The Wald

by Born, Jason

  Adalbern bristled when his son placed the rival tribe ahead of his own. The boy ignored him, waiting quietly while the Cheruscan chiefs considered his argument.

  “The boy has a point, Kolman,” said Segimer.

  “He makes more than a point, Segimer,” retorted Kolman. “He made an impassioned speech that would move any man to his side.”

  “Ha!” said Adalbern, poking Kolman in the chest.

  “Wait Adalbern,” continued Kolman. “I am not any man. Will a passionate talk move the gigantic Roman fleet?”

  “A fleet that this infallible General Drusus almost sunk on his own without a single enemy soldier within a six day ride. Surely you’ve heard that story by now. They are just men! We can and must beat them!”

  To his horror, Kolman saw that all the Cheruscan men who stood around on the flat rocks that dark night grunted and cheered for the Sugambrian chief and his boy. Kolman was no coward, but he knew enough about men to know when it was time to ally with the winning position. But he wasn’t done yet.

  “Segimer, if you say we fight, I’ll support you in every way, on one condition.”

  “Name it,” said Adalbern and the Cheruscan noble at the same time.

  “If these men can also bring in the Suebians and at least one of the southern tribes, then I will proudly carry my sword against the Romans.”

  Segimer smiled broadly. “That sounds like a compromise worth agreeing with to me. But Adalbern is the one who has to do the work. What is your answer? Or maybe it’s Berengar we should ask.”

  “We’ll do it,” father and son answered.

  “And the Suebians shall get whatever gold or silver we plunder from the Romans to help pay for their losses a generation ago. The Sugambrians will take slaves from the Roman ranks. And best of all I believe it is appropriate that every horse should go to our new allies, the Cheruscans.” Adalbern was warm and giddy from the ale and his success. He figured that being magnanimous was a fitting way to seal the results of the conference. The Cheruscans gave him a cheer.

  “There is one last thing,” Adalbern went on when the applause and shouting died down. “Who is that beautiful naked lass with the hills and dales that can make a man weep?”

  Every last man, even his son, laughed the kind of rolling laugh that starts in a man’s belly until it has unwound itself through every part of his body. Segimer snorted until tears came to his eyes. Barely able to speak, he said, “Adalbern, either Sugambrian warlords have a taste that is unique to their own or you have had much too much ale. The naked woman is our priestess, who goes by the name, Rike. If you are interested in taking another bride, I may be able to make the arrangements, but I caution you she’s a little worn and can be difficult to tame.”

  The men continued their laughter. Utterly confused, Adalbern turned to look at the women between the two posts. He blinked a time or two before realizing that the old woman was alone, standing above a tattered blanket set on the bog. The blanket was empty except for the bones that spotted its surface and two curving lines of blue clay that had been drawn on it.

  He felt a hand on his back. “Come father, let’s get some rest. I think you have had too much ale. My mother would surely leave you for even the likes of Gundahar if you brought home that creature.”

  . . .

  One day after Adalbern and his Sugambrian representatives left to meet with the Suebians, Kolman kissed his daughter Thusnelda on her forehead. “I saw the way you looked at Ermin yesterday after he came back with tales of adventure and glory. Just remember that those are just that, stories. They happened to be sure, but there’s more to when a boy grows into a man than excitement. He has to use his mind too.”

  “Yes, father,” answered the girl, who only vaguely understood what Kolman talked about.

  Kolman looked somber then added, “Just don’t allow yourself or your heart to get swept away as you get older. I’ll have a fitting husband set aside for you soon enough.”

  The happy girl smiled, her red curls dancing on her head while she bobbed from one bare foot to the next. Her mind had already moved on to whatever small girls dream of, but Thusnelda had enough respect of her father to say, “Yes, father.” She spun on her heel and hopped off to where her mother worked on her warp-weighted loom. Kolman sighed, wondering if his talk had done any good or if the girl would be like her mother and stubbornly chase after the man she wanted. In his case, it all worked out since the man was him, but in his daughter’s case, the idea made him angry.

  Kolman left his small plot behind, stewing about his daughter and his friend’s son. He loved Segimer like a brother, but there was more to be gained from a marriage with another man’s boy. Time, Kolman told himself, was all that he needed to right his daughter’s mind. Off he trekked over the hill while leading his horse on foot to speak with Segimer on a different matter altogether.

  “That Adalbern is a good man. His heart is as big as he is. He loves his people,” said Segimer as the two men walked their horses. “His taste in women is a bit odd, though.” Segimer chuckled to himself.

  Kolman smiled, more because it was expected at such a time, but his expression turned serious. “He is all of those things and will be a faithful ally. But there is more to leading a nation than fighting physical battles.”

  “You talk about the politics of man, no doubt,” said Segimer as he leapt up to his horse.

  Kolman did likewise and, after wriggling his rear to a comfortable position, he answered. “Absolutely. And don’t discount what I say.”

  “I won’t, you know that. What are you getting at?” asked Segimer.

  “Men are jealous, greedy, lustful, vengeful, spiteful creatures drunk for their own power and influence,” Kolman began to preach.

  “They can also be heroic, selfless, giving, loving, and generous,” retorted Segimer, holding up a palm to slow his friend’s litany down.

  Kolman ignored him. “You know and understand the politics of the tribes. Can you even imagine the politics that must occur in Rome? Where such power has become so centralized, the lure for cunning, thievery, and killing swells like a pus-filled boil. Their precious Julius was killed by his own people. We must rise to their level if we are to ever hope to defeat the Roman legions. I fear this war will be won with diplomacy, not outright killing.”

  Their horses walked a lazy pace in the dark wood. Neither man felt hurried because Segimer assumed Adalbern would be successful in his attempts to bring the other tribes into their alliance. That morning he had already dispatched messengers to all corners of the Cheruscan lands to raise an army. They would do no more logistical planning after that, since every man would be expected to bring his own weapons, horse, and supplies. The two Cheruscan leaders now had only to wait.

  “And so, Kolman, what are you proposing? You know that my mind does not work the same as yours. I hope it is not treachery that you suggest. That would make this conversation strained. But know that I do value your opinion for you have been right more often than wrong.”

  “I propose nothing different from what we’ve already agreed to. To change course now would make us dishonorable. We raise the army as promised. If Adalbern brings in the Suebians they will be welcomed. If he brings in the Cattans or the Marcomannians from the southwest, so much the better. They both have a fighting style more like that of the Romans and will serve us well should we actually go to battle. What I propose is that while we prepare to fight, we try to avoid the war.”

  “But Adalbern is correct that we must negotiate from a position of strength.”

  Kolman swore to the goddess Nerth who was known to sometimes intercede on human affairs. “Yes. We will have strength. If we send envoys to this Drusus, they may freely tell him that we have a large army. They may tell him that we intend to use it to defend our lands, but we truly hope to avoid bloodshed and enter into a peaceful treaty with Rome. It can be an alliance based upon the respect of both parties.”

  “And what of the Sugambrians? You don’t
mention them in your treaty,” huffed Segimer.

  “What of them? Were you raised in a Sugambrian village on the tit of a Sugambrian woman? No, you are a chief of the Cheruscans and it is the Cheruscans you must lead.”

  Segimer sighed audibly. The two rode on in silence for a time. Segimer thought of Kolman’s argument. The cautious man was correct. The tribes always acted independently. Why should this time be any different? A squirrel darted into their path carrying a nut in its mouth. The tiny beast stopped in the trail’s center and stood on its hind legs, pulling the nut from its mouth with its front paws. The squirrel barked its frightened squawk before replacing the nut between its teeth and scurrying down the path in front of them. Segimer watched the creature intently until it finally darted off the path to the right.

  “Kolman, will you work your negotiations with the Romans even if I forbid it?”

  His friend reacted immediately, hurt. “No, you should know me better than that. I pulled you from beneath that fallen tree when we were boys. I will never abandon you or say one thing and do another.”

  “I thought so, but wanted you to tell me. We’ll not send envoys to Drusus.”

  Kolman deflated. “If that is what you think is best for Cheruscans, I’ll follow your advice, though I am disappointed.”

  “Thank you, old friend.”

  “Though I must ask why you think it unwise to follow my path?”

  Segimer gave a sheepish shrug. “It was that squirrel. I think a friendly elf sent him to us to help me make my decision. He spoke to us, after all. Then when he ran straight down the center of the trail, I told myself that if he went left, I’d agree with you. If he went right, I’d disagree. He went right.”

  And the decision was made.

  CHAPTER 5

  11 B.C

  They had done it. Drusus had led his men across the Rhenus in the springtime when it was time for men to leave their farms and yearn for battle. The legionaries had no farms to abandon, but they were ready for conquering more of Germania that spring. Their commander ushered them across the great river at Vetera, some miles north of Oppidum Ubiorum. The place was not selected at random. It sat at the confluence where the Lupia River drained from the core of Germania and flowed into the Rhenus. Drusus marched his army east along the Lupia’s northern bank which was the southern-most extent of the allied Frisian lands. The general then had a small fort and supply depot built there, the first Roman fort east of the Rhenus in what was formerly Germanic tribal territory but was now decidedly Roman. They had done it.

  It was a piece of the broader plan he had worked out with his stepfather, Augustus, during his winter sojourn in Rome. The fort could be easily supplied from Gaul by loading pig ships with food, drink, arrows, spears, et cetera in Vetera along the Rhenus River and paddling them up the Lupia for stockpiling. The legions’ long baggage train could then strike out over land to follow the march wherever Lord Drusus saw fit to direct. And he knew just where he meant to lead. The new fort would serve as a jumping off point for the march into the Germanic heartland to the south and east. Both the Sugambrians and Cheruscans would feel his total wrath this season.

  Drusus didn’t desert Gaul entirely. He had left the forts on the west bank of the Rhenus well stocked with troops to dissuade any Gallic rebellion or any misplaced Germanic tribal aggression, and yet the army he took with him as they left the new Lupia fort was grand indeed. It consisted of four full legions of regular Roman army – nearly twenty thousand men. It was bolstered by five cohorts of Gallic auxiliary infantry and finished off with a single cohort of Germanic auxiliary cavalry, mustered mostly from the Batavians and Ubians. The general had discovered that the tribesmen, though mostly too poor to themselves own a horse, were comfortable with animals and excellent horsemen.

  Some miles to the east of the new fort, Drusus held up his hand to halt the march along the narrow road that his men literally hacked out of the forest along the river. Even more confident than during the previous year’s campaign, the general leaned over to his newest military tribunes, Chumstintus and Avectius. “We are finished acting like common tribesmen riding upstream for a suitable place to ford this river. These are Roman lands. See that our engineers direct a bridge constructed there.” He pointed to a place where the river ran wide and straight.

  Avectius looked to his commander. “Yes, lord. But won’t that delay our entry into the Sugambrian lands? Will the Sugambrians not have more notice of our arrival and whereabouts if we tarry here?”

  “Yes, I suppose they will,” Drusus answered pleasantly, not worried in the slightest. “But I can see that you are troubled, Avectius. And what of you, Chumstintus? Do you fret over the coming of the Sugambrians?”

  The two young officers, brothers only twelve months apart in age, were born in Gaul but had been Roman their entire lives. Due to family connections, both had risen rapidly through various administrative posts. Drusus, as governor, had seen promise in them and appointed them to serve on his staff. Many of the tribunes who served in the emperor’s army were there only because of family connections. Most of those lived a completely debauched life of privilege when compared to the common soldier. Drusus saw that the brothers Gaul may prove to share both lineage and character – something exceedingly rare – and wanted them tested.

  There had been many changes in his officer corps over the winter months since the fleet left Germania. Several men of standing had fallen to the Sugambrian spears during the battle on the Amisia River. The deaths, while tragic, allowed more junior men to move up and gain broader experience. Marcus and Septimus were not left behind in these shifts. Both commanded new centuries under Drusus – they would now serve one step closer to the center of the line where the general fought.

  Chumstintus, confident in most interactions with those in authority, initially showed hesitation. Drusus, flashing a bit of arrogance wrought by the celebrations in Rome where he was praised all winter, tapped the double horns of his saddle as his feet dangled about his charger’s belly. He waited anxiously while his tribune thought.

  “Well, yes, lord. But I am not concerned for my own personal safety. I worry that more of our men will fall to them if we extend any advantage in their direction. Adalbern, I’ve heard, is cunning. I worry about a delay in pushing forward with the emperor’s plans for the year,” Chumstintus finally answered, returning to confidence with what he thought was a wise response.

  “A fine political answer, Chumstintus. You’ll go far with me if you can back up such tact with real decisions and actions,” the commander answered. “Now build me that bridge. Afterwards I’ll tell you why, though your concern for the men and our mission is admirable, it is wholly unnecessary.” He trotted off, leaving the brothers to carry out his wishes.

  And so they did build him his bridge. The two young Gallic tribunes saw to it that his massive army built a temporary fort surrounded by an earthen wall that was thrown up in a single afternoon. Before the sun even set on that day, the eager officers had the men set to work felling tree after tree to cross the span Drusus had directed. They piled their armor in neat stacks, carrying only their gladii strapped over simple tunics at their waists while they toiled. They then had freedom of movement to easily swing the axes Manilius, whose duties included those of a quartermaster, had seen fit to bring on the expedition.

  Over the course of the two weeks it took to complete the project, Roman scouts rode back daily reporting that they had seen small parties of what appeared to be Sugambrian riders. The opponents, they said, watched from a distance in groups of five men. They didn’t seem to care that they were seen, but after shadowing or skirting the Romans for a time disappeared back into the wald. Twice during the last three days of construction the scouts told Drusus and Manilius that as many as fifty men watched them from a ridge less than one mile away.

  “Their army is close by,” Chumstintus said to Drusus after the general congratulated the brothers on their efficient work.

  “It wou
ld seem it is,” Drusus answered. “And what would you do if you were a Sugambrian and our great army was crossing this bridge into your land?” Drusus asked to test their knowledge of military tactics.

  “Lord Drusus,” Avectius answered for his brother. They often did this, responding for one another. Manilius found it maddening. Drusus found it charming since his older brother, Tiberius, and he disagreed on so many issues. The two Roman princes could never hope to answer for one another. The commander watched the young brothers with a hint of envy. “It matters not what I would do. Rather it matters what the Sugambrians will do. Julius wrote that when he encountered them over forty years ago he found that, ‘neither morass nor forest obstructs these men, born amidst war and depredations.’ Knowing this about the Sugambrians, I believe they will strike us as we cross the river, when we will be weakest. They can ride fast to our troops and shove them against these waters.”

  The general laughed. “Avectius, you do us all proud. Where did you get your hands on a copy of my adopted grandfather’s words about the Sugambrians?”

  The Gaul’s chin tipped up with pride. “As a boy I had the good fortune to visit a distant cousin in Rome. His father worked for a senator who allowed me a day of reading. I went to the writings of Julius first since he brought Roman rule to my people.”

  The general sat atop his horse which ambled in a lazy gait across the bridge toward enemy territory. In a typical Roman column, the legate would ride in its center with reams of protective cohorts ahead and behind him. Not Drusus. He led his men from the front many times just to inspire them. The officers followed him into what was once completely foreign territory. The men loved him for it. “You are wise beyond your years,” said Drusus. “And your assessment of the situation would appear to be a correct one. But I have toyed with you long enough by withholding information. Manilius, give these fine brothers just a hint of why we need not worry about the Sugambrians.”