by David Black
Inside the huge depot, it was a hive of activity. Lines of men dressed in local garb carried sacks across their shoulders, hefting their dusty burdens onto wooden carts and wicker panniers strapped to the backs of mules. Local drovers stood beside their teams of docile oxen, waiting for the order to hitch their animals to the next fully loaded wagon. When the signal to move came, they pulled the laden wagon clear of the loading point and joined the waiting supply convoy forming on the other side of the busy depot. Beside the open doors of the nearest grain store, Arminius watched as an aging clerk wearing the uniform of the supply corps carefully marked off the procession of sacks on a clay tablet, as each one was carried from the stone building behind him.
Arminius walked past the line of waiting animals towards the main headquarters building. Two sentries drew their spears close to their chests and snapped to attention as he approached. Arminius stopped beside one of them.
‘I have orders to report to Prefect Verillian.’
The legionary was used to officers in transit, intent on making their way to their new Legion stationed in the interior.
With a jerk of his head the guard replied crisply.
‘Yes sir. You’ll want the second door inside on the right. See the clerk if the Prefect isn’t there and he’ll sort you out.’
Arminius nodded and stepped inside. The corridor was empty. He counted off the second door and knocking lightly opened it and went in. Sitting behind a desk was a portly officer studying a manifest. Assuming he had found his man, Arminius saluted and said.
‘Decurion Arminius reporting, Sir. I have orders to report the General Varus’ summer headquarters.’
The Camp Prefect looked up from his supply list, his brow furrowed. Staring up at the tall cavalry officer he mouthed Arminius’ name slowly, as if trying to remember.
‘You have your orders with you?’
Arminius nodded and reached beneath his tunic. He handed a scroll to the Prefect, who unrolled it and read.
‘Ah yes, I remember now. You were due yesterday, why are you late?’
Arminius was ready for the question.
‘Bad weather delayed my last connection Sir. There was a savage storm and the coastal ship I was travelling on put into port until it blew itself out.’
Satisfied with the answer, rolling up the scroll the Prefect sniffed absently. Sudden storms along the treacherous coast of Gaul were always delaying his tight schedules.
‘Hmm, very well. You will join the next supply convoy leaving at dawn.’ He handed the scroll back to Arminius. ‘Go and get something to eat at the officer’s mess and report at first light to the escort commander at the east gate.’
Arminius saluted again. With a curt ‘Thank you Sir.’ He turned and went in search of a hot meal.
* * * * *
‘Sir, wake up. It’s almost dawn!’
Arminius snapped into wakefulness. After serving for two years with the 7th Claudia Legion in Pannonia, he was well versed in the early morning routine of the Roman army. The legionary who had woken him saluted and left the tent where Arminius had slept away the night. Sitting up on his wooden cot, Arminius stretched the tiredness from his body, threw off his blanket and shivering in the chill pre-dawn air stood up and reached for his armour.
The supply train was fully formed. Long rows of carts pulled by oxen and heavily laden and loudly braying mules lined up inside the compound beside the east gate. At their head, the cavalry section forming the escort was waiting for the final order to depart. Arminius was eager to find the mount he had arranged the previous evening and make his report to the escort’s commander. A legionary was standing near the closed gate, holding the reins of two horses. Arminius walked up to the legionary and asked.
‘I am Decurion Arminius. Is one of these my mount?’
The legionary snapped to attention and nodded. ‘Yes Sir. I’ve brought them over for you on the order of the Decurion in charge of the depot’s stables.’
Arminius nodded as the legionary handed him the reins of the horse he had chosen. As he began to walk the animal forward, he saw the escort commander talking to one of his men. The commander was a junior Decurion dressed in the tunic and chainmail armour of a German auxiliary.
Clearing his throat, Arminius spoke to him.
‘My name is Decurion Arminius. I am ordered to join you and proceed to General Varus’ new summer headquarters.’
The junior cavalry officer saluted Arminius and said.
‘Yes sir, I was told to expect you... Have you served in Germania before Sir?’ Although his Latin was passable, his heavy accent betrayed the young officer had been recruited from one of the local tribes in the pacified interior. His accent was strangely familiar.
Arminius allowed himself the luxury of a wry smile.
‘You could say that. I was taken from my tribe as a child to Rome as an Imperial hostage.’
Arminius saw genuine surprise in the junior officer’s eyes. But there was something else; there was a hint of suspicion too. As he climbed into his saddle Arminius added.
‘I am Herman...Son of Segimer, chief of the Cherusci tribe.’
His mouth fell open as the junior officer stepped back in surprise. For a moment, wide-eyed he was routed to the spot before his wits returned. Struggling to recover from his surprise he said.
‘Herman, Son of Segimer? No. Surely not...Can it really be true?’
Arminius looked sternly down at the dumfounded auxiliary and nodded. To reinforce his heritage he slipped back to his native Cherusci dialect he remembered from long ago.
‘Oh it’s true all right...now tell me, who exactly are you?’
The auxiliary beamed. Pointing his thumb to his chest he said in the native tongue. ‘Don’t you recognise me Herman? I am Rolf, your blood cousin, son of Attilus... Don’t you remember me?’
Arminius nodded. He mind flashed back. He did remember a small sickly boy called Rolf who had come to his father’s hut to be nursed by his mother, who was well versed in the use of the medicines found among the wild flowers and herbs of the forest. His mind also flashed back to the fate of Rolf’s father in the arena.
This was not the time thought Arminius. Brightly he said. ‘Yes of course... I do remember you. Cousin Rolf.’ He smiled as he stared at the powerfully built young man before him. ‘But you were so small and weak then?’
Rolf laughed with genuine pleasure. ‘Your mother cured me of my sickness and nursed me back to full health.’ His eyes glazed for a moment. Suddenly were they filled with bitterness.
‘I still remember that freezing morning when they took you cousin. After you had gone your father and mother told the Romans I was their younger son.’ The smiles fell away as he added sadly. ‘So they didn’t take me away like my own parents and my brothers and sisters.’ With a sigh he said sadly. ‘You know, I have never seen or heard from any of them since.’
Arminius nodded sympathetically. He knew their fate only too well.
‘Yes Rolf, I remember it clearly. It was a dark day and a terrible time for us all...’
Suddenly, a horn blew a long baritone note from high on the depot’s defensive wall. It echoed across the interior then faded towards the slowly brightening horizon. Rolf straightened. The huge bolts rumbled as they were withdrawn by the guards, and the heavy east gates swung open.
‘That is the signal I have been waiting for cousin. I must lead the supply column from the depot and begin our journey to the summer camp of General Varus. It is a long slow journey but we must go quickly...’
As Rolf turned and raised his arm to signal those behind them to prepare to move, Arminius nodded silently to himself. He felt a strange stirring inside. In the halls of his mighty ancestors the uncertain wheels of fate had inexorably been set in motion. He knew he had taken the first step in a journey of destiny, to which there would be no going back.
For the time being though, he knew it wise to keep his own council, but this chance meeting had been a good omen and
a worthy beginning. Casting aside the false deities of Rome, he was sure the ancient spirits who dwelt in the dark forests and lurked in the deep rivers of Germania had heard him... within hours of setting foot on the rich soil of his homeland the Gods had bestowed their first blessing.
He stared at the back of Rolf’s helmet and kicked his own mount forward. Already he thought he had been graced with their bounty. It could be the invaluable gift of his first real ally. Never far from his thoughts, the flame of vengeance flared hot as its fire surged through his beating breast. One day he thought to himself...one day he would avenge his people and the hated Romans would pay. He would drown them in a sea of their own blood....
CHAPTER 5
Rolf had been right in his assessment. The journey towards General Varus’ distant headquarters and the summer campaigning encampment of the Legion’s Eagles seemed to go on forever. Constrained to the pace of the slowest carts, the supply column ground on at walking pace towards its final destination. The forest’s canopy blossomed in the distance under the warm spring sunshine.
The path of the primary supply route followed the River Lippe upstream for many miles before eventually turning north. The going was flat and easy; Roman engineers had cleared and levelled the route several years earlier. Where needed, sturdy wooden bridges had been constructed, over the deep and treacherous watercourses which occasionally rushed and foamed across the supply convoy’s path. The engineers’ hard work ensured no natural obstacle further slowed the convoy’s already sluggish progress towards their final destination.
The supply convoy arrived at the first fortified way station close to dark on the first day.
After the animals were fed and the wagons put safely under guard the men looked to their own comfort. Arminius and his cousin sat alone beside their small cooking fire. Lost in his own thoughts, Rolf absently poked the fire with a stick, sending sparks dancing into the night.
‘Is there ever trouble with local tribes Rolf?’ Arminius asked.
His cousin shrugged. ‘There is always trouble with someone Herman. The Romans impose their laws on us all, but they can’t be everywhere at once.’
Arminius nodded. ‘I noticed that you put plenty of men out on guard tonight. I thought we were in pacified territory?’
His cousin stared at him and then smiled grimly.
‘There are many families out there who are hungry. The Romans increase the taxes every year and our people can only grow so much.’ He shrugged. ‘When the tax gathers depart from a settlement after the harvest has been gathered in, there is sometimes not enough to last out the winter and the people starve. Fully laden supply columns like this make tempting targets when the wolf growls in their children’s empty bellies.’
Arminius stared into the burning coals before him. The glow reflected in his dark eyes as he asked.
‘But what of the feuds between the tribes, Rolf? Do they still raid and fight each other like in the old days?’
Rolf sniffed. ‘No, not so much since the Romans came. Our new masters have forbidden it. It does still happen sometimes of course, but the punishments outweigh the gain of booty.’ He grinned. ‘There is no love lost between us even now, old feuds still smoulder but it’s mostly quiet.’
Arminius was probing. There were still several days ahead of them before they reached General Varus so he asked just one more question.
‘If punishment is due to a tribe, exactly who meters it out, you or the Romans?’
Rolf laughed. ‘Unless they wish to question our loyalty, the Romans punish where they will, in their own way. They like to divide and conquer but they don’t usually push us too far. After all, as auxiliaries we provide the majority of their cavalry and light infantry.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. Knowingly he said, ‘The last thing they want is a mutiny within their own ranks.’
After breaking camp at dawn next day, Arminius rode at the usual walking pace at the head of the supply train beside his cousin. Only a few of his men followed behind as bodyguards and standard bearers. The rest were out providing a mounted screening force, while one patrol checked that the route ahead was clear, another acted as the column’s rear-guard.
Somewhere high above the winding column, a skylark sang its welcome to the spring.
The blue sky was cloudless and the wind blew gently, barely enough to create a ripple on the open grassland which surrounded them. The flat plain ahead rolled on towards the horizon, but the land to their left was becoming more undulating and wooded by the mile.
Arminius noticed movement on the tree line, some three hundred yards away. It was a magnificent stag in the prime of its life that had wandered from the cover of the forest. It was intent on grazing peacefully at the lush grasses growing on the tree line’s edge. Suddenly it raised its antlered head and sniffing the air caught their scent. It stood defiantly watching them. Suddenly it turned and bounded back into the dense cover of the trees. Arminius pointed at the disappearing animal.
‘Fancy some fresh meat tonight?’
Rolf shook his head. ‘No. We are forbidden to enter. That is the beginning of the Teutoburg Wald.’
Arminius sniffed. To him it was just another of many vast woodland tracts he remembered from his youngest days.
‘So?’
‘The headquarters of General Varus is perhaps only thirty miles across from it on the far side of the Wald, roughly in that direction.’ His cousin raised his arm and pointed towards the heart of the immense forest. He continued. ‘Our standing orders are to always go round, never through because, well, you understand the fighting doctrine of the Legions better than do I.’
Arminius nodded. After two solid years of waging war against the rebels in Pannonia, he knew exactly what Rolf was getting at. The Legions were practically invincible when they could deploy in the open in their large scale set piece formations. Fighting hand to hand in dense tightly packed formations they had defeated the wild charges of less disciplined enemies for centuries, even faced by seemingly overwhelming numbers. Open ground was the key, it allowed cavalry to deploy on the flanks and range freely across the battlefield. Even bolt and stone throwing artillery could be used if there was sufficient room to use them.
Rolf continued. His tone for once was almost sombre.
‘I hunted in there for a wager once, against my better judgement. The Teutoburg Wald is dense and gloomy inside. It has a dank eerie atmosphere where the trees fold over the skies and keep much of it shaded in semi-darkness, even on the brightest of summer days. It is the realm of demons and the dark spirits of the dead.’ The junior Decurion shuddered at the memory. ‘There are countless ridges and gullies in there too. Break a leg in its depths and believe me cousin, you’re finished. Many ponds of standing water seem to appear from nowhere as you ride through the forest and beside them are great areas of badly drained marshland. They can swallow a man and his horse without trace. You know soaking ground is a nightmare to travel across.’
Arminius held up his hand and laughed. ‘Very well Rolf, you have convinced me. No meat tonight. Slower is safer.’
His cousin looked suddenly apologetic. ‘Forgive me Herman. I fear no man, but I fear getting lost in there above all things. It is a place that reeks of evil, where the soul could be trapped forever.’
Arminius smiled his understanding. ‘I suppose there must be hidden hunting tracks running through the Wald somewhere? The forest must be full of game and no doubt someone lives in there and uses them?’
Rolf nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose there are, but they would be fools if they didn’t guard such secret and precious routes like hidden gold.’
The two men rode on in silence for a while.
Rolf felt relief that his cousin had understood his reasons for the long slow route around the dank green hell of the Teutoburg, and didn’t consider him a coward.
Arminius had something else to occupy his mind. Like Rolf, he was preoccupied with the dark expanse of the Wald. As he remembered his father’s almost forgotte
n tales of war against the Romans, his mind was following a very different path as they rode together. Once again he thought the Gods of the great forests were smiling on their newly returned Cherusci prince.
CHAPTER 6
The rest of the journey was dull and uneventful. The column had wound its way past several settlements along the route but with explicit orders to make no contact with their sour faced inhabitants, the auxiliaries and drovers ignored them. A few had approached, dishevelled and dirty to beg for food, but had been quickly turned away empty handed by Rolf’s men. With the implicit threat of half drawn swords the hungry locals scampered back to the safety of their huts. They stood in their doorways scowling and cursing Rome and its lackeys as the supply train rumbled on and passed them by.
At last, days later, Arminius’ horse breasted a final ridge. The huge encampment they sought finally came into view. It was always an impressive site, even to the most experienced of soldiers. In the broad valley below, laid out in their thousands, in a precise grid pattern were the tents of the three Legions. Each Legion had been designated its own area on the valley plain, but the layout was identical in all three encampments. Each cohort had the same section of ground allocated to it each time a campaign camp was built. The headquarters, hospital and even the latrines were also always uniformly placed in the same spot so the men could easily find anything they sought, even at night.
Surrounding each legion’s encampment, a high palisade twice the height of a man had been constructed from locally felled trees of uniform girth and height. Outside the wall, a deep ditch had been excavated by the legionaries as another barrier, and beyond that the ground was liberally sown with a carpet of sharpened wooden stakes and metal caltrops. Each caltrop was a small iron obstacle only inches high. They were manufactured in their thousands within each Legion’s forges. When sown by hand the caltrop was designed to always land with one of its sharp points facing upwards. Cheap to manufacture, the effect on horses’ hooves, light sandals or the naked feet of anyone foolish enough to attack the defensive walls was agonising, especially if the attack came in the darkness of night.
