Publius Quinctilius Varus was born into an old patrician family, but one which had never possessed much clout or influence. Indeed, the days of the Quinctili Vari had never burned bright and the future promised similar languishing mediocrity. When the first of the Civil Wars began Publius’ father Sextus remained a proud Republican, one who wished to return to the old ways of Roman governance and accountability, when no man stood above the law. Sextus may have even been involved directly in the plot to assassinate the very man who had laughed in the face of Roman republicanism, Gaius Julius Caesar, who was killed on March 15, 44 BC. It is not known the extent of Sextus’ involvement in the resulting war which ensued between Caesar’s assassins, Brutus and Cassius, the Liberatores, and the Caesareans, led by Octavian and Mark Antony. What we do know is the future of the Roman state was at the forefront of his thoughts and was a near-constant source of anxiety. After Octavian and Mark Antony’s victory at Phillippi sealed Rome’s fate and ended any hopes of a return to republicanism, Sextus committed suicide. In doing so, he left a four-year-old Publius fatherless.
The details of Publius’ adolescence are practically unknown. Yet many facts can be reasonably guessed. Sextus, having backed the unsuccessful Liberatores against the Optimates probably tainted the name and reputation of his already lowly family even further. Young Publius was no popular figure, and seemed destined, as all Vari seemed to be, to a life of mediocrity. Perhaps to spite his dead father or maybe just a reaction to the much-changed political situation Publius became a supporter of Octavian, the newly crowned Emperor Augustus. Slowly he inched his way into the new ruling family’s inner circle. Eventually he struck up a budding friendship with Octavian’s stepson, Tiberius. In doing so he also guaranteed the success of his political career.
Publius’ first major appointment came in 8 BC when he was given the governorship of the Roman province of Africa. A year later he was moved east to govern Syria, where his rule was typified by harsh treatment of the native peoples and high taxes. The most infamous moment in Publius’ tenure came in 4 BC, when after recapturing Jerusalem from Jewish rebels he had two thousand Jews crucified. For the next few years his rule from Antioch passed uneventfully. Then in 7 AD Publius was given a new appointment. He was to be the first governor of a new province created by the campaigns of his childhood friend Tiberius, in a place called Germania. While Publius had been cracking down on Messianic revolts, Tiberius had been turning the forsaken wildernesses on the frontiers of the empire into Roman terra firma.
Publius reached the province just as Tiberius was leaving it. A great revolt had broken out in Illyria. Tiberius was on orders from the Emperor himself to deal with the problem. As he left Tiberius took with him eight of the eleven legions in Germania, significantly reducing Rome’s ability to project power in the region. No matter, Varus was assured Tiberius had thoroughly crushed the Germans' will to resist. The tribes already subjugated would remain so and the others would fall in line without too much trouble. Three legions would be more than enough to deal with what little fight the barbarians had left.
Not long after arriving in Germania the new governor met with his subordinates, a few who were native Germans loyal to Rome. One of his advisors was the son of the chieftain of the powerful Cherusci tribe. His name was Arminius.
What do we know about this character? Shrouded by the veil of time, very little is certain. We do know that indeed, Arminius’ father was the leader of the powerful Cherusci tribe, and that he allied with Rome, probably less out of willingness than necessity. His sons, Arminius and Flavus, left the tribe at a young age to serve as auxiliary cavalrymen in Rome’s service in 1 AD. Both sons would go on to earn commendable combat records. Not much else is set in stone, but much more can be inferred through what is absent from the historical record. Roman historians were never afraid to show prejudice and disparage their enemies, deservedly or not, and were quick to point out their flaws. Thus, sometimes, omission speaks as loudly as admission. Nowhere in the historical record does Arminius possess any particular vice or seem prone to acts of debauchery or licentiousness. In fact, Arminius, who would soon bring great woe upon Rome, is seldomly scorned. Even Tacitus, who was no fan of the Germanic peoples, begrudgingly admitted his talents. The greatest compliment a Roman could give a man from another race was that they possessed the same qualities that Romans themselves were proud of. And indeed, in his unceasing determination and his unmatched stubbornness, Arminius was as Roman as they came.
