Rome's Greatest Defeat

by Adrian Murdoch

  It was clear that imperial control was just a veneer. It says much about the state of the city that Germanicus went so far as to send Agrippina and his 2-year-old son, the future emperor Caligula, away from Cologne, to a friendly local tribe. It was a calculated and ostentatious charade designed to bring the soldiers to their senses. The stunt appears to have worked and although the details are unclear, the rebellion in Cologne began to peter out by mid-October.17

  There still remained the problem of how to punish Legion V and Legion XXI. The two brigades were, after all, the ringleaders of the original disturbances. Germanicus’ solution may have had the advantage of allowing the legions to wash their own dirty linen in private, but it is hard not to get the sense that the commander was absolving himself of all responsibility. He sent Caecina in Xanten a blunt dispatch that he was en route with a strong force; either punish the guilty or he would massacre the rebels indiscriminately.

  Caecina dealt with the problem with a decisiveness he had lacked in Cologne. He plotted with those loyal to him to butcher the mutineers. Some of the revolutionaries fought back, so when Germanicus arrived in Xanten towards the end of the month the camp was an abattoir. Attempting to draw a line under the incident, Germanicus sorrowfully concluded that this was a disaster not a cure.

  Despite the lateness of the year, it should not come as a surprise that there was now a campaign. Germanicus’ talk of avenging Varus and his three legions was in one sense a blind: this operation’s secondary purpose was revenge and restoration of Roman power across the Rhine. It was all about keeping control of his own forces. Let the soldiers – some 12,000 legionaries made up from all four brigades in Lower Germany – take out their aggression on the Germans rather than on either each other or the senior command. It is an interesting point that Germanicus also took 13,000 auxiliary infantry and 4,000 auxiliary cavalry with him, presumably as their loyalty had never been in doubt. As one German historian has it, ‘Germanicus improvised the autumn campaign to restore discipline to his legions in Lower Germany.’ Yet it did not harm his case that the tribe he had targeted was the Marsi, one of the conspirators at Teutoburg.18

  It was an unattractive if solid campaign of slaughter, a depressingly familiar approach to natives even in the twentieth century and rationalised by the colonial historians. By the end of October, he and his army set out across the River Rhine from Xanten and attacked the Marsi in the Lippe/Ruhr area. The tribe had presumed that the death of Augustus and the subsequent mutinies had meant that they were safe for that year. They were caught off-guard. Timing his arrival to a German festival, Germanicus split his army into four and then ravaged the entire area for an 80km radius. His army then returned, with comparative ease, to winter quarters. Morale had been restored.

  If the Romans were distracted for the latter part of AD 14 with domestic matters, so, too, Arminius had his own internal problems. The breach that had always been threatened in the Cheruscan high command now made itself felt in a power struggle. Inevitably the rift was over the relationship with Rome. Following his success at Kalkriese, Arminius appears to have attempted to consolidate his own position and in doing so he needed to oust his father-in-law, Segestes. Initially, at least, things appear to have gone his way and by the end of the year he had confirmed his status within the tribe, while Segestes was marginalised.

  In retrospect, that year will have seemed one of calm for the Cherusci, at least as far as their own relationship with the invaders was concerned. It was all about to change. The Roman campaigns of the next two years were driven by vengeance and the need for military exorcism. Tiberius’ post-Teutoburg caution and security imperatives were replaced with a much more aggressive stance, specifically aimed at revenge on Arminius. It is clear that Roman intelligence had absorbed reports of a division between hawks and doves in the Cheruscan camp that could be exploited if rapid action were taken.

  The winter of AD 14/15 must have been spent on logistical matters – this was no campaign taken on impulse – and it is clear that Germanicus’ aim was to break up Arminius’ coalition. First and foremost he planned to attack the three main anti-Roman tribes in turn and forcibly remind them of Roman superiority. At the same time, as the opportunity presented itself, Arminius was to be isolated from his allies. While Germanicus led the main force, Caecina was to act as a defensive buffer. He was to stop Arminius coming to his allies’ aid and to prevent the Marsi from joining in (which says much for the success of the previous year’s campaign). The weather was in Germanicus’ favour. An unseasonably dry winter meant that the Roman commander could set off early in AD 15 against one of Arminius’ southern neighbours, the Chatti. He crossed the Rhine with a massive force: all eight legions, many auxiliaries and a significant native levy.

  Germanicus rehabilitated a fort that his father had used on Mount Taunus to use as a base for the campaign. Although absolute certainty is impossible, it is generally believed that this was the camp of Friedberg. Germanicus, together with Gaius Silius, commander of the upper Rhine army, then marched on the Chatti. Germanicus caught them by surprise and killed them all. ‘So suddenly did he come on the Chatti that all the helpless because of their age or sex were at once captured or slaughtered,’ writes Tacitus.19 It seemed to have been a definitive assault. The tribe’s capital of Mattium was razed (it has not been identified, and although it has traditionally been associated with the Alterburg, near Niedenstein, this seems wrong) and those Germans who did not surrender vanished into the forest.

  There is some indication that Germanicus may have had more than retaliatory action at the back of his mind as he set out. Lucius Apronius had been ordered to follow in the army’s footsteps, building roads and bridges. This raises the possibility that Germanicus was still considering a more permanent conquest at this stage. Another high-flier, Apronius, along with Caecina and Silius, was a core member of Germanicus’ team. He was eventually to rise to a successful governorship of Africa.

  Over the winter, Roman intelligence had been able to report that the pro-war party was dominant in the Cheruscan camp. Segestes was under physical as well as political attack and had been trapped by his son-in-law in what was essentially house arrest. His base of support had not been entirely eroded, as somehow he had managed to get word to the Roman general. It is an indication of the danger in which he found himself that his son agreed to lead the diplomatic mission. Segimundus had absconded from the Altar of the Ubii in Cologne, where he had been a priest, and had joined Arminius six years earlier. Understandably, Tacitus refers to his ‘hesitation’20 at what kind of reception he could receive at the Roman camp.

  The benefits from the defection of such a high-profile Cheruscan were enough to divert Germanicus from hunting down the remaining Chatti. It was an entirely successful raid. His army wheeled north, fought its way through to the besieged Segestes and rescued him. Not only had the Romans saved an old ally, but much of the loot that had been taken from those who had fallen at Teutoburg and given to Cheruscan warriors was recovered. Best of all, the Romans had their first material success against Arminius – they captured his pregnant wife, Thusnelda. At some point over the past months, the divisions within the Cheruscan camp had become so marked that Segestes had been forced to kidnap his own daughter. The success of the raid allowed Germanicus to be magnanimous. Past sins were forgiven, while Thusnelda was locked in the gilded cage in Ravenna, rapidly becoming the place of exile for former Germanic royalty. Some months later, in Ravenna, she gave birth to a son, Thumelicus.21

  After the diversion of Cheruscan politics, Germanicus set his sights on other pro-Arminian tribes, this time the Bructeri, Arminius’ northern neighbours. Based in the general area of the town of Münster, between the Ems and the Lippe, the tribe was in the ascendant at the moment. Although nominally defeated by Tiberius a decade previously, it was a staunch ally of Arminius and had played a leading role at Teutoburg. The attack was a complete success. Germanicus planned his confrontation carefully – it was a combined as
sault, with cavalry, infantry and the fleet arriving from different directions – and the Bructeri were slaughtered. Best of all, the first of Varus’ three lost eagles was recovered: that of Legion XIX.

  The time that Germanicus spent attacking the Bructeri and, as described in the Introduction, in following his desire to bury Varus’ dead on the battlefield gave Arminius time to remobilise. In one sense, the rescue of Segestes and the capture of Thusnelda was one of the worst moves the Romans could have made. Roman interference had managed what Arminius appears to have failed to achieve in the previous year. It had unified the Cherusci behind him. Certainly his biggest coup was in convincing his uncle, Inguiomerus, formerly a supporter of Rome and an ally of Segestes, to join his cause. Internal politicking was now forgotten, as not only the Cherusci rallied to him but neighbouring tribes were recruited to his banner.

  The rest of the campaigning season was dominated by inconclusive guerrilla warfare, as Arminius harried Roman troops and Germanicus failed to tempt the Cherusci to the battlefield. Late in the season, Germanicus decided to return to winter quarters. He took his four legions and the cavalry back to camp, following the river so that he could make best use of his fleet. Two of his brigades were caught and almost wiped out by sudden high winter tides along what is now the Dutch coast. Their commander, Publius Vitellius, the grandfather of the future emperor Vitellius, had disembarked with Legion II ‘The Emperor’s Own’ and Legion XIV ‘The Twins’ so that the coast-hugging ships would have fewer difficulties in shallow waters. They were caught completely unawares. ‘Men were swept away by the waves or sucked under by eddies; beasts of burden, baggage, lifeless bodies floated about and blocked their way,’ writes Tacitus.22 After an uncomfortable night on higher ground without food, water or fire they were eventually rescued.

  This was uneventful compared to what the rest were to endure. Caecina and his four legions were sent back by the more conventional path, which had probably been in use for the past two decades. Built during the command of Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, the route dubbed ‘the Long Bridges’ was hardly ideal. ‘It was a narrow road amid vast swamps . . . on every side were quagmires of thick clinging mud or perilous with streams,’ is how it is described.23 Even allowing for Tacitean hyperbole, it does not take much imagination to consider the state of the wooden bridges after – at the very least – six years of neglect and northern European winters.

  As they marched towards the Long Bridges, the Romans realised that Arminius had anticipated their route and that the surrounding hills, normally covered in forests, were actually covered in Germans. Caecina decided to set up camp. Half of his troops were set to building a marching fort as others rebuilt the roadway.

  They were attacked throughout the afternoon, bombarded with missiles and harried whenever Arminius saw an opportunity. The terrain showed up the weaknesses of the Roman military. Bogged down in the swamp as they were, it was slippery and impossible to march. The Roman heavy armour sucked at them, slowing them down even further. Recognising this, Arminius’ men then dammed several streams to flood the already waterlogged plain. Up to their waists in water, the Romans found it impossible to throw javelins back at the Germans.

  Night brought some relief, though not for Caecina. While the Germans caroused through the night, the Roman commander suffered nightmares. In Tacitus’ chilling account he saw Quinctilius Varus, covered with blood, rising out of the swamps and calling to him. In his dream, Caecina fought him off, refusing to come to him and fighting away the old general’s hand as it stretched out to him.24 For all of the literary quality of the account, the story does have a ring of plausibility about it.

  The next morning, shaking off his nightmares, Caecina had a plan. A path between the mountains and the swamps allowed for a marching line, albeit an extended one. He formed up his four legions into what would have been a familiar hollow square: Legion I Germanica at the front, Legion XXI ‘The Predators’ and Legion V ‘The Larks’ on the left and right flanks respectively while Legion XX ‘Valiant and Victorious’ protected the army’s rear.

  Something went wrong. Possibly Legion XXI and Legion V misunderstood their orders, but they began to run rather than march towards the open ground. Certainly, given their actions during the revolt, a wilful disobeying of orders is not out of the question. Either way the baggage train was exposed, unguarded and stuck in the mud. This was the moment that Arminius chose to attack. He cut through the column, targeting the horses. As wounded and dying horses lashed out, throwing riders and trampling those on the ground, the Germans aimed for the eagles. It was a close call and not even the commander escaped unscathed. Caecina’s horse was killed under him and he was thrown; it was only the swift action of soldiers from Legion I that saved him from capture or death.

  It must have been small consolation, but the loss of much, if not all, of the baggage train almost certainly saved them. As the Germans looted the spoils, Legion I and Legion XX were able to reach the more open ground and they all dug in. It cannot have been pleasant. To start with, they were hampered in digging as they had lost some of their tools. Their tents were gone and they had no medical supplies. Cold, wet and dirty, at least they had the comfort of food – Roman legionaries habitually carried provisions on their backs.

  An episode that evening gives some idea of the fear among the Roman forces. In the night, a horse broke free of its halter and galloped through the camp. Thinking the Germans had launched a night assault and broken through their defences, the legions panicked and ‘most of them sought the Decuman gate’.25 Tacitus’ dry comment refers to the gate at the back of the camp, away from the enemy. It took Caecina, standing in the gateway, facing off his own men, to calm the soldiers down.

  Trapped, tired and tense, Caecina was in danger of re-creating his own Teutoburg battle. Indeed it was only Cheruscan disunity that saved the Romans. Arminius wanted to allow the four legions out of their camp and then ambush them again. It was the technique that had worked so well six years before and was by far the best way that had been found of neutralising Roman technical supremacy. His uncle, Inguiomerus, however, disagreed. Arguing that the Romans were all but beaten, he proposed a full-frontal assault.

  Inguiomerus’ view prevailed, a sign both that the cracks in Cheruscan unity had been papered over rather than filled and that Arminius’ position was not as unassailable as many have presumed. The Germans attacked. It was exactly what Caecina had been hoping for. With only limited resources he distributed the horses that remained with the army to the best of the cavalry. When Arminius and his men attacked the camp, the Romans rallied, their trumpets blaring. The Germans found themselves trapped in the fort. Attacked from the rear by galvanised Roman troops, they were routed and slaughtered throughout the day. Although Arminius himself was unscathed, his uncle was severely wounded.

  Caecina’s return to quarters was a moment made for celluloid. Although that last battle had seen off the German threat, the Roman troops that had been left in Xanten had worked themselves into a panic, as only intermittent and unclear news reached them. First, they had been terrified that Legion II ‘The Emperor’s Own’ and Legion XIV ‘The Twins’ had been wiped out with Publius Vitellius. Now, just as six years earlier, a large and furious German army led by Arminius seemed to be marching on Gaul and the only camp in their path was Xanten.

  As Roman soldiers went to pieces and tried to destroy the bridge across the Rhine, it took Germanicus’ wife, Agrippina, to stop them. She stood on the German side of the Rhine, welcoming the troops back in person. Over the next weeks she became the lady of the lamp, distributing clothes and medicines to those who had lost everything or were wounded.

  For all the symbolism of the moment, it was one which was to have repercussions. It is certainly indicative that the next we hear of Aulus Caecina Severus is six years later, when he proposed legislation banning wives from accompanying their husbands on campaign. ‘A train of women involves delays through luxury in peace and through panic in war, and c
onverts a Roman army on the march into the likeness of a barbarian progress. Not only are women feeble and unequal to hardship but, when they have liberty, they are spiteful, intriguing and greedy for power,’ he said.26

  He had presumably spent the previous years suffering jibes about how his army had been saved by a woman. But rather more seriously, Agrippina’s actions had not gone unnoticed in Rome. Were the emperor’s troops still so unsettled that it had taken a woman to stop a near mutiny and certain panic? Did this woman now have more influence with the soldiers than the officers? Than the generals? And all of these questions and mutterings around the emperor were fanned by jealous advisers.

  To halt the spread of frontier nervousness, the year’s campaign was portrayed as a victory. Lucius Apronius, Aulus Caecina Severus and Gaius Silius were all decorated and their commander was granted a triumph in Rome. But apart from the prosaic fact that Germanicus had come no closer to capturing or defeating Arminius, he had suffered major losses and his deputy had almost ended up a second Varus. Even more disturbing had been the behaviour of ‘The Predators’ and ‘The Larks’. The time that Germanicus spent that winter tending to the pastoral needs of his men suggests that he was not unaware of these potentially explosive ramifications either. Indeed the only person for whom the year might be deemed a success was Arminius. Although he had been thwarted in his endgame, he had both won a great deal of Roman booty and inflicted significant losses on them.

  For the Romans, the following year had to be decisive. The strain on the resources of the western empire was beginning to tell and Tiberius had more immediate problems on the other side of the empire in Armenia to worry about. While the Rhine army was being rearmed and remobilised, Germanicus did not neglect intelligence matters. In the meantime, the defection of Segestes’ brother had been arranged and Segimerus (not Arminius’ father) and his son were escorted to Cologne. Like Segimundus, the latter was unwilling to go over to the Romans. As an active participant at Kalkriese, indeed one of those who had defiled Varus’ corpse, he had concerns about his reception, but again propaganda benefits for the Romans outweighed thoughts of revenge.