Germania (Veteran of Rome Book 5)

by William Kelso

‘So one of your men has deserted,’ Adalwolf said with a patient smile, ‘and you have come here, broken the curfew, to find him and take him back. That is quite a risk you have taken. I know the punishment for desertion. This soldier must mean a lot to you. I am impressed. You have courage.’

  ‘I don’t leave my men behind,’ Fergus growled. ‘We are a unit. We look out for each other. We trust each other. Now do you know anything about Tiber or am I wasting my time here?”

  Adalwolf sighed and glanced at the two naked women.

  ‘Your man is hiding out near the Roman ships, down by the water front,’ he said turning to look at the floor. ‘He is hoping to get aboard one of the galleys. He has been there for a few hours now.’

  Fergus stared at Adalwolf, trying to read his mind, but the German merchant looked like he was telling the truth.

  ‘Thank you,’ Fergus replied at last as he flipped the coins at Adalwolf. ‘We will be going now.’

  Smoothly catching the coins in his hand, Adalwolf turned and nodded at the men standing beside the door.

  ‘One more thing,’ the amber merchant called out in his accented Latin, ‘tell me your name and unit, Roman?’

  Fergus hesitated.

  ‘What do you what to know that for,’ Aledus hissed. ‘Do you think we are going to give you our names so that you can report us to Hadrian?’

  ‘I am just curious,’ Adalwolf replied with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Let’s say that your loyalty to your comrade has impressed me.’

  ‘You can tell the Legate Hadrian that my name is Fergus,’ Fergus snapped as he pushed his way towards the door. ‘And that you have had the pleasure of doing business with the Second Company of the Second Cohort of the Twentieth Legion. The same company that will come back here and burn this place to the ground if I find that you have been lying to me.’

  ***

  ‘Now why did you have to tell that prick our names,’ Aledus growled as he and Fergus stomped off into the darkness towards where the Roman galleys lay drawn up along the river-bank.

  ‘Don’t be daft. He’s not going to report us,’ Fergus snapped in reply. ‘Did you not hear what he said? Did you not see how easily he convinced those Germans to let us pass? That man has some power and influence. I bet he was telling us the truth. He’s a merchant, he’s interested in profit. Why would he report us, what possible advantage would that give him? If he is indeed a friend of the Legate, then he won’t be interested in wasting his time on common soldiers like us. And anyway we will just deny everything.’

  ‘But you still didn’t have to take the risk. It was still foolish to give him your name,’ Aledus hissed in an annoyed voice. ‘And you owe me one Denarius.’

  ‘I wanted to show him that I was not afraid of him,’ Fergus said sharply, “I don’t like to be threatened. Alright, so there it is, now shut up and keep your eyes open. Dawn is not far away. We don’t have much time.’

  Aledus muttered something under his breath and turned to glare into the darkness. Close by the river, water was gently lapping up against the low, muddy bank and in the distance a hunting horn blasted away.

  ‘The boys from the First are none too happy with Hadrian,’ Aledus muttered sulkily as the two of them approached the small, river harbour. ‘They told me that Hadrian has only recently been appointed as their Legate and that he is a second rate commander. Before he was made Legate he was part of the Emperor’s retinue. Apparently he was an up and coming man, until he fell out favour with the Emperor. The boys from the First think he has been posted to Bonna as punishment by Trajan but no one knows why. That’s the rumour anyway.’

  ‘That’s fascinating,’ Fergus growled tiredly. ‘Now keep your eyes open for Tiber. I am sick of tramping around all night looking for that miserable fuck.’

  Before them the outlines of the Roman galleys suddenly loomed up out of the darkness. The four galleys with single masts and small deck houses, gently rose and sank in the swell of the river current and the thick, mooring ropes creaked and groaned. On board, the sails had been furled and the oar holes in the sides of the vessels were empty. Fergus paused and turned to look around him. In the pale moon light, the Rhine stretched away into the gloom. It was easily the largest and widest river he’d ever seen. The shore of the river around him looked deserted and apart from the creaking ships and the lapping water he could hear nothing.

  ‘Tiber,’ he hissed loudly. ‘Tiber, where are you. It’s us, Fergus and Aledus.’

  From the darkness, there was no answer.

  ‘Tiber, you prick,’ Aledus called out softly. ‘We have been looking for you all night. Now come out and show yourself. We’re your mates.’

  Again the night remained silent. Fergus sighed and cast about in the darkness.

  ‘Tiber,’ he called out. ‘We’re here to take you back to the barracks. Whatever issues you have, deserting is not going to solve them. Titus is going to punish all of us if you are not present at roll call at dawn. Come on back with us. No one has noticed your absence yet. All of this can still be forgotten. We’re your mates. We wouldn’t be out here if we weren’t worried about you.’

  Suddenly Fergus heard movement from near the water’s edge. Then in the moonlight a figure appeared.

  ‘I am here, Fergus,’ a sour and sullen voice muttered.

  And a moment later Tiber appeared from out of the gloom looking dishevelled and glum.

  Fergus sighed in relief as he caught sight of him. Then with an annoyed grunt he reached out with his hand and firmly grasped hold of the young man’s chin and vigorously shook Tiber’s head.

  ‘Don’t you ever fucking do this again,’ Fergus hissed angrily. ‘You have no idea of how much shit the rest of us have had to endure because of you. I am not going to report this, but do it again and I won’t be so lenient, got that?’

  In the gloom Tiber nodded glumly.

  ‘What’s the matter with you,’ Aledus said in a concerned voice as he grasped hold of Tiber’s shoulder. ‘What got into to your head to make you do something stupid like this?’

  ‘I was homesick,’ Tiber muttered.

  ***

  The company stood in perfect formation in front of their barracks. The ten rows of eight legionaries were clad in their short-sleeved, white tunics and were staring straight ahead into space, their straight arms held stiffly against their sides. It was early morning and Titus, clad in full armour and wearing his red-plumed helmet and backed up by the signifer holding up the company standard, stood in front of his company glaring at his men as Furius silently and efficiently went down the ranks checking that all were present and correct. As the Optio came down the ranks he paused in front of Aledus and frowned.

  ‘Looking a bit tired today,’ Furius exclaimed suspiciously, as he inspected Aledus from top to toe. ‘What was it this time? Drinking or gambling?”

  Fergus turned his head ever so slightly and glanced down the squad line. They were all there, including Tiber who was staring stoically into space. Their mess mate’s absence seemed to have gone unnoticed and the whole squad had been mightily relieved when, just before dawn, Fergus had finally slipped him back into their barracks. Aledus however looked exhausted and was struggling to keep his eyes open.

  ‘Couldn’t sleep Sir,’ Aledus replied with an effort. ‘Afraid of the dark Sir.’

  ‘Afraid of the dark,” Furius repeated as his face darkened. He shook his head in disgust. ‘You should be afraid of me boy if I catch you sleeping whilst on parade.’ And with that Furius continued on down the line. When he had finally completed the inspection the Optio strode up to Titus and saluted smartly.

  ‘Company all present and correct Sir,’ Furius cried out in a loud voice.

  The Centurion acknowledged his Optio and raised his vine staff in the air.

  ‘Today we shall practice what we have been practising all week,’ Titus bellowed. ‘We will start with a run of two laps around the fortress walls. This will be followed by physical exercises and a talk from a doctor
on how best to treat wounds and infections. Pay attention to what this surgeon has to say. We are marching to war and his advice may save your life. In the afternoon, there will be weapons drill and training, individual, pairs, squad versus squad and at the end of the day we shall engage with the First company, in a company versus company mock battle which I do not want to lose.’

  Titus paused and looked around at his men. “Now I am sure that you will all be glad to hear that tomorrow at dawn we and our colleagues from the First Legion will be leaving this fortress and will be starting on our march southwards to the Dacian frontier. It’s going to be a long journey, several weeks at least, so make sure that all your kit is in good working order by dawn tomorrow. So, because this is our last night at Castra Bonnensis, our battlegroup commander and Legate of the First Legion, Hadrian, has decided to give you all the evening to yourselves. The curfew has been lifted until the second hour after dark and you are free to spend your money in town and say goodbye to your favourite whores.’ Titus paused and glared at his men and Fergus tried desperately to stifle a yawn. ‘Rome conquers all,’ the Centurion cried out.

  As the company fell out and the men began to trudge towards the southern gate of the vast legionary base in preparation for their morning run, Furius however caught Fergus by the arm and pulled him aside. The Optio and second in command looked serious.

  ‘Titus wanted me to have a word with you,’ Furius said quietly. ‘It’s about that matter yesterday with the lawyer and the allegations against you.’ Furius sighed and then affectionately patted Fergus on his shoulder. ‘Seems that some of the men from the other squads are willing to speak up for you in your defence. I don’t know what has changed from yesterday; then no one wanted to come forward. But it means that for the moment you are off the hook. Titus has already spoken with the lawyer and his superior officers and he has managed to get the whole thing buried.’ Conspiratorially Furius leaned in closer to Fergus. ‘Just between you and me, but I think that lawyer annoyed the hell out of Titus. The old man doesn’t want some pen pusher interfering with the running of his company and treating one of his NCO’s like shit. But when we return to Deva there may still be some questions to answer. Alright, understood, Fergus?’

  ‘Understood Sir,’ Fergus said quickly.

  Furius took a step backwards and examined Fergus. Then he frowned.

  ‘You look exhausted,’ the Optio growled. ‘Just like Aledus. What’s the matter with your squad today? No,’ Furius said with a sudden shake of his head. ‘Actually I really don’t want to know what you get up to. Just stay out of trouble.’

  Fergus swayed lightly on his feet as he watched Furius walk away. Then two of his fellow squad leaders were coming towards him. Fergus acknowledged them with a little nod.

  ‘We heard about Tiber,’ one of the Decanus said quietly. ‘And we heard about what you and Aledus did about it. That was a decent thing to do Fergus. Risky but decent. The men like it. We’ll put in a good word for you about these allegations, whatever Fronto says.’

  Chapter Eighteen – The German Frontier

  (Late September AD 105)

  The rhythmic tramp of the legionaries’ iron studded boots on the stone road was so familiar that Fergus no longer noticed it. The noise drowned out everything else and the annoying dust, kicked up by the marching column had gotten everywhere, in his mouth, hair, throat, eyes, ears and under his tunic. The battlegroup of around 8,000 men was strung out along the road, the men’s boots kicking up the dust as eight abreast, they took up the whole width of the paved road. It was noon and Fergus, clutching his large legionary shield encased in its protective leather cover, strode along on the extreme right-hand position of the eight-man squad.

  His white focale soldier’s scarf, was tightly wound around his neck to stop his armour from chafing and Galena’s iron amulet dangled from around his neck. On his head he was wearing a standard infantry-man’s helmet with wide, curved, cheek-guards. Suspended over Fergus’s shoulder on a wooden pole, swaying as he strode along were; his pack; entrenching tools; grain ration; cup; spoon and bronze cooking pot. The sixty pounds of equipment jangled and clanged against each other. The pole had been tied to the shaft of his two, throwing spears, their long and narrow iron spear-heads, pointing upwards. Wearily Fergus reached up and wiped his forehead with his arm. His face, arms and lower legs were a deep brown and slightly sunburnt and his armour was dirty and stained and, despite the cool temperature, he was covered in beads of sweat that ran down his dust-covered cheeks.

  They had been marching on the road for more than six weeks now, without a single day’s rest. The long journey had taken a toll on the company, with six men forced to continue on with the baggage train due to sprained ankles, exhaustion and other injuries. But at least none of the dropouts had been from his squad, Fergus thought with grim satisfaction. His boys were holding their own. And there had been more good news, for that morning, as they had prepared to set out from their marching camp on the outskirts of Vindobona, Vienna, Titus had gathered the company together and had told them that their journey was finally coming to an end. They would be reaching their new temporary home by nightfall, the Centurion had assured them.

  Stoically Fergus stared at the equipment packs of the men from the next squad who were marching just in front of him. Some of the legionaries seemed to have modified their uniforms to keep out bitter northern winds and others were wearing white woollen socks on their feet. And there was not a man whose uniform was not torn or worn out in some manner. Up ahead, the company was led by Titus, easily distinguishable by his red-plumed helmet and the signifer holding up the proud company standard. And just in front of the two officers were the rear ranks of the First Company of the Second Cohort.

  A few civilians and ox drawn wagons, driven off the road by the marching column, stood in the fields beside the road, staring patiently at the soldiers as they waited for them to pass so that they could resume their journey. As the company reached higher ground, Fergus turned to peer down the slope at the broad river whose swampy, low-lying bank, lay half a mile away. The Danube had been their companion for the past few weeks now and the road had broadly followed its course in an easterly direction, sometimes veering inland, but they had never spent a day without glimpsing its placid waters. Fergus shook his head in silent amazement. He had thought the Rhine had been big but the Danube was even bigger. The long list of unfamiliar sounding Roman towns and forts through which the battlegroup had marched, Augusta Vindelicorum, Castra Regina, Batavis, Ovilava, Cetium and Vindobona had all been on or near the Danube, and the further east they’d gone the wider the river had become. And there had been another surprise, for only yesterday, as they had marched past an auxiliary fort on the river at Asturis, KlosterNeuburg, Fergus had learnt from a civilian selling water beside the road, that the auxiliary cohort stationed at the fort were none other than the Second Batavian Cohort, his father’s old unit. But there had been no time or opportunity to see if any of the Batavians remembered Marcus.

  From the front of the column, a sudden trumpet-blast rang out and a moment later Titus’s loud bellowing voice was crying out.

  ‘We rest alongside the road. Fifteen minutes,’ the Centurion shouted. Silently the formation of heavily-laden troops came to a halt, broke up and started to drift to the edge of the stone road. As the legionaries wearily lowered their shields and marching packs onto the ground and reached for their water pouches, Fergus dumped his equipment beside his mess-mates, stretched and rubbed his shoulder. Along the side of the road as far as the eye could see, the fields were filled with soldiers sitting, standing and lying down in the grass. Fergus turned and gazed down the hill towards the Danube. The river was indeed getting wider the further east they went. To the east, across the open, deserted meadows he could make out a large dark, conifer-forest, which seemed to stretch away to the horizon. Along the river bank he suddenly noticed two watch towers, spaced around a mile apart. The squat, square-shaped timber towers, three fl
oors high and protected by a square, wooden palisade, had a balustrade on the third floor that went right around the tower. The viewing platform, which afforded the sentries a 360-degree view, was covered by the distinctive overhanging roof. Slowly Fergus studied the river bank. There were more watch towers in the distance. It had been the same all along the river Rhine too. The frontier zone, the Limes, was the most heavily fortified area Fergus had ever seen and he and his comrades had marvelled at the vast network of military fortifications, roads, forts, watchtowers, signal-towers, frontier towns, fort-lets and supply depots. All manned and patrolled by thousands upon thousands of legionaries and auxiliaries from across the whole Empire. The Roman static defences, which sealed off the two river frontiers in depth, were like nothing he had ever seen before and, as their journey along the frontier zone had continued, Fergus had started to appreciate the sheer scale, interconnectedness and decades of planning and building that must have gone into these impressive-looking fortifications. The experience had left Fergus in little doubt that no part of the river frontier was not being watched by Roman eyes. Nor was all the activity limited to one bank of the river, for on their march they’d seen Roman forts and patrols on the other barbarian side too.

  ‘What would I give to have a swim in that river,’ Aledus muttered as he came and stood beside Fergus. ‘It’s going to feel good to wash this stink away. Gods, I hope they have a bath house where we are going.’

  ‘Not far to go now,’ Fergus muttered absentmindedly as he reached up to his neck and fiddled with the iron amulet that Galena had given him.

  The two of them turned, as they heard the angry bellow of an ox. Coming towards them along the road, was a slow plodding convoy of oxen and horse-drawn wagons. The drivers of the baggage train, seated high up on the front of their carts, ignored the thousands of legionaries lining the side of the road. Behind them, piled up high in the wagons were the battle group’s supplies, disassembled artillery and heavy equipment and sitting, sprawled across the sacks, barrels, amphorae and equipment of all kinds, were a motley assortment of stragglers and sick soldiers who had been forced to drop out from the march. Fergus and Aledus stared at the plodding convoy in silence. Filtering alongside the convoy towards them was a large troop of German Numerii, mounted irregulars, riding along the road in single file. As the Germanic horsemen drew level, Fergus peered at them keenly. They were some of the most exotic warriors he’d seen. The battle-group had picked up the detachment of Numerii at Mogontiacum and the savage-looking German tribesmen, with their beards and horned helmets were armed per their own individual preference and only the presence of the Roman liaison-officer, riding at their head, indicated that the unit was part of the Roman army. As the mounted irregulars trotted away down the road, Fergus turned back to gaze at the Danube and grunted as he caught sight of a Roman galley, rowing downstream. The warship’s long bank of oars moved in perfect silent unison as the ship sped through the water like some strange wooden insect that was out hunting for food.