Ben Kane: Eagles at War

A second sentry post stood some five hundred paces away, over the widest section of the river. Being on the German side, it was a good deal larger than its fellow on the near bank, and held half a century of legionaries. As Tullus drew near to the bridge’s end, an ox-drawn cart hove into view. The pair of beasts pulling it seemed most unhappy, bellowing and refusing to walk in a straight line. His view was obstructed as a trader leading two wagons full of dead-eyed slaves passed by. By the time he could see again, the cart driver – a soldier by his appearance – had been forced to take his vehicle off the road. Some of the men from the sentry post had gathered to watch. Their rude comments reached Tullus’ ears. ‘Call yourself a legionary?’ ‘You can’t even control two damn bullocks!’

‘Piss off!’ retorted the man. ‘It’s not me that has them agitated, it’s the smell of the damn bear.’

Tullus could feel his legionaries’ gaze moving, as his was, to the rough-hewn cage that was tethered to the cart. The soldier and his companions were ursarii , whose job was to trap bears that could be used in the wooden amphitheatre which stood outside the camp. Beast hunts were an ever-popular form of entertainment for the garrison. To ensure a regular supply of animals, it had long been the practice to delegate soldiers to catch bears, wolves and deer in the forests east of the river. In Tullus’ mind, hunting was far more enjoyable, but the displays were an easy way to keep the troops happy, and that mattered.

‘Come on, Jupiter, the bear can’t touch you. Easy, Mars!’ said the ursarius , rubbing the bullocks’ heads in turn. ‘Nearly there. Just three bridges, and the vicus, and you’ll be back in your pen.’

Tullus forgot the ursarius’ woes as he greeted the officer in charge of the outpost. Their conversation had only just begun, however, before it was interrupted by the bawling of oxen.

‘Excuse me,’ said Tullus. He took a couple of steps towards the cart. ‘Soldier!’

Despite the clamour of his beasts, the sweating ursarius heard him. He threw off a quick salute. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Name?’

‘Cessorinius Ammausias, sir. Ursarius to the Eighteenth.’

‘Why in Hades’ name are your oxen so panicked?’

‘These are a new pair of oxen, sir. It’s their first time with a bear in the cage. They’ll be all right after a little rest, after I’ve talked to them.’

Several comments were hurled about Ammausias’ relationship with his cattle, and he bunched his fists.

It wasn’t the ursarius’ fault, thought Tullus. ‘Enough,’ he cried, raising his vitis.

The jibes died away.

Ammausias threw him a grateful look. ‘The bear will put on a good spectacle, sir. The brute is half again as big as any I’ve seen.’

‘In that case, it should impress,’ said Tullus, wondering how dangerous it would have been to hunt the bear.

A clatter of hooves on the road announced the arrival of a troop of German horsemen perhaps sixty strong. Cloaked, bearded, armed with shields and spears, they trotted towards the bridge in a disorganised mob. The behaviour wasn’t uncommon, and Tullus rolled his eyes at the guard officer. ‘They can wait until I get my men off the bridge. It’s our road, not theirs.’

‘I’ll stop them, sir,’ said the officer, stepping forward.

Before he could say a word, events took on a life of their own. This time, it wasn’t the oxen that grew alarmed, but the bear. As some of the tribesmen rode up to the side of the cage for a better look, it launched itself at the bars, snapping and growling. Jupiter and Mars took instant fright. The lead rope was ripped from a startled Ammausias’ hands and he was thrown to one side as the oxen barged down the gravelled embankment by the roadside. Their angle of descent forced the cart to take a different path to theirs, which unbalanced it at once. Within a few heartbeats, it had overturned. Wood splintered, oxen bellowed and Ammausias cursed in vain.

For all that he was in full armour, with almost eighty legionaries at his back, Tullus’ heart skipped a beat as the bear burst free from the wreckage of the cage. Ammausias had not been exaggerating. It was a magnificent beast, with dense brown-yellowish fur and a large, rounded head with small ears. Yet for all its size, the bear wanted nothing more than to escape. Ignoring the oxen, and the crowd of watching soldiers, it lumbered down the slope towards the nearest stand of trees.

‘Damn tribesmen,’ Ammausias cried.

Fresh laughter broke out among those on the bridge, and Tullus smiled despite himself.

‘Fetch the nets and ropes,’ Ammausias called to his companions. ‘We might still have a chance of catching it.’

Rather you than me, thought Tullus. Chasing down a large, angry bear, and then trying to restrain it, was a fearsome prospect. Even if the hunters succeeded, there was the tricky matter of transporting the beast to the camp. The cage was smashed beyond repair.

He hadn’t expected the German horsemen to do anything other than look on in amusement. Urged on by their leader, however, a broad-shouldered man with a black mane of hair, they broke up and rode after the bear.

‘This is more entertainment than I get in days of sentry duty, sir,’ said the guard officer, chuckling.

‘It’s more than I get too,’ replied Tullus. ‘But it doesn’t seem right that we’re standing by while the Germans help to catch the creature.’

‘They’re the ones that scared the bear, sir.’

‘All the same, it reflects badly on us if we do nothing.’ Tullus turned his head. ‘Fenestela! Get up here.’

Leaving his optio in charge of the patrol, Tullus led fifteen men off the road, following the direction taken by the bear. To his surprise, the Germans had already cornered the beast by the time they had caught up. The riders had driven it out of the shelter of a group of birch trees, and surrounded it in a loose circle of horses and inward-pointing spears. Every time it tried to flee, it was driven back by fierce charges from the warriors. Growling with rage, the bear roamed to and fro, probing their defences to no avail. Ammausias was conferring with the Germans’ leader; his companions stood by, nets in hand.

Tullus stalked up, unnoticed.

‘Can you catch it?’ demanded the German in accented Latin.

‘We’ve done it once, so we can do it again,’ asserted Ammausias. ‘It’s roping the brute tight enough to carry it as far as the amphitheatre that will prove dangerous.’

‘I can always order my men to back off,’ said the German with a smile.

‘No!’

‘I jest with you.’

Ammausias let out a rueful chuckle.

Tullus cleared his throat. ‘Can I be of help?’

Looking pleased, Ammausias glanced from Tullus to the German, who smiled, and back again. ‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir. Your men could strengthen the circle, using their shields to fill the gaps between the horsemen.’

‘Very good. You’ll do the rest?’

‘We’ll net him as soon as your soldiers are in place, sir,’ replied Ammausias, watching the bear. ‘Best move fast, though. Soon he’ll charge his way out, or get speared as he tries to do so.’

Tullus issued orders to his soldiers. ‘Do your best not to get injured, brothers,’ he urged, eliciting nervous laughs. Unslinging his own shield and stepping into the ring of men and horses, Tullus threw back his shoulders. They were here now. They would get it done.

To his relief, the bear was soon trapped. The moment that everyone had taken up his position, Ammausias and his comrades went into action. As one man distracted the bear by taunting it with a spear, the others crept in on it from behind. An angry charge at its tormentor was brought short by a well-flung rope that landed around its neck. That was drawn taut. A large weighted net followed, covering the bear from head to foot. It snapped, and ripped at the netting with its front paws, but soon entangled itself. Several men darted in, more cords in their hands. Tullus watched in amazement as they seized first one back paw and then the other, slipping loops of rope over the bear’s limbs and securing them with running knots. One soldier got clawed on the arm, but his was the only wound suffered as the bear was trussed up like a giant hen for the pot.