by James Mace
“The staff carried by the optio has the practical use of keeping legionaries in formation during the heat of battle. Many a battle has hinged on the abilities of such chosen men to keep their soldiers focused and disciplined when it was most crucial. The staff is also a symbol of his rank, and of his newly granted authority.” Macro paused for a moment before unrolling the document he held.
“Sergeant Vitruvius, post!” he barked.
Stone-faced, Vitruvius marched to the front of the formation and stood facing the centurion.
Macro then read the order. “Sergeant Vitruvius, as a testament to your abilities as a leader of men and of your unfailing loyalty to the Emperor, the Senate and people of Rome, and your unwavering fidelity to your legion, you are hereby promoted to the rank of optio.”
Vitruvius was very grave as he took the parchment bearing his promotion orders, along with the staff that signified his office. He still walked with a very slight limp from where Artorius had stabbed him in the foot with the training gladius, as he took his place at the center, behind the formation.
Macro continued, “Should I fall in battle, who will lead my men?”
“I will, centurion!” Vitruvius answered.
A soldier named Sextus was subsequently promoted to decanus to replace Vitruvius as section leader. Three new recruits had sworn the oath of allegiance that day and were entered into the rolls of the legion. Artorius remembered what it had been like when he had finally been allowed to swear the oath and join the ranks. Had it been only a year? It felt longer, almost a lifetime since he first swore the oath of allegiance to the Emperor, Senate, and people of Rome. He did not know the new men since they were assigned to different sections. Still he made it a point, along with just about everyone else in the century, of clasping each on the shoulder, shaking their hands, and welcoming them to the legion.
The journey had been very disagreeable for Thusnelda, especially in her condition. She knew it would not be long until she would go into labor. Her child kicked, causing her to wince.
She hated that she was caught in the middle of this feud between Arminius and her father. And now with the Romans involved, it only made things worse. The Romans had taken her to one of their legionary fortresses west of the Rhine. Her father had assured her that everything would be alright. Yet, in spite of his reassurances, she still felt uneasy. The fortress was huge, unlike anything she had ever seen before.
The Romans treated her cordially enough. They offered her a comfortable bed to sleep in, and their own doctors to assist her when the time came for her child to be born. She was reluctant to accept their offer. However she had no other choice at this point. Her father came walking into the room.
“How are you managing, daughter?” Segestes asked.
Thusnelda placed a hand over her swollen belly.
“The little fellow is kicking hard. I think he wants to come out and play,” she answered.
Segestes smiled. As much as he hated Arminius and the fact that his daughter would bear that man’s child, he still deeply loved her. Though she tried to outwardly remain cheerful, Segestes could easily see the confusion and sadness that gripped her.
“You know I did what I thought was best for you,” he said.
“I know,” she replied, slowly running her hand over her stomach. “I never wanted to leave with Arminius in the first place. He practically kidnapped me! But then, after all that time I spent with him, I did start to grow fond of him. . .”
“He stole you away from your family!” Segestes snapped. “And let’s not forget, he is the one who betrayed the Romans, thereby sealing the fate of many of our peoples.”
“I don’t know why he betrayed the Romans,” the young woman replied. “I had never met one before this whole nightmare began. He always told me he was looking to make Germania independent, united. Given the nature of our people, that may be little more than a dream. However, in that one moment when he struck down three of Rome’s legions, he actually brought all of the tribes together in one common cause.” She looked away, dreamily, but immediately snapped back when she saw the look of concern on her father’s face. It was he, after all, who had warned Varus of Arminius’ betrayal and the pending disaster.
“Rome has been good to my family and to my people,” he said softly, “and now Arminius has our lands. The Romans will devastate them in retribution for what he has done. Many of the sub-tribes that Arminius rallied to his cause have already paid a heavy price. The Chatti have been smashed, the Marsi practically exterminated.”
Thusnelda closed her eyes at that. She had many friends among both tribes, and she feared greatly for their safety. Yet she also knew that her father’s statement was no exaggeration. She shuddered at the thought.
“He cannot hope to win this war,” Segestes continued. “So many have died already, and yet I fear this pending campaign will be even worse. Arminius’ dreams have led to nothing but excessive suffering and bloodshed.”
“And what of us now, Father?” Thusnelda asked. “Are we little more than political prisoners for the Romans?”
Segestes looked puzzled.
“How can I be a prisoner when I asked the Romans for help in the first place?” he asked. “No, my daughter, we are the Romans’ guests. And I have decided that we will be done with Germania forever. We will travel to Rome, and there life will start anew.”
“And what of my child… Arminius’ child?” Thusnelda asked.
“The child will never know his true lineage. He will have a future completely devoid of any knowledge as to who his father really is. That alone will cause Arminius to seethe. What will become of him after he is born, I really do not know. The Romans will see any seed of Arminius as a threat. However, I do have the promise of Germanicus that your child will be allowed to live.”
“As a slave, you mean,” Thusnelda replied, a tear coming to her eye.
Her father sighed and lowered his head.
“It is still the child of Arminius. I don’t know what the Romans plan for him. Just be content that your child will live.”
Orders had come through, and everyone was in a frenzy trying to get all equipment packed and loaded onto the transports. In addition to each barge carrying two sections with all of their gear, a scorpion was placed up front, able to fire at targets attacking either side of the barge. The barges had been placed on rollers so they could be more easily moved into the water. Artorius was awestruck by the sight. There were several Triremes carrying most of the baggage, along with the senior officers. The majority of the men rode in the smaller barges. Even Master Centurion Flavius elected to ride on a barge with the men instead of on a ship.
He watched as each cohort, in turn, rolled their barges into the river, the crews fighting to keep them in formation. Soon it was their turn, and their section along with Sergeant Sextus’ section rolled the barge into the waiting river. Artorius shivered as the cold water lapped at his crotch while he helped to get the barge underway.
Once everyone was on board, the designated oarsmen pushed off and rowed out to their place in the large-scale formation. He watched as the fortress slowly disappeared over the horizon. It would be another full campaign season before he returned to the place he had come to call home. He hoped when he did see her again, it would be as part of a triumphant army having just vanquished Arminius and his demonic beasts.
“The Romans have left their winter quarters,” the scout reported.
Arminius immediately sat up. He had been reclining on his pallet, contemplating the events of the previous campaign and the loss of his wife.
“Where are they now?” he asked.
“Somewhere along the Frisian coast,” the scout replied. “Some local tribes have organized sorties against them. However, these would be ill advised. The Roman barges all have their cursed artillery weapons on board.”
Arminius was vexed. He did not know where the Romans would land and launch their invasion from, though he knew it would come deep within
their territory. What he needed now was time to organize and assemble his forces. He had kept all the war chiefs as his guests throughout the winter in order to keep them close at hand when the moment came. He stepped outside. It was a warm day. He watched as huntsmen returned with their game, foresters returning with loads of lumber. All these men would soon throw down their labors and rally to their true calling. These men were Cherusci, warriors without equal in courage and ferocity. They would all be needed in order to repel the Roman invaders. Ingiomerus came walking over to him. The tenacious old warrior had almost fully recovered from the fearful wound he suffered at Ahenobarbi just a few months before.
“Well?” he asked.
Arminius turned to face him. “It is time.”
Ingiomerus smiled and turned to go find the other war chiefs. Soon, all were gathered around their leader. In spite of their hardheadedness and reckless abandon, Arminius truly loved these men. They were, after all, his people…his blood…his very life. They had faced the Romans time and again and would continue to do so until the issue was decided for good.
“Where shall we face the Romans?” Haraxus asked. He had been amongst the most fanatical and devoted of all the warriors Arminius had. With him was his young son, eager to join his father in battle.
Arminius smiled at the boy and immediately thought about his own son. He sighed. His son, if it was a son, had to have been born by now. Would he ever see him, and would the child ever know his father? It was highly unlikely. Arminius shook his head. He could not focus on such things if he was going to lead his people to any kind of military success against the pending invaders.
“Our warriors are brave, but I believe they are a bit shaken since last season,” he began.
“Arminius, your warriors will follow you into hell itself!” Haraxus retorted.
The rest of the council rumbled and nodded in agreement.
And that’s just where I’m taking them, he thought to himself.
“The Romans will fight us wherever we choose,” he said aloud, “so anxious are they for battle. There is a place where, not only will they have the courage and the valor of our warriors to deal with, they will also have the gods themselves to face! It is there that we will bring every warrior from every tribe in our alliance. There we will give battle. Come with me to Idistaviso!”
Chapter XVII: Into the Heart of Germania
Off the coast of Germania, near the Ems River
May, 16 A.D.
***
Artorius watched as the coast slowly passed by. Each section took their turn at the oars. At least they didn’t get blisters with all of the calluses built up from hours of weapons practice. It was his turn to man the scorpion along with Magnus. Every time he had to man the scorpion, he hoped he would see barbarians on the coast, trying to harass their movement. So far it had been quiet. Only one time had they been harassed, and he had been on oar duty at the time. Gavius and Valens had succeeded in killing one enemy assailant with the scorpion before the others fled. Today it did not look like Artorius and Magnus would get to see any action.
Everyone was a little bit on edge since they were approaching the heart of Germania. They had a feeling that Arminius was simply waiting for them to get to a tight spot on the river, and then spring his trap. They could feel the eyes of barbarians watching them as they floated quietly along the coast.
Artorius looked around. The fleet of ships and barges was huge by the time the other legions plus auxiliaries had joined up with them. A few of the unwieldy barges had foundered when they reached the mouth of the river and the breaking surf. Fortunately, none were drowned and all were pulled onto other craft. He could see neither the beginning nor the end of the formation.
“And against us the Germans will throw every warrior in the entire damn land,” he heard Magnus complain.
“Let them,” Artorius said. “I hope they do come at us with everything they have. Then we can kill them off once and for all!”
Magnus shook his head. “Still haven’t quite lost your lust for revenge, eh?”
“Oh, no,” Artorius answered, “just a little more focused is all.”
“You know, the only thing I really lust for…” Valens started to say as Decimus lifted his oar out of the water and smacked him on top of the head.
“We know what you lust for!” Decimus said.
Valens threw down his oar, turned, and jumped on top of Decimus. He picked the other legionary up and threw him into the water. As Decimus pulled himself, laughing, back onto the barge, Statorius grabbed his gladius, still in the scabbard, and smacked them both across the ears.
“Enough!” he shouted. “I will not have my legionaries acting like a bunch of fucking idiots! One more stunt like that and it will be the centurion’s vine stick for the both of you!”
“Could you, please, not rock the boat?”
They heard Carbo shout from the back of the barge. He was squatting off the back, holding on to a piece of timber while trying to relieve himself. Any sense of modesty was completely overwhelmed by the needs of nature.
“Tension’s starting to get to everyone,” Magnus whispered.
“Well, we’ve been on this barge for two weeks already,” Artorius replied under his breath. “I think boredom is starting to set in, too.”
“It set in a couple of days into this damn voyage,” Magnus said.
“Could be worse,” Artorius said. “We could be facing skirmishes, ambushes, and building damn bridges through the swamps of that cursed land like last time.”
Carbo let out a stream of oaths. “I can’t believe no one thought to put a damn privy seat back here, and who forgot to smooth the splinters on the railing? Oh, my delicate behind!” he moaned, causing everyone to laugh at their friend’s plight.
Artorius chuckled as he wiped stray wood shavings from the front of his tunic and quietly replaced his dagger.
Germanicus watched the fleet rowing their way along from his vantage point in the flag ship. He was awestruck by the tremendous power that he wielded. This was the most impressive machine of war assembled in one place. His eight legions alone numbered roughly forty-thousand men. In addition to these were auxiliaries, cavalry, archers, and over four hundred pieces of artillery awaiting his orders. Communication and coordination were an absolute necessity. As huge as his army was, he knew the forces mustered by Arminius would be much larger. It didn’t seem possible as he watched the ships and barges filling the water as far as he could see. The weather and Neptune had cooperated, allowing the men to camp on the shoreline each evening. The Ems River was soon in sight on the horizon to the east. A few days travel up the river, find where Arminius had gathered his forces, and it would, hopefully, be over soon afterwards. They had dealt Arminius a blow the year before. However, they were far from having avenged the tragedy of Teutoburger Wald.
After three days of rowing up the Ems River, the army disembarked and started setting up its fortified camp.
The camp was absolutely huge. Lumber was plentiful in the heart of Germania, but the labor involved in erecting such a massive fortification to house a large number of men had been astounding. Artorius stood his post on sentry duty, marveling at his own small role in everything. Decimus stood the post with him as well, the rest of the section either working on personal equipment issues or catching up on sleep.
“How long have they been gone?” Artorius asked, referring to the flying column that left to lay waste to the newly rebellious Angrivarii tribe.
“Four days maybe,” Decimus answered.
“I’m kind of glad we missed out on that little operation,” Artorius replied, looking off into the distance where he knew the Angrivarii were being sorely punished for their misdeeds.
“Serves them right,” Decimus said. “Though I admit that sticking farmers and destroying land is not one of the more enjoyable tasks a legionary performs.”
“What are some of the more enjoyable tasks?” Artorius asked, trying to make for an interesti
ng conversation.
“Whoring, drinking, gambling, sports, and I suppose whoring some more…with a little bit of plunder thrown in!” Decimus shouted boisterously.
Artorius laughed. “Sounds like the life of Sicilian pirates!” he remarked.
“Except we get paid to do it…and we don’t have to like the sea very much.”
The wind was blowing warm and gentle. It felt good to Artorius. He still cringed from the cold winter they had had to endure. He hoped next winter would be spent mostly indoors and not out on ambush duty or building boats. The grass was green and everything was in full bloom.
“With days like today, it’s hard to believe there’s a war going on,” he remarked.
“I know,” Decimus replied.
Just then they caught movement out in the distance. There were several horsemen at the front of a large number of men. Some of the horsemen were carrying Roman standards.
“Column’s returning!” Artorius shouted over his shoulder.
This was echoed by the other sentries. He watched as several men rode on horseback from the center of the camp. With the camp being as large as it was, it was impossible to move from one end to the other at any decent speed without a horse. He recognized two of the men as Germanicus and Severus. They met the column and its legate as they rode in through the front gate.
“Looks like they had a profitable time,” Artorius remarked, looking at the weighted bags of plunder the infantry carried with them.
“Damn, I guess it’s too bad we didn’t go on this one,” Decimus replied. “Looks like the Angrivarii were quite the prosperous tribe.”
“That’s just it. They were a prosperous tribe,” Artorius retorted as he turned back to watch his sector and enjoy the warm breeze and the smells of the open fields. The paradox was not lost on him. He contemplated the scenic and peaceful view that calmed his senses. Here he was an armed, professional killer in the midst of it all.
