‘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.