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

“I want you alive when the time is ripe, not murdered before it. They cannot be sure of you—yet.”

He smiled. “That is true. They have not crossed my land.”

“So. They will waste time sending embassies to find out. Time—that is what I need.”

Barbatio, less plump now than when I had first met him, said anxiously, “Take care, sir. Rando will keep his word, perhaps, but the Vandals do not even trust their own shadows.”

Quintus said, “Let me come then.” There was a look of worry upon his face.

I shook my head. “Don’t worry, my friend. I will be very careful.”

He gripped my forearm. “This is a cold land to live in without your friendship to warm it,” he said quietly.

I nodded. “And for me also, without yours.”

I stepped into the boat and was rowed across. The level of the water was rising a little each day, and each day the current was becoming stronger. The time of the slack water was past.

We landed amidst a crowd of armed men who stared at me curiously but who made no threatening gestures. The Aleman king had his men well in hand. Past the outer lines of palisades, built well back from the river, past the tents, the cooking fires and the stacked spears, we mounted horses and set out along the old road that had led to the Limes. We rode along it for a mile, and on either side it was packed with tents, huts, horses and with men, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Presently we came to an inner camp, protected by a shallow ditch, built to stop horses straying, and a palisade. Inside was the Aleman king. He had not changed. He was as courteous as before, and as unyielding as an iron blade. With him was Gunderic, still smiling, but the smile was strained now and I wondered how many men he had lost in the fight on the river. The others, grouped round the council table, I did not know.

Rando said, “I have more friends to present to the General of the West: Godigisel, King of the Siling Vandals, Hermeric, King of the Marcomanni, Respendial, King of the Alans, and his cousin, Goar, a notable warrior.” A slight figure slipped quietly through the leather curtains of the hut and sat down without a word. Rando smiled warmly. “This is my last brother, Talien, King of the Quadi; a people of whom you will have heard.”

I said slowly, “You do me great honour.” They did indeed. Gathered here in this camp, with the exception of Guntiarus, were the war leaders of all the Teutonic tribes between the Rhenus, the Danubius and the steppes of the east. These were the people who, for three hundred years, from the days of Augustus to the days of Valentinian, had waged war, almost without cease, against the empire. There was hardly an emperor of Rome who had not been forced to fight them, not one legate along the Limes who in all that time had not reddened his legion’s swords with the blood of these people. How many they ruled, I did not know. How many warriors they could put into battle, I did not know. But in the days of our greatness, our confidence and our prosperity, eighty thousand men had been thought necessary to hold the Rhenus frontier against them. And I, Maximus, self-styled General of the West, had to do my poor best with a single legion.

I added, “I can only hope that the honour I do you will be worthy of a Valentinian and a Julian.” I hesitated and then turned to Talien and smiled. “For your sake I should add the name of Marcus Aurelius.” He stared at me impassively, without movement of any kind, but I thought his nostrils flared slightly at the thrust.

Rando stroked his beard. “I have no doubt but that you will do that.”

I looked at them in turn. Godigisel, King of the Siling Vandals, was short, compact and with a face like beaten iron. He was a fighter, not a man given to much thinking. Hermeric, King of the Marcomanni, was tall and lean, with the face of a hawk; and, as was customary with his people, wore his hair combed back over the side of his face and knotted. He would be as gentle as a hawk, too, if you fell into his hands. Respendial, King of the Alans, was dark, square faced and with bushy eyebrows. He had a deep, harsh voice and reminded me strongly of a bear who might stand on its legs and clap paws one minute or crush you to death the next. His cousin, Goar, was a younger man. He had good teeth still, said little, and reminded me strongly of a man I had once known in another life. Talien, King of the Quadi, was slim and lightly built. He would have made a good charioteer. He had a humorous face, or would have had if he had allowed it to relax. As it was he watched me carefully the whole time like a cat. He was, I judged, the most intelligent of them all, except Rando, and, potentially, the most dangerous.

“Well,” I said. “What may I do for you that I have not done already?”

Gunderic said, insolent as ever, “We ask you once again for leave to pass in peace across the Rhenus.”

Godigisel said flatly, “We need new lands and are willing to serve in yours.”

“As the subjects of my emperor or as the conquerors of his generals?”

“The one will ensure that you live; the other only that you die.”

“Are you all landless then?” I asked. “People without homes? Vagabonds and tramps who must steal from others in order to replace what they could not hold for themselves?”

Hermeric said, “Some of us have seen the Huns, smelt their stinking breath, felt the weight of their swords. They are barbarians in everything that they do. They are not christians like us. We are a better people; they are stronger; and all the time they press upon our borders, kill our young men, enslave our women and nibble our lands. This we have endured for years till we can endure it no longer.”

“We are farmers,” said Goar suddenly. “A farmer needs peace and patience and time in order to make a success of his land. None of this do the Huns give us.”

I did not look at him and he did not look at me and we both knew the reason why.

I said, “You are willing to unite against my emperor, it seems. It would be better to unite against these Huns.”

Respendial said, “No-one wastes time building a bridge if he can wade through the stream.”

I smiled, I who felt so little like smiling. “I will give you nothing but promises. I promise you this, that for everything you try to take without payment, you will pay twice over.”

Rando said, “For the last time, I ask that you let my brothers cross in peace. You need people to populate your lands. Gaul and Hispania are great countries. There is plenty of room for all to share their riches. Besides, you need farmers; that I know. I know, too, that you need soldiers. Already, many of our people serve in your armies, yet still you need more and more. We are all good warriors. It would be a fair bargain; and a wise one.”

“No.”

He said, “If you refuse, then this province of Gaul will learn how to weep and its suffering will be your sin.”

“I am not a christian,” I said. “Only a soldier. Which one of you planned that night attack on my camp? The Picts or the Scotti could have done better. Perhaps it was your fledgling sons to whom you entrust command of your warriors? And which of you was so foolish as to imagine he could assemble a fleet of boats in a river mouth in broad daylight, and that I would be so blind as not to see them? Perhaps you are just children, playing at warriors, or perhaps one of you is a traitor who has reasons of his own for not wishing the others to cross. Do not talk of soldiers in my presence.”

“Enough,” cried Godigisel. He clapped his hand to his sword.

“I am unarmed,” I said. “Even you could kill me now. Which one of you has lost the most men? Which one of you wishes to weaken the others?”

Rando said intently, “If what you say is true it is still our business and not yours. We can fight, I promise you.”