“We waited too long to return home,” he mused.
“Beg your pardon, sir?” the sailing master asked.
Germanicus shook his head. “Nothing, just talking to myself.” The old sailor frowned and nodded. “Always rough seas, this time of year.” His eyes then grew wide as he looked into the distance. He immediately forgot about his commander and started running about, shouting orders to frantic sailors. Germanicus gazed into the distance and nearly panicked. The churning clouds were black and racing towards them, as if they had a mind of their own. Lightning could be seen flashing, highlighting foaming waves large enough to swallow the entire fleet.
As soldiers came up from below deck, Germanicus raced to the front of the ship. Some soldiers started to panic, unfamiliar as many of them were with an ocean gale. Others rushed about to help the sailors, unaware that their good intentions only inhibited the seamen from doing their job.
“Neptune, have mercy,” Germanicus whispered as he clung to the railing with one hand and wrapped his other in a mooring rope. “Hold on!”
Chapter XXV: The Bitter sweet Aftermath of War
Artorius lay on his bunk back at the fortress. As good as the bathhouse had felt, and as good as it would feel later to go have a spot of wine and perhaps get his hands on a tasty harlot, for the moment it was enough just to relax on his own bed. His body still ached, yet he was completely content. Rumor had it the old warrior he had slain was none other than Arminius’ own uncle, Ingiomerus. Unfortunately, the Cherusci war chief himself had somehow escaped. It mattered not. The Germanic tribes were broken. Their warriors lay dead without as much as a grave. Their people had been scattered and left without hope. It would be a long time before they even considered contesting the might of Rome again. Artorius was certain that such a thing would not occur again in his lifetime. For the first time in many years, he felt at peace. He felt, at last, the souls of his brother and mother had been given justice. His quest, his reason for joining the army was done.
“Just so you know, we’ve got a full kit inspection tomorrow morning,” Praxus said as he walked through the barracks.
Artorius sighed. Of course his equipment was immaculate and maintained; it was just a hassle was all. It meant life was returning to normal around the fortress, whatever normal meant. Artorius had never really experienced what one would consider normal life around an army fortress. The day he joined they had been preparing for war. Now they would be preparing for the return to Rome to celebrate their triumph; that is, as soon as the rest of the army arrived from their seaborne journey. Rumors ran rampant that calamity had struck the fleet, great storms blowing the ships about, scattering all to the four winds.
“Has anyone heard any more concerning Germanicus and the rest of the army?” he asked, sitting upright on his bunk.
“I was walking along, minding my own business, when I saw some dispatch riders heading over to headquarters in a big hurry,” Decimus answered. “So I wandered over and heard a bit about how Germanicus was finally on his way back and had just reached the Batavi isles.”
Artorius shot him a perplexed look. “Decimus, how is it that you always ‘happen to just be around’ whenever something important happens?” Decimus grinned and shrugged. “It’s a talent, I guess.”
Magnus, meanwhile, was working frantically on some popped rivets on his body armor.
While the lorica segmentata was ideally suited for close combat and could absorb most arrow and weapon strikes, it was extremely high maintenance.
“Damn it, these brass fittings are a pain in the backside,” Magnus cursed as a rivet slipped out of his pliers and fell onto the ground.
Artorius laughed sarcastically. “If you’d use your shield instead of your body to block enemy blows, you wouldn’t have to work on your armor so much.” Magnus picked up a rivet and threw it at him.
Praxus rolled his eyes and walked over to Magnus’ bunk. “Here, let me help me you with that” Praxus had some of the surest hands when it came to working with small parts and soon had Magnus’ armor put back together. “Just don’t think I’m going to make a habit of this,” he laughed as he threw the cuirass at the Norseman.
Germanicus sat trembling as Severus handed him a goblet of wine. The commanding general looked haggard, was unshaven, and in desperate need of a bath. “No sooner do we reach open sea, but a storm unlike any I’ve ever seen in my lifetime comes upon us like the wrath of Neptune. The entire fleet was scattered. Those poor bastards on the barge rafts were swept out of sight in moments. Our men were of little help to the mariners, seeing as how none knew a damn thing about handling of a ship or of ocean storms. When the seas finally stopped churning and we reached land, my ship was completely alone.” He took a long draught of wine before continuing.
“Eventually, the shattered vessels with but few rowers, or clothing spread as sails, some towed by the more powerful, returned. We speedily repaired them, sent them to search the islands. Many more of our men were recovered this way. The Angrivarii had even restored to us several that they had ransomed from the inland tribes, in an effort to show their new found fidelity. Some vessels had been carried to Britain and were sent back by the petty chiefs. Every one, as he returned from some far-distant region, told of wonders, of violent hurricanes, and unknown birds, of monsters of the sea, of forms half-human, half beast-like, things they had really seen or in their terror believed.” 1 His eyes were distant as he relayed everything to Severus.
“I received your dispatches concerning this,” the older general replied, taking a seat across from Germanicus, “but why the added delays? You made no mention of any pending action against the tribes in the area.”
“It wasn’t until after I sent the dispatch riders that I decided to strike against the Chatti. They had not been as brutally ravaged as most of the tribes who fought at Idistaviso, so I sought to launch a preemptive strike against them, lest they become overzealous when news of our folly reached them. We attacked them with increased energy, advanced into the country, laying it waste and utterly ruining a foe who dared not encounter us, or else instantly defeating those who resisted. We learned from prisoners that the barbarians were never more panic-stricken. They declared us to be invincible, rising superior to all calamities; for having thrown away a fleet, having lost our arms, and after strewing the shores with the carcasses of horses and of men, we had rushed to the attack with the same courage, with equal spirit, and, seemingly, with augmented numbers. 2 This was of course nonsense. Our numbers only seemed augmented because the vast majority of our men survived their harrowing ordeals and managed to regroup with the main body once more.
“Our men were overjoyed by the spoils of this fresh mini-campaign, as it eased the blows of the calamities we had endured since sailing up the Ems River. The added bounty that I paid them out of my own pockets in recompense to their losses eased their suffering as well.”
Severus refilled Germanicus’ goblet as he sat back and absorbed everything he had heard.
“And now,” Germanicus said after a lengthy pause, “we must plan afresh as to how we will finish things for good next year. The barbarians have been sorely whipped and have felt the full wrath of our vengeance. I think the next campaign will be rather bloodless; rather it will show the barbarians that we can and will strike at them at our leisure. There has been talk of negotiations amongst the surviving war chiefs for a lasting peace with Rome. I think one last campaign will seal that.”
“There won’t be any last campaign, at least not for us,” Severus replied.