Eagles at War Read Online Free PDF Page B

protest, and were each revealed to have healthy organs. The coming months, Segimundus pronounced, would be fruitful ones for their unit, and their families. Arminius’ men were delighted, and clustered around the priest, thanking him.
    Arminius used the opportunity to load the purse he’d brought with a great deal of extra coinage before he too approached. Pressing the bulging bag into Segimundus’ hand, he said, ‘I am grateful for your findings.’ More than you could imagine, he added inwardly. ‘The gods will be good to us this summer.’
    Assessing the purse’s weight, Segimundus smiled. ‘You are generous indeed, Arminius.’
    There’s no time like the present, thought Arminius. If Segimundus would be prepared to spread the word among the tribes that the gods were angry with Rome, his wish to defeat Varus’ legions could become more than a burning desire. He jerked a thumb at the diseased rams. In a low voice, he said, ‘Can your findings really be put down to the owner’s poor stockmanship?’
    Segimundus threw him a sharp glance. ‘Why do you ask?’
    ‘You seemed uncomfortable when the legate laid the blame at the farmer’s feet.’
    Segimundus indicated his acolytes and the others present with his eyes. ‘If we are to discuss the matter, I would rather some privacy. Come into the temple.’
    Arminius had been inside the shrine numerous times, yet it never failed to impress. Oil lamps on bronze stands lined the walls, filling the long, narrow interior with a golden-orange glow. As with the altar, the quality of the decoration and the statues was second to none. The grandest, a figure of Augustus, was more than twice the height of a man even without its waist-high plinth, and was reputed to be one of the most lifelike depictions of the emperor that had ever been carved. Augustus was dressed as a general, bareheaded, in an ornate cuirass, with pteryges and calf-high boots. His slight frown, direct gaze and steady jaw completed the look that the emperor was a born leader, a man capable of leading armies into battle and winning victory at any price. A god, almost.
    Scorn filled Arminius. Augustus no longer looked like that. The likeness must have been taken a generation ago. He was an old man now, and like as not needed hot stones in his bed at night to keep the winter chills away.
    It was clear that the room was empty, but Segimundus peered up and down before he was content. ‘Despite the legate’s protestations, even the least skilled farmer can raise animals that thrive. Would you not be concerned if every beast but one that you offered to the gods was unhealthy in some way?’
    ‘I would indeed,’ Arminius admitted. ‘I also fail to see how the healthiness of the last ram wipes out the ill omens that you determined from the others.’
    ‘It’s simple. It cannot.’
    Arminius took a deep breath. He had reached a fork in the road. One path would see his plan to fruition, and the other to discovery by the Romans. The only way to determine which was the right route – or the wrong – was by revealing his hand. Then it came to him that Segimundus might have the same concerns as he – for all the priest knew, he was true to Rome. Realising the irony, Arminius laughed.
    Segimundus cocked his head. ‘What’s funny?’
    ‘Here we are, dancing around each other, trying to gauge the other’s opinion, trying to see what the other really thinks.’
    ‘Is that what we’re doing?’
    ‘You know it is, Segimundus.’
    A chuckle. ‘Perhaps I do.’ He paused. ‘I wonder how the legate would react if I told him of my dream last night.’
    ‘Go on,’ said Arminius, intrigued.
    ‘I saw a golden eagle, a standard like the one each legion possesses.’ Segimundus appraised Arminius before he added, ‘It was being consumed by fire.’
    Hope stirred in Arminius’ heart. ‘That is a powerful image indeed. Was it a sign from the gods, do you think?’
    ‘I feel sure that it was. It came to me in a