Marius Julius Daia moved along through the section of the fortified camp that belonged to the legionnaires. He moved along, chewing the last bit of met that he held in his mouth, and looked out over the troops and their tents. The men laughed and disassembled their areas, packing personal items and supplies. As he looked over at one particularly small soldier, who looked back over at the legate and gave a pleasing salute, Julius thought that rumors of nervous troops could hardly be true. These men seemed utterly confident and prepared for war. Tribunes who passed rumors of destroyed legions in the Rhaetias, and hundreds of thousands of Germans, had attempted to rouse a certain level of fear within the ranks of those legions in Gaul. Over the years, it had been discovered that little bits of frightful propaganda whispering itself through the ranks put troops in a serious mind set, preparing them to risk all for neither glory nor country, but for each other and their lives.

As Julius greeted a familiar pair of soldiers, a small party formed around the legate. Julius felt comfortable with the men. With those plebs, the legate needed to give no formal oratory, he was not required to kiss any rings, and he could listen to the stories, jokes, and dreams that the men had to give. These men were the backbone of Rome. They risked the most and received the least in return. Julius was well accepted by the troops, in that only a year before he had served directly over them as a tribune.

Julius parted with the group and continued along the side of the trench and pike-wall of the camp. He passed a tower, upon which dozens of soldiers worked, dismantling the structure. Julius passed through a section of tents, and made his way directly across the camp, toward the officer's section. Crossing the wide avenue that stretched across the center of the place, Julius saw a large tent used as a briefing room, and headed for it.

And so, Marius Julius Daia sat himself at a table in the tent. The frigid winds from outside were shut out, and the inside of the briefing center was comfortably warm, from charcoal braziers. There, the legate sat and waited to hear from his Proconsul, Sextus Valens Verus.

After a time, Julius realized he had been seated for longer than was usual. The Proconsul had summoned him, and was nowhere to be found. As Julius began to wonder whether or not he had foolishly entered the wrong tent, several men entered. Julius stood, and watched as they helped the wounded commander along. Valens was sweating, and looked to be in a bit of pain, as the men lowered him, with his leg outstretched. After the Proconsul was situated, the soldiers left, and Julius stood opposite the leader. “Hello Julius, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“It is no problem, sir. I was informed you had summoned me, and I made my way over here as quickly as I could. How is your leg, Proconsul?” asked Julius, as he studied the aged features of the man before him. Despite the fact that Valens was entering quickly into old age, the man still held an incredibly keen military mind, and a passion for life. It was rumored that the Proconsul had one last adventure he wished to embark upon, before he retired his sword.

“Oh, it’s healing. Just not fast enough,” replied Valens, as he looked at his heavily bandaged leg. The break in his thigh had occurred some weeks before, and the Proconsul had alluded any infection or complications from his injury. It was just a matter of time before he would be able to easily walk without assistance again.

“Well, I’m sure you will be back on your feet in no time, sir.”

“Yes, hopefully,” said Valens. The Proconsul looked over at the legate, and studied him up and down. Julius could not help but feel awkward with the silence, and his heart began beating more heavily out of fear of what the commander might say.

“Are- are you displeased with my performance as legate of Legio VIII, sir?” asked Julius, with a slightly nervous tone.

The Proconsul shook his head, and looked up at Julius. “No, no, no,” laughed Valens. “I am quite pleased, Julius, with your performance as legate of your men. You have brought order and professionalism to that legion,” he said. After a brief moment of silence, Valens gestured for Julius to bring over the cask of wine, and a pair of cups, from a table in the corner.

As Julius handed a cup of wine to his commander, the man continued to speak. “Julius, I have kept my eye on you and your men since you met me here in camp, last month.”

“I see,” replied the legate.

“You are familiar with your men, you spend your time amongst them. They respect you,” said the Proconsul, as he took a sip of wine. “When I walk through your section of camp, it becomes obvious to me that your men love you and are willing to go the distance for you.”

Julius was honored by the Proconsul’s praise, and he politely nodded his head as the man continued speaking.

“The professionalism of your men speaks for itself, Julius. Their professionalism speaks for your leadership,” said Valens. He smiled gently, and said “I am most impressed.”

“Thank you, sir. I am honored by such praise,” replied Julius.

There was a pause, and Valens continued speaking. “I watch you closely, Julius, because we are entering upon a dangerous campaign. We move to the frontier with Western Germania Superior tonight, and we will receive orders for the invasion any time now. The men need as much talented command as can be mustered. Unfortunately,” said the Proconsul, as he looked down at his leg, “I will have to sit out the battles for this campaign. My leg is not healed yet, and my presence directly on the field will only invite disaster, for opportunistic Germans.”

“So I see, sir,” replied Julius.

“I can best serve Rome’s legions with my mind. You, Julius, can serve her well on the battlefield,” said Valens.

Julius nodded his head, as he realized what the commander was about to suggest. “You know Arminius personally, you know Germania, its culture, its people,” said the commander.

“Yes sir, that is true,” said the Legate. Julius turned as he watched the entrance, as two other legates entered the room. He nodded to Titus Antonius Servo and Lucius Julianus, as they came to stand behind Julius.

“Hello Antonius, Lucius,” greeted the Proconsul. “Help yourselves to some wine.”

The four men stood for a moment, in silence, as Valens cleared his throat. “I summoned all three of you to announce that, given my injury, I have decided that Julius Daia shall command the legions in my charge during the campaign.”

Julius stood, and nodded his head. “Thank you for your confidence, sir. This is a great honor.”

“I will move along with the troops, but will remain some meters from the battlefields. Julius will keep regular communication with me, as the campaign endures,” said the Proconsul.

The four men sat around the table in the briefing tent, discussing the role that legions VI, VIII, and XXXVII would play in the campaign to conquer Western Germania Superior. Above all, Julius Daia remained sure that it was imperative that Arminius be dealt with, in one way or another. In Julius’ mind, it seemed clear that if that German be allowed to escape after his forces are dealt with, he would continue to be a thorn in Rome’s side for the rest of his existence. No portion of Germania would be secure as long as Arminius and the other unknown leaders of the Germanic tribes roamed, telling their stories of Rome’s evil.


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The wind howled outside, bringing a cold draft inside the small room every so often. Julius listened to a few of his men laugh and joke outside. The legate was closely attuned to the unusual accent of the legionnaire whose ancestry was from northern Gaul. The man had served with Julius for years, assimilated himself into Latin culture, and slowly developed dreams of becoming a land owner in one of the provinces, should he one day become settled as a veteran. Each legionnaire had a story, just like the Gallic man. Everyone had their own saga, unique and individual. Julius marveled at how easily these precious souls would spend their lives in the coming campaign. Going home to Rome or some plot of land was not in anyone’s near future.

Julius listened to the approach of horses, and the sound of dozens of men dismounting. After just several moments, Legate Gaius Curtius Thrax entered the room, and the two men greeted each other. Julius smiled brightly, and said “Ah, welcome my friend! What do you think of Eastern Aquitania Gaul so far?”

The younger man smiled. “It is nothing like Rhaetia!”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear you’re disappointed!”

“All these places look the same, Legate. But,” said Curtius, pausing for a moment. “Not all of these places are as promising as Germania!”

The two men laughed for a bit, as Julius poured wine. After a few moments of introductions, the men quickly got to business. “I am glad to have heard from you so soon, Curtius. Many of the legates are busy with their men. It is reassuring to know I have been able to meet with at least one of my colleagues, before this invasion.”

Curtius looked across and Julius with a serious _expression. “Are you getting the bad feeling I am?”

“What is that?” asked Julius, cautiously.

“That much of the field command is not adequately prepared for this invasion.”

Julius laughed a little. Curtius’ face remained serious, and Julius realized it would be safe to voice his opinions openly. “Curtius, I don’t know if this is the most prudent time to invade Germania. Personally, I’d like to see Arminius make the first move. But, the Emperor sees it necessary to conquer Western Germania Superior, and we are all obliged to follow orders,” he said.

Julius paused a moment, and motioned for a few guards to leave the room. Both legates watched the men leave, and then the conversation continued. Julius leaned over the table, as the sound of wolves howling in the distance reached the cold room. “I also fear that the legates are unprepared. These men severely underestimate the forces we have to contend with. No Roman has encountered a German such as Arminius. This man knows exactly how legions move, and fight,” said Julius.

Curtius nodded his head in affirmation. “Your letters describing our opponent were very … sobering. I am sad to admit I came into this situation with little knowledge of this area and its people. Although I do miss hunting pirates, I feel as comfortable here as in the much more comfortable Aegean, thanks to you of course.”

“Well, any comfort we have will be gone in a few days or weeks.” Julius paused a moment, and then continued speaking. “We have forces that are better armed and trained than has Arminius. But, an army is only as good as its commanders. An army of sheep led by a lion is preferable to-”

“An army of lions led by a sheep,” said Curtius, nodding quickly, taking a sip of wine.

“I heard stories of a zealous young Legate, a Vitellian, I think. He sends letters to the Emperor and others describing his thoughts on proper strategy for this campaign,” remarked Julius, with a half-grin on his face.

“Yes, I know, I’ve heard of his plans. He suggests we will be inhibited by fighting with our full force, the best strategy is to split and fight the Germans in swamps and the black forests,” laughed Curtius.

“How can such young men become legates so early on? Has this new legate not heard of the tens of thousands of barbarians we are facing? Arminius does not bring hundreds of raiders to a fight. To this fight, he will bring as many men as he can, possibly enough to equal our force. He’s been training his men for nearly two or three years now,” said Julius.

The men sat and conversed for hours, discussing the need to keep Rome’s forces unified, under a joint command. Eastern and Western forces would have to sandwich Arminius.

“Julius, you mentioned that we must split Arminius’ force, somehow,” said Curtius.

Julius smiled as he realized he was establishing a camaraderie with the man opposite him. If the two legates could begin to anticipate one another’s moves, then it would be possible to unite two different wings of the invasion force. “Yes, I know that Arminius will cross the Rhine.”

“But, the problem lies in the fact that we will be invading Western Germania Superior…”

“Yes, you’ve read my mind. Arminius’ force rests, so I believe, about forty or fifty miles east of the Rhine. My forces in Gaul are going to have to invade from the west, obviously, which is where the German commander is expecting us to come from.”

“Right,” said Curtius. “I’ve been expecting to move out of Rhaetia to come into contact with a greater Roman force.”

“Perhaps, it would be best if your forces did not come into Gaul at all, to rendezvous with the rest. Perhaps the few eastern legions could slip in between the strip of land between the Rhine and the Danube-”

“Yes, and reach Arminius from behind. He’ll be expecting you all from the other direction,” interjected Curtius.

“And, in fact, you could remain some distance away from Arminius. I could launch an invasion from the west, driving into the portion of Western Germania Superior that is on that side of the Rhine. Arminius would assume those tens of thousands of legionnaires would be the whole, or bulk, of the force. Either way, I know he will attack after Rome shows that aggression. He will be further enraged if he discovers that I am in command of armies,” said Julius.

“But, we will not drive any farther east. We will burn and loot in that portion of Germania. We will anger Arminius, and provoke him to cross the Rhine. He’s been studying that river for years, and will surely ford it,” continued Julius.

“Yes, but fording a river with an army of thousands is no easy task for anyone, especially for a horde of Germans without any engineering skill. An awkward process indeed.” said Curtius with a grin. “With my forces east of the Rhine, hidden in the uneven terrain, he may never think to look to his rear.”

“Exactly. It’s a risk, Arminius is no fool. But he is filled with pride. He will want to drive the main bulk of Romans away, as quickly as possible. When Arminius begins crossing the Rhine, I will attack with my forces, when a great deal of his force has crossed. Only when your scouts realize that my men have begun striking the forces that have already crossed, should you come to the eastern bank, and begin your attack. Arminius will be sandwiched-”

“Julius, it is not a wise move to attack cornered barbarians. They will fight for their lives ferociously, and, it may invite disaster. A man fights hardest when he is cornered,” said Curtius.

“Yes, but it is best to split Arminius’ force, Curtius. We must separate his army, and strike when he is vulnerable. Confusion and fear will spread throughout his ranks, and I am confident we will destroy the Germans,” said Julius.

The two sat in silence for several moments, each taking in the situation, imagining the coming weeks. Finally, Julius leaned forward, and spoke with a low, even tone. “Curtius, we must kill or capture Arminius. If he should escape, he will be able to later rouse troops. The dream of a powerful Germania lies with him, and him alone. His voice is the one that spurs the Germans to organized arms. A Germania without the leadership and nagging voice of Arminius will be a benign and controllable country.” Curtius leaned back in thought, and slightly nodding, took another sip of wine.

And so the two legates discussed the tactics to be embraced in battle, outlining different possibilities and outcomes, and how the legions would deal with such situations. Later in the evening, the men turned and traveled their separate ways, one north and the other east, to begin final preparations and drills before the invasion.


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Eastern Aquitania Gaul,
Septembris, 46 AD

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By: Marius Julius Daia, Gaius Curtius Thrax