As they reached the far side of the fort, a line of barbarian warriors stood fast, trying to make a last stand. There were not very many. Many were bare-chested, their bodies bearing numerous cuts and burns. Their faces showed the extreme fear, desperation, and despair of men doomed to die. The Romans moved deliberately and with the utmost sense of order as they moved out of the haze of smoke and fire. The barbarians each carried a pair of spears. Together they threw a volley towards their advancing enemy.
“Down!” Macro shouted.
As they dropped behind their shields, most of the spears skipped off harmlessly. The warriors then mustered what courage they had left, gave a final battle cry, and charged the advancing Romans who had all simultaneously risen to their feet.
Vitruvius smashed a barbarian with his shield. Two rapid thrusts with his gladius and two opponents lay stricken on the ground, both twitching, blood gushing from their wounds as their bowels released in death.
One warrior tried to bring his spear around Artorius’ shield and stab him. He knocked the spear aside with his shield and slammed the point of his sword into the barbarian’s stomach. Magnus brought his shield down onto one warrior’s foot and followed it up with a stab underneath the ribs. Within a matter of seconds it was over. The Cherusci’s final charge had been little more than suicide.
Artorius mounted the far rampart and surveyed the scene below. There were a large number of women, children, and elderly, along with a handful of warriors, who were running for the woods. Roman infantry from Severus’ detachment had already sealed off their escape. They were marching back towards the fort, methodically slaying all who stood in their path. Artorius wondered if any had escaped or were all doomed to die in this place.
Germanicus then mounted the rampart himself and stared in awe at the spectacle of death. Realizing they were trapped, the Germans huddled close to each other in terror. The Romans ceased their advance as they came to within a few feet of the mob. Their officers eyed their commander, awaiting his confirmation.
“Do we take prisoners, sir?” a nearby centurion asked.
His face emotionless, Germanicus shook his head.
“We have come to destroy these people not conquer them. Extermination will be their lot.” He paused before reemphasizing his point. “Wipe them out…all of them.”
The centurion signaled to the men below who then continued in their brutal task, sparing none. Men, women, children, all were slain. The ground became slippery as the earth was saturated in blood.
Artorius turned back towards the scene of fire and death behind him. The smoke was incredibly thick. Fire had consumed nearly all of the structures inside. The smell of burning flesh was pungent. His stomach finally overcame his ability to suppress his gagging, and he found himself vomiting uncontrollably. He was at first ashamed, until he saw that he was not the only one. Even those who managed to control their stomachs looked worn and shaken. Germanicus also was ashen-faced at the sights and smells that assailed them.
Artorius gazed over his shoulder once more, hoping they would not have to walk back through the nightmare they had created. He saw the body of the woman he had slain laying over the body of her husband. Both were burning, along with the corpses of their children. He shook his head, wiped the smoke and sweat from his eyes, and looked back at the scene outside the stronghold. Some of the barbarians wailed and sobbed loudly, others just stared blankly into space as the Romans trapped them against the outside wall of the stronghold. Soon not a single one was left alive. Many of the soldiers averted their eyes, taking no pride in that, instead of warriors, they had executed mostly women, children, and the crippled elderly. They knew the repugnant task they had performed had been necessary to exact retribution and end the war, but it brought them little solace.
“Is this what victory looks like?” Artorius asked Magnus, who was surveying the scene with similar feelings.
“I guess it is,” he answered. “Though tell me this, Artorius, is this what revenge looks like?”
Artorius took a deep breath, unable to avert his gaze. “It is,” he said finally. “It is also the symbol of justice, the final justice that we have exacted.”
Arminius fell into the marsh with a loud splash. A mind-numbing pain shot through his injured leg as he lost his footing and fell face first into the mire. Strong hands lifted him to his feet. As he cleared the slime from his eyes, he was grateful to see it was one of his warriors, who had escaped from the hell that had been their stronghold. Arminius recognized the man’s face, though he could not remember his name. He looked around and saw there were a few others who had managed to make their way out. They were mostly warriors, most of the women and children having perished inside.
“Come, we must move quickly before the Romans close this area off,” the warrior said.
Arminius simply nodded as the man placed an arm under his and helped him make his way through the swamps.
“So much death,” he muttered to himself. He knew some of the men had taken their families and tried to escape during the night.
Perhaps some of them made it. The rest had stayed in the stronghold, believing that Arminius could somehow bring salvation and deliver them from Rome’s vengeance. Only a small handful of these managed to escape into the swamps, mostly young warriors without families. Those who knew that their loved ones could not escape had fought to the bitter end to protect them.
Arminius knew it had all been for naught. “Such is the price of our vanity.”
The sun was setting and the army stood once again in parade formation. The forces that attacked the woods had completely demolished their opposition. The dense woods had actually worked to the Romans’ advantage, as they were used to close combat and fighting in tight spaces. Though many had managed to flee the stronghold, even more had been slain as they fought to repel their attackers. Germanicus stood on a makeshift dais, holding aloft an inscribed placard; the final piece of another trophy constructed from the weapons of their fallen enemy. He was an absolute nightmare to look at. Soot, blood, and sweat covered him from head to foot, though he had lost none of his persona. He was completely exhausted and yet filled with elation. He placed the placard on the mound of enemy arms. The inscription read:
The army of Tiberius Caesar, after thoroughly conquering the tribes between the Rhine and the Elbe, has dedicated this monument to Mars, Jupiter, and Augustus. 1
“Once again we have brought victory to the name of the Emperor, the Senate, and the people of Rome!” Germanicus announced to his assembled host. “We have once more wrought vengeance upon our enemies! We can now return across the Rhine and then to Rome…in triumph!” This elicited a chorus of cheers from the ranks.
“My brothers, your deeds and your valor will echo throughout all time.” Germanicus raised his blood-encrusted gladius in triumph. He could not have been happier or more proud of his legionaries.
Chapter XXIV: Redemption
The army marched back to their boats on the Ems River. Though they still maintained proper vanguard and flank security, there was a sense of ease amongst the ranks. They knew the Cherusci and their allies were completely broken. So many warriors had died in the battles of the past few days. Roman losses in both battles, while regrettable, were much fewer in number. The auxiliary infantry had borne the brunt of the casualties at Idistaviso. Only a small handful had fallen during the storming of the German stronghold. Sadly, the Second Century had lost three men during the assault. Among the fallen was Antoninus, the young recruit who had gone through training with Artorius, Magnus, and Gavius. He had slipped on the turf while trying to get over the wall and had taken a spear thrust to the throat.