Germania (Veteran of Rome Book 5)

by William Kelso

  ‘Long live Emperor Trajan,’ the company roared.

  Hadrian looked pleased as he gazed at the men. Then he turned and accompanied by his companions, he strode away.

  ‘Company,’ Titus boomed. ‘Company will fall out. Dismissed.’

  With a relieved murmur the men broke ranks and began to drift away across the open space. Here and there a few little groups started to form, as the men laid down their shields and spears and sat down on the ground. Fergus exhaled and reached up to scratch his forehead. Then he glanced quickly at Titus. That morning Titus had said farewell to his wife Lydia, and for such a tough man like the Centurion, their farewell had been surprisingly touching in its affection. Fergus ran his fingers over his forehead. Titula had still not said a word to him. She didn’t seem to have understood when he had told her, he was going away. He’d left her in the company of Lydia and, as a last gesture, he had given her his hunting knife. He wasn’t sure why he’d done that, but it had made him feel better. At least that way the girl would have a chance to protect herself whilst he was away. Afterwards Furius had laughed at him telling him that he was getting far too close to his slave girl and that he should start to treat Titula as a slave, property, an asset, to do with however he saw fit. You are a fool, Fergus. She is going to run away whilst you are gone, Furius had warned him.

  From the corner of his eye, Fergus suddenly noticed movement beside the gates leading from the naval harbour into the city. A column of auxiliary horsemen, clad in their distinctive chainmail armour, came clattering into the open space between the walls and the harbour front. Grunting in surprise, Fergus recognised the proud banner, which one of the horsemen was holding up. The riders were Batavians and not just any Batavians. These men were from the Second Batavian Cohort, his father’s old regiment. A little smile appeared on his face, as he stared at the cavalrymen. Would some of the riders still remember Marcus, his father? There were thirty or so of them, led by a young Decurion; a full squadron. The horsemen were followed by a column of shaggy, tough looking mules, heavily laden with sacks and wooden boxes that were strapped to their backs. Each mule seemed to be attended to by a single slave holding a whip or stick. There were fifteen of them, led by a fat slave-master with a limp.

  ‘So, looks like you are not going to repay your debts to those veterans after all,’ Aledus said quietly as he suddenly appeared at Fergus’s side. ‘Weren’t you supposed to meet them on the temple steps today with the money?’

  Fergus turned to glance at his friend and shrugged.

  ‘Yes, I won’t be there,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t have the money anyway. They will just have to wait until we get back. Double pay, Aledus, double pay, that should help.’

  ‘It’s a dangerous game you are playing Fergus,’ Aledus said with a troubled look in his eyes. ‘I know those kinds of men. They will not forget. They will want their money with interest. You need to watch your back.’

  Fergus was about to reply when he noticed Titus, Furius, the signifer and the young Batavian Decurion coming towards him.

  ‘Fergus, with me. Now,’ the Centurion growled.

  Giving Aledus a quick goodbye, Fergus hastily strode away to catch up with Titus.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he muttered casting a glance at the Centurion as the five of them strode across the parade ground.

  ‘The Legate has requested our presence,’ Titus snapped.

  ***

  The small harbour-master’s office had been built up against the harbour walls and inside it seemed to have been completely taken over by Hadrian and his staff. Bowls of half-eaten food and drinking cups lay scattered across a large wooden table, upon which lay a papyrus map and, along the walls sacks of grain, amphorae and boxes lay stacked up against each other. Oil lamps burned from their holsters along the walls, bathing the room in a flickering light and, in a corner a small fire crackled in a hearth. Hadrian and his three companions were standing around the table examining the map, as Titus and his officers entered the room. Seeing them, the Legate beckoned for them to join him around the table. As he approached, Fergus gave Adalwolf a quick, annoyed glance but the German ignored him.

  Once they were all standing around the table, Hadrian cleared his throat.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ Hadrian said in a grave voice, turning to Titus, “it is of vital importance that all my officers are fully aware of the importance of this expedition. I need you all to understand what is at stake here. So, I am now going to give you a brief overview of the strategic situation along the frontier and how our mission fits into this. After that Adalwolf will talk you through our planned route and what we can expect to encounter on our journey.’

  Titus slowly turned to look down at the map on the table. Across the papyrus, small iron-counters denoting infantry, cavalry and naval forces, lined the entire frontier from the German sea in the north-west to the Black Sea in the south-east. The counters were supplemented by hundreds-upon-hundreds of map markings lining the entire frontier in depth and denoting forts, watch towers, roads, supply-depots, fixed defences, naval harbours, walls and towns, villages and cities.

  Fergus stood up straight with his hands respectfully clasped behind his back, as he studied Hadrian. The Legate did not look like or sound like a clown. There was a quiet competence about how he spoke and moved and yet, Fergus struggled not to laugh. The rumour amongst the legionaries was that the Legate had only been posted to Carnuntum and the command of the First Legion because he’d fallen out of favour with Trajan the Emperor. This command was a demotion. Was the great man now trying to make up for it, by pulling off a diplomatic coup that would impress the Emperor? If so, Fergus thought with sudden weariness, he and the company were mere pawns on a board he did not fully understand. The other rumour about Hadrian doing the rounds amongst the ranks however, was worse. Some had sworn that Hadrian was not a real man at all, and that he preferred the company of men to that of women.

  ‘So,’ Hadrian said in a clear voice, glancing around the room. ‘Our expedition will consist of myself, Adalwolf, my German adviser, translator and two of my freedmen who are familiar with the strategic situation. The Second Company, Second Cohort of the Twentieth Legion; your men, Titus, will act as our main escort. In addition, we shall be joined by a squadron of auxiliary Batavian cavalry, who will act as scouts. Finally, we will have fifteen mules to carry our supplies. Each mule will be tended to by a slave and will carry our food and tents. That makes a total of six officers, one hundred and five soldiers and fifteen slaves plus four civilians.’

  Slowly Hadrian reached forwards and picked up a small counter of a legionary infantryman.

  ‘Now this is the Legionary base at Carnuntum,’ he said looking up at the men around the table. ‘Normally the fifteenth Legion is based here but the bulk of that Legion has already been transferred south and east to the Dacian frontier. The same applies for my own unit at Bonna, and many of the other legions guarding the Rhine and Danube have likewise sent vexillatio to the Dacian front. The Emperor Trajan is gathering a force of over a hundred thousand men to conquer Dacia in the spring of next year. It is a formidable force, but it also means that many of our forts and fortresses are severely weakened and undermanned.’ Hadrian paused to study the map for a moment. ‘Now the Emperor has instructed me to keep the frontier to the north quiet and peaceful, during his Dacian campaign,’ he continued. ‘That means that the German tribes must not be allowed to take advantage of the situation,’ he growled. ‘They must not feel tempted to invade Roman land whilst most of our best men are away fighting in Dacia. And gods forbid, they must not be tempted to form an alliance with the Dacian’s against us. On our stretch of the frontier, that means the Marcomanni and Quadi must be kept in check. That is why we need the Lugii and Vandal confederation to remain our allies.’ Hadrian tapped the map with his finger. ‘The Vandals are a powerful group of tribes. They live here in the mountains and plains to the north beyond the Marcomanni and Quadi. If we can keep the Vandals as allies of Rome th
e Marcomanni and Quadi will think twice about attacking us. They will not want to expose themselves to attack from their northern neighbours.’ Hadrian looked up sharply. ‘Remember, the German tribes hate each other far more than they hate us. Our expedition to the Vandals will be to ensure that our alliance with them continues. It is of vital strategic importance that it does.’

  ‘Very good Sir,’ Titus interrupted with a sour looking expression as he looked down at the map. ‘I am just a soldier so I know nothing about diplomacy. But if there is something that I have learned in twenty-two years’ service it is that men seldom do anything that is not in their self-interest. How then are we going to ensure that our alliance with the Vandals continues?’

  ‘A good question Centurion,’ Hadrian nodded. ‘And I was coming to that. Our diplomacy is based on two methods of persuasion, the stick and the carrot. Now because the Vandals live hundreds of miles to the north they cannot be threatened with military force so we must resort to the carrot.’ Hadrian straightened up and looked at Titus. ‘Your men will not only be escorting me, and my staff to the Vandal sacred grove. We will also be carrying with us six strong boxes filled with gold and silver. Our cargo will be worth over a million denarii. The Emperor has authorised me to give this Roman subsidy to the Vandal leaders; one box for each chieftain of the individual tribes that make up the Lugii and Vandal confederation. We are going to pay the Vandals to remain our allies. That is why this mission must remain a secret. There will be many men out there, who would love to get their hands on that gold and silver if they knew about it.’

  At Titus’s side, Fergus suddenly saw Furious break out into a flush. A million denarii he thought. That was incredible wealth; wealth beyond imagination.

  ‘A million denarii!’ Titus muttered slowly shaking his head. ‘Shit, for such an amount every man within a thousand miles will be willing to risk his life. If anyone finds out about this, we are going to become dead men walking.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Hadrian snapped. ‘Which is why the knowledge of the gold and silver subsidy will not go beyond the walls of this room. It is the reason why tonight we will be leaving under the cover of darkness. It is the reason why the men are not allowed to leave the harbour. The soldiers should not know what we are carrying. It is for the best. Is that clear?’

  Around the table, the officers nodded in silent agreement.

  ‘How do you intend to keep such a large cargo a secret from the men?’ Titus asked. ‘Gold and silver is heavy. It takes up space. It makes noise.’

  Hadrian glanced at one of his officer’s. Then he looked down at the map. ‘The gold and silver will be carried by the mules,’ he muttered. ‘We have arranged for it to be hidden in boxes which are also filled with grain and barley. Everyone will think they are just part of our food supplies. No one will know any different by taking just a casual glance.’

  The room fell silent.

  ‘How will we find our way to this sacred Vandal grove?’ Fergus said.

  Slowly Hadrian turned to look at Fergus.

  ‘A good question, Tesserarius,’ the Legate muttered. ‘On our expedition we will be accompanied by a Vandal prince, a man named Gaiseric. He has agreed to take us to the sacred grove of his people. It is the place where they worship their gods. The other Vandal chieftains will meet us there.’ Grimly Hadrian turned to look at the men assembled around the table. ‘Gaiseric has promised to give us free passage through the lands to the north. He claims to have authority to do this. He is an important man amongst the Vandals. He will be our principle go-between; between us and the Germans.’

  ‘Does he know about the gold and silver?’ Titus growled unhappily.

  Hadrian shook his head in slight exasperation. ‘He knows about the subsidy,’ the Legate snapped. ‘He helped set the price. I know what you are thinking Centurion but you are just going to have to trust the man. He has proved himself a loyal and useful ally in the past.’

  ‘If you say so Sir,’ Titus growled.

  ‘What about you?’ Fergus suddenly piped up turning to Adalwolf with a challenging look. ‘I thought you said that you were a guide. I thought you said you knew the land beyond the frontier better than any living man. Why are you not taking us to this Vandal temple?’

  Across the table Adalwolf surveyed Fergus coolly, with a hint of irritation. But before Adalwolf could reply, Hadrian interrupted him.

  ‘Prince Gaiseric is our guide,’ the Legate snapped. ‘It has already been settled. There will be no more discussion. I am going to need him during our discussions with the Vandal leaders. He is an important man amongst our allies.’ Exasperated Hadrian glanced around the table. ‘Now Adalwolf here will give you a briefing on what you and your men are likely to expect beyond the frontier. You will do well to listen to this.’

  Giving Fergus a disapproving look, Adalwolf ran his hand across his chin as all eyes turned to the German amber merchant.

  ‘If you look at the map,’ the merchant said quietly in his thickly accented Latin as he placed his finger on Carnuntum. ‘Once we cross the river we will head north following the amber road until we reach the Moravian gates. For those of you unfamiliar with the amber road. It is the main route from the amber producing regions far to the north, to their markets within the Roman Empire. Carnuntum is the point where the road enters the Empire. There is no road of course, not like any Roman road that you are used to, but there is a well-trodden trail and we should be able to barter for supplies along the way with the local villages. The Germans along our route are used to seeing traders and Roman merchants. Our food stores will not last us for the two months in which we will be gone. So, we must supplement them with barter and hunting.’

  Adalwolf paused as he stared down at the papyrus. Then slowly his finger moved northwards and into an area of blankness on the map.

  ‘The Moravian gates are a pass through the mountains,’ Adalwolf muttered, “To the east the Carpathian mountains and to the west the Sudeten mountains. Once we are through the pass we will swing north-west, leaving the amber road as we strike out for the Vandal holy grove that lies on top of Mount Sleza, here.’

  Adalwolf tapped the map with his finger. Then he looked up and his eyes found Fergus.

  ‘Our best defence is to keep a low profile and to keep moving,’ Adalwolf said sharply. “The Marcomanni and Quadi are certainly no friends of Rome but then they are not as well organised as Rome. Hopefully we will have passed through their territory before their leaders can mount an effective response. Beyond the frontier, in the barbarian lands, there are no roads, no towns, no cities, no baths, no forts, no Roman civilisation. The land is covered in vast, dense forests with scattered villages. The German tribes do not live like Romans. It is possible for a small group like us, to slip through their territory without meeting any serious opposition. If we are challenged, we are a party of merchants heading north on the amber road. Prince Gaiseric and his men should also help.’

  Adalwolf turned to Titus.

  ‘Now the other problem that we are going to encounter is winter. The winter in the mountains and forests is truly horrendous and something none of you have ever experienced. Freezing temperatures, a lack of food, no wild-game and snow-storms so thick you will hardly be able to see the next man in front of you. In such conditions, you are going to find it hard to move and our pace will slow dramatically. So, Lord Hadrian has arranged for all your men to be issued with special winter cloaks, socks, gloves and other cold weather equipment after my own design. Your men will also be given specially-designed covers for their shields and oil to keep their swords from freezing in their scabbards.’ Adalwolf paused and raised his hand to stroke his chin. “But if any of your men become ill and incapable of keeping up with us, they must be left behind. We cannot be slowed down by stragglers. Make sure that your men are aware of this.’

  ‘I will not leave any of my men behind,’ Titus said calmly turning to Adalwolf.

  Adalwolf sighed and turned to look at Fergus.

&nb
sp; ‘I wouldn’t worry about that Centurion,’ the German amber merchant muttered. ‘As your company is the finest in the whole Legion I don’t expect this to happen anyway.’

  ‘Alright, any questions?’ Hadrian said.

  But around the table the assembled officers remained silent.

  ‘Good,’ the Legate exclaimed turning to look at the officers around the table. ‘Then have your men collect their equipment from the harbour master and tell them to get some rest. We leave tonight as soon as it is dark. That will be all.’

  ***

  It was dark and in the heaven’s, there was no sign of the stars or the moon. The two naval transports that had brought the expedition to the other side of the Danube had already silently vanished back into the night. In the darkness, the men from Fergus’s company were down on one knee, their shields protecting their bodies and their spears facing outwards into the night. Fergus picked his way carefully along the small crescent shaped, perimeter that the company had thrown up around the beach upon which they had landed. Behind him, down by the water’s edge the mule drivers and Batavian cavalrymen were still getting themselves organised and their curses and the soft, protesting-whinny of horses and the braying of the mules was the only sound. Beyond the perimeter, in the darkness of the night, all seemed quiet and peaceful.

  ‘What are they doing back there, Sir?” one of the men whispered in the darkness, as Fergus came past, counting and tapping each man on the shoulder.

  ‘Fuck knows,’ Fergus muttered.

  He moved on down the line and in the darkness, he could feel his new thick-woollen socks on his feet. His heavy white winter cloak, which he’d pulled over his body armour was certainly warm but it made him feel a lot heavier. The men had at first complained about the weight of their new white-woollen winter coats but the muttering and protests had subsided when Fergus had explained how cold it was going to get in the mountains, and how the new cloaks would probably save their lives. On the spur of the moment, he had told the men that it would be a court martial offense if they lost or discarded their winter equipment.