There was a knock. One of the sentries entered and announced the centurions’ arrival.
‘Send them in,’ ordered Varus.
Without being told, Aristides cleared away the letters and returned to his position at the back of the room, where he had a small desk of his own.
Varus stood as the two crossed the threshold, showing them his regard. He had always had time for centurions, the backbone of the army throughout the empire. They were the salt of the earth, he thought, in particular this pair. ‘Tullus. Bolanus. Welcome.’
They both saluted. ‘Governor.’
‘At ease, at ease. We’re not on the parade ground.’ Varus picked up a graceful blue glass jug from the table by his desk. ‘Wine?’
The two glanced at one another.
‘I’m having some,’ said Varus, to put them at ease.
‘My thanks, sir. I will if you will,’ said Tullus.
‘I don’t want to be the odd one out, sir,’ added Bolanus. ‘Thank you.’
‘Excellent.’ Varus poured a healthy measure into three glasses and handed them out. He raised his high. ‘To the emperor. May his reign continue for many years.’
‘To the emperor,’ Tullus and Bolanus repeated, and they all drank.
‘To a fruitful mission,’ said Varus, toasting them. ‘Well done.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ they replied. ‘We weren’t in charge of course,’ said Tullus.
‘I know, Tubero was. But a senior tribune needs experienced officers around him, in particular with his first taste of combat. Your success leads me to assume that he performed well. Would I be correct?’ Tullus and Bolanus exchanged another look, one that told Varus they had talked beforehand about what they would say. Although it didn’t surprise him, he felt a flicker of irritation. ‘Come now, we are friends here. You can speak your minds, with no fear of retribution.’
‘Tubero commanded well, sir,’ said Bolanus. ‘I have no major complaints.’
‘And minor ones?’ Bolanus grew a little awkward. ‘Tell me!’ Varus ordered.
‘During the fighting, some of the Usipetes managed to barricade themselves inside the village compound, sir. Tubero’s response was hasty. Instead of assaulting the compound in a number of places, and overwhelming the defenders, he ordered a direct attack on the front gate. It didn’t succeed, and eight legionaries died.’ Another word – ‘unnecessarily’ – hung in the air.
It could have been worse, thought Varus. ‘And at that point, Tubero ordered you, Tullus, to scale the far side of the palisade?’
‘That was my suggestion, sir,’ replied Tullus.
‘Not the tribune’s?’
‘No, sir.’
Varus registered Bolanus’ nod of agreement. He felt annoyed that Tubero had neglected to mention this detail, but wasn’t altogether surprised. At the same stage in his career, he might not have either. ‘I see. And it was during your attack that many of the casualties were lost?’ Again Tullus and Bolanus glanced at one another, and Varus began to wonder if the mission had not been as straightforward as Tubero had made out. ‘Well?’
‘That’s correct, sir,’ said Tullus.
‘What happened?’
‘I had only twenty men and an optio with me, sir. There were upwards of sixty warriors within the compound.’
‘But the legionaries outside must have been attacking the palisade at the same time, splitting the defences?’
‘They didn’t do so immediately, sir,’ said Tullus.
‘Was there some kind of miscommunication?’ demanded Varus.
‘I suppose so, sir.’
‘You had no trumpeter with you?’
‘No, sir.’
That was an oversight on Tubero’s part, thought Varus. ‘Bolanus, you were outside the compound. What was going on?’
‘I think the tribune didn’t quite realise the importance of diverting the defenders’ attention from Tullus and his force, sir. It was fortunate that Arminius was on hand to advise Tubero. He sent our men to the attack after that. Tullus opened the gate, and the remaining warriors were soon overwhelmed.’
Tubero must have been distracted, Varus decided, or, as Bolanus had said, he had misjudged the ‘perfect’ moment to order the attack. It was fortunate indeed that he’d sent Arminius on the patrol. ‘I am glad that you survived, Tullus. Your death would have been a sore loss to your legion, and to the empire.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Tullus, raising his glass.
Varus was about to move the conversation on to the preparations for the summer campaign when Tullus let out a meaningful cough. ‘What is it?’ asked Varus.
‘I was unhappy with how few prisoners were taken, sir. The warriors inside the stockade were our best hope, but Arminius’ men reaped them as if they were ripe stalks of wheat.’
It was curious that Tubero had also mentioned this, thought Varus. ‘They lost the run of themselves,’ he said, deciding again that the simplest answer was the correct one.
Another cough. ‘I wondered if Arminius had ordered his men to act as they did, sir.’
‘Why would he do such a thing?’ demanded Varus, frowning.
‘I don’t know, sir,’ Tullus admitted, looking awkward. ‘But I thought that perhaps they went about killing the Usipetes with more zeal than was necessary.’
‘“Perhaps?” So you’re not sure? You have no evidence to back up your theory?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Unless you have some kind of proof for me, centurion,’ said Varus in a reproving tone, ‘I suggest you stitch your lip.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Now, back to the preparations for the march east,’ declared Varus. The centurions warmed to the topic, which pleased him. He wasn’t the only one looking forward to getting out of the damn camp. When they had drunk a second glass of wine, he thanked both again and dismissed them.
‘They were being opaque about what happened with Tubero, Aristides, or I’m no judge,’ Varus said when the sound of their sandals had died away.
‘I agree, master.’
So I wasn’t imagining it, thought Varus. ‘They were covering for him.’
‘I wouldn’t know, master,’ said Aristides, ever the diplomat.
It was best to be pragmatic, Varus decided again. The desired result – the destruction of the raiding party, and the taking of prisoners – had been achieved. He had enough on his plate without having to worry about Arminius, or to dig around to discover the mission’s every detail. It seemed definite that Arminius’ men had lost their self-control, and that Tubero had been overeager in his approach to the attack on the compound, forgetting the basics of planned assaults. These were both things that were easy to remedy. He could speak to Arminius the next time they met. ‘Fetch me the manual on siege tactics,’ he ordered. ‘Write a note to Tubero, recommending that he read it. I’ll sign it. Have both sent to his quarters.’
‘Yes, master.’
That was one problem dealt with, thought Varus. His satisfaction lasted as long as it took Aristides to come into his line of vision with an armful of documents. Varus gave them a baleful glare. For every one issue that he resolved, there were always six more to sort out.
Jupiter, let the day that we march out of here come soon, he prayed.
Knock.
Varus, who was still at his desk, eyed the door to his office with something akin to resignation. ‘Enter.’
In came the sentry. ‘Arminius is here to see you, sir.’
‘For once, a visitor I am happy to receive. Send him in.’
‘Governor,’ said Arminius, saluting.
‘It’s good to see you, Arminius.’ Varus came around his desk to shake the Cheruscan’s hand. ‘You’ll have some wine.’
‘I never say no to wine,’ replied Arminius with a broad smile.
‘A man after my own heart. Aristides, do the necessary, will you?’ Varus offered his guest a chair. ‘I must thank you for what you did on the patrol.’