Ben Kane - Eagles at War

‘Arminius is a clever bastard, sir,’ said Tullus, regretting yet again his failure to persuade Varus of the Cheruscan’s treachery, and that he hadn’t been given a chance to slay Arminius during the ambush. ‘I think you’re right. My servant – the warrior who led us here – heard enemy tribesmen talking about burning the camps east of the Rhenus.’

Everyone looked unhappy at this, but unsurprised. Caedicius nodded. ‘In that case, our decision has already been made. We must break out of here and flee to Vetera, as soon as possible. Gods grant that we have rain, or even a storm, in the next few nights. That would provide a diversion.’

‘What about the civilians, sir?’ asked one of the senior centurions.

Tullus had seen the barracks that had been given over to the inhabitants of the nearby settlement, but he had no idea how many of them had taken refuge in the camp.

‘I’m not leaving them to be butchered, or enslaved,’ said Caedicius, frowning. ‘They come with us.’

Doing this would make their escape that much harder, but no one protested, least of all Tullus, picturing the nameless woman dying before him … and her child, who yet lived. They listened to Caedicius’ plan, which involved departing in the middle of the night, using the same gate through which Tullus had entered Aliso. The two turmae of cavalry would lead the way, acting as scouts and vanguard both. One cohort would come next, then the injured and the civilians, guarded by the survivors of the battle, with Caedicius and the second cohort taking up the rear. It was a simple plan, and risky in the extreme. A single enemy sentry could be their undoing, and every man knew it. Yet their other option – to remain behind the camp’s walls, awaiting further attacks – had an even more inevitable feel to it. They had to try.

‘If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d like to march with you, at the back,’ said Tullus.

Caedicius studied him for a moment. ‘You and your men are exhausted. There’s no shame-’

‘We need to do this, sir,’ said Tullus. ‘Please.’

Caedicius sighed. ‘Very well.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ This way, thought Tullus, he and his men might be able to salvage a little pride. Dying was yet a distinct possibility. If it were to happen, he would be facing the enemy.

He would run no longer.

After the wind and rain that had lashed Varus’ army, Tullus had never thought he would welcome such weather again. Late the following afternoon, however, he was grateful to see dark clouds massing on the northern horizon, and to feel a rising wind carry them towards Aliso. Their chance to escape was coming, because Fortuna had sweet-talked Jupiter into conjuring up a storm. That meant the goddess still wanted her bull, Tullus hoped, quelling a sneaking fear that any lightning that resulted could give them away as they crept out of Aliso.

The rain came bucketing down a while later. A grinning Caedicius gathered his senior officers and declared that if the severe weather continued, they would leave that night. Tullus spread the word among his men, who, like him, had been enjoying the comforts of being warm and dry inside one of the many unused barracks. They listened to his news in silence, their faces wary and fearful. None protested, though, and when he asked them if they were ready, they managed a cheer. Tullus’ pride in them flared bright once more. ‘Be sure to have a hot meal,’ he advised. ‘Stew, or a hearty soup. It’ll help to stave off the cold, and give you strength for the march.’

‘And the shits too, sir, like as not,’ cried Piso, to a chorus of laughter.

Tullus let them enjoy the joke, and the inevitable, good-natured insults – about who was most likely to soil himself – that were flung in its aftermath. ‘Make your own decisions, brothers, but it’s better to risk ruining your undergarments than to get a bad chill. Muffle your weapons and armour as best you can. The last thing we want is for some fool’s scabbard to knock off his mail at the wrong moment. Blacken your faces and hands too – any exposed bits of flesh.’

They seemed to take that in. Tullus was about to leave when his eye was caught by the girl he’d rescued, at the back of the room. She had stayed with his soldiers – where else would she have gone? – and hadn’t joined in the hilarity. She crouched on her bunk, looking downright terrified. The pup was there too, oblivious to everyone’s concerns, its limbs twitching in a happy dream. Tullus was going to ignore the child – his life would be easier if he did so – yet he found himself walking towards her. He hadn’t asked for her mother’s name, even less hers, before now. He had never even spoken to her. His reasoning had been harsh but sound. Tullus had expected both to fall by the wayside, and knowing nothing about them would have made things easier when it happened. The girl was still here, though, and in a strange way that proved her worth. He gave her an awkward pat. ‘Stay strong. We will escape.’

She made a brave face and nodded.

‘Get what rest you can, and eat something. I will find you a place with the women and children before we leave. You’ll be fine with them.’

‘I want to stay with you ,’ she protested. ‘You rescued me.’

‘You can’t.’ He stared, hoping to make her look away, but she held his gaze. ‘I’m going to be at the rear, with my soldiers,’ he said in a harsh tone. ‘Nearest the enemy.’

‘What will happen if we’re pursued? Attacked again?’

Out of the mouth of babes, thought Tullus. If that comes to pass, we men will be dead. You will be a slave of the Germans. Out loud, he said, ‘We will get away in the storm. By the time the tribesmen notice, we’ll be halfway to Vetera.’ Tullus wasn’t sure if she believed him, but he had few words left. ‘Mind the pup.’ With what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he left her to her sorrow.

As Tullus watched the light leaching from the sky, his worries grew. He found a degree of solace in gripping the ivory hilt of his sword and sliding it a way out of its sheath. It had taken him an age to clean the blood from the blade, and the base of the pommel was still a faint pink colour. Stain or no, it was sharper than ever – he had seen to that. Whatever happened, he and his men would extract a heavy price from anyone impeding their path to Vetera.

The evening dragged by, however, and Tullus felt more and more on edge. There were only so many times that he could go over his kit and weapons, check on his soldiers, spy on the enemy camp from the fort’s rampart and check the weather. Following his own advice, he’d had some food, mutton stew, which had warmed his bones for a couple of hours. His nerve-racked guts had betrayed him then, and Tullus had been grateful that none of his men were in the latrines when it had poured out. In the end, reluctant for anyone to see his disquiet, he paced up and down inside the great hall of the principia like a caged beast before it is sent to its death in the circus. The emptiness of the shrine there, its standards and eagle long since departed, seemed to mock him, but Tullus preferred to stay dry and unhappy than to take his restlessness out into the heavy rain, where he risked catching a chill before they even left.

Perhaps three hours had passed when Fenestela came to find him. ‘It’s time,’ he said. ‘Caedicius has given the order.’

Tullus’ guts gave a final lurch, but there was nothing left to be voided. ‘At last. One more soaking, and we’ll reach Vetera. I swear I never want to be wet again.’

Fenestela chuckled. ‘Nor I. I’d only just managed to dry out my cloak too.’

‘Are the men ready?’

‘They are. None of the boys with wounds would travel with the rest of the injured. Said they’d rather take their chances with us.’