‘He’s the one who went wild on that mission to Aliso, isn’t he?’ asked a middle-aged soldier with a bandaged head.
Piso and Vitellius exchanged another look. ‘He is,’ said Piso.
‘I heard that if it hadn’t been for him, the Usipetes would never have raided over the river. He and his officers killed four warriors for no reason, or so they say.’
Piso threw caution to the wind. ‘That’s about right.’
‘Aye,’ muttered Vitellius.
‘So what was he like on the patrol you’ve just come back from?’ asked Bandage Head.
Piso shifted beneath the weight of seven men’s gaze. ‘A little reckless, perhaps.’
‘Bollocks to that. He’s a glory-hunter, pure and simple,’ said Vitellius. ‘He threw us into an ill-prepared attack against a fortified position. Plenty of men died before he realised his mistake, or more like before our centurion intervened and told him how to do it better. Even then, he didn’t listen. Twenty of us got sent to take the enemy in the rear, when it should have been a half-century or more. We two’ – he indicated the leg-wound soldier – ‘and another seven of our comrades are lucky to be here.’
Men pulled faces, and asked the gods that they never had to serve under Tubero.
Vitellius read Piso’s wariness. ‘I was only speaking the truth. Besides, we’re all comrades here. Now, are you just going to stand there holding that jug, or pour some for our friends?’
Telling himself that there was no need to be concerned about gossiping, Piso offered the wine around.
‘What about the good stuff?’ asked Bandage Head with a sly grin.
Vitellius made an obscene gesture at him. ‘You heard the tribune. That’s just for us three, who risked our lives for Rome.’
XII
VARUS LEANED BACK in his chair, admiring the gilded candelabra over his head and thinking about what Tubero had told him. The patrol had returned to Vetera not long before, and the tribune had been quick to come to his office in Legate Vala’s house. He would have Tullus and Bolanus report to him later, but the tribune’s account of his mission seemed straightforward. There was little doubt in Varus’ mind that it would be corroborated by the two centurions. Tubero wasn’t just an arrogant, smooth-cheeked pup from Rome: he did have some ability. His task hadn’t been that difficult, but he had completed it with some style. ‘Burning the boats was clever,’ Varus said.
Tubero’s face went pink. ‘Thank you, sir. As it happened, the measure proved unnecessary, but at the time it seemed the best thing to do.’
‘What were your casualties?’
‘Thirty-one legionaries, sir, and ten auxiliaries. Half that number of wounded. I’ve just been to the hospital to check on them; the surgeons say most will—’
‘Those numbers are higher than I would have expected,’ said Varus, frowning for the first time.
Tubero’s colour deepened. ‘More than a third of the legionaries who died were lost by Centurion Tullus in his attempt to take the compound gate from the inside.’
‘A pity. His soldiers are veterans. Hard men to replace.’ Admiring the candelabra again – Vala really did have good taste – Varus missed Tubero’s look of relief. So too did Aristides, who was tidying away documents in the background.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And you say that there are a dozen or so Usipetes prisoners?’
‘Correct, sir. It’s unfortunate, but none appear to be men of rank.’
‘That’s to be expected. Tribal leaders are like centurions. First to put themselves into danger, leading by example – you know how it is.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Tubero stood a fraction taller.
‘Did the troops perform as they should have? And Arminius’ Cherusci?’
‘Our men did, sir. The Cherusci were …’ Tubero hesitated before saying: ‘… a little undisciplined. More prisoners might have been taken if it hadn’t been for them. Arminius apologised to me afterwards; he said that they had lost the run of themselves.’
‘That’s unsurprising,’ said Varus with a shrug. ‘I hesitate to call Arminius’ people “savages” – they are our allies, and much of the time they’re an agreeable lot. But they are not Roman. Arminius is more civilised; he won’t have been at fault. I doubt that there’s a leader alive who could rein his people in during a fight. It’s something to bear in mind when you meet the German tribes in battle. They lack self-control, but they have the courage of lions.’
‘I’ll remember, sir.’
‘The interrogations have started, I presume?’
‘Yes, sir. Nothing interesting so far. The captives are all saying the same thing – that their chieftains had nothing to do with the raid.’
‘Have any died yet?’ asked Varus.
‘I don’t think so, sir.’
‘Time for that to change. See to it that two – at least two – die under questioning. In brutal fashion. It’s important that the other prisoners witness it.’
Tubero blinked. ‘Yes, sir.’ Behind Varus, Aristides made a faint sound of disapproval.
Their distaste amused Varus. ‘Unpleasant it may be, tribune, but the method is tried and tested. Men are quick to reveal all they know when their comrades’ guts have been spilled on the floor before them.’
Tubero’s chin firmed. ‘I’ll see that it’s done, sir. Any new information will be brought to you at once.’
‘You may go.’ Tubero was at the office door when Varus said, ‘Tribune.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Well done.’
Tubero’s cheeks turned crimson. ‘Thank you, sir.’
Varus felt satisfaction as the senior tribune left the room. Scant praise worked best, he had always found. He sensed Aristides behind him. ‘You disapprove of torture.’
There was a sniff. ‘I don’t like it, master, no.’
‘Is it acceptable if the information obtained saves Roman lives?’ There was no reply, and Varus said, ‘I too find the practice repulsive, but a lifetime’s experience of power has taught me that nothing is ever black or white. Instead, things tend to be a dull shade of grey, which means that when it comes to obtaining useful intelligence, torture can be acceptable.’
‘I am grateful to be spared the need ever to make such decisions, master.’
For once, Varus was envious of his slave’s position. He shoved away the uncomfortable feeling. ‘There must be paperwork that needs signing while I wait for Tullus and Bolanus to arrive.’ He chuckled. ‘Don’t answer, just bring it to me.’
‘Of course, master,’ replied Aristides with a faint tone of smugness.
While he scrawled his signature over and over, Varus considered Tubero’s performance since his arrival. It wasn’t uncommon for tribunes to be haughty, spoiled brats who needed constant monitoring for the first period of their service. After the incident with the cattle-herding Usipetes, Varus had been convinced that Tubero would fall into that category – and was perhaps even an extreme example thereof. This concern had for the most part been laid to rest by the mission to wipe out the raiding party. Tubero still had much to learn, but he had done a good job. With the right guidance, he would develop into a fine leader. When that quality became clear, it would reflect well on him with Augustus, Varus mused, and that could only ever be a good thing. Until this appointment, he had spent years in the political wilderness. It wasn’t impossible that the same could happen to him again. Better to mentor Tubero, rather than put him down.
There was a knock. One of the sentries entered and announced the centurions’ arrival.
‘Send them in,’ ordered Varus.
Without being told, Aristides cleared away the letters and returned to his position at the back of the room, where he had a small desk of his own.
Varus stood as the two crossed the threshold, showing them his regard. He had always had time for centurions, the backbone of the army throughout the empire. They were the salt of the earth, he thought, in particular this pair. ‘Tullus. Bolanus.
Welcome.’
They both saluted. ‘Governor.’
‘At ease, at ease. We’re not on the parade ground.’ Varus picked up a graceful blue glass jug from the table by his desk. ‘Wine?’
The two glanced at one another.
‘I’m having some,’ said Varus, to put them at ease.
‘My thanks, sir. I will if you will,’ said Tullus.
‘I don’t want to be the odd one out, sir,’ added Bolanus. ‘Thank you.’
‘Excellent.’ Varus poured a healthy measure into three glasses and handed them out. He raised his high. ‘To the emperor. May his reign continue for many years.’
‘To the emperor,’ Tullus and Bolanus repeated, and they all drank.
‘To a fruitful mission,’ said Varus, toasting them. ‘Well done.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ they replied. ‘We weren’t in charge of course,’ said Tullus.
‘I know, Tubero was. But a senior tribune needs experienced officers around him, in particular with his first taste of combat. Your success leads me to assume that he performed well. Would I be correct?’ Tullus and Bolanus exchanged another look, one that told Varus they had talked beforehand about what they would say. Although it didn’t surprise him, he felt a flicker of irritation. ‘Come now, we are friends here. You can speak your minds, with no fear of retribution.’
‘Tubero commanded well, sir,’ said Bolanus. ‘I have no major complaints.’
‘And minor ones?’ Bolanus grew a little awkward. ‘Tell me!’ Varus ordered.
‘During the fighting, some of the Usipetes managed to barricade themselves inside the village compound, sir. Tubero’s response was hasty. Instead of assaulting the compound in a number of places, and overwhelming the defenders, he ordered a direct attack on the front gate. It didn’t succeed, and eight legionaries died.’ Another word – ‘unnecessarily’ – hung in the air.
It could have been worse, thought Varus. ‘And at that point, Tubero ordered you, Tullus, to scale the far side of the palisade?’
‘That was my suggestion, sir,’ replied Tullus.
‘Not the tribune’s?’
‘No, sir.’
Varus registered Bolanus’ nod of agreement. He felt annoyed that Tubero had neglected to mention this detail, but wasn’t altogether surprised. At the same stage in his career, he might not have either. ‘I see. And it was during your attack that many of the casualties were lost?’ Again Tullus and Bolanus glanced at one another, and Varus began to wonder if the mission had not been as straightforward as Tubero had made out. ‘Well?’
‘That’s correct, sir,’ said Tullus.
‘What happened?’
‘I had only twenty men and an optio with me, sir. There were upwards of sixty warriors within the compound.’
‘But the legionaries outside must have been attacking the palisade at the same time, splitting the defences?’
‘They didn’t do so immediately, sir,’ said Tullus.
‘Was there some kind of miscommunication?’ demanded Varus.
‘I suppose so, sir.’
‘You had no trumpeter with you?’
‘No, sir.’
That was an oversight on Tubero’s part, thought Varus. ‘Bolanus, you were outside the compound. What was going on?’
‘I think the tribune didn’t quite realise the importance of diverting the defenders’ attention from Tullus and his force, sir. It was fortunate that Arminius was on hand to advise Tubero. He sent our men to the attack after that. Tullus opened the gate, and the remaining warriors were soon overwhelmed.’
Tubero must have been distracted, Varus decided, or, as Bolanus had said, he had misjudged the ‘perfect’ moment to order the attack. It was fortunate indeed that he’d sent Arminius on the patrol. ‘I am glad that you survived, Tullus. Your death would have been a sore loss to your legion, and to the empire.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Tullus, raising his glass.
Varus was about to move the conversation on to the preparations for the summer campaign when Tullus let out a meaningful cough. ‘What is it?’ asked Varus.
‘I was unhappy with how few prisoners were taken, sir. The warriors inside the stockade were our best hope, but Arminius’ men reaped them as if they were ripe stalks of wheat.’
It was curious that Tubero had also mentioned this, thought Varus. ‘They lost the run of themselves,’ he said, deciding again that the simplest answer was the correct one.
Another cough. ‘I wondered if Arminius had ordered his men to act as they did, sir.’
‘Why would he do such a thing?’ demanded Varus, frowning.
‘I don’t know, sir,’ Tullus admitted, looking awkward. ‘But I thought that perhaps they went about killing the Usipetes with more zeal than was necessary.’
‘“Perhaps?” So you’re not sure? You have no evidence to back up your theory?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Unless you have some kind of proof for me, centurion,’ said Varus in a reproving tone, ‘I suggest you stitch your lip.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Now, back to the preparations for the march east,’ declared Varus. The centurions warmed to the topic, which pleased him. He wasn’t the only one looking forward to getting out of the damn camp. When they had drunk a second glass of wine, he thanked both again and dismissed them.
‘They were being opaque about what happened with Tubero, Aristides, or I’m no judge,’ Varus said when the sound of their sandals had died away.
‘I agree, master.’
So I wasn’t imagining it, thought Varus. ‘They were covering for him.’
‘I wouldn’t know, master,’ said Aristides, ever the diplomat.
It was best to be pragmatic, Varus decided again. The desired result – the destruction of the raiding party, and the taking of prisoners – had been achieved. He had enough on his plate without having to worry about Arminius, or to dig around to discover the mission’s every detail. It seemed definite that Arminius’ men had lost their self-control, and that Tubero had been overeager in his approach to the attack on the compound, forgetting the basics of planned assaults. These were both things that were easy to remedy. He could speak to Arminius the next time they met. ‘Fetch me the manual on siege tactics,’ he ordered. ‘Write a note to Tubero, recommending that he read it. I’ll sign it. Have both sent to his quarters.’
‘Yes, master.’
That was one problem dealt with, thought Varus. His satisfaction lasted as long as it took Aristides to come into his line of vision with an armful of documents. Varus gave them a baleful glare. For every one issue that he resolved, there were always six more to sort out.
Jupiter, let the day that we march out of here come soon, he prayed.
Knock.
Varus, who was still at his desk, eyed the door to his office with something akin to resignation. ‘Enter.’
In came the sentry. ‘Arminius is here to see you, sir.’
‘For once, a visitor I am happy to receive. Send him in.’
‘Governor,’ said Arminius, saluting.
‘It’s good to see you, Arminius.’ Varus came around his desk to shake the Cheruscan’s hand. ‘You’ll have some wine.’
‘I never say no to wine,’ replied Arminius with a broad smile.
‘A man after my own heart. Aristides, do the necessary, will you?’ Varus offered his guest a chair. ‘I must thank you for what you did on the patrol.’
Arminius looked a little surprised. ‘I did my duty, that’s all.’
‘I meant the advice you gave Tubero, during the attack on the palisade.’
‘Ah, that. Anyone would have done the same.’
‘Maybe so, but it saved Tullus’ life, and the lives of a good number of legionaries.’ Varus raised the glass that Aristides had just handed him. ‘My thanks.’
With a gracious nod, Arminius accepted the toast. ‘I am grateful to you for sending me on the mission.’
‘It’s a pity that we have so few c
aptives.’
Arminius’ face grew concerned. ‘If you’re referring to my men’s actions inside the stockade—’
‘I am,’ said Varus in a cold voice. ‘Tullus tells me that more prisoners could have been taken.’
‘True enough. My warriors did run amok,’ Arminius admitted with an apologetic look. ‘One of my best men had been cut down in the village, you see. The number of slain legionaries outside the gate didn’t help either. Nonetheless, I can only apologise, governor. They failed you. I failed you,’ he said, wringing his hands now.
It had been a genuine mistake, Varus decided again. Arminius wasn’t lying, that was clear. ‘See that it doesn’t happen again.’
‘You have my word on that.’
Varus smiled to show that the matter was closed. ‘Now, if you’ve come to tempt me out of here with a day’s hunting, I will have to turn you down. My conscience, or should I say Aristides, would not permit it.’
Arminius eyed Aristides. ‘It’s you who keeps the governor on the straight and narrow, eh?’
‘He doesn’t need me to do that, sir,’ demurred Aristides. ‘I’m only a poor slave.’
‘You’re indispensable, that’s what you are,’ said Varus.
Muttering his thanks, Aristides bowed and retreated to his desk.
‘You’re busy then,’ said Arminius.
Varus indicated the piles of documents before him. ‘I have twice as much to do as normal. It’s because we’ll be leaving soon, of course, which means it can’t be ignored.’
‘I don’t know how you do it, governor,’ said Arminius. ‘I loathe official-dom and the mountain of paperwork that goes with it. Thank Donar that I too have a scribe. If it weren’t for him, the quartermaster would be bending your ear about me every other day. Why does everything have to be filled out in triplicate?’
‘That’s the army for you,’ said Varus, chuckling. ‘All the empire’s property and resources have to be accounted for. It’s how it has been since Augustus became emperor.’
‘Which means we have to accept it,’ said Arminius, raising another toast. ‘To Augustus.’