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

From Confluentes I rode back down the road to Treverorum, and passed a night at the signal tower by the junction where the roads forked. Here the auxiliaries were digging out the ditches that straddled the road, throwing the snow up into banks to provide extra protection. It was here that, if need be, I would make my last stand, and I spent half a day surveying the ground with care. It all looked different now. The branches of the trees were loaded with snow; hillocks, rough ground and tracks had all been blotted out, erased by a dazzle of smooth white in every direction as far as one could see. Only on the road and round the signal tower was the ground stamped hard, slippery and dangerous to walk upon. Beneath the surface of the snow the earth felt like rock. I was impressed by the care that the unit took of its responsibilities. Agilio, the post commander, was only a boy, blond haired, slow thinking but reliable. His post was kept absolutely clean and tidy, the men’s weapons were in excellent condition and they knew how to use them with efficiency. They obeyed his instructions promptly and each man had a ready grasp of his duties. In the afternoon the signal fires flared and smoke rose into the clear sky. I watched the dark balls rise at irregular intervals and then Agilio came up. “You are wanted back at Moguntiacum immediately, sir.”

“Thank you.” I leaned down from my horse and looked at his eager face. “Keep the ditches clear and pray that when you see me again it is not at the head of an army.”

He flashed a smile and saluted. I rode back hard, my escort behind me, spent the night at Bingium and reached my headquarters a little after dawn. I had been in the saddle for too long and I was exhausted.

Quintus gave a sigh of relief when he saw me. “Don’t go away again,” he said. “Next time you might not be able to get back.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to look at the river. You know more about these things than I do.”

Again we stood on the bank in our scarlet cloaks, legionaries about us, tribesmen on the opposite shore; each side looking at the other curiously. “You can see better from the broken bridge,” he said. “Come on.”

We stood on the bridge and I watched the swirling water, rippling coldly beneath my feet. The water still looked clean, but every now and again a patch of water seemed to take on a dark, oily look as though grease were floating on the surface like scum. Quintus began to shiver. “It is cold,” he said. He looked at my face and said quickly, “What is it, Maximus?”

I said, “I don’t know. I am going to stay here and watch. Send a man out with food and some hot wine. I am cold too.”

A soldier brought a charcoal brazier and I warmed my hands and drank the wine and watched the water. The tribesmen were watching it intently too and it was obvious that they were excited and pleased. The patches of oily sludge increased so that the river seemed to darken slowly even as one watched it. A messenger came to say that Goar had crossed the river and was awaiting me in the camp; a second messenger came to report that the centurion on island duty had recognised the enemy war chiefs on the far bank. Hermeric, Gunderic, Respendial and Sunno were there, like me, waiting also. Presently Quintus, who could not stand the cold, came back. “Well?” he asked. He sounded as a gladiator sounds when he asks the order of the fights in which he is to take part.

I said carefully, “This, Quintus, is what a river looks like when it begins to freeze.”

We walked back to the camp and there, in her red dress and black, fur lined cloak, waiting for us outside the gate, stood Rando’s daughter, a smile upon her face. Beside her was Fabianus. “Are you happy?” she mocked. “I am. This is what my people have waited for all this time: ice and snow.”

I said, “You really hate us, don’t you? What have we done to harm you and your kind?”

“You made me a prisoner,” she said bitterly. “A prisoner and a slave. Is that not enough?”

I looked from her to Fabianus and the look on his face startled me.

“It is enough,” I said and passed on, leaving her standing in the snow, looking across the river to where her own people lay.

In camp I called a council of my officers and faced them across my table, Quintus sitting at my right hand and Goar at my left.

“Now listen carefully,” I said. “How long the river will take to freeze, I do not know. But freeze it will unless the weather changes. When the time comes I shall call in all regular cohorts from the outlying forts, leaving them in the hands of the auxiliaries. If these forts are attacked in strength, their commanders will hold them as long as possible, then fire their camps and withdraw on the thirtieth milestone as best they can. The legion will concentrate here, and it will fight here. The galleys have been ordered to patrol the river in an effort to keep the main channel clear, and island commanders are to use ballistae to break up the ice as long as possible.”

“What about the Bingium bridge, sir?”

“Scudilio will burn it the moment his outpost on the further bank is driven in. Signal post sections are to move on their nearest forts the moment a general attack takes place on their area. General Veronius has their disposition details arranged. The road to Bingium, however, is to be kept manned and open. Is that clear?”

Goar dug his nails into the palms of his hands and then slowly relaxed them. I noticed the movement but I said nothing. There was something wrong, but he would tell me in his own time.

He said, “What do you want me to do?”

“Attack them in the flank the moment they start to cross. Go for the baggage and the supplies. Without food and fuel they will die in the cold. If we cannot stop them, then cross the river yourself, wherever you are, and join up with me between Bingium and Moguntiacum.”

He hesitated. He said, “It is better that you know everything.”

“Well?”

“The Burgundians wish to cross to the west bank, too, and the main force of the Alemanni intend to cross at Borbetomagus.”

“How do you know?”

“I have friends still in all camps. Besides, Sunno is afraid for his sister.”

“Will they move with the Vandals?”

“Perhaps. Probably later. The Vandals are the most restless. They talk of seeking a land that is hot and where the sun is always shining. The Alemanni wish only for control of the west bank.”

Quintus said, “That makes the odds heavy indeed.”

I said, “I have written to the Praefectus Praetorio at Arelate. He has promised to send troops.” Quintus raised his eyebrows at this, but I outstared him. “How many?” asked Fabianus excitedly.

“Will they come in time, sir?” asked Aquila bluntly.

Goar dropped his eyes. “Then Stilicho has kept his promise.”

I said gently, “Rome does not forget her generals.” I looked at Quintus, but he was looking at Goar, now staring blankly at the wall. I said, “There is something on your mind? What is it?”

Goar said, “Because of the Alemanni and the Burgundians, I cannot cross the river. I cannot abandon my people. But I will fight on the east bank for as long as I can. That I promise you.”

Fabianus said nervously, “You said, sir, you would kill Rando’s daughter if the Alemanni crossed. Will you still do so?”

I stared at him. I said, “I give the orders; you obey them.”

I turned round. “Aquila.” He nodded and went to the door and shouted. There was a pause and the aquilifer entered, carrying the Eagle. It was of bronze, clean and shining and worn smooth with much polishing; now it had been freshly gilded and it glowed in the lamplight. I said, “A soldier can commit only two sins: desertion and cowardice. Those I have never tolerated, nor will I now. Any one who wishes to be released from his oath must ask to be released now or not at all.” I smiled as no one moved. I said, “I am not an emperor, nor shall ever be one. I am content to command the Twentieth. I make no promises; I tell no lies.” I held up my hand. “But, before the Eagle, there is only death or victory. In this matter we are at one with the gladiators in the arena, and I am glad that it shall be so.”