Most academics maintain that the visored Roman cavalry helmets were only for parade ground use, the main reason being their lack of vision. However, increasing numbers of reenactors who ride and train with replicas of these helmets, say that it
is
possible to charge and fight while wearing them. Think also of medieval knights, and the helmets they wore in battle!
I stayed true to the timeline of the ambush as we know it, and the individual events within it, such as the manner of the tribesmen’s attacks, the sounding of the barritus, the ditching of the Romans’ equipment, the legions’ cataclysmic losses, Vala’s failed attempt to escape with the cavalry, Varus’ suicide and the loss of one eagle in the bog. The gruesome mutilations of Roman prisoners, including the legionary who had his tongue cut out, are described in the histories. Aliso was besieged, yet some of the survivors of the ambush did make it inside the walls. Caedicius was the commander there, and he bravely led his garrison and some civilians to safety as a night storm raged. His ruse of making the Germans think that reinforcements were advancing from the Rhine is recorded – a stroke of desperate genius if there ever was one.
I’ve had great fun weaving real-life people into this book as minor characters, and also using Roman artefacts that have been discovered in that part of Germany. I have already mentioned Cessorinius Ammausias – he was an ursarius, not of the Eighteenth Legion but the later Thirtieth, and was stationed at Colonia Ulpia Traiana rather than Vetera. A legionary called Marcus Aius, of Fabricius’ century, lost two bronze armour fasteners at the Kalkriese battlefield – they were found some distance apart, as if they had fallen from a running man’s purse. It was my invention to have Piso win them at dice. The cavalry helmet carried and lost by Tubero is based on the iconic helmet facepiece that was found at Kalkriese. The spices offered to Piso when he goes in search of wine aren’t a result of my crazed imagination: peppercorns and coriander seeds – originating in India – have been found in the sewers of Roman camps in Germany, dating from as early as 11
BC
. The large wooden wine barrels mentioned in Aliso are contemporary with ones found in nearby Oberaden. The soldiers’ coin hoards mentioned by Caedicius as being left under barracks’ floors have their basis in a real example, on display in the Haltern-am-See museum, clay pot and all. You can also see vicious-spiked caltrops there, similar to the ones used by the legionaries as they escaped.
Being a writer of historical fiction is a real privilege, because it means that one of my passions in life – history – is now my day job. Most of the time, my work is an absolute joy, which makes me feel even luckier, but with it comes a somewhat unexpected duty of care – that of being as ‘true’ to history as I can. This is a feeling that has grown on me since my first few books were published, and I hope it shows in my writing.
It has come about for several reasons, one of which is the amount of time that I’ve spent wearing the gear of an ancient Roman soldier, while training for and taking part in two long-distance charity walks. (With a little bit of luck, you will soon see
The Road to Rome
, the film of our 2014 #RomaniWalk, narrated by Sir Ian McKellen, on a TV channel near you! Here I must also mention, and thank, the hundreds of people who gave so generously to our campaign. The character of Maelo is loosely based on Gwilym Williams, who won a competition I ran during the fundraising.) By my rough estimate, I have now walked more than 800 kilometres wearing equipment and armour that weighs between 15 and 26 kilograms – the weight depending on stage of training/weather/my mood and energy levels. This experience has informed my writing a great deal, and the details you read about marching are, for the most part, direct experience. For example, I believe (as do many re-enactors) that marching Roman soldiers wore their shields on their backs. It’s comfortable to do so, and the shield can be unslung and held ready to fight in less than twenty seconds. I’ve tried walking with the shield in my right hand – as do the legionaries depicted on Trajan’s column and other monuments – and found that it’s crippling after only a short distance. Slinging it over one shoulder by a strap doesn’t work that well either. I think that the ancient portrayals were an artistic conceit to allow the viewer to better picture the soldiers and their equipment.
Live combat is another matter. Even if I could experience the gut-wrenching fear and the utter savagery, I wouldn’t want to do so, but my experiences as a veterinary student in Africa mean that I know how to slaughter a goat with a sharp knife. It can’t be that different (even if it’s psychologically far worse) to do the same to a human. It’s easier than you think to cut a throat and take a blade right to the spinal column.
Cursing: it will not surprise you that the Romans were fond – very fond – of swearing. Some of their favourite oaths revolved around the ‘C’ word, which is regarded by many as one of the worst curse words around. In previous books, therefore, I tended to use the ‘F’ word (although less attested, there is a Latin verb,
futuere).
In this book, I felt it apt to use the ‘C’ word – albeit sparingly. (In an aside, I also had Tullus use the term ‘brother’ when talking to his men because it is authentic: there are recorded instances of centurions referring to their soldiers in this way.)
Trying to recreate how life might have been is helped by travelling to the places, or the general areas, where the historical events took place. I have been to most of the locations in my books, and walked the ground there. Doing this is a great help when creating the various scenes in the story. As I write this in November 2014, I have just returned from an eight-day trip to Germany, during which I drove, cycled and walked more than a thousand kilometres along the River Rhine, from Xanten in the north down as far as Mainz. On this journey, I visited many museums, the wonderful archaeological park at Xanten, and the sites of several Roman forts. The rich variety of ancient artefacts in Germany, both military and civilian, is really impressive, and set my mind racing with new ideas.
I cannot recommend enough a visit to the park in Xanten, where you can see accurate reconstructions of a three-storey gate to the town, a sizeable section of its wall, the large amphitheatre, workshops, guesthouse and a tavern and restaurant that are open for business. Not far to the east is one of the best Roman museums I have visited, in the town of Haltern-am-See. Some hundred kilometres further inland is the amazing Kalkriese battlefield, thought for some years to be the actual site of the Teutoburg Forest. In recent years, that theory has fallen away somewhat, thanks to the wealth of coins found there that date to the late first century
BC
. Regardless of this, the location
did
see a tribal ambush on Roman forces. The reconstructed German fortifications and the wealth of objects in the museum there cannot fail to fire one’s imagination about the real battle.
The Roman museums in Cologne, Bonn and Mainz are also excellent, each for their own reasons. I feel the Museum of Ancient Shipbuilding in Mainz deserves a special mention, because of its rare finds of Roman river vessels and the extraordinary reconstructions of two of them. As for the entirely reconstructed second century
AD
fort at Saalburg, all I can say is, ‘Go!’ If you’re into hiking or cycling, you can visit Saalburg on part of the 560-kilometre track that leads along the German Limes, the border defences that linked the Rhine and the Danube for two centuries.
The ancient texts provide another route to the past. If it weren’t for Tacitus, Florus, Velleius Paterculus, Cassius Dio and Pliny, I would have been lost when it came to writing this book. Their words, often rather ‘Rome-aggrandising’, have to be taken with a pinch of salt, but they are still of great value when it comes to research and ‘picturing the past’. Textbooks are also indispensable. A bibliography of those I used while writing
Eagles at War
would run to several pages, so I will only mention the most important, in alphabetical order by author:
Handbook to Legionary Fortresses
by M. C. Bishop;
Roman Military Equipment
by M. C. Bishop and J. C. N. Coulston;
Greece and Rome at War
by Peter Connolly;
The Complete Roman Army
by Adrian Goldsworthy;
Rome’s Greatest Defeat: Massacre in the Teutoburg Forest
by Adrian Murdoch;
Eager for Glory: The Untold story of Drusus the Elder
,
Germanicus
, and
Roman Soldier versus Germanic Warrior
, all by Lindsay Powell;
The Varian Disaster
(multiple authors), a special edition of
Ancient Warfare
magazine. I’d like to mention the publishers Osprey and Karwansaray, whose publications are of frequent help, and the ever-useful
Oxford Classical Dictionary
.
Thanks, as always, to the members of www.romanarmy.com, for their rapid answers to my odd questions, and to Paul Harston and the legionaries of Roman Tours UK, for the same, and for agreeing to provide men and materials for the covers of this and the next two volumes in the trilogy. Go, Roland! Paul Karremans of the Gemina Project in the Netherlands deserves a special mention too, and huge thanks, for the generous loan of his re-enactment unit’s eagle.
Dank u wel
, Paul. I want to thank Adrian Murdoch and Lindsay Powell, mentioned above, for their patience, knowledge and generosity with their time. Not only did they help me with information during many stages of the writing process, and answer my frequent questions, but they were kind enough to read the manuscript when it was done, and to provide further words of wisdom. You are both true gentlemen. I’m also indebted to Jenny Dolfen, the talented German writer and illustrator, for her help with Germanic names.
I owe gratitude to a legion of people at my publishers, Random House. Selina Walker, my wonderful editor, possesses an eagle eye quite like no other. This book would be a much lesser creature if it weren’t for her. Thank you, Selina. Rose Tremlett, Richard Ogle, Aslan Byrne, Nathaniel Alcaraz-Stapleton, Vincent Kelleher and David Parrish, thank you! You all work so hard to ensure that my books do well. Gratitude also to my foreign publishers, in particular to Carol Paris and her team at Ediciones B in Spain, and to Keith Kahla and his colleagues at St. Martin’s Press in the United States.
Other people must be named, and thanked: Charlie Viney, my superlative agent. Richenda Todd, my copy editor, a real star. Claire Wheller, the best sports physio in the world. Arthur O’Connor, an old friend, for his criticism of, and improvements to, my stories. Massive thanks also to you, my wonderful readers. It’s you who keep me in a job, which makes me more grateful than you could know. Anything not to go back to veterinary medicine! Your emails from around the world, and contacts on Facebook and Twitter, brighten up my days: please keep them coming. Last, but most definitely not least, I want to thank Sair, my wonderful wife, and Ferdia and Pippa, my beautiful children, for the boundless love and joy that they bring into my world.
Ways to contact me:
Email: [email protected]
Twitter:
@BenKaneAuthor
Facebook:
facebook.com/benkanebooks
Also, my website:
www.benkane.net
YouTube (my short documentary-style videos):
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCorPV-9BUCzfvRT-bVOSYYw
Glossary
acetum
: sour wine, the universal beverage served to legionaries. Also the word for vinegar, the most common disinfectant used by Roman surgeons. Vinegar is excellent at killing bacteria, and its widespread use in western medicine continued until late in the nineteenth century.
alae
(sing.
ala
): auxiliary cavalry units, which were used as support troops to the legions, and commanded by prefects, equestrian officers. The
alae
were of varying strength, either quingenary (512 riders in 16
turmae
) or milliary (768 in 32
turmae
). It’s possible that Arminius may have commanded such a unit, and that’s how I chose to portray him. (See also the entry for
turma
.)
Alara: the River Aller.
Albis: the River Elbe.
Amisia: the River Ems.
amphora
(pl.
amphorae
): a two-handled clay vessel with a narrow neck and tapering base used to store wine, olive oil and other produce. Of many sizes, including vessels that are larger than a man, amphorae were heavily used in long-distance transport.
aquilifer
(pl.
aquiliferi
): the standard-bearer for the
aquila
, or eagle, of a legion. The images surviving today show the
aquilifer
bare-headed, leading some to suppose that this was always the case. In combat, however, this would have been too dangerous; it’s probable that the
aquilifer
did
use a helmet. We do not know either if he wore an animal skin, as the
signifer
(see entry below) did, but it is a common interpretation. The armour was often scale, and the shield probably a small one, which could be carried without using the hands. During the early empire, the
aquila
was made of gold, and was mounted on a spiked wooden staff, allowing it to be shoved into the ground. Sometimes the staff had arms, which permitted it to be borne more easily. Even when damaged, the
aquila
was not destroyed, but repaired time and again. If lost in battle, the Romans would do almost anything to get the standard back, as you will read in the next book in this series. (See also the entry for legion.)