He shifted position on the hard bench, trying in vain to overhear Arminius’ conversation with Adgandestrius, chieftain of a large faction of the Chatti tribe. Gervas’ position – midway along one side of the rectangle – and the din made by at least four score drunken warriors made his task impossible. Arminius’ stormy expression and jabbing forefinger marked him out as an unhappy man. He was never fully content, thought Gervas with bubbling resentment, unless people obeyed his wishes.
It was clear that Adgandestrius, a weasel-faced type with red hair, wasn’t bending the knee – even now, he shouted something at Arminius and hammered a fist off the table, sending plates and cups flying.
How else do you expect him to react, Arminius? thought Gervas. The tribes do not need one leader. They do not want a king.
Sour-faced, Arminius rose from his seat and pushed his way through the gaggle of servants ranged behind his host and the other chieftains.
Assuming that Arminius was emptying a full bladder, Gervas returned his attention to his platter of meat. His cup of beer was almost untouched; he preferred to remain in control of his senses while those around him descended into drunkenness. Perhaps the disagreement was over something other than acknowledging Arminius’ supremacy, he told himself.
‘Enjoying the feast?’ Arminius’ breath, hot and beery, was in his ear.
Surprised, Gervas turned, pulling the expected smile. ‘Aye, well enough. How goes it with Adgandestrius?’
‘Fool. He’s a fool.’ Spittle flew from Arminius’ lips. ‘He won’t listen to me. Says the Chatti are happy as they are.’
Gervas should have held his peace – Arminius was drunk – but could hold back no longer. ‘Maybe he’s right.’
‘Eh?’ Arminius’ bloodshot eyes bored into Gervas’. ‘Right?’
‘The answer’s the same from every chieftain. They’ll follow you against the Romans, or if it will help their quarrel with another tribe, but they don’t want you to lead them.’ Gervas hesitated, then said, ‘Our peoples bridle against the mere idea of kingship, Arminius.’
‘You’re wrong. Earlier on, three chieftains sought my counsel. They’re unhappy with Adgandestrius. If I help to depose him, they’ll support my claim to leadership of the Chatti tribe.’
Gervas didn’t want to believe what he was hearing. ‘Depose him?’
With a wolf’s smile, Arminius drew a sly finger across his throat. ‘You’ll help, won’t you?’
Despite the longhouse’s heat, Gervas shivered. Then a white-hot rage filled him. Arminius had just indirectly admitted to murdering Gerulf. Gervas could see him, exasperated by Gerulf’s combative nature, giving Maelo the order. I’ve been blind these four years, he thought. Blind and deaf.
‘Later on tonight, we’ll find the right moment.’ Arminius leaned closer. ‘With me?’
‘Of course. I’ll watch for your signal.’
‘Good lad.’ Arminius tousled his hair, and in a gruff voice said, ‘You’re like a son to me.’
Despite his fury, a lump formed in Gervas’ throat, preventing an answer. He nodded.
‘I’m off outside. Nature calls.’ Arminius weaved off.
Gervas warred with himself for the briefest of moments. Arminius deserved no pity, he decided, memories of Gerulf bright in his mind. Being argumentative didn’t merit being smothered in a snowdrift. Blood runs thicker than water, Gervas thought, always.
He waited until Arminius had gone outside. Then, fingertips brushing the handle of his dagger, he sauntered towards the nearest door.
Author’s Note
WRITING AN ACCOUNT of the ambush in the Teutoburg Forest – a story which I hope you have read, or will read, in Eagles at War – was something I had wanted to do for years. Cataclysmic though it was, the clash wasn’t the end of the Roman Empire’s involvement in Germany. After licking its wounds, Rome turned its mind to revenge. Leaving the massacre perpetrated by Arminius unanswered would have been unthinkable to those in power.
The empire’s response took years to come to fruition, for a number of reasons. A bloody war in Pannonia (roughly speaking, parts of modern-day Austria, Hungary and former Yugoslavia) had only ended in AD 9. Replacement legions had to be moved to the Rhine, and a new governor – Germanicus – found. Not until AD 14 and 15 was Rome ready to strike: Hunting the Eagles covered this period; this book recounts the events of AD 16. While I have fictionalised some parts of the story, I’ve also recreated the real-life, tumultuous events, and stuck to most historical details that have survived. I apologise now for any errors in the three books.
Many of the characters in this novel were real people; these include Germanicus, Lucius Seius Tubero, Stertinius, Aemilius, Publius Quinctilius Varus, Drusus, Caedicius, Arminius, Mallovendus, Segestes, Thusnelda, Thumelicus, Flavus and Adgandestrius. Even lowly soldiers such as Marcus Crassus Fenestela existed. Scylax is the name of a dog in a Roman play; Macula means ‘Spot’ in Latin: my attempt at Roman humour! Centurion Tullus is my invention; so too are the men of Tullus’ century; the Germans Maelo, Degmar, Gerulf, Horsa and Tudrus; and Sirona and Artio. The last women’s names belong to ancient Gaulish goddesses.
It’s frustrating that few real German tribal names of the time survive. Gerulf and Horsa date slightly later than the first century AD. I had to invent Osbert and Degmar. To make them as authentic as possible, I used name stems from the Dark Age era. Arminius, Inguiomerus, Mallovendus and Adgandestrius are clearly Romanised versions of German names. Arminius may have been called ‘Armin’ or ‘Ermin’ – we are not sure. When writing Eagles at War, my editor persuaded me to use Arminius; I hope this doesn’t make him sound too Roman.
It’s not known how many men survived the ambush on Varus’ army. My invented figure of about two hundred may be correct, but it’s possible far fewer men made it. Some legionaries were captured by the Germans and later ransomed back to their families. It was they who were banned from returning to Italy, not the men who’d fought free of the slaughter. In my mind, there would have been a stigma attached to being a survivor, but it’s my fiction to include Tullus and his men in the injunction – as it is to have Germanicus ask the emperor to part-rescind the ban. The attempted assassination of Germanicus and the burning of the boats is also made up – it’s probably thinking in too modern a way to wonder why the tribes didn’t attempt such things. Battles were formulaic for the most part, and commando-style attacks almost unheard of.
Few details about legions’ eagles remain – most information comes from gravestones and suchlike. Having numerals to differentiate one standard from another makes sense, but I don’t know if this is how it was done.
In the autumn of AD 15, Germanicus rewarded the officers who had distinguished themselves on the just-finished campaign. Centurions and ordinary soldiers would have been recognised then as well – this was a perfect opportunity for me to have Tullus reinstated at last.
The military offensive of AD 16 happened much as I’ve written it. Silius was sent east first, then the ships around the North Sea coast. The siege of Aliso was real. We don’t know why Germanicus visited the site of his father Drusus’ altar, but it’s likely to have had a powerful resonance for him. Ill omens were predicted at the time Drusus had it erected, and his fate was as I described. The annual soldiers’ foot race to and from his monument in Mogontiacum was real – I featured it in The Shrine, the free digital short story that serves as a prequel to Eagles at War. Find it and two others at all online retailers, and for those of you outside the UK, also on the writing platform wattpad.com.
Building bridges over rivers with boats was standard practice for Roman armies. It isn’t known if this was what Drusus had intended, but the legions of Julius Caesar and others did so. Spartacus did force Roman prisoners to fight as gladiators, but I made up Germanicus’ recreation of this. The capture of Arminius’ pregnant wife Thusnelda is recorded; so is his confrontation with his brother Flavus at the River Weser/Visurgis. This may well have been when Arminius first learn
ed he had a son – but we can’t be sure. Thusnelda’s fate after AD 16 is unclear but, in my mind, her life will not have been happy. Arminius’ torment at his own helplessness can only be imagined.
A German traitor did make his way to the legions’ camp the night before the clash at Idistaviso with news of Arminius’ intentions, and a disguised Germanicus wandered the tent lines, seeking proof that his men’s morale was high enough to fight the next day. The Roman battle formation is recorded, down to the positions of the Raeti, Vindelici and Gauls. Hostilities were opened by the cavalry under the command of Stertinius and Aemilius. Next to cross the river were the Batavians, who fell for Arminius’ ruse. Eagles were seen over the forest, but I had Tullus rather than Germanicus use them to encourage the legionaries into battle. Chains were found afterwards, and assumed to have been ready for use on Roman prisoners. German warriors hiding from the enemy were shot from trees by auxiliary archers. (As an aside: note my use of ‘shooting’ in the text rather than ‘firing’, which implies the use of gunpowder. I have also avoided using ‘towel’, because this word wasn’t known two thousand years ago.)
The Angrivarian wall may have been a physical structure, to separate the tribe’s territory from a neighbouring people, or it may just have been a border. I decided to have Arminius order its construction; the boggy ground to one side allowed the Romans to make a flanking attack, but the bodies used to block their path are my gruesome addition. After the Romans’ initial attacks faltered, Germanicus had his troops withdraw and the artillery deployed. The humming slingshot bullets are not my invention but a very recent discovery from a Roman site in Scotland. Surely a type of psychological warfare!
The mention of a wounded legionary talking about ‘four sausages for an as’ comes from a description of an injured soldier in World War One repeating the price of cabbage over and over. We don’t know how many tribes fought with Arminius that day – perhaps less than I have described. He was troubled during the fighting by an injury received at Idistaviso, an encounter he had survived thanks to a Chatti auxiliary, who had let Arminius flee rather than take him captive. I researched toe injuries. Tullus would have been able to march after the loss of part of a toe. Tubero played a prominent part in the battle. Sadly, he wasn’t killed, but went on to a career in politics. The sources tell us that only one legion was ordered away from the battlefield to construct the day’s camp, but due to the huge size of the army, I felt two was more probable – this allowed me to have Tullus withdraw without disgrace.
After rewarding his soldiers for their service during the campaign, Germanicus set out for home by sea. His fleet was hit by storms as it sailed back to the mouth of the River Rhine. Many ships were wrecked; others were carried to Britain where the soldiers were taken hostage by local tribes. Keen to show their loyalty to Rome after the summer’s bloody events, German coastal-dwelling tribes paid the ransoms demanded. I was tempted to have a number of chapters with Tullus in Britain, but had to stay focused on his attempt to recover the eagle – thanks to my editor Selina Walker for this! Several tribes did rise up after the defeat at the Angrivarian wall, among them the Marsi. Mallovendus revealed the location of the eagle in his possession, and a light detail of Roman troops recovered it. Tullus had to be in charge of this operation, but we have no real idea who led the mission. The third and last eagle taken from the Teutoburg Forest may have been with the Chauci, or perhaps the Chatti – it’s not entirely clear from Cassius Dio’s description. In Eagles at War, I had part of the Chauci tribe fight with Arminius, but that has not been attested. It was my device to explain their having an eagle for this book.
The last standard was retrieved in AD 41, during the reign of the emperor Claudius. Readers may wonder why Germanicus’ campaigns into Germany didn’t continue in AD 17 and beyond. Soon after his last campaign had ended, he was ordered by the emperor not to renew them. Tiberius was following directives from Augustus’ will, which decreed that the empire’s borders were to be left as they were at his death. Thereafter, Rome’s presence east of the Rhine ebbed away, although in recent years the discovery of the third-century-AD Harzhorn battlefield has opened up the discussion.
There are so many other things to mention. I want you, the reader, to know that the richness of archaeological finds means that many of the objects and details referenced in my books are real. German warriors sang a fearsome war chant named by the Romans as the barritus. Although their sacrificial practices were savage – hanging, throat-slitting and drowning in bogs – they were no different to other peoples from northern Europe. Their funerary offerings were as I described. They constructed sturdy timber roads across boggy land, plentiful evidence of which has been found. We know some details of how the Germans dressed, but it was my invention to have the tribes wear different-patterned trousers. The word berserker is Viking, but warriors sometimes fought naked.
Germanic tribes were ill-disposed to monarchs, preferring to select their chieftains on merit. Proof of this comes to us from Arminius’ fate – four years after the campaign of AD 16, he was murdered by one of his own, because of his ideas towards kingship. In my mind, a man like Gervas (almost family in the novel) might have realised Arminius’ true nature, and taken matters into his own hands. I had Adgandestrius appear in the final scene because he is recorded as having sent a letter to the Senate in AD 20, offering to kill Arminius if the Romans would provide the means. His offer was turned down by Tiberius, who said that enemies of the empire were to be dealt with openly, with ‘spades and spears’, not through deceit.
Legionaries based in Vetera were fond of eating many kinds of fish and bird, as well as other wildlife: deer, boar and beaver. Wooden tenement blocks in Rome often burned down. Altars were built in celebration on battlefields using armour and weapons on a manmade cross. It was commonplace to publicise gladiator fights with murals daubed on house walls. Roman funerals followed strict protocol – if you want to see an excellent re-enactment of one, look up a video posted by the Ashmolean Museum on YouTube. Legionaries’ gravestones tended to be rather stylised: the wording on Piso’s emulates this.
Centurions are recorded as having called their soldiers ‘boys’ as well as ‘brothers’. After an animal was sacrificed, it was butchered and the meat given to the poor. Despite what some people believe, Romans cursed a lot – a lot! The plentiful, lewd graffiti in Pompeii and the bawdy poetry that survives is proof of this. The ‘C’ word was one of the most common swear words used. So too was the word ‘cocksucker’. ‘Fuck’ is less well attested, but there is a Latin verb futuere, which means ‘to fuck’. My more frequent use of the ‘F’ word compared to the ‘C’ word is nothing more than an attempt to spare blushes. It’s not certain if ‘million’ was used by the Romans, so I used the term ‘a thousand thousand’ instead.
In spite of its many glaring inaccuracies, I enjoyed the Spartacus: Blood and Sand TV series. I was taken with its archaic-sounding language, hence my use of ‘Gratitude’. The phrase ‘into the mud’ is a nod to a great author of dark fantasy, Joe Abercrombie. Arimnestos is a tiny homage to the hero of Christian Cameron’s stunning Long War novels, which are set in ancient Greece. (I cannot recommend Cameron enough – he’s the best author of historical fiction out there.) I loved Gillian Bradshaw’s Roman tale Dark North, set in Britain during Septimius Severus’ reign. Its opening chapter served as the inspiration for Piso’s mission in Tubero’s tent. There are two homages to the film Gladiator in the book – see if you can spot them. Piso’s internal grumbling in Chapter XXXIV was inspired by Russell Whitfield, a dear friend and author who walked the length of Hadrian’s Wall with me and fellow scribe Anthony Riches in 2013. Russ’s armour weighed much more than mine and Tony’s, as he never stopped reminding us. He liked to complain about the weather, his armour, his back, his feet and – well, you get the idea!
The expression ‘shoulder to shoulder’ may well have been used by Roman soldiers, but my intent in this book was to honour the modern-day warriors who play
rugby for Ireland. The hashtag #ShoulderToShoulder is used on social media when showing support for the Irish team. In Eagles at War, I also used the expression ‘Stand up and fight’, the Munster team’s call to arms. Leinster – my province – got a mention in this book, with their more difficult to place ‘Come on, you boys in blue’!
Although we know how legionaries were trained, and some of their fighting methods, much remains unknown. Wedge formations were used; so too was the ‘saw’. By the early first century AD, soldiers were wearing two belts, one for their sword and the other for their dagger and ‘apron’. The famous segmented armour was coming into use, but most legionaries still wore mail shirts. Many crimes were punishable with the death sentence, including theft from a comrade.
When trying to recreate how life might have been, it helps to travel to the places, or the general areas, where the historical events took place. I have been to northwest Germany three times now, researching this trilogy. There are lots of museums to visit, foremost among them the wonderful archaeological park at Xanten, historical Vetera and Colonia Ulpia Traiana. I highly recommend a visit, if only to see accurate reconstructions of a three-storey gate to the town, an amphitheatre, sizeable sections of wall, as well as workshops and a guesthouse. There’s even a Roman tavern and restaurant where you can eat food prepared using ancient recipes. Not far to the east is one of the best Roman museums I have visited, in the town of Haltern-am-See. Some hundred kilometres further inland is the Kalkriese battlefield and museum; the location is thought by many to be the actual site of the battle of the Teutoburg Forest. In the summer of 2016, a find of gold coins dated between 2 BC and AD 5 lent further weight to the argument, but this may have been countered by another discovery of what may be the outline of a Roman camp. Cologne, Mainz, Bonn and Trier, cities with more great Roman museums, are only a short drive further down the Rhine. So too is the stunning cohort-sized fort at Saalburg.