by David Black
Rufus stared at Severus for several seconds. The pathetic figure’s nod confirmed his guilt. Seeing the gesture Rufus scratched his head.
‘Frankly, I don’t know what I can do to help you Severus. Under military law you have the right to have an officer speak for you when the time comes at your tribunal.’ Rufus shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know your story, but I can certainly give you a character reference as your commanding officer if you wish it.’
Severus looked up sharply and nodded eagerly. ‘Yes sir, please.’
He sighed deeply. ‘I’m sorry to involve you in any of this sir. I don’t want to get you into any trouble because of me.’
Rufus snorted. ‘Bit late to worry about that now lad. If I’m going to be any use to you at all, you’d better tell me everything from the beginning; from the time when you first ran away from your master’s house.’
Severus stared at his Centurion. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, and then in a halting voice began to tell his tale.
‘I was born into slavery sir. My mother and father were both slaves; the property of the House of Crastus. I grew up on the estate you see. Old man Crastus owns a huge vineyard estate just south of Rome. He also owns over a hundred slaves who mostly work in the fields tending thousands of his bloody vines. As soon as I was old enough, that was my job. Every day, we’d all work from first light until sunset taking care of those damned plants and picking the grapes when they were ready. The estate’s overseers were real bastards. They’d use the whip on us for even the slightest thing and they stole the food out of our mouths whenever they got the chance and sold it. Some of the others worked in the winery where they trod grapes and made the wine, and there was a few who work in the family’s villa as house slaves.’
Rufus nodded. He supposed that’s how it usually worked among the rich. Having spent so many years serving the Eagle in one theatre or another, he’d had very little contact with any slaves or slavery in general for that matter.
‘I fell in love with one of the house girls’ sir. I...I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened after I was ordered from the fields and given the job labouring on building a new roof on one of the villa’s outhouses. The girl, Anna was her name sir, used to sometimes bring us water. We snatched conversation whenever the overseers weren’t looking and were...well, just kind to each other.’ he shrugged...’ and we just fell in love.’
Rufus had been a soldier all his adult life, there had been no time or opportunity for love. To him, this was unknown territory. He simply nodded and said.
‘Get on with your story soldier.’
With a heavy heart and eyes downcast, Severus continued.
‘My master was a widower. He took his enjoyment as he pleased with the house girls’ sir. He kept only the prettiest close to him in the villa. The old bastard had forced himself on Anna plenty of times. It wasn’t her fault, she had no choice, she belonged to him. She hated his touch, the beatings he gave her for his own pleasure...and the things he made her do.’
With a pleading look in his eyes he added.
‘Trapped like she was sir, Anna told me she was close to ending her torment by taking her own life. I couldn’t bear to see her in so much pain so between us, we decided to run. We were going to start a new life together far away, free from slavery.’
Rufus nodded again. ‘So what happened?’
Severus sighed. ‘I remembered one of the old men who worked with me in the fields had once said he had heard of a man who lived to the north. He reckoned the man was skilled with a blade and could remove our brands. We wouldn’t stand a chance if they remained. The runaway catchers would hunt us down and take us back if we still wore the Crastus brand. When I asked him to tell me where this man was and how we could contact him, the old man knew instantly we were planning to run and said he’d only tell us if he and his son could escape with us.’
Rufus said. ‘So you took them with you?’
Severus shrugged miserably.
‘What else could I do sir? We cut off our collars and broke out one night after Anna had stolen two silver goblets from the villa. They looked pretty valuable and we planned to sell them, or at least trade them for the removal of our brands.’ Severus stared down at his scarred forearm. Dark memories rampaged back as he continued. ‘We tried to run all night to get as far away as possible, but the old man kept stopping. He was just too old and tired to keep up so we hid all the next day and decided to only travel by night. Trouble was, there were patrols everywhere and the old man slowed us up so much, we didn’t get far enough.’ Severus sighed at the memory of those terror filled days and nights. ‘We were sleeping in a disused farmhouse when the slave catchers came. I think the old man must have fallen asleep on his watch so there was no warning. It was chaos when they burst in... I was dead lucky; I was round the back taking a leak when they came for us. We all got separated in the confusion.’ He sighed and shrugged miserably again. ‘Somehow I managed to get away.’
A tear rolled down his cheek. ‘That was the last I ever saw of Anna and the others. I hid for a while in a culvert and returned to the ruin after dark. I searched and searched all night but there was no sign of any of them.’
Rufus stared at Severus. He had been moved by the man’s pitiful story. As a citizen of Rome and a free man, Rufus was only now beginning to understand Severus’s story, and the life of misery which he and the others must have endured.
‘Right, so you were on your own. How did you end up serving with the 18th?’
Severus wiped his face. His chains clanked together as he moved.
‘I still had the goblets, and by then knew how to contact the man who would cut and burn out my brand. I stayed on the run and it took a while, but eventually I did find him. It was bloody painful, but once he’d done his work, I needed somewhere to hide, somewhere far from Rome. I had no money and nothing left to trade so I wandered the countryside for weeks until the pain stopped and the wound healed, stealing food where I could find it. Once it was safe to mix with people again, the town I ended up in looking for work had a recruiting stall in the marketplace. At the time, half starved as I was it seemed a good way of disappearing... so I joined up.’ He shrugged desolately. ‘And here I am. That’s why my old master’s son, Tribune Crastus recognised me.’
Rufus felt the legionary’s depression. It was his turn to sigh. ‘It’s just bloody bad luck all round son.’
Severus looked appealingly at his Centurion.
‘What will happen to me sir? Do you think there’s any chance?’
The Centurion shook his head slowly. This poor little bastard was one of his men, one he owed the debt of his life. Rufus knew he could walk away now and leave Severus to his fate, but within the core of Rufus’s own code of honour, loyalty was a door which swung both ways. He expected loyalty from his soldiers, but returned it in equal measure wherever he could. To Centurion Rufus, abandoning Severus in his darkest hour was unthinkable.
‘I honestly don’t know lad. I’ve already spoken to the Prefect on your behalf. He’s an old soldier and a good man, but he rightly said this has now become an official army matter and things must take their course I’m afraid.’
Severus hung his head again and stared at his chains. Like his Centurion, he knew the only penalty for runaways hiding in a Legion.
‘For now I’ll have to go away and think about it some more, and talk to some of the older Centurions. Maybe one of them might know something that will help. I’ll go and see the Prefect again. If I ask him, he’ll advise me on the letter of military law in these circumstances, and then at least I’ll know what to expect, and the correct legal procedures when we get back to our winter quarters.’
Severus nodded. These were some words of comfort and hope, but in his heart Rufus knew Severus was doomed.
Before he turned and left the cellblock Rufus stopped in the doorway and called over his shoulder.
‘I’ll see if I can do something about some better food
for you while I’m at it son. The Provost in charge here is an old mate of mine and owes me a favour or two.
* * * * *
Arminius stood before General Varus and finished making his report.
‘The tribal leaders are worried and afraid sir. Many have suffered attacks and without sufficient weapons they fear for their people’s survival in the coming winter. They have all asked for you to permit them to re-arm themselves against the Ampsivarii.’
Varus frowned. Things were becoming more complicated with every new report he received. The Ampsivarii had crossed the frontier in some strength, and were roaming free across his pacified territory attacking, burning and looting at will. To make matters worse, the barbarians had not limited their attacks solely to the tribes. A road building replacement detail had discovered an entire Century butchered, and a supply column had been raided one night on its way towards his current headquarters.
The punitive raid he had launched into Ampsivarii territory had been unsuccessful. Some tribesmen and their families had been caught and executed, and salt had been ploughed into a few fields to render them useless for growing, but no settlement of any size had been discovered, and the main body of Ampsivarii warriors had not been detected or engaged in battle.
Varus looked at the tall officer standing before him. It was Arminius’s turn to frown. A worried look would display his lack of real appreciation of the situation in the General’s eyes, and his inability to suggest a solution. The trap was baited, but would the old fool he wondered nervously, fall into it?
Varus rapped his fist on the table before him.
‘No! Under no circumstances can I permit the tribes to re-arm themselves. It is asking for trouble, you understand? If they don’t turn on each other, they might turn on us when we march back in the spring.’ Varus rubbed his temples to ease the headache which was building. Exhaling loudly, with a shake of his head he said reluctantly. ‘To my mind, there is only one solution to hold the province together during the coming winter.’
‘But what can we do Sir?’ Arminius’ concern sounded grave and genuine.
‘It’s simple. We will have to establish a new chain of protective forts beside the largest settlements of the interior. We are duty bound to protect those under our dominion, or the Pax Romana will lose all meaning and credibility. We will garrison the forts with our men throughout the winter. Their mission will be to protect the pacified tribes.’
Arminius beamed as if the scales had just fallen from his eyes.
‘Of course!’ He pounded his fist into his other open hand with feigned excitement. ‘Sir, that’s a brilliant solution... In a single stroke you demonstrate your concern for the tribes’ wellbeing, and keep subtle but total control without giving them as much as a single sword. Your solution will be easy to administer and arrange, and the trading network will be protected and kept safe until next spring, when we return in force. The Pax Romana is fulfilled and the Emperor will be delighted.’
Pleased with his insight and flattered by his prodigy’s praise, it was the General’s turn to smile.
‘Yes, you have it my boy. I will begin issuing orders and making the necessary arrangements today. We must send word to all the chieftains immediately that we will ensure their safety.’
Arminius nodded enthusiastically. ‘Perhaps you could even hold a banquet here in their honour Sir, before the Legions march back to the Rhine. It will help cement Rome’s friendship with its subjects in Germania, and allay any remaining doubts in their minds.’
Varus thought for a moment as he considered the suggestion. He nodded.
‘Yes, that will be the perfect opportunity to display our friendship and generosity, and remind them of the benefits and the reality of being under the protection of Rome.’
Arminius stared at his feet for a moment. Almost embarrassed he said.
‘With your permission sir, I would be honoured if I may be allowed to spread word of Rome’s new protection and the banquet. May I serve you again as your personal messenger?’
The old general beamed.
‘Why of course Arminius. I can think of no man better suited to the task.’
Varus smiled knowingly. He had heard rumours that Arminius had lost his heart to some wild young girl he had rescued from the clutches of her murderous chieftain father in the Ampsivarii homelands. Clearly, Varus thought smugly to himself, the young Decurion nobleman was looking for any excuse to ride out and see her again.
This at least was no lie. Arminius had deliberately lodged Thusnelda far from Roman hands in the safely of his own father’s household. It was certainly true that he was keen to see her again, but more importantly Arminius wanted one last council of war with all the allied tribal chiefs, to finalise his plans with them before the Romans broke camp and marched westwards for the winter.
‘When shall we hold the banquet Sir?’
Varus pondered for a moment.
‘Now let me see...We are due to march for the Rhine in two weeks...Let’s make it..
Hmm? You will need time to ride out and contact the chieftains.... We’ll hold the feast the very night before we leave.’
The audience was over. Varus turned and picked up a scroll. He looked up as he began to unroll it.
‘Send in Prefect Dalious on your way out Arminius. I have a meeting to call and detailed arrangements on the new troop movements to make.’ Looking down at the scroll again he said. ‘Thank you, you are dismissed.’
Arminius saluted. His face betrayed no emotion, but beneath his armoured chest his heart pounded. The feeble minded old fool had fallen for it, hook line and sinker. Soon enough, Arminius thought to himself, Varus would learn he had been duped, but by then he would be surrounded and trapped.
A smile played across Arminius’s face as he strode from the Headquarters in search of Rolf. The fate of the three mighty Legions around him had been sealed forever. Soon he thought smugly, they would all die....
Chapter 21
‘A banquet you say?
Arminius’s father Segimer looked up from the grinding stone he had been using to sharpen his sword. He ran his thumb along one razor sharp edge. Nodding silently with satisfaction he thought for a moment before he said.
‘Why has he invited us? Has Varus discovered the rebellion and plans to take us captive at the feast?’
Arminius grinned slyly and shook his head. ‘No father. I don’t believe that for a moment. Varus trusts me completely. There has not been a single rumour whispered in his ear about what is about to happen to them all.’
Segimer sniffed. Beneath his mop of long grey hair the Cherusci king licked his lips and smiled. ‘We know how to keep our secrets my son.’ His face clouded with concern. ‘I know the risks you take every day while you remain with the Romans, and so do our people.’
Arminius shrugged. ‘What else can I do? If I leave suddenly, the Romans will become suspicious. Trust me father; that is their nature. They live in a world where plots and lies are a part of everyday life. Rome is always awash with rumour and intrigue. The Praetorian Guard who protect Augustus will arrest and imprison a conspirator and his entire family on the slightest suspicion of disloyalty to the Emperor. The Mamertine Prison is full of them.’
Segimer nodded grimly. ‘I hope you are right my son and Varus remains unaware.’
Arminius smiled reassuringly. ‘We must be bold and accept his invitation Father. I have sent messengers to the other chieftains. They will gather here together in two days time. We will call them to a council and then travel to the feast together.’
Segimer nodded and stood up. He sheathed his sword and walked to the doorway. Casting aside the curtain of leather hide he stared out across the crowded settlement. It was alive with his people. Tents had sprung up everywhere. Smoke from their many cooking fires drifted slowly skywards. Every day more and more arrived from outlying Cherusci settlements. It had started with hundreds but soon they would be counted in thousands.
Arminius’s fathe
r smiled to himself. His people had been subdued by Rome’s iron will since Drusus had inflicted heavy defeat upon them, and a terrible price had been paid by the tribe, but the invaders had never come even close to taming their wild German hearts. For the first time in many years, his men walked with pride and confidence, and carried their weapons openly. Their swagger foretold that the time for vengeance was close and the prospect was clearly relished by all who had answered Segimer’s call to arms.
Every trail leading to the Cherusci capital was being watched closely to avoid even the slightest chance of discovery, as the tribe made their final preparations for all-out war. Furnaces glowed cherry red as hastily erected forges rang to the sounds of heavy as new axe and arrowheads were hammered into shape. Old shields were being repaired and sharpened wooden spear points hardened in the fires by those too poor to own iron weapons. Strong young men, sons of his warrior caste elite who had been just boys when the Romans slew their fathers, came now, wearing shirts of chainmail and hefting heavy swords. They too thirsted bitterly for revenge against the men who had come from far away.
As preparations for the rebellion gained momentum, the burning lust for Roman blood filled every warrior high born or low. Poorer men isolated from larger communities had also suffered tragedy at the hands of their oppressors over the years. Many had seen their women raped or their children go hungry when the tax gatherers had finished with them. Too many of them carried the painful scars of much loved little ones who had died of starvation when the previous years’ snows had come, as the Romans feasted far away on food stolen from even the lowliest among them.
Arminius joined his father, who had stepped outside. Together, filled with hope, they proudly watched their people in silence for a moment. Segimer was first to noticed Rolf striding towards them through the throng. Beside him, Thusnelda walked quickly. She wore a shy enigmatic smile on her face. The Cherusci king grinned to himself. He remembered the same smile from long ago on his own woman’s lips when they had first become one. The girl’s radiance was meant for just one man, who stood tall beside him. Segimer wondered quietly to himself if perhaps it had something to do with the knowing whisper he had received from one of his grinning bodyguard, after his son was seen disappearing into Thusnelda’s hut the previous night during the darkest hours of the wolf. Segimer acknowledged his nephew and the girl as they approached. As he nodded his welcome to the approaching couple he whispered to his grinning son.
