That day, it was the turn of the Twentieth Legion to form the end of the column, so Tullus only heard the dramatic tale of what happened afterwards. Confused by the strong enemy attack, the Twentieth’s lines had wavered. Heavy casualties were being sustained, and things were looking bleak until Germanicus, who had heard what was going on, rode back to seize control of the situation. His exhortations to the Twentieth’s legionaries to turn their ‘guilt into glory’ had dramatic results. The tribesmen were driven back, allowing the army to stop and construct a fortified camp for the night.
Resistance melted away as the Rhenus drew near, allowing the army a safe passage to the western bank, and their camps. Spirits were high and the camaraderie of old had returned as the expedition came to an end. Wiser to his soldiers’ needs since the rebellion, Germanicus discharged scores of veterans who had served their time. He also laid on several days of games. Food and wine was provided in great quantity for the festivities’ duration. These unexpected bounties fell like spring rain on young seedlings. So too did the usual four-monthly payday, which was boosted by the addition of a special bonus paid for by Germanicus himself. Soon after, the governor departed for Rome – his mission there to report to Tiberius – content in the knowledge that normal life had resumed in Vetera.
He left instructions with Caecina, which were soon relayed to Tullus and the other centurions. The legions were to prepare for a major campaign the following spring. To keep the officers’ minds focused on the task in hand, Germanicus’ final words were repeated verbatim at the end of every meeting in the months that followed. ‘Varus and his men will be avenged. Arminius and the tribes who massacred the three legions will pay. The lost eagles will be found, and our honour restored.’
They became Tullus’ refrain as he knelt nightly before the shrine in his quarters.
‘My soldiers will be avenged. Arminius and the tribes who massacred them will pay. The Eighteenth’s eagle will be found, and my honour restored. Grant me these things, great Mars, and you can have anything.’
Each and every time, Tullus paused before adding, ‘including my life’.
PART TWO
Spring AD 15
Cherusci territory, deep in Germania
Chapter XVIII
Arminius had been woken by the dawn chorus yet again. Although used to sleeping until later, he didn’t mind. Each winter, the dark, the cold, the lack of sunlight and the drab brown of the countryside ground him down, month by dragging month. Spring’s arrival – and with it, the birds’ sounding of joy – was to be welcomed. He had slipped from under the bearskin and blankets, taking care not to wake Thusnelda. After a fond look down at her sleeping, pregnant form, he had dressed and gone alone to the sacred grove.
Some hours later, belly rumbling with hunger, right thigh aching, he came striding back into the settlement. A word with the guards outside Segestes’ quarters – a daily habit – told him that the old man was up and about, and as irritable as ever. During Segestes’ prolonged recovery from his beating, he had complained little, but things had changed of recent days. Arminius took a sour pleasure from hearing how pissed off he was.
Arminius’ own wound from the arrow had healed well – the priest had seen to that. It had taken months to return to full health and, truth be told, his right leg wasn’t as strong as before. It might never be, the priest had said. Keen to do all he could, Arminius was careful to do the exercises he’d been shown, and to have frequent massages. His efforts had paid off in part – training sessions with Maelo and other warriors were easier now. No one said it, but he knew he was no longer as dangerous a fighter.
I will be, one day, he told himself. Shoving away the bad mood that threatened, he returned the numerous greetings thrown his way, stopped to talk to an old friend of his father, and praised two boys driving a flock of sheep to pasture. By the time Arminius had reached his own longhouse, he was in good spirits again, and the rich smell of frying pork and mushrooms emanating from within made him smile. Thusnelda was preparing his breakfast.
He stole inside, putting a finger to his lips to silence the slaves working at the animals’ end of the building, and stroking his dog’s head to quieten it. Thusnelda had her back to him. She was busy, alternately stirring a pan on the fire and kneading dough on the large stone slab that served as a work surface. Arminius padded to within half a dozen paces of her before she realised. She let out a little gasp.
‘I’ve told you not to do that! It’s bad for the baby,’ she scolded. Her happy expression contradicted her words, however, and she didn’t resist as he wrapped his arms around her middle, caressing her belly.
‘My son is a warrior! He won’t be so easily scared,’ Arminius said.
‘You know it’s a boy?’ Her hands reached up to stroke his hair.
‘Of course,’ he replied, nuzzling her neck. ‘He’s my first-born. What else could he be?’
‘Ha! The midwife says it will be a girl.’
‘How can she know?’ With gentle hands, Arminius turned her around. They locked eyes, and kissed. Thusnelda pulled away after a moment and Arminius cried, ‘Hey!’
‘The pork is about to burn,’ she retorted, laughing and flipping the meat in the pan. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Starving.’
‘I thought you would be. You went to the grove?’
‘Aye.’
She studied his face, searching for a clue.
‘I saw nothing,’ he said with a dismissive flick of his wrist. ‘It doesn’t matter. The god isn’t going to offer me something every time I’m there, is he?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Inguiomerus is with us, and his people. After the Roman attacks last autumn, so are the Marsi. The Angrivarii won’t take much persuading, nor will the rest. I’ll have to visit the chieftains, but by spring’s end, I will have an army large enough to tackle Germanicus.’
She frowned. ‘You’ll have to leave soon.’
‘There’s no way around it, my love. But I shall return inside a month.’
‘Not for long, though, and then you will be away all summer, fighting.’
‘You knew the type of man I was when you married me,’ he said, his voice hardening. ‘Rome has to be taught another lesson if we are to free ourselves from its yoke – and its taxes.’
‘And if you succeed, will that be the end of it? What’s to say the legions won’t cross the river again? Will you have to go to war every summer, until one year you do not return? I’ll be left a widow, and your children fatherless.’ She was crying now, and smoke was rising unnoticed from the frying meat.
He took a step towards her, but she motioned him away. ‘Don’t!’
His own anger rising, Arminius turned.
‘Wait. Your pork is ready.’
Arminius hesitated. Leaving without a word, letting her cooking go to waste, would be satisfying. To do so, however, would deepen the rift that had just opened between them. The resulting argument might last for days, or even longer. Their fiery relationship had seen that happen before. Better to stay, he decided. ‘Thank you,’ he said in a conciliatory tone. ‘It smells delicious.’
‘I’ve gone and burned it,’ she replied, scowling.
‘You haven’t, my love. Come, have some with me. You’re eating for two now.’
She shook her head: no.
‘Feeling sick?’
‘It will pass.’ She motioned him to the table. ‘Sit. I’ll join you.’
‘I’m a lucky man,’ said Arminius as she piled his plate high and placed it before him. ‘Not only are you a skilled cook, and beautiful – you’re bearing my son.’