by David Black
‘REVENGE....!’
Chapter 28
The day had turned to dusk. It was almost dark when Rufus and what was left of his century first saw the beacon of torches glittering around the Legion’s marching camp. Many of his men who could still walk were helping the limping and sorely wounded. Some had hurriedly bound their injuries with torn strips of cloth to stem the blood which stained their ragged clothes. The carrying yokes were gone, dropped hours ago far behind them and abandoned deep in the forest. The men were utterly exhausted.
Rufus had led them from the ambush after a desperate fight to save their skins. The barbarians had made a mistake as they first charged down the slope from the trees. Eager for their share of booty, the small group of warriors blocking the century’s advance had joined the fight too early. Rufus saw the gap open. It was his one opportunity to save his command and he took it instantly. He formed his men into a fighting wedge and smashed his way out of the trap. There had been a running battle afterwards where many of his men had been picked off one by one by their pursuers. It was only in the last hour that there had been any relief for Rufus and his men, when the warriors had finally given up after losing interest in chasing them any further.
The century’s mule had taken an arrow in the shoulder and fallen. Trapped by his bonds, Severus had screamed for help. One of his friends who remained loyal had slashed the tether as he ran past. Heart pounding, Severus had managed to remove the loosened rope from his wrists and snatch up the sword of a fallen legionnaire, as he ran for his life with the rest of them.
Bone weary, Centurion Rufus led his men through the heavily guarded gate and entered the marching camp. Wounded men lay groaning on the cold damp ground as far as he could see in the gloom and the nearest torch’s limited spill of light. His mind almost numb with exhaustion Rufus turned to call out an order to his Optio, but remembered sadly that Praxus was dead, killed by a barbarian arrow through his eye. There was no time to mourn the loss now, that would come later, if he survived the night, Rufus thought ruefully. He turned to the struggling line of exhausted legionaries behind him.
‘Help the wounded to the Medicus lads. Keep your eyes open when you go to our lines and see if you can find some food. Get your weapons clean and sleep as soon as you possibly can. I’ll join you when I’ve made my report.’
Not one of his men had the energy to reply. With a nod from a few almost asleep on their feet they disappeared wearily into the darkness.
Severus was the only man to remain in the shadows. He was as drained and exhausted as the others. Unsure what to do next, he mumbled.
‘Err, what about me sir? Where shall I go?’
Rufus shrugged. Severus was still under open arrest but what to do with him given the day’s events? One thing was for certain Rufus thought; eyeing the inky darkness around the stockade’s wall and the savage horrors which lurked beyond it, he was certain Severus wouldn’t try to escape. After a moment he replied wearily.
‘Buggered if I know son. It’s probably best to go and join the rest of the lads for now, while I go and find out what’s been going on today.’
As Severus turned to go, Rufus said with one tired eyebrow raised.
‘As you are still a prisoner, I think you’d better lose the sword, don’t you?’
The mood was sombre at the senior officer’s staff meeting. Reports had been collected and causalities counted. The news was not good.
‘Eight cohorts gone?’ General Varus’s voice was incredulous.
His adjutant nodded.
‘I’m afraid so General. All three Legions have sustained heavy attacks all day. I have had reports that the enemy were assembled in huge numbers. The cohorts that survived have been dismembered and in some cases lost over half their men; others were completely wiped out... or are still missing.’
Prefect Dalious fell silent. He looked down at his feet and shuffled uncomfortably.
The assembled officers stared at Dalious until General Varus enquired.
‘Is there something else on your mind Dalious?’
The Prefect looked up. Licking dry lips, reluctantly he said.
‘I’m afraid so Sir. Lucius Plinius and the first cohort of the 19th are among the missing.’
The General’s eyes widened with shock and anguish.
‘The Eagle?’
With a deep sigh Dalious shook his head.
‘We’ve no idea where it is Sir. The last men in before dark reported seeing a heavy concentration of our dead a few miles back, but the bodies had been stripped and we’ve no way of knowing if it was the 19th’s 1st cohort...but I believe it might well have been.’
Varus swallowed. If an Eagle had been lost the shame could ruin him politically in Rome. His face remained impassive but his mind was suddenly thrown into turmoil. Defensibly, he replied
‘Or on the other hand it might not have been... Lucius Plinius is a resourceful officer and may well have found somewhere safe to ride out the night.’
The disgrace of losing an Eagle under his command would tarnish the General’s good name forever. Even his close family ties with the Emperor wouldn’t save him from falling from Imperial grace, if he didn’t quickly find a way to lift the curse. There was confidence in his voice, although inside he didn’t feel it. Hopefully Varus continued.
‘He could turn up at any time without warning. There are still units arriving are there not?’
Dalious nodded silently. He hoped his General was right about the fate of the 19th’s Eagle, but his old soldier instincts filled him with the gravest doubt.
Varus had made his decision. It would buy him time as he searched for a way to save his honour. His eyes narrowed as he stared into the faces of the surrounding officers
‘No... We mustn’t damage the men’s morale. I want them simply posted as missing for now...Is that clear?’
The officers nodded. Like Dalious, they silently harboured doubts on the Eagle’s fate, but the men’s morale was vitally important and there was no need to do it harm with supposition or by dealing on unconfirmed rumour. Varus said.
‘Take heart gentlemen. Remember that although we have lost men today, Arminius will arrive soon with thousands of loyal Cherusci to help us.’
General Varus swept several half full cups from the table beside him and unrolled the same hide map he had used to brief his officers before they left the summer camp.
Resting both hands on the map, Varus looked up.
‘Now gentlemen, I have some hard decisions to make. My appreciation of the situation so far is that the rebels have got wind of our plan and launched spoiling attacks against us with the view of delaying us bringing them to battle.’
One of the senior centurions looked up from the map and enquired.
‘To what end, sir? Why should they do that?’
Varus smiled.
‘I came across the same tactic in Syria. The rebels there tried to delay my Legions to cover their own withdrawal, but I fought through their ambushes, caught up with their main army and annihilated it when I took Jerusalem.’
The 1st centurion and staff offices around him nodded. The general’s victories in Palestine when he governed there were legend. Varus stared into their drawn faces in silence. He needed another victory quickly. He was sure it would be enough to overcome the shame of the 19th’s loss of their Eagle. Perhaps, it might show Rome what a truly tough fight it had been and conceivably even reinforce his own military genius to those who counted in Rome. Varus continued.
‘As I see it, we are faced with three choices gentlemen. Our first choice is to stay where we are, reinforce our defences and send for reinforcements. I am discounting that option. If we stay here, by the time our messengers return with men from the two Legions stationed at the Rhine forts, winter will be upon us, we will have run out of food and the enemy will have melted away.’
One of the Prefects interrupted.
‘But sir, we have so many wounded...Surely we must stay here and wait.�
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Varus held up his hand.
‘Yes, thank you Aquilinius, I have read the casualty reports. I will come to the issue of the wounded shortly.’
Clearing his throat, Varus continued.
‘Our second option is to try and outflank the barbarians. I have discounted this plan as well. We are unaware of the enemy’s’ dispositions, and the local terrain will not lend itself to a set piece battle. We simply couldn’t blunder about and try to hunt them all down in this close country, and then put them to the sword.’
Varus tapped the outstretched map with his hand.
‘We must use the terrain to our advantage gentlemen. Speed is the key here. It is my intention to leave this camp with the Legions before daybreak tomorrow in total silence, to avoid alerting the enemy and push on to the other side of the forest. As you are aware, the ground is flat and open on the other side. We will draw the barbarians out of the forest... and then we will crush them.’
Prefect Aquilinius nodded like the others. It seemed a good plan but how could they maintain the necessary speed to accomplish Varus’s strategy? He caught the General’s eye.
‘But how can we move quickly enough, and at the same time keep the baggage train and all the wounded protected sir?’
Varus looked down at the map for a moment, and then his head suddenly snapped up.
‘Being a General is a heavy burden sometimes Prefect Aquilinius. I carry the responsibility of representing the Emperor, my Legions and all of Rome for that matter, while out here on campaign. My ultimate duty is to give victories, whatever the cost.’
The Prefect shook his head.
‘I’m sorry sir; I don’t think I fully understand your point.’
Varus sighed. This was the only way to save his honour and family name. He must cast aside all other considerations; he must fight the coming battle and win. Feigning a heavy heart he said softly.
‘To accomplish success and strike quickly I have been forced to make the hard decisions I mentioned earlier...Therefore I have decided we must burn the baggage train, and I’m afraid there is no other choice...we must abandon our wounded.’
There were sharp intakes of breath and muttering all around him. Looks of disbelief surrounded Varus. Like the other officers assembled around their General, Aquilinius was aghast. The General’s order was breaking a fundamental principle which within the fighting Legions, was cast in stone. The wounded were never left behind.
Ashen faced, his voice incredulous, Aquilinius stammered.
‘But...but this is simply unthinkable sir. The barbarians will show them no mercy. Our wounded will be slaughtered...And what of the civilians who follow us. There are hundreds of women and children among them. Are they to be abandoned as well?’
To extricate himself from potential disaster, Varus needed time to manoeuvre. He was confident that the barbarians would waste valuable hours raping the civilian women and pillaging the remains of the supply carts. He also expected to gain even more precious time while the barbarians engaged themselves in torturing and slowly killing his wounded.
Their eyes betrayed them. There was suddenly a palpable feeling of mutiny in the air among the senior officers standing before him; the General could almost taste it. He knew he must act quickly to crush the growing dissent. Suddenly Varus hammered his fist onto the table. The room hushed instantly after the ringing blow. The anger in the General’s voice betrayed his seething fury at having his future threatened and his decisions questioned by a mere Legion Prefect. Varus snarled.
‘I am in command here! Your duty is to obey my orders without question. If you cannot, I will find someone else who will!’
Glaring, Varus searched the faces of each of his officers as the blunt threat hung in the air. Through gritted teeth he hissed at them.
‘Do I make myself perfectly clear...gentlemen?’
Chapter 29
Although the mood was strained and sombre in the Roman headquarters, several miles away it was verging on the riotous in the rebel’s hidden encampment.
Tribesmen swaggered about by the light of roaring fires, proudly displaying their newly captured swords and javelins. Men laughed and spoke in loud voices of their fighting abilities and the prowess they had shown when killing the enemy. Many staggering unsteadily between the blazing fires; drunk on wine looted from an abandoned Roman wagon. Some swung heavy blades and axes through the empty air, re-enacting fights to the death they had become embroiled in during moments of the fiercest fighting of the day. There were auxiliaries mixed into the throng who loudly joined in the celebrations with their brothers.
Nearby was one of the many sacred groves which peppered the forest. Inside, within rings of consecrated stones the priestesses spoke to the Gods, and made offerings of blood to the spirits of the dark forest. The High Priestess had demanded sacrifice to appease the angry spirits. Soon, she was promised, prisoners would be brought; they would have their fill.
Still wearing his uniform and armour Arminius warmed himself against the chill night air, sitting beside a fire at the edge of the encampment. He bit into a charred hunk of venison one of his men had passed him. Beside him, Rolf sat inspecting a minor gash on his forearm, taken from a Roman gladius during their fierce attack on the Eagle. Rolf wasn’t annoyed by the wound and wore it proudly; he had killed the legionnaire who had given it to him, and afterwards sought out his body and taken his head.
Behind the two men, with dried blood staining its staff, stood the Eagle. The base of the staff had been rammed into the damp earth and at the other end the Eagle glittered brightly, reflecting the light thrown out by the numerous fires of the victorious tribesmen. Arminius had sent word that he had taken it to all who still doubted the rebellion. He challenged each of them to view it, if they had the courage. He was sure that would bring them all to see his treasured prize.
Rolf bound a cloth around his arm. He looked up at the laughing cavorting throng of men before him.
‘The men are drunk Herman. Will we try and put an end to it?’
Arminius chewed on a piece of gristle, and then spat it into the fire. As it began to smoke and sizzle in the glowing embers he looked at his cousin. With a smile he said.
‘No Rolf, let them have their fun. It is our way after battle to celebrate victory and the wine they fill their bellies with is captured booty.... Have you ever tried to snatch a bone from a hungry dog?’
Rolf continued to stare at the celebrations as he nodded with a grin. With a shrug he yawned and lay down in front of the fire, pulling his heavy cavalry blanket over him.
Before he closed his eyes in search of sleep, yawning again he asked.
‘We fight again tomorrow cousin?’
Arminius nodded, staring intently into the flickering fire. The answer was in the flames.
‘Yes Rolf, we will kill many more once the sun has risen.’
* * * * *
Arminius was soundly asleep when he was roughly shaken from his slumbers by one of his own auxiliaries. Dawn’s first glow was lighting the horizon. The auxiliary crouched down beside him. There was alarm in the man’s voice
‘Herman, wake up. There is much smoke coming from the Roman’s camp. They are burning their wagons.’
Still confused by sleep, Arminius opened his eyes. He sat up as Rolf began to stir on the other side of the smoking embers of their fire.
Rubbing his eyes Arminius asked.
‘What do you mean...what smoke?’
‘The men you ordered to watch the Roman camp have come back and roused everyone. The Romans slipped away in the night and their supply wagons are left behind and burning. Our men want to go to the camp and take what they can...’
The grave news fully woke Arminius with a start. He jumped to his feet. Angrily he said to the auxiliary.
‘No! We must not waste time looting, that must wait.’
Rolf was also awake now, disturbed by the hurried conversation beside him. Sleepily he said.
‘What is i
t cousin, what’s happening?’
Arminius looked down at him and said.
‘The Romans try to flee Rolf. I should have seen this coming...We must go after them quickly before they find their way out of the trap.’
Rolf threw his damp blanket aside and stood up as Arminius continued.
‘I must stop our men or the rebellion is in danger. Quickly now, gather our nobles and bring them here to me.’
* * * * *
At the hastily called council, tempers were frayed among the crowd of incensed and hung-over Cherusci nobles. News that they were to be denied valuable booty had soured the previous evening’s elation.
‘But Herman, it is our right to take what we win in battle.’
Another growled angrily.
‘Aye, Ulrich’s right. How else are we to enrich ourselves?’
Someone at the back called out.
‘If we don’t take our spoils now, the other tribes will take them.’
There was a general growl of agreement from the Cherusci chieftains.
Arminius held up both hands in supplication.
‘No, you must listen to me. This is exactly want the Romans want. By leaving their scraps behind they want us to squabble like dogs over their leavings. While we plunder their supplies...they will use the time to escape.’
Sour faces around him told Arminius the nobles disagreed.
One of the oldest nobles, a close friend of Arminius’s father stepped forward and spoke.
‘Then let us leave men to put out the fires and guard our spoils Herman.’ He turned to the others. Sternly he addressed them. ‘If we are to rid our lands of the Romans, we still have much fighting and killing to do. Like you all, I know my men will fight harder if they are assured of getting a fair share of the spoils when the fighting is done.’
There was silence for a moment while the other nobles considered the compromise. War brought valuable booty which could be traded for other things, but he was right. If they didn’t slaughter all the Romans, they would be back in the spring and take a terrible revenge. Grudgingly, heads began to nod; despite their sore heads, the nobles could see the wisdom of it.
