‘I was going to ask you the same thing,’ retorted Arminius, jabbing a thumb at his bandaged thigh.
Segestes looked down, and back up again, confused. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I was attacked not long since, just outside the village. Six warriors, all Cherusci.’ Something flickered in Segestes’ eyes, and Arminius cried, ‘Ha! They were your men. Were they here to liberate you – was that it?’
‘You’re raving. The wound has given you a fever.’
‘Not yet it hasn’t.’ Arminius gave the largest of his warriors a nod. The man lunged forward and grabbed the front of Segestes’ tunic, heaving him to the floor. Segestes let out a cry of pain, and tried to move backwards, on his hands. A mighty kick to his belly drove the air from his lungs, however, and he collapsed on to his side, sobbing for breath.
Arminius motioned the warrior to stand back. He waited until Segestes had managed to sit up. ‘Did you ask Segimundus to send a party of men to rescue you?’
‘Aye.’
‘I knew it,’ cried Maelo.
‘I wouldn’t have cared if they had slain you, but they had no orders to do so,’ said Segestes.
Segestes seemed to be telling the truth, but Arminius was still furious. If Segimundus’ followers hadn’t been in the forest, he would not have been attacked. ‘Bring his followers over here.’
‘Those men have done nothing,’ Segestes croaked as the pair were dragged forward.
‘They would slay me given half a chance, just as the others tried to do,’ snapped Arminius. He glanced at Maelo. ‘Kill them.’
For several heartbeats, Segestes’ shouted objections mingled with the gagged men’s muffled protests. Then blood gouted from one warrior’s throat, reducing the noise by some degree. His corpse flopped down, slack-limbed. Maelo moved on to his next victim without pause, slitting his throat with expert precision. Fresh torrents of blood spattered, darkening patches of the earthen floor. When the second body had been heaped on top of the first, right in front of Segestes, Arminius hobbled forward to glare down at the old man.
Fire flashed in Segestes’ eyes, and Arminius felt a tiny thrill of fear. Confrontation was the best tactic, he decided. ‘Go on, try! Wounded or not, I’ll take you.’
Segestes sagged, like a wine skin pricked with a blade. ‘Do what you must. May Thusnelda never give you a child, let alone a son.’
If Arminius had had a weapon in his hands at that moment, he would have slain Segestes, so great was his rage. In, out, he breathed, several times, until he was calm again.
He reached for the support of Maelo’s arm. ‘Beat the shit out of him. Nice and slow. Break a few bones, but don’t kill him, or leave him so hurt he’ll die.’ Arminius spoke in a voice quiet enough for Segestes not to hear. The attack in the forest had been unplanned, Arminius decided, and Thusnelda would never forgive him if he had her father murdered. He could live with the disapproval she’d shower him with because of the beating, however. Had he not a grievous wound, caused by Segestes’ men?
‘Donar take you, Arminius!’ shouted Segestes.
Arminius didn’t reply, or stay to watch the old man’s punishment. His strength was waning fast. From the comfort of his bed, he could consider what to do about Segimundus.
Enemies within could be as dangerous as those without.
Chapter XIV
Tullus watched as Germanicus arrived at Vetera two days later. Straight-backed, cold-faced, he rode in at the head of a mixed force of more than two thousand auxiliaries. His use of non-Roman soldiery – an intentional move – was a stinging rebuke to Caecina and every legionary in the camp. It was a relief, however, that they weren’t needed – the day of slaughter that had begun with the trumpets’ call had brought the unrest to a gruesome close. Almost six hundred soldiers had been slain between the two legions. The majority were mutineers, but more than five score loyal men had also died in the bitter fighting. These were grievous losses, a sorrowful Germanicus declared on his tour of the battered camp, in which the signs of destruction and death were still widespread. ‘This has been damage rather than remedy,’ he chided Caecina – and then cast a reproving look at the other senior officers present. ‘It should have been carried out in a more controlled manner.’
Flushing, Caecina muttered an apology. The others, Tubero among them, took great interest in their belt buckles, or sword hilts.
Tullus wanted to say to Germanicus that it was his orders which had brought about the carnage, but he held his tongue. In truth, there was nothing to say that the killings – a necessary evil – would have gone more smoothly if an alternative method had been used.
‘At least the matter has been dealt with,’ said Germanicus, echoing Tullus’ thoughts. He led the way up one of the sets of stairs that provided access to the walkway that ran along the battlements. Everyone clattered up behind him.
Tullus leaned against the top of the wall and looked east, as Germanicus was doing. It was a familiar view. Beyond the deep defensive ditch, a gentle, grass-covered slope led down the hill upon which Vetera was built. At its bottom lay an irregular pattern of farmers’ fields. Small houses and barns were dotted here and there, but what caught the eye most was the wide silver band of the River Rhenus.
Once the far side had been familiar tramping grounds, but since the massacre in the forest, Roman troops seldom crossed the river. Tullus had last done so more than twelve months before, and that had only been a probing patrol that stopped a few miles from the bridge. Some soldiers were content with this, although many others felt the need to reassert the empire’s dominance, even men like Cordus and Victor. To campaign on the far bank was a burning desire for Tullus. The following spring and Germanicus’ proposed campaign couldn’t come soon enough.
‘The weather is fine for the time of year, is it not?’ asked Germanicus, looking up at the clear sky.
‘It is a deal milder than normal, sir, yes,’ replied Caecina.
‘I am unused to the change in seasons in these parts. Have you seen conditions like this before?’
‘On occasion, sir. There is no way of knowing if it will continue,’ Caecina added, as if he and Germanicus had already discussed something.
‘Yet it has been settled for – what? A month now?’ Germanicus addressed not just Caecina, but the gathering at large.
‘That would be right, sir,’ replied Caecina, with similar answers echoing from others present.
Germanicus paced to and fro, which emphasised how much taller he was than everyone else. He tapped a fingernail against his teeth. ‘The mutiny and its aftermath must be put behind us, and a winter spent in barracks will not achieve that. If anything, it will do the opposite.’
This was true, thought Tullus. With fewer duties during the cold months, the legionaries would have time to brood – and gossip. He pricked up his ears.
‘I propose a swift raid over the river,’ said Germanicus, his keen eyes roving from officer to officer. ‘Cross, march hard, find a nearby hostile tribe, and attack. There’s nothing like a common enemy to bring men together. The Marsi are one of the closest, are they not?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Caecina. ‘You would lead men from the mutinous legions, I assume?’
‘You are a mind reader, Caecina. Not every soldier of the four legions, but most. Ten, twelve thousand legionaries, plus a similar number of auxiliaries, should be sufficient.’
Tullus’ spirits soared at Germanicus’ words. The Marsi had been an integral part of Arminius’ forces. They deserved to be punished – and this was not his only reason to feel excited. ‘Sir?’ he asked.
‘Speak, Tullus,’ ordered Germanicus, with an expansive gesture.
‘I have a servant who is Marsi, sir. He’s heard a rumour of recent days that one of the three lost eagles is with his tribe.’