Eagles of the Damned

by David Black

  General Varus issued his orders for the following day. The three Legion’s survivors would leave the safety of the marching camp once again in total silence two hours before daybreak. The seriously wounded were to be left behind. There was every possibility that the entire column would reach open ground beyond the forest as dawn broke. If Arminius arrived with the Cherusci in time, there was every chance that a glorious victory could still be snatched from the jaws of ignominious defeat before the sun set on the following day.

  After the staff officers left the command tent and went off about their duties General Varus sat alone in his tent. Tomorrow he thought would be the day when he might salvage the name of Varus. When the omens had been so good, how had so many reversals come about he wondered morosely? Based on past experience, he had done everything right. He was suddenly shaken from his reflections when Dalious re-entered the tent and interrupted his train of thought. Without ceremony his adjutant announced.

  ‘Decurion Vala and his men are formed up by the west gate and ready to leave General. They await your order.’

  Varus remained seated. Head in hands and too tired to move, softly he said.

  ‘Thank you Dalious. The order is given.’ He lifted his head wearily and looked up. With a slight wave of his hand he said.

  ‘Send them on their way, will you?’

  Dalious saluted, turned and strode from the command tent. When he reached the west gate he signalled to Vala.

  ‘You are ordered to proceed immediately with your mission Decurion. May the Gods bring you good fortune.’

  Decurion Vala nodded. Grim faced he signalled his twenty men to follow in file and tapping his heels on his horse’s flanks trotted through the open gate into the darkness which lay beyond.

  Chapter 34

  Rufus and his men had been walking all night. Still deep in the primordial forest, they had seen neither hide nor hair of the enemy. There had been one moment of pure terror when they had disturbed a colony of sleeping rooks. The roosting birds had risen in alarm into the dark sky above crowing loudly to each other. Under Rufus’ whispered order, with hearts pounding his men had found the strength to pick up the pace and get clear of the disturbed area as quickly as possible before the sound of the birds brought discovery.

  In the spill of the light from their burning torches, they slithered, climbed, tripped and cursed throughout the dark hours during their unrelenting flight through the forest. Without food or sleep and utterly exhausted they walked on holding aloft their spluttering torches as if they were living through some terrifying nightmare from which they could not wake.

  Rufus had abandoned his initial plan to re-join the column during the night. To even try to find it in the obsidian darkness could only bring them to disaster. Even with their barbarian clothing they would stand no chance if they blundered into the enemy massing somewhere ahead for a dawn attack. He had managed to get his men this far without discovery so he ignored his original plan and kept pushing his men west. Sooner or later they must find their way to the end of the forest. If they found high ground he reasoned, they should be able to see the column somewhere ahead.

  During the dark hours long after midnight the air had warmed slightly, well before the first rays of dawn’s light showed through the trees on the eastern horizon. Behind them mist had begun to form in the low ground and hollows. It quickly became thicker, floating through the sleeping forest, sending swirling tendrils of white silently between the tall trees. It surrounded and enveloped Rufus and his men as the first light of dawn began to lighten their surroundings. Calling a short break, Rufus turned to Severus.

  ‘This fog will help us. It should offer good cover until we reach the end of the forest.’

  Severus nodded. Their luck had held so far, but would it last?

  As planned, General Varus, accompanied by his staff officers led the survivors from the marching camp before dawn. To raise morale, he had ensured that the word was passed down the line that the end was now firmly in sight. His spirits had lightened. Vala’s cavalry should be well on their way by now, and relief should be with them in just a few days. There was still no sign of the patrol looking for Arminius, but Varus still convinced himself that he would arrive soon.

  The vanguard of the column was formed from the 17th Legion. A half century was marching just two hundred paces in front of Varus and his officers. Using torches, they led the way through the thinning forest. After well over an hour of good progress without incident, they suddenly halted. Varus noticed the block of light ahead had stopped moving. Hearing no sound of battle he called a halt and sent a galloper forward to investigate.

  The mounted aide returned quickly.

  ‘Sir...it’s the cavalry...’

  Varus didn’t wait for an explanation. Followed by his aides he spurred his horse forward until he reached the ring of light from the vanguard’s burning torches. As he slowed, he noticed the damp ground before him was rent and churned with the deep rutted marks of many hoof prints. A dead horse lay to one side of the track. Fearing the worst Varus dismounted and hurried into the light to the centurion commanding the vanguard.

  ‘Well Centurion, why have you stopped?’

  In the flickering light of the men’s torches, the general could see a lingering look of shock and horror on the man’s dirt streaked face. The centurion shook his head. Silently he lifted his torch up towards the surrounding trees.

  Varus gasped with horror. Nailed to the trees above them, with arms stretched wide were the bodies of Decurion Vala’s men. Every one of them had died in agony, eviscerated by the rebels as they hung from the trees. Entrails hung down from the open bellies of the dead men, glistening red and blue in the flickering torchlight. Blood still dripped in dark puddles beneath each crucified body. In the silent forest, one of Varus’s aides’ suddenly looked away and vomited noisily onto the churned ground beneath him.

  His face reflecting the horror, Varus tore his eyes from the ghastly sight of his mutilated cavalrymen and stared at the centurion again.

  ‘Where is the Decurion’s body?’ He demanded.

  The vanguard commander pointed further up the track.

  ‘He’s there sir, at the base of the tree.’

  Varus kicked his horse forward. At the very edge of the vanguard’s light, Roman Decurion Numonias Vala hung from a massive tree trunk, nailed in the same fashion as his men. He hadn’t been gutted like the others; instead, his throat had been cut, sliced deeply from ear to ear.

  Splattered with the Decurion’s blood, the vital scroll which Varus had entrusted to him dangled unrolled. Someone must have read it, and then tied it firmly around the gash of the dead officer’s neck.

  But something else caught the General’s eye.

  Resting against Vala’s limp body, secured at the bottom of the scroll something small glittered in the torchlight. Curious, Varus climbed down from his horse and approached the body. He reached out and grasped the object. Snapping it away from the thin strip of hide which held it in place, Varus opened his fist and held it up to the torchlight. It was a ring which could only belong to a Roman citizen and member of the noble Equestrian Order. It certainly didn’t belong to the dead Decurion and obviously hadn’t been overlooked as a trophy of war.

  Suddenly painful realisation dawned as recognition came to him, as he stood surrounded by the dark Teutoburg.

  The ring was a silent messenger, taunting the commander of the mauled Legions. Varus had seen the ring and its wearer many times before...His heart sank as he accepted the truth. There was only one man under his command who wore such a ring. It belonged to Arminius!

  The General staggered back, overpowered with sudden shock. His chest heaved as blood pounded and roared in his ears. Varus shook his head in the semi-darkness as he tried to comprehend the magnitude of what he had discovered. Frantic, his mind churned in turmoil as he tried to make sense of it all.

  So it was true. Segestes had been telling the truth after all. It had to be Armi
nius who was leading the Germanic tribes so expertly against him. After all, had he not been trained in the art of war by Rome? Varus thrust his palm against his forehead. How could he have been so grossly and completely deceived, he wondered? Why in Jupiter’s name had a man he had treated as a son turned against him so? He stared into the black forest around him but found no answers in the night. As a dark cloud of growing acceptance enveloped him, Varus reluctantly admitted to himself that he had been completely fooled; unknowingly he had nurtured a poisonous viper filled with the deadliest of venom at the very heart of his Legions. He knew it was his responsibility. The Emperor would hold him absolutely accountable.

  Shoulders slumped, his anguish mixed with a deep sense of betrayal, he turned back towards the horses. Misery eddied through his mind as Varus walked back to the waiting vanguard commander. He knew that ultimately, he would have to pay for his mistakes.

  The awful truth made two other facts painfully clear. The treacherous Cherusci weren’t coming to his aid, and glancing back at Vala’s body for a moment, neither he thought sadly was the two reserve Legions stationed on the Rhine.

  His adjutant stood beside the vanguard centurion.

  Dalious watched the General walk towards him. Even in the semi-darkness he could see by the General’s gait that something was very wrong. The general walked with shoulders slumped, like a broken man. When Varus was just a few paces from him Dalious said.

  ‘What is it sir, what have you found?’

  Varus passed the Prefect the ring. Despair filled his voice. He said quietly.

  ‘We have our traitor Dalious. We have been betrayed...’

  Varus climbed wearily into his saddle. With a sigh he looked down and said softly to the centurion.

  ‘Cut these bodies down and conceal them in the forest.’

  The General’s sad eyes glittered in the torchlight. ‘I will not bring the column forward through the darkness until you signal it is done. I don’t want the men to see this, they are frightened enough and their courage hangs by a thread. Is that clear centurion?’

  Grim faced, his vanguard commander nodded.

  ‘Yes Sir. Perfectly clear.’

  Chapter 35

  As the head of the column broke out of the forest, the first light of dawn lit their way. Exhausted men cheered and wept when they felt the sun’s warmth on their faces for the first time in days. Some knelt down and kissed the earth in their unbridled joy at having survived the terrors which still lurked behind them.

  The route they must take if they were to join the main supply route would force them to turn right and head north along the slope of a wide flat valley. Before them lay several miles of low-lying scrubland dotted with trees which rose sharply to their right along the very edge of the Teutoburg. Once the column was fully out of the forest, the land behind would be closed to them. It was nothing more than a broad expanse of flooded marshland. To their left a ridgeline rose up sharply and ran parallel with their projected route beneath a dense mat of covering trees.

  Prefect Dalious turned with concern to his General who rode morosely beside him. He had hoped Varus would recover from the shock of finding out that Arminius was a traitor, but looking at him, it didn’t appear to be so. The last few days and in particular last night’s events had clearly shaken the old man to his very core.

  An uncomfortable silence had existed between the two men for the last hour. Varus had muttered softly to himself as they rode through the darkness, but had not uttered a single word to anyone around him since they left the cavalry ambush site. His eyes remained downcast and he showed no acknowledgement or emotion of any kind as they finally rode clear of the forest into the glow of the early morning’s watery sunlight.

  Dalious could feel the turmoil and doubt which raged through the General’s mind. He wished with all his heart he could just leave the old man to his despair but the Prefect had more important matters concerning him. He urgently needed to know the general’s plan to advance up the valley. The barbarians could launch their first attacks of the day at any moment, and the men must be deployed into defensive battle formations if the surviving legionaries were to stand any chance in the fighting Dalious knew was sure to come soon. Was a strong rear-guard to be left behind to slow the rebels who were certainly following even now not far behind them in the forest? How were they to protect their flanks and should he order scouts to be sent on ahead to spy out the land? Reluctantly clearing his throat Dalious broke the silence.

  ‘General Varus Sir. What are your orders of the day....?’

  Almost dreamily Varus lifted his head and replied.

  ‘Orders, what orders?’

  Worried by the reply, Dalious stared at his General for a moment.

  ‘Yes General. What are your orders for the men’s formation? I must know your plan to move them up the valley sir.’

  Varus inclined his head slightly to one side as he stared at the ragtag line of desperately fatigued legionaries staggering almost drunkenly from the dark forest. The general’s gaze drifted to the horizon. Staring into the distance, suddenly he nodded to himself and announced.

  ‘I wish to speak in private with my adjutant.’

  Catching Dalious’s eye Varus nodded towards a patch of scrub close by which was clear of both officers and men. When Varus and his adjutant were out of earshot the General brought his horse to a stop and waited until Dalious was beside him. With a sigh Varus said.

  ‘I didn’t want this commission you know. I was content and happily retired to my villa outside Rome when the Emperor’s dispatch reached me... It’s funny really. Augustus didn’t order me; he simply requested that I took command and became his General in the north.’

  Varus looked at his Prefect. Dalious had the distinct impression that the old man was looking straight through him, as if he wasn’t there at all. The general’s tone worried the Prefect; it had the distinct ring of a man who had lost everything.

  ‘But how do you say no to the absolute ruler of such a vast Empire?’

  Varus smiled a sad smile as he looked about him.

  ‘I’m ruined I’m afraid. Our situation is hopeless you see? If I were to survive this debacle and return to Rome there would be no forgiveness for me from the Emperor.’ With a deep sigh he added. ‘Alas, my entire family are also finished if I let things remain as they are.’

  The Prefect’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. His mouth was suddenly dry. What was Varus suggesting? Dalious had a nasty feeling that he knew. Locking eyes with the General he shook his head.

  ‘No Sir, you can’t mean? Not now, we need you!’

  With the sad smile still playing on his lips, resigned to his fate Varus shrugged and shook his head slowly.

  ‘It’s the only way I can save my personal honour, and the lives of my family. It is time to die like a noble born Roman officer...I have no other choice Dalious my old friend. Like my father before me who took his own life after his defeat at Philippi I must atone for my mistakes and die by my own hand.’

  Straightening slightly Varus continued.

  ‘Such an act will be accepted in Rome. If there were another way, believe me I’d take it but alas, there isn’t. No...I must fall on my sword to wipe out the stain of such a defeat as this....It is the only way to protect the name of Varus.’

  The Prefect recoiled in shock. He would have argued and protested more but knew in his heart that the tired old man before him was speaking the truth. His command had been decimated and if he returned to Rome without either his Legion’s or their Eagles the immeasurable disgrace would rock the Empire and shake it to its very foundations. Varus might even have to face execution for such abject failure. A noble born Senator and Patrician publicly strangled before the baying mob of Rome. It was...unthinkable.

  With a resigned sign Dalious nodded his understanding.

  ‘Is there nothing I can say that might dissuade you Sir?’

  His rheumy eyes searching the horizon Varus shook his head.

&nb
sp; ‘No Dalious, it is what I must do, and do quickly before my resolve crumbles to dust.’

  Nodding sadly Dalious enquired.

  ‘Where shall you do it Sir?’

  Varus pointed to a small stand of trees nearby. Dalious noticed that somewhere in the conversation the colour had drained from his general’s strained face.

  ‘There. I shall do it quietly over there. My servant will assist me. Please ensure my body is burned afterwards, and my ashes are buried. I don’t want my grave desecrated by those Godless barbarians.’

  Varus smiled suddenly as a thought occurred to him.

  ‘It is a great shame I won’t live to see the look on that dog Arminius’s face when he learns that I have cheated him from the pleasure of torturing me to death.’

  Dalious saluted. He knew there was nothing more he could say that could change what had to be. His face grim the Prefect nodded.

  ‘I shall see that your instructions are carried out General. It’s...it’s been an honour Sir.’

  Varus lifted his hand from his saddle’s pommel in acknowledgement.

  ‘Thank you my friend. You are to take command. Keep pushing the men towards the main supply route; it is all you can do; it is your last hope.’

  Varus turned his horse towards the trees. He said quietly over his shoulder.

  ‘Farewell my friend, I will see you again in the afterlife.’

  With those last words, General Varus kicked his heels against his horse’s flanks and calling to his servant cantered over to the lonely copse to die like a Roman and save his family honour.

  * * * * *

  Like the others, Rufus was exhausted by the journey through the mist shrouded forest. They were dragging themselves towards the top of yet another densely wooded ridgeline. There had been so many in the last few miles. He hoped it was the last.

  Rufus had felt the energy sapping effects of utter exhaustion before in his career. It had been bad years before when he was just another young legionary marching behind his Eagle during mile after mile of gruelling forced marches across the arid wastes of the Syrian Desert, but this was way beyond that.