by James Mace
Germanicus looked at the man coldly. “Those men were sacrificed to the foul deities that inhabit these woods. It was up to me to restore to them some dignity and final grace.”
The augur shook his head, still unconvinced of the righteousness of Germanicus’ actions. “Your motives may not have been without merit, but your actions are still inexcusable in the eyes of the gods. I fear that in the end we may fall out of their favor.”
Germanicus stepped close to the augur and said into his ear, “If by my actions I have fallen out of the gods’ favor, then their favor I no longer want.” Without another word he went back inside his tent, leaving the augur horrified at what he had just heard.
Severus was waiting inside, leaning on a table. He had overheard the entire conversation and found it to be mildly amusing in a dark sort of way. The low light cast by the oil lamp showed the half smile on his face. Germanicus ignored it.
“What are your orders?” Severus asked.
“Tomorrow we will be finished with the burial mound and altar. As soon as they are completed, we will march west against Arminius. Let’s see if we can get him to finally face us in open battle.”
Severus smiled and nodded. “Very good, sir.”
Chapter XI: Frustration and the Roads Home
***
Arminius and Ingiomerus sat on their horses, watching the scouts ride towards them. The Roman army was on the move against them. Having just come from the site of Varus’ final camp, Germanicus, in his fury, would try and force a decisive engagement. Arminius was aware of this. He also feared what would happen if he did face the Romans head on. He did not know the size of their army, nor what they had in terms of auxiliaries. The lead scout stopped his horse in front of them. He was stripped to the waist, carrying only a short sword and small circular shield. Arminius had always insisted that his scouts travel light.
“Hail Arminius, War Chief of the Cherusci!” the man shouted.
Arminius nodded.
The scout commenced with his report. “The Roman army is huge. I counted eight legions plus a full complement of auxiliary infantry and cavalry. Their cavalry are in pursuit of us now. They are but a couple miles behind us.”
Ingiomerus seemed shocked by the numbers.
Arminius was nonplussed. “Our own cavalry will deal with them. Did you see how the Roman legions are arrayed?”
The scout nodded. “I did. They are in full battle array, four legions in front, four in reserve. They are ready for a full-scale engagement. They know we are close, and they seem almost desperate for a fight.”
“Then a fight they shall have,” Ingiomerus said.
Arminius turned and stared at him. “No, Uncle. We cannot be certain of victory here. I will not risk our entire army in a mad charge head on at the Romans. That is just what they want. We will dispatch their cavalry, and then we will withdraw.”
Ingiomerus looked shocked. “You mean to tell me that when we have the entire Roman army in the west at our disposal we are simply going to run?”
“Not run, Uncle. We will withdraw for the time being. It is late in the campaigning season for the Romans. They will have to withdraw to their fortresses across the Rhine sooner or later. And when they do, we will pursue and hunt them down.”
Ingiomerus looked aggravated and disappointed, but he did not argue. They looked over to see their cavalry and impressive numbers of warriors awaiting the approach of the Roman auxiliaries. Soon they saw the shapes of men and horses approaching. Arminius was surprised to see there was no infantry with them. They should have been in sight. Arminius smiled. The cavalry had pushed too far ahead of the main column. They had left themselves exposed and without support. He nodded to Ingiomerus as the first wave of horsemen approached the woods where they sat. Ingiomerus raised his sword, gave a loud battle cry and the Cherusci charged.
Artorius was growing impatient. They had been on the march for several hours. They had deployed into battle formation nearly an hour before, anticipating a clash with the Cherusci at any moment. He scanned out ahead as far as he could see. The cavalry and auxiliary infantry were nowhere in sight. Something wasn’t right. The auxiliaries were supposed to maintain visual contact with the legions in case they got into trouble. Suddenly, he saw cavalrymen riding towards them. They were scattered and in disarray. These men were riding for their lives. What had happened out there?
“So few,” Gavius observed quietly.
Just then they caught sight of the auxiliary infantry. They were obviously spooked. Their numbers looked to be intact, but they were running from whatever it was that had attacked the cavalry.
“Javelins…ready! At the quick step…march!” The order was echoed up and down the lines.
“At last,” Artorius muttered as he shouldered his javelin, ready to throw.
Suddenly the Germans were in sight. There was an enormous horde of them shouting and waving their weapons. Artorius had no way of guessing their actual numbers. He just knew there were probably more of them than there were Romans. The gap started to close between the two armies. His heart pounded in his chest, a trickle of sweat forming on his brow.
Come on, he thought to himself. Just a little closer. His century was in the fourth rank of the cohort, but he knew there would still be plenty of killing to do before the day was done. Then, without warning, the Germans turned around and started running the other way.
What is this? Artorius thought.
Here they were, ready to close in on the Germanic hordes, and they were running away. The Romans maintained their steady pace, their discipline not allowing them to get hotheaded and chase after the barbarians. Soon the Germans were out of sight. Artorius let out a groan of frustration.
“Javelins…at the carry! At the walk…march!”
It was over. The battle they were all hoping for had not taken place. The Germans had mauled their cavalry and then come out to taunt them. Artorius seethed with frustration. He looked around to see that all of his companions were feeling the same way. No one dared to say anything, though. Now was not the time for emotions to run wild. Soon the order was given to stand down and set up camp for the night.
Offensive operations for the campaign were over. Germanicus knew this. The time it would take to try and draw Arminius into a decisive engagement would bring them too close to fall and winter. Arminius had no intention of forcing a major battle, which was made obvious by the day’s actions. Even more frustrating were the losses inflicted upon their auxiliary cavalry. Germanicus had given the survivors a severe tongue lashing for their blatant disregard for safety and failure to maintain proper interval with the infantry. He’d intended to relieve the cavalry commander and then have him flogged, only the man was dead. Germanicus and Severus walked the inside perimeter of their camp as they discussed these things.
“Today was a frustrating day for the men,” Severus observed, “especially having just come from the site of Varus’ final resting place.”
“Arminius is deliberately trying to frustrate us and cause disarray,” Germanicus replied. “I believe that he realizes the futility of engaging us openly. Therefore, he settles for skirmishes, ambushes, and open acts of taunting as he did today. However, while he understands the benefits of his psychological war against us, it is highly doubtful that his fellow war chiefs feel the same way.”
“I agree,” Severus said. “To them it is both honorable and glorious to face their enemies head on. What is it they always say? Better to die with a sword to the guts than in the back. These hit and run tactics may seem like cowardice to his warriors. I think his little display today may have had more of a negative impact on his warriors than it did on our soldiers.”
“Well, it would have, had the cavalry not blundered the way they did. That’s the problem with auxiliaries, no matter how much we work with them they always lack true discipline and don’t think about the repercussions of their actions. Our legionaries would never have allowed themselves to be left so obviously out in the
open and unprotected.”
“Yes, but unfortunately most legionaries can’t ride a horse to save their lives,” Severus replied. “Rome has the finest infantry fighters in the world, yet for some reason most of us lack basic horsemanship skills.”
“So what are your recommendations?” Germanicus asked.
“From what I see, we’ve got a great number of men to get back to our strongholds across the Rhine. To move the entire army as one unit will be cumbersome. We have two routes we can take. We can go north and take the sea back to friendly territory, or we can travel south to the Ahenobarbi bridges and cross there.”
“The bridges are in disrepair and need work done on them,” Germanicus observed. “I’ll send you with your legions to repair the bridges before crossing. It is doubtful in their current state they will hold up under the baggage trains. I will take the remaining legions to the sea to return home.
“One thing to keep in mind, Severus; the road to the Ahenobarbi bridges is well traveled. It may seem obvious to Arminius that this will be our course of action. Also the area around the bridges is mostly marshland. Be extremely careful. I foresee Arminius trying something while you repair the bridges.”
“We’ll be careful,” Severus answered. “I can detail soldiers to fix the bridges, build the necessary fort, and provide security easy enough. I worry more about your choice of traveling by sea at this time of year.”
They continued their walk of the perimeter, stopping to talk with individual soldiers on sentry duty.
“You’re certain this is the route they are taking?” Arminius asked his chief scout.
“Absolutely, oh great war chief,” the scout replied. “I saw the standards of four legions, the First, Fifth, Twentieth, and Twenty-First. They are all headed south, straight for the Ahenobarbi bridges.”
“What of the other legions?” Arminius asked.
“We’re not sure. We saw them heading north, though their exact movements are unknown.”
Arminius paused for a minute and then turned to Ingiomerus. “You see, Uncle? They are heading just where I thought they would. We do not have the forces necessary to attack both armies; however, we have more than enough to inflict serious losses upon those heading towards the bridges.” He took a stick and drew on the dirt. “We will follow them, maintaining about half a day’s distance away, in case they turn back and try to force us into an open battle. They will have to do major repair work on the bridges in order to get their wagons across. We will strike at them as they do so.”
“The marshy terrain will work to their disadvantage,” Ingiomerus observed. “Their heavy armor and weapons will slow them down and hinder their mobility.”
“It will get even worse by the time we’ve prepared the area,” Arminius said as he continued to draw his diagram in the dirt. He then signaled to one of his sub chiefs. “Take your men and start digging a runoff from this tributary here. Once the water is sufficiently diverted, it will increase the water levels in the marshlands, hindering the Romans that much more. When they are sufficiently incapacitated, we will launch our strikes against them.”
The sub chief smiled, yelled orders to his men, and soon vanished.
Arminius looked up at his uncle. “If we do this right, we may add four more legions to our list of the vanquished.”
Ingiomerus smiled and laughed darkly.
Chapter XII: At the Ahenobarbi Bridges
***
“This is absolute shit!” Valens swore as he sank up to his waist in the foul smelling swamp. The marshes surrounding the Ahenobarbi bridges were unusually flooded, which made working on the bridges themselves an even bigger chore.
“They don’t pick the best terrain for us to travel, now do they?” Magnus mused as he handed Valens a piece of timber to replace a sodden brace on the underside of the bridge.
“This is worse than that crap we had to slog our way through in Teutoburger,” Valens continued, taking the timber support from Magnus.
“What I don’t get,” Artorius said as he waded through the marsh with a coil of rope over his shoulder, “is the rivers are not swollen above their banks. There hasn’t been an excess amount of rain this summer, so there is really no reason for the area to be this swampy.”
“I know, it’s like we’re walking through a damn lake,” Praxus said as he and Decimus brought more timber up.
They looked over to see where the sentries were posted. They were nearly up to their knees in water, and all looked nervous about their predicament.
Praxus shook his head. “If we come under attack here, we’ll be in serious trouble.”
“If we do, I hope it comes after the fort is done,” Valens said, looking across the river to where other working parties were digging the ditches and building the palisades.
They continued to work on the supports underneath the bridge until they ran out of supplies. As they crawled out from underneath the bridge a war horn sounded in the distance. All paused, as if stricken.
“You have got to be kidding,” Magnus said.
The horn sounded again, this time accompanied by the sounds of battle cries.
“Afraid not,” Artorius said, as he reached for his helmet, javelin, and shield.
All soldiers had stacked their arms by sections where they could quickly be reached. Unfortunately, there was no dry place for them to do this, so most of their shields were soaked through the bottom half by the time they picked them up.
“Online…two ranks!” Centurion Macro shouted.
In spite of the difficulty in slogging through the swampy water, all soldiers were soon formed up, shield to shield, one rank directly behind the other. Artorius stood behind a soldier from Sergeant Ostorius’ section. He knew that in a defensive engagement if the enemy used missile weapons, his job would be to provide overhead cover for both himself and the soldier in front of him. The man in front would provide frontal protection.
Suddenly the Germans were in sight. They mostly carried slings, throwing spears, and a few bows. All were stripped practically naked. This was a harassment attack. As they surged forward, they unleashed a torrent of sling stones, arrows, and spears.
“Down!” Macro shouted.
As one, the soldiers in the front rank dropped to one knee, keeping their shields in front, linked together. The soldiers in the back rank raised their shields overhead, dropped to one knee and placed their shields over their own heads, as well as those of the soldiers in front of them. As Artorius dropped down, the water level was up to his chest. He heard stones and arrows skip off their wall of shields. He looked to his right and saw other units similarly engaged.
“Up! Javelins… ready!”
As the century rose to its collective feet, the Germans turned and ran back out of range.
“Damn!” Macro swore under his breath. “Is anybody hit?”
Decani immediately checked their men before replying back.
“We’re alright.”
“We’re good.”
“Nobody’s hit.”
“Here they come again.” Optio Valgus called out.
Another wave of missile throwers came at the century.
“Javelins… ready!” Macro shouted.
The Germans were closing fast. It would be a matter of timing: release their javelins and drop back down behind their shield wall before the Germans could unleash. The swampy terrain had to be factored in since it would impede movement and their javelin throwing abilities. Macro thought about all of these things in the few seconds before the Germans were within range of their javelins.
“Front rank…throw!” He shouted.
The men in the front rank raised their javelins and stepped forward as they threw.
“Down!” Macro yelled as the Germans loosed their own volley.
There was no time to see if their javelins struck home or not. The Romans had barely dropped down and raised their shields as the German missiles rained down upon them. Artorius heard a cry of pain from somewhere to his lef
t. Somebody had been hit. There was no time to think about it. A second rank of barbarians, all carrying spears and shields, charged past their companions with the missiles.
“Up!” The centurion ordered. “Second rank…throw!”
Artorius slogged through the marsh past the soldier in front of him, quickly picked out a target, and threw his javelin. The Germans were right on top of them. His javelin flew in a short arc, scoring a precise hit on a warrior not five meters in front of him. The javelin had pierced the man’s heart, and he was dead before he hit the water. Artorius barely had time to draw his gladius before the barbarians collided with their lines.
A burly German crashed into his shield, trying to knock him down. His balance was completely off as he struggled in the marsh. The bottom of his shield dragged through the water, making it nearly impossible for him to punch his opponent. He rapidly jabbed with his gladius, but the barbarian was keeping his distance, and his weapon skipped off the man’s shield. All up and down the line, legionaries were having similar difficulties. A barbarian slammed his body into Carbo’s shield, knocking him down. Fortunately, it also offset the German, and a soldier in the second rank quickly stepped forward and stabbed the barbarian in the throat. Then, as suddenly as it began, the Germans retreated. The Romans watched as the barbarians formed up in the tree lines and started waving their weapons and shouting insults that the Romans could not understand.
Artorius stood panting and frustrated. Three soldiers had been wounded in the exchange. Macro quickly gave orders for them to be evacuated across the bridge to the fort. The ground over there was relatively dry and even; a much better place to fight a battle, if only they could get their damn wagons across. He looked around, wondering who was hurt. Then he heard a voice call out.