Eagles of the Damned

by David Black

  Rolf had already been alerted to the close proximity of the encampment by one of his mounted patrols. Arminius turned to his cousin and said.

  ‘I will report our family tie to the Romans. They see conspiracy everywhere and it would not be good if we were suspected of disloyalty.’

  Rolf nodded. Germanic auxiliaries’ were given a high degree of respect as fighting men and were generally trusted within the Empire, but it would be foolish to omit the family connection and raise the slightest hint or suspicion of treachery. Arminius grasped his cousin’s forearm. Rolf returned the grip.

  ‘I must report to the General’s headquarters while you hand over the column and make your own report. When I have been assigned a position, I will seek you out.’

  Arminius kicked his horses’ flanks and cantered away from the supply train towards the gate of the nearest Legion. As he approached the temporary camp, a Centurion and an eight-man guard of legionaries doubled from the foot of the tower beside the gate and stood in his path.

  Hands on hips the Centurion waited as the mounted figure approached. Seeing the uniform and armour of a Senior Decurion the Centurion ordered his men to attention and saluted.

  ‘I’m looking for the headquarters of General Varus.’ Arminius returned the salute and waited for directions.

  The Centurion pointed towards an adjacent encampment.

  ‘Yes Sir. You’ll find it next to the 18th Legion’s headquarters, over there Sir.’

  Nodding his thanks Arminius turned his horse and cantered off towards the HQ. With his eyes still fixed on the disappearing back of the Decurion, the Centurion, to the amusement of his men spat onto the ground and muttered.

  ‘Bloody auxiliaries!’

  Remembering he had thought it might be some important Roman officer and called out the guard, the Centurion spun round. Angrily he snapped at them.

  ‘Right you men. Stop that sniggering and get yourself back into the guardroom sharpish...quick now...before you feel my sandal studs up your arse.’

  Arminius handed his reins to one of the grooms who waited outside the headquarters. The tented HQ complex was even bigger than the 18th’s. Decked throughout with wooden slats to provide mud free walkways, it housed the sleeping quarters of the General, briefing rooms, offices and even a banqueting suite where the old General could wine and dine high ranking guests. Behind the banqueting section stood another tented structure, where sweating cooks prepared meals for the General, his small army of staff officers, clerks and when necessary, visiting dignitaries.

  Used to the bustle of General Tiberius’ campaign HQ in Pannonia, Arminius calmly reported to the Prefect who ran the day to day administration of General Varus’ headquarters.

  Jabbing his arm forward with his fingers extended, Arminius saluted in the prescribed manner.

  ‘Senior Decurion Arminius reporting Sir, ordered to report from Legate Ovarious’ 7th Claudia Legion, currently stationed in Pannonia serving under General Tiberius.’

  Arminius handed the scroll which contained his movement orders and details to the Prefect. A clerk entered the Prefect’s office carrying a bundle of clay tablets.

  ‘I found those records you wanted Sir.’

  The Prefect looked up from the transit orders he was studying. Irritated by the interruption he snapped.

  ‘Not now Tribius, I’m busy and will deal with them in a moment.’ Dismissing the clerk from further thought he went back to reviewing the scroll. When he finished reading he looked up at the tall Decurion still standing silently to attention before him.

  ‘Your record is impressive Arminius. Legate Ovarious speaks highly of your quick wits and valour. Promoted to Senior Decurion after the siege of Andetrium I see?’ Suddenly his eyes narrowed. ‘Were you aware that the General personally requested your transfer?’

  Arminius was startled by the news. ‘No Sir, I wasn’t aware..’

  The Prefect waved Arminius to silence.

  ‘Well, no matter.’

  He turned his eyes to the Decurion’s dirt streaked uniform.

  ‘Well, it’s getting late and you’re certainly not going to meet the General in that condition.’ He turned his attention to his personal clerk who was still awkwardly holding the bundle of tablets.

  ‘Put those down and go and find somewhere for this officer to sleep... And while you are at it get his uniform cleaned and his armour polished.’

  As the clerk carefully placed the tablets on an adjacent desk the Prefect turned back to Arminius.

  ‘I want you here at dawn tomorrow. The General is a busy man but I’ll try to get you an audience when I can. I know he is keen to talk to you.’ He rested his hand on the scroll. ‘I’ll keep this; the general will want to review it.’ With a flick of his hand he added. ‘That is all for now Decurion. You are dismissed.’

  Arminius saluted and left the office, closely followed by the Prefect’s clerk.

  Standing alone in his tent, Arminius washed himself in the bucket of warmed water. It had arrived shortly after Tribius had shown him to his bed space in the temporary accommodation plot beside the 18th Legion’s officer’s mess. Free of interruption, he considered his next move carefully. First, he decided not to mention his uncle’s death in the arena to Rolf. As it had been Varus who had passed the death sentence, the last thing Arminius wanted was to ignite a fresh blood feud. It was too easy to imagine Rolf trying to settle what he would see as a debt of family honour by attacking the General with his sword. Arminius knew he needed Rolf and his tough squadron of German auxiliaries as allies. There was no question that their future assistance would be absolutely vital to the plan that was beginning to come together in his mind.

  Secondly, he considered the unexpected circumstances of the General requesting his transfer from the 7th Claudia. His Legate had initially opposed the move, but he had been overruled. As he had never met Varus, what did the old man want, and why him? It was true that he had distinguished himself during the breaking of the siege of Andetrium but so had many other officers. It would certainly have reinforced his credentials and loyalty in the eyes of the Roman high command of course, but that was not enough to be called halfway across the Empire. What did a German officer of auxiliaries have to offer he wondered? There was only one answer. It had to be something to do with his heritage.

  Drying himself, Arminius decided the only way to play Varus was to wait and see what the old man wanted with him, when his audience was granted next day.

  CHAPTER 7

  Arminius had expected a long wait when he presented himself to the Prefect next morning, before the sun broke on the horizon. To his surprise the Prefect had immediately ushered him into an anti-room and said.

  ‘The General always rises before his men. He is currently at his breakfast and has ordered that you join him...wait here.’

  With that, the Prefect turned and entered another flap within the small room’s tented walls. Arminius heard muffled voices and the Prefect suddenly returned. Sternly he said.

  ‘Enter as soon as I announce you. Salute but don’t speak until spoken to and keep your answers short and to the point...do you understand?’

  Arminius nodded.

  The Prefect disappeared again through the hanging flap. Moments later he heard him say.

  ‘Senior Decurion Arminius Sir; recently transferred to your command from the 7th Claudia Legion.’

  Taking a deep breath, Arminius threw back the flap and marched in. He recognised Varus instantly. The General was lying comfortably on a cushioned couch, biting into a piece of bread he had taken from one of the bowls of food which lay on a low table before him. He looked older than Arminius remembered him. The room was furnished with silk wall hangings depicting scenes from Rome. The floor was covered with a rich gold carpet; around its edge was a broad purple strip. There was the faintest smell of incense hanging in the air. On a small table was a jumble of small oblong blocks with magical symbols painted one on each side.

  Arminius halted sm
artly several feet from the food laden table and saluted. He remained at attention with his eyes fixed firmly above the General’s head.

  Varus put down the bread and swallowed the piece in his mouth. With a smile of welcome he said.

  ‘Ah yes, Arminius, I am delighted to meet you at last. Please, sit down and relax, you don’t need to worry, we are all friends here.’ He turned his gaze away and said ‘Isn’t that right Dalious?’

  The Prefect had remained at attention. In a clipped tone he replied.

  ‘Yes Sir, quite correct, Sir. All friends here.’

  Varus nodded and smiled. ‘That will be all, thank you Dalious.’

  The Prefect saluted, turned smartly and left the room.

  General Varus returned his gaze to his guest.

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  Arminius shook his head. ‘No Sir.’

  Varus swept his hand towards the food. ‘Then sit down, relax and join me in breakfast, Decurion. I have a busy schedule today so let’s talk while we eat.’ He stared down at the table. ‘The bread is still hot and excellent. I recommend the garum. It is simply superb...my own stock you know from the waters off Alexandria.’

  Arminius nodded, sat down awkwardly on the couch opposite the General and helped himself to one of the warm hulks of bread. Like most who served in the Legions, he had developed a great liking for garum. Eagerly he spread the pungent fish paste over his bread and bit into it. The General was right, it was delicious.

  Arminius nodded his appreciation and said.

  ‘Thank you, Sir. I’ve never tasted better.’

  General Varus grinned conspiratorially and laughed.

  ‘Yes, don’t let on but good garum is one of the perks of being in charge when on campaign.’ Casting his hand towards the small side table Varus enquired. ‘Tell me, have you seen those things before?’

  Arminius nodded. ‘Yes sir. They are runes, sometimes used by haruspex; the diviners of mystery and truths who can interpret the omens in the entrails of animals, and sometimes foretell the future.’

  Renowned throughout the Empire for his superstition, the general beamed.

  ‘Yes, and I have a most gifted haruspex who divines daily for me. He was here earlier when he cast the runes in my morning reading. He foretold me that the future seemed somewhat clouded but divined that great success awaits those with the courage to grasp it...Tell me Decurion, what say you of such things?’

  Arminius shook his head slowly. He knew he must not cause offence to a man of the General’s stature who believed. Cautiously he said. ‘I have not been blessed with the gift of divining the future Sir, but I know such men talk to the shades of the dead and do other things we cannot. Their power is a gift from the Gods and only a fool would scorn them or ignore their predictions.’

  Varus nodded, delighted to hear that his guest was so enlightened. ‘Quite right young man, well said.’

  Having removed some formality, and, he hoped put his subordinate at ease, the General’s grin faded. ‘Now then Arminius, son of Segimer, clan chief of the Cherusci, let’s get down to business.’

  General Varus clasped his hands together and rested his chin on his finger tips.

  ‘I expect you are wondering why you are here? Have you worked it out for yourself?’

  Arminius thought for a moment, the truth couldn’t hurt him. He said.

  ’Well Sir, you command three Legions. You have many capable officers serving under your command, the majority with far greater experience than I.’

  Arminius paused for a second to gauge the General’s reaction. He had played this game before, and played it well.

  The General smiled and nodded. ‘Go on.’ He said.

  Taking his cue Arminius continued. ‘I believe it must have something to do with my family background General.’

  Varus slapped his thigh with delight.

  ‘Excellent! You are absolutely right, that is exactly why I want you to serve me here in Germania.’ Helping himself to another piece of bread he enquired. ‘Tell me, what do you know of our mission here Decurion?’

  Arminius considered this question carefully. If he spoke the truth he knew it would destroy him. It was safer to speak the words of a loyal Roman citizen and officer of the Imperial army. He judged this meeting critical to his future and must at least for now do what he had done for many years. He must continue living the lie.

  Clearing his throat softly, he began his answer.

  ‘We are here on the orders of the Emperor to project Roman laws and civilisation Sir. As our Empire constantly expands we discover new peoples who can only benefit from our society. Many lands like Germania were wild and lacked any trace of peace before we came. They worshiped false Gods who demanded human sacrifice and wasted their time constantly warring against each other. As barbarians they didn’t have written records, roads, or a unified culture. To move forward they needed the balancing hand of Rome to guide them toward a better future.’

  With the practiced face of a true believer he added. ‘Clearly Sir, our efforts have brought the greatest prize of all to Germania...the gift of a peaceful and enlightened civilisation.’

  Varus jumped to his feet with delight.

  ‘Well put young man. I couldn’t have said it better. That is exactly why Rome’s soldiers are here.’

  Suppressing a smile of satisfaction Arminius nodded modestly. The Prefect had warned him to keep his answers short and to the point.

  Arminius had to move carefully. He had deliberately employed the same flowery rhetoric spoken in both the Senate and public places by powerful men. Their fine words cynically concealed the reality of Rome’s insatiable greed.

  In his last years of school Arminius had studied many eloquent speeches made by those who secretly coveted riches above all things. Their oratory carefully concealed the truth; justifying with high ideals invasion and conquest to those who still waivered in the Senate; invariably resulting in ringing cheers within the Forum, but also outside in the squares and market places from the ordinary people of Rome.

  ‘Your opinion does you credit Arminius.’ General Varus poured two cups of warmed watered wine and passed one to his guest. Arminius nodded, took the cup and smiled.

  Naturally, Arminius had also wisely ignored the plight of the hundreds of thousands Rome enslaved, tortured and put to death each year in the provinces, or the gold which flowed daily into the Imperial Treasury. Some of course found its way into the pockets of corrupt provincial governors and their crooked officials. Rome prospered and a few Romans grew rich by false accounting; the riches were looted from Rome’s ordinary people. The money flowed from the punitive taxation in the pacified lands, which the fighting men of the Legions had mercilessly subjugated, at the point of their blood-stained swords.

  On the parade square outside, Centurion’s orders rang out, calling men from warm tents to inspection and drill in the cold morning air. Hobnailed sandals pounded the ground and armour and weapons clinked as hundreds of legionaries hurried to their positions, hefting shields and straightening helmets beneath a flurry of barked orders.

  Ignoring the noise and distraction outside Varus resumed his seat and continued the interview.

  ‘Although I command three Legion here as a military General, I am also De Facto Governor of Germania. Sometimes I must remove the armoured helmet of a soldier and wear the soft cap of a politician.’ He smiled. ‘Of course, this is not my first Governorship you understand; I have served Rome as Governor before in both Africa and more recently in Syria too.’

  Arminius nodded in silence. When he was still at school, one of his classmates taken from Jerusalem had shown him a secret pamphlet smuggled out of Syria. It had declared Governor Varus had arrived in rich Syria a poor man, but had left poor Syria a rich man.

  Arminius kept his council, but was nevertheless listening carefully to every word.

  Varus stared over Arminius’ head, as if searching for his next words. Finding them he continued.

  ‘Na
turally, I gained great experience during the years I ruled distant provinces, on behalf of the Emperor. Those experiences have taught me that the key issue to successful control in a province is undoubtedly maintaining Pax Romana....the peace of Rome.

  Arminius nodded again as the General’s face looked far away for a moment, as he remembered.

  ‘While I was stationed in Syria, shortly after the client King Herod of Judaea died, there was a serious and prolonged uprising by the Jews. There had been much infighting within Herod’s extended family as different factions fought for the vacant throne. This civil unrest spread and escalated until it became open defiance of Rome, led by rebels who saw their chance for what they foolishly believed to be freedom.’

  The aging General sadly shook his head at the memory. ‘Of course, I put the Legions in straight away and crushed the revolt, but then I was criticised in Rome afterwards for my leniency towards the captured rebels. It is usual to execute the ringleaders and enslave the rest but at most, I crucified no more than a mere two thousand malcontents. What Rome didn’t seem to understand was that I was trying something new. I wanted to create a stable country under Pax Romana, not simply a host of new martyrs for future insurrection.’

  Arminius said gravely. ‘Yes Sir, I see.’

  General Varus sipped from his cup absently pausing for a moment as he savoured the wine’s aromatic flavour, then he continued.

  ‘Although with the help of the Legions I reinstated peace in the province, I was left afterwards with the profound feeling that if I had someone on the inside as it were, I would have been better forewarned of the uprising in the first place. I’m 72 and a firm believer now you see, that more politics and less force can achieve the same conclusion, and of course at the same time avoid dangerous criticism at home.’ Sadly, he shook his head. ‘I had to endure too much of it last time, from my enemies within the Senate.’