At least the situation wasn’t all bad. Varus’ heavy-handed response would fan the flames of resentment towards Rome among other tribes. Those who might have wavered before would now be eager to throw in their lot when he called on them to do so.
The Usipetes would remain unaware, Arminius told himself. His ambitious alliance would come together. His plan would bear fruit.
A day had passed, and Arminius was riding south on the road that led towards Asciburgium. He had been astride his mount long enough for his arse to start aching. Most of his men were ranging ahead of the patrol, but he was at its front, with two turmae; Tullus and the legionaries were marching behind. Arminius had been counting the stone markers at the side of the paved road since they’d left Vetera, but his bad mood meant he’d forgotten how far they had come. The dull pain in his backside, he decided, meant it had to be about ten miles. The countryside was almost flat, as it was throughout the area. The river flowed along to his left, a constant feature, and there were open fields and occasional farmhouses to his right. From this point on, his scouts would be of vital importance, because no one knew where the Usipetes were.
Once they were found, victory was certain. The Roman force – two cohorts and half of Arminius’ cavalry unit – would have no difficulty in dealing with the tribal war band. Ensuring that the Usipetes remained ignorant of their allies’ participation in the Roman response to their raid was another matter altogether.
Not long after, Tullus rode forward from his position. Arminius had been impressed by Tullus’ soldiers, who seemed well drilled, disciplined and responsive to their officers. This was a solid centurion, who like as not led by example. His men would follow him anywhere. In short, he was someone worth befriending – and also keeping a close eye on. Tullus had not understood Maelo’s muttered comment during the early stages of the boar hunt, but he hadn’t missed the look Arminius and Maelo had shared after the comment about the smell of blood. At some level, Tullus was suspicious of him, thought Arminius, pulling a hearty smile.
‘Seen anything?’ Tullus asked in a friendly enough tone.
‘Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time before my men find them. I suggested to the senior tribune that they scour the countryside ahead of us, in individual turmae, to cover more ground.’ Arminius was pleased to see Tullus nodding in approval. ‘They have orders to withdraw, unseen, at the first sighting of the Usipetes.’
‘Where’s the tribune?’
‘He insisted on going with my men.’ It was clear that Tullus didn’t much care for Tubero. After what had happened on the patrol to Aliso, Arminius wasn’t surprised. He filed the detail away for future use.
They rode on for a time, and then Tullus asked, ‘Did the Usipetes’ chieftains sanction this raid, d’you think?’
‘If they did, they’re damn fools,’ said Arminius with feeling. ‘Such acts will always be answered, in force.’
‘Their entire people will suffer because of this.’
‘They will.’ But if my alliance remains unaffected, I don’t care, thought Arminius harshly.
During the silence that fell after, Arminius caught Tullus rubbing at a puckered scar on the fleshy part of his left calf.
‘That an old injury?’
‘Aye. Nothing’s ever the same once it’s been thrust through by a blade. If I have regular massages, and remember to stretch it every morning, it doesn’t cause me too much trouble. I can’t march like I used to, worse luck. After a few miles, it begins to feel as if someone’s tightening a vice inside the muscle.’
‘Scar tissue,’ pronounced Arminius.
‘That’s what the surgeon said. There’s nothing to be done with it, other than keeping it as supple as possible.’ Tullus threw him a glance. ‘You must have had an injury or two.’
Arminius rapped his ornate helmet. ‘I have a nice scar on the top of my head, courtesy of a warrior with a falx in Illyricum. Lucky for me, his blade was poor quality, and broke as it smashed my helm.’
‘They are fearsome weapons. I’ve seen soldiers’ brains dribbling from their cracked skulls after a strike from one. Your gods must have been smiling on you that day.’
‘Donar was,’ replied Arminius, thumbing his hammer amulet. ‘I was careful afterwards to buy the most expensive helmet that I could afford. Under the braided hair and silverwork, this thing is half a finger of bronze thick.’
‘It must be heavy.’
‘At the end of a long day, my neck and shoulders know about it,’ Arminius admitted. ‘But you get used to it.’
‘There’s no point complaining, because everyone’s in the same shitty boat.’
They both chuckled, and Arminius thought: He’s starting to like me. Good.
Several hours later, Tubero returned at the head of one of Arminius’ turmae. He was in buoyant mood, because they had been first to sight the Usipetes, in a settlement some four miles away. ‘I was quick to pull the men back,’ he said, ‘although I wanted to ride in there and let the savages have it.’
‘It was wise not to do so, tribune,’ said Arminius.
‘We could still attack them today,’ cried Tubero, his face alight.
If we do that, thought Arminius, eyeing the sinking sun, some of them are bound to get away in the poor light. And if they’ve noticed that we Cherusci are involved … ‘Your eagerness is infectious, tribune.’
Tubero grinned. ‘You want to take them too!’
‘I do, of course.’ Arminius hesitated, and then added, ‘I wonder if your plan might work better tomorrow, tribune, at dawn.’
Tubero frowned. ‘How so?’
‘Some of the Usipetes might still have their wits about them today. Give them a night of drinking whatever beer they find, however, and hit them first thing in the morning, and they won’t know what has happened until it’s too late. The whole thing will be done inside an hour.’
Tubero rubbed a finger across his lips, thinking. ‘What about the villagers?’
‘Most of them will already be dead, so the timing of our intervention won’t make that much difference. Leaving the assault until tomorrow will also reduce the possibility of casualties. Imagine how pleased Varus would be not just that you succeeded in your mission, but that you lost only a handful of men.’
Tubero nodded.
‘Another thing struck me, tribune. The Usipetes must have crossed the river by boat. Taking those craft would remove any chance of the raiding party escaping. If you were to send a century or two along the bank, say …’
‘I could order them fired at dawn,’ cried Tubero. ‘When our trumpets sound the attack.’
‘An excellent plan, tribune,’ declared Arminius.
Tubero smiled, as if the entire idea had been his all along.
Arminius had ridden his horse a short distance off the road, into the middle of a field of young barley. As ever, Maelo was by his right side. Around them in a loose semicircle were all of his mounted warriors. The men’s faces were fierce, eager, expectant.
The night-time cool was with them yet, but the sky was cloudless again, auguring the high temperatures of the previous few days. They had ridden from the marching camp with great care, passing the settlement by leading their horses, to reach their position in good time. It wouldn’t be long before the trumpeters with Tubero sounded, however. The sun was peeking over the tops of the hazel and crab-apple trees that dotted the riverbank to their right.
Arminius was about to give his men their final orders. And more.