The Wald (38 page)

Greetings and introductions went on around the ashes from one of the last night’s fires.  A servant
, captured by the Cheruscans from a wandering tribe originally from the plains far to the west, went about rekindling it.  He was ignored by everyone.

“And so you come to sue for peace,” said Kolman.

“I do, though I do not have authority to accept or dictate terms,” said Septimus.

“You don’t have authority to dictate anything,” interrupted Ermin.

Septimus recognized him as the boy on the horse from the near disaster at the narrow pass.  He wanted to break the boy’s nose and much worse for killing Manilius but he held his emotions in check.  “A fair assessment, Ermin.  I merely meant that I am more of a messenger and guard.  I bring you news that Tiberius wishes to start this season off with peace within Germania.  I am to serve as your guard as we travel to the general’s summer camp.  I came for Adalbern, but I know the general will be pleased if I am able to bring a delegation from all the tribes represented here today.”

“Of course he would,” snapped Berengar.  “By bringing us all in he can have us executed
. Then he’s removed the head of the serpent.”

Septimus thought the image was appropriate
, given his vision at the Jupiter Column the previous year.  “No, Berengar son of Adalbern, you are mistaken.  I have assurances from Tiberius that your safety is guaranteed.  I have fought under both Drusus and Tiberius.  And though I had the opportunity to know Drusus better, if his brother carries even a portion of the honor of Drusus, you can have my word as well that whoever rides away with me will be safe.”

Kolman spoke.  “Stigr, tell the man we talk amongst ourselves for a moment.  Now then, we must take this chance at peace.  The omen came as Segimer suggested it would.  We will have an opportunity to raise crops and feed our families again.”

“At least raise crops for the Romans,” said Segimer sadly.

“It was your idea, Segimer.
The horse was your idea,” reminded Kolman.

“And it’s a powerful sign,” agreed Segimer, seemingly resigned to riding away with Septimus for the grand meeting.

Soon the Cattans voiced their support for at least listening to Tiberius.  They were tired of an endless war where they seemed to be eternally on the losing side.  The young nobles, Ermin and Berengar, spoke as one in opposition, but they were without the respect won by years of service and loss like their elders.  They also argued against the sign of the white horse to which they agreed only the night before.  They were young.  Their fires could not be quenched.

“And what do you say, Stigr?” asked Adalbern, when the agreement to sue for peace was already certain.  “Why do you serve this man?  Should we take the offer?”

Stigr told them his story of capture.  He told them how he had been in the bowels and temples of Rome.  They scoffed openly when he told them of columns formed by men’s hands that were white and extended into the sky.  He conveyed story after story of the wonders he had seen and experienced firsthand.  Stigr even told them that he had seen hundreds of men and women with dark skin, not like the skin on a man after a summer of work, but true walnut-colored skin.  Men from all the tribes marveled at the thought.  He ended by saying, “So, yes, you should take the offer the centurion gives.  I serve him today, but I’ve served the commander Tiberius for the past year.  I intend to return to that role when we return to camp.”

“Why not stay here?  Why not kill the centurion and stay amongst friends, or return home to your Chaucian women?” asked Ermin.

“Because, young Ermin,” gravely answered Stigr, “I’ve seen where they train and how they kill.  This man’s army cannot be eradicated.  Better to be a slave and with them, than in the wald against them.”

“And what of freedom?” asked Ermin.

Stigr thought for a moment.  “I am not free, but nor are you, trapped as you are in the wald.”

“I will always be free.  Alive or dead, I’ll be free,” said Ermin proudly raising his chin.

Despite the passions of Berengar and Ermin, the tribesmen put it to a voice vote.  Each noble had a chance to speak his mind.  Each common man had a vote, but in the end, the villages had already selected who would be their leaders in times of war:  Segimer for the numerous Cheruscan clans and their Suebian allies, Adalbern for the Sugambrians, and a young Cattan noble for his people.

“Peace,” said Segimer, simply.  Kolman tapped his friend’s shoulder to reassure him in the decision.  Ermin stormed off deeper into the gorge
, hacking moss off trees with Kolman’s sword in anger.

“Peace,” said the Cattan.

Everyone now looked to the old warlord of the Sugambrians.  Adalbern hadn’t moved from his seat on the log even though his rear had long been soaked.  At long last he answered.  “I’ll not pick a fight with Rome on my own, especially now that my people are hungry.”  Stigr and the others nodded their approval.  “But,” Adalbern held up a giant hand, “I’ll not sue for peace with you.  Tell the centurion that he may take these other leaders with him, but I’ll simply take my men and ride home.  Tiberius may come to me another time so that I’ll give him my terms of peace.”

Berengar smiled at his father’s strength in the face of pressure.  Kolman looked at the Sugambrian delegation with distaste.  Adalbern returned his look with a crazed stare
punctuated with hatred.  Stigr just looked at them all with uncertainty.  “Go on; tell the man what we’ve said.”

Stigr interpreted their decisions.  Septimus nodded respectfully around the circle as Stigr told him.  When the centurion faced Adalbern, he said, “Lord Adalbern, you and your son are a peculiar force in battle.  I have faced you both, though you may not recall.  I pray to my gods that I’ll not face either of you again.  In my home we sometimes drink wine to celebrate an agreement.  Though I wish yours was different, if you have a similar custom, I propose that we do that now.”

Adalbern smiled at the thought of ale in the morning.  Soon the supply was tapped and the men all lifted their simple wooden mugs into the sky.  Each of the three sides – Septimus for Rome, Segimer for those actively pursuing peace, and Adalbern for the Sugambrians – drank with a hearty smile, though as the bitter piss ran down their throats, none knew exactly what would come from the talks with Tiberius in the days to come.

. . .

The envoys had long since left the cool valley behind them.  So, too, had they left the summer camp of the invading legions behind.

Tiberius chose not to speak with them when they arrived at the camp after just a two day ride.  It was worrisome at first, but they were not bound or restrained in anyway, even being led through the camp on a tour by the centurion, Septimus.  Ermin had come with his father and Kolman to represent the interests of his Cheruscan people and even he had to admit that he liked
the Roman officer who seemed to take them on as part of his corps.  He vacated his tent to allow the Cheruscan leaders a place to sleep.  They agreed, though when they slept away from home on the hunt or at war in the wald they never had such luxuries.

Three days they meandered around fully armed.  Some legionaries
were visibly offended at their presence. But the famous system of Roman discipline played itself out perfectly, and never once were they molested.

On the third day Stigr came to them from his master Tiberius to inform them that
news came they would have an audience with Emperor Augustus himself.  He spoke the words in breathless wonder that such an honor could ever be bestowed upon simple tribesmen from the forest.  To Segimer and his son, Ermin, it only made sense that since they were the leaders of their people, they should negotiate with the leader of their opponent’s people.

The meeting was to take place on the left side of the
Rhenus in Oppidum Ubiorum.  Stigr, along with a slew of conquered slaves from all over the empire, brought the tribesmen’s beasts from the marching fort’s stables.  The tribesmen gathered up their gear and scurried up their horses’ backs.  Ermin and the others then waited unattended at the exit from the camp until long past midday when the general finally emerged with his own troop of horse.

One hundred Roman and auxiliary cavalry rode to the fore of Tiberius.  One hundred rode to his rear.  The tribesmen were instructed by some functionary to follow after the se
cond guard.  It was Tiberius’ way to send a message so they would know their place in the order of the empire.  Then another one hundred horse pulled into the column behind them, effectively trapping the envoys.

Looking worriedly over his shoulder, Ermin asked, “Will they take us out to kill us, father?”

Segimer kept his gaze on the road ahead.  “It seems like an awfully complicated ruse to me.  If they want us dead, they’ve had many opportunities to kill us at their camp before now.”  He rode on while Ermin looked again over his shoulder.  “Besides if they do mean to kill us out here, we can do nothing about it.  Now ride on with your chin high, my son.  Stop looking behind you.”

The boy did as he was instructed.  Eventually, the party crossed the
Rhenus over a large new bridge that carried them directly into the heart of Oppidum Ubiorum.  Ermin had seen the town only once in his short life, before Drusus brought the war to them.  Then it had been but an impressive village with sprawling houses and smoke stacks extending for as many as five blocks.  Then it was merely amazing.  But the new Oppidum Ubiorum was astonishing.  The heavy influence of Rome could be seen in every structure.

The barracks were walled off from the city with bricks painted a brilliant white.  Though he couldn’t see behind the walls, Ermin could tell from their extent that they would house more people in one place than he had ever seen, except when the tribes came together for counsel or war. 
Columned temples with steps – he didn’t recall ever seeing steps before – sat behind long paved squares some distance off the main road leading from the bridge.  It was at that moment that Ermin realized that his horse’s hooves still echoed almost as they had while crossing the bridge.  He looked down.  The main road had been paved with tightly fitted stones all the way from the bridge and off into the distance.  He immediately forgave Stigr for all the horrible thoughts he carried against the man for his supposed traitorous behavior.  If an outpost of Rome that was still in the process of being settled looked thus, how much more amazing must be their capital city?

The waiting began once again.  Augustus had not yet arrived.  Or if he had, the emperor had more pressing matters than to talk with ale-swilling tribesmen.  A young legionary was sent to them with instructions on where to camp.  There would be no equivalent of the man Septimus here to lend him his quarters, so they were sent to sleep in the open
fields west of the town where the former German tribe, the Ubians, now worked for their masters.  Segimer told the man they’d wait across the bridge in a comfortable place in the wald, but the soldier informed the tribal delegations that any attempt to withdraw back across the bridge, no matter the reason, would be viewed by Tiberius as breaking the talks.

Four days they camped.  No food was provided
, so they went into the town to barter with the Ubians.  Every house or hovel told them they would be happy to sell the tribesmen grain or stew in exchange for some of the clinking coins Roman’s loved so much.  Segimer had accumulated a small handful over the years, mostly for their beauty, so he had no concept of their value when he gave them away for food.  He was not, however, so foolish as to not know that some carried more weight than others.  Segimer simply bartered for the coins the way he would have if they were chickens or peas.  When an Ubian’s eyes showed that he really favored one over the other, then that coin quickly became Segimer’s favorite too.

Ermin had brought in two rabbits using a small bow he had made while bored
om set in.  He and his father shared the quarry with the Cattans and Suebians, so no one received too much, but everyone was at least able to taste meat.

At last the same junior legionary came to retrieve them for their meetin
g.  One of the Cattan delegates was urinating in a nearby copse of trees.  When his fellow tribesmen asked to wait for his return, the soldier shouted, “The emperor does not wait on the bladder of any man, let alone filth from the forest.  If you do not come now, I’ll inform my commanders that you’ve decided to break the truce.  War will commence at once.”

The men cursed and grumbled but went along with the man on foot.  He led them on a twisting path through the village toward the military barracks.  At the front gate of the immense white brick structure was the first time they were asked to disarm.  Again, the tribesmen grumbled, chief among them Ermin.  “What will a half dozen men do in here against thousands?” he asked.  Kolman cuffed the boy on the back of his head as his answer.

Segimer sighed while saying, “I fear that even if we leave these talks with our lives, our friend Adalbern was right to not come.  I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Following some distance behind their guide now
, Kolman answered.  “Segimer, Adalbern is an old, angry fool.  He has no ability to negotiate a peace sitting back in his hovel.”

Ermin spoke up.  “And, Kolman, we’ve no basis for our negotiati
ons either with our own weapons and our entire armies off in the distance.”