Give me back my Legions! by Harry Turtledove

Author:Harry Turtledove [Turtledove, Harry]
Language: rus
Format: epub
Tags: sci_history

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From perhaps half a mile away, Sigimerus eyed the Roman encampment of Mindenum. “You want us to go in there?” he asked, his voice rising in disbelief.

But Arminius nodded. “I do, Father. I’ve been in and out several times. Varus thinks I can’t possibly be dangerous. And why? Because I don’t hide from him, that’s why. He doesn’t believe someone who is an enemy of Rome would dare let the legionaries get their hands on him whenever they please.”

“I can see why he doesn’t,” Sigimerus muttered.

A train of ox-drawn wagons guarded by Roman soldiers brought supplies from the Lupia River to the fortress. By now, after a couple of years, the wagons had worn deep ruts in the German soil. The Romans thought they were wearing their way into Germany in the same fashion. Arminius stubbornly refused to believe it. That the invaders felt they needed so many men to protect their goods showed how far from victory they were. It did to him, anyhow.

“Come on. He will treat you with honor,” Arminius said. “Why shouldn’t he? Aren’t you the father of a Roman citizen, the father of a veteran of the Roman auxiliaries?” Sigimerus was the father of two veterans of the Roman auxiliaries, but Arminius refused to think about Flavus, who was still fighting in Pannonia.

“Gods grant I am not the father of a fool,” Sigimerus said.

Despite the gibe, he followed Arminius toward the fort. He studied it with keen interest as they got closer. Arminius understood that. The Romans were masters of fieldcraft. No German army had ever dreamt of protecting itself in hostile country the way the Romans did. The Germans thought the Romans worked too hard . . . till they had to attack one of those encampments. Then the legionaries’ labor proved its worth - again and again and again.

A Roman soldier outside the rampart spied the approaching Germans and trotted over to see who they were and what they might be up to. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, recognizing Arminius. He sounded polite but businesslike: not a tone a German would have been likely to take. “Who’s this, ah, gentleman with you?”

Who’s this barbarian with you? That was what he’d been on the point of asking. Arminius was sure of it. But the Roman had swallowed the insult, so Arminius had to pretend he didn’t know it was there. “This is my father - his name is Sigimerus. He has come to meet the great Quinctilius Varus, whose praises he has often heard from me.”

No German would have swallowed flattery laid on even half so thick. But the legionary did. The Romans were in the habit of extravagantly flattering one another. They might have been so many dogs, licking one another’s privates and assholes. But they were dangerous dogs.

This one wasn’t dangerous now; the flattery put him at ease. “Well, he can do that. You can do that. Come along with me, and I’ll bring you to the gate.”

By the way he spoke, he intended to be obeyed.

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