‘Not bad.’ Aemilius wiped his lips. ‘Gratitude.’ His comrades echoed his thanks.
‘A guest shouldn’t come empty-handed,’ said Piso, rummaging for his second best pair of dice. Benignus swept them up from the tent floor at once, his eyes suspicious.
‘Rigged, are they?’ he demanded.
‘No,’ Piso protested, thankful that he’d left his other dice, which were weighted, nestling at the bottom of his purse.
Benignus rolled them, getting a four and a three. He grunted and threw again. This time a five and a one stared up at him, but it wasn’t until he’d made another half-dozen rolls that he handed Piso’s dice back. ‘They’re all right,’ he growled.
‘How about yours?’ challenged Piso. He and Benignus stared at one another in a none-too-amiable way, and the tent’s temperature rose.
‘Fear not. We wouldn’t let the bugger cheat us,’ said Aemilius, making a placatory gesture.
‘Of course,’ said Piso, pulling a smile. ‘But I’m no cheat either.’
‘Don’t take it to heart,’ advised Beaky. ‘We didn’t know you until a few moments ago.’
Piso drew a quick breath. ‘Tricksters don’t bring their own wine – at least not the ones I’ve met,’ he joked, glad that this raised a laugh. The tension that had prickled the air disappeared. ‘What will we play for?’ he asked, rattling the contents of his purse. From memory, there were four denarii, ten sestertii and an assortment of lower denomination coins within. If he was careful, it was enough to while away a couple of hours.
‘We’ll start off easy. Poor Benignus here is sat on the bones of his arse,’ said Aemilius with a wink. Benignus let out an angry rumble, but didn’t protest as it was decided that an as per man was the cost for each game.
Pubes triumphed first, and then it was Beaky’s turn. Piso was victorious in the third and fourth games, but Aemilius took the fifth. Benignus cheered as he won the next three rolls, recovering most of his previous losses. They played on, with no particular individual winning to excess. Aemilius produced a small lump of hard cheese, and Beaky some olives. A convivial atmosphere descended as tales were told, blisters compared and aspersions cast on everyone from their centurions to Caecina and the cavalry, who got to ride home while they footsloggers had to walk. There was no mention of Arminius or the tribesmen for some time, but it was inevitable that the topic should arise in the end.
‘What were you at today?’ asked Aemilius of Piso. ‘Felling trees, same as us?’
‘Aye. A miserable task, but repairing the road can’t be any better. The Germans attacked the men there almost as much.’
‘Your unit suffer many casualties?’ This from Pubes.
‘Some. Two men from my century died. A tent mate got wounded, but not too bad,’ replied Piso. ‘I was on my way back from visiting him when I stopped by your tent. And your cohort?’
‘Sixty-seven dead, and more than twice that number injured,’ revealed Aemilius with an unhappy twitch of his lips. ‘We were the worst hit cohort in the Fifth, they say.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Piso, grateful for his unit’s lighter losses.
Aemilius cast a look at his seven comrades. ‘Our contubernium was blessed today, eh, brothers? We’re all here. Arms and legs, balls and pricks intact.’
‘For how much longer, eh?’ grumbled Benignus. ‘We’re walking into another trap, I know it.’
‘We’re already in it, you big ox,’ observed Pubes, his face sour. ‘Or hadn’t you noticed?’
‘Piss off.’ Benignus rubbed at his phallus amulet. ‘I have a bad feeling about this place. About the whole fucking “Long Bridges” road. It seems like nothing more than a march to the gates of Hades – through the River Styx.’
Everyone answered at the same time. ‘Aye.’ ‘You’re right.’ ‘Why did Caecina ever lead us here?’ ‘It’s as if he let Arminius tell him where to go.’
‘Things aren’t that bad, brothers,’ urged Piso.
‘How aren’t they?’ demanded Beaky in truculent manner. ‘By rights some of us should be lying in that cursed pit by the wall. Half this contubernium will be in it tomorrow night, if Fortuna has anything to do with it. Treacherous old cunt.’
‘Listen, I used to be in the Eighteenth-’ Piso began.
‘Eh?’ interrupted Aemilius. ‘You don’t look half old enough.’
‘I was a wet-behind-the-ears recruit.’
‘Yet you survived?’ Benignus’ expression was disbelieving.
‘The Fates took their eyes off me, I guess,’ said Piso. ‘I also have Tullus for a centurion. You’ve heard of him?’
Every legionary nodded his head in assent, and Aemilius said, ‘Many men regard Tullus as the best centurion in the legion. Even better than the primus pilus.’
‘I’d agree with that. So would everyone in his century,’ Piso replied, his eyes bright with passion.
‘He’s got to be better than ours,’ said Benignus. He stared at Piso, sizing him up, before adding, ‘It’s a pity we didn’t do for the officious prick during the mutiny.’
No one agreed with Benignus’ comment, but Piso thought he caught a couple of the others nodding. ‘That business is finished with, thank the gods,’ said Pubes, his smile a little false. ‘What’s more concerning is where we find ourselves at the moment. What are we to do?’
‘March out of here, along the wooden road,’ said Piso, incredulous that another option was even being contemplated.
‘Why not face the savages on the flat ground?’ Pubes thumped one fist into the other. ‘Crush them is what we’d do!’
‘For a start, there isn’t enough space for the whole army to form up,’ Piso said. ‘Second, Arminius is too wily to lead his men out of the trees. That’s not how he destroyed Varus’ legions.’ His eyes roved over the others’ faces. To his dismay, they didn’t appear to believe him. ‘German warriors can’t beat us in open combat.’
‘That’s my exact point. Stick to the flat ground and we have nothing to fear,’ said Pubes with the smug conviction of someone who won’t hear an opinion opposed to his own. Most of his comrades muttered their agreement, chief among them Benignus and Beaky.
‘I’m not marching down that road,’ Pubes continued. ‘It’ll be the death of us all. If the fucking Germans don’t get us, the bog will.’ Again his companions rumbled in assent.
‘How many of you feel like this?’ asked Piso.
‘Plenty,’ said Aemilius, entering the conversation at last. ‘You and your comrades must think the same thing, surely?’
‘Not in my century. Tullus rescued too many of us from that cursed forest. Even if that road does lead to Hades, we’ll follow him down it. I’d say the rest of the cohort will stay …’ Piso was about to use the word ‘loyal’ but the glint in Aemilius’ eyes stopped him. ‘… with him,’ he finished.
‘I wouldn’t be so certain,’ said Aemilius.
Benignus added, ‘There’s been plenty of talk since we set up camp. Most of the Fifth and Twenty-First have had enough.’
‘Things won’t come to that,’ said Piso with a dismissive gesture. Inside, though, he worried how this level of discontent had passed him by.
It felt far too like the recent mutiny.
Chapter XXX
Arminius was standing among the trees in the spot where they grew closest to the huge Roman camp. With him were Maelo, his uncle Inguiomerus and Big Chin; a score of his best warriors stood guard to either side. The darkness concealed them from the enemy’s position, less than two hundred paces away. It also prevented Arminius from seeing much more than the structure’s forbidding outline. Now and then, he spied a sentry walking along the walkway that spanned the ramparts, but that was it. Thanks to the loud singing coming from his own camp – instigated by him – he could hear nothing from within the Roman walls either.
No matter, Arminius thought. The bastards won’t be getting much sleep. Let them stew in their own fear. In the morning, we’ll renew the fight.
‘Why don’t we attack in a few hours?’ Inguiomerus’ voice came from his left. ‘Men’s spirits are at their lowest ebb in the dark of the night.’