“I do.”
Wayne gestured for him to lead.
The German warriors had fled from Marcus’s patrol as suddenly as they had attacked. He understood; they were merely letting their presence be known, to intimidate him a little. The lightly armed Germans had done no significant harm to the well-armored, mounted Romans.
However, more certain than ever that a real rebellion was on the way, Marcus had led his patrol away from the site at a canter until the dense forest forced him to slow down. Before long, however, he located the section of muddy road that thousands of Roman legionaries had churned to slop on their march. Moving as quickly as the horses could handle the mud, he caught up to the Roman army again. They were just breaking formation, ready to begin making camp for the night.
The Roman army was still strung out along the road. The baggage wagons brought up the rear and drivers struggled to turn the teams of horses and move them off the road. In front of the baggage train, the infantry units marched away from the road to begin building the camp. The cavalry units had already moved into the trees.
The three of them rode slowly through the crowd of legionaries and baggage wagons to the front. There, Marcus found the tent of Governor Varus being raised in what would become the center of the camp. They were surrounded by legionaries shouting, giving orders, and hustling in different directions. Marcus leaped off his horse, looking around for the governor.
“Good day, Tribune,” Governor Varus called, moving away from a crowd of officers. “You look rather excited, Marcus. Have any luck today?”
“I had a decury of cavalry with me,” Marcus said quickly. “Governor, we were attacked by a small party of Cherusci. I wanted to report right away.”
“Yes?”
“Well…we were attacked, not too far from the river. Not far from here, really.”
“How far from here?”
“An hour’s ride.”
“By a small party?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many did we lose?”
“None, sir.”
“None? How many of them did you get?”
“I believe we wounded most of them, but they got away.”
“You lost none and killed none?”
“I believe that is correct, sir.”
“Marcus, was this a fight or a folk dance?” Governor Varus smirked.
“Sir!” Marcus stiffened. “This was an attack by poorly armed Germans on a trained cavalry patrol, but it was a serious skirmish.”
“Oh, Marcus, come on. How serious could it have been-a battle without one single unfortunate left dead on the ground from either side?”
“Their intent was to test our strength and our resolve,” said Marcus. “They were serious about that.”
“These minor tussles, Marcus, are merely the burden of the conqueror. They can be handled.” Varus looked up at the sky. “This is the first excuse for a dry day we have had in some time, if you ignore a little drizzle. I want to take a quick walk among the troops to boost their morale, before that infernal rain starts again.”
“But, sir, I really believe this skirmish is important.” Marcus walked alongside the governor as he began to walk. “It means more than it seems.”
“Marcus, I suggest you use this as a learning experience. For instance, what do you believe should be done?”
“I think we should send out a series of patrols right now and also at dawn, to find out if larger bodies of Germans have gathered elsewhere in these mountains.”
Governor Varus laughed lightly, shaking his head. “Well, you are dedicated, Marcus; no one has ever doubted that. But I don’t want to wear out a bunch of cavalry patrols on a wild-goose chase, not after those poor animals slogged through knee-deep mud in the road all day.”
“But, sir-”
“I’ll tell you what, Marcus,” said the governor. “if you wish, take out a larger patrol and burn a German village in retaliation for their attack on your patrol.”
“That won’t bring the kind of large-scale information I was talking about, sir.”
“That’s not an order, Tribune. It is merely an option you may wish to exercise. Make your own decision.”
“But, Governor-”
“Excuse me, Tribune. I believe I will mingle with the troops alone. See to your guests, eh?”
“Yes, sir.” Marcus stopped, his fists clenched in frustration as Governor Varus walked away.
Jane remained mounted, at first, when Marcus cantered up to Governor Varus. When the grooms came forward to take their horses, she dismounted and stood with Gene, a polite distance away. When Governor Varus and Marcus began walking away, she and Gene remained where they were.
“How much could you overhear?” Gene asked.
“Only a little. But it sounds like Varus is so close-minded that we don’t have much to worry about.”
“Keep your voice down about that stuff,” said Gene, glancing nervously at some legionaries marching past them. “We can’t afford to sound like security risks.”
“Sorry. Look, Marcus is coming back.”
Marcus’s face was taut as he strode toward them. He was as courteous as usual, however. “The governor’s tent is up. Let’s go sit down.”
Jane and Gene followed him into the tent, where Demetrius had already set up the furniture. He was just lighting the oil lamps to provide some light and heat. Marcus gestured for Jane and Gene to sit and collapsed into a chair himself.
“Wine, Demetrius,” said Marcus roughly.
“Yes, sir. Would you like that heated, sir?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Marcus sighed, then slammed his fist down on the table angrily.
Jane sat down, loosening her cloak around her, and glanced at Gene, who was warming his hands over the fire.
“He has no idea,” Marcus muttered. “Look, I have every respect for Governor Varus. But I just know he is missing something about these German tribes.”
Jane nodded, afraid to say anything.
Marcus turned to Gene. “In many ways, he is a fine man, but he is taking Roman power for granted.”
“We are merely traders,” said Gene.
Demetrius entered with a tray of bread and mulled wine. He served it to the three of them in silence. Outside the tent, the men working to make camp shouted and called to each other. Marcus waved a hand for Demetrius to leave.
Jane tasted the wine carefully. After a day out in the cold, the warmth was welcome. The bread was not fresh, but it was better than nothing.
“I could burn a village,” said Marcus. “I have the authority to do that.”
“Burn a village?” Jane looked up.
“This is a normal form of retaliation.” Marcus shook his head. “But in this case, it will simply spur greater resistance to us, and tell us nothing.”
Gene joined the other two at the table, saying nothing as he tore apart a piece of bread.
Jane was more uncomfortable than ever.
Marcus looked at Gene. “Maybe you have had a leader who made a mistake at one time or another. How would you tell Hunter, for instance, that he is wrong?”
“Well…Hunter is quite reasonable. He is open to discussion.”
Marcus turned to Jane. “You feel that way, as well? How would you speak to him?”
“Hunter can be persuaded, with enough evidence,” said Jane, over her goblet of wine.
Marcus merely nodded and took another piece of bread. “You are fortunate.”
They ate and drank in silence for a while. When the bread and wine were gone, Marcus brushed away crumbs and stood up. Jane rose too, waiting to see what he would say.
“Would you excuse me? You may remain here, of course, and be comfortable.” Marcus waved to Demetrius, who was standing outside the tent. “Bring them more if they wish.”
“I’m finished,” said Jane.
“Thank you, I’ve had plenty, too.” Gene got up and joined Jane.
“Very well,” said Marcus. “As you wish, of course. Make yourselves comfortable.” He ducked out of the tent and hurried away.
“Let’s take a little walk,” said Jane. She wanted to talk to Gene without Demetrius listening.
“Sure.”
Outside the tent, Roman legionaries surrounded them everywhere, but everyone was occupied. Gene and Jane walked casually, staying out of the way of the troops and the work crews. In turn, they were ignored.