Chapter 1

The rains intensified as the XVII Legion made its way into the depths of the Teutoberg Forest. Tribune Drusus Marcellus rode his horse down the narrow path with his men using their soaked leather shields as prevention against the cold wet elements. Along with the XVIII and XIX Legions being strung out in single file through the darkened thick woods, Drusus felt this was a bad omen. In an area like this, there was no means for a Legion to form a phalanx. They were exposed.

Arminius, a German chief who was friendly with Rome, had sent a message that one of his large settlements were destroyed by wild tribes and was threatening another. He pleaded with General Quinctilius Varus to send help immediately. This was their third day on the march and it had rained from the very beginning. They had crossed the Weser River which was the boundary between the Empire and this unknown wilderness.

"Keep moving lads," he shouted to his troops. "Come on, don't lag." 'Easy for me to say, ' he thought. 'I'm on my horse and these poor men are barely making it on foot.'

Drusus was the son of a nobleman and Senator Julius Marcellus, friend to Augustus the Emperor of Rome. Knowing that his Uncle Julius had been assassinated, Augustus took the title of "Father of the Empire". His father fought at Augustus' side that defeated both Marc Antony and Cleopatra in the great sea battle of Actium. Both Antony and Cleopatra commited suicide which left Augustus the sole ruler of Rome. Many times he was at court with his father to meet the Emperor.

As Drusus grew into manhood, he was tall but wiry thin. He was trained on Mars Hill to become a great swordsman as well as an archer. Augustus bestowed upon him the rank of Tribune and sent him north to the XVII Legion. He distinguished himself many times in battle suffering a few wounds in the process. What endeared him to his soldiers was that if they had no tent to sleep under, neither did Drusus. He would do like the rest. Take his cloak and blanket to sleep under the stars, or in rain, or in snow. He ate what they ate. He drank the same wine or ale they did. Thus he gained the loyalty of his men and some other tribune's. Another thing that made his men like him so well was he forgave all debts from them when they played dice. Drusus didn't want or need their money. He just gambled for the fun of it. When the game was over, he returned all the coins he had won but allowed his men to keep what they won from him.

"All right men, take a fifteen minute rest," Drusus called out. He dismounted to let his horse drink from a nearby pond. He took a drink of water himself then went into the trees to relieve himself. The last thing he remembered was shouting, skirmishing then blackness.

Drusus awoke with a painful head injury. His helmet had been crushed on one side of his head and he heard laughter. He opened his eyes to see he was bound by ropes as well as a few other men in Roman warrior armor. He laid there with his eyes closed due to the severe agony. He listened to some German chieftans talking and laughing but had no knowledge what tongue they were speaking in. Whatever it was, they were a joyous bunch quickly becoming drunk from the ale they were consuming. He tried to move his hands but they were tightly bound.

"What happened?" he whispered to another tribune.

"They got us all," the man answered.

"What does that mean?"

"They slaughtered almost everyone in our three legions. They attacked us all up and down our line. We had no room to manuveur or set up any defense. Rome is ruined," he groaned. "There's no one between us and Rome. All they have to do is just march down the peninsula and take it over. I pity my wife and children."

"Augustus won't let that happen," Drusus returned even though he felt he was talking in a fog. "He'll think of something. Tell me, were there any men who made it back across the river?"

"I don't think so," the man said. "It is a complete ruin for us. They took Varus off and beheaded him. They've got it in a jar over there to send to Rome." In truth Varus had fallen on his sword committing suicide. If there was a head in the jar, it wasn't Varus'.

Seconds later Arminius entered the tent. All of his troops rose and voiced their praise of him. He walked by Drusus paying him no mind. He was out of Drusus' sight when he sat in the seat of honor reserved for all brave German chieftains.

"Bring the prisoners forward," he commanded in Latin.

Drusus was pulled to his feet. He thought that he was coming around until he was yanked up. His knees buckled and he had to be held firmly by the armpits. Arminius walked down the dozen or so prisoners.