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

“You are quite wrong. In this matter, my lord Bishop, whether we like it or not, we stand or fall together.”

He blinked.

I said, “I need your help and if I do not get it then I shall write to Ravenna and I shall say, in short sentences, exactly what I think.”

“You would not dare.”

“Honorius is a ruler first and a christian second. I think you will find that he prefers a pagan who does his duty to a christian who fails in his.”

He said icily, “You know the laws concerning conscription. Apply those laws if you must. Do not expect me to help. It is not my province.”

“I do not want all conscripts, as I said before.”

“Of course not. You want a willing sacrifice, is that it?”

I nodded. “Yes. Is not that what you want also?”

We measured glances for a moment.

“Are they then so afraid of me?”

“Yes,” he said. “They are; and of what you stand for.”

I said in exasperation, “In the name of—any god you choose, use your influence—tell them not to—it is all too horrible.”

“Horrible—of course. Fear is always horrible.”

“It is also contemptible.”

“To a soldier, perhaps.”

I said, stung by the tone of his voice, “I have enough to bear without that also.”

“Why should you care?” He looked at me keenly and—it was absurd, of course—for a moment it was as though he were reaching into my mind, trying to take hold of the thing I had discussed with no one in all the years that I had lived with it—that fox under my tunic.

I said, “Some of them had done this thing before ever I arrived.” I added harshly, “Not all the wounds were new.”

“No, not all.”

While we were talking we had walked slowly, almost without realising it, to the open space where the doors of the church would be. I looked across the litter of building material to a roofless temple beyond. No one would dare to enter it now, except alone and by night.

I said, “It was people who worshipped in temples like that who made the Rome of which you are now so proud.”

“It was a godless state, profane and barbarous and cruel. Not until the coming of the blessed Constantine—”

“Do not go on,” I said. “I am in no mood for a sermon.”

“Then it is your loss, not mine.”

I swung round on him angrily. “You are so certain that you are right. That, I do not mind. But I do mind that you insist on forcing your certainty upon others; forcing it upon them whether they wish it or not.”

“The truth must prevail,” he said placidly. “You do not care to be persecuted, as you term it, but it was we who suffered once, the threats of fire, of torture and of death.”

“But you were not persecuted for your faith; only for putting yourselves above the state.”

“There is a higher power.”

“Do I deny it?”

“Your so-called worship is a blasphemy in the eyes of my church. You imitate, and by imitating make a mockery of our sacred rituals.”

“My lord Bishop, the certainty of the christian is only equalled by the certainty of the Jewish people. You teach humility, I believe. You would do well to remember that to the Jews—those I have met anyway—your faith is equally—unusual.”

He smiled suddenly. “That is a point of view. Tell me, in how many gods do you believe?”

“In fewer than yourself. My god is not divided into three.”

He said, “Your wife was a christian, I think.”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “I thought so.” He hesitated as though he would say more and then fell silent.

“If your church were still persecuted,” I said, “would your people have the courage to face martyrdom for their faith?”

“I do not know. I like to think so. But—I must be honest with you—I doubt it.”

“Why?”

He said drily, “Courage, as you should know, is something all men think they have, though few in fact possess it at all. They have other qualities which they delude themselves into thinking are the attributes of courage. Do you really expect to find courage in a slave who may be branded for striking a thoughtless master? Or in a peasant who will be turned out to starve if he cannot pay his taxes? Why should you expect to find it more in a rich man’s sons who have been pampered all their lives, who live for pleasure and who are ignorant of duty?”

I said, “But your church—”

“You are thinking of our martyrs, perhaps. Of course, we had some. Though not as many, I fear, as we sometimes say. In men’s enthusiasms numbers often run away with them. You must remember that of the first Twelve, eleven deserted Him in the moment of crisis, while the other turned traitor.”

“You do not hold out much comfort.”

“Neither do you.” He smiled slightly. “You have taken our wealth to pay your men, and now you will take our young citizens also.”

“Yes. You may tell your congregation, for good measure, that I will put a special tax on those families who have men in them without thumbs.”

He said, “You are a hard man.”

“No, only a desperate one.”

“I shall not flee,” he said. “But I will bear your words in mind. Only the foolish oppose those they cannot over-rule.”

“You are a wise man.”

“No, only a bishop.”

We looked at each other.

He said, ironically, “Do you wish me to add my prayers, also? They at least are free.”

“Do not pray for me,” I said. “Pray only that we have a mild winter and that the snow does not come and the river does not turn to ice.”

X

IT WAS A fine October day when I went to my meeting with the chiefs from across the river. I did not think that there was likely to be treachery for there was little to be gained by it, but I thought it wise to take no chances. The camp guard stood to arms and the gates of Moguntiacum were closed to traffic. Two cohorts lined the banks and the cavalry ala waited on horseback by the broken bridge. It was a time to demonstrate my strength. The converted merchant ship moved out of harbour a little after dawn and patrolled the river clumsily while two centuries went ashore on the island to clear the ground, erect tents and take up positions suitable to the needs of honour and defence.

A little before midday I was rowed across in company with Quintus and Lucillius; while Barbatio, with the aquilifer and the cohort standards, followed in another boat. In a third boat were ten centurions whose armour and helmets, upon my instructions, had been carefully gilded. At the same time a boat pushed off from the other shore. The further bank was lined with a vast horde of bareheaded men, roughly dressed and carrying a motley of weapons; swords, javelins and throwing axes. Many had shields but none wore armour of any kind, it being their custom to fight naked as the saying goes. The boats landed and the two groups approached each other, each with an escort of armed men. A hundred paces apart the guard halted as I raised my hand, and I and Quintus, together with two senior tribunes, walked forward unarmed, to meet the two kings who would talk with me.

Rando, king of the Alemanni, was a tall broad-shouldered man with a red beard and only one eye, but the other made up for both in fierceness. He was the hardest looking man I had ever seen. He had a scar along the right arm and another below the left eye. Yet he had great dignity and I thought that here was a man one could talk to; a man one might fight and still respect. He was a king among eagles.

Gunderic, king of the Vandals, was blond haired and young. He smiled a lot and had beautiful teeth, but the smile was empty of emotion like the eyes above it. He had a finger missing on his sword hand and walked with the grace of a Greek athlete. He was a man any girl would have run after; but I would as soon have trusted the African leopard I saw once at the games at Arelate when I was a child.