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Note:— The events in this chapter take place on the same day as those described in the previous two chapters.
If readers are wondering why there has been little real action so far — the Teutoburg clash was not a single battle but a series of guerrilla attacks against the Roman army column as it made its way through the forest; only ending with General Varus's final cataclysmic defeat near Kalkriese Hill, after several days of continuous skirmishing! I am mostly following this real chronology in my story; so the actual true fighting, in which Xena Gabrielle and the Amazons will take a large part, begins in the next chapter!
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Chapter 4. Day 2.
'An Army on the March'
General Varus
The sky was now wholly overcast with leaden grey clouds from which fell rain of a constant and purposeful nature. In the centre of the long extended line of soldiers and camp-followers, now reaching nearly a parasang in length, General Varus rode sedately and majestically; not merely through pride, but also simple necessity. The ground was wild heath; with bunches of tall spiky grass between shorter turf covering earth that had now begun to turn to thin mud, making everyone take extra care with their mounts. There weren't so many spare horses accompanying the march that any could be viewed as expendable. They had recently crossed the very edge of the extensive forest; with a line of rolling hills visible on the near horizon, and were just beginning to be enclosed by encroaching trees which cut off much of the sky above them, and any further distant view. A certain gloom in the soldier's spirits had set in along with the grey skies and rain.
Those few road-pioneers sent ahead to clear the main line of their intended track had been viewed as a necessity by the General, but he had baulked at ordering scouts to sweep further forward; seeing this as needless. It was on this point he was now engaged in an argument with Numonius Vala.
"No, Legatus!" he glared at the man riding beside him. "Scouts? Why? They would only report on the farmers and charcoal-burners. No-one else lives in this forsaken place!"
"Sire! It is necessary! Without scouts we are blind to what lies ahead!" Numonius stuck doggedly to his argument. "My Legions require information about the lie of the land, and any possible foes!"
"I say what the Legions require, Numonius!" General Varus snapped the words coldly. "I lead this army, not you! And I say scouts are unnecessary. There is nothing for them to report on; they would simply be a waste of time. I do not wish this trek extended any further than need be! I'm not going to stroll slowly through this wetland, awaiting constant messages from a multitude of scouts riding a parasang or more ahead of us! No! We move as fast as we can: which, as the Gods' know, is slowly enough anyway! I mean to reach these discontented tribal factions quickly, and put them out of their misery! Then turn and head for my Winter camp in the south. Scouts will just be a hindrance!"
"Every Legion must have scou—"
"It is all down to terrain—the lie of the land—and an intimate knowledge of the type of natives who live on that land, Legatus!" Varus succumbed to his innate habit of lecturing those around him. "And I have that experience! I know what's going on in this Gods' forsaken stretch of Hades that calls itself Germania! And I can tell you, Legatus, the only people within a day's journey are a few charcoal-burners, and even fewer farmers tilling muddy weed-covered fields! Why, you will tell me next you're afraid there may be Amazons hiding in the forest waiting to ambush us! Ha!-ha! Go—see to your Auxiliaries! They should be enough to keep you from worrying overmuch!"
Numonius looked darkly at the heavy-set figure of the General, then pulled on his reins and rode off towards the rear of the column without another word. At the start of the march General Varus had taken pains to explain in detail to his Legatus that, contrary to tradition, he would himself take command of the Legions; leaving only the cohorts of Auxiliaries under the control of Vala. To say Numonius was taken aback would be understating the case. For once in his life he threw caution to the winds and faced-off with the General. A Legatus was the acknowledged leader of the Legions in any Province; and although the Provincial-Governor out-ranked him technically, as written on a scroll, this was hardly ever pursued in reality. Varus, however, had decided to take the letter of the Law as written, and so proclaim himself overall military commander; at least for the duration of the march. He had therefore reduced Legatus Vala to the secondary role of heading the 6 cohorts of Auxiliaries; none of which were in military formation in the column anyway: a state of affairs which also included the three Legions. As Numonius rode off scowling General Varus merely smiled and turned to his personal officer riding alongside him.
"Still a young man for his rank, Ceionius, but he will no doubt learn manners eventually!" A deep laugh rippled through the General's heavy frame. "Thank the Gods I am here to stop him taking unnecessary risks! I can just see him making camp twice a day, and waiting for hours for news from his army of scouts! Take him about a month to make contact with the rebels; maybe another month to subdue them; then another month to finally reach the Winter camp. By which time he'll need to be thinking about returning to the Summer camp again, ha!"
"Was it altogether wise to relieve him of his Legions though, sire?" The haughty man looked at his superior as they rode over the damp grass. "It has irritated him; and I believe the legionaries themselves are somewhat critical!"
"It's for his own good, Ceionius!" Varus grunted unashamedly. "He's been somewhat above himself for months now. Needs taught a lesson! And as for the soldiers—they live by grumbling! Never seen a cohort of legionaries that didn't grumble—it's in their nature! Why, if they had nothing to complain of they'd be unhappier than they are now, believe me!"
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Lucius Caecilius
There was indeed confusion in the ranks of the discontented legionaries scattered through the winding mass of the army's ranks. Trained to perfection in military exercises and routine they immediately felt—on being ordered to march interspersed with the camp-followers—they were being taken advantage of. Each man had long known of the growing dislike between their Legatus—whom they respected—and the officious, cold, and dangerous Provincial-General—who was mostly feared because of his well-known harshness. And now this unprecedented order for the soldiers to break ranks and march out of formation was taken as a disciplinary act by the General against them all.
Lucius Caecilius and his ala of 500 cavalrymen were to some extent immune from this, being under his sole command—but he knew he had only so much lee-way. Unlike the soldiers of the three Legions and 6 Cohorts of Auxiliaries he had kept his men mounted together in a tight formation. He had chosen to place them near the rear of the column and was now surprised to see, bearing down on him, the mounted figure of the displaced Legatus; obviously intent on converse.
Numonius brought his horse's head round with a jerk of the reins and fell into step at Lucius's left hand. Immediately in front of the cavalry unit was a slow-moving large wagon with wide wheels, hauled by no less than eight ass's; while behind the horsemen were a raggle-taggle group of women, slaves, and many unhappy-looking legionaries carrying various bundles over their shoulders—all hunched with lowered heads against the steady rain driving into everyone's faces.
"Damned awful weather, is it not, Commander?" Vala looked over at the officer without attempting a smile; his brow wet with raindrops. "How are you managing?"
"Well enough, Legatus." Lucius was inclined to be friendly—after all, Vala had not been overly aggressive towards him in the few days he had spent with the General's army. "At least I have kept my men together! I don't understand General Varus's thinking in dispersing his soldiers through the column. Weakens his fighting capability, I'd have said. But perhaps he has some other reason?"
"He wants to keep the power in his own fist, Lucius!" Vala glanced at the young man riding by his side. "General Varus; like so many others who came to power through the Legions, knows that the soldiers are the source of strength and authority in Roman politics. Being a Governor of a large Province obviously gives great standing; but he requires the safety of knowing he still controls the army as well! So he keeps the soldiers under his own thumb!"
"And you out of a job!" Lucius eyed the able-bodied man riding beside him. "Leaving you only 6 cohorts of Auxiliaries is not the best way of showing confidence in you, eh?"
"Varus has little confidence in anyone—if by confidence you mean trust!" Vala seemed willing to talk with another cavalry officer about his grievances; especially one who had not so far had much contact with the Provincial-Governor. "General Varus trusts no-one outside Rome: and very few inside Rome, come to that!"
"Ah! He has his own agenda!" Lucius nodded knowingly. He too had experienced politicians on the make. "He goes his own way—and Hades take anyone in his way!"
"I must leave you, Lucius!" The Legatus pulled his horse sideways a little and gave the cavalryman a parting word. "I need to ride to the vanguard and see if the remnants of my Legion XIX are in anything like reasonable order! Damn Varus!"
The unhappy soldier galloped off in a cloud of earth sods, flung up by his mount's hooves. Lucius mused on what he had said. General Varus was obviously a man of determination and singleness of purpose. Whether his perceived grievances against his officers, like Vala, were weakening his military grasp was something that would have to await future events. Lucius only hoped the present march was going to be uneventful—he needed to get back to his fort and troops as soon as possible.
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The Army Column
General Varus's army, like any other on a long march, was composed of several differing units. Of most importance were his military elements, made up of several Legions—the XVII, XVIII, and XIX Legions, in Varus's case—each one comprising some 5,000 men of varying service. It had to be said that none of these Legions had any previous experience of fighting against, or even occupying, a Germanic region.
Accompanying these were six further Cohorts of Auxiliary troops; each of approximately 500 men. These were not legionaries—who all had to be Roman citizens by law—but soldiers from various other Provinces or countries under Rome's rule. Their greatest numbers were made up of long-serving Iberian and Gaulish warriors, and some African natives and men from Eastern countries; though these were relatively few in number. There were also three ala of 500 cavalry-men each; not counting Commander Caecilius's own ala.
Marching with the main force were all those people necessary to the furtherance of the smoothly-run organisation necessary to a large army. They were classed as camp-followers in a general sense; but were actually made up of servants, slaves, clerks, and kitchen-workers. Women for the kitchens and food preparation; men to look after the several hundred horses and mules, along with their fodder; clerks with all the scrolls containing information needful to the Legions' personnel and Varus's intelligence operations; and a group especially trained in pioneering new trails for a large army on the move through hostile or difficult terrain—who themselves had to have a wide range of specialised equipment, with wagons and mules to haul it.
A great many of the servants were occupied in dealing with the horses, mules, and asses which were an integral part of the motive power behind the movements of such a large force as Varus's army. And then there was the baggage-train itself.
This was, in fact, a miscellaneous group of men and women who looked after the personal equipment, stores, food, and private articles belonging to the legionaries. All these were transported on pack-mules and heavy-wheeled carts pulled by six or eight mules each—at a necessarily measured pace, especially over difficult ground such as they were now just starting to experience. Heavy carts and wagons; muddy difficult terrain; and a generally unknown winding trail; with large numbers of men and women stumbling along on foot, all compounded to make a large column like Varus's army move at a shockingly slow speed.
All this might have been acceptable, but for the fact that Varus had ordered the soldiers of his three Legions and six Cohorts to break military rank and mingle with the ordinary camp-followers. To say that discontent reigned would be underestimating the anger felt throughout the soldiers' ranks. There was a widespread feeling that this unprecedented move on the General's part was simply yet another reflection of his widely-known penchant for strictness and harsh discipline—now aimed directly at the soldiers themselves, for whatever reason. There was a great deal of muttering and swearing among the legionaries as they tramped on through the desolate countryside; not helped in any way by the steadily increasing rain and mud beneath their boots.
The fact they were free, for the moment, from tight military discipline and order allowed them to voice their resentment and anger more easily than normal. They grumbled amongst themselves; and to the variety of camp-followers they found themselves mixing with as they all walked along the rough track amongst the trees. After some initial attempts to keep the noise down most of the officers had given up and now let the men talk as they wished. So, all along the winding column of people a steady volume of sound echoed under the trees; almost rivalling that of spectators at a large Circus entertainment! Even more noise came from the variety of carts and wagons rumbling across the rough terrain, their iron-shod wheels growling on the patches of bedrock or occasional boulders as they were dragged slowly along by ass's and mules. The column was, therefore, anything but silent; the continuous sound of hundreds of voices talking at once, and the rumble of equipment, coupled with the neighing of animals created a barrage of sound that echoed widely amongst the trees. It also had another, unrealised, effect: the column made so much noise that anyone walking or riding amongst the moving mass of people had no chance of hearing anything beyond the column! The trees, bushes, and undergrowth were increasing with every stadia they penetrated further into the forest. And in those trees; even close to the edge of the people and carts, there could have been any number of unseen watchers waiting to attack with no chance of their movements being heard by anyone in the passing column!
Taken overall there was a mounting note of anger and disgust at their treatment felt by almost every soldier in the ranks. The fact that they were now past the edge of the forest proper and were starting to feel the presence of the trees more and more did not help matters. Within a short time they would be marching between serried ranks of tall trees which, though not especially thick, would still cut off all view around them. They would have no idea in which direction they were headed; nor would they have much inkling of the general environment through which they were moving. All of which began to take its toll in an increasing feeling of worry and unhappiness. It was not as yet actual fear; but it was heading slowly in that direction. And the men's thoughts were wholly fixed on the fact they blamed the inconsiderate and bullying General for their present uncomfortable conditions. The soldiers were not at present a happy band; and General Varus was not, at this moment, a revered Commander by any means!
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Marcus Aius
Marcus Aius was beginning to take hope from the fact his men were marching steadily and seemed in relatively cheerful mood, given present circumstances. The young Centurion had managed to keep about one hundred soldiers, from his Cohort I of Legion XIX, together in a single group—which was against General Varus's strict orders, but he felt unable to disperse all his men amongst the camp-followers and so lose military capability altogether.
Again, once more in direct opposition to the exact meaning of General Varus's wishes, he had grouped them near the front of the marching column—somewhere close to the vanguard position, if the cohort had been in military order amongst the other members of its Legion. They presented a very poor picture of Legionary might however, being only one-eighth of the force of a normal double-strength 1st Cohort, but were better than nothing at all; as would be the case if General Varus were simply allowed to have his own way entirely. The Centurion was not a happy man though: there were too many imponderables in this mixed–up situation—not the least being what Varus might do if he discovered his orders being mis-interpreted so high-handedly.
It was with some trepidation then that he listened to the fast hoof-beats of an approaching horse coming up on his left flank. The only riders who rode at that pace were scouts, messengers, or officers of General Varus out on his business. Marcus's heart was pounding faster than normal then when the rider galloped up to rein in by his side. A quick glance told him he had nothing to fear, however, when he recognised the square features and close-cropped grey hair of Legatus Vala.
"Legatus! How goes it? Is General Varus with the centre of the column?" Marcus referred to the traditional position of the leader of an army on a march such as this. "I take it he has his personal guard around him?"
"Yes, as always!" Vala nodded as he wiped the rain from his face and adjusted his close-fitting helmet, which gave some protection from the elements. "About forty auxiliaries. Those Iberian soldiers he brought with him when he took up his Governorship just under three years ago."
"I know them—they revere him!" Marcus grunted unhappily. "They like his disciplinary nature—and the double salaries he pays them! I suppose that's one way to keep the trust of your employees!"
Legatus Vala had known the Centurion Aius for many months, and had come to respect him as a true military man. They had struck up something of a friendship and knew that what they discussed would not be spread around the camp like gossip. So they were freer with each other in conversation than, perhaps, was the norm.
"I wish he attended to the respect and trust of the ordinary legionaries as seriously!" Vala looked over at the younger man as they rode; the high back of the wagon in front of them offering some protection from the driving rain. He lowered his voice as he continued speaking. "Commander Caecilius, from the fort at Alisi, has managed to keep his entire ala around him! A man of parts, apparently! He has them stationed near the rear of the column, and seems to have an intelligent view of army tactics!"
"Well, this is the best I could salvage from Cohort I, Legatus!" Marcus turned in his saddle to indicate the group of soldiers marching behind them. "Only a small part of my full manpower; but I can't chance the General's wrath if I hold a larger group together! Have you heard anything of possible rebels in this area, Legatus! I ask because a scout I talked to a week ago, seemed to think there was some kind of build-up of natives in the region. More than normal for the time of year, that is!"
"No. But then every farmer, charcoal-burner, or village of peasants could be classified as rebels in this Province; as you know!" Vala gave a short laugh. "No-one—no-one at all—likes the presence of Rome in this Region! If we all fell into a vast hole in the ground and were never seen again they would only hold a festival in honour of whatever crude Gods they follow hereabouts!"
"Almost like being back in that God's-forsaken Britannia, Legatus!" Marcus snorted in his turn, old memories coming to the surface. "Just as much rain, mud, and danger as here!"
"You were stationed there, Aius? You have my sympathy!" The Legatus smiled himself, at his own recollections. "I spent two years in Londinium some years ago, for my sins. Gods! Even the women would take up swords and attack you like Amazons, given the least excuse! You never knew who would seize the opportunity to hack your head off next—man or woman! And you're right about the damned mud there. God, what a country! And this Province isn't much better—perhaps worse!"
"Talking of Amazons, Legatus, that scout I spoke with told me he saw a group of women whom he thought were Amazons; somewhere over to the East in the heart of the forest." Marcus stroked his chin as he brought the facts back to his mind. "Said they looked to be in military formation and rode like soldiers. He was nearly half a parasang away from them at the time, and only saw them in the far distance for a short time, through the intervening copses, as they rode across his line of sight; then they were gone, he told me!"
"Did he try to follow them? Make sure of his sighting?" Vala looked up with interest. This was an eventuality that might be significant, in their present situation. "Which direction were they headed in?"
"He didn't tell me any more, Legatus." Marcus shook his head. "I think he was too scared to try his luck that way. You know the reputation these Amazons have! Anyway, he had his orders about what he was meant to be doing—so he went on with his own business! He said they were recognisably women Amazons by the type of deerskin clothes they all wore. Their leader seemed to have blonde hair. He didn't think they were Germanic, though; but he admitted he might be wrong!"
"This could be worth bringing to the General's attention!" Vala considered for a moment then glanced across at the Centurion. "I don't think it will make General Varus change his plans; he may well laugh in your face, in fact, but you can at least salve both our consciences by letting him know! What he does with the information is entirely up to him! Will you go back and tell him? I'll stay with your soldiers meanwhile!"
"Aye, sire!" Marcus accepted the order willingly enough. He was himself interested in seeing the General's reaction to news there might be Amazon forces trailing his column. He swung his mount round to face back down the now rain-soaked line of people marching gloomily along, wiping his own face as he flicked his reins. "I'll report to you on my return. Damn this rain!"
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In Chapter 5 the fighting finally begins in earnest, when various sections of General Varus's army meet their opponents for the first time in head-on clashes; while Varus slowly realises that Arminius has betrayed him!
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