The Wald Read Online Free Page B

Cheruscans, the Suebians.  Why they were even called Germanic, implying they held some type of unifying belief or heritage, confused Septimus.  He had never heard of nor seen them exhibit anything other than tribalism, unified only occasionally when convenient.  Mostly, they fought and killed one another over the scraps of food their small cattle or foraging hogs provided.
    “ Legionaries of Rome!” Drusus cried.  His voice was strong – a good sign thought Septimus – but cracked as the general tried to reach for volume in the wide expanse.  “I have just come from a meeting with our Caesar, our god on this very earth.  He is pleased with our progress on this city and wishes it to become the center of Rome’s influence here in the north.  We will make his wishes true as we serve him!”  The men cheered.
    “You are the key to achieving our emperor’s goals.  You, fine officers of Rome, will see that the influence of this city extends into the dark forests beyond the Rhenus like a signal fire serves as a beacon to the lost.  Like Julius Caesar conquered Gaul – to the very ground on which we stand – Augustus compels us to do the same with Germania and beyond!”
    “We have spent the last three years preparing for these defining moments when we avenge the deaths suffered by Lollius and his Fifth Legion, when we demonstrate that stealing an eagle standard from its bearer is an act of thievery against each one of us.  We’ve built fortifications here on the frontier – from Vetera in the north, to Ubiorum here in the center, to Mogontiacum in the south.  Even now we build a navy like these northern waters have never seen.  We will slowly pull down the bleak curtain that covers Germania.  You will be the javelin of Augustus, loosed from the peaceful tranquility of Rome into the very heart of darkness.”
    In one voice, the men called out Caesar!  Caesar!  Caesar!  Septimus joined them, eager to please the gods and live a life of glory on the battlefield.  Roman wealth and culture was the way.  It was inevitable that it would cover the world, but men resisted change.  Even if the change was for the good, men dug their feet into the earth and pushed back against it.  Septimus’ own people had done so before he was born when Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon River.  But now his generation knew and those after him would know the wisdom and wealth of the empire.  The wild tribes across yet another river, this time the Rhenus, would dig in their heels.  They would fight. They would lash out and kill.  Yet, they, like Septimus’ Cisalpine ancestors, would eventually yield.  He grinned like a young fool while chanting with the rest.
    . . .
    Septimus led his century of men along the newly cleared road.  It was a path that more or less followed the snake-like walk of the great river to his east.  This was as far north as he had ever been in his life – they had passed the fortress at Vetera the day before – and he was surprised at just how hot it was under the warm spring sun and his polished helmet.  He had heard that the weather was not as oppressive as the south, but doubted such whispers that day on the march.
    The centurion had used th e recent increase in pay that came with leadership to purchase a new helmet in the more modern style.  Septimus had even given the blacksmith a tip after he tried it on – the leather padding inside fit his head perfectly – feeling like he was wealthy with the extra silver denarii jingling in his purse.   The neck guard on the helmet was broader than that of the old by at least the width of two fingers.  The cheek guards covered more of his face and fit snugly, yet more comfortably, when cinched with the leather straps below his chin.  It even had a small outcropping of metal that wrapped around the brow.  This bead of iron was to help deflect a downward sword thrust away from his face.  Septimus was not certain it would help, but having seen