Harry Turtledove - Give me back my Legions! Страница 14

“Segestes would not walk as far as he could piss to listen to Arminius.” Masua paused, considering. “Segestes might walk far enough to piss on Arminius’ corpse. He might not even do that.”

In spite of himself, Varus had to smile. But he also had to ask an important question: “In that case, how do you know what Arminius is supposed to be saying? How does Segestes know?”

“Everyone knows what Arminius is saying,” Masua replied, as if to a half-witted child. Varus thought an oafish barbarian had no business taking that tone with him. No matter what he thought, the oafish barbarian went on, “Arminius makes no secret of it. Like I tell you, he goes up and down in Germany. He says what he says to anyone who will hear him. Many men do - too many men.”

“I have met Arminius. He did not seem anti-Roman then,” Varus said.

Masua snorted. “He would not. He was in your power. You could have killed him. You should have.”

“He fought as a Roman auxiliary. He is a Roman citizen. He has been made a member of the Equestrian Order, a rare and important honor for one who was not born to our people.” For a barbarian, he thought.

“He is a viper. If you clutch him to you like a woman, he will bite you in the balls,” Masua said.

“Segestes sent you to me,” Quinctilius Varus said. The German nodded. Varus went on, “Segestes is Arminius’ enemy.”

“Of course he is,” Masua broke in. “Would you not be, if Arminius carried off your daughter?”

If Arminius hadn’t carry Thusnelda off, Varus was convinced she would have done more to try to get away on her own. A Roman woman certainly would have. No, the truth was that she preferred Arminius to the middle-aged man to whom her father had tried betrothing her in-stead. Segestes might not - didn’t - like that, which made it no less true.

No point explaining any of that to Masua, who naturally saw things his patron’s way. Instead, Varus said, “Segestes naturally wants me to believe bad things about Arminius.”

“Yes, indeed.” Masua didn’t even try to deny it. “He wants you to believe them because they are true. And Segestes, remember, is a Roman citizen, too.”

“The enmity comes first, I think.” Varus liked Arminius and found Segestes tedious: almost a character out of an old comedy. “Without more proof than you have given me, I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“Arminius will give you proof,” Masua said. “See how you like that.”

Varus’ face froze. “I have no doubt that you have now conveyed to me everything your principal imparted to you. That being so, you are excused. Please convey my respects to Segestes.”

Even a lout like Masua couldn’t mistake his meaning there. Get out of my sight, and don’t ever let we see you again - that was what it came down to. The German got to his feet. That meant he looked down at - looked down on - Varus. “I go. You would have done better to heed me. I will tell Segestes you are too blind to listen, too deaf to see.”

He turned his back. The cloak made him seem even more bearish from behind than from before. He should have gone through polite formulas of leave taking. Arminius would have - Varus was sure of that. Masua didn’t bother. Varus didn’t demand them of him, either. The Roman governor was still trying to decide whether the German had been foolish or profound or both at once.

Lucius Eggius watched legionaries march and countermarch. If you didn’t keep them working through the winter, they wouldn’t be worth a moldy grain of barley come spring. “I can’t hear you!” Eggius bawled, pitching his voice to carry through the bawdy ballad the soldiers were singing.

They made more noise yet. The song bragged about the havoc Varus would make in Germany and among the blond German women. As far as Eggius knew, the general was pretty moderate when it came to wenching. Maybe the legionaries knew that, too. It didn’t matter one way or the other. You needed a good, bouncy song to keep you picking them up and laying them down. The tune for this one went back to Julius Caesar’s day. Eggius had heard some of the old words when he was new-come to

the army. They were raunchy, too.

The men divided in half and went at one another with pointless spears and wooden swords. You couldn’t get killed in drills like those, not unless you were mighty unlucky. But you could get knocked around pretty well. A broken arm, a banged knee, a sprained ankle, assorted bruises and cuts . . . about what you’d expect from a good afternoon’s workout.

Everyone seemed spirited enough in the mock combat. That wasn’t what bothered Eggius about it. As the surgeons tended to men who’d got hurt, he said, “The trouble with this is, the Germans don’t fight the way we do.”

“Well, you can’t expect us to fight like Germans,” another officer said. “Then our men who were aping the barbarians would learn all the wrong things.”

“I suppose so,” Eggius said, “but now our men who are fighting as Romans are learning all the wrong things.”

“No, they’re not,” the other man insisted. “They’re fighting the way we’re supposed to fight, the way we’ve always fought.”

“Yes, but they’re not fighting the enemies we’re going to tight, Ceionius,” Lucius Eggius said. “A defense that works fine against a Roman with a scutum and a gladius will leave you shorter by a head if you go up against a German and his whacking great slashing sword.”

“As long as we fight the way we’re supposed to, the other buggers can do whatever the demon they want,” Ceionius said. “We’ll beat ‘em. We always have - we’re Romans. I expect we always will.”

Eggius started to say something pungent. Then he hesitated. No doubt the other fellow was a fool. But he was a fool who spouted stuff they tried to ram clown your throat every day of the month. Best to go at him with care. “All I can tell you is that we’ve been screwing around here for twenty years, and we aren’t much closer to putting them into the yoke than we were when we started.”

“Oh, I think you’re wrong,” Ceionius said. “We’re wearing them down a little at a time. They have a lot of savage customs to unlearn -

“Like killing Roman soldiers by the wagonload,” Eggius said dryly.

The other Roman looked pained. “They’re holding markets. Those will turn into towns one day,” he said. “They’re holding assemblies, some of them with men from more than one tribe coming together.”

“So they can plot against us better,” Eggius said. “Have you heard what that one bastard who used to be an auxiliary is doing? Going all over everywhere and trying to tire up all the barbarians against us at once.”

“I’ve heard it. I don’t believe it.” Pointedly, Ceionius added, “His Excellency the governor doesn’t believe it, either.”

So there, Eggius thought. If Varus didn’t believe something, it didn’t behoove any of his officers to believe it. Which, most of the time, was all very well, but what if something Varus didn’t believe turned out to be true? Well, in that case we’ve got a problem.

“I hear the fellow who accused this German has a family squabble with him,” Ceionius said in lofty tones.

“Yeah, I heard that, too. So what?” Eggius said. “Suppose somebody ran off with jour daughter. Would you give him a big kiss? Or would you give him one where it’d do the most good?” He cupped his hands over his privates.

“Well, of course I’d pay back an enemy as soon as I saw the chance,” the other officer replied. “But that’s the point. Because they’re enemies, we can’t trust anything the one barbarian says about the other.”

“Segestes wouldn’t lie about something that big. Even in the wintertime, we’ve got people in Germany,” Lucius Eggius said. “We can get a pretty good notion of who’s trying to pull a fast one. Did the governor ask any of our people about that?”

“Not so far as I know. He doesn’t think it’s necessary,” Ceionius said.

Eggius’ sigh made fog spring forth from his mouth and nose.

“Here’s hoping he knows what he’s thinking about.”

Segestes clasped Masua’s hand when the younger German came back to his steading. “Welcome! Welcome, by the gods!” Segestes said. “Come in. Rest yourself. I hope your journey went well?”

“I’m here again.” Masua’s voice was harsh and flat. A slave hurried up with a mug of beer. Masua nodded thanks, took it, and drained half of it at one long pull. After sucking foam out of his mustache, he said, “Varus wouldn’t believe me - wouldn’t believe you. And Arminius’ friends tried to waylay me on the way home, but I gave them the slip.” He spoke with somber pride.

“Why wouldn’t the Roman believe you?” Segestes scratched his head, trying to fathom that. “Have evil spirits stolen his wits?”

“He wouldn’t believe you about Thusnelda, either.” His sworn man got to the bottom of the mug (Roman work, bought from a trader coming out of Gaul) in a hurry. The slave looked at Segestes, who nodded. The slave took the mug from Masua and carried it away to refill it.

“No, he wouldn’t.” The thought of Thusnelda lying in Arminius’ arms still filled Segestes with rage. He made himself push that rage aside, even though it was the heaviest burden he’d ever set himself against. “Not believing me there is one thing. If a man steals a woman, it’s a family affair. It is important to the people involved and to their friends. But if a man goes through Germany calling for a rising against the Romans . . . How can Varus not believe that?”

“He does not believe Arminius would ever do such a wicked thing.” By the expression on Masua’s face, he might have been smelling bad meat. The slave came back with the freshened mug. Again, Masua drank eagerly. He might have been trying to get the taste of bad meat out of his mouth, too.

“Ha!” Segestes said, a noise that was anything but the laugh it sounded like. “Arminius will do anything he thinks he can get away with. And we know what he thinks of Rome, and of Roman rule in Germany.”

“We do, yes. This Quinctilius Varus, he will not see it.” Masua sounded disgusted, for which Segestes could hardly blame him.

“Strange. He does not seem to be a stupid man,” Segestes said. “The Roman king, this Augustus whose face is on their coins, would not send a stupid man to do such an important job as this.”

“He is stupid enough. Otherwise, he would hearken to you.” As a sworn man should be, Masua was loyal.

Segestes scratched his chin. “Have you ever known a man who can-not tell red from green? There they are, plain as can be in your eyes, but they look the same to him.”

Masua nodded. “Yes, a man on the next farm over was like that when I was growing up. His belly griped him all the time, because he would eat berries and apples before they got ripe. But for that, he was a fine fellow. He was bold in the fight - I remember that.”

“Good for him,” Segestes said. A German who wasn’t bold in the fight wasn’t a man, not in the eyes of his tribesmen. The chieftain came back to the point at hand: “I think this is what’s wrong with Varus. When he looks at Arminius, he can’t see what is plain to everyone else.”

“It could he so,” Masua said after some thought. “Arminius will gripe his belly it he isn’t careful, though or even if he is.”

“Yes. He will.” Segestes remembered something else his retainer had said. “His men tried to ambush you?”

“They did.” Masua’s big head went up and down. “One of them showed himself too soon, though. It was early morning, and foggy - maybe he thought I would not see him. But I did. and I went back to the steading where I’d passed the night. The men there are your friends they told me of another way east. Next morning, one of those men started up the path I’d taken the day before. He was near my size. about my coloring, and he had on a cloak much like mine. Meanwhile. I used the side way they showed me. The hope was that the ambushers would think the local man was me, and so it proved. I pray the gods let him get back to his steading safe.”

“May it be so,” Segestes said, “Good to know I do still have friends here and there. With Arminius making such a racket. It’s hard to be sure these days.”

“That he witch.” Masua scowled. “He has bespelled the Roman governor. I don’t know how, but he has.”

“Oh, I know how.” Segestes sighed. The fire had died down to embers, and his breath smoked. “Arminius is young and handsome and bold. I seem old and grumpy by comparison. He can say he loves Thusnelda. Maybe he even does. But I think his course is a disaster tor Germany. That is why I tried to give the girl to Tudrus, who has belter sense.”

“I would have done the same,” Masua said. “None of my girls is old enough to wed yet, though.”

“I know. Wait till you see how lucky you will remember yourself as being,” Segestes said. “Women cause trouble. They can’t help it. It’s part of what they are.”

“Oh, and men don’t? I have learned something,’ Masua said.

The chieftain laughed, then sighed again and shook his head. “Arminius causes trouble - no doubt about that. Why would he not want to become part of Rome? Such foolishness! Without Rome, where would we get our wine? Our fine pottery? Our own potters make junk good enough to use, but not good enough to look at. Where would we get rich jewelry, or coins, or all kinds of other good things?”

“You don’t need to tell me all this,” Masua said gently. “I already know.”

“Yes, yes. Anyone with sense enough to cover a mustard seed would know,” Segestes said. “But that leaves Arminius out. And it leaves a lot of young Germans out. They don’t think of anything but fighting and killing.”

“Fighting is good. Killing is good,” Masua said. “Of course, when you’re young you don’t think you might get killed instead. That’s not so good.”

“No, it isn’t,” Segestes agreed, his voice dry. “If we rise up against the Romans, how many will get killed?”

“Lots, chances are,” Masua said. “Wars are like that.”

Segestes came over and kissed him first on the right cheek, then on the left. “You can see this. You are not a blockhead. I can see this, too. I hope I am not a blockhead.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Masua said quickly, as a sworn retainer should have done for his chieftain.

“Well, I thank you for that,” Segestes said. “But Arminius can’t see this. He’s going here and there and everywhere, telling people we can drive out the Romans without breaking a sweat. What kind of blockhead is he? Those runty little dark bastards don’t fight the way we do, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fight.”

“I have seen them do it,” the younger man replied. “You are right. They know how.”

“Why does he think we can beat them so easily, then? Why?” Segestes said. “Even if we win a battle, they will just bring in more soldiers. That is what they are doing in Pannonia. Their king, this fellow Augustus, is as stubborn a man as ever was born. He will not let go because he burns a finger. Isn’t it better to ride the way the horse is already going instead of trying to turn the stupid beast around?”