Eagle in the Snow: A Novel of General Maximus and Rome's Last Stand

I studied the map. The enemy were south of Moguntiacum and the road to Divodurum and Treverorum was open to them. It was not a good road. It would be bad for waggons, for old men and young children; but it would serve for war bands on horses, and they had horses, I knew; for they had used them against us. They were to the north of our position as well, and though the river bank was thickly wooded and it would take time, yet they would get through and could cut the road to Bingium behind us. They might already have done so. There had been no news from Didius on the east bank at all, and no news from Goar for five days; yet his men were experienced at slipping through the enemy lines.

The tent door was thrust open and one of Quintus’ troopers stood to attention before me. “The centuries you stationed along the Bingium road are being attacked, sir. The Marcomanni crossed the river last night.”

“How many?”

“About five thousand, sir.”

I blinked. “Is there any news from Goar and his Alans? What about the cavalry I sent across the river?”

“I don’t know anything about the Alans, sir, but the last news we had of the cavalry under the tribune, Didius, was that they were holding their ground.”

“When was that?”

“Two days ago, sir.”

“When you left, was there any movement on the road to the north-west?”

“No, sir, but the last patrol sent out came in three hours ago.”

“And you left, when?”

“An hour ago, sir. I would have been here sooner, but my horse went lame on the ice.”

Quintus raised his head. “You had better do something about him then.”

“Yes, sir.” He saluted and went out.

I turned back to the map. Goar had been unable to hold them. I was not surprised. We had barely been able to hold them ourselves. Probably, by this time, the cavalry units on the far bank had been annihilated as those centuries would be, too, if I didn’t send them help. The others stood quite still, with expressionless faces, waiting for me to speak. I stared up at them and I tried to smile. They were waiting patiently for me to produce a miracle, and I could not do so. If I pulled back half the legion to control the road I might still hold them here, for a while, but I should have extended my lines too far and they would be bound to break through in the end. They had so many more men, and they could build up an attack at any point they chose. The answer lay in one simple statement: we had failed to contain them.

I knew then that we were beaten. Now, I never would visit Rome; I never would see the theatre of Pompey, the great statue of Trajan and the arch of Constantine upon which my father had scratched his name when a small boy. I never would see that city which I had loved all my life. Perhaps, like all my hopes, it too was only a dream.

I said, “Order Fabianus to abandon Moguntiacum as arranged, but tell him to make contact with Borbetomagus first and let them know. When the message has been passed, the garrisons of the signal towers are to fall back on their nearest point of safety. Prepare to strike camp here and be ready to move upon my orders. Quintus, send an ala now to help those two wretched centuries. When we march, the waggons are to be in the middle with all the stores and wounded. We shall withdraw on Bingium and hold the line of the Nava there. Inform Bingium of this and tell Confluentes, Salisio and Boudobrigo to withdraw on the thirtieth milestone. Order the garrison at Treverorum to meet them there and await further instructions; and tell Flavius, too, to warn the Bishop and the Council.”

“It will cause a panic in the city,” said Quintus.

“Of course. This is a retreat, not a strategic withdrawal. Now don’t worry.” I tried to force a smile and look cheerful. “Everything will still be all right if we keep our heads. You and I, Quintus, have fought on the defensive before.”

I motioned Aquila to remain as the others went out. Quintus gave me a long look as he departed. I knew what he was thinking.

“When we pull out I shall leave a small force to hold the palisades here; men with horses. I don’t want the enemy to know we have withdrawn until the last possible moment. Do you understand?”

He nodded. He said, “They’ll guess, from the lack of numbers.”

“Not if we use our heads. There is an old trick, used once by Spartacus, that might help.”

At first he looked shocked and tried to protest. I said, “Aquila, I am not a christian. Yet these things should not matter to you, though they are of great importance to those of my faith. Do you not believe that the soul is more important than the body?”

He bit his lip hard and then saluted me. “I will see that your orders are carried out,” he said carefully.

A few minutes later Quintus came back. “Maximus, I’m worried about water, especially for the horses. If the ice is as thick on the Nava as it is here—”

“We can’t carry it with us—very little anyway.” I rubbed my eyes. “Use your judgement, Quintus. Do whatever seems best.”

He nodded. “Of course. But I thought you had better know.”