Varus answered, his voice and expression sober at the prospect of battle with the men he had formerly and briefly commanded.
‘Having commanded them in battle, I would be the first man to praise their exploits at the first battle of Cremona, and not simply because those deeds brought me to the attention of Vitellius.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Indeed that was attention that I could well have done without, given the way in which it exposed me to the serpentine behaviour of that man’s closest supporters. But they were irresistible on that day, breaking the First Classica in less time than it took them to sing the whole of their paean, although it would be fair of course to note that the marines from Misenum had already taken a mighty beating from this very legion prior to that brief and one-sided fight.’
‘And the praetorians they put to flight thereafter had already been bludgeoned to bloody tatters by the First Italica, had they not?’
The former praetorian prefect nodded at Cerialis’s question.
‘It’s true, they did little more than threaten their most hated enemies before the guard took to their heels, but trust me when I tell you this: even if they had been properly formed and unblooded, the praetorians would still have broken and fled in little more time than was the case when they were at the end of their rope, and ripe for defeat. Those Germans were nothing short of elemental in their fury at seeing the men who had contrived their proud imperial bodyguard’s dismissal from Rome in such disgrace. And so if you ask me who would win, the legion at our backs or the Germans waiting for us at the far end of the Rhenus …’
He thought for a moment.
‘I cannot in all honesty make such a prediction. Perhaps the ground on which the fight occurs will be the deciding factor, perhaps the losses that the Batavians have already taken, if the stories of their being surprised and savaged by the Vascones at Gelduba are true. But I’ll make you a prediction that I’d happily wager my entire fortune on.’
Cerialis and Longus stared at him expectantly, and Pugno raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘Which is?’
Varus smiled bleakly.
‘Whenever, wherever and however we come to face the Batavi, as they call themselves, we’ll need every bit of that ferocity your legion’s reputation is based on. Because they’ll fight like wild dogs, and doubly so if they’re defending their homeland. Mucianus has sent me with you to help broker a peace agreement, if such a thing is possible in this disaster of a situation, and it might be better for the empire if the Batavians were restored to their former position of pre-eminence within our armies, with previous sins forgiven and forgotten. Because the alternative seems to be for both of us to bleed ourselves white bringing this war to a conclusion, and that can only result in everyone losing.’
4
The Old Camp, Germania Inferior, March AD 70
‘Priest. Gather the men of the cohorts and have them ready to fight. Not that fighting will be required of them today.’
Alcaeus looked up from his sword’s blade, tinged blue with the gritty paste that each pass of his sharpening stone deposited on its surface even as it honed the iron to a deadly edge. Reaching for the waiting cleaning rag he passed it down both sides of the weapon’s length with the speed of long practice, stood and slid the sword into its scabbard.
‘I was not warned of any attack, or I would have—’
Hramn smiled, a rarity in itself, but the warm tone of his voice was enough to set the wolf-priest’s instincts twitching.
‘There is no attack planned. Nor have you failed in your duty on this occasion. This call to arms is unexpected, and all the more welcome for that. Today will be that rarest of things, a bloodless victory.’
Alcaeus looked at Hramn in surprise, realising exactly why it was that his superior was in such unexpectedly good spirits.
‘The siege is over. The Old Camp legions have surrendered?’
‘As good as. They’ve sent a message out to Kiv asking for terms. Seems they’ve run out of food at last, and now they want us to take pity on them. And it also appears as if Kiv’s inclined to show them that pity. The Gauls are collecting legions, it seems, so he’s minded to send them south as a gesture of goodwill to his new best friend Julius Classicus and their shiny new emperor.’
The wolf-priest shook his head in unfeigned surprise.
‘But what about the ten thousand men who’ve been camped around that fortress like cats waiting for the mice to come out for the last three months? Surely they’re not going to just watch those legions march away unscathed?’
The prefect shrugged, scratching at his beard.
‘That’s Kiv’s problem. But, for all that it’s none of our business, I asked him what he thought their reaction would be if he spared the Romans, and he told me that he’s come to an agreement with the tribal chiefs that they’ll have to be satisfied with him sending their legatus to the Bructeri priestess Veleda. Can you imagine the shame that will be heaped on Rome when they discover that one of their senators has been made a slave of the woman who predicted their defeat and gave the German tribes the push they needed to join with us?’
‘What about their senior centurions? One of them has disfigured well over a score of men while we’ve been waiting them out—’
‘And he’ll die for that. Kiv’s promised the tribal kings that he has a special revenge planned for the Banô.’
‘And the other … Marius, isn’t it?’
‘Is under my protection.’
Alcaeus turned a disbelieving stare on his superior.
‘Your protection?’
The prefect stared at him flatly.
‘He is known to me, Alcaeus. I’ve fought him on the harpastum field and I’ve sweated and drunk with him after a close game, so he’s under my protection. Understood?’
The wolf-priest nodded, evidently still not quite believing what he was hearing.
‘Understood. You want all three of them keeping from any harm, one to go and be a slave for a Bructeri priestess, one to make some sort of bloody recompense for making the tribes look foolish, and one because he’s an old friend you’ve traded punches with. Right?’
Hramn looked back at him with the same dead-eyed expression to which Alcaeus had become well-accustomed, his momentary good-humour abruptly dispelled by the disbelief in his deputy’s voice.
‘Follow your orders, Priest.’
‘Your request to surrender has been considered by both the leaders of the German tribes and the men who command the armies of the Gallic empire, Munius Lupercus.’ Kivilaz stared up at the painfully thin man standing above him on the walls of the Old Camp. ‘There are many among our peoples who would happily sit and wait while you starve to death, but we remain civilised men, despite the grievous losses that this siege has inflicted upon us. And so we have decided to permit you to leave this place, and to demonstrate that we remain capable of showing mercy even when our first instinct is to revenge. We will feed you sufficiently well to allow you to regain your strength before you go to serve your new masters. Although there are conditions.’
Lupercus nodded impassively.
‘Name them.’
The Batavi grinned up at him.
‘You will all swear allegiance to the Gallic empire, and you will do so today. My allies have some use for your men, it seems, in their preparations to resist any attempt by Rome to return them to imperial control. You yourself, Munius Lupercus, will become the property of the Batavi, to be disposed of as we see fit. I have it in my mind to offer you to the Bructeri priestess Veleda, as the living proof that her predictions of Batavi victory were well founded. Doubtless she can find some use for you.’
Lupercus remained stony-faced.
‘What else?’
Kivilaz smiled up at him with the smugness of a man who knew he had the whip hand.
‘As stoic as ever, I see. Very well. Your legionaries will parade outside these walls, with their swords and shields but leaving their spears behind them, and they will swear to fi
ght for the Gauls. Any man resisting that oath in any way whatsoever will forfeit his life immediately. And all heavy military equipment will be relinquished to the Batavi, intact and undamaged. Those bolt throwers will make a useful addition to our strength. Do you accept these conditions?’
‘I will consult with my officers.’
‘Very well. But be swift about it. My offer will not last forever.’
The legatus turned to Marius and Aquillius, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard by the waiting Germans.
‘There it is, gentlemen, we have to choose between accepting abject surrender, dishonour and quite possibly our murder, or staying inside these walls until starvation has weakened us to the point that we’re no longer strong enough to man them. Which will probably be a matter of days at best, at which point the enemy will come over them unopposed and put us all to the sword. I can save the lives of thousands of men by agreeing, at least for today. And once terms are agreed I’ll fall on my sword, and go to meet my ancestors with some share of honour and dignity. As might you both, if you so choose.’
The two centurions nodded, and Marius spoke for them both.
‘It would be our greatest honour to die with you, Legatus, and share in the legend that will be born in doing so.’
Lupercus turned back to look down at Kivilaz.
‘Your conditions are accepted, Julius Civilis.’
The Batavi grinned up at him knowingly.
‘I thought of one more, while you were debating the rights and wrongs of surrender to German barbarians. You may surrender, and the safe passage of your men from this place is guaranteed, if, and only if, you and your first spears surrender alongside them. If we discover that you’ve taken the easy way out in order to escape the shame of capture then your men’s lives will be forfeit. Do you understand?’
Lupercus stared at him in silence for a long moment before answering.
‘You would deny me a dignified and honourable death?’
Kivilaz nodded, his face creased in a knowing smile.
‘Your life, Munius Lupercus, has long been mine to command. I’ve owned it since that morning in Britannia when you would have fallen to a better swordsman had I not saved you from his blade, and now I’m calling you to account. As for your twin war-dogs, one at least is eagerly awaited down here by my German allies. I expect that there will be an audience of men who bear the disfigurements inflicted by his hands when he makes his slow and tortured exit from this life, eager for every scream they can tear from him. Those are my terms, Legatus. Do you accept them?’
‘We accept. But anyone expecting to hear my voice express pain will be sadly disappointed.’
Lupercus looked round at Aquillius, who had stepped forward to stare flatly down at Kivilaz. The Batavi prince laughed out loud.
‘The legendary Banô himself. Do you know what the name my allies have given you means? No? It means that you are their bane. A particularly appropriate name, given that you have caused so much death and distress among them with your brutal exploits on this field of bones. They have sworn to make you pay a hundredfold for those crimes against their sons and brothers, both for those left scarred and humiliated and those unable to deal with their mutilation who chose to end their lives in a dishonourable manner. So I look forward to seeing your vow to stay silent under their very close attention tested to its very limits.’ His gaze shifted back to Lupercus. ‘Very well. Assuming that the centurion speaks for you all, you will open the fortress gates and march out, ready to disown your empire and swear loyalty to another. No man is to bring any personal possessions other than his sword and shield, and any man found in possession of any form of wealth will be killed immediately. Be about it, Legatus, before I change my mind and leave you all to die of hunger.’
The legatus turned to his officers.
‘It seems we’re to be denied even the simple dignity of taking our own lives. No matter, we’ll take whatever fate has chosen to throw in our path and treat it with the disdain of men who know they are in the right. Whatever happens from now, it’s been my greatest privilege to have served with you both. Now muster your men and bring them to the South gate, we’ll perform this one last action in a manner fitting for men of Rome. I’m damned if I’ll give Kivilaz the pleasure of seeing me cowed.’
Egilhard and his men watched as the legions marched slowly out of the fortress they had held for so long, Frijaz shaking his head at the sight of so many men brought so low by hunger. The legionaries were parading out of the western gate, after a fashion, the weaker among them supported by their more robust comrades, barely able to stand themselves under the weight of their equipment.
‘This is the might of Rome? I’ve had harder shits.’
His nephew shook his head, standing close behind the century with Hludovig’s brass-bound hastile held in both hands.
‘They’ve killed their own number and more, defending this place. Their bolt throwers killed my leading man, if you remember, and they felled so many Germans that the pyres burned for days each time we attacked.’
The older man grunted disparagement.
‘From behind twenty-foot-high walls. With bolt throwers and stones. They wouldn’t have lasted an hour in open battle. And now we’re expected to keep the tribes off their backs, so that they can go and play at soldiers for the Gauls?’
‘Now we’re expected to obey orders, brother.’ Lataz’s gaze had remained fixed on the Romans as he spoke. ‘So let’s do as we’re asked without expending any more of that hot air you’re so good at showering us with.’
Frijaz sneered back at him, but was cut off before he could reply by a voice from behind him.
‘I always wondered if you’d missed your place in life, Soldier Lataz. You could have been a leading man, if you’d not been so intent on remaining a soldier and keeping the respect of your mates.’ The tent party came to attention, but Alcaeus waved a distracted hand to return them to their previous state of relaxation. ‘Although Frijaz, and may Magusanus forgive me for my surprise in the matter, is, just this once, in the right. They wouldn’t have lasted an hour against us in battle, and, given the state they’re in now, they wouldn’t last a dozen heartbeats. And yes, we’ve been sent here to provide them with an escort to the camp where they’ll be fed and strengthened up for the march south. If the tribes were allowed to get among them then there’d be a slaughter that would have the road gutters ankle-deep in blood.’
He pointed out a trio of men standing to one side of the legions as they struggled onto the Old Camp’s parade ground.
‘I need a tent party of good men to guard those three in particular. That’s their legatus in the middle, with the bronze armour, and he’s promised to Veleda as a gift from the tribe. If anything happens to him then Kivilaz is going to be very unhappy with Hramn, who’ll be equally displeased with me, and in that event I’ll make sure that my resulting sense of disappointment rolls all the way downhill and expresses itself upon you, and in the most uncompromising fashion. Is that clear, Achilles?’
Egilhard nodded briskly.
‘The legatus is promised to a priestess and must be protected against any attempt to get at him. What about the other two, Centurion?’
‘The other two, Chosen Man Egilhard, are every bit as important. The one on the left of the legatus is Marius, and Prefect Hramn wants him to be protected from any attempts at revenge. Apparently they’ve played harpastum together …’ he paused, shaking his head in disbelief, ‘and Hramn respects him in some manly fashion that’s common to the sport. I expect he’ll be spared to accompany his superior across the river and end his days as a slave to the priestess alongside him, which isn’t a fate I’d wish on a warrior but which, I suppose, is better than being peeled by one of those mad bastards the tribes call priests. And the other, somewhat more importantly, is Aquillius.’ He watched their faces. ‘Yes. Exactly. The Banô. The man who’s been hunting our allies in the night, either gutting them and leaving them to die or cutting an ea
gle into their foreheads and then melting back into the darkness. There are a lot of men who’d very much like some time alone with him, and Kiv’s got something special planned for him but I’ve neither any idea what it is nor any desire to find out. All I know is that he’s to be kept alive for long enough that whatever’s planned for him isn’t spoiled by some revenge-crazed warrior with a knife getting to him first. So when I call you forward I want you and your men to guard those three as if your lives depended on it.’
Drawing themselves up in their sadly depleted cohorts, the two legions stood under the watchful eyes of the Germans who thronged the parade ground’s edge, held back by lines of Batavi soldiers, their snarling curses and gestures making it very clear what revenge they would have been taking if not for the protective cordon of their allies. Lupercus and his senior centurions stood to one side, knowing that their fate was likely to be different to that of their men but determined not to demonstrate any fear. At length, with the Romans paraded and their fortress emptied out, Alcaeus approached them and saluted Lupercus without any sign of irony.
‘Greetings, Legatus, my name is Alcaeus, wolf-priest to the Batavi cohorts. My orders are to administer a sacred oath of loyalty to the Gallic empire and then to march you away to the site of your new camp. When we get there you will be fed, and have the chance to rest before the new commander takes your men away to serve against Rome, and the three of you to your own fates.’
Lupercus nodded tiredly.
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