Eagles at War (14 page)

Wrong-footed, Varus managed only, ‘Arminius.’

‘The Usipetes are not happy,’ Arminius said, low-voiced, in Latin.

‘I will see what I can do to remedy that,’ snapped Varus. ‘Roman justice will be done.’ Any chance to continue talking was prevented by the optio’s formal presentation of the Usipetes’ chieftains. Varus struggled to control his temper as Arminius strolled back to stand with the tribesmen.

‘You are most welcome to Vetera,’ Varus announced. ‘I am Publius Quinctilius Varus, imperial governor of the province of Germania.’ Catching the blank stares of more than one of the party, he added, ‘Do any among you speak Latin?’

Only two of the chieftains nodded. ‘I’ll make sure the others understand,’ said the nearest, a thin individual with a mane of red hair.

‘I can interpret too, if needs be,’ Arminius offered. ‘From German to Latin, or the other way around.’

Varus seethed. He wanted to rebuke Arminius – ‘Act like the Roman citizen that you are!’ – but it would look bad, so he smiled instead. ‘If it is necessary. Perhaps it would be best to begin by hearing what you chiefs have to say.’

The instant that his words were translated, several of the Usipetes began to shout.

Varus had been in his job long enough to have picked up some German. The words ‘innocent’ and ‘murder’ were repeated over and over, as were a number of choice swear words. He was pleased when Red Head managed to calm his fellows. ‘I shall speak for us all, governor,’ he declared.

Varus inclined his head, acting as if no insults had been hurled. ‘Please begin.’

In a calm voice, Red Head explained how the twenty young Usipetes, who lived near the Roman road, had been instructed to move their fathers’ cattle to fresh grazing. ‘It’s an easy job, driving the beasts just a couple of miles. The herders get paid in barley beer, so everyone wants to do it.’ What should have been a pleasant task for a summer’s day, the chieftain explained, had turned violent when a Roman officer – here he threw a pointed look at Tubero – had ridden up and started screaming in Latin at the herdsmen, all of whom spoke nothing but their own tongue.

Without warning, the officer had ridden at the nearest youngster and cut him down. Some of the group had retaliated by throwing spears, forcing the officer to retreat. In a panic, they had fled, to be pursued soon after by Roman infantry and riders. ‘Three more men were slain or wounded so severely that they died. If not for a centurion with some wits, only Donar knows how many innocent lives would have been lost,’ said Red Head, to growls of anger from his companions. ‘What happened is an outrage! The Usipetes have been at peace with Rome for years. We sell our goods and our cattle to your merchants, and are shortly to pay our taxes. We give no trouble to the empire. And our reward is for four young men to be foully slain?’

‘The murderer must die!’ cried one of the chieftains in heavily accented Latin. His fellows shouted in agreement. ‘Give him to us that he may receive justice!’ demanded another.

Arminius said nothing, but his eyes darted to and fro, from Varus to the frightened-looking Tubero to the Usipetes and back again.

Varus raised his hands and the clamour abated. ‘I thank you for your account,’ he said to Red Head. ‘I have also read the reports of the two most senior Roman officers who were present. I have been led to several conclusions. The intervention was made because the officer in question believed that the young men were Sugambri rustlers. By challenging them, he was endeavouring to capture wrongdoers – thieves.’ Ignoring the incredulous expression on Red Head’s face, he ploughed on, ‘Their aggressive reaction to his challenge led him to conclude that they were indeed the cattle rustlers. After his initial attempt to force them to surrender failed, he sought out the main body of the patrol. It is unfortunate that several more of the “thieves” were injured or killed before it became clear that they were not Tencteri. In light of this most regrettable incident, I wish to express my sympathies to the dead men’s families, and to offer substantial compensation.’ Varus halted, to allow what he’d said to be interpreted.

There was pandemonium as his meaning became clear to the Usipetes’ chieftains. None of them were foolish enough to lay hands to their weapons, but they shook their fists and spat obscenities at both Varus and Tubero.

Varus waited in stony silence until some level of calm had returned. ‘Your companions are not pleased?’

The red-haired chief shook his head. ‘This is no kind of justice, governor! What happened was cold-blooded murder, and the perpetrator must be punished.’

‘He will be,’ replied Varus, noting with satisfaction Tubero’s continuing alarm. The boy’s smug attitude needed adjusting. ‘I shall see to it myself.’

‘Hand him over to us.’

‘You know that will not happen. He is a Roman noble, of high military rank.’

‘That is your final word?’

‘It is,’ answered Varus with a cold look.

‘There is one law for the Romans, and one for everyone else,’ said Red Head with disgust. He translated for his fellows, who again gave vent to their unhappiness. He turned back to Varus. ‘How much will you pay for each man’s life?’

Before Varus could reply, Arminius stepped forward. ‘I thought a figure of two thousand denarii per man might provide suitable recompense.’

Taken by surprise again, a furious Varus watched as Red Head relayed this sum, to great excitement. ‘What else can we do but accept?’ he thought he heard one man say. Varus’ anger eased a little at this, and he held his peace. A dozen heartbeats later, Red Head declared, ‘My fellow chieftains remain unhappy, but they will accept two thousand denarii for each of the dead, with one proviso. You must give an assurance that this will never happen again.’

Varus flashed his politician’s smile, all polish and no substance. ‘I give you my word as governor of Germania that all law-abiding Usipetes will be left in peace from this day forward. I will have the money drawn up at once, so that you may depart with it.’

Red Head gave a tight nod. ‘So be it.’

As the Usipetes conferred, Varus addressed Vala. ‘Dismiss the officers, but leave the soldiers on guard until the tribesmen have left.’ He called next to Arminius, who was talking with Red Head and the rest. ‘A word, if you will.’

Arminius joined Varus with a smile. ‘That was a satisfactory result, don’t you think?’

‘What do you think you were doing?’ hissed Varus.

Arminius’ face registered wounded innocence. ‘I don’t understand?’

‘You arrived with the Usipetes. What kind of message does that give them? You are a citizen ally of Rome. An equestrian!’

‘My apologies, governor. My entrance was unintentional, I assure you. I was late getting to the principia, and I chanced upon them outside. We fell into conversation. The chieftains felt intimidated coming here, and concerned that they would not receive justice. I offered to accompany them inside, and said that you were an even-handed man, a man of integrity.’

‘Neither was it your place to offer them two thousand denarii per man,’ Varus snapped. ‘That is an extortionate sum!’

Arminius bowed his head. ‘Forgive me for being presumptuous, governor. I wanted the Usipetes to feel that they were being shown respect. They suspected that you would not hand over Tubero before they came in. Their pride had to be assuaged in some manner, and the only way that that seemed possible was to make them a generous offer.’

‘It needn’t have been that much. I’d wager they would have accepted half the amount.’

Arminius had the grace to flush. ‘I can only apologise again, governor. I was trying to help, but I should have remained silent.’

Arminius’ humility helped to ease Varus’ anger. What made the real difference, though, was the knowledge that peace – the all-important peace – had been maintained for what, in the greater scheme of things, was a small sum. He sighed. ‘Let’s put the matter behind us, eh?’

‘Thank you, governor.’ Arminius cast him a stealthy look. ‘By way of further apology, could I tempt you with a hunting trip on the other side of the river? My second-in-command has found an area with a rich concentration of boar and deer. It would make a fine day out, and an escape from your paperwork.’

Varus was about to reject the reconciliatory gesture, when he changed his mind. ‘Damn it, why not?’

‘Excellent. If you have no objection, I’ll ask Centurion Tullus as well. Would two days hence suit?’

‘It would,’ replied Varus, smiling at last. ‘Thank you, Arminius.’

‘The pleasure will be mine, governor. I’ll call at the praetoria for you soon after dawn.’ Arminius half bowed and walked away.

Varus watched the Usipetes leaving the great hall in an unruly gaggle. If only all Germans were like Arminius, he thought. The world would be a more civilised place, and my life – everyone’s lives – would be that much easier.

VII

PISO, AFER AND
Vitellius had found one of the best tables in the tavern that night. It was against the back wall, allowing them to set their backs against it as they drank, and to see everyone in the room. The establishment was popular with legionaries, in the main because it was owned and run by a veteran, a toothless reprobate by the name of Claudius. His goodwill towards serving soldiers went as far as extending credit, a practice that few other innkeepers in the vicus were prepared to emulate. As a consequence, Claudius’ tavern was always heaving. It didn’t matter that the wine was poor, and the food worse again, or that the whores were as rough as bears’ arses, and the latrines full to overflowing. A soldier knew he could drink there, even if payday wasn’t for another three months.

The three had been on the patrol, and heard since about Varus’ interrogation of Tullus, and the confrontation with the Usipetes. They had been talking about little else since they had arrived. Well, Afer and Vitellius had been discussing it, and Piso had been listening. He was more accepted in the contubernium now, but when it came to discussing important issues, he yet preferred to keep his counsel.

‘Varus is still more likely to take Tubero’s word over Tullus’,’ said Afer for the third or fourth time. He scowled. ‘It’s a sad fucking day when a wet-behind-the-ears tribune gets believed before a career centurion.’

‘It won’t have been the first time, and it won’t have been the last,’ retorted Vitellius.

The close proximity of their nearest neighbours, a dozen legionaries seated around a long table, meant that despite the clamour, their conversation could be overheard. One of them, recognisable anywhere by a nose that had been broken so many times that it resembled a piece of baker’s dough, turned around. ‘Varus is wise to that jumped-up little prick Tubero, never fear.’

‘Were you in the principia?’ asked Piso.

‘Aye. All of us were.’ He eyed his companions, who were arguing over where to go next. ‘Tubero tried to speak to Varus before the Usipetes got there, but Varus cut him off. He grilled Tullus hard enough – is that your centurion?’ He glanced at the friends, who nodded. ‘We couldn’t hear what was said, but it seemed as if Varus believed him.’

‘That’s good news,’ said Vitellius, his face brightening. Afer raised his cup in salute; so did Piso.

Broken Nose thrust out his hand. ‘Marcus Aius, Second Century, First Cohort.’ From nowhere, he produced a pair of worn bone dice. ‘Any of you like to play?’

‘Aius.’ It was one of his companions.

‘Leave me alone,’ Aius growled.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ said the legionary. He glanced at Piso and Afer. ‘This man would gamble on two flies circling a fresh turd. Trouble is, he’s wont to pick the wrong one.’

‘Piss off,’ said Aius, but in an amicable tone. He eyed the friends. ‘Well?’

‘I’ll have a game,’ said Piso, producing his own dice. ‘Afer?’

‘Why not?’

‘Small change only,’ said Aius, dumping a little pile of asses and other low-denomination coins on the table.

Vitellius went to refill their jug. Upon his return, he joined in for a short while, but after losing several bouts to Aius, withdrew. Afer was doing better, although by the time the wine had been finished, was down somewhat on where he’d started. Piso had fared similarly, yet when his friends suggested moving on to a different tavern, he shook his head. ‘My luck will change,’ he said.

‘Of course it will,’ agreed Aius with a wink.

Afer flicked his eyes at Aius’ companions, and then the door. Piso understood that he meant it would be best if they left together. ‘Six more rolls,’ he said. ‘Fortuna’s in a good mood with me tonight.’

‘She hasn’t shown much sign of that so far,’ said Afer, but he relaxed on his seat. So too did Vitellius. ‘We’re leaving after that,’ he ordered.

‘Let’s raise the bet to five asses,’ said Aius. ‘One sestertius.’

Piso wasn’t going to back down now. ‘All right.’ Blowing on the dice, he threw them on the table. ‘Two sixes!’

Aius’ eyebrows rose. He rolled, and got a three and a two. ‘Here you go.’ He slid five asses towards Piso.

A devilment took Piso. ‘Double or quits?’

‘Why not?’ retorted Aius. ‘I’ll go first this time.’ His dice spun and turned, coming to rest on a four and a five. ‘Ha!’