Arminius

by Robert Fabbri

  ‘Name it.’

  ‘That if the first action does not go well we will not join in.’

  ‘So if the initial attack fails you would run and leave us to die.’

  Adgandestrius shrugged. ‘My father told me that one of the greatest rules of war is never to reinforce failure.’

  I left him knowing that I would get no firmer commitment from him. However, his men would be there and he would be absolutely right to obey his father’s advice. I would just have to ensure that the initial attack would not be a failure.

  That problem occupied my mind as we travelled through the dark Becanis Forest and then crossed the Visurgis River to come finally once more into the lands of the Cherusci. The plan had been forming in my mind since seeing the dense magnitude of the Teutoburg Wald whilst hunting with Engilram: the forest was hilly, thickly wooded and studded with ravines, and if an army was rash enough to enter it then its progress through it would be dangerously slow.

  However, that was not the forest’s main advantage; what really got me thinking was its positioning just to the north of the Road of the Long Bridges. For over a hundred miles the road skirted the forest’s southern flank and it was along that road every autumn that Rome’s legions marched back to their winter bases on the Rhenus. If I were to bring Varus news of a fictional rebellion to the north when he was a quarter of the way across then he would be left with three choices: go back and around, go forward and then around, or just turn north and navigate the forest. That third choice would seem like the quickest to him because he would be travelling in a straight line. With his Germanic auxiliaries guiding him he would feel safe enough – until they turned on him, that is; which they would do with ease because they were serving under their own officers.

  But to make this work I would already have needed to have hidden at least twenty thousand men in the forest; and that would be the challenge: how would I move twenty thousand fully armed warriors from all over the land to a single location without the Romans noticing? And once that had been achieved how would I be able to keep them supplied for as long as it would take to lead Varus and his legions to them?

  So I pondered the logistical problem as we traversed the lush farmland of the Cherusci with the massif of the Harzland, crowned by its highest hill, the Brocken, growing ever larger before us. And by the time we trailed up the winding track that led to my father’s hall I had got nearer to solving it; the answer seemed obvious. But then the sight of the home that I had not seen for sixteen years drove it from my mind as the joy of returning to my family washed through me and I kicked my horse forward to gallop the last quarter of a mile.

  My reunion with my father and mother was as bitter as it was sweet; my sister had died in the time of the Ice Gods in May of that year, exactly the sixteenth anniversary of my brother and me leaving for Rome. Tears wetted my father’s beard as he gave me the news and told me how she had lived her life bereft of her two brothers, her sadness making her unable to conceive so there were no grandchildren.

  ‘And what news of Chlodochar?’ my father asked as we sat next to the open fire in his hall, drinking deep in memory of the woman who, as a young girl, was but a hazy memory for me.

  I wiped the ale from my lips with the back of my hand and put my drinking horn down. ‘He’s lost to us, Father; he loves all thing Roman and has no memory of his life here.’

  My father’s face darkened. ‘How did you allow that to happen? It was you that was to keep him safe.’

  ‘There was nothing that I could do, Father. He became the special friend of Germanicus, one of the Princes of Rome, and refused to talk our language with me. I doubt that he could remember more than a dozen words of it; he said it was a language for savages. He refused to serve with me in the Cherusci ala, staying instead with Germanicus. I saw him last when we served together in Pannonia, two years ago; he refused to speak to me, even in Latin.’

  My father ruminated upon my words for a few moments. ‘This Germanicus, is he the son of Drusus?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘Then he will probably become as great a general as Drusus was and Chlodochar will serve him.’

  ‘He will, in fact he already is becoming such; which means that Chlodochar and I will face each other across the battlefield one day when Germanicus comes looking for me for what I’ve done.’

  ‘What have you done, my son?’

  ‘I’ve dared to dream. Do you remember the last thing you said to me?’

  ‘It was a long time ago.’

  ‘But it stayed in my head. You told me that “Rome is going to train the very troops who’ll form the backbone of the army that will free us from her”. That thought has stayed with me and now I’ve worked out how to use those troops that Rome has so kindly given us.’ I outlined my plan for the destruction of Varus and the problems that I foresaw while my father just stared at me, dumbfounded.

  ‘In one strike you plan to kill every legionary in Germania Magna?’

  ‘Yes, Father; a grand gesture.’

  ‘Very grand indeed.’

  ‘And taught to me by a Roman.’ I smiled at the memory of Lucius and wondered what he would have thought of my plan; no doubt he would have approved of the concept if not the objective. ‘I’ll time it so that the garrisons that have been left behind will be massacred as soon as we make contact with Varus’ army. Then we hold the Road of the Long Bridges against any contingents trying to escape in good order and scour the countryside for stragglers; there’ll be no quarter. A few will get back across the Rhenus but that is to our good; they will tell of the wrath of Germania Magna and their comrades will fear to come back and avenge the dead. But they will eventually come back for vengeance and that is when we must draw them into the heart of the country; we will not face them by the Rhenus, let them come; we will face them on the Albis, far from their bases. We will harry their supply lines and make them fear to be cut off so far from home, lost in our forests. In short, Father, we will make them see that there is no future for Rome here and they would do better to let us run our own affairs. Our men will still serve in the auxiliary cohorts, our merchants will still trade with the empire, but their tax-farmers, their laws and their language will stay on the other side of the Rhenus. Germanic culture will survive untouched by Latin influence but our people will still benefit from Rome’s silver.’

  My father shook his head, more in wonder than disbelief. ‘It was my dream too to use the troops that Rome trained against her. In the years that you’ve been away, my son, I have searched and waited for an opportunity to do the very thing that you have outlined, but just for the Cherusci and just against one legion, in the hope that our victory would encourage other tribes to deal with the rest as they came to revenge themselves upon us.’

  ‘But you know, Father, deep down, that the other tribes would do nothing; they would watch you be ripped apart by Rome and cheer as it happened. That’s the reality of Germanic unity.’

  ‘I’m afraid that you’re right, Erminatz; I haven’t been able to get one king to support the idea of joint action.’

  ‘Because you’re a king yourself and what king would want to make himself subservient to another?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Then he paused and looked at me, the idea slowly dawning. ‘But you’re no king. You’re just a man with a dream, a Germanic dream that kings could hold onto without losing their dignity to another. How will you get them together?’

  ‘I’ve spoken to Adgandestrius, Engilram, Mallovendatz and now you.’

  ‘Who else will you approach?’

  ‘Just the Chauci and the Sugambri.’

  ‘All the tribes around the Teutoburg Wald. What about Maroboduus of the Marcomanni in the south? If they took our cause it would be a major boost; they number many.’

  ‘No, Father, it must be just those six. To have big groups of warriors travel too far will attract the attention of Rome’s spies and Varus will become suspicious. For this to succeed I have to start mustering men in the f
orest at least a month before the attack, taking a few hundred in every day from different tribes.’

  ‘They will all have to be fed.’

  ‘I know; the game, wild berries and mushrooms in the forest will provide some sustenance but it won’t be enough, so this year I’m going to start organising grain dumps and stores of salted meat.’

  ‘That’s a massive undertaking.’

  ‘This is not a thing that can be attempted without forward planning; everything must be in order.’

  ‘Where will you get the food from?’

  ‘All three of the kings that I’ve spoken to so far have said that they will be willing to support me if the first blow is a success; they will lead their men into the forest but not against Rome unless our people and the auxiliaries strike at the column decisively.’ I put a hand up to still my father’s outrage. ‘I know what you think, Father, I think the same. However, you can’t blame them; if this goes wrong then the vengeance taken upon us will be long and bloody. Nevertheless, they are prepared to have their men waiting and watching. So I shall charge them for this privilege: they will donate the grain and livestock. If they want the chance of glory then it has to be on my terms.’

  ‘And what about our people?’

  ‘Our people are taking the greatest risk; we donate nothing but it will be us who make the forest store depots. We should have our men cut down a few rode now so that we can sow grass for grazing.’

  My father grinned; he could see exactly what I planned. ‘So only we will know the location of the depots.’

  ‘And we’ll only divulge their whereabouts as and when necessary.’

  ‘So we can keep any surplus and ensure our people a well-supplied winter if the attack goes wrong and we find ourselves under siege in the Harzland.’

  ‘Precisely; but it won’t go wrong, Father. I intend to make sure that everything is thought of But firstly I need to find Varus and report to him.’

  ‘I’ll take you to him tomorrow; he’s on the banks of the Albis holding court and dispensing Roman justice.’

  And that was where we found him, a day’s ride away, sitting on a curule chair in a pavilion on the west bank of the Albis, in the lands of the Suevi.

  ‘They look to be in excellent condition,’ Varus commented, slapping me on the back as he inspected my ala after having adjourned his court for the day. ‘Have they seen much action since I saw them last?’

  ‘Punishment raids in Pannonia, mopping up rebels, but nothing like the affair against the Marcomanni in Bojohaemum,’ I replied, exaggerating the incident considerably thus ensuring that I reminded Varus that he had me and my men to thank for his life. I felt my father look at me, frowning.

  Varus slapped me on the back again. ‘That was a bloody day; how they came upon us so quickly I will never understand.’

  Due to your unprofessional lack of scouting, was the thought that I did not share with him.

  ‘Still, your lads saw them off; it’s good to see them again and you, Arminius. I welcome talented young officers onto my staff.’

  His tone was patronising and aloof but I smiled my thanks at his welcome and gladly accepted his invitation to dine with him, an invitation that he did not extend to my father.

  As we watched him walk away my father spat on the ground. ‘Why did you save his life?’

  ‘All things considered, I’d say that it’s lucky I did.’

  ‘This year I intend to make a few probes across the Albis and test the mettle of the Semnones,’ Varus announced once his guests had taken their places reclining at table. ‘I think it’s time we taught them that Rome is here to stay on this side of the river and we won’t tolerate any raiding by the even less washed barbarians on the other side.’

  This remark raised a few sniggers from his officers.

  ‘Do we intend to make a permanent presence over there?’ asked Vala Numonius, prefect of one of the auxiliary Gallic cavalry alae.

  ‘No, Vala; the Emperor has ordered me only to secure our eastern border along the Albis but to exact tribute and recruit auxiliaries from the tribes between it and the next large river, the Viadua. I believe that his long-term policy is to civilise them somewhat through contact and trade and their young warriors serving in our army, learning our language and getting a taste for our silver. Once that has been achieved he will incorporate those lands within the empire as the new province of Germania Ultima with the Viadua River as the frontier.’

  Vala looked impressed. ‘What next?’

  ‘I don’t know. Traders have reported another river called the Vistula a couple of hundred miles further east of the Viadua, but whether Augustus would wish to extend so far is debatable; for a start I’m told the tribes out there, the Gotones, the Vandalli and the Burgundi, are even wilder than the Semnones and have truly dreadful personal hygiene rather than just dreadful.’

  There was a round of sycophantic laughter and a few tart remarks about Germanic cleanliness without anyone looking at me, embarrassed, and I realised that I had fitted right in: my short hair and my apparel, tunic and slippers, made me seem Roman and my faultless Latin made me sound so. It was like the night of the fire when we rescued Vulferam: because I seemed to be right, no one suspected that I was wrong. It did not occur to them that I was Germanic in my heart so I joined in the laughter and jesting in order that my real allegiance would remain hidden.

  ‘But seriously, gentlemen,’ Varus continued as the seam of humour began to run dry, ‘our objective this year is to begin the pacification of the eastern bank of the Albis but not to occupy it yet. Augustus has told me to teach them to wash before we do that!’

  That brought another flood of mirth and jokes, which I joined in as loud as the others as the first course, the gustatio, was brought in. With eyes moist from laughter I looked at the variety of platters being spread out on the table and, although they were elegantly presented and were a refined blend of ingredients, I despised them for their fussiness and had a yearning for a haunch of venison over an open fire in a clearing deep in a forest rather than being here sharing my enemy’s cuisine whilst laughing at his jokes at my own people’s expense.

  ‘And so there he was,’ Thumelicatz said, bringing the reading to an end with a sweep of his hand, ‘an officer on Varus’ staff. Accepted by his fellows as one of them; no different from those of Latin blood or Gallic blood or Hispanic blood because he had a Roman name, a Roman uniform and a Roman accent. How could he be anything other than a Roman? Why would he want to be anything other than a Roman? You just can’t fathom how anyone who has been given your precious gift of citizenship could possibly want to reject it, can you?’

  He paused and smiled as his Roman guests shifted uneasily in their seats, knowing that what he had said was the truth. ‘Oh, Rome, you are your own worst enemy: because you think that you are so perfect you can’t comprehend that anyone should find fault with you. And so through that arrogance, that blindness, that smug self-satisfaction, Varus let the man who had saved his life into his circle, oblivious to the fact that all his life he had secretly rejected Rome; oblivious to the fact that this man, Erminatz, planned to kill every Roman soldier in Germania Magna.’

  CHAPTER VIII

  ‘T HAT’S FEELING MUCH better,’ the street-fighter said, -L re-entering the tent, adjusting his dress with a pleased look on his face. ‘That ale you’re all so keen on here goes straight through me.’ He looked at Aius and Tiburtius and grinned. ‘I don’t know how you boys cope with it; you have to piss three or four times before you even start to feel its effects.’

  The old slaves looked at Thumelicatz who nodded giving them permission to speak.

  It was Aius who answered. ‘The master allows us wine from time to time. Now that the vineyards that you Romans planted—’

  ‘We Romans,’ the street-fighter corrected, sitting back down.

  Aius shook his head, slow and sad. ‘No, you Romans; we lost the right to call ourselves that when we lost our Eagles.’

 
; ‘Have it your own way, mate.’

  ‘Now that the vineyards that you Romans planted in the Gallic and two Germanic provinces have matured, the wine from those areas has become plentiful and cheap.’

  The street-fighter poured himself some more ale. ‘But is it any good?’

  ‘It’s good enough for slaves.’

  ‘I don’t believe it’s a kindness, buying them wine,’ Thumelicatz said. ‘If anything I would have thought it’s a torment for them to be reminded of home having sworn never to go back; but that’s the price of marching into our land and then choosing not to burn in our fires after being captured. However, I buy it and they drink it with gratitude and perhaps it salves some part of the raw misery in which they have chosen to live for they have never requested that I don’t buy it for them.’ He looked at the two ancient Eagle-bearers who both lowered their gaze to the scrolls on the desk in front of them. ‘But who can say what goes on in those prideless minds; and ultimately, who cares? They’re here to perform a function so let’s not worry ourselves unduly about them.’

  He picked up the next scroll and scanned through it quickly. ‘So my father worked with Varus, helping him to carry out his orders from Augustus to begin the pacification of the eastern bank of the Albis. He took his cavalry ala across on numerous occasions to punish tribes that had raided our side; he took prisoners, seized chieftains and burnt villages. Neither he nor any of his men complained for they were fighting tribes that had in the past done the Cherusci harm and now he could avenge that harm and be seen as doing Rome’s will. Varus took it all at face value, but there was one person who somehow saw through him and that man was not a Roman, he was Germanic and from the same tribe as Erminatz. In fact he was his kinsman, Siegimeri’s cousin, Segestes. Whether he had a deep love of Rome or whether it was because he despised Erminatz for reasons that will become clear, Segestes did his best to convince Varus of my father’s perfidy.’ He handed the scroll back to Aius. ‘Read from this point.’