by David Black
Varus had decided that the presence of his soldiers guarding the settlements where his new trading markets were being established would reinforce the authority of Rome and deter rogue bands from attacking and sacking unguarded settlements for plunder.
Rolf had wanted to know how the mighty Romans could be defeated by a loose alliance of many tribes. Arminius hadn’t answered at the time because his plan wasn’t fully formed in his mind, but now, in the darkness which surrounded him, it was beginning to come together.
Hit and run was the key. The wild tribes of Germania were masters of bursting from the dense cover of the forests to ambush their enemies. Arminius had questioned his father closely on the near success of his own war against the invaders years before. He had listened very carefully and learnt much from the old man’s council. His tactics were now clear to him. Despite the awesome fighting power of the Legions, his conversation with his father and his own knowledge of Roman formations had highlighted a glaring weakness, where the Roman’s huge numbers could be turned against them.
When they moved back towards the other side of the Rhine in early September, he would trap them in close and heavily forested country. The Romans wouldn’t be able to communicate with each other or deploy. Victory, he was certain would be his.
For now, what Arminius needed was a non-pacified tribe who would harass the Romans and put them on their guard. If there was a clear danger to the stability of his Germanic province, Varus wouldn’t dare leave it alone and unguarded. He would have no choice but to leave strong garrisons behind when the winter’s snows came to protect greater Germania.
Satisfied with the evolution of his plans, Arminius rolled over and pulled the course blankets over his shoulders.
In the morning he would begin planning another patrol to the farthest reaches of the province, on the very northernmost border of the Empire. He must somehow go beyond the edge of the known world and make contact with the distant Ampsivarii, and their highly volatile and dangerous leader, Segestes.
How far he had come, he thought sleepily, from that night so long ago when he had lain brooding in the darkness after the death of his kinsman in the arena.
Soon now, he thought as sleep overcame him, the moment would be at hand when Attila and the lost Cherusci people would be avenged.
* * * * *
‘Column Halt!’
Surrounded by early morning mist, close to the broad Alara River, Arminius walked his horse forward and called up to the sentry standing in one of the two towers guarding the small frontier fort’s gate.
‘I am Senior Decurion Arminius, commander of the 18th Legion’s auxiliary cavalry. I am here on the orders of General Varus. Where is your Centurion?’
Still surprised at the end of his long night vigil by the sudden appearance of thirty armoured horsemen through the clinging mist, the legionary called down.
‘He’s probably still in his bed asleep Sir.’
Irritated, Arminius shouted back at the sentry.
‘Well send someone to wake him up, damn you.’
Startled, the sentry stammered ‘Yes...yes Sir!’
There was a muffled conversation behind the palisade. Arminius heard iron shod sandals rapidly descending the steps on the inside of the tower. As they waited, Arminius sniffed the cold damp air. He looked around him at the native huts erected outside the fort which appeared and disappeared in the swirling mist then said.
‘Things seem a little relaxed here. Perhaps it will work in our favour before we make our return?’
Suddenly, the gate swung open and a bleary eyed and portly soldier, dressed in a creased tunic and sandals stepped outside. He stared sleepily at the line of horsemen, and then turned his attention to the two officers sitting on their mounts at the front of the column.
As commander of a Legion’s cavalry, Arminius outranked the Centurion. Seeming confused by the detachment’s sudden appearance the Centurion said.
‘I’m sorry you didn’t receive a better welcome Sir; I had no warning of your arrival.’
Arminius stared at the Centurion for a moment. Coldly he said.
‘Just get the damned gate open Centurion. We have ridden all night and my men are tired and need warmth and food.’
The Centurion nodded and snapped at one of his guards.
‘You heard the Decurion. Get the gate open and see the squadron to the stables.’
* * * * *
Arminius and Rolf sat in the Centurion’s office gratefully warming themselves by the glowing brazier which threw welcome heat into the small room. Like their men, they had been provided with a simple breakfast of bread and water. Both men ate in silence.
Sitting behind his desk, the Centurion noticed the Equestrian Order’s ring on the stern faced Decurion’s finger. It was a mark of nobility and made him feel even more confused and uncomfortable. Both his guests wore their hair long in the usual auxiliary style, and had conversed freely in the barbarian’s tongue. And yet the Decurion was of a noble Roman caste? He decided to try and break the icy atmosphere which he felt, despite the warmth of the brazier.
‘What are the General’s orders concerning my missing men Sir?’
Arminius pursed his lips.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I am not here about missing legionaries; I came to gather information Centurion, and to further project Rome’s influence on the outer rim. I also have orders from General Varus to reconnoitre the area. He is disappointed with your progress and instructed me to encourage more trade with the Ampsivarii.’
The Centurion’s eyes widened with shock.
‘The Ampsivarii, Sir?’ The Centurion held up his hands as if to ward off the very idea. ‘But...but they’re untamed savages.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Headquarters doesn’t understand what it’s like up here or the difficulties I face on the frontier. I have followed orders and tried to make better contact with them several times but my last messenger’s head was left spiked on a stick outside the gates two weeks ago. I’ve no idea what happened to the three men I sent as his escort?’
‘You made no attempt to find out?’ Arminius snapped.
‘No sir, I couldn’t. Without reinforcements I simply don’t have the manpower to enter Ampsivarii territory and launch a punitive mission to rescue them. I thought that’s why you had come. I have only half a century to guard the fortress and protect the trading settlement outside. My other men are spread out, stationed in two smaller forts which control the only other roads into Ampsivarii territory.’ The portly Centurion wrung his hand with growing anguish. It wasn’t fair; he hadn’t asked to be sent here, none of this was his fault but he was sure he would be blamed.
‘I did make a full report on the incident to headquarters, but haven’t received a reply, or any fresh orders.’
Arminius nodded and sighed impatiently.
‘Very well Centurion.’ Arminius drummed his finger on the desk between them as he thought. He fixed the Roman with a cold stare and said.
‘I’ll let headquarters deal with your lack of action over your missing men in their own good time... But now, I need information. How do you suggest I contact the Ampsivarii’s leader, Segestes?’
The Centurion shook his head.
‘I’m not sure anymore Sir. Like most of the barbarians in this province, the Ampsivarii like to take the heads of their victims. They believe that the power of the dead is transferred into the warrior who killed them...or some such nonsense. I think they only relinquished their trophy and left my Optio’s head outside the gate as a warning of what would happen to anyone else who dared enter their land. As for their leader Segestes, well Sir, it’s said that he’s mad at the best of times, others whisper he’s just plain evil.’
Arminius raised an eyebrow. ‘How so, Centurion?’
The Centurion shuddered. ‘There’s an animal Sir.’
Arminius sniffed. ‘Go on.’
‘He feeds prisoners to the bear he keeps in a pit, or at least that’s the late
st rumour to come out of the village. Apparently he believes it inhabited by his god.’
Arminius had heard this story before. He held up his hand and nodded. ‘All right, thank you Centurion.’
He turned to Rolf, who had been listening wide-eyed.
‘I could take the entire squadron into their territory, but without a guide I’d never find him. We’d probably be ambushed before we even got close.’ He turned back to the Centurion. ‘Do any of your men know exactly where his village is?’
The Centurion shook his head. No Sir, I’m afraid not. I’ve tried going in blind already.’ He sighed. ‘And you know what happened.’
‘What about the locals who live here, some must be Ampsivarii?’
‘Yes Sir, there are Ampsivarii living in the settlement but they’re here to trade, not be friendly with us. I tried to question them for information but even the whip got nothing from them except stubborn silence.’
Arminius stared at his cousin again. ‘Perhaps a more subtle approach is called for Rolf. We might have more luck.’ He gripped his tunic between his fingers. ‘Without the fanfare of being caught, wearing Roman uniforms.’
CHAPTER 13
They had been riding for almost an hour. The mist hung white and clinging around them as Arminius and Rolf followed the winding track into Ampsivarii territory. It was cold, very cold. The sort of cold which seeps into a man’s body and chills his very soul.
The sound of the horses’ hooves was deadened in the swirling stillness of the atmosphere which pressed heavily down on them both. The dense canopy of trees overhead made the path seem as though they were riding through a dark and unending tunnel, ever deeper into the dank and dripping forest.
Both riders cast their heads left and right as they strained to see or hear movement. There were no distant animal cries or birdsong. Neither man detected anything but eerie silence beyond the tightly packed trees which grew up to the very edge of the track. The ground mist constantly swirled as its tendrils enveloped them in its chilling embrace.
Rolf pulled his plaid Cherusci cloak tighter around his shoulders to ward off the creeping cold. His eyes constantly scanned the mist as he watched for any sign of life. His voice was a whisper.
‘I don’t like this. We ride in a land of evil Herman; it is the place where the darkest spirits dwell.’ He looked anxiously over his shoulder. ‘We will never find anything like this. Perhaps we should return to the fort?’
Arminius smiled reassuringly at his nervous cousin.
‘You are right of course Rolf. We will never find them. I am relying on them finding us....’
Suddenly, there was movement all around them. Like silent phantoms, heavily armed warriors seemed to rise up from the very ground around them. Noiselessly, they appeared from the mist on both sides of the track, their drawn bows pointing at the two riders. Startled, Rolf‘s hand reached for his sword.
‘No!’ hissed Arminius urgently. ‘Keep you blade where it is.’
Arminius raised his hands slowly towards the nearest Ampsivarii.
‘I am Herman, son of Segimer, king of the Cherusci. I seek urgent council with your great leader Segestes.’
The warrior’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. After a moment of indecision he reluctantly waved most of his ambush party back to their hiding places in the mist. As they lowered their bows and disappeared as quietly as they had arrived he turned his attention back to the two waiting riders. With the point of his spear he motioned them forward, adding a flick of his head in the direction of the track ahead.
Sullen faced he growled. ‘Surrender your weapons to my men Cherusci, then follow me. No tricks...or you die!’
* * * * *
Standing on the raised council platform Segestes glared down in silence at Arminius and Rolf, as the warrior who had been both guard and guide whispered into his ear. Spiked on poles behind him, two heads stared blindly across the wooden platform, their eyes gouged from their heads. The cheeks of one was torn and the other looked badly crushed
The Ampsivarii’s leader nodded as he listened to the guide. Beside him an old man dressed in animal skins also listened intently to what the guide was saying. The old man was wizened, his ancient skin looked grey, like stretched parchment. He wore a fur headdress adorned with the white skull of a wolf on his head. On his leather belt hung the small bones of forest animals. Staring balefully at the two Cherusci he hissed something into Segestes’ other ear then, with a claw like hand he angrily waved a bone rattle at the two men sitting silently on their horses. The Ampsivarii king laughed and slapped his thigh. He turned to Arminius and Rolf. With a knowing grin he said.
‘You wear the swords of the invaders. My soothsayer says you are Roman spies and he wants to spill your blood on our sacred stones.’
Segestes’ dark eyes bored into the two men.
‘Vorlec is wise to the ways of outsiders and there is more than a ring of truth in his council...So tell me Cherusci spies, why have you travelled so far... and what do you want here?’
Arminius answered quickly.
‘Brave and noble Segestes, it is well known among the tribes of your warrior’s fierceness in battle. We come here respectfully to ask for your help with a very serious and urgent matter. I wish to discuss a thing of great importance which will enrich both you and your people.’
Arminius bowed his head respectfully. This was a dangerous moment. Appealing to the Ampsivarii leader’s vanity would only take him so far. Segestes was well known among the other tribes spread across Germania as a treacherous opportunist. As yet untroubled by Rome, his involvement would not be offered for a high and noble reason like freedom from tyranny; he would be swayed only by the booty of rich pickings, if he did ultimately agree to give his support to the rebellion.
‘With your permission we seek an audience with you in private, away from the prying eyes and ears of lesser men....’
Intrigued, Segestes thought for a moment then slyly nodded.
‘I will listen to your words Herman, son of Segimer, but I warn you, if Vorlec smells out even a single lie.’ With a savage grin he turned and pointed towards the heads behind him. ‘Our angry Gods will be appeased with the sacrifice of your miserable lives.’
Surrounded by his bodyguard and closely attended by Vorlec, Segestes sat in the gloomy smoke filled interior of a small council chamber in silence.
‘So Herman, son of Segimer, now I sit among trusted friends. Explain to me why you are here, and why I should spare your lives.’
Arminius explained his plan to destroy the Romans. He had quickly decided that truth was his only hope of surviving this meeting. To be caught with a lie or half-truth on his lips would invite the same fate as the Romans who had died at his order. Taking fate in his hands Arminius told Segestes of being taken hostage as a child and explained in detail the cruel oppression of his own people by the Romans. There was fire in his eyes when he spoke of his own burning hatred of Rome.
When Arminius finally finished speaking Segestes looked towards his soothsayer. Vorlec and the chieftain whispered to each other before Segestes spoke.
‘For now, your lives will be spared. I will seek a full council before I decide to join your attack upon the Romans.’ He waved his hand towards the council chamber’s entrance. ‘For now, you will enjoy my hospitality until I have decided.’
The Ampsivarii’s leader clapped his hands. A young woman stepped from the shadows and respectfully bowed before him. Tall and slim, she was barefoot, wearing a long threadbare dress of plain brown material. Her long blond hair was woven into pigtails, drawn together into a tight bun. Arminius started momentarily. He thought her quite beautiful. As he stared, he couldn’t help but notice the girl’s face looked tense and frightened. Her beauty was marred by her bottom lip which was cut and swollen; one side of her face was discoloured by a large purple bruise; there were dark circles under her green eyes.
With a dismissive flick of his hand Segestes waved the two Cherusci from his prese
nce.
‘Take our guests away and see to it that they are given food.’ He growled. ‘And remember your place.’
The girl cringed slightly. She bowed again and silently motioned the two men to follow her.
As they turned away, Segestes looked towards the leader of his bodyguard. He inclined his head towards the disappearing backs of Arminius and Rolf. The bearded warrior nodded his understanding. Accompanied by three of his men the bodyguard leader quickly turned and followed the others as they stepped into the bright sunlight outside.
Followed closely by the guards, under the curious gaze of huddled Ampsivarii women and children, the girl led Arminius and his cousin through a warren of huts to a small wicker lean-to on the edge of the settlement. Throwing back the hanging hide which served as a door she beckoned them inside. She entered behind them and stooping down, picked up two wooden bowls which lay in a dim corner. As the girl wiped out the bowls, Arminius took in his surroundings. It was a far cry from the clean mosaic floors and brightly tiled walls of civilised Roman society. The interior was sparsely furnished with just a wooden cot filled with a thick bed of dry bracken set on a compacted mud floor. A thin blanket lay crumpled at one end of the crude bed. Wiping the bowls again on her dirty apron, she placed them on the ground beside a small cooking fire in the middle of the shabby room. Suspended just above the glowing embers was an iron cauldron half-filled with grey bubbling liquid. She scooped some into each bowl with a wooden ladle and handed one to each man.
Arminius nodded his thanks and lifting the bowl to his lips, sipped at the steaming broth. It tasted of rancid animal fat and little else. He caught a look from his cousin, who appeared to be trying to suppress a shudder of disgust. Arminius lowered the bowl and spoke to the girl.
