Ovid

'Your accent's better than mine, sir.' The young man smiled. His Latin was flawless. 'Perhaps we can arrange lessons?'

There was general laughter.

'Don't show off, Publius,' Fabius grunted. 'The lad's as Roman as you are. More so.'

I could believe it. If it had not been for the colour of his hair he would have passed anywhere for a young Roman nobleman.

We reclined, and slaves brought the first course. I noticed that Arminius ate sparingly, and had the wine waiter add extra water to his cup. Then someone (I think it was Lucius) brought up the subject of Illyria.

It was a natural topic at the time, especially in that company: the whole country was up in revolt, Rome's back was to the wall and the soundness of our entire frontier policy was being seriously questioned. Not to mention the soundness of the ageing emperor's judgement.

'The problem is,' Fabius fixed us with a levelled quail's egg, 'it's a matter of security. Augustus can't just let Illyria drop. She's vital to the empire's safety.'

'No one's disputing that, old boy.' Vinicius, I remember, had the unpleasant nasal twang of a third-rate harpist. 'The trouble is he's gone too far and too fast. He's botched the job and now we're suffering the consequences.'

Vinicius was absolutely correct, of course. As was Fabius. We needed Illyria. We needed the land route to Macedonia and Greece and control of the eastern passes through the Alps. Without Illyria Italy was vulnerable and the empire split in half. And the initial stages of the conquest had been skimped.

Fabius shifted uncomfortably. He was the emperor's man and one of his most trusted advisers. Criticism of Augustus did not sit well with him.

'You may be right,' he conceded. 'Certainly we don't have the men for an armed occupation. But we must have a secure northern border somehow. It's a question of balance, the optimum use of the forces available. The Illyrian revolt has simply shown how difficult establishing that balance is.'

'It would be easier if we pushed north to the Elbe,' Lucius said. 'That would shorten our lines of communication and give us an almost total natural frontier.'

Fabius nodded. 'Oh, I agree, absolutely. And so does Augustus. However, there's one glaringly obvious problem.'

Vinicius grinned. 'The Germans,' he said. 'These bastards — saving your presence, Arminius — would rather not be part of the Roman empire, thank you very much. And who's to blame them?'

'I, for one.' Arminius set down his cup. 'The tribes between the Rhine and the Elbe are an undisciplined rabble.'

'And long may they continue to be so.' That was Vinicius again. 'So long as they're knocking each other’s heads together they leave ours alone.'

'Quite.' I reached for an olive. 'Divide and rule is the obvious policy where the German tribes are concerned.'

'I disagree.' Arminius frowned. 'What have we achieved so far? Certainly not Roman rule. A stalemate, at best. Granted, unless we keep them firmly under control the Germans will always cause trouble; but as Fabius says we haven't the forces for an armed occupation.'

'And your solution to this paradox?' Fabius's smile was tolerant.

'Perhaps it's time to rethink our policies completely, sir. The answer may not be to fragment the tribes but to unite them.'

'You mean like Maroboduus?'

Vinicius's quiet comment brought a shout of laughter. Maroboduus was a German chieftain who, having established a power-base in Bohemia, had extended his influence over neighbouring Saxony and Silesia. The situation was still unresolved.

Arminius was waiting calmly for the laughter to die down. When it did, he said: 'Yes, in a way. I do mean like Maroboduus.'

I noticed that Fabius was looking at him keenly.

'Go on,' he said.

'It's quite simple. In theory at least. At present most of the chiefs can't see past their petty local affairs. They hate Rome because they don't understand her, and they'd rather die than be part of the empire. But if they could be united under one of their own people, a single strong leader, one sympathetic to Rome, then-’

'Just a moment,' Vinicius put in. 'That's a sizeable if, old boy. I know the Germans. A Roman sympathiser, such as yourself, for example' — the words were silkily neutral — 'wouldn't have a hope in hell of gathering the support he needed. And if we tried to impose him from outside he wouldn't last a month.'

Arminius turned to him.

'You're right, sir, of course,' he said. 'I did say I was speaking theoretically. But if it were somehow possible then it would solve Rome's problems at a stroke, wouldn't it?'

'Yes, it would. If your theoretical leader could be trusted.'

The young man's eyes flashed. He half-rose from the couch, and I thought that blood would be spilled, at any rate metaphorically. However at that moment the slaves came in with the main course and amity was restored.

I looked across at Fabius who, as I say, was one of Augustus's closest advisers. He was looking unusually thoughtful, and more than once during the remainder of the evening I saw his eyes resting on the young German with what was certainly speculation. But he did not raise the subject again, at least in my hearing.

I saw Arminius often after that, mostly at Lucius's, since the lad with his passion for things military had adopted my nephew almost as a mentor. He continued to impress me. He had sense, intelligence, good breeding and, above all, a clear devotion to Rome and Roman values. Together with his idealism this made him, as Fabius had said, more Roman than I was, especially where the last two qualities are concerned. When he was finally sent back to his people we lost touch for almost a year; until, in fact, I was given Germany and he came to me at Vetera with other tribal representatives to pay his respects. He was wearing German dress, and his hair was long in the German manner. Although he was perfectly polite, his greeting was perfunctory, and I was, I admit, more than a little offended.

I should have known better. As I was to discover before the day was out, Arminius's patent unfriendliness had a purpose.

I was relaxing in my private quarters after bathing when a tall German strode in. He was muffled to the eyebrows in his cloak, but of course I recognised him: Arminius, without a doubt. Once he had unwrapped himself we shook hands for the second time that day; on his side, warmly.

'Varus, I'm sorry,' he said. 'My behaviour earlier was dreadful.'

'On the contrary, my boy.' I was beginning to thaw out. Despite his appearance this was the Arminius I knew. 'Your German manners were impeccable.'

He laughed and sat down on the desk stool. These might be the quarters of the governor of Germany and the commander of the Armies of the Rhine but they were spartan in the extreme, and would be until my full complement of furniture arrived from Rome.

'What do you think of the fancy dress?' he said. 'And the hairstyle?'

He was smiling; I was not.

'Strangely enough,' I said, 'they suit you.' They did. In Rome he had looked like a Roman. Here he looked more German than the Germans. 'But I wasn't aware that it was the German fashion to wrap one's head in one's cloak. Especially indoors.'

'It was necessary, sir.' He spoke gravely. 'I had rather that no one knew of this conversation. Roman or German.'

'Is it such a crime, then, for old friends to talk in private?'

'Possibly. Given the circumstances.'

I didn't like the smell of this at all. I was cautious, and turned to the tray of wine-things to cover my caution.

'Explain,' I said.

'You remember the plan I talked about? When we first met?'

'Your grand design to turn Germany into a western client-kingdom? Yes, of course I do.'

'Perhaps we should talk about it again. More seriously this time.'

I am by nature a diplomat rather than a soldier. As I poured the wine and handed it to him I kept my expression neutral.