Wallace Breem - Eagle in the Snow - A Novel of General Maximus and Rome's Last Stand

I broke the seals and read the message through twice to make certain that I understood it properly. “The Alemanni have sent an ambassador across the river. Their king, Rando, wishes a meeting to discuss certain matters.”

“On the east bank, I suppose, preceded by a feast and with girls of his tribe to entertain us,” said Quintus, sardonically.

“I wonder what he wants. It is curious that. The Alemanni must have moved north.”

“You are not going to see him, surely? It may be a trap.”

“I must. I want to know his intentions.”

“Those. I thought they were obvious enough.”

“Too obvious, perhaps. I shall arrange a meeting on one of the islands off Moguntiacum.”

“That should be interesting. My cavalry will then be of great help to you if we are attacked.”

“I am glad you said we.”

He laughed and began to unlace his riding boots. “I have never seen a king of the Germans. I am curious to know what he will be like.”

That afternoon I went down to the dockyard to see Gallus. Our converted ship was out in mid-stream and, judging by the oar splashes, was being used for training new rowers. Quintus remarked, sadly, that they were only good for frightening swans, and I was inclined to agree with him. On the hard, men were at work building the new warships. The keels of three ships had been laid and carpenters were busy fitting the stern posts onto one, the ribs onto another and the planking onto a third. The fourth ship was near completion. The air reeked as the craftsmen caulked its planks with tarred rope, while a group of half-naked men, who only a month before had been jobless, wrestled to fit the two rudders into position. One group were sawing poles into oar lengths while another planed the surface of the blades; after which they were carefully oiled by a boy and an old man and then leaned against a shed to dry in the sun.

Gallus said cheerfully, “I think it will be all right this time, sir. We are working to the original plans of the old Rhenus fleet. I sent a man down to Colonia and the Curator there found them for me in the naval records section.”

“What’s this?” Quintus asked, pointing at a huge block of oak that was being rubbed down by two boys.

“That’s to set the mast in, sir. It’s a good thing we were able to get plenty of seasoned timber. We’re short of decent rope though, but they’ve promised to send some up from Colonia. It should arrive by the end of the week.”

“What about armaments?” I asked.

“She’ll have one light ballista in the bows that will fire up to three hundred yards, and one small carroballista in the stem. But oarsmen are the real trouble.”

“What crew do you need? I told the Curator twelve hundred. Was that correct?”

“Nearly, sir, Two hundred and twenty, including archers, to each ship. Of those a hundred and fifty will be oarsmen, arranged for seating in twenty five banks of threes. That makes a total of thirteen hundred without reserves. We shall have to allow for sickness, injury and other things.”

“And you’ve had no more recruits?”

Gallus rubbed his nose irritably. “Those are my recruits; the crew out there, splashing away unhappily. Most of them wish they had never joined.”

“A pity we can’t use slaves, isn’t it?”

He looked shocked. “Slaves, sir. We couldn’t do that.”

“I know. I suppose not.”

Quintus said, “But why not? It’s been done before.”

“In the fleet, sir? Only free men are allowed in the imperial navy.”

Quintus picked up a lantern and began to play with it. “Yes, precisely—free men or freedmen.” He put the lantern down onto a pile of planks. “If my memory serves me, I seem to remember reading in one of these tedious books of Appian that Augustus Caesar—but he was Octavius then—enlisted twenty thousand slaves for his campaigns against Pompey’s son.”

I frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. He freed them first and then asked for volunteers.”

“Well, that’s the answer then.”

He smiled. “It’s a good thing someone reads your books.”

Gallus said, “But could we get enough slaves without running into trouble with their owners. The ones you see in the Treverorum market are poor quality as a rule.”

Quintus said, drily, “We shall need an edict, signed by the Praefectus, of course.”

“I doubt it,” I said to Gallus. “But we could get convicts. Yes, Quintus, the Praefectus Praetorio will have to authorise it. I’ll write to him. They’ll have to be paid though, and fed and clothed.”

“Up go the taxes, sir,” said Gallus with a grin.

“How soon will the ships be ready?”

“In thirty days, sir.”

I swore.

“You wanted them to impress the Alemanni,” said Quintus.

“It would have helped.”

“We can manage without them.” Quintus smiled at Gallus. “They can be a surprise for later. Tell me, have you tried out your liquid fire yet?”

I sent a message to the Bishop’s house but he was not there, and I learned he was on the site of a church in the temple district. I rode out to find him and I noticed that the women, fetching water from the public fountains, paused in their work and drew back as I passed by. It was quiet away from the shops, and grass grew between the cracks in the paving stones that made the road. Everything was shabby, neglected and desolate. When I arrived Mauritius was watching a group of masons at work, fitting chips of coloured glass into a corner of a vast mosaic pattern which had been outlined on the floor in the centre of the nave. As usual he was talking, giving instructions as to the way the patterns must flow one into the other. I had never heard him be so eloquent or so sensible. But then I did not attend his sermons.

He nodded to me as I walked out of the sunlight into the dust. “Have you come to be converted?” There was no sting in his voice and I wondered if he had thought it wise to declare a truce. He had his church and the emperor behind him; but I had Stilicho.

“May I speak to you here or outside?” I asked.

“Why not here? He will hear us just as well as in the open.”

“I have seen Septimus.”

“And?”

“You have a saying, I believe, my lord Bishop, which is of great comfort to those who wish to avoid trouble.”

His eyes narrowed. “To what do you refer?”

I said, “‘If they persecute you in one city, then flee to another.’”

He said, “It is easy to twist words, to distort meanings.”

“It is,” I said. “But, more important than that, is that what you believe?”

“It would depend on the circumstances,” he said cautiously.

“You know very well the circumstances. This city is in no small danger. I need men for the army to avert that danger. If I do not get volunteers then I must use the law to conscript them. Even so, I need some volunteers.”

“And you expect me to help you in this task?”

“Why not? Or do you prefer that those who believe in a heresy should rule your land and celebrate their heresy in your church?”

“I do not say that. You are trying to trap me,” he said in anger.

“If you refuse to help then I may trap you. The bishops in council might not see your refusal to assist as true zeal for the defence of your faith.”

He flushed. He said, “You would pit your influence against mine. How dare you suggest that I do not know my duty.”

I said, “It is not I who will do the suggesting, my lord Bishop. Honorius is a true son of your faith: would he wish to see such heresy spread further? He is also an emperor: would he wish to lose a whole province?”

“Your problems are not mine.” He spoke coldly but there was a note of anxiety in his voice.