It took longer than the Legate would have liked for the officers under his command to gather. Eventually, Numonius returned and told him they were on the way.

  “Finally,” he said as the five men ducked into his tent, took off their helmets, and stood in front of his map table.

  Varus regarded the officers with the same critical eye he had used on Arminius. Legate Anquirinnius, commander of the Seventeenth Legion, was renowned as being harsh but fair and one to speak his mind. Legate Gnaeus Lerius, commander of the Eighteenth, was nondescript as far as Varus knew; one of those sturdy work bullocks who gained no renown but did their duty well. The three Banded Tribunes—officially second in command of a legion—including his own, Lucius Eggius, were appointed and political; only time would tell whether they would be competent officers in the field. He suspected they would because, although political, they were born to war, as were all men of the patrician class. He supposed they might even be better in some ways because the Emperor appointed the finest minds Banded Tribune. Of course, some tried to buy the position, but Augustus was aware of how his power rested on the shoulders of his legions. Incompetent leaders made bad armies, leaving Emperors at the mercy of the plebiscites.

  Eventually, Varus said, “Our scouts report an uprising in Teutoburg—the Angrivarii. I want your thoughts on an expedition into the forests to suppress it.”

  “The barbarian said the enemy army might be as many as sixty thousand, which is probably over-estimated,” Numonius added, causing Varus to frown.

  I was going to tell them that.

  His high command stood silently for several moments before Anquirinnius said, “Teutoburg is thickly forested. Are there any roads that the legions could march along?”

  “It is a good question, Anquirinnius,” Varus nodded approvingly. “Arminius has scouted. He says there is one road through the forest we could use. It will bring us directly to the main settlement of the Angrivarii here.”

  The Legate leaned over his table and pointed at a crude map held down by his sword and helmet. The officers gathered around and gazed at the terrain but said nothing. He could see the skepticism bubbling just below the surface of the men. Numonius might be confident in the superior ability of the legions, but these men were less convinced.

  They are wondering about the accuracy of the map.

  “Are we to trust him?” Lerius asked.

  “Who?” Varus asked, despite knowing who. He’d not been expecting the question and wanted time to consider how best to respond.

  “Is Arminius not from this area?”

  The Legate watched the officer, not sure if his doubts about Arminius were his alone. He suspected there would be others in the small army who doubted the Cherusci warrior. He thought the doubts were probably nothing more than envy. Arminius was one of Rome’s best officers, which the present company could take as a personal insult.

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  “Have you any reason to doubt his loyalty, Gnaeus?”

  “No, Sir. But it is challenging terrain and would be ideal for an ambush. If there is any doubt, any doubt at all…”

  “I do not doubt his loyalty. He has served Rome well, hence his rapid rise to command an auxiliary cavalry unit. I would trust him with my life.”

  “Which is exactly what you are doing,” Numonius said, so low that only Varus heard him. He chose not to respond, thinking the negativity would adversely affect his senior officers. In his experience, low spirits in an army often started above and filtered down.

  Is his insubordination justified?

  “Is there time, Sir?” Lucius Eggius asked.

  “Time?”

  “Yes, Sir. Autumn has begun. In two or three moons, this country will be knee-deep in snow. Do we have time to conduct a campaign?”

  “They have one of those earthen forts, apparently,” Varus said with a sigh. “It will not be necessary to lay a siege. Our soldiers would storm it with ease. I am not sure we need much time.”

  “I think if the legionaries were in good spirits, that would be beyond doubt,” Proculus, the Banded Tribune of the Seventeenth, said. “In their current mood, it might not be the case.”

  Varus frowned, unsure he liked what he was hearing. Shaking his head, he tried to recall what the report said about Proculus. He’d spent several hours perusing his predecessor’s findings when he assumed power. Try as he might, he could not recall anything about the Banded Tribune. He was not sure whether that was a positive. He would have remembered good or bad things written about the young officer, only forgetting anything indifferent.

  By questioning his ability, you are questioning the Emperor, Varus realized.

  “What are you saying, Proculus?” he asked.

  “With the raids and inactivity—a lack of loot, if you like—the men are restless and low-spirited. They expected plunder but have been sitting on their hands. I’m not sure they will be as effective as we would normally expect.”

  “And do you think they are so dispirited as to be incapable of beating a horde of barbarians?” Numonius scoffed.

  Proculus looked around at the other officers for support. They were all looking away from him, distancing themselves. Varus decided to keep a close watch on the Banded Tribune. Even his colleagues had no faith in his ability.

  “Well, Proculus, do you think our legions are unable for the task ahead?” Varus asked.

  The officer shook his head and put his hands behind his back, distancing himself from his objection.

  “Good,” the Legate said with finality. “My decision is that we march on the Angrivarii. Inform the men that they can loot the enemy, boosting their spirits.”

  Varus expected his words to ease the scowl on Proculus’s face. Instead, the young officer scuffed his caligae in the dirt floor of the tent, keeping his eyes on them as he did so.

  “Well, that went well,” Numonius said from his habitual position behind Varus’s chair.

  The Legate looked over his shoulder at the snide tone of his second-in-command. With the expression on the man’s face, he thought he would never hate his subordinate more than he did at that moment.

  “You will keep an eye on Proculus,” he said. “I am not sure he is Banded Tribune material.”