Soon after the assault, Germanicus had sent Stertinius to make war once more upon the Angrivarii. So abrupt had been their surrender that all knew the Germanic alliance to be truly broken. Keeping his word about showing mercy to those who surrendered willingly, he granted them a full pardon.
Upon reaching the Ems, Germanicus ordered the majority of the army to take the boats home. The Fifth and Twentieth Legions, however, he ordered to take the overland route back to the Rhine. A day after having started their march west, Severus and Gaius Silius, Legate of the Fifth Legion, were holding counsel in Severus’ tent when a legionary stuck his head in.
“Beg your pardon, sirs, but our reconnaissance patrols have captured a German who claims to be chief of the Marsi.”
“Send him in,” Severus replied with a wave of his hand.
The soldier nodded and left. Soon a burly but surprisingly well-dressed barbarian was ushered in by a pair of legionaries. He was wearing custom-made breeches, with a purple cloak draped over his muscular frame. His hair was pulled back, and his mustache neatly groomed. One of the soldiers carried the barbarian’s sword, which he handed to Silius. It was a large, two-handed broadsword, sheathed in a highly ornate scabbard.
“His weapon, sir.”
Silius took the sword and waved the soldiers away. Both men saluted and left the German alone with the legates. Silius drew the sword, admiring its craftsmanship.
“This is a good sword,” he remarked, hefting the weapon, checking its balance. “Given its condition, one would think it was meant more for ceremony than killing.”
“It has seen its share of fighting,” the Marsi chief replied in heavily accented Latin.
“Quite,” Silius replied, sheathing the weapon and placing it on a nearby table.
“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Severus asked, arms folded across his chest.
The German assumed a similar posture before continuing. “My name is Mallovendus. I am now chief of what remains of the Marsi. Most of our settlements, along with our people, were annihilated during your campaigns of the last years. Those who survived fear that we will once more face the Roman war machine, being as we are closest to your fortresses on the Rhine.”
“Such is the lot of your people,” Severus replied with a casual shrug. “But surely you did not come to simply make such an obvious observation.”
“No,” Mallovendus said, shaking his head. “I have come to offer truce and to beg for the lives of my people. I personally fear neither pain nor death.” He pulled back his cloak to reveal a number of fearful scars upon his torso. “What I do fear is that my people, like a candle, may be blown out of existence completely. We have paid for our warmongering. I now ask that those who survived be spared. My sword, please.” He pointed over to the table where his weapon still lay.
Severus gave an affirmative nod to Silius who handed the sword back to Mallovendus. The Marsi chief then dropped to one knee, head bowed, presenting his sword to Severus with his outstretched hands.
“I ask now that peace may exist between our peoples, that we may draw blades against each other no more.”
Severus maintained his stance and composure. “It would indeed benefit your people to enjoy the peace of Rome. However, what are you offering us in return for your deliverance; what token can you use to show us your good intentions?”
Mallovendus raised his head and looked Severus in the eye. “I offer you the return of the Eagle of the Nineteenth Legion.”
The Twentieth Legion was on the march. Artorius was thinking about his lost friend, Antoninus, when he saw riders approaching their column. The scouts were pointing out a Marsi settlement. He thought he heard the scouts say it was abandoned. Proculus and Master Centurion Flavius held a brief discussion before Flavius pointed Proculus towards the direction of the settlement. Proculus spurred his horse to his waiting men.
“Third Cohort…skirmishing formation, six ranks! At the quick step…march!”
The orders were echoed by the centurions and options as the cohort effortlessly formed up and marched away rapidly.
As they approached the abandoned settlement, torches were being passed out, when Centurion Macro gave the order not to ignite them. This puzzled most of the soldiers, as there were numerous huts and structures. This looked to have been a rather prosperous settlement that had somehow survived the purging of the Marsi lands.
“Take what you will, lads.” Macro ordered. “You have thirty minutes to round up whatever you can carry. The buildings, however, we will leave intact.”
The century cheered as they moved into the village. Even on a mission of plunder, they moved with order and discipline. Severus may have promised to spare the Marsi villages from burning; however, he had made no mention of plunder. Macro had been told the real reason for this. He had decided to keep it quiet, lest their search for the missing eagle prove futile.
Artorius entered a hut that he supposed belonged to a warrior, given the impressive, albeit archaic décor. There was an animal skin shield in one corner, along with a dagger and belt. He picked these up and examined them. The dagger was quite ornate, though in need of repair and oiling. He found a copper goblet that stank of some foul form of alcohol. He figured it had probably never been properly washed. It would seem the owner of the house had left in a hurry.
“Who are you?” Artorius asked aloud. “Are you really a rebellious warrior and an enemy of Rome? Or are you simply one of the many caught up in this war who only wants to live free and in peace?” He was surprised to hear such things coming from himself. He looked around then climbed a rough ladder to an elevated loft. There was a large, crude bed in the center, along with two smaller ones off to the side. Everything was in disarray.
Suddenly, he heard excited shouts coming from outside. He quickly exited the hut, taking the goblet and dagger with him. He saw Camillus being carried on the shoulders of other soldiers from the century. He carried what Artorius thought was the century’s standard, but realized it was planted in the ground where Macro stood waiting. Upon closer inspection, Artorius saw that what Camillus carried was a Roman standard; moreover, it was an Eagle Standard!
“It cannot be,” he breathed silently. He rushed forward to see that it was, unbelievably, an eagle the signifier bore. The Eagle of the Nineteenth Legion no less!
“I found it in the house of what was probably the war chief for this region.” Camillus said excitedly, once his friends had set him down in front of their centurion.
Macro could not contain his own smile of admiration and elation. The Nineteenth was his former legion after all. Mallovendus had kept his word. Camillus held the eagle towards Macro.
“It is only proper that you be the one to deliver this to Germanicus,” he said.
Macro nodded and took the eagle. A surge of emotions swept through him. It was as if the lost souls of the Nineteenth were suddenly alive again. They lived through this symbol of their prestige and valor. Macro immediately suppressed his feelings and looked sternly at his men.
“Alright, nobody told you to stop what you were doing. It’s been thirty minutes, now form it up at the double.”
He smiled to himself as the century rapidly fell in, every soldier struggling to carry what he had plundered along with kit. Macro clutched the standard even harder and closed his eyes. Redemption was his at last.
Germanicus stood on the command deck of his flagship. Though his men were riding a euphoric high from their victory, he felt uneasy. The wind was cold and was picking up. The waters were rough and choppy.