by David Black
Arminius pulled back gently on his reins and raising his arm, signalled the column to stop. There was movement ahead. An old man threw aside the blanket which covered the door of his thatched hut. Walking with the aid of a long staff he limped towards the officers at the head of the column.
The old man’s voice was bitter. There was no hint of welcome in it. In a croaking voice he demanded.
‘What do you want Roman? We have paid our taxes and my people have little enough left to eat. What is it then, will you take hostages again to ensure we pay your taxes?’
Arminius remained silent as he climbed down from his saddle. Beside him, Rolf dismounted. The two men walked towards the old man and stood before him.
For once, the pain of his past was gone from Arminius. It was replaced with something else; an emotion he hadn’t felt for many, many years. There was a sudden surge in his armoured chest, an overwhelming flood of pride, and then pure unadulterated joy.
Despite his years and failing eyesight the chieftain remained unflinching and defiant.
‘Well, what is it you want with my people now Roman, is it more tribute?’
Segimer squinted at the faces of the tall young men before him. He stepped forward and recognised his nephew instantly, but he didn’t recognise the other man. And why was Rolf grinning so, he wondered?
There was a long silence between them. Arminius stared at the old man and swallowed the lump which had suddenly come into his throat. Removing his helmet, he spoke softly.
‘Don’t you recognise me father?...I am Herman...your eldest son!’
The ailing chieftain stumbled backwards. Arminius grabbed his father’s elbow and steadied him before he fell. Segimer’s chest heaved and tears weld in his eyes with sudden shock. Disbelief changed to recognition in his tired bloodshot eyes.
Segimer muttered between shallow gasps.
‘Herman? Is it really you?’
Arminius beamed. ‘Yes father. Truly...It is me!’
To the delighted cheers of his escort Segimer dropped his staff and threw back his arms before enveloping his long lost son in a bear hug.
There were tears now from both of them. His voice lost its frailty for a moment as Arminius’s father roared.
‘By the Gods Herman. It is you!’
* * * * *
Despite his initial protests, Arminius secretly welcomed the banquet his father ordered that night to celebrate the return of his son. The hunters sent into the forest returned triumphantly before dark. Their success was before them. A huge wild boar and two deer turned slowly on spits as they roasted slowly above smoking beds of glowing embers, which spat and sizzled as globules of fat dripped from the carcasses and splashed into the burning charcoal below.
Arminius and his men had gladly shed their uniforms and weapons. All were now dressed in the same linen trousers and smocks as the villagers who surrounded them and noisily shared their celebration. Arminius had chosen carefully. The troopers of his personal escort hailed from the settlement, or shared kin who lived there. All were trusted and welcomed.
Sitting at the high table, Segimer guzzled down another horn of mead. He belched loudly and smacked his lips with pure pleasure. Rivulets of honey coloured liquid dripped from his beard as he called for another horn from one of the boys who waited on his table. Beside him, reflected in the light of the cooking fires and burning torches which ringed the clearing Arminius watched the faces of his people. They seemed genuinely happy with his return. Word had spread like wildfire, and Cherusci families had drifted in from the surrounding settlements during the afternoon, as Arminius told his father of his childhood in Rome.
Many of the men were getting louder and louder as they talked and laughed with their friends in the flickering light. It was a sure sign that the potent mead was doing its work.
Arminius sipped from his own vessel. The mead was sweet and delicious. He turned to his father and said.
‘If things are so bad father, I know the animals came from the forest, but where did you get so much to drink?’
Segimer turned to his son and tapped the side of his nose with his finger. His voice slurred as he answered.
‘We have to play a dangerous game Herman. The Roman bastards always get what they demand, but they don’t know our secret hiding places. They would see us starve, they couldn’t care less.’ He slammed his fist onto the wooden table. ‘But I won’t see my people suffer through the winter to feed those pigs.’
Taking a great gulp from his brimming horn Segimer grinned drunkenly.
‘We have a few secret stores of grain and barrels of mead hidden throughout our land.’ He shrugged. ‘If they find one stash they think themselves clever, but they are stupid bastards because they will never find them all!’
The aging chieftain hiccupped happily as the first platters of steaming meat were brought from the cooking fires and placed before him. He waved imperiously across the table.
’Ah! Now enough talk of sad times. Eat and drink your fill tonight Herman. Remember the joy you have brought to this old man’s heart, and how your people celebrate the miracle of your return.’
Arminius smiled. Now was not the time to plan and plot. He would seek his father’s wise council on war in the morning. Tonight, he could be his true self and drop the facade of lies and deception. Surrounded by laughter and his people’s happiness he would give himself up to the celebration, and be who he truly was.
He surrendered gracefully to his father’s wishes and gave himself over to the new and wonderful experience of being surrounded with family, true friends and allies. As he drained his horn and demanded another, he smiled to himself.
At last, he thought, he had made it home. For once, he basked luxuriantly in the warmth of true happiness.
CHAPTER 10
Arminius stood before his General and a panel of senior officers. He had been gone for five days, and now he had returned safely to the Legions it was time to make his first report. There was an air of cold formality in the room which put him on his guard. He knew of the resentment and mistrust among the men sitting before him. He chose his words carefully.
‘I rode into the homelands of my own tribe first General. I had to begin making contact somewhere, and I thought it best to inform my own people of my return, and earn their trust.’
General Varus rubbed his chin and nodded.
‘Yes, that makes sense. What happened?’
Arminius smiled.
‘My father Segimer was suspicious at first after he got over the shock of seeing me, but when I explained your plan to increase trade, after a lot of talking I managed to convince him. He did take some persuading but eventually my father saw the wisdom of it. Once he had warmed to the idea of improving the life of the Cherusci through trade he gave his agreement and said he would call a council of the tribal elders. He promised me he would personally see to it that the Cherusci people welcomed our merchants into his settlements. I suggested that as his forests abound with game, he might begin by bartering fresh meat and furs.’ Arminius smiled. ‘I know that meat would be welcomed by our men, and pelts are prized among the merchants who have joined us here.’
The old General beamed with pleasure.
‘Well done Arminius. That is exactly what I wanted to hear. You appear to have made an excellent beginning.’
Arminius bowed his head in recognition of the praise he had received.
‘What else did he agree to?’ enquired Varus.
‘My father has also given his permission for us to start building a road through Cherusci territory. This will facilitate us easy access and make trade easier.’
The Legate of the 17th Legion interrupted.
‘And make it easier to move troops in there quickly if they are needed.’
Arminius nodded. ‘Yes Sir, of course, but I didn’t labour that point.’
Most of the commanders and staff officers smiled. Only one remained stony faced.
The officer sitting furthest from G
eneral Varus enquired.
‘Permit me General; I have a question if I may?’
Varus nodded. ‘Of course Prefect, feel free to ask your question.’
Marcos turned his head and stared coldly at Arminius.
‘My Legate is away on leave at the moment but he’ll want to know why you have reorganised the 18th’s cavalry in such a manner to surround yourself only with members of your own tribe?’
Arminius felt the cold hand of the Prefect’s suspicion on his shoulder. To hesitate would suggest hidden purpose, and could spell disaster.
Keeping his face relaxed, Arminius smiled and answered quickly.
‘A good question, Sir. The General gave me permission to recruit my own staff when I accepted the post. As you know, I must travel into dangerous territories in the coming months. We showed a friendly face out there in the last few days but there is always resentment of the uniform I wear and Roman rule in general among the tribes. Some hold my Cherusci blood suitable to be spilt on their sacrificial alters. I thought about it carefully and decided I would be best served by auxiliaries whose blood might also be deemed equally worthy of boiling in their fires or splashing on their sacrificial stones. The men I have chosen as my personal escort are all loyal to Rome of course, but such an incentive of common blood just might motivate them to fight that little bit harder and help cut us out of an ambush.’
There were nodding heads around the General. Having men in a fight, that you could trust your back too, made sense to the professional soldiers who sat around the general’s table.
Prefect Marcos scowled then reluctantly accepted the answer and nodded as well.
General Varus smiled towards the Prefect.
‘Thank you for clearing up that point for us Prefect.’ Turning his attention back to Arminius he asked.
‘Where will you go next?’
Arminius appeared to consider the question for a moment.
‘Well Sir, I thought it wise to suggest sending the merchants into Cherusci territory in the next few days with a limited escort from one of my other squadrons, while I plan my next patrol deep into the Angrivarii and Bructeri homelands. They both border the Cherusci and are probably friendlier to Rome than the other tribes are. I want to create an expanding network for trade Sir. Word will naturally spread throughout Germania of the prosperity and advantages involved, and I’m hoping that will make my job easier with the others as the months go by.’
There was a look of satisfaction on the old general’s face. He had the right man for the job, there was no question about it.
‘Good! Well done Arminius. Plan your next patrol and bring back more good news. Dismissed!’
Arminius saluted and left the briefing room.
Outside, Rolf was waiting.
‘Well, how did it go in there?’ He asked once they were out of earshot and walking back towards the squadron stables.
Arminius smiled. ‘They swallowed every word. I convinced Varus and the other fools that all was well and that trade in our homeland could start in days. My father suggested it thrive for now at least, to allay suspicion by the Romans that anything is even slightly amiss. He has already sent runners to the Angrivarii and Bructeri requesting a meeting with their leaders on neutral ground in the deep forest between our lands.’
‘When?’ asked his cousin.
‘We meet them in three nights when the moon is full.’ Arminius was silent for a few moments, and then he said. ‘We have perhaps eight thousand men who will take up arms if my father orders it, but between them the Angrivarii and Bructeri can field perhaps another fifteen thousand.
Rolf’s face darkened at the numbers.
‘But that will only give us equal numbers against three Legions cousin. Since the Romans came, training for war has been strictly forbidden on pain of death, except for the auxiliaries of course and very few of our people out there still possess proper weapons.’
Arminius nodded. ‘Yes, you are right of course. To meet the Romans in open battle with equal numbers would mean certain annihilation. Even with proper weapons, with just three tribes we couldn’t hope to be victorious.’ He shook his head. ‘We couldn’t possibly match them, even with the Angrivarii and Bructeri’s help.
Rolf’s face betrayed his confusion.
‘Then how are we to prevail?’
Arminius’s eyes flashed for a moment. ‘I have given great thought to just that question Rolf, and I think, with the help of the Gods I have discovered a way...’
* * * * *
‘Why us, that’s what I want to know?’ Grumbled one of the Legionaries as the Century marched towards the distant hills.
‘Because its orders stupid’ snapped Optio Praxus, who was hurrying past towards the carts at the front of the rear-guard. ‘And the General heard you were handy with a shovel.’
The legionary remained silent until Praxus was gone.
‘Bollocks to that!’ He snapped when it was safe. ‘My back’s killing me and we’ve been lumbered with two weeks of guard duty and digging bloody road foundations. I thought that’s what our engineers are for?’
His friend marching beside him laughed. ‘No, we’re the muscle when it comes to building, you know that Sextus. Join the Legion and see the world.... If you can’t take a joke mate, you shouldn’t have joined.’
Sextus spat. ‘I’m getting blisters on my feet already, and for the next fourteen days I’m going to have them all over my hands digging bloody great holes...I should have listened to mother and taken that job in the bakery when I had the chance. I bloody hate the army!’
His mate sniffed. ‘Yeah mate, same as the rest of us.’
* * * * *
In front of the rear-guard, three wagons pulled by oxen rumbled forward, loaded down with shovels, picks and all the other engineering implements necessary for road construction. The drovers cracked whips above their docile animals, encouraging them to keep pulling the wagons forward. An Engineer Centurion sat beside the drover in the lead wagon. Walking beside him was Centurion Rufus.
‘So we start work from the next ford then?’
The engineering officer nodded.
‘Yes, the ground needs improving from there on. My lads have already surveyed and marked out the route with posts driven into the ground. While your men dig and gather rocks for the foundations, my lads will be surveying the next section. We keep leapfrogging until we reach the river. We’ll stop there, and then get cracking building the bridge.’
Rufus nodded. ‘Fair enough.’
He looked back towards the rear-guard and said. ‘My lads were getting lazy with nothing to do. I had them training hard every day but they needed a change of scenery and some fresh air, so I volunteered them for this little duty.’
The engineer chuckled. ‘Did you tell them you put them up for it?’
Rufus grinned, his eyes wide with mock horror.
‘Not likely. I have enough trouble with them as it is. You know what they say...Never volunteer.’
A veteran of many campaigns across the Empire the engineer laughed. Winking at Rufus, he whispered.‘Absolutely!’
Optio Praxus doubled up beside his Centurion.
‘Rear-guard closed up Sir. No injuries or stragglers and no sign of any trouble behind.’
Rufus nodded. ‘Thanks Praxus. How are the men doing?’
The Optio grinned. ‘Oh, grumbling about everything Sir, same as always.’
* * * * *
By the flickering light of the oil lamps arranged about the room, in the eerie semi-darkness, Varus licked his tongue over his lips expectantly. He lent forward in anticipation, eager to hear what the future held for him. The answers were hidden in the riddle of the black stones. The omens had been good lately and he was delighted with his master plan for Germania; it was already starting to bear green shoots. His entourage of civilian merchants reported the beginnings of good trade with the barbarians. Bartering cheap pottery and trinkets for valuable pelts and furs had made them very pleased
with their bargains, and eager to quietly pay Varus his own percentage. The barbarians had wanted iron to forge more farming tools but for now they must make do with the merchandise that was offered in trade. Varus had no doubt that the faceless Imperial spies within his camp would report back favourably to Augustus in Rome that all in the north was well under his steady hand.
His special envoy Arminius had departed that very morning on the next phase of his mission to expand the trading network, and now that Arminius had secured his barbarian father’s agreement, building work was due to begin on the first proper road through the province.
At last he thought, after coming out of retirement and two years of hard work it seemed finally worthwhile to have journeyed to this awful place, peopled by wild savages that even the Gods shunned.
‘What do you see Ignatius, what do the stones tell you?’
Varus watched intently as the haruspex stared down and cast his hands magically over the fallen runes. He threw powder into a burning brazier which erupted into a cloud of foul smelling smoke. The soothsayer’s coal black skin glistened in the flickering light. His eyes rolled back into his head as he intoned something in a strange tongue that Varus had never understood. The Nubian groaned and shuddered as if making contact with the spirits; they whispered to him from the Underworld and helped him understand the scattered black stones beneath his shaking hands.
Ignatius knew the faith his master put in his predictions. It gave him the comfortable life of a slave without beatings or manual labour. The law of averages said that he must sometimes get a prediction right. If things went wrong, he’d shrug and explain it away as advice from a demon who had tricked him.
It paid to put on a particularly good show of dark spirits and unexplained mystery occasionally, when his master least expected it.
Suddenly, Ignatius froze. Gasping he cried out.
