October - A.D. 9
The rain fell hard upon Publius Quinctilius Varus and his remaining men. They were exhausted and hungry, but they had to keep moving at any cost. They had to reach an open space where they could dig in and fight.
With the rain and the onset of night, the Romans could no longer see their pursuers. But they could hear them. Oh, yes. They could hear them. A sound to chill the Gods themselves.
“Use the last of the pitch to light torches, Tribune,” Varus commanded. The man obeyed without a word and within minutes a ring of fire encircled the shield wall that protected the legate, his few remaining officers, and three broken centuries.
How is it possible? Varus wondered. Three centuries left of my three legions…
Varus removed his helmet with the broken crest and looked up a
