Germanicus’ eyes lit up. ‘Is that so?’
‘Yes, sir. He wasn’t sure which legion it had come from, though.’
‘No matter,’ cried Germanicus, glancing from face to face. ‘Let us hope the story is true, and that we recover the eagle even as we wipe out the Marsi.’
Tullus’ conscience began to twinge. The penalty paid by Degmar’s people was always going to be severe but he hadn’t anticipated the entire tribe being sentenced to death. Part of him didn’t care, but he couldn’t help picturing Degmar’s parents and sisters, whom the warrior had sometimes mentioned, being butchered. Innocents died all the time, Tullus told himself. It’s not as if his family are friends to Rome.
Tubero had read his mind. ‘Keep your dog of a servant on a tight leash. Better still, silence him,’ he said with a nasty smile. ‘The last thing we need is for the Marsi to be warned of our approach.’
The gaze of every man present bore down on Tullus. He felt that of Germanicus the most. ‘There’s no need for concern, sir. My servant is faithful. If it hadn’t been for him, we would not have made it to Aliso.’
‘You will take responsibility for his actions?’ demanded Tubero.
‘I will, sir,’ replied Tullus. ‘I’ll have him watched.’
It seemed as if Tubero might press Tullus further, but Germanicus raised a hand. ‘The centurion’s word is sufficient.’
Tubero subsided, while Tullus raged inside. He had just placed his reputation, perhaps his life, on the line when he wasn’t sure if Degmar would remain true, in particular if the lives of his family were at stake. The best solution, Tullus concluded, was to do as he’d promised, and prevent Degmar acting until it was too late.
‘When do we leave, sir?’ he asked Germanicus.
‘The legions from Ara Ubiorum will be here in three to four days. The combined force can leave the day after that.’
Once the assault on the Marsi was over, Tullus decided, Degmar could be released from his oath. What man would wish to serve another who had helped to massacre his people?
Tullus summoned Degmar the moment he got back to his barracks. His rooms weren’t the ones he’d lived in while serving in the Eighteenth – a move had been inevitable after his demotion – but he had salvaged many of the fixtures and fittings, and his personal possessions. In the dark months after the ambush, he had been surprised how these old, familiar objects had made his life easier to bear. The effect had been most noticeable in his bedroom, a more private chamber than the rest of his quarters, which were so often filled with visitors of one kind or another.
There were woollen rugs that he’d bought in the local market. A wooden stand he used to hold his armour, its arms worn shiny from the rubbing of mail. A waist-high stone shrine, decorated with a few tiny figures – among them those of his father and grandfather – standing in the opposite corner to his bed. The threadbare military blanket that he preferred more than any fine bedcover. A pair of simple stools that faced each other across a low table, upon which sat a jug, two cups and a set of ivory gaming pieces.
Moving from this to the sparsely decorated room that doubled as both living room and office, Tullus paced about, trying to come up with the best way of breaking the news to Degmar. He was still struggling for an answer when there was a sharp rap at the door, and the Marsi warrior entered.
Tullus smiled. Even Fenestela would have called out his name before presuming to come in, but not proud Degmar. He never called Tullus ‘sir’ either. While other Romans found this behaviour impertinent, Tullus didn’t. The relationship between German chieftains and their followers was more equal than the Roman equivalent. Degmar deferred to him out of respect, not because of his rank.
‘You wanted me?’
‘Yes.’ Tullus searched Degmar’s face for signs that he was aware of their mission, and was relieved to see none.
‘Do you need your sandals cleaned, or your armour polished?’
‘No.’
Degmar’s eyes cast around the room. ‘Where’s your sword? You said something about it needing an edge.’
‘It’s not that either. I have to talk to you, to tell you something.’ Degmar’s dark eyes came to rest on Tullus’ face. ‘That sounds serious.’
‘It is.’ Tullus tried again to think how the blow might be eased, and failed. ‘Germanicus has ordered an immediate expedition over the Rhenus. Twenty-five thousand men. Half of them are to come from the Fifth and Twenty-First, and the legions at Ara Ubiorum, and the rest will be auxiliaries. It’s an exercise, to give the men a common purpose after the mutiny.’
If Degmar was surprised, he concealed it well. ‘Am I to accompany you?’
‘Yes, but that’s not why you’re here. Curse it, there’s only one way to say this. Germanicus has ordered us to attack the Marsi settlements.’
Alarm flared in Degmar’s eyes. ‘Which ones?’
‘Those that are nearest.’
‘And are the people to be enslaved, or to …?’ Degmar’s voice died away.
Tullus shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
There was silence as Degmar stared at the floor, his jaw working. ‘I have to go,’ he said at length. ‘They must be warned.’
‘You know I can’t let you do that.’
Degmar took a step towards him. ‘Why should my parents and my sisters die? They have done nothing to Rome!’
‘I know,’ said Tullus, torn between his desire for revenge and his sympathy for Degmar.
‘And the womenfolk and children, the old – what have they done?’ Degmar’s voice throbbed with anger.
‘The Marsi rose against Rome. The warriors took part in Arminius’ ambush.’
‘Of course they did!’ spat Degmar. ‘Why wouldn’t they? You and your kind were the invaders, the ones who didn’t belong east of the Rhenus – not us. Among the tribes, we live our lives as free men, not as the subjects of some fucking emperor. What does that word mean anyway? Subjugation. The Roman boot on our necks. Laws. Tax. Not much else, as far as I can see.’
Tullus had long known of Degmar’s antipathy towards Romans and Rome, and chosen to ignore it. The warrior served him, not his senior officers or the emperor. Hearing his feelings laid out in such a plain manner was still shocking, but Tullus couldn’t help thinking that his response to such a threat might have been similar. ‘Rome is what it is,’ he began.
‘This for Rome!’ Degmar made an obscene gesture, and for a moment it seemed as if he might strike Tullus, or flee the room. Then his shoulders slumped. ‘Am I to be held captive until after the raid?’
‘Can you give me your word that you will not run?’
‘Why should I?’ demanded Degmar, rage still simmering in his eyes. ‘Everyone I love who remains living is soon to die, thanks to Germanicus.’ He spat the last word.
Degmar’s anguish brought Tullus to an instant and unexpected decision. ‘I am bound to follow the governor’s orders – you know that. The Marsi settlements will be destroyed, and thousands of people will die. That’s not to say that a few individuals might not escape.’
Degmar threw him a look loaded with suspicion. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Your loyalty these past years places a responsibility on me.’ Even though they were alone, Tullus lowered his voice. ‘I will help you smuggle your family to safety before the attack. Once it’s done, you can stay with them.’
There was wonder in Degmar’s eyes now, and a trace of disbelief. ‘Why do this for me?’
‘I would never have reached Aliso after the ambush, nor would my men.’
‘Pah! I was your guide, nothing more.’
‘No,’ said Tullus. ‘I’ve told you before. You didn’t have to try and find us after the slaughter began, but you did. You then saved my life – all of our lives. That was more than enough to repay my freeing you from the Usipetes.’
‘Leading you along some forest paths for a few days is nothing. The only way I can erase that debt is by saving your life in combat,’ refuted Degmar with the same stubbornness that emerged each time the issue came up.