Caput XXXIX
***CDXLIV***
The rider could feel the sides of the horse heaving as their thighs clenched upon its flanks. They felt their body sway in motion to the tempo of pounding hooves. The prey moved quickly, guiding their mount between the thick trees. But this prey did not move as agilely as the wolves the rider spent his youth driving away from flocks and herds. The lead pursuer rotated the spear in his hand. The weapon was not designed for range, but despite the pursuer's heels and reins, it appeared the prey's horse was superior.
Their eyes closed and their body relaxed, becoming one with the motion of the galloping horse. Their hand rose level to their right ear. Bringer of luck, Hermes, bring me fortune. The words echoed in their mind as their arm cocked back. Blue-gray eyes snapped open and immediately locked upon the target. The entire body, aching from days of fighting and nailing people to crosses, contorted as the spear now hurled through the air.
Patrocles watched as the spear arced into the branch filled sky. A sharp movement to the right disrupted his vision, but on the other side of the tree he heard a scream. It was not human, but of a wounded horse. His own mount moved left, and his eyes fell upon the prey. A chestnut mare lay across on its flank, his cavalry spear protruding from her right side. Thrown from the mount, curled into a ball was a blond woman. Even as the eight horsemen reined in their mounts and began to dismount, she shot to her feet. One hand held a sword, the other curled protectively around an infant. She shouted at them in her barbarian language, but none of them understood it. The eight spread into an arc, some keeping grips on their spears, others drawing their swords. The woman clearly favored her right leg, but Patrocles doubted even healthy she would resist long. Because, as he had witnessed in his youth in the defense of Taygetos and as he had executed now, the enemy only gets treated worse the more they resisted. He was not sure what his companions would do to her, but he knew the child would get bashed against a tree until it was dead; therefore, he resigned himself to ending its life quickly with his blade.
Beside him, one of his fellow Greeks ripped the spear from the wounded horse, before thrusting it through the beast's throat, ending its pain. The blond stumbled forward and swung wildly, unable to properly use the weapon Patrocles could see she knew how to use. The wounded leg and the attempt to keep the child away from their weapons prevented her from doing so. The soldier to his far right, a brutish man from Thessaly, swung his spear as if it were a whip and the wooden butt of the weapon crushed the woman's already damaged left knee.
As the leg gave way, the men reacted as Patrocles had seen wolves do in his youth. Now smelling blood, they pounced. The thuds of fists and feet against a human body gave way to cries of pain and then screams of panic as Patrocles snaked his hand into melee and, far too easily, wrenched the child from its mother's arms. He looked down on the infant. Maybe one, it would not see two. He lifted the child by the cloth wrapped around it and raised his sword.
"Nooooooooooo!" the word ripped from the woman's mouth, the first not of Germanic origin, for she screamed in Latin. The beating ceased and as the group took a collective half-step back, Patrocles could see their intention by the clothing barely hanging together. They looked to Patrocles, as he spoke the best Latin of them all.
"Do you speak the language of the Romans?" the woman did not immediately respond, and the brutish Thessalian drove his fist into her side, Patrocles could hear her ribs crack. He repeated the question, again she said nothing. The Thessalian prepared to repeat his action. "Wait," Patrocles said and raising his sword's tip to the babe's throat, repeated the question a third time.
"Yes," she said quietly, though he watched her shoulders slump at the admission.
"How?" She hesitated and his sword broke the skin of her child. Above the wails of the young boy, she now shouted an answer.
"My husband!
"Who is?"
"Arminius." He looked to the others, despite their ignorance of Latin, they knew the name.
"We will take them to the praefectus, he keeps a few Germans around who can confirm this." Perhaps I was wrong earlier, maybe it is easier than I know to become the bastard.
***CDXLV***
Their meeting place lay beneath the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. Children and grandchildren of Vulcan, Apollo, Pluto, and Mercury performed the excavation. The influences of Mars and Venus shown clearly in its final setting. Officially, Legio XII Fulminata resided with Legio III Gallica at Raphana. However, the center of all their higher callings, was this hidden shrine beneath Jupiter's temple in Antioch. They doubted the legion would ever equal their fellow legions in size, but their reputation in competence could not be surpassed.
Unlike most legions, they rarely saw their legate, instead utilizing the more civilian title of Praetor for their leadership. Jason the Elder could not be always with his personal legion, after all. Therefore, unlike the other legions, the Twelfth allowed marriages and families, for how else would they ever maintain their numbers, and their camp resembled a city more than a legionary base. It appeared the gods blessed their endeavor, as the She-wolf of Rome, Lupa herself, had been witnessed to lead new demigods to them. Now, in the hidden cave under the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, Praetor Augusti qui deorum filios ducit Quintus Flavius Barbatus looked across the chamber at Lucius Cornelius Jason, Jason the Younger. Barbatus never answered to his full title "Augustus' Praetor who leads the Children of the Gods," instead most merely called him Praetor or Barbatus. Equally it seemed Jason the Younger eschewed his title for the simple Jason.
"Are you certain it was Piso?" as he spoke, Barbatus' wife closed upon his left side. She was a granddaughter of multiple gods and he never conducted business without her. If he could, he would have made her a second praetor.
Unlike the man across from him, Jason did not grow a beard. "Yes. My father claimed as much and, with the help of a few of your legionaries. We confirmed it."
"The children of Mercury you requested?"
"Their father is the god of thieves. They are quite good."
"What was learned?" Barbatus and Jason both knew that the latter could have merely ordered an action. Barbatus respected the other man's decision to avoid that unpleasantness and conduct this discussion. As Praetor his role expanded beyond battlefield commander and included the civic aspects of the special situation the Twelfth occupied.
"Piso is meeting with Senators and their families tonight. Some have come from as far as Rome. Most are traditionalists, missing their places of honor within the Republic. At least three command legions."
"What do you propose, legatus?" Reyna the Younger asked, looking over a map of the city.
***CDXLVI***
They stole through the night. Children, grandchildren, greatgrandchildren of the gods, moving through the night as wraiths. The personally procured guards of Piso and his compatriots died before they were seen. The civilians that witnessed their movements claimed to have never seen anything. The temple, the forum, construction sites for colonnades and circuses, theaters and aqueducts even, all seemed to disgorge the fighters of the First Cohort of the Twelfth Legion. Before any knew a threat existed, nearly a thousand soldiers already moved through the streets of Antioch. The First Century, with Jason, Barbatus, and Reyna the Younger, moved toward the great villa of Piso. The others continued to kill guards until they began to open gates for the remainder of their legion. The majority of the victims belonged to the Urban Cohort raised by Piso; the others appeared to be common mercenaries. Those opposing the First Century were different.
They encountered legionaires bearing the scuta of Legio III Gallica. Considering that the legion's commander currently supported Piso, this was not surprising, however disappointing. Their centurion, his armor and skin showing the scars of his years of service, stepped toward the approaching soldiers. Behind him the rest of the century began to fall into ranks. Not again, the centurion thought, remembering the civil wars of his youth. But his father had died for the republic against the Caesars.
"I am Primus Pilus Sempronius Densus of the Third Legion, under command of Legatus Legionis Aulus Bucius Lappius. What is this armed force that approaches?" The triple lightning bolts painted upon the shields of the Twelfth's legionnaires were clear and Jason the Younger did not respond until after his eyes finished rolling.
"I am Legatus Augusti pro praetore Lucius Cornelius Jason, commanding Legio XII Fulminata. Enemies of Rome are within this house, step aside, centurion."
"I am afraid, legatus, that is the opinion of my commander and his friend, Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso, that Rome's greatest enemy carries the name Caesar." His head turned back to his men, now formed into ranks. "Contendite vestra sponte," the members of his century rushed forward with a shout, their swords drawn.
Jason the Younger swung his shield up, swiftly finding those of Reyna the Younger and Barbatus linked with it. "Ciringite frontem!" he shouted and soon the members of his own century locked their shields together and prepared to hold their position. Romans against Romans, Sempronius Densus thought, I hope we save it from spreading here.
That would be the case, but not for the reasons that Densus believed. Under normal circumstances, two first centuries of the first cohort would seem as evenly matched as two stones bashed against one another. Two units of more than one hundred and fifty men, thrust as weapons toward each other, both experienced and skilled. But Densus and his century did not face merely one hundred and sixty men. The purely mortal now smashed into the descendants of Jupiter and Mars, Poseidon and Bellona, even Nerio and Apollo. Led by their praetor and the young Jason and Reyna, the filii deorum fell upon their enemies.
The blood of Romans ran heavily over the slopes of the Silpium hill. Twenty-seven legionnaires of the Twelfth would make their way to Pluto, nearly twenty more were wounded beyond a recovery to fighting shape. More than eighty men of the Third lay in the dirt, including the nearly decapitated Sempronius Densus. Those that surrendered could feel the anger permeating from the surviving men and, to the men of the Third, shockingly women of the Twelfth. Barbatus could feel it too, none more so than Jason and his wife, which did not bode well for whoever waited within the house. Already, a group of legionaries were beating down the door of the villa.
***CDXLVII***
"History says I should beware Greeks with a gift. But this…" his voice trailed off and Percy stared hard at the German woman before turning his attention to the baby in his arms. "Do you believe, boy?" Patrocles squirmed slightly under Caesar's gaze.
"She told us that Arminius was her husband while I held a sword to the boy's throat."
"Well, that would make Thusnelda, would it not?" No one else in the room understood the language which Percy spoke, learned from Batavian cavalrymen years before. The German woman, however, physically recoiled at his words. He returned to Latin, "I think her name is Thusnelda. Which makes this little one, Thumelicus. Fortunately, her father is a fucking traitor to their kind." He turned to a nearby officer. "Bring me Segestes."
***CDXLVIII***
The doors came down with a resounding crash. Barbatus waited outside the villa, Jason and Reyna led thirty soldiers into the structure. Two armed guards rushed at them. Reyna dodged a strike before slicing the man's stomach open and leaving him to bleed out. Jason removed his opponent's hand, before thrusting his blade into the man's neck. One of the soldiers following them finished off Reyna's opponent. Gnaeus Calpunius Piso waited with most of his guests in an inner courtyard.
"What is the meaning of this outrage? I am appointed by Caesar as governor of Syria."
"To serve under Lucius Cornelius Jason, whom you murdered in order to further your plot against Caesar."
"I plot against Ceasar? What libel is this?" Jason the Younger pulled a scroll from his belt.
"To all who support the overthrow of the tyrant Greek who now lords over us. The first step in our removal of his tyranny is complete, Jason the Elder is dead." Jason the Younger finished reading and now looked back to the assembled crowd. "I see standing Senators of Rome, legates, officials of all ranks, the Governor of Syria." They all stood proud against his words. He took two steps forward, blood still dripped from his blade. "And in the name of Caesar, I find you all guilty." He swung his sword savagely and the head of Gnaeus Calphurnius Piso struck the ground several seconds before the rest of his now headless corpse.
Before the body struck the floor, the men and women of the First Century, First Cohort, Legio XII Fulminata took his example as an order. Gladii flashed and everyone, man or woman, not bearing the crest of the Twelfth became an enemy.
***CDXLIX***
"I warned you to never show your face here!" Arminius shouted, pulling an ax from one of his guards as he charged toward Segestes. His army currently occupied a series of hills overlooking the Weser River. Between them and the ford Roman fortifications, manned by the men of the Twenty-first Legion, stood. Along their path to this place, the detritus Perseus' scorched earth cavalry attacks left them all with visions of humans upon crosses and great waves of destruction.
Segestes shrank back from his approach. "They have Thusnelda." The weak man would not even look up from the ground to look Arminius in the face. "Caesar has her and he is coming." The clouds of dust approaching from the north, west, south had resulted in scouts sent out in the previous. The reports of survivors confirmed that the remaining six legions and their supporting auxiliaries now closed on them. Arminius possessed the men to defeat a single legion, but he did not have the time to besiege a fort, nor the engines to break one. He found himself in the position that he knew dozens had before, trapped by an army being led by a man that never lost.
He turned to his subordinates, "Tell them to build defenses and rafts. He have to hold as we ferry men across."
***CDL***
"Sir, they have built fortifications along those hills." Caesar followed the hand of Germanicus.
"How many?"
"We suspect more than twenty-five thousand, but we are not certain."
"What else is he doing? He knows Rome too well, thrown together fortifications will not do. The legions are building their camps. I need cavalry and auxiliaries on the opposite bank immediately. They will notice if a legion departs." Caesar turned to Germanicus. "You will lead the auxiliaries. I need brains. If they know your force is there the plan will change."
"Caesar, with respect…"
"I know it is a command beneath you, but it is what is required. Now execute it."
***CDLI***
Percy stared at the German woman, the wife of the man that killed his son. She watched as he ate, always refusing any offer in her direction. She ate the minimum, as little as possible needed to nurse the boy currently suckling. She had been his prisoner for just over three months. His attendants aided him in pulling on the armor he had worn since Greece. All auspices of the blue color once prevalent in his trappings had been replaced with purple. She looked up at him.
"We will not bow just because you are Caesar." He looked down on her. The Sword of Vercingetorix hung from his left side. Hector's Sword waited on his mount. He pulled his helmet, with its blackened steel and purple crest over his head, his voice acquired a metallic ring from behind the cheek flaps.
"No one bows when they're dead."
***CDLII***
The field below Arminius displayed Rome. Six legions formed their ranks and rows. Cavalry roamed amongst the squares of cohorts and centuries, while archers and other lighter troops began to roam forward. Engineers constructed siege engines and Arminius could see them tracking upward toward the mediocre protections his men had erected.
More than thirty thousand legionnaires filled the formation below him. He saw at least ten thousand auxiliaries. He knew another legion waited in the fort blocking the ford. Twenty thousand men warriors stood at the defense. The final third of his force would be manning their rafts now, the first wave of an escape. Beside him, two golden eagles stood stuck in the ground. They would represent his final stand. Three layers of defense existed. Once the first wave crossed over the river, they would establish a position on the far bank. The defense would fall back and a second wave of ten thousand would cross. Of the ten thousand that remained, only five thousand would escape. The other five thousand would make a charge to delay the Romans as much as possible. It would be a sacrifice of a sixth of his force. But the Romans themselves had taught him the lesson of acceptable losses. He watched as the first volley of siege weapons launched their projectiles.
"Tell the rafts to launch the first crossing of the river."
***CDLIII***
"Sir, a scout!" Germanicus looked up to the tall Greek cavalryman entering his tent.
"What is your name?"
"Patrocles, sir."
"Give me your report then, Patrocles."
"Barbarians along the riverbank, some ten thousand. It appears they are boarding rafts to cross the river."
"They have far more than ten thousand men, that must be a single wave." Germanicus turned to his subordinate commanders. "Of course, Perseus was fucking right. Let's get as many as we can across the river before we cut them down. No, mercy is the order of the day."
***CDLIV***
There was a morbid beauty in what was occurring below him. He watched as five legions marched toward an enemy behind a temporary barricade. Percy held the Praetorians back. Already archers traded volleys and soon his siege engines would stop their barrage as the legions began to close the distance. He estimated ten minutes remained before the melee began.
Hundreds of his men, perhaps thousands of his men would die this day. But the German frontier would be secure all the way to the Weser. The garrisons would be reinforced and pushed eastward, meanwhile Percy would march back to Rome with the Praetorians and the Twenty-first and prepare for what he assumed would be another civil war with Piso in the east. Little news reached him here, but it suited him, his focus was the Germans, both for the good of Rome, and his personal revenge.
His prediction proved correct, and he watched as the first of his cohorts, mostly the younger and more inexperienced soldiers clashing with Germanic warriors along the line. In several places, Germanic discipline waned, and they rushed in violent counter attacks that suffered more violent ends. A few small cavalry sallies were met with the legion's Roman cavalry. He turned to his Batavians.
"We will push forward," to the Praetorian legate, a son of Mars he refused to give up to the Twelfth in Syria, "Be ready to move at moment's notice." With that, two hundred horses surged forward. While riding it shouted orders to an aide. "I see a second defensive line, tell the legates to rotate in their second rank cohorts once the first is breached! We have more men! Keep them fresh!"
***CDLV***
"Now! Give them hell!" The order was followed by a series of trumpet blasts. Germanicus at the head of a four thousand strong cavalry formation accelerated to a gallop. The Germans had landed over seven thousand men, they had not pressed into the forest deeply enough to locate the four thousand horse and eight thousand infantry waiting in the trees. Patrocles galloped near Germanicus and lowered his lance as the great wedge of horseflesh and humanity collided with shocked Germanic tribesmen. They would begin to run soon, when they did, they would meet the ten auxiliary cohorts waiting in the woods forming a narrowing formation with the river. Five cohorts formed the base, three across with two reserves prepared to join the line. Five more cohorts would form the flank which would collapse upon the Germans and make reality Germanicus' order of no mercy.
Three men fell to Patrocles' lance before it shattered. Sword already coated in blood, he found himself swinging wildly beside Germanicus. He watched the commander for a moment and saw nothing but rage as he killed. Patrocles felt no enmity toward his enemy, except the desire to live, which fueled his need to kill. Such emotions did not seem to exist elsewhere and far too many men smiled as they butchered each other. Patrocles heard whistles, drums, and shouting and knew that the fleeing Germans now found themselves hedged in by the auxiliary infantry. Poor fucking bastards, he thought even as the cavalry formed for a second charge.
***CDLVI***
"Arminius! Roman cavalry and infantry on the opposite shore! They ambushed our fighters." Arminius felt the blood drain from his face, now thankful for the face paint he wore.
"How many?"
"Over seven thousand, I would say seven thousand three hundred."
"Is there any chance of getting around them?"
"No, these rafts are not strong enough for the current to go north or the rapids to the south. We are stuck here." Arminius shook his head before slamming his fist into a tree.
"Fucking Perseus!" His first line of defenses would fall soon, it had nothing to do with his men's fighting abilities, but the Roman siege engines and legionnaires forced them to be too spread out. "Pull everyone back to the second position." The second position's defenses were less prepared, but there was no choice.
"The line is too short there, not all of the warriors can be utilized."
"And the opposite is true on the front line. What men can be spared from the defense we will use to counterattack and try to break their line there." Arminius pointed to the joining of the Legio XVI Gallica and Legio XXVI Alaudae, they were veteran legions, but they had been fighting in Germania for many years.
***CDLVII***
"Germanicus reports he has slaughtered an enemy force attempting to escape across the river. They were attempting to use rafts. He has killed them all and no other force is attempting to cross. He says the survivors marched back up the hill." Percy turned his eyes to low hills with their pathetic defensive lines. Already the Germans gave up the first line, falling back to the one three hundred yards uphill. Consolidating the line frees more men for a counterattack.
"Tell the five forward legions to continue to press. Tell the Praetorians to prepare for rapid deployment in counter to an enemy sally."
The horse beneath Percy yearned to be set loose and gallop. Percy continued to pat its neck to keep it calm. The action also helped keep his own impatience in check. The second rank of the infantry now reached the light palisade and ditch built by the Germans. A flash of fire caught his eye, its origin most like a pot of pitch thrown by the Germans. But behind the now rising smoke, he saw men gathering. They were uphill between his two right most legions.
"There!" he shouted and pointed. "Tell the Praetorians to use the hill to mask their movement and shift toward the seem in the Sixteenth and the Twenty-sixth."
Percy could see animated speeches occurring before the enemy force, even as his left flank began to carve through their right flank. Behind the footfalls of thousands became a low rumble. Now it appeared the enemy were beating weapons against their shields and chests. A white horse walked before the warband, by their reaction, he assumed it to be Arminius. He called to his Batavians, and they began to shift to their right.
The pre-charge actions of the Germans took nearly fifteen minutes. In that time, it became clear to Percy that the German's left flank collapse had been planned. As the enemy's line broke, his own had begun to shift left, isolating the still heavily engaged right-most legions, Smart Bastard. The attacking Germanic force began to move downhill.
"Now, boys," Percy barked, and the Batavians took off at a gallop toward the seam the Germanic charge hoped to exploit. They came to a halt directly behind as the several thousand warriors struck it. The first ranks of the legions shuddered and slowly began to angle back along their inner edge. The Germans pierced that rank, and the more cohorts were forced forward in an attempt to stop the breakout. Percy estimated nearly ten thousand Germans now fought forward. He watched his men die as the narrow frontage of Germans now struck the third and final line of men, these having been the bastards to take the first defensive line. He said a prayer for the men he was condemning to die and then nodded to his trumpeter.
***CDLVIII***
Arminius allowed himself a glimmer of hope. The attack had punctured two lines of the Roman formation. If they could punch through the final line, only Perseus and two hundred cavalry awaited them. thAll hope ceased with the ringing of a trumpet. Within seconds of its note piercing the day, he could see the banners and plumes of Praetorian purple appear over the crest of the hill behind Perseus. As their advance reached the Batavian cavalry, Perseus joined their advance. Arminius watched the first of his men, just fifteen feet ahead of him breach the third rank of the Roman army.
But the escape only existed for seconds, before the galloping horses of the Batavians hurled back the leaders of his attack and soon Arminius found himself hurled to the ground as his horse panicked. He shook his head as he rose and turned toward the now closed escape. Standing in black and purple, Perseus waited.
***CDLIX***
"Traitor," Percy said simply.
"They are my people, Perseus."
"No, I was your people. I was who taught you how to keep yourself while living with them. I taught you to fight and win. I taught you beside my son." Percy drew the Sword of Vercingetorix. "A traitor gave me this, it is suitable I shall run you through with it."
Arminius rushed forward; his sword swung powerfully toward the older soldier. Percy appeared to bat it aside with ease and punched him in the mouth. The Germanic warrior stumbled back and before he could react Percy's foot planted in his chest, and he was hurled to the ground. He lay there for a moment to catch his breath. Around them, Batavians killed all who attempted to interfere in their emperor's personal battle, even as the Praetorians rallied the line and began to advance with brutal efficiency.
"Get up. I taught you better than to lie on the ground." Percy stood back while the other man stood. Blood ran from the younger man's nose. He wiped it away with one hand before attacking again. Percy parried the first three strikes before dropping to a knee as the blade passed overhead. With a short motion he sliced deeply into the thigh of the German. Blood ran along the blade before streaming down Arminius' leg. Arminius stumbled as Perseus slowly stood. Contempt was clear on his face.
Arminius again rushed toward him. The German sword sparked against the Sword of Vercingetorix. With a wild, but forceful, strike he finally forced Perch to take a step back. With the distance between them Arminius arm shot out and Percy grunted. Arminius rushed forward; his sword outstretched in a strike that would have killed most men. Perseus was not most men.
Shock registered on Arminius' face as a simple twist of the hips caused his strike to miss and Percy's hand clamped on his wrist. Cold vengeance played across Percy's face as he began to torque the wrist. A pained howl emitted from Arminius' bloody face as the wrist gave way and a resounding cracked filled the air.
Percy looked down at the small knife protruding from his left abdomen. "Fucking treachery. I should not be surprised." Unbidden tears had sprung to Arminius' face. He had sunk to his knees in pain.
"Treat them well." He spoke the words in Latin.
"You beg for mercy in my tongue? It shall be of no use; I've sent them onto Rome." Percy's lie had the desired effect.
"No, no, only you have honor enough to treat them well."
"You of all people speak of honor, he who betrayed us." Arminius could not help but notice the wording, though his addled mind could not decipher if Perseus referred to Rome or his family. "Your son and wife have reaped what you sowed. You son will train in a Capua ludus, while your wife has become the most popular whore in Rome. I've heard she can suck a cock like none other. I will keep her alive long enough to watch him die."
Rage played across Arminius' face, and he rushed forward, the sword in his undamaged hand. Again, Percy's lies had served their purpose. With his left arm, Percy batted the sword away before plunging his deeply into Arminius' abdomen. He used it to hold the German upright as his legs gave way and the blade grated against Arminius ribs.
"He was my son," Percy hissed.
"Are they safe?"
"You'll never know," Percy responded before carving the blade through Arminius' abdomen from ribs to pelvis. Reaching out, he gripped the dead man's hair and held his head in place. With a savage strike he cut it off.
***CDLX***
Two scared faces looked at him from their place upon the floor of his tent, their backs to the iron as chains held her on her knees in the tent. Fear became rage on the woman's face as they looked at the item hanging from his fist. She shouted something in such panic-stricken Germanic barbarianism that even with years of working with the Batavi, Percy's trained ear could not decipher it. The boy was too young to recognize what he stared at, the severed head of his father. Instead, he just clung tighter to his mother. He spoke in the manner taught to him by Sedullas and Ambiotorix decades earlier.
"Thus becomes the justice traitors deserve." As he spoke, his arm swung forward and tossed the head to the woman. Blood still oozed from the neck wound and began to cover the already stained slave smock.
"You are a monster." He turned to the tall and strongly built blonde woman, her gray eyes attempting to match the fire within his green ones. Personally, Caesar did not know if monster covered it. He had not called off his army even after the battle appeared over. They had seen their opportunity for revenge for their lost legion mates under Varus. Those hills overlooking the Weser would be a warning to all Germania.
"No. I am Rome."