By Peter S. Wells
The formerly untold tale of the watershed conflict that modified the process Western history.
In advert nine, a Roman traitor led a military of barbarians who trapped after which slaughtered 3 complete Roman legions: 20,000 males, part the Roman military in Europe. If no longer for this conflict, the Roman Empire might definitely have extended to the Elbe River, and doubtless eastward into present-day Russia. yet after this defeat, the stunned Romans ended all efforts to extend past the Rhine, which turned the fastened border among Rome and Germania for the following four hundred years, and which continues to be the cultural border among Latin western Europe and Germanic critical and jap Europe today.
This interesting narrative introduces us to the foremost protagonists: the emperor Augustus, the main strong of the Caesars; his common Varus, who used to be the inaccurate guy within the improper position; and the barbarian chief Arminius, later celebrated because the first German hero. In picture aspect, in response to contemporary archaeological reveals, the writer leads the reader in the course of the dust, blood, and decimation that was once the conflict of Teutoburg wooded area.
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Additional info for The Battle That Stopped Rome: Emperor Augustus, Arminius, and the Slaughter of the Legions in the Teutoburg Forest
He couldn't believe the filthy treachery in Desmond's calm words. Actually—he could. The plan reeked of Quantrill. It was just like him to slaughter unarmed hosts while under a white flag. He would think it clever. There was the sudden clatter of gunfire from the direction of the Mahdi's palace. Gordon closed his eyes. "Ah," Desmond said. "There's the signal—" "One more thing," Gordon asked, his eyes still closed. " Desmond asked, a hint of impatience in his voice. " Desmond frowned. "No. " Gordon's eyes flew open.
I'll make it to the nigger's in time for the festivities. I hope. " Gordon knew. Desmond's right hand was in his bulging pants' pocket, no doubt resting on the grip of a pistol. Gordon smiled. " Curiously, his depression immediately lightened. Nothing like an assassination attempt, he thought, to focus your mind. " "Oh, I quite agree," Desmond said. "Quantrill's orders, of course, but they were my men. They failed though. " Gordon asked. " Desmond grinned at him. "Well, it's simple, isn't it? You're the go-between.
I'll show you what a marksman I am," someone said. It was Quantrill. There was no mistaking him for another officer. He was a short man, not much taller than Gordon. His arms and legs were lank and thin, making his bloated stomach appear even more colossal than it was. His face was red and flushed, certainly from excitement and drinking both. His eyes were bleary, his nose the size and shape of a rotten potato discarded in the field at harvest. The sight of him made Gordon sick, but his actions were even more disgusting.