alternatehistory.com

Before I begin, I've got another story to tell. Several years ago, on this very website, someone started up a timeline called "Europa-Imperial Ambition, Ancient Blood." It'd be unsurprising if you didn't know what that means because that was an awful title. In fact, this person was a bit of an idiot in general. They didn't research their timeline thoroughly enough, and wound up writing all manner of historically inaccurate or unlikely events. He often didn't plan far enough ahead, and sometimes planned too far ahead and lost focus on the near future. He let his schedule slip and wrote updates less and less often as time went by. Eventually, he gave up on the whole thing because it was heading for disaster. I am that idiot, that was my timeline, and this is my attempt to do it again, hopefully not as terribly as the last time, and with a more descriptive title as well.

On the Great Failure of Germanicus

And its aftermath in the Roman World and lands beyond


Chapter I: The War for Freedom

Disaster at Teutoburg: 762 AUC

Chapter I, Part I


Publius Quinctilius Varus was one of an unfortunate variety of human being, doomed to forever change the course of events in the world by dying tragically. He, of course, was unaware of this, but ignorance was not likely to spare him. Those who believe that evil is paid unto evil might claim to have known it would end this way for Varus after his tenure of cruel governance over Africa and Iudaea. But none could have foreseen that his fate, be it cosmic justice or ill fortune, would have such far-reaching consequences.

The fact that Varus was consigned to such a fate would not have been evident upon an examination of his current status in life. He had done quite well for himself; as the Propraetor [1] of Germania and Dux [2] of three legions on the Rhine he bore great prestige, power, and responsibility. He stood on the frontier of the Roman world, to proudly defend it from the savage peoples without and to someday bring those barbarians to heel before Roma.

The war had been difficult, however. These were hard people in harder lands, not like Gallia and its people. They knew their country and had made waging war within these forests, swamps, and hills into a brutal form of art. The Germani would not be conquered by one man and his army, but by many armies and generals working in unison, an effort that had been ongoing for about a decade now. It was on a September day in the year 762 Ab Urbe Condita [3] that the war would be set on the path to disaster as Varus led his three prized legions, the Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and Nineteenth, towards the Teutoburg Forest. There was a rebellion brewing on the other side of the woods (or so Varus’ advisor had told him), and he was intent on quelling it before such dangerous sentiments spread.

The terrain of Germania was unsuited to a Roman march, but Arminius, Varus’ advisor and a child of these lands was there to lead him on the proper path. A noble named Segestes from Arminius’ tribe of birth, the Cherusci, had tried to convince Varus to imprison his own advisor, claiming that Arminius was plotting against him. He dismissed the noble as a lying, envious little man. Arminius was a Roman in Varus’ eyes, reared in Roman lands and taught the Roman ways. Varus was also not a keen judge of character.

Even with Arminius to guide them, the forest made it all but impossible to march properly. The few usable trails were narrow, forcing the soldiers to march in only two or three columns at a time. Their numbers were stretched out in a line more than a dozen kilometers long in the middle of strange and hostile lands. In the event of an ambush, it would be nearly impossible for the legions to form ranks and defend themselves, precisely as intended.

Arminius left during the march with a group of Germanic auxiliaries to rally support from other tribes against the rebellion. Without him, the Romans trudged onward, hacking their way across the landscape. They at long last came to the Teutoburg Forest, amidst a fierce rainstorm. It was here that their troubles began.

A hail of javelins fell upon the legions from both sides. The legionnaires were too thinly spread and the path was too thin for them to take formation. To charge into the foliage at unseen assailants would only hasten their deaths. Their only recourse was to quicken their pace through the mud and the rain, and pray that the woods would give way to safety. The Germani continued their attacks, steadily grinding the invaders down as they marched.

Varus’ legions found only momentary reprieve when they made camp for the night. The Germani were upon them immediately as they broke to continue their march. With the rain and the savages still bearing down on them, Varus and his men came to another clearing, a place from which the fates and fortunes of humankind might be directed onto strange paths. On one side of them was a high hill bounded by earthworks, on the other an impassible bog, and on the path before them a deep trench had been dug out. It was here that Varus and his legions understood that they were well and truly doomed.

Germani swarmed down the hill and out of the woods, and more javelins sailed through the air. The legions, weary and broken, their shields soaking and useless, flailed desperately against the attackers, perhaps still clinging to the hope of survival. Those who fled fared no better, and were cut down by Germanic horsemen. Many took their own lives, knowing that survival as a slave or a sacrifice to savage gods would await them. The Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and Nineteenth Legions were no more.

Varus did manage to drag himself away from the battle to ponder his imminent demise. Did he ever recall Segestes’ warnings? Had the possibility of his loyal aide’s betrayal crossed his mind? Perhaps, or perhaps not. It didn’t matter now, because he wouldn’t live to exact his vengeance. In keeping with Roman custom, he fell on his sword before his enemies reached him.

In the wake of the massacre he stood: Arminius, the architect of the worst Roman defeat since Cannae. He was also completely aware of it, because the Romans had been gracious enough to teach him of the great battles. Arminius approached the corpse of his fallen opponent and former commander, Varus, and cut off his head as proof of his triumph to give to the other tribes, along with the Aquilae of the three lost legions. The people of many tribes had come together under his command to bring about this victory. But Tiberius and Germanicus would not allow this disgrace to go uncontested, and would cross the Rhine in force. Arminius was going to need help.



[1] Roman provincial governor. Short for Legatus Augusti pro Praetore, meaning "Envoy of the emperor, acting praetor."
[2] Roman military commander, specifically one in control of multiple legions.
[3] Calendar dated from the traditional founding date of the city of Rome, 753 BCE. The date above, for reference, corresponds to 9 CE.
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