Wolves of Rome

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  As soon as his tent was ready he put his baggage inside, but did not take off his armour, as he would be reporting to the legion commander shortly. He made his way on foot between the lit torches that illuminated the two main axes of the camp, at the intersection of which the commander’s own quarters were located. He suddenly saw the Hermundur looming in front of him on his brown horse. He did not speak, but motioned for Arminius to follow.

  In a darker area of the camp, he leapt off his horse and approached Arminius. Even on foot, he was a good head taller.

  ‘Hail, warrior,’ said Arminius.

  ‘Hail to you, Armin,’ replied the Hermundur.

  ‘Whenever you suddenly appear there’s a baffling message to be had. Baffling, but crucial. This time?’

  ‘Noble Sigmer, your father, remained faithful to a pact for many years knowing you were in Rome and how you got there.’

  ‘It’s all ended well.’

  ‘But the situation has changed recently. The chieftains of the lands between the Rhine and the Weser have decided to fight back, and he cannot refuse to join them. The Cherusci are at war. There has been no confrontation yet, but there’s no time to lose. Speak with Legate Velleius and then return here. I’ll take you to your father, tonight.’

  The words he was hearing made him tremble.

  He would see his father.

  ‘Wait here,’ said Arminius. ‘I’ll be back as soon as possible.’ He strode off towards the praetorian tent.

  Velleius greeted him with a cordial expression and had him sit on a folding chair next to his own. He had a map in front of him, drawn on oxhide.

  ‘This shows our operations over the coming days. The Cherusci have abandoned their alliance with the Roman people and have united with other Germanic tribes between the Rhine and the Weser, but as you can see, we’ll have them trapped. Our legions and our cavalry units will be advancing from three directions, leaving them no way out. Your unit will move along this red line,’ he concluded, pointing his finger at the route already drawn on the map.

  Arminius remained silent for a few moments.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Velleius. ‘But this is the highest proof of your loyalty that you can give to your commander, Tiberius Caesar, who already knows what you’ve done for the emperor.’

  ‘Legate, I’m here to propose a different solution that could resolve the problem without spilling blood. Commander Tiberius Caesar is the brother of General Drusus, who fell thirteen years ago during a campaign in Germania. You may not have been aware, Legate, that my father, noble Sigmer, had a privileged personal relationship with Drusus . . .’

  ‘I thought that was just hearsay.’

  ‘It’s the truth. My father himself told me about it.’

  ‘And what might your solution be?’

  ‘I know that my father was forced to abandon his alliance with the people of Rome and I know that he is against war. Perhaps I could convince him to accept a new treaty of alliance that would also be acceptable to Commander Tiberius Caesar.’

  ‘There’s no time. We’ll be attacking very soon.’

  ‘I’m ready to leave now.’

  Velleius sighed and put a hand in front of his weary eyes. ‘Now? You mean tonight?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll be back before dawn.’

  ‘Do I have your word?’

  ‘You have my word.’

  Velleius nodded. Arminius left the tent and walked south down the cardo. He met a picket of legionaries on patrol who recognized him and saluted him. When he reached the point where he had met the Hermundur, he left the torch-lit road and walked into the dark.

  The warrior emerged from the shadows, holding two horses by the reins. They mounted them at once and rode at a walk to the nearest gate. The Hermundur showed a pass to the guard on duty and then immediately spurred on his horse, followed by Arminius. They galloped down dark, hidden paths, crossed fords, splashing up clouds of water, thundered over a part of the pontes longi and pulled to a halt at the edge of a clearing. The moon was peering over the treetops.

  ‘He’s here,’ said the Hermundur. Arminius sprang to the ground. He still wore the armour of the Germanic Auxilia of the Roman army and it made him uncomfortable, but he did not take it off. Just a short time later, a pounding of hooves could be heard and a snorting of horses. Powerful Sigmer, Lord of the Cherusci, appeared. Escorted by fifty warriors in full battle order. Sigmer advanced slowly on his mount, as if on parade. As night had fallen the temperature had dropped and the animal blew little clouds of steam from his nostrils.

  Arminius went towards him on foot. ‘Father.’

  Sigmer dismounted and walked towards his son until they were facing each other. His grey hair was gathered at the nape of his neck. He wore rough wool trousers and an oxhide cuirass. A long sword hung at his side from a silver-studded baldric.

  Arminius felt his heart pounding, as if he were still a child, standing before his father.

  ‘Father,’ he said again.

  ‘You’ve grown,’ said Sigmer, with a grimace.

  ‘You look well.’

  ‘You were seen fighting with great energy against our allies of the north.’

  ‘The same allies of the north who fought against you many times. The Romans always stick to their pacts.’

  ‘What should I do, then?’ asked Sigmer.

  ‘I want to show you the way out of a very dangerous situation. So dangerous that it might prove lethal for you and your people in just a matter of days.’

  ‘Our people,’ his father corrected him.

  ‘There’s no time to argue about words. Listen to me: Tiberius Caesar is the older brother of General Drusus, who you knew well. He is just as brave as his brother, and so strong that no one can stand against him, so powerful in battle that he’s never lost a single one. Not one battle. If his brother brought the border to the Rhine, he brought it to the Danube. In a matter of years the two brothers established the confines of the Roman Empire.

  ‘You have no way out, Father. I don’t think you want to see your people massacred or enslaved, the women raped and sold to the highest bidder, the villages burned. I am in the position to negotiate a good treaty between the Cherusci and the Romans. Between you and Tiberius Caesar. You will keep your kingdom and continue to govern your people, and you will renew the pact of alliance with Rome at more or less the same conditions as before.’

  ‘The same conditions? But that is impossible.’

  ‘It is possible. It’s already happened. Listen to me. Please. Think about it: it’s because Tiberius knows war so well that he prefers peace, where possible.’ Big clouds had begun gathering in the middle of the sky and were hiding the moon. Lightning slithered at the horizon and distant rumbling could be heard. ‘Permit me to negotiate for you, Father, before the storm hits!’

  Sigmer lowered his head. A flash of lightning carved deep furrows into a face hardened by many seasons and by many wars. ‘You have my permission,’ he said, as if throwing a boulder off his chest.

  Arminius embraced him and after a moment’s hesitation, Sigmer returned his embrace.

  ‘Go,’ he whispered. ‘Ride as fast as you can.’

  Arminius jumped onto his steed and raced off through the forest, with the Hermundur right behind him. The god of storm was riding the clouds at their back, swallowing the moon and the stars, one after another. Lightning enflamed the streams with blinding flashes and lit up the rugged landscape before them, the path twisting between colossal trees that cast their tragic shadows on the ground.

  The storm exploded all at once, the rain pounding down from open gates, but Arminius knew that unless he arrived before Tiberius addressed the troops, all was lost. Nothing could hold back the eagles.

  They risked their lives more than once snaking between the dripping rocks, slipping on the rain-drenched moss, but in the end the Hermundur led Arminius to the castrum, the encampment where the quarters of the high commander were watched over and defended by five
hundred praetorians. They pulled on the reins and drew up to a halt at the tower which guarded the decumanus gate.

  ‘Open up!’ yelled the Hermundur.

  ‘Who goes there?’ demanded the sentry.

  ‘Commander Tiberius Caesar will roast you over a slow fire if you don’t let me in. I have a message of the utmost importance to give him. It’s a question of life or death! Open!’ shouted the warrior and a clap of thunder exploded above them so loudly that it seemed that the gods themselves were giving the order.

  The gate opened, screeching and sighing, and the two Germanic warriors raced through the camp, not stopping until they came up short against the swords of the praetorian guard.

  ‘Tell the commander that Sigmer sends a messenger who asks to negotiate!’ exclaimed Arminius.

  ‘Get out of here!’ yelled the tribune who commanded the guard. Another burst of thunder was followed by silence, and then the voice of Commander Tiberius Caesar: ‘Let him in.’

  Arminius entered, soaking with rain and dripping with mud, and saluted the supreme commander.

  ‘You’ve had a difficult journey,’ said Tiberius, throwing him a distracted look.

  ‘It was worth the trouble, Commander. I bear news of great importance.’

  ‘Speak.’

  ‘I know that you are an extraordinary soldier, and that you’ve never been defeated on the battlefield, but I’ve also heard that whenever the opportunity presents itself, you prefer negotiation to the use of force . . .’

  ‘Go on,’ said Tiberius, without committing himself.

  Arminius decided to risk it nonetheless. ‘I’ve met with my father, the lord of the Cherusci, Sigmer. It was I who asked to speak to him. I hadn’t seen him since I was taken to Rome as an adolescent by Primus Pilus Centurion Marcus Caelius, known as Taurus.’

  ‘I know him. Continue.’

  ‘I told my father that he had no hope of saving his people and himself from your attack. I advised him to surrender . . .’ Tiberius did not say a word. Arminius had come to the most difficult part, and couldn’t back down now. ‘He said he wouldn’t hear of it and I, knowing that your troops will soon be crossing the border of the Cherusci territory, decided to make him a proposal that I was certain he would accept. I did that without knowing whether you would accept, Commander. I promised him that if he re-allied himself with Rome that you would accept him at the same terms as before.’

  ‘You are mad,’ replied Tiberius. ‘I would never even consider it. Your father betrayed the trust of the Roman people and he will have to bear the consequences of such an act.’

  ‘Commander,’ Arminius continued, ‘I beg you to accept my request. Not for me and not for my father, but for the memory of your brother, General Drusus, who died in your arms.’

  ‘Do not name my brother!’ exclaimed Tiberius.

  ‘I am naming him,’ insisted Arminius, ‘in the name of the friendship that bound him to my father . . .’

  ‘Nothing but a legend.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Commander. What they say is true. I was little more than a child when my father told me about his friendship with General Drusus. He wouldn’t have lied to me. I can tell you about things that only the two of them knew. Like your brother’s struggle with the Germanic oracle.’

  Tiberius fell silent and lowered his head. Arminius’s words had hit their mark.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘At the same terms. I give you my word. But you make sure that I don’t live to regret this. There won’t be a second time.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ replied Arminius. ‘I’ll go back now to give him the news and to prevent anything unforeseen from happening.’

  Tiberius did not try to stop him. The storm meanwhile had abated in intensity. Arminius reached the Hermundur.

  ‘Well then?’ the warrior asked him.

  ‘He accepted renewal of the pact under the same conditions. It’s a good solution that is advantageous for everyone. I want to go back now. I don’t want anyone to convince my father to do something he’ll later regret.’

  The Hermundur did not utter a word. They mounted their horses and together they rode back on the path that had just brought them to Tiberius. They took the return of the moon between the wind-tattered clouds as a good sign for their journey. They were familiar by now with the obstacles and could proceed at a fast rate.

  They arrived before dawn at the clearing where the meeting had taken place; several of the warriors were still there. They were the ones who led them to the place Sigmer had chosen to spend the night. Among them was Ingmar, brother of the Cherusci sovereign, who presented himself to his nephew. The two men embraced and then set off for their destination: a hunting cabin built of wooden planks, plastered over.

  ‘I never imagined I’d see you again,’ said Ingmar. ‘I wouldn’t even have recognized you. It makes me think of how young you and your brother Wulf were when you were taken from us. But there was a Hermundur who always kept us informed. Is it true that you fought Germanicus hand-to-hand?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Arminius, ‘but it was just training. We ended up even.’

  Ingmar was greatly pleased with the news of a return to the old pact of alliance with Rome, which had ensured power and prosperity for their people. He showed no concern over the fact that they would have to fight against other Germanic peoples. That was nothing new, and it never had been.

  ‘Once this war is over,’ Ingmar said, ‘no one will be able to compete with us. We will be the most powerful people on earth. Everyone will have to respect us and fear us.’

  Sigmer was also greatly relieved by the news Arminius bore. The idea of leading his people in war against the Romans, who had been their allies for so long, had tormented him.

  ‘And so, that which remains of the night,’ he said to his son, ‘you’ll be spending in the house of your father. This is a great joy for me.’

  ‘For me as well,’ replied Arminius, embracing him once again.

  The next morning, Velleius, back at camp, waited in vain for Arminius’s return. He complained again and again with his officers about the duplicity of the Germanics, people you could never trust.

  Arminius returned at the sixth hour and reported to Velleius as he had reported earlier to Tiberius Caesar. Velleius wrote it all down in his diary.

  The campaign went on through that whole year, and only in December did the high commander allow his men to retreat to their winter quarters. Then Tiberius Caesar left with a reduced escort for Italy. He crossed the snow-covered Alps to reach his adoptive father and recount to him how the Germanic campaign was proceeding. But certain disparagers suggested that there was another reason for that journey: to meet with his mother and to make certain that no one, in his absence, had succeeded in undermining his political position and the line of succession.

  Come spring, Tiberius hoped to achieve something that had never been attained by anyone.

  The subjugation of Germania.

  19

  ARMINIUS REMAINED IN GERMANIA all winter. Under the orders of Legate Velleius at first, in the winter quarters of a legionary fort west of the Rhine. Later in the winter he requested permission to join his father at his home, and Velleius did not object, well aware that it was Arminius who had urged Sigmer to re-ally with Rome after breaking away and had then convinced Commander Tiberius Caesar himself to ratify the agreement. His precious mediation had avoided a long and bloody campaign against one of the most powerful Germanic nations beyond the Rhine.

  Sigmer’s home was the same one Arminius had lived in as a boy and adolescent. It was built of debarked tree trunks and had a roof with two slopes. Its long side faced south and it was big enough to house at least thirty people. In front of the entry door there was a canopy supported by two poles on which a capital and base were roughly carved. Inside there were several rooms separated by partitions made of reeds which had been plastered over; there was one large central room where visitors were received. Its walls were decorated with weapons
and armour, shields with crossed spears, trophies from defeated enemies and hunted animals. There were also gifts brought by important visitors that were placed in the most brightly lit areas.

  Arminius remembered the room that his parents slept in; he and Wulf would sometimes manage to sneak in early in the morning and jump on the enormous bed covered with bearskins. The rugs on the side of the bed were made of bison hide.

  He had so many things to tell his father, and his mother too. He had never dreamed he would see her alive again. Not because of her age, but because she’d always had such a feeble constitution that made her slender and fragile-looking, but also gave her a soft, delicate air, especially in her face and her twinkling blue eyes. Arminius remembered his father’s friends being so surprised that such a frail-looking woman could have given birth to such sturdily built sons.

  When he had embraced her and offered a rather clumsy caress, she had dropped her eyes to hide any show of emotion, because Germanic women had to always be models of fortitude. ‘Mother, it’s been so long . . .’ he said.

  ‘So long . . .’ she sighed.

  In the months he spent at home, Arminius often went hunting with his father, his uncle Ingmar and sometimes with the bodyguards. It pleased him that he was becoming reaccustomed to the rigid climate and harsh conditions of an environment that during his long stay in Rome and in the East he had almost forgotten. His father gave him a horse, a Pannonian steed used to racing through the endless plains of the land he came from; he had been a gift, in turn, from the chieftain of a distant tribe. His name was Borr and he was a fine horse indeed.

  The winter nights were long ones. At dusk the sun descended into the gloomy, foggy, hovering vapours and slowly drowned in the swamp.

  The snows began, big flakes that danced in the wind and laid down a white blanket on the earth from horizon to horizon. In those lazy days Arminius spent his time by the fire, adding a piece of wood every now and then and listening to it crackle and sizzle. His father kept him company. His mother, sitting in the corner, spun wool with a spindle and distaff.