By Terikel Grayhair




Marcus Hordeonis Flaccus put down the dispatch scroll and rubbed his wrinkled eyes. Sighing, he pushed his thinning gray hair forward over the balding center and gathered up the folds of his toga. He stood and sighed again, then called for his aide.

“Release the tribune Marcus Rutilius from house arrest and bring him here,” he ordered. “His story has been confirmed.”

The aide saluted and departed. Flaccus sat down hard again.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he said to himself. True, we officers who despised Aulus Vitellius and his self-indulgent ways did ask Civilis to stage an uprising, but the key words were ‘to stage’- make it seem the north was erupting in flames so that we could honestly refuse his orders for more reinforcements on the basis of Imperial Danger. Civilis was to put on a pretty show- not destroy every vestige of Roman power between Castra Vetera and the sea! For this he must pay.

Flaccus stood up again, despite the aching in his gout-ridden ankles and hobbled over to the map adorning the wall of his office. Civilis had eight Batavian auxiliary cavalry cohorts, a few Batavian infantry cohorts trained in the Roman manner, and a few tumultae cohorts who fought in the Batavian style as irregulars. Added to that was the warhost of the Cananefate, which was never strong but had grown these past months into a force powerful enough to annihilate legions in open battle. And then there were the Frisians Rutilius reported seeing at the conclave in the burned ruins of Traiectum. How many and of what types were they?

It would not matter. He had two legions at Castra Vetera, only thirty five Roman miles from the Batavian civitas at Batavodurum- a two day march over what passes for Batavian roads, three if the commander is cautious in those woods. Quintus Munius Lupercus was an arrogant fool and a worthless administrator, but he was a competent commander or he never would have been made legate and given command over his own V Alaudae and the XV Primigenia legions, together with their auxilia. It was time for that arrogant ass to earn his salt.

The aide returned, holding the door open for Rutilius. The scarred blond officer entered primly and assumed the position of attention before the commander. Flaccus waved his free hand to dismiss the aide, then motioned for the tribune to join him at the map.

“Your commission in the private legion of Vorenus is revoked,” Flaccus said curtly. “I am returning you to duty immediately at your former rank of centurion. For your activities in bringing me detailed reports of hostile activities above and beyond the call of duty, you are hereby promoted to tribunus militaris, as well as earning a set of phalarae in gold.”

Rutilius stood rock-still. So, his private commission was now a true commission. Lovely, but it doesn’t help now.

“You will carry the orders I will generate this afternoon to Legate Quintus Munius Lupercus at Castra Vetera. These orders command him to attack immediately the Batavian rebels at their civitas, then proceed to crush them utterly. You are hereby assigned to the V Alaudae as tribunus laticlavius – another promotion, well earned- and will serve Lupercus as a special advisor. You know the area and the enemy better than anyone left alive, Rutilius. If anyone can defeat Civilis, Lupercus can do it with your advice.”

Rutilius shrugged off the second promotion. “You do realize that Lupercus threw my ass ....eh, me in prison for desertion when I reported to him, do you not? And that I escaped his prison with German help and in doing so released his German prisoner? And then stole two horses and associated equipment form his legion and used them to facilitate this escape? Lupercus would not welcome me back, especially as his Second in Command!”

“Lupercus will obey orders!” Flaccus barked.

“I met a decurion just east of Batavodurum,” Rutilius continued. “Publius Arrius. We talked a lot on that ride before he denounced me as a deserter to Lupercus. He knows just as much as I do, and more- his knowledge is of the Batavians, our enemy. Mine is of the Cananefate, who were our Friend and Ally until Vorenus ordered us to enslave them. Arrius would be better to advise Lupercus than a man he convicted of desertion. Besides, my commission died with my legion, and I need to travel to Rome to fulfill a vow sworn to Jupiter Optimus and Mars and every other god no matter what name he uses. I am done in the North, lord, until I fulfill that sacred vow.”

Flaccus thought hard about this, then sighed. “I will have an augur perform the divination rites concerning my orders contradicting this vow. If the portents are favorable, the gods will have released you from this vow and you will be required to follow my orders. If the portents are unfavorable, then it will be the will of the gods that you fulfill your vow first and then return to duty.”

Rutilius nodded. “Fair enough, lord. If that is the will of the gods. But I also gave my word of honor to report the innocence of the Cananefate in this affair.”

“Duly noted,” Flaccus said with a sigh of victory. “When this Batavian war is over, the Cananefate will be treated with dignity and leniency. You have my word, tribunus.”

* * * * * * *

Rutilius rode south the following morning, bitter and relieved at the same time. He was carrying dispatches from Flaccus requesting troops from every governor in Gaul and in a hurry, as well as letters to Vitellius explaining the situation and why he was not able to send him reinforcements. Rutilius cared not what official business he had heading south, he was going to Rome to fulfill his vow as promised.

The image of the goat’s liver was still fresh in his mind. It was a beautiful beast, pure white with golden eyes. He was sure the augur had picked it for its perfection and thus its guarantee of favorable signs supporting Flaccus. Yet the blackened organ was covered in tumors of varying colors and so putrefied that it threatened to fall apart in the augur’s hand. Never had any augur seen such a horrible infestation in a goat otherwise so pure. The signs were clear- the gods did not tolerate anyone breaking a vow made to them.

* * * * * * *

A second rider approached the gates of Castra Vetera a few days later. He was greeted as was the goat- welcomed warmly and brought with care to the altar, then reviled and shunned when his entrails were revealed. In this case it was not the entrails of the rider that was opened and inspected, but the contents of his dispatch bag.

“Cacat!” shrieked Munius Lupercus as he read the scrolls. “How is this possible? A Batavian revolt right under our noses? Cohorts slaughtered like sheep upon the Rhein? Our navy mutinied or captured? And we knew nothing?!?”

“You ordered our men not to proceed further west than Batavodurm, legate,” Sextus Uleus replied. As the commander of the V Alaudae Cavalry Auxilia, it was his task to ensure his commander knew everything about the situation. Yet when the commander himself hinders operations with foolish restrictions, he has only himself to blame. “The events described in those dispatches all occurred west of the civitas, where we were forbidden to go.”

Lupercus sighed and put down the scroll. It was time to reveal strategic issues to his officers and hope they see the light. “We have suspected the Batavians would revolt or rebel for some time now. Galba dismissed the Corpus Custodes- the Imperial Batavian Body Guard. It was not a pleasant dismissal or even a retirement. He simply ordered them gone once he entered the Imperial Palace. There were two Batavian princes in that bodyguard- Tiberius Paullus and Julius Civlis. Both had been arrrested by Nero on charges of treason. They supported Galba, it seemed. Anyway, Paullus was killed on orders of Galba, and Civilis was sent here, to what Rome thought was the end of the world. Then Galba names that fool Piso as his heir and gets murdered by Marcus Salvius Otho, who usurps the throne. This of course, enraged our beloved commander Aulus Vitellius, who took half the army and made himself emperor by destroying Otho at Bedriacum. Then, the bloody East declared Titus Flavius Vespasianus as emperor and Vitellius demanded more troops to be levied, among them more Batavian auxiliaries.

“So what we have here are the Batavians- insulted by Nero, humiliated by Galba, ignored by Otho, and exploited by Vitellius. Their princes were jailed, one was tortured and executed, the other exiled back to his lands. With our military here weakened to the point where legates began recruiting and equipping private legions in an effort to maintain some strength on the border, we have created a wonderful opportunity for the Batavians to revolt. That was why I ordered our cavalry to stay east of Batavodurum- so they would not be cut off by or caught up in the imminent Batavian revolt.

“Instead, we were caught by surprise by a Cananefate revolt. Our forces and scouts were deployed to combat a Batavian threat. That left the west open. But Vorenus had two legions and with tacit approval from higher, raised two more. That was to be our hammer upon which to crush the Batavians while we here provided the anvil. Now we have our orders, from Flaccus himself. We are to be the hammer; there is no anvil.”



Lupercus rose and moved to the map. “Lucius, your XV Legio Primigenia will advance toward Batavodurum on the left flank of my V Alaudae. No time for fancy maneuvering, a straight march up the river road and we burn Batavodurum. To lure away the defenders, I want the all auxiliaries to be placed under the command of you, Sextus Uleus, and loaded onto what ships we have left. You will sail downriver to here, Arenacum, and threaten Batavodurum from the north. Do not engage! Simply draw them away from Batavodurum. If they come against you in force, your mission is a success. Withdraw to the fleet and return here. By the time those fools return to their civitas, they will find only ashes. Any questions?”

“What about the soldiers you sold to Massilia?” asked a decurion from the back of the orders group. “Shall we order their return to duty, now that it has been proven that they were indeed survivors and not deserters?”

Lupercus glared at the decurion evilly. “Those men were legally charged for desertion, legally sentenced to death for such by a military tribunal, legally reprieved by myself from death, then legally sold to the slavers. Nothing we know now changes those facts. They were cowards who fled, they deserve a coward’s fate. End of discussion.”

Publius Arrius nodded solemnly. Who was he to argue law to a man more consumed by love of gold than justice? Besides, the man’s reasoning allayed his conscience. He now felt no guilt whatsoever for either giving the convicted tribune from Traiectum those two horses, or for slipping them out of the fortress with his pre-dawn patrol.

* * * * * * *

"They come," huffed the tired rider between gasping breaths. "We saw both Eagles on the road here, one behind the other as they exited their stone-walled fort. But we also saw ships departing downriver."

"Hel's Half-white Face," Civilis swore softly. "From there they can either sail direct to Batavodurum and bypass our warhost, or sail the northern river and come in from there." He turned to the smaller, darker man beside him. "This changes things, Brinno."

Brinno of the Cananefate shook his head. "No, we still engage the legions along the road from Vetera. Have your own boats prepared to defend your civitas from the river, while we send my brother north with the Frisians to the captured Roman fleet and do the same from there. That neutralizes the riverborne threat."

Civilis smiled. His wounds and missing eye gave the grin an evil cast, but none there mistook its meaning. "Now I see why the tribes elected you general," he said. "That is brilliant."

Brinno smiled back. Unlike the grin from Civilis, his was a warm and handsome smile. "I will make the arrangements. You get the warhost moving down the road to where we agreed. And don't forget the spectators!"

Civilis smiled cruelly at that. Brinno had thought up a wonderful plan. The Batavians would need a wonderful plan to defeat two legions in open battle. The Cananefate defeated four legions, but that was in four separate battles. No German since Hermann had defeated more than a single legion in open battle since the days of Augustus. It was time to change that. With Brinno leading the forces, they would.

Brinno was more dour. Victory for the outnumbered Germanic tribes would be dependent on the favor of the gods, extreme bravery upon the field of battle, defeating the enemy piecemeal, or all three. As he was not a religious man, and knew bravery could not stop swords from entering flesh, he was determined to chop the Romans up cohort by cohort. Victory will be theirs this day, but at what price?

* * * * * * *

"Germans ahead," Arrius reported to Lupercus. "Looks like several thousand. Women among them."

Quintus Munius Lupercus smiled. Several thousand Batavians were waiting for his legions. The presence of women meant the entire Batavian tribe was there. By Mars he would eradicate this entire revolt before the sun set. What a magnificent omen! Quintus Munius Lupercus Batavicus!

"Order the XV Primigenia to assume position on our flank," he commanded. "And halt our march. Deploy the cohorts line abreast, two cohorts deep, cavalry to the flanks and skirmishers to the front. We will wait until the XVth is in position then attack to destroy."

Arrius thumped a fist to his heart and departed to spread the orders. Lupercus moved with his bodyguard forward to examine the German lines for himself.

* * * * * * *

"Here they come," Civilis whispered, despite the distance. "Just like I predicted."

Beside him, Brinno simply nodded. He knew the Romans would deploy both legions laterally as well- any fool knew that. He was waiting for the Romans to do something unexpected- like attack the civilians yelling and screaming from the hill to the left, or to stop to await the riverborne forces. His eyes glanced to the river beyond. The waters were as placid there as the woodline in which he was hidden. He wished Niall well, for no boats upon the river here meant those forces went north towards Arenacum and Niall.

The XVth was almost deployed where Brinno wanted it when something went wrong. Maybe the commander got nervous, or maybe a scout saw a Cananefate cloak in the brush. Whatever, the alarm went out. Cursing, but softly, Brinno rose and sounded his horn. The German warhost marched out of the woodline to the legion's left and the battle was on.

* * * * * * *

Legate Lucius Favonius cursed as he watched hordes of armed men emerging from his flank instead of straight ahead.

"Legion! Wheel left!" he ordered. His trumpeter echoed the command, and the disciplined XVth legion began spinning to face this new threat. "Courier! Send word to Lupercus that we are engaging a foe attacking on our flank!"



Favonius cursed the lack of artillery, but the dirt paths the Batavians called roads would not have supported their weight. Still, a few well-placed boulders or firepots among that advancing host may slow them down long enough for his cohorts to properly deploy.

He rode forward to see exactly what he was up against. Civilis had cavalry and the Cananefate had spear-infantry. What did the Frisians have, and were there other tribesmen in that host?

"Cacat!" he exclaimed when he saw the warhost facing him. The Cananefate spearmen advanced eagerly, flanked by those awful axe-wielding murderers. Behind them he could make out bands of archers running, emplacing amphora of oil and torches into the ground as they took up position. The entire Batavian warhost was coming upon his wheeling cohorts. But what really gave him chills were the cohorts of Batavian cavalry on the Batavian right- his left, where only a single cohort of cavalry marched.

He glanced behind him as his men hastened to battle. The V Alaudae had been ahead of him before he marched to their flank. They should be right behind him now, but they weren't any more. Then he saw a standard emerging from the woods. Help was coming, but would the Larks of the Vth arrive in time?

* * * * * * *

Pila showered the Cananefate warhost as it closed with the Romans. Here and there a man fell, and elsewhere men discarded shields now useless with ten pounds of broken pila hanging from them. But the Cananefate held their ranks, and in doing so drew the Romans to them.

That was the moment Brinno had been wanting. The full Roman attention was on the spearmen before them. His Batavian cavalry was stacked three cohorts deep on the right; opposing them was a single cohort of Treveri cavalry. Lambs to the slaughter, he thought, as he ordered the Batavians forward.

Bracco Oscarson loved being a cavalry commander. Now he was the lead centurion of three cohorts of Batavians, the best horsemen in the Empire. Like the warhawk he was, he swooped down upon the helpless Treveri serving the XVth as cavalry, shattering their Roman formation with Batavian might and sending the few- very few- survivors fleeing. Then he wheeled his squadrons about to ravage the real meat of this feast- the Ubii spearmen flanking the legionaries, who even now had yet to realize that the Treveri were destroyed and their vulnerable flank was wide open.



Favonius might have seen it coming, but he was too involved in his personal situation on the north side of the battlefield to do anything about it except pray to Mars and Mithra that the Ubians noticed the Treveri routing and dying to their left. His own problems were worse. His right flank was guarded by his prize cohort of Batavian cavalry, led by Claudius Labeo, a deadly enemy of Civilis. Favonius had been counting on that bloodfeud to secure his right flank. His surprise was total and utterly complete when his loyal Batavians lifted their lances in salute, wheeled about, and trampled under the legionaries whose flank they had been guarding moments before.

The Ubii had not noticed the flight of the Treveri. They broke immediately upon impact. Cananefate spears to their front, Frisian axes to their flanks, and now Batavian lances in their backs, there was no prayer of hope for the Ubii who fought for Rome this day. They fled, and those who did not, died. One after another the three Ubii cohorts either broke or died, leaving the legionaries to fight alone as the Batavians rolled up the flank like a well-used rug.

Favonius led his bodyguard into the fray, scattering his former cavalry and driving them away from his cohorts. He barely had time to withdraw himself before the Cananefate spearwall closed in. But now he had veteran legionaries between his horses and those Cananefate spears.

“Cohorts!” he commanded. ”Attack!”

With rousing yells, the men of the VI and VIII cohorts hefted their pila and let loose a deadly storm upon the advancing Germani. Dozens fell, but dozens more filled their gaps. The Romans charged the hedge of spears, desperately trying to chop off spearheads and brush aside lethal points to come to swordspoints with the Germans, but their efforts were in vain. The spearwall held, and Romans died.



Favonius did not see this, because the bloody Batavians had returned to battle and together with Labeo, drove him from his refuge behind the legionaries. His absence was felt immediately, and the VI and VIII cohorts no longer had the courage to face those evil spears. They began falling back. Favonius then made a fatal error- he charged among them to rally the legionaries, but a Batavian lance toppled him from the saddle. His death was an omen to his men. They broke and ran, only to be cut down by the rampaging Batavian cavalry.

Brinno was pleased so far. Despite the deadly pila his men had to endure, he had lost relatively few men. His lines held the Romans in place long enough for the Batavians to crush them, and now with the legate dead, it was a simple matter of mopping up and reforming before the other legion arrived.

But the Romans were not to be so accommodating. The VI and VIII cohorts had broken, but the I cohort was pushed to the north and out of the battle. The II cohort moved to their flank, while the IV cohort stood fast and attempted to buy their brethren time. All they had to do was hold out until the V Legion Alaudae came to their rescue. Where was the bloody Vth?

* * * * * * *



Quintus Munius Lupercus was wondering almost the same thing. He was facing the entire Batavian tribe, and that useless idiot Favonius was to be moving up upon his left and smash those Germani from the flank.

The noise of the Batavian women screeching and the warriors howling their awful warcries was defeaning. Worse, there were Roman Legionary Eagles adorned with severed heads seen among the center- evidently where Civilis was hiding. Surrounding the Eagles were hosts of signifers and other Roman standards- trophies of battle. His men tried to drown out the screeching and bellowing with warsongs of their own, but the effect was pitiful and woefully inadequate.

Except to Brinno, who had counted on the racket to drown out the cries for help from the XV Primigenia- who even now were retreating away and leaving the Larks of the Vth wide open to attack.

* * * * * * *

The IV cohort found itself in a Cananefate crunch when a spearband flanked it. Pierced and stabbed from side and front, the men had enough. Those who wished to live fled back toward Castra Vetera, those who had any brains fled to the V Alaudae.

* * * * * * *

“Cacat!” screamed Lupercus when a guardsman pointed to the bloody clots approaching from the south. Those clots were the men of the XVth, and very few at that. He knew immediately that he had been had, fooled by the civilians upon the hilltop. The warhost he was seeking was to his south. “Bugler! Wheel left, at the double!”

The sounding of the bugle drowned out the soldiers’ voices, which silenced as the orders were obeyed. At the double, the Vth legion moved south to rescue the XVth. But it was too little, too late.

The Vth hit Brinno’s spearwall and stopped dead in its tracks. Lupercus tried to encourage his men, but a storm of arrows drove him off. As he retired, he saw the Batavian horsemen closing in fast from both flanks.



* * * * * * *

“Let loose Ulf Hagar’s Son!” Brinno shouted. “Berserkers! Harvest death among our foes!”

Ulf Hagar’s Son needed no second command. His gang’s entrance into the battle was timed perfectly to coincide with the impact of the Batavians. That was more than enough for the men of the Vth, who had been fighting atop mounds of dead legionaries from the XVth.

Lupercus cursed as he watched his men break. There was nothing more for him to do except extricate what he could from this disaster.

“Bugler! Sound the retreat!” he called. “Courier! Order our Ubians forward. Their deaths may allow Romans to live this day. Move it! Your life depends on it!”


* * * * * * *

Brinno watched the Ubian surge, caught it on Cananefate shields, and boxed them in. The Batavians harassed the fleeing legionaries, killing many, but many escaped. He sighed, it was enough for one day. It was now time to count the dead and celebrate the victory.


* * * * * * *


It was a three-fold feast that evening outside the Batavian civitas. The Batavians were celebrating their victory over two full Roman legions, something nobody but the Bructeri seeress Veleda had foreseen as possible before the Cananefate victories a month ago. The Roman baggage train had been pillaged, but there was not much there but food and some wine. Civilis opened his cellars for the feast, and beer flowed like the mighty Rhein as the Batavians roasted spitted steers above bonfires.

The both the Batavians and the Cananefate were celebrating a second victory- Niall had returned from Arenacum, on the northern shore of the Batavian island. He and the Frisians had waited until the Roman auxiliaries landed and began heading inland before sweeping in from the river behind them and sinking or driving away their vessels. Then they landed, and caught the auxiliaries in a Frisian vise and crushed them utterly. Thus the waterborne threat to Batavodurum also evaporated.

And the Cananefate were celebrating a third event. Brinno clapped his brother on the shoulder and steered him to the central fire. There, he shouted for silence. As the hush fell, he gathered his elders and champions closer and held his brother firmly.

“Warriors of the Lowlands, tonight we feast to celebrate a victory worthy of heroes!” he said with a grin. “All here, with the exception of my brother who celebrates his own victory, fought in that grand melee. But we also celebrate the triumph of my brother, Niall, who led Frisian warriors on land and water to defeat the Romans. These two great victories, together with what we have done in our own lands, have set the Lowlands free of Roman presence for the first time since the Great Augustus. For this deed, we celebrate!”

A rousing chorus of cheers answered his speech, subsiding only once he waved his hand for silence.

“But we celebrate not only victory this evening, but the coming of age of a warrior. There is one among us here who joined this warhost not as a warrior, but as a runner. This man has not yet begun to shave- “ callous laughter interrupted his tempo, but Brinno let it pass, ”and had not been given a sword or spear, yet he killed his first Roman with a discarded weapon and pursued the fleeing foe from Traiectum. As we all know, slaying fleeing men requires no skill, and no man has ever been granted the title of warrior for merely doing so, this lad included.

“ We thought him dead in the pursuit, yet this boy-turned-man fooled us all. He had been captured by the Romans, but broke loose and escaped by his lonesome. He came upon our warhost just as our allies were rolling up the Ubii, and joined in the battle against the Eagle commander. His strength is that of a boy, as evidenced by the cuts and gashes he gathered by not properly parrying Roman swords, but in his heart he is a warrior worthy of the title. He has shed his blood and taken lives in honorable melee, thus earning his status. So, warriors of the Cananefate, though we have lost many warriors this day, this evening we welcome one into our brotherhood. All hail Jorgen, Son of Niall!”

Niall almost fell to his knees, and would have had not his brother been supporting him. Jorgen, his son, missing since Traiectum, was alive and well, and now a warrior, by the gods! The crowd parted, and Jorgen strode forward to kneel before his uncle and father.

Brinno held up a gladius, notched and dulled from combat. The blade was wiped clean of blood, though some dark ichor still stained it just above the hilt. To the cheering warriors, he exclaimed, “This is the sword of the enemy, yet with this sword Jorgen Niall’s Son killed at least ten foes this day. I present him with this sword this evening as a trophy, and a weapon suitable to his strength and ability. When he comes fully into his manhood, I will present him with another more suitable to that time.”

A huge cheer went up from the Cananefate, and warriors surged forward to greet their newest brother. Jorgen smiled unabashed, and Niall positively beamed in delight- his son was returned to him, and as a warrior before the proper age. Odin had blessed him again.

As the night wore on, weary warriors dropped away one by one, then in groups. Soon Brinno turned in, moving towards his tent. Jorgen grasped his father’s arm and led him to the tent of the king.

“Uncle, I have much to discuss with you,” he said to Brinno with a sincerity that belied his age. “Father should hear this as well, for if you should be taken to Valhalla, it will be him that leads our tribe.”

The seriousness of the youth startled both men. Jorgen has grown up hard this past month. No longer a boy, but a warrior. Brinno nodded and led them inside.

“I told you of my capture and escape, Uncle, but I left out some details,” he began. He looked about to ensure no hidden ears heard his words. “I was taken to Castra Vetera, the burg of the men we slew today and cast into their prison. The walls were sturdy stone, and the only door made of iron. I was trapped. I was let out several times to bathe and to be adored by the camp commander, a vile man called Lupercus. One day while I was out, the jailors hammered an iron ring into the floor. The fools left the hammer and a few other items in the room, which I secreted under the filthy straw that served as a mattress.”

“I did not know why they were so foolish and careless, but that hammer served me well. It kept the slavers and torturers of Lupercus away, after I broke one’s head open with the hammer. It was then they decided to starve me into submission. Why not? Even with the hammer I could not smash my way out of that hole, and Lupercus refused to allow them to kill me.

“Then one day several soldiers entered, in full armor and with shields and swords ready. Two others chained an unconscious man to the iron ring and left, never once letting me get near them with that hammer. I think they assumed I would kill this man, since he was a Roman and I a Cananefate. But I let him live, because I thought him a ghost. But he was not a ghost. He was Marcus Rutilius, and he lives.”

“So?” asked Niall and Brinno in unison. Letting an enemy live when you have the power to correct that situation struck them both as foolish.

“You called him Rutilius the Fair, Father,” Jorgen pointed out. “And he has always been just in his dealings with us. I did not consider him a foe, though he was Roman. And he had knowledge I wish to share with you, alone.”

The men indulged the young warrior. Heads moving closer, they listened enraptured to the boy’s low whispers as he told of what he learned from Rutilius.

“Vorenus the Butcher sent his legions against us because he had heard that we were rich, yet starving due to the flood and poor harvests. This last part was easily verified as we had been inundated and the salt water poisoned our fields. Since this was true, the other must be true as well. Starving men make poor warriors, so Vorenus thought to enslave us easily. The signs we left- the coins of Germanicus and the runes Friend and Ally, were either ignored or proof to the Romans that we had such wealth that we could afford to leave precious silver laying about. The rest you know, but what you don’t know is how Vorenus came by this information.”

He had them now. “Vorenus heard of our plight and our wealth from his Batavian auxiliaries. Those same auxiliaries also knew our rites- and what signs we would leave when evacuating as Grandfather told us. They used that knowledge to convince Vorenus we were ripe for plucking- and that butcher never needed much convincing to pillage.”

“Are you sure of this?” Brinno asked with disbelief staining his voice. Jorgen merely nodded.

“Rutilius heard it himself, and told me while he freed me from Castra Vetera. He gave me that short sword, by the way. He also told me of the civil war plaguing the Eagles- Vitellius is under attack by an Eagle chieftain called Vespasian, and had just won the throne from Otho who had inherited it a month or so before from Galba- who had dismissed the Batavians who guarded the Eagle King. It all makes perfect sense. If Vorenus had enslaved the Cananefate, a Friend and Ally, then war would erupt along the entire frontier. And in the maelstrom, Civilis and the Batavians would inherit our land and emerge the victor, with Rome allowing it in order to maintain at least one sector in peace. We were to be sacrificed to allay his honor and increase his power, and thus salve his wounded pride. But we upset his plans by winning, so he had to destroy all Roman power in order to salve that injured pride- and we are shedding our blood to give him his victories.”

“We have no choice now, son,” Niall said lowly. “We have killed Romans. They will not forget that lightly. We shall be made to pay.”

“Rutilius is heading to Rome to speak with their Elders and maybe even the Eagle King himself, whoever that may be. He shall testify before them that we have done naught than protect ourselves from Roman aggression- verily we have. Then, if the Eagles come against the Cananefate, we shall know it is for greed and slaves they come, not righteous vengeance. And they shall know it as well. Then the border shall erupt, I think, for there were many Germans across the Rhein watching with eager eyes to what happened here.”

Brinno nodded solemnly. The boy’s voice rang with truth.

* * * * * * *

The following day was spent stripping the Roman corpses and burning the dead. That evening, with the stench of roasted men still heavy in the air, Civilis held a grand council in the camp of the Batavians. It was no surprise that many of the men clustered about him were neither Batavian nor Cananefate nor Frisian, but rather tribesmen from beyond the Rhein.

“Brothers, we have fought well and rid our lands of Roman oppression!” Civilis shouted to the gathered council. “They have taken our soldiers to fight their wars, and stolen our youths for their infernal orgies. No more! Rome was great under Augustus and the Divine Caesar, now it rots from within. The days of the Roman Greatness are past; it is time for a new age- the Age of the Tribes!”

A great cheer erupted from the gathered warriors. Civilis let the cheering die down before extinguishing it.

“Gaul revolted last summer, and was crushed. But not by Roman caligula and gutted by Roman gladii. It was trampled under by Batavian horses and spitted on Batavian lances. Now those lances and horses fight for freedom from oppression. Vitellius levied eight cohorts of our best warriors, then comes and asks for eight more. His governors came among us and took not only warriors in their prime, but boys not even old enough to shave. Shame on them!

“A moon ago they marched on the Cananefate, a tribe plagued by famine and inundation. These warriors were Friends and Allies of Rome, declared so by the Eagle kinglet Germanicus. Yet Vorenus Carnifex, lackey of that pompous prig Vitellius who steals our youth, marched on them with four legions, to enslave them and sell them as toys in Rome. The Cananefate sent them packing.

“Yesterday they marched on us, another Friend and Ally of Rome. They came with their eagles and their swords thirsty for Batavian blood. Today they are ashes and Batavia is free.

“Who will they come for next? The Bructeri? The Marsi? The Tungrians who already live behind the limes of Rome? None of us is safe as long as Vitellius and his lackeys rule Rome. Thus we must push Rome far away. Yesterday we made a good start. Soon we march on Castra Vetera, to finish off those who fled today. Five thousand men hold that fortress, built to hold twelve thousand. After that, we march on Bonna, then Colonia Aggripensi, and then Moguntiacum.

“We Batavians are too small to take on the Empire alone. But we shall not have to. Among us gathered here are chieftains from the Bructeri, the Frisians, the Marsi, the Tencteri, the Chauci, and the Chatti. There is even Ragnar of the Suevii present. Each of these men come as envoys of their tribe. They witnessed our victory from across the river, and today they come to offer alliances and warriors to our quest. This is no longer a war for Batavian freedom or Cananefate vengeance. This is a war to free a united Germania. And we shall prevail. How do I know this? Look there!” he commanded, pointing behind the gathered crowd.

A dark-haired woman stood just inside the firelight. She was tall and slender, and had two braids among the masses of dark hair reaching down her black dress to just below her proud breasts. On long legs, she sauntered in among the crowd, which parted at her approach. Whispered mutterings could be heard as the woman walked, everything from ‘honored seeress’ to ‘evil witch’.



When she stood before Civilis, he reached out a hand, which she accepted. Her own hands were slender and anorexic, but there was a strength in them that surprised Civilis. She stood beside the Batavian prince and addressed the crowd.

“Many of you know me. I am Veleda, the Bructeri prophetess.” Her voice was a husky yet clear one, and she enthralled the gathered warriors instantly. “I have foreseen many things which have since come to pass. And I foresee more- I see Batavians walking proudly among the smoldering ruins of Castra Vetera. I see Gaul breaking away from Rome. I see Germans ruling where once Romans held court, and I see Rome itself falling to German warriors, burning under the horsetail standards. I implore each and every one of you- join Civilis. Together we can make these dreams as true as the Batavian victory yesterday.”

Another great cheer erupted from the crowd, this one pierced as much by fear of the witch as by confidence in her predictions. Veleda has foresee victory, thus it must be so. Civilis let it continue a while, then held out his arms for silence. A hush descended over the crowd.

“In three days we shall be done here,” Civilis announced. “The dead will have been burned, the arms and spoils of war distributed, and our wounded tended. In three days we march on Castra Vetera, and fulfill the prophecy of Veleda. In three days, our march to freedom begins.”

This time there was no stopping the cheering. Civilis lapped up the cheering as a desiccated man does water, not noticing the departure of the Cananefate warriors nor the approach of Brinno and Niall.

“You have great ambitions,” Brinno commented once he had the king’s ear. “We wish you luck.”

“Do you not mean you wish us all luck?” Civilis retorted, confused.

Brinno shook his dark head. “No, Seval,” he replied, using the Germanified version of the Batavian’s name. “We are done with the Romans. They attacked our lands and our people; they were driven off and their soldiers slain. There is no Roman breathing Cananefate air, nor dining at Cananefate tables. They attacked us, we fought them off. End of story.

“What you propose is far more than simple vengeance and defense. The Romans may forgive slaughtering their soldiers in self defense- but they shall never condone the taking of legionary castra nor eviction from Roman land. The Cananefate have no interests east of Batavia or south of the river. We are fishermen and farmers, not conquerors. It is time for us to return home, to rebuild what they have destroyed. Therefore we wish you luck.”

Civilis nodded at the wisdom of the Cananefate king, and the utter and immense lack of forethought. Brinno was a great warlord as evidenced by his planning of the battles, and his men hardy warriors when pushed to it. But he lacked the strength of a true king, of a conqueror. And when the Germanic kingdom is victorious over Rome , the Cananefate will be alone in their lowland marshes, easy pickings for the Germanic warhost. Surely Brinno saw this?

It was clear that he did, and that he was not afraid. Civilis shuddered inside at the intensity of the Cananefate king’s gaze. This man and his brother had led farmers and fishermen to victory over six legions in open battle- they would definitely go down fighting versus anyone foolish enough to offer them battle- be it Roman or Batavian or German. And in going down, they would cause such damage that the victor would be bled white. Both Civilis and Brinno knew that as well.

“May Odin bless you with wisdom, and Donar with strength,” he said at last. The Cananefate were free to go. He watched the reaction of the shorter man to see if the hidden meanings registered.

Brinno nodded. The message was understood, and replied upon. “May Tyr grant you victory in this quest of yours, as he has granted us victory over those who would enslave us.” And do not forget that.

Civilis understood. He did not need those farmers anyway, not with boatloads of warriors from the Dark Forests flowing in like the Rhein. It was time to take the war to the Romans and make them pay for Paullus and the humiliation they inflicted. Brinno was right- he had no cause in that war. But Civilis did. And with Veleda backing him, he would have his war, his victory, and kingship over a realm far greater than just Batavia. The ashes of his brother Paullus shall bathe in Roman blood.

To be continued....


Other chapters in this series:

1- They Come
2- Vengeance at Traiectum
3- Betrayal on the Border
4- Batavia Rises
5- Homeward Bound
6- The Long Road to Castra Vetera
7- Sunrise at Bedriacum
8- And yet, I was once our emperor
9- Midwinter Misery and Madness
10-Prophecies Fulfilled
11- The Little War
12- The Broken Bridge

[This message has been edited by Terikel Grayhair (edited 11-01-2008 @ 08:31 AM).]