested area some eight miles from the bridge over the Rhenus. Tullus knew the location well – to see. He had passed it many times over the years, on his way to and from Aliso or further afield, but had never had cause to leave the road. If the truth were told, he’d always thought the forest a potential spot for an ambush. Left to his own devices, he would have had the beech trees cut back further from the road, reducing the chances of any attackers falling upon unsuspecting patrols. The location had been deemed ‘low risk’ by the legate, however, and Tullus had given up mentioning it. Despite the jovial atmosphere, therefore, and the fact that this was likely to be a good place to start the hunt, he felt a tickle of unease.
‘How is it that the trees haven’t been chopped down for firewood, or to increase grazing?’ he asked Arminius. ‘We passed a settlement not far back.’
‘The Usipetes believe that it would bring them bad luck,’ said Arminius, touching the little hammer amulet at his neck. ‘This ground is sacred to Donar, the thunder god.’
Tullus spotted Arminius’ reaction. ‘Is he important to you?’
Arminius’ grey eyes darkened. ‘Aye, he is. Do you favour a deity?’
‘No single one. I pay my respects to Jupiter, Mars and Mithras, but I don’t rely on any of them to get me out of trouble, or Fortuna. I count on my soldiers, and this.’ Tullus tapped the gladius that hung from his belt.
‘A sensible approach.’ If Arminius thought it unusual for a man to take a sword on a hunt, he didn’t say. ‘And you, governor?’
‘I believe that the gods are all around us, but it’s rare for them to interact with humankind. I’ve also found it best to depend on those whom I can see with my own eyes,’ replied Varus.
‘If this area belongs to Donar, is it wise to hunt here?’ Tullus enquired.
‘As long as we enter the trees with respect in our hearts, and make an offering of whatever we may kill, the thunder god will be content. So I have always been told by our priests.’
Maelo muttered something unintelligible in German. Never fond of not knowing what was going on, Tullus threw an enquiring glance at Arminius.
‘Maelo said that it wouldn’t be a good idea for us – or more particularly you Romans – to enter the sacred grove,’ continued Arminius with a smile.
‘I can understand that,’ said Varus. ‘And I have no wish to upset your god, Arminius. Let us ask that any quarry we find stays well away from it.’
‘It’s odd, but even the animals seem to give the place a wide berth.’
‘Perhaps it’s the smell of blood,’ suggested Maelo, in Latin this time.
A look passed between him and Arminius, which Tullus couldn’t read. It made his unease grow. ‘Where shall we begin?’
‘This is a good place,’ answered Maelo. ‘I’ve seen boar and deer tracks around here before.’
They dismo
unted and led their horses off the road. The legionaries came to a halt and waited for orders, while the cart carrying the dogs was last to trundle up alongside. A frenzy of whining and barking went up the moment that the vehicle’s wheels stopped turning. The dogs leaped out, allowing their handlers to place leashes around their necks with the greatest reluctance. They were of two types: a tall, rangy trio with shaggy grey hair and deep chests, which would be excellent at chasing down deer, and three stocky-framed dogs with broad heads and massive jaws, bred to face charging boars.
‘They’re even more eager than we,’ said Varus with a smile.
‘Aye, sir.’ The prospect of a chase was exciting Tullus too. He cast his eyes over the trees once more, and saw nothing. There’s no one out there, he told himself, and we have a century of legionaries with us. Relax. Enjoy the hunt. ‘What are we to do with the men, sir?’ he asked Varus.
‘I told Vala that they’d be useless in the forest, but he wouldn’t listen. “Your position as governor requires you to have an escort, sir.”’ Varus was silent for a moment. ‘We leave them here, and pick them up when we return.’
Tullus was thrown by Varus’ casual attitude. Unbidden, Caedicius’ words ran through his head. ‘Expect the unexpected. You must always be prepared to fight.’ Arminius only had a few men with him. And, thought Tullus, they were Germans, not Romans. Their loyalty could not be guaranteed. ‘Beg your pardon, sir, but I agree with Vala. We should take some of them at least.’
‘What could happen?’ asked Varus, frowning. ‘We’re on Vetera’s doorstep, and Arminius’ warriors will be with us.’
‘You need have no cause for concern, Tullus,’ Arminius murmured.
‘You mistake me. I’m not concerned. It would be a good idea, that’s all,’ replied Tullus, smiling to show he meant no offence. Inside, he was thinking: Ally of Rome you might be, but I’d rather have some of my own to guard my back, and the back of the most important man in Germania.
Finding a deep patch of shade under the branches of an impressive beech, Tullus stopped. ‘Thirsty, sir?’ He slipped one of his two water skins off his shoulder and offered it to Varus.
‘My throat’s as dry as a Judaean riverbed.’ Varus wiped his brow with his tunic sleeve and paced over to accept the bag. Taking a long pull, he grimaced. ‘Nothing like the taste of oiled leather, eh? It reminds me of being on campaign.’
‘It’s pretty foul, sir, but better—’
‘—than nothing,’ said Varus, interrupting with a smile. ‘I know.’
Seeing that they had paused, Arminius also came to a halt. ‘I hadn’t expected it to be quite this warm.’ He slapped at a biting fly, just one of clouds that hung in the muggy air, plaguing them at every opportunity. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t the best day to track down a boar.’
‘Nonsense,’ Varus declared. ‘Here, I have no paperwork to deal with, no clerks with urgent requests. I am my own master. That, let me tell you, is something that money cannot buy.’
Arminius cocked his head. ‘What do you say, Tullus?’
‘Eh?’ Tullus was watching the fifteen purple-faced, sweating legionaries, who were beginning to appear. The road was perhaps two miles to their rear, but the soldiers looked as if they’d just marched five times that distance.
‘How are you bearing up?’ asked Arminius.
‘Better than those poor bastards.’ He gestured at the legionaries, and added, ‘I’ll be content if we don’t come away empty-handed by the day’s end.’
‘Maybe Donar doesn’t want us to find anything,’ offered Varus. ‘Have you thought of that, Arminius?’
‘He will reward us if we persist. This is perfect ground to find a boar.’ Arminius pointed at a nearby fallen tree, the gnarly trunk of which was covered in exuberant growths of fungi. ‘They love rooting around those, searching for insects and worms. There’s a boggy area by a stream not far away too. During hot weather, they like to roll in the mud. Even if we don’t find a boar, we’re bound to see a deer.’
‘Gods grant we bring down something. My belly’s clapped to my backbone,’ said Varus.
Arminius rummaged in the pouch at his belt. ‘Here,’ he said, proffering a dark strip of material.
Varus eyed it with some suspicion. ‘What in the gods’ name is that?’
‘Dried bear meat.’
‘There’s a first time for everything,’ said Varus, putting it in his mouth. Tullus, who had eaten bear before, watched with some amusement as his commander chewed and chewed. ‘I’m glad I still have most of my teeth. It’s as tough as old leather,’ Varus said when he’d swallowed it. ‘Tasty, though. Is it from a bear you killed?’
‘Indeed it is.’ Arminius thrust back and forth with his spear, miming. ‘He was a tough one. Killed four of our dogs before I took him down.’
‘You have my respect. Bears are formidable creatures,’ said Varus. ‘I have never slain one, and I am not sure I ever want to get close enough to try.’
‘Your stout heart and steady spear would see you through,’ declared Arminius.
Varus looked pleased, but the compliment made Tullus uneasy. Arminius is a born charmer, he thought. Some might even say arse-licker.
BOOOOOO! BOOOOOO!
Food, drink, idle chat forgotten, the three twisted to face where the horns had blown, to their front.
‘They have found something,’ announced Arminius. ‘Best hurry, or it will have fled.’
‘Follow as fast as you can,’ Tullus ordered the nearest legionary, who nodded dully. As they outstripped their escort with ease, he worried again about an ambush. The recent trouble with the Usipetes brought them first to his mind. It wasn’t impossible that a dozen well-armed warriors might jump out from behind those sessile oak trees, for example, or that massive beech. He and Arminius wouldn’t stand a chance. The governor of Germania, dead, just like that. Tullus quelled the grim image. The Usipetes don’t know we’re here, he told himself. Relax.
Trampling the green-leaved wood melick that grew everywhere, the three ran towards the horns.
BOOOOOO! BOOOOOO! BOOOOOO!
Arminius was the youngest and fittest, and soon drew into the lead. In response, Tullus slowed until he was last. It felt better to watch Varus’ back, and it let the governor determine the pace. They went down a sloping bank, trampled through a dry stream bed and up the other side, into a mixed area of sessile oaks and beech. Tullus cursed as the tip of his spear snagged against a low-hanging branch and wrenched his wrist to the side. There was no time to check if it was sprained: Arminius was shouting something about being quite close. Tullus ducked his head to avoid a whipping bramble caused by Varus’ passage, but didn’t see the second, spindly length that followed. Thorns tore all along his cheek, and then he was free. Tullus dabbed at his face, and his fingers came away red. He kept running.
Perhaps three hundred paces further on, Arminius halted to check his bearings. Despite the chorus of squeals and barks that was audible ahead, Tullus was grateful for a reprieve. The heat and the muggy forest air were more strength-sapping than he cared to admit. Varus, who had done well thus far, was in a worse way than him. Sweat was pouring down his bright red face, and his chest was rising and falling like a smith’s bellows as it coaxes a fire to life.
‘All right, sir?’
‘I’ll … be fine. Give me … a moment.’
Tullus walked a few paces back into the trees, unsurprised to see no sign of their escort. He found he was holding his sword hilt, but he let his fingers fall away as he turned back to the other two. It was better that neither see his unease.
Maelo had appeared by Arminius’ side. ‘It’s a boar. A big male,’ he announced. ‘The dogs caught up with it, but it escaped. You need to hurry, or you’ve got no chance of a kill.’ Both Cheruscans cast a look at Varus, who waved a hand. ‘Lead on. I won’t fall behind.’
‘Just follow the noise.’ With a grin, Arminius took off after Maelo. It wasn’t long before their dark clothing blended with the trees, and t
hey vanished.
‘Where are the legionaries?’ asked Varus, as if he had felt Tullus’ disquiet.
‘Coming along behind us, sir. They’ll reach us soon,’ said Tullus, who wasn’t at all sure that they would.
‘This is harder than I thought it would be.’ Looking rueful, Varus mopped his brow. ‘I need to exercise more. It doesn’t take long for a man to run to fat when he’s stuck at a desk every day. Best keep going, though, or we’ll kill nothing. Lead on.’
In the event, things happened fast. The cacophony of barking, yelps and squeals grew deafening as they drew nearer. Men were shouting and, through the trees, Tullus could see figures running to and fro. ‘Prepare yourself, sir,’ he said. ‘The boar could be coming back this way.’
‘Look out!’ It was Arminius’ voice.
Tullus and Varus moved apart, their eyes searching the ground before them.
The boar burst into sight half a dozen heartbeats later. A blur of motion, it came at an incredible speed. Thick-bodied, with a hump at the shoulders and covered in a thick layer of hair, it was the size of a small cart, yet it tore through the trees faster than an athlete could sprint. The tusks jutting from the sides of its slavering mouth revealed it to be a male. Barking furiously, the three boarhounds came charging after, nipping at its heels.
Tullus laughed, half amused, half frustrated. The boar would pass within fifty paces of him, but unless it slowed, it might as well be a mile away. He was no slouch with a javelin, but he couldn’t hurl a heavy spear with enough power or accuracy to bring down a beast of that size at that distance. The boar would disappear into the forest, and their pursuit would have to start all over again.
He hadn’t reckoned on the hounds, or Varus, who found a hidden reserve of energy. As one of the dogs managed to catch hold of the boar’s right hind leg, slowing its progress, Varus ran forward, his spear at the ready. Tullus blinked in surprise, and followed. In battle, a man who hesitated was lost.
Furious, the boar wheeled on its attacker. There was a loud yelp as one of its tusks connected, and the dog released its grip. Before the boar could flee, however, another hound had seized hold of its haunches. Squeals shredded the air, and the boar turned anew, gouging at the second dog’s head and neck. Droplets of blood flew everywhere, but instead of letting go, the dog clamped its jaws even tighter. This was what its two companions had been waiting for. Hurling themselves forward, they sank their teeth into whatever part of the boar came within reach.