Germania (Veteran of Rome Book 5)

by William Kelso

  ‘Think I saw something move in the darkness, Sir,’ a legionary said quietly as Fergus tapped him on the shoulder.

  Fergus paused and silently turned to stare into the darkness.

  ‘What do you think you saw?’ he murmured.

  ‘Not sure,’ the soldier replied. ‘It was fleeting but something definitely did move. Could be an animal I suppose.’

  ‘Keep looking,’ Fergus said as he continued along the perimeter.

  Strange, he thought as he reached the river-bank. Ever since the company had boarded the transports, he’d had this feeling that they were being watched. But by who? Wearily Fergus shook his head. He must be just imagining things like the soldier he’d passed on his rounds. No one knew that the company was out here. In the darkness, no one would have seen them cross the river. But the unease would not go away and, as he stomped off to report to Titus that all men were present and accounted for, the moon suddenly appeared from behind the clouds and in its pale light, Fergus caught sight of the glimmering waters of the Danube. For a moment, he paused to stare at the calm, peaceful, gently rippling river. Would this be the last time he saw the Danube? Were any of his men going to come back from this expedition?

  ‘All men present and accounted for, Sir,’ Fergus murmured as he found Titus. The Centurion grunted and turned to look back at the river. The Batavians cavalry and the mule drivers had finally managed to sort themselves out and stood around in small groups looking lost.

  ‘If your men are all ready,’ Hadrian whispered from the darkness. ‘Then let’s go. We have a lot of ground to cover before me make camp. Give the order, Centurion.’

  ‘Yes Sir,’ Titus muttered as he started off into the darkness.

  A few moments later Fergus heard Titus’s softly-called orders ringing out. In the darkness, the legionaries rose to their feet, reached for their marching packs, slung them over their shoulders, lifted their shields up and began to file into the night after their Centurion. Fergus exhaled and was just about to follow the column that had begun to wind its way inland, when he felt something soft touch his cheek. Startled he looked up at the sky. In the heaven’s the moon had vanished again, casting them all back into blackness. But something was moving on the air currents and suddenly Fergus realised what was happening. It was snowing.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Amber Road

  Fergus strode along the forest path with one hand holding the wooden-pole that was slung over his shoulder together with his two spears and from which, all his personal equipment hung. He was clutching his shield in the other hand. The weight of his heavy white winter-cloak and all his equipment, felt like a ton pressing him down into the earth and despite the fresh layer of snow on the ground, his forehead was covered in sweat. The white linen-cloth that covered his shield had already gotten stained with mud. Wearily he peered up the path. It was nearly noon and the column was moving slowly but steadily through the forest in single file. Men, horses and mules were spread out along the forest path, and he could not see the advance guard. The trees closed in on both sides of the sandy track, dense, dark and their stark, rigid-branches covered in snow. Slowly, Fergus reached up to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. It had been four days since they had left the Danube and for the past three days they had not emerged from this endless, cursed forest. Nor had they encountered a single-living soul apart from a hunting party who had swiftly melted away into the forest. Bored, Fergus lifted his head and stared at the slaves and their fat limping-master, who was leading their mules down the path ahead of him. The mules too were heavily laden with sacks and boxes, weighing over two hundred pounds, strapped to their tough, rugged backs and carefully balanced on either side of them and in some of those boxes, hidden under the grain and wheat, was an enormous amount of gold and silver. Enough to fund your own private little army, Fergus thought. He licked his lips, at he stared at the slow-moving beasts of labour as they trudged along the path. Titus had placed him here, in the centre of the column, so that he could keep a careful eye on the precious cargo which the mules were carrying. That was his job. To keep an eye on the Emperor’s gold and silver.

  It was an hour or so later and the column had still not emerged from the forest, when Fergus suddenly noticed Adalwolf coming down the path towards him. The German merchant nodded a greeting as he caught sight of Fergus.

  ‘It’s your fucking fault that I am here,’ Fergus hissed, as Adalwolf began to walk alongside him. ‘If you hadn’t chosen my company I would be now be snug and safe inside my winter quarters. But now guess what? I am out here in the barbarian wilderness, protecting an Emperor’s ransom. And it’s all your fault.’

  ‘Double pay, that’s what the Lord Hadrian has promised you,’ Adalwolf retorted. ‘Is that not something?’

  ‘Shut up,’ Fergus growled looking away into the trees.

  ‘Come, let’s not fall out over this,’ Adalwolf said soothingly. ‘I thought you may like some company. Can’t imagine these slaves and their mules are much fun.’

  ‘I think I prefer the mules,’ Fergus snapped.

  Ignoring the jibe Adalwolf sighed. ‘You made a good first impression on the Lord Hadrian,’ the merchant murmured. ‘He likes you. He told me.’

  Next to Adalwolf, Fergus shook his head.

  ‘I think you have the wrong man,’ Fergus hissed. ‘I do not have sex with men. If the Legate thinks I do, then he is very much mistaken and if he dares touch me, I will report him. Homosexuality is forbidden by the army.’

  ‘Oh that,’ Adalwolf chuckled. ‘No that is not what I mean. He doesn’t like you in that way. He was impressed by you as an officer. You showed no fear or hesitation when you spoke up in our meeting before we left. Lesser men might have been too intimidated to speak out, but not you.’ Adalwolf paused and looked down at the ground. ‘He is a special man, Lord Hadrian,’ he said at last in a fond, respectful voice. ‘He understands his soldiers. He knows what they feel and he cares for their wellbeing. He likes being around his men. He is a good leader and he is a good soldier, just like you. You know that he is going to be Emperor one day, don’t you?’

  Fergus shook his head.

  “The rumour going around is that Emperor Trajan had him demoted and sent to lead us as punishment. Is that true?”

  Adalwolf turned to look around to see who was within earshot. Then slowly he nodded.

  ‘There seems to be some hostile politics at the imperial court but it will pass. Lord Hadrian will not be out of favour forever. One day, Trajan will recall him and forgive him and when he does I will go with him to Rome, Fergus.’

  ‘Well good luck with that,’ Fergus said in a tight voice. Then quickly he glanced at the German. The amber merchant had not just found him to engage in idle chat. Something seemed to be weighing on Adalwolf’s mind. Something he seemed to be having difficulty in saying.

  Adalwolf turned to gaze into the forest with a sudden nostalgic look. ‘Ah,’ he muttered half to himself, ‘The days of my youth seem so long ago now. When I was a young man like you are now, I used to love these wild places, the endless forest, the high snow-capped mountain peaks. I thought this was the whole world. But then one day I crossed the Danube with a raiding party and I saw the greatness that is Rome. I saw what true civilisation was and I became an admirer of Rome. We Germans, we spend all our time and energy fighting one another. We destroy; we hack each other to pieces; our blood feuds cross generations but, in the end, we leave nothing of any worth or note behind, unlike Rome.’ Adalwolf paused, as a distant look appeared in his eyes. ‘I have seen the great libraries of Rome, Fergus. I have seen the palaces, aqueducts, inventions and machines of the Romans. I have laid eyes upon a great civilisation. I have seen what Rome has achieved and I long to be part of that. The only way my people, the Vandals, will ever be remembered will be in the histories that you Romans write down in your books. But every time I start to believe that I am a Roman, I am reminded of my people, my proud and primitive, blood-thirsty Vandal kinsmen a
nd family out there in their wild forests.’ Adalwolf sighed. ‘I cannot let go of them, Fergus. A man must remain loyal to his ancestors. He cannot be something he is not. So, I became a German in service of Rome.’

  Slowly Adalwolf turned to look at Fergus with a sad little smile.

  ‘When I was a young man,’ Adalwolf said, ‘I too was a Prince of the Vandals just like Gaiseric. My father was leader of his tribe and I was his eldest son, destined to take over when he died.’

  ‘So what happened,’ Fergus said with a frown as he plodded on along the sandy forest track.

  ‘I murdered a man,’ Adalwolf said calmly. ‘I killed my brother and because of that I was banished, forbidden from returning to my people. My bones will never be allowed to lie beside those of my ancestors.’ Adalwolf sighed again. ‘That was twenty years ago and I have not seen my family since. But now, Fergus, now at last I am going home.’

  Slowly Fergus shook his head in confusion. Was this why Adalwolf had come to talk to him?

  ‘Your brother,’ he muttered. ‘You killed your own brother. Why?’

  ‘Because Rome has forced all the German tribes to make the same choice,’ Adalwolf snapped in a sudden harsh voice. ‘My bastard brother wished for the Vandals to be enemies of Rome and I wanted peace and an alliance with Rome. We quarrelled and he lost and as punishment they banished me.’ Adalwolf turned to stare at Fergus, his face transformed, aggressive and cold. ‘But now I am going home, Fergus, not to beg them for mercy and forgiveness but to prove to them that I was right all along. To show them that I was right to seek an alliance with Rome.’

  Fergus blew the air from his mouth and gave Adalwolf a crazy look.

  ‘So why does Hadrian not seem to trust you enough to let you lead us over the mountains to this holy German temple?’ Fergus retorted.

  At Fergus’s side, the older man shrugged and turned to look away.

  ‘That’s just politics,’ Adalwolf snapped. ‘Prince Gaiseric is an important Vandal nobleman even though he is also an arrogant prick. He will become the leader of his tribe when his father dies so, Lord Hadrian must show him respect. My people are proud, Fergus. Insults are remembered for life, blood feuds fester across generations and every warrior is easily insulted and quick to reach for his battle-axe. Death is never far away in our politics. They are a touchy-lot my kinsmen. Remember that.’ Adalwolf took a deep breath. ‘But they are also the greatest of all the German tribes, for my kinsmen are the bravest under the stars and as numerous. Hadrian is wise to seek an alliance with them. He is doing the right thing.’

  ‘Does Gaiseric know who you are?’ Fergus asked looking puzzled.

  ‘Gaiseric is a prick,’ Adalwolf sneered turning to look out into the forest as the two of them continued down the path. ‘His mouth says one thing but his heart says another,’ he added bitterly. ‘Gaiseric may pretend to be Lord Hadrian’s friend for now because it suits him, but in his heart, he is just like my bastard brother. He is no friend of Rome. I don’t trust him and neither should you, Fergus.’

  ‘But Hadrian seems to trust him,’ Fergus replied.

  ‘Hadrian is smarter than you think,’ Adalwolf retorted, ‘For the moment he needs Gaiseric. That is why it is he who is acting as our guide and not me. But his usefulness will not last forever.’

  ‘I agree,’ Fergus murmured as he wearily adjusted the pack over his shoulder. ‘Sometimes it feels as if our guide is leading us in circles through this endless forest.’

  Carefully Adalwolf turned to gaze at Fergus.

  ‘That is why I have come to talk to you,’ Adalwolf said in a quiet, deadly serious voice. ‘When the time comes, Fergus, Lord Hadrian is going to need you to kill Gaiseric.’

  Startled Fergus turned to stare at the German merchant.

  ‘What,’ Fergus exclaimed. “What are you talking about? Why would the Legate want to do that?’

  ‘Because,’ Adalwolf snapped as he started to stride away up the path, ‘Gaiseric is going to lead us all to our deaths.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine – The Watcher in the Forest

  A sharp cry along the forest trail brought the plodding column to an abrupt halt. Hastily Fergus left his post and strode past the mules and their attendant slaves until he reached the fat slave master, who’d been placed in charge of the slaves and animals. Up ahead, along the path, the legionaries and Batavian horsemen had come to a halt, stretched out in a long, single file amongst the trees. What was going on? As he peered down the track, Fergus suddenly saw Furius hastening towards him.

  ‘What is going on? Why have we stopped,’ Fergus called out as the Optio came up to him.

  ‘The scouts say there is a barbarian village up ahead,’ Furius replied glancing at the heavily laden mules. ‘Titus wants you to take a squad and accompany Gaiseric and his men into the village. The rest of us are going to hang back in the forest. You are to purchase hay from the villagers. The horses and mules need to eat. Get as much of the stuff as you can.’

  ‘Can’t Gaiseric handle that?’ Fergus grumbled.

  ‘No,’ Furius said shaking his head. ‘Titus wants a Roman to be present. Don’t ask me why, just do it, Fergus.’

  With a resigned sigh, Fergus patted Furius on the shoulder and started off down the path towards the front of the Roman column. As he strode past the men from his old squad, he beckoned to Aledus, their Decanus.

  ‘Aledus, I need your squad, follow me,’ Fergus snapped.

  Obediently his old comrades began to file after him, casting wary glances into the dark, snow covered forest. Up ahead at the front of the column, a small group of men stood amongst the trees, clustered around Hadrian and Titus. As he approached, Fergus caught sight of the tall, lanky figure of Gaiseric, standing beside Hadrian. The Vandal prince was clad in a black tunic, over which he was wearing a thick bearskin cloak. He looked around twenty. His head was covered in a fine, brown fur hat and an axe hung from his belt. In one hand, he was holding a spear and he was laughing. As he came towards the men, Fergus took the opportunity to carefully examine Gaiseric. So, this was the man who Adalwolf had told him he should kill. Was this the man who was going to lead them to their deaths? Scepticism crept across Fergus’s face. It was more likely that Adalwolf’s dislike of Gaiseric was nothing more than personal rivalry between two Vandals, - a contest to see who would become Hadrian’s most favoured and trusted advisor. That had to be the reason why Adalwolf disliked the man. Well, Fergus thought, he would be damned if he was going to carry out Adalwolf’s dirty work for him.

  ***

  In the forest, Gaiseric suddenly paused and peered at the trees ahead. Tensely Fergus raised his fist in the air and, behind him, the six legionaries came to a halt and crouched, ready to hurl their spears at anything that came at them. But in the forest around them, all was silent and nothing moved.

  ‘Over there, see,’ Gaiseric said quietly in his thickly accented Latin, turning his head slightly towards Fergus, as he pointed at something amongst the trees.

  Softly Fergus swore to himself. He had not spotted what Gaiseric had seen. There, thirty paces away through the trees, he suddenly noticed a small hut with a rough, low-hanging conical roof made of turf, straw and tree branches and covered in fresh snow. The primitive house seemed to be half subterranean with only the roof showing above ground, but it was definitely man-made. Fergus frowned as he stared at the hovel. Then as his eyes moved, on he noticed another and then another hovel. The constructions seemed to form a small circle in the dense forest. Then softly but clearly he heard the whinny of a horse, and a moment later the warning bark of a dog.

  Without uttering a word Gaiseric, began to stride towards the small German settlement. Silently Fergus pumped his fist in the air, the signal for his men to follow him. Then he started after Gaiseric and his three German companions. The Vandals showed no sign of hesitation as they headed straight towards the village. Fergus and his men, trailing, emerged cautiously from the trees into a forest clearing to see that Gaiseric had alre
ady found the villagers. The Germans had gathered around him as he rapidly spoke to them in their harsh sounding language. They were tall, bearded men, stern faced and serious looking, clad in thick animal hides, and all of them were armed, some with what looked like Roman knives. Close by, a dog stood barking at the strangers. As Fergus drew nearer, he saw that the dwellings all had dark openings that sloped downwards into the ground. There were five of them. And just as he was staring at the doorways, a blond-haired woman clutching a baby in her arms emerged from one of the hovels. She stopped in alarm as she caught sight of Fergus and his men. The woman was nearly a head taller than the Romans and her cloak was fastened by a fine Roman fibula, brooch, made of bone. Ignoring her, Fergus slowly moved over to where Gaiseric and his three companions were in conversation with the villagers.

  ‘Ask them if they have any hay,’ Fergus said turning to Gaiseric, ‘Tell them that we are a party of amber merchants and that we need hay for our horses and pack animals. Tell them we will pay them for it.’

  Gaiseric did not acknowledge Fergus. Instead he kept up his furious barrage of words, speaking so fast, Fergus wondered what he could be possibly be talking about and how the villagers could take it all in. As he patiently waited for Gaiseric to reply to him, he turned to gaze at the villagers. Some of the men too, seemed to have lost interest in Gaiseric and were giving Fergus curious glances. Then abruptly one of the villagers, an older man raised his hand and pointed straight at Fergus and spat something out in his intelligible language. Gaiseric hesitated and turned to give Fergus a quick glance.

  ‘They say they are happy to trade with you Roman,’ Gaiseric growled in his thick Germanic accent. ‘But they say that they need all their hay for their own animals. They say that the winter is going to be long. But if you like you and your men are welcome to drink some beer with them whilst they discuss what else they can sell to you. They are used to seeing Roman merchants.’