Eagles at War Read Online Free PDF

their appearance. In general, priests paid them scant attention, moving on to the most important organ, the liver. Its location, under the ribcage, snug against the diaphragm, was harder to access than the rest of the belly’s contents.
    Segimundus hadn’t had time to do that, however. He kneeled back on his haunches and gazed at his audience. ‘I see signs of disease in the intestines,’ he pronounced.
    An unhappy Ahhhhh rose from the officers.
    Despite his lack of belief in augury, Arminius’ heart beat a little faster. The rapt expressions on Osbert’s and the others’ faces told their own story. Although he was from another part of the tribe, Segimundus was also Cheruscan, which meant they placed great store by his words.
    As Segimundus resumed his examination of the ram’s insides, the legate strode up to the altar. A calm type in normal circumstances, he now looked rather irritated. ‘Hades below, Segimundus, how can this be? For one ram, even two, to be unhealthy would be one thing, but all of them?’
    ‘I can but tell you what I find,’ replied Segimundus in a grave voice. ‘See for yourself.’
    ‘I hope – and anticipate – that this beast’s liver will prove to be unblemished,’ said the legate, breaking with custom and peering over Segimundus’ shoulder.
    Segimundus worked his blade to and fro; then he raised a bloodied hand high. On his palm sat a glistening, swollen lump of tissue. The legate started, recoiled. There were cries of dismay from the officers. Arminius blinked. Instead of the normal deep purple-red colour, the liver in Segimundus’ grip had a mottled, pale-pink appearance. Only a liar – or a madman – could claim it to be normal.
    ‘What does this mean?’ demanded the legate.
    ‘I cannot be sure,’ replied Segimundus, ‘but it does not augur well for the emperor, the gods preserve him forever. Or perhaps it’s his empire which is at risk.’
    The legate’s expression grew combative. ‘Bullshit! I say that these rams come from the worst flock for a hundred miles. Kill another. Keep killing until you find me one with a healthy liver.’
    ‘As you command, legate.’ Segimundus bowed his head. ‘Bring the next one forward.’
    Arminius eyed the gathered officers and legionaries. Although the legate’s attempt at reassurance had settled them, many still looked unhappy. When the next ram’s liver also proved to be diseased, and the next, their disquiet grew ever plainer. Arminius could see from his own men’s faces that they too were placing weight on Segimundus’ findings. A small part of him felt the same way. What were the chances of so many rams being unhealthy?
    Segimundus declared the omens from the final sacrifice to be good, but that wasn’t enough for the enterprising legate. He summoned the farmer who’d sold the sacrificed beasts to his officers. Seeing the man, Arminius’ rational side overpowered his nascent superstition. Ill-dressed, filthy and as scrawny as a plucked chicken, he looked a poor stockman from head to toe. As the legate humiliated the farmer by loudly accusing him of providing his officers with poor-quality beasts, the mood lightened.
    Yet Segimundus’ face remained troubled, and a flash of inspiration struck Arminius. His own kind were as superstitious as the Romans. What better way had he of winning tribes to his cause than to relate what had happened here? To make the story convincing in its entirety, he only had to leave out the farmer, and the last, healthy ram. This, this was the sign he’d needed. Thank you, great Donar, he thought. It would be useful to sound out Segimundus too. He had always been loyal to Rome and, by tradition, his section of the Cherusci tribe did not get on with Arminius’, but his support – if Arminius could get it – would prove useful indeed.
    Arminius’ certainty that the time was ripe to act solidified further as the rams brought by him and his men were sacrificed. The three beasts died without