Wolves of Rome

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  General Drusus’s voice had started low, but rose as he was speaking, until it sounded as if he were reciting poetry.

  ‘If only you could see Rome, you would understand.’

  Sigmer didn’t ask further questions. He was disturbed and yet fascinated by Drusus’s words and he decided for the time being to support his friend’s vision. This resulted in many advantages for his people and his family, and his closeness to power gained him a newfound respect from other chieftains who had been hostile to him in the past.

  Their meetings continued, deep in the forest of the bison. One day Drusus confided he’d had a dream that had shaken him badly. He couldn’t get it off his mind. He had heard that there was an oracle, the Germanic oracle, who was reputed to speak the truth. He asked Sigmer to help him consult it.

  What the Romans called the ‘Germanic oracle’ was said to be found in a cave in the Black Forest where no one was allowed to enter. Sigmer agreed to go with him and also to teach Drusus the words in the ancient Germanic language that had the power of rousing the oracle and calling it out through the portal to the underworld.

  Sigmer stood back as Drusus approached an opening covered with moss and decaying tree trunks, scattered all around with human bones. There the Roman stopped and shouted out the ancestral formula three times. They waited.

  The silence was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps, trampling putrid leaves and rotting branches.

  ‘Immortal gods,’ whispered Drusus. ‘It’s a giant.’

  ‘We can still go,’ said Sigmer softly.

  ‘No,’ replied Drusus. ‘I haven’t come this far to leave now.’

  A creature wearing a long robe of goat pelts emerged, its bulk filling the mouth of the cave. When it saw them it let out a deep groan first and then a shrill scream, as strident as the cry of a falcon. It was a woman! She was gigantic and she wielded a battleaxe that made a dull rumble as she whirled it in front of her.

  ‘You have to fight her,’ said Sigmer. ‘If you win, she will pronounce a prophecy. If you lose, she’ll kill you. The bones you see all around are from those who sought to interrogate the oracle and were defeated.’

  General Drusus unsheathed his sword. It was a weapon he’d had forged for himself which was longer than any gladius – to compensate for the greater reach of the large northern warriors. He scrutinized the axe and saw that it was cast from rough, impure metal. Its only strength was in its weight. He could win.

  It was she who struck first. Drusus dodged the blow, and the axe pounded into a stone and exploded into a thousand incandescent shards.

  Drusus crept up on the oracle, threatening her with the sharp tip of his sword, but she threw off her black mantle and hurled it at him to ensnare his weapon. The arms she uncovered were covered with coarse dark hairs. The Roman’s blade flashed bright and sliced the foul mantle in two. She let loose with what was left of her axe but he leapt out of its path and then, as he was landing on his feet, twisted back and with a mighty blow chopped the axe’s handle in half. He spun around and stood tall, sword in hand, facing the horrible virago.

  Perhaps for the first time ever, she felt threatened and the feral look on her face resembled fear. She held out her hands and moved them downwards as if miming a surrender of her weapon to the ground. Her fear became panic. Drusus gripped the haft of his sword ever tighter and advanced imperceptibly.

  She suddenly spoke out in a deep, raucous voice, in Latin, ‘How far do you want to get, Drusus? To the ends of the earth?’

  Sigmer was astonished, but Drusus, without any show of emotion, answered, ‘To the current of the Elbe, to mark the furthermost confines of the Empire.’

  Sigmer couldn’t understand his every word, but he did understand the sense of what Drusus was saying.

  Night was falling and the air had become cold but the face of the Germanic oracle dripped with sweat. Only three words left her mouth, deep and low: ‘You’ll die first.’

  THE TWO MEN’S lives took separate paths after this, and their armies began once again to clash, but before long Sigmer realized the cost of war with Rome was too high. The sentence of the Germanic oracle continued to ring in his ears. Secretly, in his heart, he refused to believe it. He couldn’t stand the thought that Drusus was condemned to an early death. They stipulated a truce and a pact of mutual non-aggression. As the centre of Germania, the territory of the Cherusci, became more peaceful, Drusus moved north, until one day when, after a skirmish, he fell off his horse and hurt himself badly.

  Since he’d suffered no visible wounds, he neglected the consequences of his fall, which was so serious that it had, in fact, shattered his thigh bone. He was so convinced that final victory was near that he was unwilling to curtail his activity for any reason in the world, much less some ill-considered recommendation from his doctors.

  3

  FOR DAYS THE COLUMN of Roman horsemen and Germanic auxiliaries crossed the forests and swamps that Sigmer’s sons were well familiar with. Armin and Wulf proceeded on horseback as well, at the centre of the squad escorting them. Their father had sent them garments and footwear before their departure so their appearance would befit their rank of princes of the Cherusci people. And so that they would stay warm on the snow-covered plains beaten by frigid winds. The only thing they were not allowed was their weapons. Their minders had already been introduced to the boys’ expertise in their use.

  At every setting of the sun, the Roman soldiers and the Germanic auxiliaries pitched their tents and Centurion Taurus instructed the scouts to reconnoitre the territory in every direction to identify possible threats or dangers.

  He always preferred to position the camp on elevated terrain which allowed a good view of the surrounding areas, and he would send out mixed groups of Roman and Germanic horsemen, mostly Hermunduri, Chatti and Cherusci. The latter were easily recognized by the boys.

  Wulf turned to his brother one day. ‘How can Taurus trust these men who speak our language? They could easily free us if they wanted to. They could take us back to our father, who would pay them a rich reward.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ replied Armin. ‘If it were so easy, they would have already done it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Taurus speaks our language well enough, and he understands the others who live on these lands. He knows exactly where we are every time we stop. Have you ever noticed that thing he wears around his waist in that little leather case?’

  ‘Yes, it looks like a little roll of leather. He unrolls it and then does it back up again after he’s done looking at it.’

  ‘That’s right. That little roll is called a tabula.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It’s Latin, and it means a drawing of the earth with all its mountains, rivers, lakes and the distances between them. When Taurus moves anywhere on our territory he even knows where the legions are garrisoned and where the cavalry units are and he knows how far away that is. He can measure time, what hour of the day it is, with great precision. He can send off light signals using a polished metal plate. Our Germanic auxiliaries must know there’s no way they could get away with it.’

  ‘So we’re not going to do anything to try to get free?’ asked Wulf.

  ‘I didn’t say that. Our freedom is what’s most precious to us and I wouldn’t want to lose it for anything in the world, but we have to wait for the right time.’

  Wulf said nothing. If Armin, who was the wilder of the two, suggested waiting, that was good reason for him to be careful. He didn’t even have a plan for running away.

  On the fifth day of their march, they arrived at the foot of towering, snow-covered mountains. Taurus said that it was there that the Rhine and the Danube, the two greatest rivers of the world, had their sources. The Rhine then went north towards the ocean, while the Danube turned east to fill a closed sea called the Pontus. They had been travelling on one of the roads that never end and they stopped for the night in a place where there was a s
tone house, a well for drawing water and a stable for the horses and mules.

  ‘What is this place?’ Wulf asked one of the Germanic auxiliaries. The Hermunduri warrior said nothing.

  Taurus broke in: ‘The Germanic auxiliaries are not authorized to speak to you. This is a mansio, a changing station. There’s a tavern that serves hot food, with beer for the barbarians and decent wine for us. There are bedrooms, a bathroom with hot water you can pay to use, latrines with running water and soldiers on guard. There is one of these every twenty miles on all of our roads.’

  The two boys exchanged an amazed look. They’d never seen or heard of such a place in all the territory of the Cherusci, and these people had one every twenty miles.

  Smoke was coming out of the chimney, and they could smell meat roasting. There were a number of slaves, both men and women, who were busily lighting lamps, fetching firewood, baking bread and carrying big wine jugs up from an underground room.

  A full moon was rising, and the snow-covered mountains stood out like ghosts against the deep blue sky that glowed turquoise around the silvery moon. Very few constellations could withstand the bright light but those that did seemed like coins hung by a goddess in the firmament. The mountain spurs gave way to barren cliffs, pillars rising in the night.

  ‘Great Thor . . .’ said Wulf in a whisper. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this.’

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Armin.

  ‘I’m thinking that . . . I think that if we’d remained in our village, we never would have seen the road that never ends, or the mountains of ice, or the way the moon makes them shine like silver.’

  ‘We have the moon that shines in our rivers and that mirrors itself in our lakes . . . Wulf, are you forgetting our own land?’

  ‘I’m trying to suffer a little less. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘You’re resigning yourself to your prison? A warrior learns to suffer without complaining or cursing fate. He grits his teeth and swallows his tears.’

  ‘We didn’t even say goodbye to Mother.’

  ‘It was better that way. She would have cried.’

  Taurus walked up, flicking his switch against the palm of his hand. ‘What do you two have to talk about?’

  ‘I didn’t know it was forbidden,’ replied Wulf. ‘Where we come from brothers talk to one another. Sometimes they hit each other or bite each other’s ears. Now we’re talking. Later we’ll see.’

  ‘Don’t get smart with me, unless you want a taste of this. Go inside now, it’s time for dinner. Then off to sleep. Tomorrow we’ll be leaving before dawn.’

  They walked in towards the tavern. The northern wind had carried the stink of the stables and mouldy hay into the courtyard, but all they needed to do was turn back towards the gate and everything changed: the fragrance of the mountain and its flowers blended in a harmony that made them remember the lands they came from. Besides that, the aroma of meat roasting on dwarf pine branches and of freshly baked bread reminded them that they were famished adolescents.

  ‘Do you even like that stuff?’ Armin asked his brother.

  ‘The bread? It’s fantastic,’ replied Wulf. ‘I would eat it every day. I never get tired of it because it tastes good with everything. If we could find the seeds, I’d plant wheat, but I’ll bet you the weather where we come from is too damp and too rainy for it to grow.’

  Armin abruptly changed the subject. He pointed at one of a group of cliffs that towered at the lower part of the mountain, before the snow-capped peaks. ‘Wulf, look. There’s a path up there. There, where the spire that looks like a bull’s horn is. It’s a hidden path. You know how good my eyesight is.’

  Wulf shook his head. ‘I don’t want to hear about it. Armin, you said we had to wait.’

  ‘We’ve waited long enough. Taurus and the auxiliaries won’t be able to use the horses; they are too bulky and heavy to chase us up that way. The mules are still all loaded up so they can’t use them either. All we need is a little food in our knapsacks and some warm clothes. When they get tired of looking for us, we’ll make our way down the other side and we’ll be back home before long.’

  ‘Right, and Father would send us back with a beating. You know he can’t afford to go to war with Rome.’

  ‘He wouldn’t turn us away.’

  ‘If you’re so sure he won’t, then go. I’m not.’

  ‘When we were little we swore we would never separate.’

  ‘We aren’t children any more.’

  ‘All right. I’ll go on my own.’

  ‘Can we at least have dinner together?’ asked Wulf with a wry smile.

  Armin smiled too. ‘A promise is a promise, isn’t it?’

  They walked into the tavern where Centurion Taurus was already sitting with the chief of the Germanic auxiliaries, a giant over six feet tall with a bushy blond moustache. Armed with a long sword, he slapped it down on the table with the evident intention of making Armin and Wulf, who’d sat down opposite him, jump. Neither boy flinched in the least. Armin looked straight into his eyes with a defiant expression.

  ‘What nice-looking boys!’ sneered the warrior. ‘On your way to see the world?’

  ‘We’re not allowed to speak with the servants,’ said Armin. This time Wulf jumped. The giant got to his feet, grabbed the hilt of his huge sword in both hands and raised it as if he would use it to cut Armin in two. Taurus barked out an order in Latin, but the sword was already descending. The blade stopped at a finger’s span from the boy’s head but Armin neither blinked nor took his eyes off the warrior’s.

  Taurus stood in front of the giant, the veins on his neck bulging.

  ‘He offended me!’ bellowed the Germanic chief.

  ‘He’s a child,’ replied the centurion. ‘Take it out on someone your own size, if you’re looking for a fight.’

  ‘I said it,’ said Armin. ‘He’s a servant.’

  The giant, who had been turning to walk out of the room, wheeled around brandishing the sword in his hands again. A heavy blow landed between the two boys, cleaving the solid fir-tree table in two. The food-filled plates, the cups of wine and the jugs of beer crashed to the floor in a huge mess.

  In the confusion no one was watching Armin. When the situation finally calmed down he was already in his bedroom, along with Wulf.

  They stretched out next to one another on the two beds and remained there listening to the noises coming from the ground floor and from the woods surrounding the mansio.

  After a short while, Wulf’s heavy breathing made it clear that he was sleeping deeply.

  Armin shook him. ‘You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?’

  ‘Brother, I told you that your plan of escape does not interest me. It’s stupid and foolhardy. You should sleep too. Tomorrow they’ll be getting us up early and we’ll have another long march ahead of us.’

  ‘Wait,’ replied Armin. ‘Look.’ He took the lamp, raised the flame and laid something out on the floor: Taurus’s tabula. ‘I took advantage of the yelling and confusion to slip it away from him.’

  Wulf nodded. ‘So you started the fight with that yellow-moustached boar?’

  ‘Something like that. But look what it got us! We won’t get lost with this, and if we leave right now, they’ll never find us. The path we need to take is marked here, see? It’s the thin red line that goes between the mountains. By the time they realize we’re gone we’ll be at the foot of the bull-shaped cliff. There’s no snow up to that point so we won’t leave footprints. The full moon and the reflection of the snow will help us to find our way easily. We’ll stay hidden up there until the Romans and the Germanic auxiliaries get tired of chasing after us. Then we’ll go down the other side of the horn and three days later we’ll be home.’

  ‘If it were really so easy, I’d be right behind you,’ said Wulf. ‘But these things only turn out well in fables.’

  Armin sighed. ‘You do what you want. I’ll go alone.’ He glanced over at the light. ‘If you w
ant, you can help me by creating a distraction. Look, right under the window there’s a pile of straw for the mules and hay for the horses . . . count to fifteen after I’m gone and then drop the lamp. It’ll get the guards’ attention and I’ll disappear in the other direction. Farewell, brother!’

  ‘Goodbye,’ said Wulf in a low voice.

  Armin put on his heaviest clothing and boots and jumped down onto the pile of hay, making sure the guards had just passed on their rounds. Wulf started counting and peeked out of the window. Armin had sprung to his feet and was running along the wall of the stable, until he disappeared around the corner.

  ‘Seven . . . eight . . . nine,’ counted Wulf and with every number he became more regretful that he hadn’t jumped with his brother. He saw him reappear at the far end of the stables – ‘ten . . . eleven . . . twelve’ – and climb up the enclosure wall until he’d made it to the top. ‘Thirteen . . . fourteen . . . fifteen . . .’ Wulf tossed the lamp on the hay, which went up in a burst of flame. Armin flattened himself on the top of the wall so he wouldn’t be seen. The glow of the fire spread and cries of alarm resounded all over the courtyard. The neighing and scuffling of the frightened horses and mules added to the atmosphere of confusion and fear.

  Taurus, his legionaries and the Germanic auxiliaries were already at work. They swiftly formed a chain from the well, passing buckets full of water from hand to hand, from one end of the courtyard to the other all the way to the foundations of the mansio, where the fire was burning. The wind carried clouds of sparks towards the stable.

  Wulf had dressed as well and shoved the leftover food he’d brought back to his room into a knapsack. He moved out into the corridor and ran quickly down its length. The pounding of nailed boots up the wooden staircase promised trouble so he opened a window and leapt out onto the boughs of a huge, ancient oak tree. He crouched for a while among the branches until the soldiers had moved on. He then carefully made his way down one of the big boughs that stretched towards the enclosure wall until he was close enough to make another leap onto the roof tiles covering it. He dropped off on the other side and set off running as fast as he could possibly go in the direction of the mountain, turning back now and again to catch a look at the mansio. What had looked like a blazing fire at first soon dimmed into a faintish red halo. He could almost hear the pounding gallop of the Germanic horsemen filling his ears and the jangling of the Roman cavalrymen’s weapons as a furious Taurus led them in the chase.