Arminius Read online

  The approach of armed men caused no consternation for Thumelicatz and his kin, as tied to the tips of their spears were branches of beech with freshly sprouted leaves, the sign of peaceful intent. Nonetheless, the dozen men living within the compound had retrieved their weapons from the longhouse at its centre and now stood on the walkway that ran the length of the palisade surrounding the small settlement. Only Thumelicatz remained unarmed, standing in the open gateway. Yet he was not unprotected; to either side of him stood two huge, shorthaired brindle hunting dogs; they growled deep in their throats, as the three horsemen drew nearer.

  Thumelicatz tapped the muzzles of both dogs. ‘Beisser, Reisser, stumm!’ The dogs immediately ceased their noise and looked up to their master, ready to follow his lead in however he chose to react to the new arrivals.

  Thumelicatz’s eyes squinted in deep sockets against the lowering sun; he rubbed his beard, now grown so full that it climbed almost to his high cheekbones, and then ran a finger along thin, pale lips as he scrutinised the three warriors, now less than a hundred paces away. Looking up to the man nearest to him on the left-hand side of the palisade, he frowned. ‘Chatti?’

  The man grunted and then nodded his head. ‘Yes, lord, they’re all wearing iron collars; front rank infantry, the bravest of their warriors.’

  ‘How long is it since Chatti have ventured into our lands, Aldhard?’

  ‘Five years ago; the year before you returned, my lord. But they came with their swords unsheathed and the points of their spears bared; we stopped them as they tried to cross the Visurgis River. It was a hard fight and we lost a good few men that day; their blood-price has yet to be repaid.’

  Thumelicatz nodded; he had heard the songs about the last Chatti raid into Cheruscian territory in the year before he had won the wooden sword. The year before he and his mother had endured the harsh crossing of the mountains, fleeing Italia for Germania.

  The three warriors cantered the last part of the way across open ground and pulled up their mounts twenty paces short of Thumelicatz. They each presented their leaf-adorned spears, holding them high in the air so there could be no mistaking their intent.

  Thumelicatz studied the men; all had long, flaxen hair, tied in a top-knot, and flowing, well-kept beards that partially obscured the iron collars, three fingers thick, around their necks. Two were his age, mid-twenties, but the blond of the central rider’s beard was flecked with silver and his ice-blue eyes had weathered wrinkles in their corners; Thumelicatz addressed himself to him. ‘What brings you so far from your homeland?’

  ‘My name is Warinhari and I come from the Hall of Adgandestrius, the king of the Chatti; I am his son. My father sends his greetings to Thumelicatz, son of Erminatz; do I have the honour of addressing him?’

  ‘I am who you seek.’

  ‘It is a privilege to meet the son of Germania’s greatest warrior; thirty-two years ago this autumn, when I had but sixteen summers, I fought with your father in the Teutoburg Wald.’

  Thumelicatz smiled to himself; there was not one warrior in the north of Germania Magna over the age of forty-five who would not claim to having been present at the battle that stopped Rome’s march eastwards and showed her the limits of empire. ‘I’m told that the Chatti fought bravely – once they had charged.’

  Warinhari inclined his head at the backhanded compliment, refusing to acknowledge the jibe: the Chatti had stood back for the first two days and had not committed their forces until the outcome was almost assured. ‘The Chatti always fight bravely.’

  ‘What does Adgandestrius want with me? The last time he wanted anything from my family it was my father’s death.’

  ‘That was a generation ago; he was protecting his position after the breakup of the alliance that your father had built. Now things are different and my father has a proposition for you concerning the safety of all the tribes of Germania; it is something that must be considered by the hearth, not in the open. I must discuss it with you soon for a decision needs to be made by tomorrow, two days before the full moon.’

  Thumelicatz looked up to Aldhard who had listened to the whole conversation; with a discreet nod of his head he showed his agreement. Thumelicatz turned back to the visitors. ‘Very well, I accept the tokens of peace, you may enter. Bear your weapons with honour and cause no harm to any person within.’

  Although the day was warm a fire burned in the round hearth in the exact centre of the longhouse; its fumes partially obscured the gabled, thatched roof as they struggled to get out through a hole in its apex. Hams and fish hung from the rafters, curing in the smoke. Apart from a scattering of tables and benches on its rush-strewn floor, the longhouse was bare. Thumelicatz led Warinhari to a plain wooden table next to the fire and bid him to be seated on a bench on one side. Sitting opposite him he clapped his hands; an old slave appeared from behind a leather curtain at the far end of the room; his thin grey hair was cut short, Roman style, but his beard was long and ragged.

  The slave bowed. ‘Yes, master.’

  ‘Serve us beer, smoked meat and bread and send word to my mother to join us.’

  ‘Yes, master.’ The old slave turned to go, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

  ‘And Aius.’

  The slave stopped and turned to face his master.

  ‘Take food and drink to this man’s companions waiting outside and tell Tiburtius to rub down my guests’ horses.’

  ‘Yes, master.’

  As Aius left, Thumelicatz turned to Warinhari. ‘That slave and his comrade Tiburtius both served my father.’

  ‘Roman?’

  ‘Of course, part of Varus’ army captured at Teutoburg.’

  Warinhari furrowed his brow, quizzically.

  ‘They swore by all their gods never to try to escape so my father spared them from the fires of our gods; they served him faithfully even after his death. When I returned I found them still at my father’s longhouse, looking after his horses and hunting dogs, polishing his weapons and armour, cutting and spreading fresh rushes on the floor and keeping his hearth-fire burning. It was as if he hadn’t been dead for fifteen years.’

  ‘They must have loved him.’

  ‘Loved him? I doubt it; you should know well that men didn’t love my father. But all who knew him feared him for there was nothing that he would not dare do; no boundaries he would not break; no limits he would not exceed.’

  Warinhari nodded, his eyes distant with reflection. ‘He was a dangerous man – both for his friends as well as his enemies.’

  ‘And for his kin,’ a silhouetted woman said from the doorway; her hair fell wild about her, bones woven into its midst chinked as she moved.

  Thumelicatz stood. ‘Mother, this man’s name is Warinhari; he comes under a branch of truce with a proposition from his father, King Adgandestrius. I wish you to listen to him with me.’

  Thusnelda stared at Warinhari as he rose from the bench and bowed; her deep blue eyes became slits and her face creased into an age-lined scowl. ‘Why should I listen to the messenger of the man who offered the Emperor Tiberius to kill my husband?’

  ‘Because we are living in different times, Mother; and besides, Tiberius refused the offer.’

  Thusnelda spat into the rushes. ‘Because he had more honour, despite being a Roman, than that weasel of a Chatti king.’

  ‘Mother, that is all in the past. Adgandestrius would not have sent his son here unless he wanted the proposition to be taken very seriously; we should listen to him.’

  Thusnelda dipped her hand into a leather bag hanging from her belt and fiddled with something within; it seemed to calm her. ‘Very well,’ she conceded as Aius shuffled back in with a tray, ‘but I warn you, Thumelicatz, this man will tempt you to break an oath – the bones have spoken.’

  Thusnelda sat next to her son, glaring at the visitor while Aius poured them each a horn of beer and then left them with a plate of bread and cold meat between them on the table next to a sputtering tallow candle.
/>   Thumelicatz took a deep draught of his ale and set down the horn. ‘Well, Warinhari, what is your father’s proposition that he feels is so important that he would risk a son to bring it to me?’

  ‘It has to do with Rome.’

  ‘Then you’re wasting your time; Rome has torn my family apart.’ Thumelicatz pulled out a hammer amulet, hanging around his neck under his tunic. ‘I swore to Donar the Thunderer never to have anything to do with that ravenous beast of an empire again. I sealed the oath with the sacrifice of my treacherous uncle and his wife; and then, when the Thunderer had fulfilled his part of the bargain and brought my mother and me home, I confirmed it with three Roman merchants burned in wicker men in the same sacred grove that my grandfather, Siegimeri, was forced to hand over his two sons to the Roman general, Drusus, as a hostage.’

  ‘The story is well known: at the age of nine your father and his younger brother were taken to Rome.’

  Thusnelda leant forward, putting her arm around Thumelicatz. ‘And I too was taken and Erminatz never saw his son; my disloyal father, Segestes, delivered me up to Germanicus, whilst I was with child. I was taken to Rome and gave birth there. Two years later my father watched as an honoured guest of the Emperor as I and my son and brother were paraded through the streets in Germanicus’ Triumph. His loyalty was more to Rome’s riches and the power they could bring him rather than to his kin; to prove it finally he helped murder my husband with his own younger brother. We want nothing of Rome ever again; now go!’

  Warinhari stared over the table at the mother and son, their faces set rigid; he drained his horn. ‘I understand the strength of your feeling and believe me when I say that I and my father feel the same hatred of Rome. However, Rome is a reality; even here in Germania Magna we still feel her power. Which tribe between the Rhenus and the Albis rivers does not have treaties with Rome that force them to provide young men for her auxiliaries and pay tribute into her coffers? Every one; the Chatti, the Frisii, the Chauci, the Angrivarii, all of them, even you, the Cherusci.’

  Thumelicatz slammed his palm down on the table causing the candle to gutter and spit. ‘That proves nothing!’

  ‘It proves that the arm of Rome is long and the tribes of Germania are too weak to resist it.’

  ‘But we are still free, Warinhari, there is no Roman governor here; the towns Rome built before my father defeated her have crumbled and returned to the forest, and we enjoy our own laws. How much more freedom can we expect?’

  ‘The freedom that comes from not living in fear every year of a fresh invasion.’

  ‘Rome’s expansion east has halted, my father saw to that.’

  ‘Halted or faltered? Has it really stopped? Can you look into your heart and know for certain that Rome will not try again?’

  Thumelicatz rubbed his beard with both hands, his elbows resting on the table, staring at the thin stream of smoke spiralling up from the freshly extinguished candle. ‘No,’ he said after a short while. ‘No, I cannot; as Rome expands she makes more citizens who are eligible to serve in her legions. Unless there is a plague her manpower is always going to grow; soon the three legions that my father destroyed will be replaced and then Rome may well come again.’

  ‘Exactly; so we must ensure that Rome is too busy elsewhere to be able to come.’

  Thumelicatz raised his eyes and met Warinhari’s gaze. ‘How?’

  ‘Two days ago some Romans arrived at my father’s hall in Mattium; they were looking for you. They have a knife that belonged to your father which they hope to give you in return for you meeting with them.’

  ‘My father’s knife? How can they be sure?’

  ‘It has “Erminatz” engraved in runic figures down the blade; I have seen it and it looks to be genuine.’

  ‘How did they come to possess it?’

  ‘Two of them claim to be the sons of the centurion who escorted your father from his people to the Rhenus and then on to Rome when he was taken hostage.’

  ‘Erminatz gave the centurion his knife,’ Thusnelda confirmed. ‘He told me that he asked him to give it to his mother when he returned; he never did, though, the dishonest Roman pig. What makes you think that the sons of a thief are to be trusted?’

  ‘My father, Adgandestrius, always speaks the truth and so can tell a lie; these men are genuine.’

  ‘Why do they want to meet with me?’ Thumelicatz asked, picking up the jug and filling Warinhari’s horn.

  ‘They want to know where the lost Eagle of the Seventeenth legion that your father took at Teutoburg can be found.’

  Thumelicatz thumped the jug back down, beer slopping over its rim, as he broke into a mirthless laugh. ‘They would exchange a knife for an Eagle? Even Erminatz would not put such a price upon his blade.’

  Warinhari did not share the laughter. ‘Whilst that Eagle remains on Germanic soil, Rome will always come looking for it. Germanicus came back five years after Teutoburg and again the following year and defeated your father three times. He came back not just for revenge but also to restore Roman pride; he came back to retrieve the three Eagles lost at Teutoburg. Do you think that he would have come back if it wasn’t for the Eagles? However, he had only found those of the Eighteenth and Nineteenth legions before Tiberius, jealous and fearful of his accomplishments, recalled him to Rome.’

  ‘And no one’s been back since.’

  ‘Until now.’

  ‘A few Romans with a knife?’

  ‘It’s the start. Only your father knew which of the six tribes that took part in the battle received the Eagles. Germanicus found the Marsi’s and the Bructeri’s and we received the Capricorn emblem of the Nineteenth Legion; so that just leaves your tribe and the Chauci or the Sugambri. Do you know where this Eagle is?’

  Thumelicatz hesitated and then nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Will you help these Romans to retrieve it?’

  Thumelicatz grasped the hammer pendant around his neck. ‘If I did, Donar would strike me with a bolt from above for breaking my oath.’

  ‘Even if your actions secured his people’s freedom for generations to come?’

  ‘How would the return of one Eagle stop Rome ever trying to spread her empire across the Rhenus again?’

  Warinhari smiled and leant his face closer. ‘Rome has a new Emperor, Claudius; a fool who drools, we are told. The men who benefit from his being in power naturally want to keep him there; to do this they need the army to love Claudius so that they’ll gain a victory for him so large that it will secure his position with the people.’

  ‘And this Eagle will gain Claudius the army’s love?’

  ‘Yes, Rome still feels shame at its loss. If Claudius is seen as being responsible for its retrieval then his legions may do what they didn’t do for his predecessor, Caligula: they will embark on ships and invade Britannia.’

  A smile of comprehension gradually spread over Thumelicatz’s face. ‘Four, maybe even five, legions and their auxiliaries.’ Warinhari nodded.

  ‘Exactly; and every one drawn from either the Rhenus garrison or the Danuvius to our south. With that number of troops tied down across the Northern Sea we—’

  ‘Will be safe from invasion for generations,’ Thumelicatz said, finishing the sentence.

  ‘Yes; safe for a hundred or two hundred years, by which time, perhaps, we will be stronger than Rome and can threaten her western provinces.’

  ‘And beat her back to ensure a Germanic future for the west.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Where are these Romans?’

  Thusnelda grabbed her son’s arm. ‘What of your oath, my son?’

  ‘Mother, the Thunderer will understand why I do this and forgive me this once; I will show these Romans to the Eagle and keep his people safe from conquest whilst they grow stronger.’

  ‘You do the right thing, Thumelicatz,’ Warinhari said. ‘In three days’ time at the full moon, the Romans will be at the Chalk Giant in the northern reaches of the Teutoburg Wald where, in its shad
ow in the Teutoburg Pass, Varus made his last stand on the fourth day of the battle.’

  Thumelicatz held Warinhari’s gaze for a few moments as the decision hardened within him. Slowly he nodded. ‘I will be there, Warinhari, I swear. I will hear what the Romans have to say and then, if I deem them honourable, I will, whatever the cost, help them get their Eagle back.’

  A strong breeze blew from the south, filling the leather sails of four fat-bellied longboats sailing with the current down the Visurgis River. That morning, Thumelicatz and his kin had loaded their baggage and horses into the boats, housed in a crumbling Roman river port, and sailed north. They had ridden down from the Harzland the day after Warinhari’s arrival and crossed the lowlands to its west, arriving at the river by evening to camp on its banks. Aldhard had been sent on ahead the day before with four men, travelling at night, to prepare the meeting place in accordance with their lord’s wishes.

  Thumelicatz stood with his mother on the fighting platform at the bow of the lead boat; he inhaled deeply of the crisp, morning air as he watched water-fowl diving in the shallows. ‘The air is getting cooler, the Ice Gods are close; no more than two or three days away, I should think.’

  Thusnelda cursed under her breath.

  ‘What is it, Mother?’

  ‘The time of the Ice Gods is not auspicious for us. It was during the three days that they roam the earth, bringing frost in May, that your father was given up to Rome as a hostage. At the same time of year I was betrayed to Germanicus by my own father; and he and Chlodochar also killed Erminatz while there was ice on the lakes during the spring mornings.’

  ‘That’s just coincidence.’

  ‘There is no such thing. The three Norns sit and weave the threads of fate of every man’s life; all is set out in advance.’ Her hand delved into the leather bag at her waist and brought out five straight, carved, thin bones covered on all four sides in runes. ‘If it were not so, how could the Rune Bones predict the future?’