“Why would you say that?” Artorius asked. “We never actually met then, and before tonight the only time we have spoken was after the Nazarene’s crucifixion.”
“That may be,” Alaric replied, “but that makes our paths no less drawn together. You told me that you joined the army to avenge your brother, who was killed in an ambush that my people, the Marsi, took part in. In turn, when Rome unleashed its legions upon Germania, how many fell by your blade? And how many of those were even warriors, let alone those who might have taken part in Teutoburger Wald? Your hatred and bloodlust consumed you…”
“And how the hell would you know that?” Artorius snapped, the young man’s words clearly striking a nerve. “I’ve spoken with you once in my entire life, and yet you presume much!”
“It is only because it should have consumed me, as well,” Alaric replied. “You lost your brother. I lost almost my entire family. My father died in battle, so at least that was an honorable end. But what of my aunt and my cousin, who was just a newborn babe? I remember little from that time, as young as I was, but I do remember seeing her soon after she was born. She was scarcely a week old and completely blameless of any crime, and yet she was butchered by your legionaries.”
Artorius said nothing as they walked over to one of the ramparts near the river. Torches had been placed every twenty meters with sentries dispersed throughout. His face was sweating, despite the cool evening breeze that blew in off the water. Dark and foreboding memories had assailed him in recent days, and talking with this young man of a race he had tried to exterminate laid them all bare.
“It is a vicious cycle,” Alaric said, collecting his own thoughts. “Hate begets hate and, in the name of retribution, the savage killing never ends. And yet, no one even knows where it all began or who struck the first blow.”
“Why then did you fight alongside us, your mortal enemies, when we faced the pirates on the way to Judea?”
“I was on the ship because I needed the work,” Alaric explained. “I was hired on as a skilled laborer and was never a member of the Roman navy. And when the pirates attacked, what choice did I really have? They would have killed me as readily as any of you, and had I not fought against them, then I would have been executed for cowardice. I had also made friends with the sailing master.” He was caught off guard when Artorius chuckled at this. “You know him?”
“His brother is my best friend,” Artorius said. “Hansi now has command of his own ship.”
“I am happy for him,” the young man replied. “Still, I knew I could not stay aboard a Roman warship any longer, so I took my share of the prize money from the sale of the pirate vessel and journeyed throughout the east, searching.”
“For what?”
“Another way,” Alaric answered. He went on to explain about his first meeting with the teacher from Nazareth, and his message of love and compassion. “When he first told us that we should love not just our neighbor, but also our enemy, it felt as if he was speaking directly to me; almost as if he knew about my past. He said we should love and forgive…”
“And have you?” Artorius asked. “It must be difficult to forgive those who continue to conquer foreign lands, and who are as ruthless as ever in both battle and subjugation of other peoples.”
“Sometimes it is not possible to forgive,” Alaric surmised. “But if I can forgive even one person, then that is something.”
“You understand, I am still a soldier of Rome,” Artorius replied, comprehending his meaning. “I, too, heard the Nazarene’s message, but that does not stop me from doing my duty. And whether I like it or not, that duty often involves killing.”
“I cannot judge one way or the other what you or the legions do in this campaign,” Alaric said. “As my queen seeks friendship with Rome, then Alaric of the Brigantes must become a Roman ally. As for Alaric of the Marsi, while I can never forget or put entirely behind me our people’s violent history, I know that further hatred is not the answer. And so I forgive you, Centurion Artorius, soldier of Rome.”
Chapter XVII: Mighty Rivers Run
“Second Legion will cross here,” Vespasian said the next day, nodding towards the shallow crossing hidden in a thick grove of trees. The woods and undergrowth were so dense, it was little wonder no one ever bothered to check and see if this particular point of the river was shallow enough for man and horse to cross. An auxiliary infantryman was grinning broadly as he waded out into the center, which came just up to his chest.
“The current is still deceptively strong,” a centurion noted as the auxiliary soldier was pulled under, frantically surfacing a minute later, about fifty feet further downstream. “We should still use the pontoon boats to get across.”
The men of the Second and Fourteenth Legions had been felling trees and constructing small rafts to create a pontoon bridge over the past two days. Leadership had also been scouting the riverbank in order to find the most viable place for launching that allowed enough tree cover to keep their movement concealed, while also being passable enough for legionaries to execute the operation at night.
“We’ll have a couple of our ablest swimmers drag ropes across for the men to lash the pontoons to,” the legate directed. He turned to Artorius. “The Twentieth will head west, up the river. There the woods are dense enough that you can get the entire legion across without anyone noticing. Are you sure about your plan?”
“It’s the best we can do,” the master centurion replied with a shrug.
“In the very least you can provide a blocking force,” Vespasian noted, “as well as preventing additional enemy reinforcements from reaching this place.”
The legate had originally considered altering the plan and keeping the Twentieth Legion where it was. However, he dismissed this when he considered that having even two legions in such a confined space was going to prove cumbersome, let alone three. Artorius made note of this as well.
“At least this way the Twentieth Legion can act as a mobile force and still find a way to crawl up Togodumnus’ ass,” he remarked.
The Ninth Legion had departed before dawn and was uniting with Admiral Stoppello’s fleet along the coast at the enormous mouth of the river. They had roughly eighteen miles to cover. Even with the lack of viable roadways, they were still expected to reach the coast by late afternoon. The remaining auxiliary infantry cohorts were part of the right wing division as well, along with approximately half of Tribune Cursor’s cavalry corps. The Twentieth Legion would begin its move at dusk in order to mask its movement. Artorius and Geta then finalized the last few details of the battle plan with Vespasian, to whom Plautius had given overall control of the center and left wing.
As the sun set, Artorius took his place at the head of the legion. He had dispersed the equite tribunes throughout the column in order to coordinate the large mass of soldiers, should they become disoriented or scattered. With the only road consisting of a narrow fisherman’s path that was, perhaps, wide enough for two to three men to walk abreast, Artorius had directed the legion to form two additional columns that would parallel the path and cut directly through the large forests.
The master centurion mounted his horse with the ever-present Nathanial walking next to him, taking the reins whenever Artorius needed to dismount. Camillus walked next to him, carrying the eagle aloft. There was no fanfare of trumpets nor any shouted orders echoed down the columns. Artorius simply started along on his horse at a slow walk, legionaries eventually falling in step behind him. He kept a measured pace, as the columns to his left had a far more arduous trek through the woods in the dark.