Corbulo snorted in outrage and, with a curt nod of farewell to Vespasian, turned on his heels and stormed away down the quay.
‘There will be less flamboyance and more decorum whilst you’re serving with me, Paetus,’ Vespasian informed him as they watched Corbulo go.
‘More decorum, got you, sir,’ Paetus replied, giving Vespasian the distinct impression that he had not ‘got’ him.
Vespasian decided not to pursue the matter for the present as, despite himself, he had taken a liking to his old friend’s son. With his open, amiable, round face and humorous blue eyes he was the image of his father when he and Vespasian had first met in Thracia; that, plus the guilt that Vespasian felt at not keeping his promise to take some interest in his upbringing, was enough to make him feel that he owed him some latitude in his behaviour. He could see why Corbulo, with his aristocratic reserve and prejudices, has taken a dislike to him, but he felt that he could not judge him until he had seen how he performed leading his men. Although Paetus was young to be a prefect of auxiliary cavalry it did not surprise Vespasian, as patrician families such as the Junii, with their long line of Consuls, could expect rapid promotion; his father had achieved the same rank at roughly the same age.
‘How many more to go, Ansigar?’ Paetus shouted at a fullbearded decurion – the Batavians served under their own officers.
‘Four, sir,’ was the heavily accented reply.
‘It looks like your turma is going to win.’ Paetus looked up the stone quay at the queues of horses waiting to board the other five ships. ‘That’ll be as much beer for you and your lads as you can drink when we get back to our camp.’
Ansigar grinned. ‘If the Norns who spin our fate have made our life threads long enough, but they’re devious bitches.’
Paetus slapped his subordinate on the shoulder. ‘That’s women for you.’
‘No, prefect, that’s goddesses for you.’
Paetus gave a loud laugh. ‘Female gods! Tricky beasts; nothing worse, eh?’
‘No wonder the pompous arsehole doesn’t like him,’ Magnus observed, walking up to Vespasian with Ziri who handed him an old and battered travelling cloak. ‘He can’t even bring himself to acknowledge his men let alone join in with a bit of banter.’
‘I presume you’re talking about Corbulo, the former Consul.’
‘The one with a long nose who spouts hot air whom I’ve just passed in an advanced state of outrage barging people out of the way on the quay? Yeah, that’s the one.’
Vespasian shook his head, sighing, and took off his military cloak, giving it to Ziri. He looked up at the sun; it was reddening as it fell towards the western horizon. ‘Where’s Sabinus?’
Magnus grinned. ‘He’s got a bull and is waiting for sunset to sacrifice it to Mithras for the success of our mission.’
Vespasian tied the travel cloak over his lorica hamata, the chain mail tunic issued to auxiliaries. ‘Well, he’d better hurry up; I want to get going as soon as it’s dark.’
‘Get going where, though?’
‘We need to get as far downstream as we can and then cross the farmland on the other side of the river with as few people as possible noticing us and be in those hills before it gets light.’
‘Yeah, I know that, sir; what I was asking was: where are we actually going?’
‘What do you mean? You said that you knew the way.’
‘Did I?’ Magnus paused as a look of understanding slowly dawned on his face. ‘Oh! I see. You expect me to get us to the Teutoburg Forest.’
‘It’s the obvious place to start looking.’
‘It may be the obvious place to start looking but if you want me to find it then this ain’t the obvious place to start from. We were based at Noviomagus up in the north. We started by going east along the coast and then headed south through the lands of the Chauci. We got to the battle site by following a river called the Amisia.’
‘Well, that’s a start; we’ll head northeast until we find that river. Paetus has got men with him who know the country. Once we get there, you can show us the site of Arminius’ greatest victory, and we’ll send a message to Thumelicus telling him that we have something of interest to him, something of his father’s, then he’ll come; his curiosity will force him to.’
Magnus looked dubious. ‘Won’t his first reaction be to suspect a trap?’
‘Maybe; but that’s why I’m only taking six turmae with us. A man of Thumelicus’ standing will be able to muster a lot more than a hundred and eighty men; he’ll have nothing to fear from us.’
‘But we’ll have a lot to fear from him! Fucking great, we’re going to go to the site of the biggest massacre in living memory and invite a repeat performance, even if it’s on a much smaller scale.’
‘Well, you didn’t have to come.’
‘Of course I did, I always have to because I owe my life to your uncle.’
‘You’ve paid that debt off many times over by now.’
‘Perhaps,’ Magnus muttered. ‘Anyway, do you know where Thumelicus is?’
‘No.’
‘Then how are we going to get a message to him once we get there?’
Vespasian shrugged.
‘You don’t know, do you?’
‘No,’ Vespasian admitted, ‘I haven’t got that far yet.’
CHAPTER VII
‘EASY WITH HIM, lads,’ Paetus hissed as one of the Batavians’ horses started to shy whilst being led up the ramp from the boat’s open hold.
Vespasian’s fingers twitched behind his back as he watched two auxiliaries fighting to control the beast, pulling down on its halter, whilst stroking its muzzle and talking soothingly to it in their strange, unmelodic language. The words seemed to calm the animal and it eventually allowed itself to be led up the ramp and then down another, over the side of the vessel and into the shallow water just a few paces from the eastern bank.
Vespasian shivered and pulled the travel cloak tighter around his shoulders. Upriver to him the five other transports were hove to, as close as their shallow hulls could get up the river’s bank. In the thin light of a quarter-moon the silhouettes of horses and men could be seen disembarking. Each whinny, muffled shout or splash caused Vespasian to tense and peer east into the gloom; but there was nothing to see.
Once Sabinus had rejoined them, having made his sacrifice, they had sailed downriver for six hours until they had found a stretch of bank devoid of any glimmers of light from farmstead windows; but that did not mean that there were no dwellings nearby. Vespasian was anxious to get his small force ashore without it coming to the attention of the local population; he did not want news of their arrival to precede them on their journey. Although the tribes along the river lived and traded in peace with the Empire, the more inland ones were not beyond butchering even the best-guarded Roman merchants’ trains.
‘I’ve sent Ansigar and eight of the lads out to scout around whilst we finish disembarking, sir,’ Paetus informed him as another horse plunged up to its chest into the river with a worryingly loud snort.
‘Good. Can’t this be done any quieter?’
‘This is quiet; all our mounts have done this before. You’ll realise just how noisy it can be in a moment when we try and get your four horses and the spares out; they won’t like it.’
Vespasian grimaced. ‘Do it as quickly as you can, then; I’m going ashore.’
‘Probably best, sir. It won’t sound nearly so loud there, you’ll be able to relax more.’
Vespasian glared at Paetus but his back was already turned, his attention refocused on the disembarkation.
‘Coming round to Corbulo’s point of view, eh, sir?’ Magnus asked lightly, heaving his kit bag onto Ziri’s shoulder.
‘Bring mine ashore too, Ziri,’ Vespasian snapped a little more tersely than he meant to. Annoyed with himself, he walked up the ramp.
He emerged cold and wet from the river to find Sabinus already on the bank rubbing his thighs vigorously with a cloth. All around the
auxiliaries were busy saddling their horses; most were now on land.
‘Did you talk to Paetus?’ Vespasian demanded; his mood had not been improved by the dunking.
‘I did as a matter of fact and very accommodating he was too.’ Sabinus handed Vespasian his damp cloth.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that he was very grateful that I brought the subject up; he didn’t know about the debt at all and as a mark of his gratitude has waived all interest apart from the first two years and has told me to repay it as soon as I’m able; assuming that I survive this expedition, of course.’
Vespasian rubbed his arms irritably with the cloth. ‘He’s let you off thousands; I can’t believe it.’
‘I knew that you’d share my relief, brother. I’m coming to the conclusion that he’s a very generous and decent young man, just as his father was, and what’s more he comes from a powerful family and will surely be consul one day – if we don’t get him killed first. Just the sort of man I’d find useful as a son-in-law; after all, my Flavia’s eleven and I’ll be looking for a husband for her in a year or two.’
‘You’d marry your daughter to him so you could take advantage of his money?’
‘That’s what daughters are for, isn’t it?’
A pounding of hooves on wood and a shrill equine screech prevented Vespasian from expressing his opinion; he turned to see a horse rearing up at the top of the ramp. It brought its front hooves crashing down with an echoing report and then kicked out with its hind legs, catching an auxiliary’s outstretched forearm, snapping it back like a twig so that a jagged shard of bone tore through the flesh. The man screamed as he clutched his shattered limb, adding to the horse’s terror; it jumped forward half landing on the descending ramp, buckling a foreleg beneath it at an impossible angle and then rolled, with its three intact legs thrashing, shrieking into the river with a mighty splash.
‘Silence that man,’ Paetus called over the injured Batavian’s agonised groans, ‘and get a javelin into that horse and put it out of its misery.’
In the river the horse continued to struggle and bellow as half a dozen auxiliaries lined the side of the boat hefting javelins. After a moment’s pause to pick out the stricken beast’s shape amidst the turbulence it was creating, they flung their weapons. Another long screech testified to the accuracy of some of the throws; it was cut short by a gurgling and a rasping wheeze as the animal fought, unsuccessfully, to keep its head above the surface. It sank with an explosion of bubbles on the churned, moonlit water.
‘Thank the gods for that,’ Vespasian muttered as relative peace returned.
‘Perhaps I should have also sacrificed to the lares of this river,’ Sabinus said, ‘then they might not have felt compelled to take one of our horses.’
Vespasian turned and looked at his brother; there was no irony in his expression. ‘I thougt you worshipped only Mithras.’
Sabinus shrugged. ‘We’re a long way from my Lord’s birthplace; perhaps some help might …’ An agonised scream, not far inland, cut him short, and then another, the same voice but higher pitched. Finally a third that turned into a wail, lowering in tone that was then abruptly cut off. Someone, not far off, had just died in great pain.
All work on the shore and the six boats had ceased as the auxiliaries stared into the darkness, chilled by the sound whose memory seemed to echo still, uncannily, around them. Distant hoofbeats, galloping fast towards them, broke the silence.
Vespasian glanced around; most of the troopers were still in the process of readying their mounts, very few were fully armed and mounted. ‘Form up on me in two ranks on foot!’ Vespasian bellowed, drawing his sword.
The shouted command galvanised the auxiliaries into action; they unslung their oval shields from their backs and grabbed spears or swept their spathae, cavalry swords longer than an infantry gladius, from their scabbards as they ran to obey. Their comrades still aboard the boats followed Paetus’ lead, jumping into the river and wading ashore as the hoofbeats pounded closer, out of the night.
Vespasian felt Magnus’ shoulder to his right as Sabinus took up position on his left, interlocking their shields. He glanced right, past Magnus, down the line to see a wall of shields solidly formed up with Paetus at the centre and a second rank behind; some stragglers were still running up but otherwise the manoeuvre had been completed in less than a hundred heartbeats.
‘These Batavians know their business,’ Magnus muttered, ‘for cavalry, that is.’
‘Paetus! Paetus! Batavian!’ bawled a voice over the incoming hoofbeats. Their pace suddenly lessened as the shadowy figures of horsemen materialised out of the gloom; Vespasian counted eight of them.
The riders swerved around the shield wall with Ansigar in the lead. Along the line some auxiliaries began to relax their guard only to be bawled at by their decurions to raise their shields again. Ansigar pulled his horse up and dismounted. Paetus left his position and walked towards him; Vespasian and Sabinus joined them.
‘Well, decurion?’ Paetus asked.
‘I’m not sure, prefect,’ Ansigar replied, taking off his helmet and wiping his arm across his forehead. ‘One of my lads, Rothaid, suddenly wasn’t there any more; none of the boys noticed him go, he just disappeared. Then we heard the screams; they sounded to be about half a mile from where we were but they were over so quickly and we couldn’t locate them so we hurried back.’
‘Was it Rothaid, though?’
‘Screaming? Yes, we’re certain of it; but we saw nothing out there.’
‘Thank you, decurion; stand the men down and set some sentries whilst you get the rest of the horses on land.’
Ansigar saluted and led his patrol away, barking orders to resume the disembarkation.
Paetus turned to the brothers. ‘I’d like to think that we’ve just been unlucky and run into some bandits or suchlike, but there’s something not right about this.’
‘I agree,’ Sabinus said. ‘Why would bandits draw attention to themselves by taking one man from a patrol?’
‘It’s not so much that,’ Vespasian put in, ‘it’s why would they kill him in such a public way? They wanted us to hear him.’
‘Sending us a warning, you mean? But who knows that we’re here to warn us off?’
‘Precisely; we didn’t even know where we were going to land, so that rules out the idea of a traitor. So we must assume that we were either tracked down the river by people who aren’t as friendly to Rome as we would hope or—’
‘Or we have indeed been unlucky,’ Paetus cut in. ‘Either way, they didn’t challenge us whilst we were landing so we can assume that there aren’t enough of them to worry us.’
‘Yet,’ Vespasian reminded them, letting the word hang.
*
The first pale glow of dawn was touching the sky ahead of them as the column began to climb, leading their horses, up into the wooded hills beyond the flood plain. There had been no more disturbances during the disembarkation, nor had there been any sign of the men who had killed Rothaid as they crossed the plain; his body, however, had been found with his eyes gouged out and his throat cut. What had interested Vespasian about the find was that Rothaid still held a sword in his right hand but, judging by its pristine condition, had made no attempt to defend himself whilst being so terribly mutilated. Having ordered complete silence during the ride he felt unable to break his own command by asking for an explanation.
They climbed higher as the sun rose and soon there was enough light to ride without risk of their mounts stumbling and they were able to put a good few miles between themselves and the river. Paetus had chosen a couple of the auxiliaries who claimed to know the way to the Amisia to lead them, and once they had threaded their way through the range and then down into the undulating forest beyond they steered the column just east of north at the beginning of what they assured their superiors would be a six- to seven-day journey.
The forest was thickly wooded with mainly pines and firs; the underg
rowth, however, was surprisingly light. They were able to walk their horses with ease and occasionally break into a trot, something that would have been impossible, Ansigar had informed them, if they had been in the main body of the forest that stretched over two hundred miles to the south of them. As it was they had entered it at its northern tip where the trees, being more spaced out, allowed easier passage and let more light through the canopy, giving the lie to the forest’s name, which Ansigar said in his own tongue before explaining that the word meant ‘black’.
They pushed on throughout the daylight hours even though they had had no sleep the previous night. Travelling in the dark would have been impossible in these conditions and so Vespasian had decided to press on and camp at nightfall. As they journeyed further into the forest the air grew heavier and the canopy denser, creating a sense of thickening gloom. Vespasian’s breathing became laborious and he found himself constantly looking over his shoulder, peering into the massed shadowy ranks of tree-trunks, or up into the weave of boughs that seemed to press down on them with menacing intent. Judging by the muttering and the nervous looks of the Batavians he was not the only one to feel an ever-increasing threat enclosing them from all sides.
‘If it’s like this at the edge of the forest,’ Magnus grumbled, sharing Vespasian’s unease, ‘I wouldn’t like to go into the heart of it; the German gods must be very powerful there.’
‘Yes, I’m getting the impression that they’re not keen on Romans.’
‘I’m getting the impression that they’re not keen on anyone.’
Throughout the day Paetus sent out patrols in all directions but they reported back after an hour or two having seen nothing more threatening than a couple of very large wild horses, some deer and a few wild boars, two of which had not been fast enough to evade the spears of the Batavians.
As the sun fell, they stopped and made camp, setting a turma on guard in pairs around the perimeter. With the forest disappearing in an all-encompassing dark, the visual menace lessened to be replaced by eerie night-sounds: owls’ hoots, strange animal cries and wind working on groaning trees.
Rome’s Fallen Eagle Page 12
