CHAPTER XIIII

‘“THIS’LL STOP YOU hissing, you little viper”, was what I awoke to,’ Tiburtius said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. ‘It was followed by a pleading wail that transformed into a spluttering gurgle; I opened my eyes to see Marcellus Acilius, the thick-stripe military tribune of my legion, naked and spewing blood as his tongue was held before him. Tears streamed from his eyes, tears of pain, rage and sorrow, as well as shame for shedding them, for all these emotions must have been going through the young lad’s head as he realised that he would never talk again in the unlikely event that he would live beyond this day. But it was obvious that he would not survive for he was an officer and they were being singled out for special treatment. The lad stared in horror at the needle and twine that had replaced his tongue, now discarded in the mud before him. His head was held back and his jaw clamped shut as his hands, bound behind his back, struggled for their freedom; but, no, he was secure. And it was as a helpless, tongueless victim that he endured the needle passing through his bottom lip and then on into the top one; the twine was pulled tight and knotted before the needle pierced again. Stitch after stitch, each one taut and precise, was applied until the lad’s mouth was sewed up as tight as a wineskin and he struggled to breathe through blood-choked nostrils. They then cut off his testicles.

‘It was in that condition that they took him to the fires.

‘Another young tribune from my legion, Caldus Caelius, in his terror as he watched his castrated colleague writhe in the flames, brought the chain that manacled his wrists down so hard upon his head that his skull cracked open and he died almost instantaneously.

‘It wasn’t until much later that I found out that we were on the top of the hill that they call the Chalk Giant; the very place that we are now. This clearing and the ancient oak is a sacred place in Germanic lore; they had placed all the captured standards about the oak and had built fires at intervals around the clearing’s perimeter; next to each was an altar. Priestesses, shrill and fell, shrieked invocations to the gods of this land as priests despatched victims on the slab, taking their heads to hang from the branches around the clearing’s edge and from the oak at its centre. These were the lucky ones; or, rather, the second luckiest group – the luckiest had been those who had fallen in the four days of battle. For myself I would have taken the knife on the altar had I had a choice of that or the fire. The fire was something that I had heard tell of but had never witnessed. The fire is truly dreadful. They build a wicker cage in the shape of a man and force their victim within. He is then hoist, screaming, on a pulley system until his cage is many feet above the flames, which are then stoked so that the heat builds, not enough to set fire to the wicker, which has been thoroughly soaked in water, but enough to burn the skin. The victim slowly broils, screeching in agony, begging for mercy; but there will be none for why should they be reprieved from being given to the gods in thanks for such a victory? I watched the young lad being hauled into his wicker man, no sound emitting from his sewn-up mouth other than deep growls in his throat as his nostrils bubbled with bloody mucus. Up he went and over the fire he was placed and I watched and watched as his feet slowly melted and the skin up his legs withered and charred; his, well, his …’ Tiburtius paused, shaking his head at the recollection. ‘His … just shrivelled. It was at this point that his agony was such that his desire to scream ripped his lips apart and it was with a jagged mouth that he implored Jupiter to save him.

‘But Jupiter was not there in that dark forest that day; nor will he ever come here. Jupiter is Rome’s god, the god of the city. Here in the north, in the forests of Germania, other gods hold sway and they show no mercy for the Southern Man who prefers ordered vineyards, orchards and fields centred round urban communities with regular markets, temples and courts with officials who’ve the power to tax and to sit in judgement. The gods of Germania don’t understand that way of life, loving, instead, their sons, the sons of All Men, who dwell in freedom in the dark woods, worshipping in groves and telling tales of the forest, glorifying that which to the Southern Man represents nothing but fear.’

‘And it is not only the Germanic people,’ Thumelicatz pointed out, ‘it’s all the people of the north, Britannia included, as you will find out if I help you to get what you’re looking for.’ The sight of the Romans looking uneasily at each other amused him, although he did not let it show; he knew, however, that he had spoken the truth. ‘But enough of the Southern Man’s fear of the forest that we northerners so love; Aius, read of his fear of the fires.’

Aius cleared his throat as if he was trying to put off for as long as possible the reading of the next passage. Eventually he had no option but to commence.

The joy that welled within me grew as each new sacrifice screamed in the fires and each new head was hung from a branch. The sacred oak, at the centre of the clearing, was now festooned with offerings to our gods and the fires sizzled with fat. None of the officers had met their deaths well, above the flames, pleading and screaming with no concern for their dignity; but this suited my intention for I had a mind to keep two of the prisoners for the purposes of this memoir and I needed a way to bind them to me for ever. I called for the two captured Eagle-bearers to be brought before me and enjoyed the sight of these once-proud men kneeling in the mud.

‘You’ve seen our fires and you know what awaits you both, don’t you?’ I said.

They kept their eyes to the ground and did not respond.

‘Don’t you!’ I shouted.

‘I do,’ the Eagle-bearer of the Seventeenth, Marcus Aius, answered; his voice was quiet and he kept his eyes averted.

‘As do I,’ his comrade from the Nineteenth, Gaius Tiburtius, confirmed.

‘And what would you do to avoid that fate?’

They shared a glance.

‘Anything, master,’ Aius said, causing me to sneer at how subservient he had become in just a matter of hours. ‘We lost our honour with our Eagles; we should have died protecting them.’

‘I have no interest in your motives, things of no worth. Just tell me this: if I were to give you a choice between the fires and staying alive to serve me and my family for the rest of your days, sworn never to try to escape, never to kill yourselves, which would you choose?’

Again they shared a glance; this time it was Tiburtius who spoke: ‘We will serve you, master.’

I looked down at them in disgust and then kicked each in the chest so they fell onto their backs in the mud. ‘I’ll tell you what my decision is in due course,’ I said, walking off, knowing perfectly well that I would let them live to make a record of my life and my hatred of their kind.

‘That is always my favourite part,’ Thusnelda commented from the shadows of the tent. ‘Watching a Roman read aloud of his humiliation at the hand of my husband warms my heart for all the pain that Rome has caused me. Things of no worth; how true. Yet, I’ve never known anyone go willingly to the fires and would not like to judge what I would do in the same position. But, be that as it may, it was at this point that I remember joining Erminatz’s story. He had seen me before, as he has mentioned, when I arrived at his father’s house with my father, the traitor Segestes.’ She paused to spit on the ground. ‘I, however, had not seen him, or if I had, I hadn’t noticed him. But victory and power are the greatest aphrodisiacs and when I arrived at this place, with my mother, in the aftermath of the battle to come and beg for my father’s life, I saw him for the first time and it jolted my heart, such was the authority that he emitted in the wake of his victory. He was walking away from two Romans whom he had just kicked to the ground and our eyes met; although I was engaged to another I knew in that moment that I must have him and him alone.

‘I said to my mother: “I will beg Erminatz for my father’s life; I think I can appeal to him in a different way.”

‘“You may well be right, child,” she answered. “Erminatz has as little love for me as he does for Segestes.”

‘Leaving my mother standing just inside the clearing, I approached Erminatz, my heart pounding, and stood before him with my head held high, praying that I wasn’t shaking or showing any other outward sign of crotch-wetting desire; had he asked me to, I would have lain on my back and opened my legs for him then and there amidst the fires and sacrifice. But that was not to be our first conversation. “My lord, Erminatz,” I said, holding his gaze and melting internally in the beauty of his eyes. “I come—”

‘“For your father’s life?” he said, guessing my purpose; his look was intense but at that time I didn’t know, nor did I even dare to hope, that this was because he felt the exact same way as me.

‘“Indeed, my lord,” I replied. “I know that he has tried to betray you and—”

‘He interrupted again, surprising me. “You may have it, take him with you.”

‘I stared at him, astounded for a moment.

‘He laughed and the sound of it blocked out the screams of the men being sacrificed; it was not an unkind laugh but, rather, a joyful one: a laugh that quickened my already racing heart and made me want to sing and dance, even in that place of death. It was music to me and I knew that he would always make me happy if I could only have him and not Adgandestrius to whom I was betrothed. “But you must do something for me in return, Thusnelda,” he added.

‘“Anything,” I replied, meaning it.

‘Again he laughed. “Be careful what you promise, Thusnelda.”

‘I smiled. “I always am.”

‘“Then this is what I wish .” But no, it would be best to hear this from Erminatz’s side; carry on, Aius.’

‘I always am,’ she said.

It was at that moment that I knew she felt the same way and after so much death my whole being was light. ‘Then, Thusnelda, promise me this: keep with your plans until I ask you to change them.’ I stared deep into the wells of blue that had so captivated me and for a moment we shared a conspiratorial smile: she had understood and had made me the happiest of men. I turned and, finding Vulferam, said: ‘Release the traitor, Segestes, into the hands of his daughter.’

Walking away, past the oak at the centre of the clearing, I descended the hill back to the scene of the slaughter for I had one last thing to do as I awaited news from Aldhard. Taking my helmet, I detached the mask and dug a hole in the blood-soaked ground; I would never again hide my barbarian features, as Lucius had joked when he had given it to me. I was now free of Rome and no longer needed to conceal my true feelings for her. I buried Lucius’ gift in the field of Rome’s defeat in order to sever, finally, all ties with the hated invader. I had not avenged my murdered friend and I knew that I would never be able to do so and I prayed to his shade that he would forgive my failing as I covered over the mask. A warmth, growing within me, told me that he understood and I knew that although he did not approve of my achievement he could not but admire the grandness of the gesture.

I smiled to myself at the memory of Lucius as I saw Aldhard approach with four warriors carrying a body between them; my happiness increased because I knew that he had been successful in the task that I had given him. ‘Where did you find him?’

Aldhard looked down at the body, hawked and spat at it. ‘They had tried to bury it under the carcass of a mule.’

‘Kneel it down and pull its arms back,’ I ordered the warriors carrying it as I drew my sword. They let the legs slump to the ground and then pulled the wrists, dragging the arms back so that the corpse knelt with its chest on its knees and its head hanging forward.

With the ingrained anger of years of enforced exile I swung my sword and it sang through the air to sever the head of Publius Quinctilius Varus, the first and last Roman Governor of Germania Magna, the man whose life I had saved. ‘Have it preserved in cedar sap, Aldhard, and then I want you to take it personally to Maroboduus of the Marcomanni; tell him that I sent this in token of good faith. If he will watch over the Danuvius frontier while I do the same with the Rhenus frontier then together we shall keep Germania free; but to stay free we must be united. If we fight amongst ourselves then Rome will take advantage of our disunity and force herself upon us again. Tell him, Aldhard, that what I desire is a united Greater Germania.’

‘With you as its king,’ a scornful voice said from behind me before Aldhard could reply.

‘No, Adgandestrius,’ I responded, turning to face the Chatti king, ‘with whomever we decide to set up over us all as king.’

‘There was no talk of this before; you specifically said that you were not trying to rule over us.’

‘I am not trying to do that, Adgandestrius; what I’m trying to achieve is to keep Germania safe, its culture, its language, its law, its gods, all of it so that there is a Germanic future in conjunction with the Latin one.’

‘But if you were asked to be king of a united Germania you would accept, wouldn’t you?’

I could not deny it and yet I could not admit it; I turned to Aldhard. ‘Go! And meet me in the Harzland in two moons with his answer.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘You see, Erminatz, you have already got people calling you “my lord”,’ Adgandestrius observed as Aldhard went off, carrying Varus’ head by an ear. ‘And when they start doing that it’s just a small step to you actually becoming their lord and that is something that I cannot and will not countenance. We have done our share of the fighting and therefore I’m now taking my warriors home before any of them get the impression that you’re their lord and not me.’ He stared at me with a burning hatred that I returned in full, despising him for his obvious willingness to put personal ambition before the good of our Fatherland and yet understanding it as it was the way of our people and had always been thus.

We held each other’s gaze with such intensity that I almost started when Engilram came up unnoticed and said: ‘Erminatz, there’s news from my people to the south of the Teutoburg Wald: they’ve failed to destroy the Roman garrison at Aliso.’

‘Aliso,’ Thumelicatz mused, staring up at the ceiling and stretching his legs before him. ‘What a double-edged sword that was.’

‘What do you mean?’ the elder brother scoffed. ‘Aliso was the one thing that gave us a modicum of pride during the whole calamity. Lucius Caedicius, the primus pilus of the Eighteenth Legion who had been put in command of the garrison of Aliso on the River Lupia, defied your father and eventually got his people out of Germania. That is surely a single-edged sword, one that cuts only Arminius.’

Thumelicatz muttered something to his slaves before turning back to his Roman guests. ‘You’re right on the face of it, Roman: Caedicius did save his garrison as well as many of the Roman civilians who had sought shelter with it. And yes, it could be seen to be a blow for my father’s prestige, but it was one that he was actually quite grateful for because it bought him time and gave him an excuse that politically he desperately needed.’

‘An excuse?’ the younger brother exclaimed. ‘What did he need an excuse for as far as his countrymen were concerned?’

‘That is what we shall see in this next passage. Tiburtius, from where I just told you.’

It was exactly one whole moon since I had struck Varus’ head from his shoulders and my Cherusci and the Bructeri had been encamped around the wooden walls of Aliso for twenty of those days. Despite my pleading with them to stay and finish completely what we had started, the other tribes had dispersed to their homelands taking with them the plunder they had earned and the trophies that we had captured, amongst them the three Eagles and the three legion emblems that I had allotted to the tribes in secret, along with the cohort standards, so that none knew what the others had received.

The weather had relented and grown milder but there were still enough rain bursts to make our billets less than comfortable. The total strength of the two tribes was less than four thousand, for many of the warriors had returned to their families, content with the victory they had achieved and ready to boast of their part in it around the fires as the nights drew in.

With such depleted numbers we had tried many assaults on the walls but each had been as unsuccessful as the last. It was as I was contemplating the reason for the failure of the latest attack that screaming erupted from within the fortress, before, a few moments later, the gates opened and a group of thirty or so warriors were herded out, wailing and holding their arms in the air showing the pitch-daubed stumps that now adorned them in place of hands. On they ran, past the lines of Roman heads impaled on stakes, reminders to the besieged of what awaited them, and into our camp, staring in horror at the mutilations that would blight the remainder of their lives.

After their stumps had been bound and the trauma they had endured had diminished enough so that they were capable of coherent speech my father and I questioned them as to the state of things within the Roman garrison.

‘They have food enough to hold out until the relief force arrives,’ the eldest of the group told me, unable to tear his eyes from the horror at the end of his arms. ‘Caedicius, the commander, took us around the storerooms to show us how well stocked they were with grain, salted pork and cabbage in addition to a well that produces plenty of fresh water.’

‘How’s their morale?’ I asked.

‘Good; they aren’t hungry, they have women and they’ve kept their discipline. Their talk is of the relief force, which they say is imminent; no one is despairing or planning for death and even the score or so of fugitives that made it out of the Teutoburg Wald are in reasonable spirits, especially after Caedicius allowed them to wield the cleavers that took our hands in vengeance for their fallen comrades.’

My father looked at me, concerned. ‘If they get help then they’d have a fair chance of making it back to the Rhenus.’

I contemplated the point for a few moments. ‘Would that be such a bad thing?’

‘It would give them a small measure of victory after such a heavy defeat.’

‘I know; would that be such a bad thing?’

He frowned, not understanding my train of thought.

‘I mean, if they feel that they have salvaged some honour, however small, they may be less inclined to come straight back to try to avenge Varus, especially after the survivors start telling their tales of defeat in the Teutoburg Wald. They’re very superstitious, the Romans, and they are not enamoured of forests; the fear of them will grow as the tales of our savagery get exaggerated in the retelling. It may well buy us some time before the inevitable attempt at retribution; time to unite and organise ourselves.’

‘Are you suggesting that we let them go?’

‘I’m suggesting that when the relief force arrives we use it to our advantage for that reason and for another: they will probably come in sufficient strength to fend us and the Bructeri off, so why waste good men’s lives trying to stop the inevitable? If I had been able to keep the alliance together then it would be a different story: we could have withdrawn and then fallen upon them on their way back to the Rhenus just as we did with Varus; but now I can use this reverse as an example of what happens if every tribe just thinks about its own interests. This could be good for us, Father, very good indeed.’

And so we left a token force besieging the fortress and withdrew a mile or so west and waited for the Romans to make their move.

It was not a long wait. The weather once again played its part in my story in the form of another display of the Thunderer’s power. The night sky cracked with the beating of Donar’s hammer and rain fell in a curtain thicker than at any time in the previous month. Men hunkered down under whatever shelter they could find and waited for the God’s wrath to abate. Such was the intensity of the storm that it was not until the third outpost was passed that the Roman escape was noticed; they had crept out under the cover of the weather. I offered a prayer of thanks to the Thunderer and the promise of some Roman blood for providing me with a way of letting the garrison go without their suspecting it. I roused my warriors and they began to work themselves up into a battle frenzy as the ranks of legionaries marched on, with the civilians in their midst, covered by the filthy night. And then we heard horns in the distance sounding the signal for a double-quick march, the sound of the relief force approaching. As the end of the escaping column left the fortress I allowed my men to tear at it but only enough for Caedicius to think that he’d had a narrow escape and that had it not been for the relief force’s timely arrival he would not have made it out at all. After we had reaped a hundred lives or so I slowly pulled my men back so that we lost contact and the Romans disappeared west into the downpour. That the horns sounding the relief force’s arrival were in fact the garrison’s own horns playing a clever ruse was something that I didn’t find out until later and it added to my enjoyment of the trick, as Caedicius would have genuinely felt that he had outwitted me and so never for one moment would he have thought that it was him who had been made a fool of.

With the departure of Caedicius and his garrison, the last living free Roman left our land and it was time for me to prepare for what I knew would come; I hadn’t spent all those years amongst the Romans without getting to know them: vengeance would come as sure as death follows life. The questions were: how long would we have to wait and, when it did come, how would we resist it?

It was time for us to decide how we would use our freedom: fighting amongst ourselves or preparing to repulse Rome when she came for revenge. It was with these questions going through my mind that I disbanded my army and returned to the Harzland to await Aldhard and his message from Maroboduus; he arrived two days after my return and his news did not bode well for the future of Germania.

‘Maroboduus seems to think that he can use Varus’ defeat to gain a better deal with Rome,’ Aldhard told me as we sat, shortly after his arrival, at board in my longhouse, next to a blazing fire; he drained his horn of ale and refilled it. Covered in the dirt of travel he had come direct from the lands of the Marcomanni and had refused a chance to clean himself up before imparting his news.

I cut a hunk from a smoked cheese and passed it to him. ‘By promising not to raid across the Danuvius whilst Rome strikes over the Rhenus?’

Aldhard bit into his cheese and asked through a full mouth: ‘How did you know?’

‘Because it’s what I would’ve done if I were him and were thinking just about my position and not about Germania as a whole. Rome would very happily sign a peace treaty with him now on extremely good terms – he probably won’t even have to pay any tribute at all – in order that they can release a couple of legions from the Danuvius garrison to come north to join the Rhenus legions when they come for their revenge.’

‘That’s exactly what he’s negotiating at the moment with Tiberius; he’s sent Varus’ head on to Augustus in Rome to show his good faith and his disapproval of your actions. I was surprised to be allowed to live, so keen he seems to be at becoming Rome’s best friend.’

‘For the time being. As soon as Rome’s attention is on us here in the north he’ll allow his people to raid for cattle and slaves across the river. I was expecting better of him: I was hoping for an alliance or at the very least a promise to keep the Danuvius legions busy for the next few years.’ I slammed the palm of my hand down onto the table. ‘The conniving bastard!’

‘You said it was what you would have done in the circumstances.’

‘Would have done; it’s what any of the kings of any of the tribes would have done before we’d had such a total victory; but now with the Fatherland free of the invader surely it would be better to ensure that it stays free, rather than making it easier for Rome to come back in. It’s the short-sightedness of Maroboduus’ policy that angers me: if Rome can retake the lands up to the Albis then his lands in Bojohaemum will also be threatened.’

‘So what do we do? Send an embassy to him and hope to change his mind?’

‘It’ll be too late for that; the treaty would have been negotiated by now and will probably be signed in the spring.’ I paused for thought, pouring myself and Aldhard more ale from the jug. ‘I suppose that what this does tell us is there will be no punitive raid next year.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘If the treaty isn’t signed until next spring at the earliest, then they won’t be able to risk moving any of the garrison legions until the summer, which would mean that they wouldn’t be on the Rhenus until autumn; too late for a campaign next year. Perhaps Maroboduus has done us a favour after all by allowing Rome to gather her strength before she attacks us; gathering takes time and that time we can use to prepare ourselves. Have messages sent to all the kings of the north inviting them to the Kalk Riese on midsummer’s day next year; there we shall decide our fate.’

But before I met with the kings I had some …

‘The perennial problem of the Germanic peoples,’ Thumelicatz said, cutting Tiburtius off. ‘The inability to cooperate. Your capacity to do so is what makes you Romans so formidable. It’s worth remembering that you are made up of Romans, Etruscans, Campanians, Samnites …’

‘Sabines,’ the younger brother added.

‘Indeed. And many more tribes from Italia and yet the world sees only Romans.’

‘We fought many wars to enable that to come about,’ the elder brother pointed out.

‘True, but one hundred and thirty years ago your Latin allies fought a war against you for the right to have your citizenship, to be like you; imagine: fighting your enemy in order to be assimilated by him! I can’t picture the Chatti fighting the Cherusci for the honour of becoming a part of our tribe. To unite the tribes, so that we would think of ourselves as All Men, was my father’s dream and he died knowing that was an impossible goal; and I have learnt from him the sad truth of the matter and do not share that dream.’ He turned to Thusnelda. ‘But I’ve interrupted just before your part of the story, Mother; I apologise. Tiburtius, continue from where you left off.’

But before I met with the kings I had some unfinished business to take care of.

It was only natural, as kin to Segestes, that my father and I should be present at the wedding ceremony of his daughter, no matter what had passed between us; so when Adgandestrius came to the Harzland to claim his bride, the following spring, just before the time of the Ice Gods, I made sure that I was there. What I planned was audacious in the extreme, another grand gesture that Lucius would have been proud of and it would confirm Adgandestrius and Segestes as my enemies for ever.

Adgandestrius rode into the Harzland with two hundred of his warriors; they were in a celebratory mood with garlands tied to their spear tips and helms and adorning their horses’ bridles. Our people cheered them in as they climbed deeper into the range of hills that was the heart of the Cherusci homeland and all seemed to be well between the two tribes united in victory over Rome. The last time the Chatti had come this way in such great numbers was the raid on our people the year before my return; now they came in friendship – or so they thought.

Adgandestrius, as was his due as king of the Chatti, was received by my father and was feasted in his longhouse along with his retinue; because of our mutual antipathy we were seated at different ends of the high table and managed only to exchange a brief nod of acknowledgement throughout the night. The following afternoon, after spending the morning sleeping off the inevitable hangover, Adgandestrius led his men southeast to Segestes’ settlement; my father and I followed, along with our households, a couple of hours behind.

Now, I had not seen Segestes since Thusnelda had begged for his release in the clearing at the summit of the Kalk Riese; he had refused all offers of a reconciliation from my father and uncle, Inguiomer, throwing their generosity back in their faces despite the fact that it was him who had tried to betray us to Varus and would have happily seen us executed. He had not even invited us to the wedding, a fact that expressed itself in his greeting of my father.

‘You have a nerve to show up at the wedding of my daughter!’ Segestes shouted as he saw us riding through the gates of his settlement.

My father waited until he had dismounted before replying: ‘As king of the Cherusci, I have a right to go where I please in this land. And do you know why that is, Segestes?’

My father’s cousin scowled, but could not deny the truth of what my father had implied. ‘Because it is now free of the Romans?’

‘Bravo, Cousin; but had you had your way, my son would have been crucified as a traitor to Rome and we would still be a province. But today we shall put all of that behind us and celebrate.’ He stood in front of Segestes and opened his arms to him.

There was complete silence around the compound as the two men regarded one another.

Grudgingly, Segestes moved forward and submitted himself to his cousin’s embrace; his people and ours cheered as they thumped each other on the back. Inguiomer too embraced the errant cousin and then it was my turn. I slipped from my horse and approached the man who had tried to betray me to Varus just a few months ago.

Segestes backed away as I neared him. ‘This I cannot do.’

I smiled, cold and with narrowed eyes. ‘Are you afraid that your friends in Rome may hear of your embracing the architect of their defeat?’

‘You are not welcome here, Erminatz; for whatever reasons you might wish to think of you are not welcome at the marriage of my daughter.’

‘Don’t concern yourself on that account, Segestes; I’ll not be here for the wedding. I shall take some refreshment and then leave, seeing as my reception has been less than courteous. You have not grown so ill-mannered as to refuse food and drink to a traveller, have you?’

The look on his face suggested that he would have liked to have refused me but could not be seen to do so before so many people. ‘Take what you wish and then leave.’

‘Thank you for that kind offer, Segestes; I shall take full advantage of it, you can be assured.’

The feast had been set up outside Segestes’ longhouse, on many tables surrounding the oak at the centre of the settlement; its branches had been decorated with ribbons that hung to the ground and smoke from the fire pits, roasting game whole, swirled up about it. Everywhere the atmosphere was that of a holiday: children played in the warm sun as their parents sat around drinking, talking and laughing, waiting for the food to be ready and the feast to begin – the ceremony would only take place once all had eaten and drunk their fill so that the couple would not have to retire to the marriage bed on an empty stomach. Warriors competed in tests of strength, wrestling or lifting huge stones over their heads, whilst slaves went to and fro preparing the fare for their betters. A group of musicians with pipes and lyres struck up a merry tune and the youth of the village began a series of complicated dance steps beneath the oak whilst holding onto the ribbons flowing from it.

I walked around, savouring this Germanic idyll, reflecting on how I was just about to ruin it and set myself on a path that would mean that there could never be friendship between the Chatti and the Cherusci again; however, seeing as that friendship was also impossible whilst Adgandestrius remained alive it seemed to me that there was nothing to lose and everything to gain in what I planned.

And so I walked into Segestes’ longhouse.

Thumelicatz held up his hand. ‘Mother, I think it would be appropriate for you to continue, for this is your entrance.’

Thusnelda came forward from the shadow. ‘I remember it so well; I was being dressed by my mother and the better-born maidens of the settlement at the far end of my father’s longhouse. My spirits were low as there was only a matter of hours before the ceremony would take place and it looked as if, despite what he had said on the Kalk Riese, Erminatz was not going to be able to change my plans. I fidgeted as my ladies tried to fasten my dress and plait my hair, threading flowers through the tresses; and then a shadow appeared in the doorway and my heart leapt, Erminatz had come for me. My mother shouted at him to leave, no men were allowed in the longhouse as the bride was being readied, and he did so without saying a word; but his very presence was enough for me to know what he expected of me.

‘I now rushed, helping to tie my girdle and stepping into my slippers, so eager was I to put the mean-spirited Adgandestrius behind me. My father had arranged the marriage in the hope that he could persuade the Chatti into a far more pro-Roman policy, one I would be ashamed of and ashamed to have been a tool in bringing it about. How could he think that my virginity could be used to buy our subjugation? But he was always a weak man who worshipped strength in others because he could find little in himself.

‘Happy with my appearance, I almost skipped outside to find that the feast was ready and my father was waiting for me.

‘“Today you will make me proud,” he said, stepping back and admiring my hair.

‘“I hope so, Father,” I replied and I really meant it for I did hope that he would someday understand that I did the right thing.

‘I took his arm and he led me to the table of honour at the head of the feast. Here he placed me to his left whilst Adgandestrius took the seat to his right. We sat and broke bread and my father proposed many toasts to us and our happiness, but if he really was concerned about that then perhaps he should have consulted me in my choice for a husband. After many horns had been drunk, my father suddenly stared ahead of him and then pointed at Erminatz who was seated far down the tables. “What are you still doing here?” he roared, getting to his feet and spilling his drinking horn over his lap. “I thought you said you would leave after you had taken some refreshment.”

‘Erminatz looked unperturbed at this outburst; all conversation stopped and he became the centre of attention. He deliberately finished the mouthful that he was chewing and then washed it down with a long, slow slug of ale. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand he stood, stepping back over the bench, and said: “I still haven’t finished taking my refreshment, Segestes, but seeing as you seem so anxious for me to be gone I shall show more grace than you have in throwing me out, by complying with your wishes. However, there is one more piece of refreshment that I wish to take.” He raised an arm and a rider appeared leading a horse. As it drew near, Erminatz jumped into the empty saddle and kicked the horse forward in a walk to come to a stop in front of the high table.

‘Erminatz looked down at Adgandestrius and said: “Tell me, how would it feel for your woman to always be thinking of another each time you bed her?”

‘Adgandestrius returned the look, hatred in his eyes. “You should know, Erminatz.”

‘He replied: “I don’t; but I am going to do you a favour and ensure that you will never have that humiliation; although why I should help you is beyond me.” With a quick glance in my direction, Erminatz eased his horse side-on to the table.

‘I reacted immediately, pushing myself up from my seat and clambering onto the table. “I choose Erminatz!” I shouted as I leapt behind him, my legs astride the mount and my arms about his waist. “Let no one here say that I did not go of my own volition.”

‘My love swung his horse around as uproar broke out; he pushed it into a gallop with Aldhard, the second rider, following us. Before anyone could react we were through the gates and heading like the wind to the northwest. I held onto the man to whom I planned to dedicate the rest of my life and laughed at his audacity; and he laughed too for we were together for the first time and hoped that it would be this way for ever.

‘However, we were not bargaining for the wickedness of kin.’