Teutoburg Forest, Roman Empire

It is 9 CE, and Augustus’ legions are campaigning north of the Rhine, fighting in the deep, misty forests of Germania. Here, they try to subdue the local tribes and bring Roman rule to this strange, barbarous land. But the Germans resist, the many tribes fight ferociously, their chieftains jealously guard their freedom.

Among the Roman troops are German auxiliaries, local men looking to earn the rewards of fighting in the Roman army, and among these Germans is a prince of the Cherusci tribe. He is named Hermann, but is called Arminius by his Latin comrades. After a youth spent as a hostage in Rome, he has got to know the Romans intimately, even gaining Roman citizenship. But, as the years of service to these invaders and outlanders wears on, his resentment grows.

Arminius has told his commander, Lucius Quintillius Varus, that rebellion is brewing north of the Roman positions in south-western Germania. He has convinced him to take three legions, or about 20,000 men, to put it down. Varus has total confidence in an easy victory, he sees the Germans as savages who cannot ever hope to stand against a well-armed and disciplined Roman legion. He takes his men deep into the forests, through bogs and swamps. He is being watched. 

A horn sounds, and suddenly the trees are ablaze. Hordes of German warriors appear, as if from nowhere. It is a tribal confederation thousands strong. Cherusci warriors, with intimate knowledge of Roman tactics, are joined by Bructeri, Marsi, Sicambri, united in hatred for the invaders.

The Roman line is spread out over miles and miles of territory, and the Germans seem to know exactly where to strike, and always at exactly the right time.. Underarmed and carrying with it a long and heavy baggage train, it is slow and vulnerable; the Roman war machine has exposed its soft underbelly.

For days, the Germans hit the Roman troops, and thousands of legions are cut down. Those that are captured are sacrificed in the weird rites of strange gods. A few stragglers make it back to Roman lines to report the disaster.

Arminius has always been loyal to his tribe; he has provided the Germans with the Roman positions and marching orders. Now he leads the attack against his former comrades. He watches with grim satisfaction as Rome is humbled. As Varus the invader meets his fate, lying dead, face down in the German soil, Arminius has taught the Romans a valuable lesson.

The news finds its way back to Rome. Emperor Augustus, now 72 years old, and all the senators and dignitaries around him are in disbelief. Throughout the city streets, the awful wailing of mourning mothers fills the air. 

Augustus has promised the Roman people an Empire without limit, but the gods are quick to punish hubris. The forests of Germania have swallowed up 20,000 good Roman sons, and the old emperor, impotently furious, calls out to a dead man.

‘Varus! Quintilius Varus, give me back my legions!

Arminius has fixed the Roman border at the Rhine. There will be punitive expeditions led against the Cherusci, and the tribe will eventually be crushed, but Rome never expands past this frontier. Now the people of Germania will lie beyond Rome's grasp. They will exist on their uneasy frontiers, sometimes at peace, other times at war, for the next few centuries. Later, they will spill over Rome's borders and threaten the nature of the Roman world. But that's another story for another day.