The First Voices: Teutoburg Forest (Part 2)

 




Image: A Suebian warrior, closely resembling how I saw this man. Another depiction of Germanic warriors and their equipment, along with two images of a typical Germanic warriors garb. First image is from Caminando por la Historia, the rest were taken by myself at the Varruschlacht. 

The prompting came to me as I approached the German defenses: “You should ask to talk to them.” It felt valid, as I felt strange, experiencing distant feelings that felt not quite my own. Perhaps there was something here that wanted to talk, like with Ignatius in Mainz. So I addressed them similarly as I did in the Roman graveyard in Mainz. “If anyone wants to talk about their experience, or relate anything at all, I am here. I am open, and I am listening. You can talk to me however you can, by feeling, words, or sight. You could even show yourself, if you want. But I am not here to take pictures, or video, or capture you somehow. I am one who wants to know you, and to know better your experiences and what happened here. I too am a soldier, and maybe there are some things I can understand better than others, as well. I am listening.”

For a moment I did not feel much, and again I felt silly for doing it, but I felt the peace and calm of the spirit, and it constrained me to be still and to listen. So just behind one of the recreated Germanic earthen walls, I did. I felt the spirit strongly. The voice and feeling of the spirit was strong and clear. The other difference I noticed was that I almost had trouble hearing the voices. Not because of something personal, but because there were so many. After I made that invitation, I could feel them around me. Dozens of spirits, some moving, some not. There was not a lot of speaking, but mixed, taciturn emotions. The best way I can describe it is like a distant stormy sea, so many things, emotions, overlapping, rising then falling over each other. I could feel them all though, stronger now. Fear, anger, pain, sadness, homesickness, desperation, a longing to be somewhere else, anywhere else but here. It was hard to understand; it’s as if it was taking time to listen to the words through the noise, to find someone to talk to. Like wandering a mist or fog, perhaps, is the best way I can describe it.

But then I felt one, standing just to my front and right. There were others, as I said; I could feel them watching me. I felt very much that I had brought attention to myself, and they were watching but not speaking. This one though, somehow I knew he was German, and a man. I heard a man’s voice in my mind. He greeted me, and somehow I could discern he was not as sad as the others. He seemed… lighter somehow. Like more friendly, more at peace. He was not as distressed. I will do my best to relate the conversation as it happened. I will also say, perhaps part of the reason I did not feel these as strong was because I did feel slightly distracted. There were other people walking about and I felt self-conscious (maybe even a little crazy), and I was just standing there, staring. So I perhaps was not as focused as I could have been. I truly felt in a different state of mind. Not quite a trance, dream-like almost.

Anyway, he spoke to me. “I died here, my body lay behind the wall. I was here because we fought for glory, and for independence. My name is…” For reasons unclear to me, I struggled to understand his name, similarly as I did at first with Ignatius. I knew a few ancient Germanic names, and when I tried, again, almost as a subconscious reflex to insert them, I felt constrained by the spirit that they were incorrect.

“We could not allow the Romans to take our lands, and so I died here, for glory and freedom. But truly that is what the Chiefs fought for, glory. Not a great thing, really, to die for. They were more worried about power and reputation. But not entirely so for me. I believed in Arminius’s words. I saw him, you know. He walked here, right where you stand, as he supervised the battlement creation. He spoke to us before the battle. It gave me great hope that we could keep the invader away forever, that we all could be left alone to live how we saw fit. But, instead, I died here. I never got to see any of the rest of it. I was atop the wall, behind the wicker wall, stabbing down at the Romans who were trying to break out into the forest. One of them stabbed me in the stomach. I fell to the ground and slid down to the bottom of the earthwork. I bled to death from my wound. The battle was in a fever pitch; everyone was so involved in the fighting. Many won’t talk to you here because they are unhappy. There are many of us here still. Our bones lost or scattered across the battlefield. Many are unhappy with how things happened. Some may speak, though. I do not feel quite as they do. I am sad I was one of the very few of the tribesmen to die. I wish I could have lived to see the victory and lived my life as the others did. But they did take my body back to my family and buried me among my kin, which made me very happy. I feel glad I died for such a cause, in defense of my people, and was buried in my true home. Many did not get that here, and that is why they are sad. Try speaking to the others, and they may answer.”

He stopped speaking. As he spoke to me, images entered my mind’s eye. I saw him with blonde hair, tied in a Suebian knot towards the front of his head. He was wearing simple linen or woolen garments of a tan color, a simple shirt and pants and leather shoes, no cloak. He was gripping his stomach, slightly to the left of his center abdomen, bleeding through his fingers and writhing on the ground as others around him seemed too preoccupied with fighting to help him. I saw him get stabbed by a Roman with a spear who was scrambling up the embankment. There was tons of fighting, and objects flying through the air. Germans were scrambling quickly behind the wall to fill gaps the dead made on the wall. It was almost as if it all felt so delicate, like if I asked something I would somehow interrupt what the spirit was there to say. Again, I felt this great calm of the spirit, which contrasted with the sad emotions of panic and chaos I was feeling from the spirits all around me.

The first voice has come through the veil, a German warrior more at peace than the others. But he is not the only one there. Follow the blog for the next installment to hear from a spirit with a very different story: a Roman soldier, lost and far from home.

Location: 49565 Bramsche-Kalkriese, Germany

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