Arminius

by Robert Fabbri

  Thumelicatz took a swig of his drink as he pondered this assertion for a few moments, before turning his attention back to Aius. ‘What say you, slave? When you still held your honour intact would you have defended it, and that of Rome’s, even though it would have meant a hazardous journey towards a supposed rebellion under attack all the time by tribesmen and some of your own auxiliaries who, as far as you understood, were trying to prevent you from reaching the rebel area?’

  For the first time, Aius met his master’s eye and there was a slight hardening in his look as if the years of slavery were starting to shed and dignity was reasserting itself once more. ‘That was the only option open to us; every man in those legions would have made the same decision as our general and they would also have left the camp in the same condition as he did, knowing all too well the greed of uncivilised tribesmen.’ His eyes lowered back to the scroll in his hand.

  Thumelicatz tensed, his fist clenching, as if he was about to strike his slave for answering the question with candour. After a couple of heartbeats he relaxed and gave a grim chuckle. ‘So you still have your balls in place after all these years, slave; but mind how they affect your speech, else you may well see them being added to this jar. But you are right, I cannot deny it; the way Varus left his camp did make a difference: it bought him another day, or so he thought, but did not, ultimately, affect the result. It did, however, bring shame upon my father’s alliance and showed the Germanic nature not in the best light. Read on, Aius, I’m sure this is a passage that you secretly enjoy.’

  Whether or not his master’s assumption was correct did not show on the old slave’s face, now veiled again with subservience, as he scanned the scroll and began to read.

  The sun had risen high behind the heavy, leaden clouds and the fires still burning within the camp had died down by the time the rearguard had passed through the gate and the auxiliary cohorts facing us, protecting the column’s flank, withdrew. In all that time we did not show ourselves, keeping our men under the cover of the forest, hidden from the open ground and the Roman camp, resting and feeding, building their strength back up for what would come. As the last footfall of more than ten thousand surviving marching men faded into the distance I had the tribes muster, ready to harass the Roman advance: the Chauci and the Marsi to their right, the Cherusci and the Bructeri to their left with the Sugambri staying behind them to pick off stragglers.

  ‘The Chatti are free to follow us, if you have the stomach for it,’ I told Adgandestrius as I met with the kings and their thanes as well as the prefects of the auxiliaries who had joined us to discuss the disposition of the tribes, as while herding Varus northwest it was vital to ensure that he passed between the marsh and the Kalk Riese.

  The Chatti king spat at my feet, sneering; behind him his followers bristled and gripped their sword hilts, ready to support their king should the insult be deemed intolerable. ‘The Chatti will not be found wanting; we will fight if and when you force Varus to the killing ground. There you will see just what the Chatti have the stomach for. After that, Erminatz, we will have an accounting and I think it will be you who will be found wanting: wanting of manners.’

  I raised my hands in a conciliatory gesture. ‘If you are promising to fight, Adgandestrius, then I apologise for my manners or lack of them. Forgive me so that we may draw swords together in a common cause.’

  We locked glares and a tension ran between us, neither saying a word, as all those around remained silent, ready for violence; but violence did not break out, as Adgandestrius knew that he could not refuse the apology made in front of so many men of high status united in their enmity towards Rome – whatever he thought of me personally. He slowly relaxed, nodding his head in agreement as his lips beneath his beard cracked into a smile that did not reach his eyes. ‘We will fight together, Erminatz, and let that be an end to it.’

  ‘Then the Chatti will join the Sugambri and drive the column from the rear.’

  ‘We will do so because we choose to, not because you have ordered us to.’

  ‘Then it is a good choice.’ Satisfied that I would get no more from him I turned to the rest of the kings. ‘We will catch up with their rear units in an hour or so and then we will spend the rest of the day wearing down what’s left of their morale. Keep at them constantly: missile volleys and lightning attacks. They must never feel safe so that the fear grows in the hearts of the common legionary. Then, when it’s dark, Engilram will lead us to the Kalk Riese. The Bructeri, Cherusci, Chatti and Sugambri will take position on the hill itself whilst the Marsi and the Chauci will cut off any possibility of retreat so that we will have them completely at our mercy and we shall withhold.’

  ‘What about preventing them from going forward?’ Engilram asked.

  ‘That is down to you, my friend. Send all the warriors you can spare ahead by the shortest route to the Teutoburg Pass and prepare the ground. The pass must be blocked; fell as many trees as you can between your Chalk Giant and the swamp to make the way impassable. Have another party take our store of javelins and arrows with them so that we have sufficient weaponry there waiting for us. We will fall on the column just before they reach the barrier; they will try and move forward quickly to escape us and find the way obstructed. At this point they will realise that they have walked into a well-laid trap and the fear that we’ve built up within their hearts will overflow as they see that there is neither a way forward nor back and they have been brought to the place of their death. As they despair we’ll reap their lives and not one will escape; not one.’ I looked around the group and there was no sign of dissent, even Adgandestrius stroked his beard and hoomed his agreement along with the rest; I now knew that I had won all these proud men over to my will and with them I could strike the greatest blow for our Fatherland, the land of All Men. Our failure to finish the business on the first day was now behind us for we could all see how Varus would be trapped in the shadow of the Chalk Giant, and with nowhere to go and demoralised troops he would stand no chance. ‘So, my friends, go now and lead your men well and may the gods of our land help us to rid ourselves of the invader.’

  But the gods of our land include Loki; he tricks and deceives for his own amusement and that day he played a jest that nearly cost our land its freedom. The abandoned camp, itself a huge affair – almost half a mile square – lay in our path as we followed the Roman trail. I had paid it no mind; why should I have as it was just an empty marching camp bereft of its inhabitants and containing now just the smouldering remains of the fires set by our attack the previous night? I gave no orders to avoid it and as the tribes moved forward they passed to either side and saw that the gates were open; and what lay within was too much to resist, as Varus knew it would be when Loki inspired him to such a trick: he had abandoned his baggage and had concealed his action by using the cover of our fire attack to set his own wagons alight.

  Within the four walls the camp remained intact: rows of leather tents still stood as if the eight men sharing each one were yet asleep within. Through them swarmed our men, my men, out of control as they swooped down on the plunder of three legions. And I cursed Varus and Loki in equal measure for I realised that the two cavalry alae that had covered each side of the camp as Varus led his men out were placed there for a dual purpose: they were not just for fending off any foray that we may have attempted; they were also there to obscure our line of sight so that we would not notice that the baggage train was not a part of the column but, rather, had remained within the camp as a smouldering wreck of wagons. In one move Varus had speeded up his advance unencumbered by the slow baggage train that would delay our moving on until it had been picked through and every item of value appropriated. Only what could be carried on the backs of mules had been taken; anything requiring wheeled transport had been forsaken.

  Varus had played me for a fool.

  What could I do? I was helpless in the face of the greed of men who have little and desire to better themselves in any way that they can. An
d there was much to take as it was not the baggage of an army on campaign, travelling light; no, this was the baggage of an army on its way from its summer quarters to its winter home, an army that was taking everything it owned with it. That was the mark of how desperate Varus must have felt if he and his men were prepared to leave all that loot behind. All that to buy them the time to link up with me – or so they thought – in the northwest so that together we could put down a rebellion that did not exist. He must have calculated that once victorious he would be able to reclaim much of what had been lost from the defeated tribes; either the original items or in kind. Whatever had gone through his mind his ploy had worked and I looked in impotent rage at the unrestrained marauding of my six tribes, unleashed on the treasure of an army.

  Through the camp they swooped, taking all that they could find, weighing themselves down with plunder. It was not just the heavy leather tents or the amphorae of wine or bushels of grain, it was the mills to grind that grain; it was the quarter-masters’ stores of armour, military sandals, tunics, cloaks, blankets and weaponry, some of which had survived the fires, as well as the remains of the butchered carcasses of the draft-oxen.

  And then there was the pay chest buried beneath the praetorium.

  This one sacrifice was enough to guarantee that I had no chance of moving my army forward until every scrap of ground had been searched. Varus had been very cunning: the chest had been buried in an obvious manner so that it would be discovered; and it was not even full. Most of the tribesmen, however, couldn’t see that it had been left as bait, to tempt them into thinking that there could be more – which, of course, there wasn’t. But no one can talk sense into a man in the grip of greed.

  ‘I’ve had some of our warriors secure the praetorium,’ Vulferam said, breaking into my misery as, above, the Thunderer, as if in disgust at his children’s behaviour, cracked open the skies with a reverberating strike and rain flooded through the resulting rent. Almost three hours had passed since the looting began and there was no sign of it abating.

  I was momentarily confused and then managed to focus. ‘And the tent’s contents?’

  ‘All gone; it seems as if Varus was only too happy to let everyone else abandon their belongings but his have been packed up and taken.’

  Thumelicatz held up his hand. ‘And that was so, Aius, was it not?’ He gestured at the rich furnishings and lavish silverware that adorned what had once been Varus’ command tent.

  Aius inclined his head in agreement. ‘Indeed, master, he had all this loaded onto mules.’

  ‘And what was everyone else allowed to take?’

  ‘We had been issued with four days’ rations and could take whatever we could load onto our contubernium’s mule, which was why every eight-man tent-party had chosen to leave their tent and grain-mill behind so as to get as many personal possessions on the beast as possible – much good it did us.’

  Thumelicatz smiled in satisfaction. ‘Yes, we’ve been finding coins along the battle’s path ever since and will, no doubt, carry on doing so for many years to come.’

  ‘But at the time we thought that the general was doing the right thing and that without the baggage train slowing us down we would escape the rebels’ pursuit and soon join forces with Arminius … I’m sorry, master, Erminatz, and then, once clear of the Wald we would be able to stand and fight on open ground.’

  ‘And then victory would have been yours,’ Thumelicatz scoffed.

  ‘Of course, master; that’s what we all believed because it had always been so: no barbarians could defeat three Roman legions head-on, and your father understood that because he had decided to ambush the column rather than face it.’

  Thumelicatz’s fist slammed into the old slave’s face, cracking his head back with a surprised cry. ‘Don’t assume to know what my father did or didn’t understand, slave. Your role is to read his words and answer my questions, not to make suppositions that you cannot possibly support.’

  The street-fighter made to intervene but was restrained by the two brothers.

  Aius hung his head, his hands holding his face as blood dripped through the fingers from a misshapen nose. ‘I apologise, master,’ he whispered, his voice shaking with pain, ‘I spoke out of turn.’

  Tiburtius looked on impassively, giving no clue as to his feelings on the treatment of his fellow slave.

  ‘Get on with the reading,’ Thumelicatz said before turning back to his guests. ‘As you can see, there is still some spirit left in him even after thirty-three years of slavery.’

  None of the Romans ventured their opinions on the condition of one who had been of the foremost in his legion.

  Aius wiped away the blood with the back of his hand and then dried it on his tunic before picking up the scroll again.

  An empty Praetorian tent was of little use to me but I thanked Vulferam nonetheless because it would be expected of me, by all my warriors, to take that as a prize, otherwise I would lose face in their eyes should one of the kings claim Varus’ property for his own; having just gained control of the army I could not afford to lose it over a matter of principle.

  Then, through the chaos of the looting, I saw the man I needed to speak to most urgently if the situation was not to be lost. ‘Engilram!’ I bellowed over the cacophony of greed. ‘Engilram!’

  The old king heard me and made his way over to where I stood.

  ‘Engilram, please tell me that you, at least, have some control of your men.’

  Engilram looked grave but his words brought me relief. ‘Two hundred I’ve sent on ahead with the promise of more silver than they would have scavenged from the ruins of the camp; they left a couple of hours ago. It’ll cost me dearly but it was the only way to tear them away from the looting.’

  I squeezed his shoulder, my heart thumping with relief, and looked into his eyes with mine full of gratitude. ‘It will be made up to you by double what you’re forced to pay, my friend. Because of you we still have the chance to finish this thing properly.’

  ‘I know, Erminatz; but we’ll need to hurry; if Varus sets a good pace he’ll arrive at the Kalk Riese tomorrow afternoon. We have to leave soon in order to be able to skirt around him and be waiting when he arrives.’

  And that was the reality that I had already confronted in my head but did not know how to overcome: not only were we far behind the Roman column now but we were also burdened down with plunder. There was no way that I could see of us being able to travel fast enough or stealthily enough to be able to get in position to crush the column without them being aware of our presence. There was nothing else to do other than wait for the frenzy to be over and then address the army as a whole and appeal to them to leave their loot for the time being in order that a greater victory could be gained.

  Perhaps I had a use for Varus’ praetorium after all. I turned to Vulferam. ‘Have Varus’ tent packed away and brought to me.’

  Vulferam nodded and went off to fulfil my wishes as I stood, watching the continued looting, waiting with little patience.

  I had to wait for another precious hour before the warriors, by mutual consent, decided that the camp had been picked bare and there were no other pay chests buried within its walls. I called upon the kings to muster their tribes on the ground to its north and prepared to regain the initiative by leading by example.

  ‘Brothers, fellow sons of All Men,’ I shouted from the improvised dais before the assembled tribes standing in the steady rain, ‘we have been fortunate in that we have enriched ourselves without any great struggle. Each of us has some prize or other; some of great worth, and others less so.’ I punched a fist into the air. ‘Let us cheer our good fortune!’

  This was uncontroversial and produced a roar from the assembly as they celebrated their luck. For many heartbeats I led them in the celebration until I judged that they were ready for what I had to say. I stretched my arms out wide, palms down, and hushed almost thirty thousand men who now wanted to listen to me.

  ‘Fortune h
as favoured us, but it has done so at a price.’

  I paused to let them wonder what the price could be and, judging by the faces of those nearest to me, it was not obvious to them.

  ‘The price is that we have been diverted from our real task, the reason that we have come on this venture. And it was planned that it should be thus, planned by our enemy; Rome has tricked us.’

  Again I paused to let that sink in and for each man to begin to feel outrage at being duped even if they did not comprehend just how.

  ‘This booty that we all hold was always going to be ours; but in having it now, having it early, it is missing a vital ingredient: it is not covered in the blood of the former owners. No, my brothers, we’ve been cheated; all this should have come to us over the dead bodies of Varus and his legions. And where is Varus? Where are his legions? Can you see their bodies lying limp on the ground? No, my brothers! No, you cannot! You cannot because they are miles from here and their hearts still beat and their limbs are still intact. They are still alive on Germanic soil; our soil; the soil of our Fatherland where All Men should dwell in freedom!’

  This sent them into cries of indignation as they realised that what I had said was the truth and that they had been blinded by greed that had been provoked by their enemy. Now, shamed, their indignation began to turn to anger.

  ‘But it is not too late, my brothers; it is just half a day since they left this place; we can still catch them. We can still kill them, all of them!’

  The howl that erupted from the combined tribes drowned anything they had produced previously; it was a howl for blood, for vengeance and for honour.

  Now I had them. ‘We must make haste, my brothers, if we are to catch them; we must leave immediately and we must travel fast and light.’ I turned to Vulferam, standing beneath me, next to the dais. ‘Vulferam, bring me my share of the booty.’