good?’ Maelo rolled his eyes. ‘He’ll send us all mad.’
‘It won’t be forever. We can release him when next year’s campaigning season is over. Men’s heads then will be full of our victories over the Romans. They won’t listen to him.’
‘And his guards?’ Maelo drew a sly finger across his throat.
‘No. We must not create ill will in the minds of men such as Inguiomerus. He’s our ally, but he is still a friend to Segestes. Just get the guards pissed at the feast tonight, so they can be disarmed. Once that’s done, we’ll explain to Segestes how it’s going to be. He can keep two warriors as company. The rest we’ll send home.’
Maelo gave him an approving look. ‘A fine plan.’
‘Segestes won’t be feeling so clever this time tomorrow,’ said Arminius, smiling. With his father-in-law out of the way, he would be able to concentrate on recruiting tribes to his cause.
Come the spring, his gut told him, he would again have twenty thousand spears to call on.
Germanicus and his legions would not know what had hit them.
Chapter IV
TULLUS WAS WALKING back to his unit’s position from a friend’s tent, where he had consumed a decent quantity of wine, and put the world to rights. A fuzzy good mood encased him – the world always seemed a better place after an evening drinking in agreeable company. Despite the warm glow in his belly, it was impossible not to notice that the legionaries outside their tents seemed quieter than usual. Of an evening, it was the norm for men to sit and stand about, bantering with one another, telling filthy jokes and talking in loud voices. There was none of that tonight.
Tullus was accustomed to men avoiding his centurion’s gaze. Now he felt the weight of many stares as he passed each little group. If he turned his head, however, the soldiers were quick to look away, or to study their campfires. Tullus didn’t like it one bit, but he would prove nothing by challenging everyone in his path, so he marched on, affecting not to notice the unusual and unwanted attention.
The legionaries’ mood was linked to the disquieting calm that had enveloped the camp as the news of Augustus’ passing had spread – he was sure of it. Tullus had experienced something equally disconcerting once before, during the terrible time that had followed the ambush in the forest. The low morale and sad mood then had been because of a shattering defeat, not an emperor’s death, but the feeling in the air now was angrier. More dangerous. Tullus worried that it was linked to the continuing rumours of unrest among the legionaries, and prayed with the same breath that it was not.
Matters weren’t being helped by the inaction of Aulus Caecina Severus, the governor of Germania Inferior. Tullus couldn’t work out Caecina’s motive for doing nothing – in
his
book, decisiveness was
always
better than indecisiveness. Yet Caecina had delivered no impassioned speech praising Augustus’ rule and looking forward to Tiberius’ steady hand at the empire’s helm. In fact, he had made no announcements at all. He hadn’t even ordered a parade in honour of the dead emperor, which would have raised spirits and provided cause for drunken celebration. Germanicus might have done something, but
he
was far away in Gallia Belgica, supervising the collection of tax information.
The air of foreboding was added to by the soothsayers who had appeared in the camp, attracted like wolves to a fresh carcase. Patrolling the avenues, they offered their services without challenge, and proclaimed that tumultuous times awaited everyone in the empire. Tullus had heard one startling revelation from a soothsayer in the past, but it had not altered his opinion that the vast majority of them were complete charlatans. The day before, he had personally run off the first one spotted by his century’s lines, beating the man with his
vitis
, or vine stick, until his arm grew tired. He had ordered the sentries to mete out
‘It won’t be forever. We can release him when next year’s campaigning season is over. Men’s heads then will be full of our victories over the Romans. They won’t listen to him.’
‘And his guards?’ Maelo drew a sly finger across his throat.
‘No. We must not create ill will in the minds of men such as Inguiomerus. He’s our ally, but he is still a friend to Segestes. Just get the guards pissed at the feast tonight, so they can be disarmed. Once that’s done, we’ll explain to Segestes how it’s going to be. He can keep two warriors as company. The rest we’ll send home.’
Maelo gave him an approving look. ‘A fine plan.’
‘Segestes won’t be feeling so clever this time tomorrow,’ said Arminius, smiling. With his father-in-law out of the way, he would be able to concentrate on recruiting tribes to his cause.
Come the spring, his gut told him, he would again have twenty thousand spears to call on.
Germanicus and his legions would not know what had hit them.
Chapter IV
TULLUS WAS WALKING back to his unit’s position from a friend’s tent, where he had consumed a decent quantity of wine, and put the world to rights. A fuzzy good mood encased him – the world always seemed a better place after an evening drinking in agreeable company. Despite the warm glow in his belly, it was impossible not to notice that the legionaries outside their tents seemed quieter than usual. Of an evening, it was the norm for men to sit and stand about, bantering with one another, telling filthy jokes and talking in loud voices. There was none of that tonight.
Tullus was accustomed to men avoiding his centurion’s gaze. Now he felt the weight of many stares as he passed each little group. If he turned his head, however, the soldiers were quick to look away, or to study their campfires. Tullus didn’t like it one bit, but he would prove nothing by challenging everyone in his path, so he marched on, affecting not to notice the unusual and unwanted attention.
The legionaries’ mood was linked to the disquieting calm that had enveloped the camp as the news of Augustus’ passing had spread – he was sure of it. Tullus had experienced something equally disconcerting once before, during the terrible time that had followed the ambush in the forest. The low morale and sad mood then had been because of a shattering defeat, not an emperor’s death, but the feeling in the air now was angrier. More dangerous. Tullus worried that it was linked to the continuing rumours of unrest among the legionaries, and prayed with the same breath that it was not.
Matters weren’t being helped by the inaction of Aulus Caecina Severus, the governor of Germania Inferior. Tullus couldn’t work out Caecina’s motive for doing nothing – in
his
book, decisiveness was
always
better than indecisiveness. Yet Caecina had delivered no impassioned speech praising Augustus’ rule and looking forward to Tiberius’ steady hand at the empire’s helm. In fact, he had made no announcements at all. He hadn’t even ordered a parade in honour of the dead emperor, which would have raised spirits and provided cause for drunken celebration. Germanicus might have done something, but
he
was far away in Gallia Belgica, supervising the collection of tax information.
The air of foreboding was added to by the soothsayers who had appeared in the camp, attracted like wolves to a fresh carcase. Patrolling the avenues, they offered their services without challenge, and proclaimed that tumultuous times awaited everyone in the empire. Tullus had heard one startling revelation from a soothsayer in the past, but it had not altered his opinion that the vast majority of them were complete charlatans. The day before, he had personally run off the first one spotted by his century’s lines, beating the man with his
vitis
, or vine stick, until his arm grew tired. He had ordered the sentries to mete out
Similar Books
