Click here to buy this book! Kindle Edition Download to your Nook (eBook) Download from Apple iTunes (eBook) Download from Smashwords (eBook) Amazon Lulu Barnes & Noble.com Novels by William Wallingg Category:  Historical Fiction Publisher: Virtualbookworm.com, Inc. Publishing, Inc. ISBN-10:  1602648565 Type: Fiction Pages: 405 Copyright: Copyright 2011 William Walling ISBN-13: 9781602648562 Price: $9.99 (eBook) Very early in the First Century, three entire Roman legions, plus auxiliaries, cavalry, and camp followers were ambushed by a coalition of proto-Germanic tribal warriors and totally destroyed in a days-long battle that probably changed the course of ancient European history. Arminius was the name by which Roman scribes of that era identified the tribal leader, and this is a biography of his early years. A barbarian tribal princeling who became an auxiliary Roman Legionary, later a Roman citizen and full-fledged Legioary, and later still was appointed to the social rank of Roman a equestrian knight, in year nine of the Common Era Arminius, as the Romans dubbed him, led a vast, loosely organized army of warriors selected from his own and other tribes dwelling in Germania Magna, to victory in a famous battle that annihilated three entire Roman legions. Certain contemporary historians revere this distant figure from the shadows of European antiquity as a culture hero, the defender of the culture from which he sprang, while others consider him "The noble savage gone wrong." This tale of Imperial Rome and ancient Germanorum centers on the early life and career of Arminius, or Hermann der Cheruska, a princeling of the Cherusci, who's actial tribal name is unknown. The victory over three of his legions made Caesar Augustus leery of resuming the conquest of a vast territorium extending from the Rhine in the west to the Elbe in the east, and transforming the entire region north of the Alps to the North See one or more Roman provinces. Unfortunately, what little is known of the man himself derives entirely from sketchy surviving portions of Roman literature, the works of historians naturally biased in favor of their own culture.                 Excerpt INCIPIT LIBER PRIMVS GERMANIA INFERIOR AB VRBE CONDITA DCCLXII I Farther Germania, in Rome’s traditional 762nd year (9 CE) Wind-driven rain fell slaunchwise from the rogue advance guard of big-bellied thunderheads marching above a plain that stretched northward all the way to Ocean. Fork-tongued lightning flickered in a somber sky, orchestrated by grumbling tympani householders acting as blood priests in the Sacred Grove liked to call “Donnar’s voice of anger.” Sun dazzle peeked between towering cloud anvils, sheening brakes of larch and alder that dripped from every leaf. Lush with rain-glossed greenery, a shallow slope fell away beneath the hillside vantage where two watchers kept a lonely vigil. Weary and footsore from standing in place hour after hour, Flavus shuffled his feet often to relieve the discomfort. Chafing in silence, he idly fingered the hilt of his sword, turning now and again to glance back at the motionless figure rearing two paces behind him. His uncle looked as if he were standing at ease. Flavus knew better; he radiated tension electric as the weather. Silhouetted against the tempestuous late-morning sky, his uncle’s muscular forearm was draped atop the legionary buckler he never went anywhere without; the loosely held Roman javelin in his other hand was canted outward in a sentinel’s classic stance, its shaft butted against a scuffed, muddied legionary sandal. Moisture clung to his uncle’s copper-blond mane and beard; a wolfskin cape beaded with water droplets shrouded his massive torso; the fixed gaze of his iceblue eyes never strayed from a gap in the treetops framing a saddle in the low hills, where the river meandered northward through a gently curving valley Flavus lifted resentful eyes to the storm clouds convening overhead. The wind had picked up in strength, promising a wet, blustery afternoon, and their mounts, tethered out of sight beyond the hillcrest, were growing restive due to the growls and rolls of not too distant thunder. Mistrusting his runty, ill-mannered colt, Flavus grimaced when it nickered softly. Skittish even as a foal, the small horse tended to shy at shadows, and bucked when it was least expected. Another late-summer shower raked the hillside. Drenched, footsore and bored to the verge of insensibility, Flavus swung about and searched his uncle’s stolid countenance. He cleared his throat in an overly loud manner, waited for a reaction that never came, then hawked irritably and spat into the humus underfoot. “Any sign of them?” “Soon, I think,” muttered Arminius. “You said that a while ago.” “And may say it again. You’d do well to learn patience, Flavus.” Disgruntlement creased the youth’s high, summer-tanned forehead. He folded his arms and resolutely faced front, wondering if he would ever conquer an instinctive aversion to the name he’d chosen for himself. Rolling the syllables around in his mind, he examined their flavor, their texture –– Fla-vus. For some reason his acquired name echoed falsely when his uncle pronounced it in the manner of a Römanischer. After months of soul-searching, he had succumbed to the counsel of relatives and close friends and adopted a new name. The weighty decision had been made in late spring of the previous year, while accompanying Arminius and Papa Inguiomerus on a conspiratorial, rabblerousing journey through the Völkerschaften lands of the Chatti, Marsi and Ubii. In the wake of endless conferences with nobles and elders who held themselves in godlike self-esteem, looked down upon by suspicious Hunni who led their respective warrior Hundertschaften, and invariably nay-said by uppity Wehrmanner who thought it their birthright to sustain a deep, abiding mistrust of strangers daring to propose anything new and untried, the threesome had journeyed southwestward instead of returning directly to the Cheruscan demesne. Making an impromptu holiday of the leisurely junket, they had crossed the multi-channeled Rhine on a series of military pontoon bridges downstream from the lesser Roman garrison of Durnomagus, and thence upriver to Ara Ubiorum, a moderate-sized Ubii settlement that coexisted on the river’s western bank with the major Roman fortress of Apud Aram. Visiting Ubiorum had doubled Flavus’ hunger to learn more about the wide world

Arminius
Review ARMINIVS, December, 2011
by Sly80, Harper Collins Authonomy
The author of STONEFISH 

With the pitch and the foreword, we are instantly reassured we are in safe hands, in both the historical authenticity of the work and the art of the penmanship. You end the Foreword with two cunningly crafted lines that launch us into Chapter 1. Here, in addition to the narration, the conversation between 'Flavus' and his uncle tells us a great deal about the Romans, and their military structures and strategies, as well as something of their politics. We sympathise with their misery as the two men watch and wait in the downpour, and then share their jubilation as they realise they will be able to mount a successful attack.

The language manages to suit the time and the mixed cultures without becoming archaic or obscure. In fact, it is wonderful prose: 'he radiated tension electric as the weather', 'opening up slowly, a slice at a time', 'the talons of the birds we seek are sunk in mud'.

All those admirers of historical fiction, and especially enthusiasts for the history of Europe during Roman times, will find this a feast of a novel. There's the genuine history (I learnt a great deal from reading just a couple of chapters); a marvellous character in Arminius, fully fleshed out from the scattered historical sources; and a series of his remarkable adventures from youth onwards - exciting fiction based on fact. This will get a high star rating and a place on my shortlist for backing.