Arminius

by Robert Fabbri

  I was stunned by her vehemence that had built as she spoke but understood her resentment, her hatred. She was right: I knew what it was like to have your pride ripped away and control taken from your life and be placed against your will in an environment that was not natural for you. I knew that only too well; and there she was, an incestuous, husband-murdering queen, and I sympathised with her. ‘I would love to see you do that, my lady.’

  She threw her head back and gave a short laugh. ‘So would I, my strong young Germanic warrior, so would I. But I’m afraid that I never will. Not even the Romans are stupid enough not to have learnt from Carrhae; they will never put themselves out in the open desert at the mercy of our massed cavalry again. We will only fight little wars with them now, skirmishes compared to the Carrhae campaign. But you, on the other hand, have legions roaming around your land; legions with Eagles; legions with Eagles waiting to fall. You could do what I cannot now; you could take back Rome’s Eagles and help me restore my pride.’

  I looked at her, this murderess, this lover of her own son, this beauty filled with cold hatred, this Ice Queen and I knew that, regardless of all that she was, I could not, would not, refuse her request. Even if I’d had no desire to humble Rome in the way she wanted, I would have done it for her, no matter the cost, but how I should do it was beyond me. ‘What makes you think that I’d be able to do such a thing, my lady?’

  Musa smiled and it pierced my heart. ‘Already you are trusted by Rome; you are Lucius’ companion and Augustus himself sent you out here to accompany him. You are a favoured hostage and because Roman arrogance is unbounded, they assume that if you become like one of them then you will always be that way; they cannot conceive of the possibility of a man having tasted the fruits and comforts of Rome wanting to turn his back on her. Your path will not be the Cursus Honorum, the succession of offices both military and magisterial that high-born Romans follow; yours will be purely military. You will be given command and responsibility, not in the legions but in the auxiliaries.’

  And then I remembered the last thing that my father had said to me before I left for Rome with Centurion Sabinus almost eight years previously: Rome is going to train the very troops who’ll form the backbone of the army that will free us from her; I call that a satisfactory conclusion to our business. The germ of a thought that I’d already had now sprouted: it dawned on me just how I could defeat Rome and the path I must take to do so; it was with growing certainty that I said: ‘I’ll serve Rome well in her auxiliaries and then when I have nothing but the Emperor’s trust and respect I shall beg to be allowed to lead my own men.’ I looked down at the masked cavalry helmet that I had placed on the floor next to me. ‘Lucius’ gift to me shall come of use; I shall get the Emperor to make me the prefect of the Cheruscian auxiliary cavalry ala.’

  Musa smiled again and I had to supress a desire to grab her and hold her, to possess her. ‘Exactly, my brave Germanic warrior; the Romans still persist in the dangerous folly of allowing their auxiliaries to serve in their own provinces. The Cherusci, Chatti, the Frisii all have treaties with Rome that oblige them to provide men for the auxiliary cohorts and many of these cohorts serve in Germania Magna protecting the legions based there.’

  It was my turn to smile. ‘It would be so simple once it was planned.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it just? At the moment there are three legions stationed in Germania Magna; all you would have to do is find some way to manoeuvre the Governor into bringing one of them into a vulnerable position.’

  ‘He would have to be a certain sort of man; one who acts in a predictably Roman way,’ I said. I considered my theory as to whether Romans could all be predicted to act in the same way given a certain set of circumstances that immediately threatened Rome. ‘But given time I’m sure that I could manufacture the circumstances to get the Governor somewhere at a place of my choosing where there’s enough of a threat to make it prudent for even the most unmartial of men to have the auxiliary cohorts scouting on the flanks.’

  ‘And then destroy that legion with the very troops that have been trained by them to protect them.’

  ‘The grand gesture would be to destroy the other two legions as they come to their comrades’ aid.’

  Musa looked quizzical. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘The grand gesture: it’s what Lucius taught me. If you do something, do it in a way that is so monumental that it can’t be undone. That’s what this will be. I’ve always dreamt of leading my people in revolt against Rome but that would be nothing compared to this. This way, if I could make alliances with the auxiliaries from other tribes as well as get the tribesmen themselves behind me, I could destroy Rome’s presence east of the Rhenus and north of the Danuvius with just three blows.’

  She reached out her hand to me and I took it with pleasure. ‘I knew you would understand. Now concentrate on that objective and that objective only. Take back their Eagles and restore yours and my pride.’

  And so it was that the course of my life was set.

  The following day we …

  Thumelicatz raised his hand, stopping Tiburtius. ‘I don’t think we need to know the tiresome details of how Phraates fooled Gaius into crossing the river. Gaius was furious and tried to leave but Lucius persuaded him that his dignity would be even more impinged upon if he was seen not only to have been tricked by an Easterner but then compounded the matter by running away from him as well. And the treaty, as I’m sure you Romans know, was signed.’

  The patrician stood and stretched his legs. ‘What happened to Phraates?’

  ‘My father mentions a little later that he married his mother a few years after and tried to make her queen. That was too much even for the Parthian nobility and they killed him. As for Musa, well, she died at the same time and probably, knowing the Parthians, with more between her legs than she had ever had before. But there is no need to feel any pity for her after the murders she had instigated; neither is there any need for the next scroll as it is concerned only with my father’s last couple of years back in Rome. We shall pick up the story nearly three years later with my father having already convinced Augustus of his complete loyalty. Aius, that scroll, please.’

  CHAPTER VI

  Chlodochar looked at me, his hatred undisguised. ‘Never, Arminius, never. I’ll not ride with you and your filthy Cherusci.’

  His reply had been in Latin to the question that I’d put to him in our tongue; it illustrated perfectly just how far we were apart. I tried a different approach, hoping to change his mind at the very last moment for our ship sailed for Massalia at noon. ‘If you come with me and serve in the auxiliaries we’ll eventually get home; we’ll see our parents again, our sister, our homeland …’

  Chlodochar spat. ‘All that is dead to me. I’m not a savage and nor am I stupid: Augustus may trust you enough to put you in command of the Cherusci cavalry ala but I know you’ll turn and bite his hand as soon as you can and I’ll not be a part of it; I’ll not suffer for your treachery. Rome is everything I need.’

  ‘If I did that you’d die, because if you remain here you remain a hostage.’

  ‘I’m a friend of Germanicus; I’m a Roman of the equestrian class. I’m no hostage to the good behaviour of a barbarian father or brother.’

  I stared at him, our eyes locked, unblinking, and I saw that he was completely lost to me and my tribe; there was nothing else to say. I turned on my heel and left the house of Antonia for the last time to begin a journey that I hoped would take me home. With my heart by turns heavy from the loss of a brother and light at the thought of finally leaving Rome, I joined Lucius and his small group of staff officers for the short ride to Ostia, the port of Rome, for our paths were the same for a little while.

  It was not normal for the road to Ostia to have so many crosses lining it but as we rode through the gates and then on past the granaries, leaving Rome behind us, I was struck by the number of executions of non-citizens there had been recently. Rome was showing all who arrived at he
r gates the fate in store for anyone who opposed her.

  ‘There was a small revolt by the public slaves in Ostia,’ Lucius explained as he noticed me shaking my head at the scale of the executions.

  Sejanus, who had been seconded to Lucius’ staff now that Gaius was spending all his time in the Senate, hawked, sending a globule of phlegm to splatter on the bloodied, broken legs of a victim, now on the point of death. ‘The Emperor told my father to show them no mercy so he divided the prisoners in half.’ He grinned. ‘These are the lucky ones.’

  ‘And the others?’ I asked.

  ‘The marble quarries up at Carrara; they’ll take two years to die rather than two days.’ He laughed; the others joined him.

  I pretended to join in with the laughter, but as I did a mark on one of the corpses caught my eye; on the chest, over the heart, visible beneath the sheen of blood, was a tattoo that I recognised immediately for I had seen it many times before in my childhood and I hoped that one day I would bear such a symbol: it was a wolf; the wolf of the Cherusci.

  The false laughter died in my throat as I looked at the once-valiant warrior passing from this Middle-Earth without a weapon in his hand; how would he find Walhalla now?

  Rome had much to pay for.

  *

  The port of Massalia is a mixed city, founded by the Greeks in the area of Gaul that is now called Narbonensis, which the Romans just refer to as the Province as their dominion over it is so old; it has for generations been the hub of all Gallo-Romano trade and consequently has a population made up mainly of merchants and thieves – the two professions being interchangeable in my experience.

  Augustus had given me no firm orders as to how I should reach Oppidum Ubiorum, the provincial capital of Germania Inferior, on the Rhenus, so long as I was there by mid-June in order to make the rendezvous with the Cheruscian cavalry ala that was to be my new command; I had, therefore, decided to accompany Lucius as our road was shared until we reached Lugudunum. I had realised that this was probably going to be the last opportunity to spend time with him before our military service divided us, he to the legions and me to the auxiliaries. And once I had further proved my loyalty by killing Rome’s enemies for her with my new command of Cheruscian cavalry I was determined to take them back to Germania and then … well, and then I knew that I would not be coming back and Lucius and I would become enemies.

  But in the end I was saved that.

  As soon as we disembarked in Massalia’s military port I could feel that there was something wrong with Lucius; his energy had lessened and that was not due to the six days at sea from Ostia. Having made a half-dozen or so voyages with him, I knew that he was never affected by the sickness they could induce. Normally when we sailed into a new city he would suggest a drinking session of bacchanalian proportions that would last for a couple of very enjoyable days and leave a trail of debris, debt and dead. In Massalia, however, Lucius just busied himself with following Augustus’ instructions, mustering the four cohorts of legionary recruits that had been waiting for him there. He spent a couple of days watching them manoeuvre, satisfying himself that their training was adequate, whilst the rest of the officers on his staff terrorised the quarter-masters into emptying the contents of their warehouses – which, after a couple of summary executions, they consented to.

  ‘The bastards need to be taught a lesson,’ Lucius informed his staff in his evening briefing at the garrison prefect’s sumptuous residence on our third day in Massalia. ‘Sejanus, organise some surprise inspections; if you find any evidence of another quarter-master hoarding equipment for his own profit then have his head off too. The fact that it is common practice is not an excuse as far as I’m concerned. I’ll not have my men march five hundred miles without sufficient tents, spare boots, tunics and cloaks, along with adequate rations and enough weaponry to kill the enemy when we get there and, of course, the mules and carts to transport it all.’ He glared around at his officers, his eyes hard with indignation; sweat on his forehead glistening in the lamplight. ‘Once we’ve finally got everything we need have the rest of the quarter-masters broken down to the ranks; they can come with us and be reminded of the importance of replacement equipment.’

  ‘Even the honest ones, sir?’ a young thin-stripe tribune asked.

  ‘I’ve never heard of an honest quarter-master, so yes; then perhaps next time I arrive somewhere needing supplies I’ll be treated with a little more respect.’

  ‘Or they’ll hide their stock better before you arrive,’ Oppius, the prefect of the small Massalia garrison, pointed out. ‘They’re very devious and I should know; they consider everything in their warehouses as their own personal property and hate losing it.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have let it get to this state in the first place; how much do they pay you to turn a blind eye?’ Lucius gestured with his wine cup around the marble and bronze busts, the expensively crafted glass, silverware and furniture that made up the lavish decor of the room; he took a sip. ‘And your wine seems to be of the finest quality; proper Italian Falernian, not that Gallic imitation muck.’ He pointed over to two amphorae standing in the corner. ‘And plenty of it too.’

  ‘I resent the inference, Caesar; I’m scrupulous in overseeing the supply line through here and then on up to the Rhenus frontier.’

  ‘Then why were my officers forced to summarily execute two of the quarter-masters?’

  ‘Because they were being too greedy.’

  Lucius turned on him, his face paling with what we all assumed was anger at the man’s obvious lackadaisical attitude to the theft of military property, until he choked and then spluttered, suddenly fighting for breath. I, along with a few others, rushed to catch him as his legs started to buckle and his eyes bulged. We eased him onto a couch; his chest was heaving as he managed to suck in small amounts of air. ‘Get back, give him room,’ I shouted, automatically taking charge as it was my friend who was suffering. I opened Lucius’ mouth and seeing no obvious constriction in his throat stuck a finger in deep, turning his head to one side. He convulsed and then, with a massive effort, vomited, spraying the feet of those around him. With another heave, he emitted a further gush and then began to pant, short sharp breaths; he closed his eyes and then after a few moments gained control of his breathing.

  ‘Get out,’ he murmured, ‘all of you.’

  After a moment of indecision we began to withdraw; Lucius grabbed my arm. ‘Not you, Arminius; I need someone that I can trust to get me something to drink.’

  ‘Trust?’

  ‘Yes, trust; someone I know who would not work for Livia.’

  I poured him a cup of water from the jug on Oppius’ desk.

  Lucius shook his head. ‘No, Arminius, not from there; throw that away. Get me some wine from one of those sealed amphorae that were already here; not one that we brought with us.’

  I emptied the water onto the floor, took one of the amphorae from the corner, breaking its wax seal and pulling out the stopper, and refilled the jug. ‘What makes you suspect that Livia is trying to poison you?’ I filled his cup and passed it to his shaking hand.

  ‘If she gets rid of me then Augustus will only have Gaius left to inherit; every wise ruler should at least have a spare. But if Gaius should also die young?’

  I understood immediately. ‘Then he’ll be forced to recall Tiberius from Rhodos?’

  Lucius took a sip, spilling a good deal down his chin. ‘And Livia gets her son back and can pretty much name her terms. I realised that this was what she planned as I began to feel weaker and weaker on the voyage here; someone was poisoning me and I couldn’t work out how as we all shared food and drink. But I worked out why.’

  ‘And you’re sure that it’s Livia?’

  ‘Who else would gain from my death?’

  I filled his cup again and this time he drank more steadily, his breathing calming. ‘How can we stop her?’

  Lucius shook his head. ‘I think it’s too late; somehow she’s managed to administer a
lethal dose of a slow-acting poison before we left. I have not eaten or drunk anything that wasn’t shared between us all and I’ve been very careful as to which cups or plates I’ve used, always swapping them with someone else on some pretext or another. And yet I’ve been getting progressively worse so that I’m finding it hard to breathe sometimes and my vision keeps blurring. I’ve written to Gaius to warn him that he’s next, but you know what he’s like, he won’t believe me. Livia will win.’

  I got to my feet. ‘I’m going to call for a doctor.’

  Lucius laughed; it was thin and full of regret. ‘Don’t bother, my friend; I’m beyond doctors. Livia wouldn’t be foolish enough to use anything that had a possible remedy; she’s far too good for that.’

  ‘Then what can we do?’

  ‘Do? Nothing; but I need you to make me a promise for the sake of the friendship that we have had.’

  ‘If I can I will.’

  ‘What might stop you being able to?’

  ‘I don’t know; it’s just.’ I trailed off unable to give him the reason which I knew to be that I planned never to go back to Rome. ‘What is it you want me to do?’

  ‘Just this: avenge me.’

  We sent Lucius’ body back to Rome the following morning; he had died at midnight. My grief was countered by my concern as to how to make good my promise to my dying friend because I hoped never to go back to Rome. But the fate that the Norns weave for us is always full of twists and turns and we are blind to their purpose.