Ben Kane: Eagles at War

‘My sincere thanks, sir.’

‘A cohort should be more than sufficient. I’ll have a word with Vala. He can ensure that the senior centurion in charge of the men is a solid type.’

Tubero flushed a little. ‘I don’t need anyone to hold my hand, sir.’

‘Let me be the judge of that, tribune. That the imperial peace should continue in Germania is my responsibility, not yours.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Tubero, the reluctance loud in his voice. ‘Had you anyone in mind?’

‘As it happens, I have – a senior centurion called Tullus. Have you come across him yet?’

‘No, sir.’ Tubero somehow conveyed in the two words his scorn for those lower in rank than he.

Varus began to grow a little irritated. ‘Two things, tribune. The first is that it behoves you to make the acquaintance of every cohort commander in the Eighteenth. In an ideal world, you would also get to know every centurion. It’s not been long since you arrived, yet you ought at least to have heard of Tullus. He’s a highly decorated, well-thought-of officer, with more than twenty-five years’ service under his belt. Everyone esteems him, from Legate Vala to the lowest ranker. I’ve heard it said that he’s one of the best-loved officers in the legion.’

Like so many youths, Tubero could affect a disinterested look to perfection, thought Varus, his temper rising. ‘You will treat Tullus with the respect he deserves. Clear?’

Tubero cleared his throat. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Secondly, a word of advice. Going about with your nose in the air while you’re here will earn you few friends, and more than one enemy. Those of lower station have to obey you, but if you treat them like dirt, they will make your life difficult. Orders will be followed at the slowest pace possible, or “forgotten”, or misplaced. Do you understand?’

‘I do, sir,’ muttered Tubero.

‘Good. You’ll receive your orders for the patrol by nightfall. Dismissed.’ Varus’ acknowledgment of Tubero’s salute was curt. When they were alone, he looked at Aristides. ‘The young always know best, eh?’

‘It has ever been thus, sir.’

Varus sighed. ‘I was the same, I suppose, and so were you. If he’s tempered in the right way, Tubero will probably make a fine soldier.’

‘Indeed, sir.’

‘I’ll dictate Tubero’s and Tullus’ orders later. For now, we had best finish with this damn lot’ – Varus slapped the stack of documents – ‘or we’ll still be here at dawn.’

Late-afternoon sun bathed the clearing where Arminius and his men had stopped, a short distance from the road that led east from Vetera to the fort of Aliso. The unit’s hobbled horses were grazing beyond the cluster of lean-tos and tents. Piles of equipment were stacked close by: standards, helmets, mail shirts, swords, spears and shields. Some of the warriors sat about on their blankets, talking and cooking, while others wrestled with one another or gathered fuel and water. From a nearby birch, a blackbird shrilled its indignation at the intruders on its territory.

Arminius was sitting with several men by the fire outside his lean-to when a sentry arrived, looking excited. ‘Maelo is here,’ he announced.

‘Bring him to me.’ Arminius had been expecting his second-in-command, who had left Ara Ubiorum a few days after him. The warrior hurried off, and Arminius leaned over the cauldron that was suspended from a tripod above the flames. The venison stew within was from a deer that he’d brought down with an arrow some hours before. Its butchered carcase was still hanging from a branch on the nearest tree.

‘Ho, Arminius!’ called a voice. Maelo stalked up, and he and Arminius embraced. The other warriors didn’t rise, but they greeted him with respect. Brown-haired, Maelo was of medium build, but he was as solid as a block of stone. He leaned over the pot. ‘It smells good. What is it, venison?’

‘Aye. We’ve been hunting.’ Arminius indicated the carcase.

After a little talk about the day’s sport, Maelo’s expression grew serious. ‘Which chieftains did you manage to speak to?’ he asked in a low voice.

‘Only those of the Chatti and the Usipetes,’ Arminius replied.

‘There’ll be time enough to talk to the other tribes later, once the legions march east. How did you fare?’

Arminius’ eyes flickered at the others present, and back to Maelo.

Maelo took his meaning. ‘Let’s take a walk.’

‘Yes.’ Arminius stirred the stew, before tasting a spoonful. ‘It’s good. Don’t let it burn,’ he ordered one of his men. He scooped up two lengths of fishing line and hooks from the entrance to his lean-to. ‘Follow me,’ he said to Maelo. ‘There’s a stream not far off where we might catch some bream, even a salmon if we’re lucky.’

‘Salmon as well as venison? Lead on,’ said Maelo.

They walked a distance from the men before Arminius spoke again. ‘You shouldn’t have said a word until we were alone. They mix with Roman soldiers all the time!’

‘Every one of them is a warrior of your own damn clan, Arminius,’ protested Maelo.

Arminius’ frown eased, but then returned. ‘Imagine, though, what might happen when we’re on the other side of the river, and they’re on the piss in the inns and catching the pox in the whorehouses. A man’s tongue loosens when he’s got a bellyful of wine, or a whore has sucked him dry. Most people don’t pay any attention to drunken gossip, but it would only take one filthy Roman to hear something suspicious for word to reach Varus. All our hard work would be undone, just like that.’

‘I won’t mention it again.’

Arminius clapped him on the shoulder. He trusted Maelo as few others; the man had saved his life more than once.

Reaching the stream, they sat, baited their hooks and tossed the lines into the water. ‘Tell me then!’ demanded Maelo. ‘How were you received? Do you bring good news or bad?’

‘For the most part, it’s good. The Chatti didn’t take much convincing, which was no surprise. I think their chieftains might have been planning something. I was accused of being an upstart Cheruscan, and trying to steal their thunder. I kept calm, and praised them to the heavens as mighty warriors, and told them that they’d be free to do as they wished once the battle started.’

‘Will they wait?’

‘I think so. Their priests said that as long as the omens continued to be good, the Chatti would do well by rising against Rome with us. One of their oldest chiefs spoke in my favour, saying that I knew the empire’s ways, and how its soldiers fought.’ Arminius’ grey eyes took on a darker, colder colour. ‘That I would spring the best ambush, which would cause the most casualties.’

‘And so you will, brother!’ Maelo agreed. ‘Varus likes you. He trusts you. When you fill his ears with tales of a tribal uprising, he’ll lead his army off the Roman road just as we have talked about.’

‘I need at least four tribes on our side first,’ said Arminius, chewing a nail. ‘Varus won’t march east of the Rhenus without two to three legions at his back.’

‘We have three tribes already.’

‘Two.’

‘The Usipetes weren’t convinced by your plan?’

‘I thought at first that the chieftains would agree, but when they took a vote, the majority voted against joining us.’

‘Pah! Was it because of their dislike of the Chatti?’

‘That was part of it only. I persuaded them that they need not have anything to do with each other. They could camp apart, and fight in different areas. It was more because their lands run right up to the bridge to Vetera.’

‘When the legions cross the river in anger, it’s their people who die first, and their settlements that are burned.’