by Mark Tiro
“Hell, Varus doesn't know his ass from his dick,” Quintus added.
We laughed. But Segestes remained serious. “I’m afraid he’ll take the best legions in the world, blindfold them and then slit their throats. They'll be as helpless as that beast they sacrificed for the auguries today.”
Just then, a Praetorian came out of the command tent and beckoned to Quintus.
“I’ll try to talk to Varus about this,” Quintus said. “He is still a Roman general. I just can’t believe that he’s so stupid that he’d chase off into a German winter like a rabbit into snow.”
“Maybe he’s not stupid,” I said, shaking at the idea that had just occurred to me. “Maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“Are you saying Varus is planning on destroying his own legions? That he’s in together with Arminius? Treason? To what possible ends?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right Quintus,” I said. “That’s just too crazy to even consider. I think. Still, even if Varus is just incompetent, and not really a full-on traitor, well… Arminius is still a treacherous snake. He’s no different than Hannibal—how many of our own cities did he get to defect to his side, after Cannae? If he hadn’t settled in to winter his troops in Capua, we might all be speaking Punic now.”
“Arminius is no Hannibal,” Segestes interjected curtly.
“No, no. Of course not. But think—Varus is no Scipio either,” I said. Then I turned to Quintus. “Please, just do whatever you can to convince Varus to keep the legions put here in camp. Anyway, talk is, the Emperor’s going to send Tiberius up in just a month or two, to assume command here over the winter.”
“That’s part of the problem, I think. Varus doesn’t want to share his glory with Tiberius. Once the Emperor’s nephew’s here to take command, Varus believes, everyone will forget all about him.”
“Well, it’s true. And couldn’t be a moment too soon.”
“Still, I’ll try to stop him from riding out tomorrow. And if I can’t I’ll at least try to convince him he should keep two of the legions here in reserve.”
Quintus turned, to head towards Varus’ tent. He stopped to add, “If I had anything to say about it, I’d have that bastard Arminius sewn up into a sack with vipers and dogs and tossed into whatever bloody river these barbarians here use as a stand in for the Tiber. Treason against Rome, it’s no different really than killing your own father.” Then he left. I watched from the distance as he saluted the Praetorian guard, who in kind, opened the flap to Varus’ command tent. Quintus walked forward. He ducked in, and disappeared into the tent. And then he was gone.
“Arminius isn’t the problem,” I told Segestes, once Quintus had left. “Not really, Varus is. See, there will always be people like Arminius planning and scheming, just like they always have. We bring order, love of the gods, roads, trade. Hell, we even put a Forum in every city we build. And we bring peace. Mostly peace. But there are always these malcontents trying to tear it all down, to go back to living half clothed, completely uncivilized, and under the brush, just like those Gauls before Caesar came along.”
“I completely agree,” Segestes said. “It’s like you’re preaching to the Greek chorus here.”
Two minutes later, Quintus stormed out, this time not bothering to return the Praetorian’s salute. When we had walked out of earshot of the tent, without breaking stride or turning in my direction, Quintus said, “It’s even worse than we thought. Varus tells me Arminius is riding out now, to meet up with his countrymen to arrange for them to ‘guide’ our legions through to the other side of the forest. I told him again that the only place Arminius means to ‘guide’ our legions is into hell. Sure, that might’ve been overkill a bit. But I told Varus that it’s really just not a good idea to put our legions under control of these barbarians, even if they are just there to help guide us. It’s easy enough to march a legion into a mess; it’s another thing completely getting it out of one. And you know what Varus said?”
“What?”
“The only thing that bastard Varus could bring himself to say about Arminius is that the barbarian was like a brother to him. Like a little brother to him….”
“So there’s nothing to be done?” I asked. “He’s just going to march out of here with all our legions into whatever?”
“‘My decision’s final,’ he tells me. ‘I’m breaking camp first thing tomorrow with these legions one way or another. We’re going through the forest to meet up with Arminius, and his countrymen and auxiliary units. From there we’ll go together and put down this uprising. We should be back and headed to winter camp by the end of the week.’”
“That’s what Varus said?” I asked.
“That’s what he said. Can you believe it?”
“So that’s it then,” I said. “It’s done. There’s nothing to be done about it?”
“Well Varus did throw us one bone. He did tell me—and kind of in an offhand way, but still—that if we can ride out and meet up with Arminius tonight, before he heads off, that we should ask him to wait until tomorrow, so he can march out together with Varus’ units. But he didn’t really seem to care much either way.”
“Still, that would help, wouldn’t it?” I asked. “At least that way, Arminius wouldn’t be able to go off half a day’s march before we even break camp.”
“Let’s try then! Let’s ride out now, we’ll go try to catch up with Arminius,” Quintus said. “Let’s talk to Arminius, see what we can do. Maybe we can convince him to not leave until tomorrow.”
“It would keep Arminius from being off alone in those damn woods, planning whatever cabal with those barbarian countrymen of his. It’s sure worth a try,” I said. “I’ll go find us some horses.”
6
Six
Not more than ten minutes from camp, we came across Arminius and what seemed like two cohorts of mixed German auxiliary, with cavalry that his own Cherusci had put at Varus’ disposal. Now they all waited here, in a little clearing just out of sight of our scouts.
“Should we announce ourselves?” Quintus asked me as we rode up.
“I don’t think we have much choice. The two of us aren't going to overpower anyone with superior force,” I said dryly.
“Or our stealth,” he added as a few of Arminius’ officers looked over at us, disinterested, before going back to ignoring us and carrying on their conversations. “Just keep your eye out for an opening. I’ll try to convince him that Varus needs him to come back to camp. If that doesn’t work, we’ll need to be ready to do whatever it takes to keep him from riding off.”
Just then, Arminius himself appeared from the shadows behind a group of officers. He was sitting on his steed. The officers around him were ignoring us completely, talking to each other in that barbaric tongue of theirs, too engrossed to take any notice of us. Arminius himself did though. He rode over to us straight away. And he rode alone, with nothing but a bemused, half cocked smile on his face. He swept his gaze over us, first to me, then to Quintus. He had the look of a man without a care in the world, as if he were coming over to pet the camp mascot after it wandered out.
“Hello there,” he announced casually, dispensing with the more formal greetings one would normally expect from an auxiliary commander to Roman officers. “Where are the other auxiliary units Varus was supposed to send me?” he asked.
I looked over at my brother. He had a puzzled look on his face. I had practiced enough in the law courts to perfect the ability to look like ice so as not to betray my thoughts, at least long enough to give me time to read a situation. And so I did just that, hoping that Arminius hadn’t noticed the confused look on Quintus’ face.
“Varus sent us,” I said loudly, trying to draw Arminius’ attention to me, away from Quintus. “You’re waiting on some more auxiliary units?” I said, trying to steady my voice somewhere between a question and a statement. “I see you already have a few here with you.”
“Not as many as Varus has promised. Now, when should
I expect them along? We mean to get moving tonight, as soon as they arrive.”
“Listen Arminius,” I said as slowly as I thought I could get away with. I was steadying my voice now, and also giving myself time to think of some way to delay him. “Listen Arminius, Varus sent us out here to check on your status. He’s asking that you hold your position here for the night. To wait for him until the morning when he’ll break camp with the legions and join with you to march both your units out together.”
“So I should not be expecting any further auxiliary units to come tonight?” Arminius said. He wasn’t biting on my ploy to delay him.
He glanced over his shoulder, towards a group of three of his officers who happened to be nearest him just then. They were all sitting on their mounts, but none were looking in his direction. Then he looked back nervously, first at Quintus, then at me. “Varus knows the route through the forest, because I’ve given him the route through the forest. If I am not to be expecting a further reinforcement of auxiliaries tonight, then I believe we shall be breaking camp here very shortly. You can tell Varus I am sorry I missed him, but that I shall meet up with him once he’s through to the other side of the pass. Just as planned.”
As he said these words, Arminius looked around again, this time more urgently. He was alone with us, some twenty yards at least from where the closest group of his officers were. Clearly Quintus and I posed a threat to him, isolated so far from his officers and men. I don’t know just how deeply he understood this yet.
I also think that if I had decisively drawn my sword at that moment, I still would have had enough of the advantage of surprise that I could have run him through with it before he could have reacted.
But I didn’t. I thought about raising my sword. I knew that’s what I needed to do, to kill him. And I knew I needed to do it then. But I didn’t. I just… didn’t.
My head shouted at me to do it. But I still didn’t.
Instead, I hesitated.
I analyzed.
And then… that was it.
As I had analyzed, Arminius had realized.
“We’ll make camp there,” he said. “Beyond the pass.” He was slowly backing his steed away now. But his eyes remained intently locked on me, no doubt scanning my face for any hint of a threat.
I posed none. Sadly.
But Arminius still felt vulnerable enough that he didn’t want to make too quick of a move. And so he continued to talk.
“Meet up on the other side of the pass,” he said slowly, still stalling, just as I had. “That’s where my men will have the provisions we’ve promised Varus. It will all be waiting there for him.”
The army is traveling with its own provisions, I thought. It doesn’t need any from you. Logistics was, after all, the reason I’d been ordered up here in the first place. Then I noticed just the slightest twitch on his face, the briefest flicker of fear in his eye. It betrayed the calm confidence he had projected up until that point.
I suspect Arminius had a sudden realization that not only Quintus and I, but also Varus himself, might have been on to him.
And if Varus was onto him, Arminius was finished.
Varus, of course, was not on to him. Not by a long shot. But Arminius didn’t realize this as yet. And because he didn’t realize this, he was frightened.
And frightened people can be vicious.
But he had backed his horse off enough now that I no longer would’ve had any chance of felling him in one swift blow. There was just too much distance to cross.
The moment—the opportunity—had passed.
Life rushed back into Arminius’ face. He had bolted upright, sitting straight and tall on his steed now.
Then he broke into a great, broad smile.
And he laughed at me.
“That, dear Roman, is not the plan,” he said, in a clear, loud voice.
“I think I will be going now,” Arminius said. His men were now clearly aware of the interlopers in their midst. They rallied decisively towards their leader. A few of the officers nearest us unsheathed their weapons.
Quintus saw this too, and he pulled out his sword.
It was too late though.
A spear flew past my horse. She must have been grazed, because she instinctively jumped forward and off to the left. After a few tries I managed to pull her back around. When I did, all I could do is watch helplessly from the point where she had stopped. I looked up, and watched in horror.
Quintus held his sword up, still but ready. His horse wheeled around. When it did, my eyes lit upon something I will never forget.
My brother’s severed head bobbed, first forward then back. It came to rest at some point without fully falling to the ground. His throat had been severed, but not completely. The smallest, little flap of skin remained attached. And it was this flap of skin that the barbarian’s sword had failed to touch which now kept my brother’s lifeless head attached to his lifeless body. It bobbed up and down, listing forward and back periodically. Finally, mercifully, it fell to the ground. And then, so did he.
The rest was a blur. My horse took off. Through the chaos I heard orders, shouted in haste. It was probably Arminius, but I didn’t know for sure. I turned my head just in time to hear one last wild eep from those damn barbarians as they slipped away, into the forest and into that dark Teutoburg night.
7
Seven
When I came to again, I was still lying at the bottom of the earthen-walled ramparts that separated us from the barbarians who held the high ground beyond. They were in no rush. We were bottled up here, and they knew it. Even when we could inflict some damage, which was not inconsiderable, more of them would just appear from somewhere in the woods to replace those we had killed. Caelius himself had led a detachment that had managed to break their line (if you could call it that). His maneuver had succeeded in clearing a stretch that seemed a quarter as long as our staging grounds back on the Campus Martius had been. But like I said, that wasn’t the problem. It was that new ones never stopped coming forward, no matter how many of them we killed.
As I lay there looking up, a flock of birds flew over, heading South. These weren’t the hawks and vultures and ravens that typically hang out in the sky over a battlefield, waiting for easy prey. These were gulls. Seagulls actually. Seagulls with no earthly business here. One after another, they turned leisurely loops in the sky, diving lazily, and then soaring calmly over us, back up to do it all again. I saw them, and I had a sudden desire to rise up and fly. Just fly. All at once, I had an overwhelming urge to… to… what? I asked myself. To get up. To leave this battlefield. To just wander off, and never wander back on.
I daydreamed of lifting up on a warm thermal, spreading my wings, and then… just floating off. South, out of this bitter cold. Away, from the shrieks and dirt that was now running a wet, muddy red under our feet.
“Give it a few minutes before you try to stand up again.”
I looked up to see the 18th’s Primus Pilus standing over me. “We can’t breakout from here?”
“Afraid not. We can concentrate maybe a couple cohorts here and there—enough to pop them in the eye and scatter the whole undisciplined hoard of them—but as soon as we do, more of them just come up and fill in the gaps.”
“A little like trying to keep water out of a trireme after it’s been run through on a rostrum,” I said. I was thinking back to the last time I’d taken a ship to the East. The idiot piloting the thing was drunk, and had scraped the entire starboard across an old pier that was acting as a breakwater. All of us on board—not only the slaves, but also the freedmen, and even the two Senators with us—were forced to toss buckets of seawater back over the bow to keep the whole thing from sinking.
“Sorry sir,” he answered. “I didn't understand a word you just said. I’m not much of a sea person, I'm afraid.”
“I’m not much of one myself. I hope never to leave terra firma again—except to go to the baths.”
That brought a wry smile
to his face.
My head was clearing, and I sat up, steadying myself. Then I leaned again the earthen wall that was giving us cover.
Just then, a wild eep rose over the wall. In the distance, it was easy enough to make out groups of the barbarians turning on each other. It was a crazy, wild looking skirmish they were in—with each other.
“Now there’s something you would never see in a Roman line, eh? Even if you outlived Mars himself,” Caelius mentioned, so disinterested that he gave it only a passing glance.
“Does that happen a lot?” I asked. “It almost seems like we could break through, if we wanted.”
“It happens enough that it gives us a chance. But break out? Not the whole army, no. I don’t think we can get the whole army through. Not with the sheer number they’ve got. But a few cohorts on horse—sure. I’ve been thinking that might be our best move for now. Maybe we can run a few here past them. Make a break for it, back to our garrison at Aliso. Then the rest of us can hold out until Aliso can send us another legion or so, to take off the pressure.”
“Barbarians. Jeesh. A Roman army would have finished this by now, and be back sacrificing in the camp by night. But these people—even when they have us pinned up here, they can’t help themselves but break into fighting with each other every ten minutes.”
“That’s what we’re pinning our hopes on right now sir. That we can drive a gap between them and break out.”
“Well, we need to pin our hopes on something, right?” As I said it, I peered out, over the ramparts. For a minute, I thought I saw Arminius. My eyes had gone fuzzy after the second time I’d passed out. I sat down now again, and closed them. When I did, a coldness balled up in my stomach. All at once, I felt sick. I turned my head and retched. Once, twice. I couldn’t stop it now. I threw up all over the dirt next to me. The color blended in perfectly. The smell though—not so much.
