So intent were the Marcomanni on pulling the trapped and immobile cavalrymen down from their mounts for slaughter and so raucous was the din of the combat that our charge remained unnoticed until I sliced my blade into the bare head of a young warrior. I took the crown from his skull like the top of a macabre hard-boiled egg filled with grey, rather than yellow, yolk that sprayed over his comrades, alerting them to our contact. But a surprise flank attack is very hard to recover from as the momentum of the impact sends men sprawling sideways and very quickly cohesion is lost and the formation is penetrated. Through their mass we went, reaping limbs and lives with bloody swipes of our swords and stabs of our spears, slowing the further we went as the Marcomanni were pushed together before us; but the mounted soldiers of the Batavians, seeing us arriving to their aid, renewed their struggles. Taking advantage of their foe’s disorder they reared their horses so that their front hoofs flailed, cracking open heads and breaking collar-bones. Within a very few heartbeats the Marcomanni were being pushed back in two directions leaving grim corpses and howling wounded in their wake. Smeared with gore, I worked my sword with growing joy, not so much as a result of the success of the attack but more because these Marcomanni had just showed me how a small force of tribal warriors could negate a more numerous and better-disciplined Roman force. If we had not come to the rescue from the flank Varus would have perished. So, I pondered as the warriors turned and fled whence they had come and we followed them up with as much cruelty as we could summon, what would have happened if we had been on the Marcomanni’s side? If the troops that protected the flank of a Roman column could be turned against their charge then that column would be surrounded, and the truth of my father’s last words struck me full and hard: Rome is going to train the very troops who’ll form the backbone of the army that will free us from her. I now saw proof of Musa’s vision of how a legion could be destroyed and completely understood the direction of my father’s thought: if my Cherusci ala and all the other Germanic auxiliary units protecting a marching column should turn on the legionaries that they were supposed to protect and if they were then joined by warriors from the tribes, it would be only a matter of time, if the terrain and conditions were right, before that column was destroyed.
And then Lucius’ influence came unbidden to my mind: why stop at just a column? Why not an army? A whole army, the army of Germania Magna; the army that the man who disdained to scout ahead or cover his rear, the man whose life I had just saved, would soon be in command of That would be the grandest of gestures: the annihilation of every Roman serviceman on Germania Magna’s soil.
As these thoughts filled my mind, Varus approached, jumped from his horse and embraced me. ‘My friend, we all owe you a great debt; with just a few men you saved us from a very unpleasant situation and I shall never forget that.’
I bowed my head. ‘It was just my duty, sir.’
‘A duty that only a Roman can understand: to save the lives of his comrades in peril rather than run and ensure his own safety; I see now that your time in Rome has been the making of you, Arminius.’
I did nothing to dissuade him of that view as a messenger from the main army arrived now that he was finally able to make his way through.
‘Well?’ Varus asked the man. ‘How’s the crossing going?’
‘It’s not, sir. It has been abandoned.’
‘Abandoned?’
‘Yes, sir. I’ve been sent to recall you to the west bank. Just after you crossed a courier arrived from the Emperor; there has been a huge uprising in Pannonia that’s spreading. Augustus has ordered Tiberius to take his army south and suppress it with all necessary force. The advance units have already left.’
‘And so began the Pannonian revolt,’ Thumelicatz said, ‘but that is of little interest to us, as my father served with distinction and ruthlessness leading punishment raids, burning villages, ambushing raiding parties and the like in what was a dirty war of attrition. But despite the Marcomanni remaining nominally unsubdued, Varus was confirmed as the Governor of Germania Magna and took up his position the following year. Two years after that, with the rebellion in Pannonia now under control, my father’s ala was posted north; he was finally going home and it was a homecoming that he had by now long planned. Read on, Aius.’
CHAPTER VII
We crossed the Rhenus at Castra Vetera, the Eighteenth Legion’s winter quarters, and then followed the Road of the Long Bridges east along the River Lupia, the border between the lands of the Marsi to its south and the Bructeri on the northern bank. Although the memory of my forefathers’ country had faded in the sixteen years that I had been away, little seemed to have changed: the settlements and farmsteads were still organised in a familiar way around the central longhouse of the senior family; the fields around them were still divided into small areas rather than the vast, slave-worked fields of Roman farms; and the people toiling in them still wore Germanic dress. The only difference was the military road that we were following, which led right into the heart of Germania so that Rome’s legions could penetrate her at will and with impunity.
If my men were happy at the prospect of returning home after six years’ service then it can only be imagined how I was feeling after my long exile. But here I was now, returning home a Roman citizen with equestrian rank leading four hundred auxiliary cavalry, proud men of my tribe, the Cherusci, trained by Rome to fight for her; but now they had been delivered into my hands they would become one of the tools of Rome’s demise in Germania.
My orders were to report to the Governor, my old acquaintance, Publius Quinctilius Varus. The fact that he was still in my debt from Raetia meant, I hoped, that it would be easy to ingratiate myself with him; if I was to bring the man down then it was vital that I should have his complete trust. I had been told by the prefect of the camp at Castra Vetera that Varus had headed east at the beginning of the campaigning season with the intention of marching through Germania with three legions, the Seventeenth, Eighteenth and Nineteenth, to assert Rome’s authority over the new province and to bring the people a taste of her law. A more inept politician, jurist and soldier could not have been chosen for such a delicate task.
‘He expected us to see justice in Roman law and fairness in her taxes,’ Mallovendatz, the young king of the Marsi, complained to me as we sat in his hall, drinking. It was the fourth night of my journey east. ‘He takes no account of the ways of our people when making his judgements, often outraging both the plaintiff and the defendant.’ Mallovendatz waved a dismissive hand at my auxiliary prefect’s uniform. ‘What’s more, he’s taxing us to the extreme in order to raise money for Roman expansion onto the east bank of the Albis. But I suppose that you will defend his actions as you are now one of them.’
I bridled at the insult but managed to keep my face neutral by taking a large swig of ale; it would not suit my purposes to fall out with this young, proud king. Indeed, it would not suit my purposes to fall out with any of the leaders of the Germanic tribes this side of the Albis. ‘How many men do you have serving in Rome’s army?’
Mallovendatz’s pale blue eyes smiled at me, calculating, over the rim of his drinking horn. ‘My men are free to take Rome’s silver.’
‘So that you don’t have to provide them with yours?’
The Marsi king slammed his horn down, spilling foaming beer over the board; conversation around us died and the dozen of my men who had accompanied me looked nervous, counting the Marsi warriors seated at long rows of benches throughout the smoke-hazed hall. ‘You dare to impugn my generosity to my men in my own hall, Erminatz? You who’ve lived off Rome’s scraps for the best part of your life? You who have no men following you other than those that Rome gave you?’
I raised my palms to him and inclined my head to one side to show that I conceded the point and wished to take the argument no further. ‘I apologise.’
He grunted and held his horn out for a thrall to fill; the warriors surrounding us got back to their conversations satisfied that
their lord was not in a dispute that would lead to violence.
I leant closer to him across the table. ‘But seriously, Mallovendatz, how many men from your tribe do serve Rome?’
He eyed me suspiciously but saw no guile on my face as it was a genuine question and not meant to trap him. ‘There are eight hundred infantry, give or take, serving with the First Marsian cohort under their own officers and not Roman imports.’
‘Even the prefect?’
‘Yes, he’s my cousin, Egino.’
I grinned, amused by the arrogance and stupidity of Rome. ‘Well, that’s just perfect.’
The Marsian king looked quizzical. ‘Is it? In what way?’
‘You can still control them. How many others of your men take Roman silver?’
‘Another four hundred serving with the Fourth Germanic cohort; the other half are Bructeri.’
‘I imagine that the tension is quite high in that cohort.’
Mallovendatz shook his head, ruefully. ‘That’s what I mean: they take no notice of our ways and force my men to serve alongside our neighbours with whom, if we weren’t occupied by Rome, we would normally be at war.’
I, along with everyone in Germania Magna and the two Germanic Roman provinces west of the Rhenus, was well aware of the antipathy between the Marsi and their neighbours to the north of the Lupia. I lowered my voice. ‘But we are occupied by Rome and so for once you’re not at war with the Bructeri, which means that they could be regarded as …?’
He wiped the froth from his long, blond beard and cocked a quizzical eyebrow. ‘As not quite enemies at the moment?’ He chuckled, enjoying his weak joke.
‘If that’s how you want to term them, then yes. The point is that you have over a thousand fully trained and armed men within the Roman occupation force …’
‘Plus an ala of cavalry.’
‘Twelve hundred infantry and almost five hundred cavalry; and what do the Bructeri have?’
He thought for a few moments. ‘About the same in infantry and twice the number in cavalry.’
I knew that I had his attention now as it would have taken a great effort for him to swallow his pride and admit that the Bructeri outdid the Marsi at anything, even in serving Rome. ‘And between you, how many warriors could you call to arms?’
He drank deep of his ale as he did the calculation in his head. ‘Between us we could raise eight thousand well-armed men and another five thousand dregs plus five hundred or so cavalry each.’
‘Put those warriors together with the auxiliaries and what would you have?’
He grinned at the thought. ‘I can see what you’re getting at, my friend; but that force would not be enough to stop three legions.’
‘I agree,’ I said, conceding the point, ‘it wouldn’t be enough to stop three legions in formation; but us combined with four other tribes in an alliance with no one tribe supreme, an alliance of All Men, and against three legions stretched out on the march?’
He stared at me in shock. ‘How would you get three legions into a position that you could ambush them like that?’
‘You leave that to me, Mallovendatz; the point is, if I do then would you stand, together with your ancestral enemies, and fight the common foe?’ I fixed him with hard eyes, grabbed his left wrist and lowered my voice to a harsh whisper. ‘If you want the freedom to fight against your enemies again, whenever you want, then first you have to stand together with them, behind me. I intend to free this land in a way that it stays free, and to do that means that we have to kill every last Roman soldier here so that they will be too afraid to come back.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Why should you be the leader? You’re not even a king.’
‘That’s exactly why, Mallovendatz: I’m not a king; and, as you so rightly and delicately pointed out, I have been living off Rome’s scraps for the best part of my life and I have no men other than what Rome has given me. My father, Siegimeri, still lives and is still king of the Cherusci so I have no position in Germania other than what Rome has given me: prefect of the Cheruscian auxiliary ala. I can expect to be trusted by Varus because he will see me as more Roman than Germanic; that trust will only come to me and me alone and that trust will be his downfall. Join me and I will get a confederation of the tribes together; all equal in the alliance of All Men.’
Mallovendatz contemplated this for a few swigs of ale as his men and mine broke into a raucous drinking song thumping their horns on the table in time and slapping their thighs. ‘I cannot give you my word that I will join you, yet; but what I can say is that I will not work against you. I will repeat nothing of what you’ve said this evening and I will be ready to aid you if it looks as though you will succeed.’
‘In other words you won’t risk being on the losing side?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m on the losing side at the moment, why make it worse for myself?’
I knew that was the best that I would get from him and, in fact, it was a reasonable position to take; after all, who would be mad enough to commit themselves to taking on three Roman legions?
And it was with a similar reaction that Engilram, the elderly king of the Bructeri, greeted my proposal when I visited him, two nights later, in his hall just to the north of Aliso, the largest Roman fort on the road. I had left most of my ala camped outside the walls of Aliso, crossed the Lupia and ridden, with a dozen companions, the twenty miles to the Bructeri’s chief town situated on the fringe of the Teutoburg Wald, the great forest of the north. Here I was received with courtesy, taken on a boar hunt into the forest, given meat and ale of the highest quality, listened to with polite attentiveness and then bidden farewell with vague statements of support should the circumstances look opportune and the time seem right and other such platitudes. Again I could not blame Engilram for his hesitancy; he was, after all, long in years and had not survived to that age by behaving rashly. Nor could I find fault with Adgandestrius, the young king of the Chatti, who seemed intent in copying Engilram’s longevity by also refusing to give me his unqualified support despite the fact that I had ridden almost sixty miles out of my way to visit him in his hall at Mattium, the Chatti’s main stronghold.
‘My people will only follow me against Rome if they are certain of victory,’ Adgandestrius informed me as we talked in private in one corner of his great hall. ‘In my father’s time we lost too many lives in reprisal raids for attacks on Rome that failed. Now that he feasts in Walhalla I’m determined not to give him the company of any more of my warriors needlessly. Three legions will be hard to destroy even if you do manage to lure them somewhere they can’t manoeuvre; what made you choose the Teutoburg Wald?’
‘I was there a few days ago speaking with Engilram—’
Adgandestrius spat his disgust at the name. ‘You don’t expect that snake to support you, do you?’
‘At the moment I don’t expect anyone to support me because everyone seems to be more concerned for their life than their honour.’
Adgandestrius’ eyes flashed with anger but he remained outwardly calm. ‘It’s not good manners to insult your host.’
‘I didn’t mean it as an insult; just as a plain statement of fact.’ I put my hand up to stop his reply. ‘Everyone that I’ve spoken to so far loves the idea of freeing Germania Magna from Rome but no one is prepared to strike the first blow just in case it goes wide of the mark. To do this thing I must know that the tribes will follow. What good would it do if I manage to trick Varus into taking his army into the Teutoburg Wald and I only have three or four cohorts of auxiliaries to turn on him with? There have to be thousands of warriors ready to descend upon his column from both sides once he realises that his own auxiliaries have played him false. We must hit him hard, with as many warriors as possible whilst he’s still surprised, if we are to annihilate him; if we let him slip away then it will become a running battle over days and we might never manage to finish him off.’ I slammed my fist into my palm and looked, cold-eyed, at the young Chatti king. ‘In the Teutoburg Wald
we can hide enough men to stop Rome once and for all; but those men will not be there if their kings don’t lead them there.’
Although he was roughly the same age as me, Adgandestrius laughed at me as if I were a small child making some big and unobtainable boast. ‘Do you really think that you can do it? You? Unite enough tribes to destroy three legions? Everyone will just see you as Rome’s stooge strutting about in a uniform that they gave you when you denied your own kind and took Rome’s citizenship.’
It was my turn to get angry but I knew that to pick a fight with this haughty young king would in no way hasten the defeat of Rome, so I bit my tongue and tried to calm my breathing. ‘That’s just the point; are you so obtuse that you cannot see that this uniform is the key to our victory? If every Germanic warrior in the uniform of Rome turned on her at one time when she doesn’t expect it then that element of surprise would double their numbers. But there must be reinforcements; you, Engilram, Mallovendatz, the kings of the Chauci, the Sugambri as well as my own tribe, the Cherusci, must bring their men to the Teutoburg Wald at a time of my choosing. Think, Adgandestrius, think of the army that we could have; think what that army could do if it surprised three legions in column.’
Adgandestrius twirled his beard with a finger, contemplating the mental image. ‘When will this be?’
I felt a relief pass through me. ‘Not this year, this year I have to gain Varus’ trust. It will be next year as he marches west along the Road of the Long Bridges at the end of the campaigning season. If I manufacture a rebellion to the north he will divert there to suppress it. It’s about the timing; I need to get him to turn north so that he will pass through the Teutoburg Wald. With our auxiliaries acting as his guides we will be able to lead him to a killing ground and there we can finish it.’
The Chatti king smiled to himself. ‘Very well, Erminatz. I will await your word, but I will bring my warriors to your ambush. However, there is one condition.’
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