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

I ordered the trumpeter to sound the “alert” and my men fell in outside the south wall. Stilicho, the military master of the Western Empire, was a big man, with broad shoulders, blond hair and restless blue eyes. He inspected everything. He saw the record room that had become an armoury, the adjutant’s office, now used for making arrow heads, and the accounts room in which the paymaster slept as well as worked. He visited the quarry where we dug the stones to repair the walls, and always he asked questions. He never stopped asking questions.

“How old are you? And how long have you been on the Wall?” he asked. I told him and he paused a moment and then said, abruptly, “I have heard how you defied your name-sake and lived. I have heard also how you commanded the Sixth Legion in retreat. What would you say if I told you I may have to withdraw a legion to help me in Italia?”

“If the general needs the legion then that legion is indeed needed,” I replied, carefully.

He said, “We cannot any longer fight the barbarians in the old way. In the days of the legion it was possible. Your armoured soldier was the finest in the world. But not after Adrianopolis. Valens died, but if he had lived he would never have known why he was beaten. But I know.” He smiled. “I am a barbarian myself. Can you tell me why they were beaten?”

I was silent.

“Come. It was not a question of numbers or bad leadership, though both played their part.”

“The legionaries had beaten cavalry before,” I said slowly. I was thinking of what I had read about Maharbal, Hannibal’s great cavalry commander.

“Yes,” he said. “But they had never fought cavalry who used stirrups.”

I thought for a moment. “You mean the stirrups gave them some kind of extra stability to make better use of their weapons,” I said, hesitantly.

“That’s right,” he said. “Your friend, Veronius, said you could still think like a soldier and he was right.”

“But the Sarmatians used stirrups too,” I said.

“They did, but they used their horses for skirmishes, raids and ambushes. They never charged, shoulder to shoulder, in a mass. No man on foot can stand up against that.”

I was silent. I was interested but I could not see where this was leading.

He said, “The Sixth must stay at Eburacum as a mobile force in case your heather catches fire again. The Second must stay at Rutupiae to guard the Saxon Shore. That leaves the Twentieth. They are below strength, badly led and under-paid. They have little discipline and no fighting skill. You will take over as their general. Call yourself legate in the old style if you wish. Keep the name of legion and keep the Eagle too, if it is of help. Organise them how you will. Appoint your own officers. But forget the battle drill they taught you in the old legion. You will need bows not javelins now. What I want is a field force of six thousand men, part horse, part infantry, trained and disciplined to fight masses of cavalry in the open, one moment, or build and man a line of forts the next.”

His eyes were on me and I could not look away. “How long will you give me?” I asked. I could hardly take in what he was saying.

“Be ready in a year and expect my summons after that.” He handed me a parchment. “Here is a commission, signed by the Emperor. The name has not been filled in, but I will do that before we eat.”

I said, “Does the Emperor know that I am not a christian?”

“Oh, yes. Why else do you think a man of your ability has stayed up here all these years?”

“But did he not mind, sir?”

Stilicho smiled. “I persuaded him to bend his own laws a little.”

He stayed for the midday meal, talking all the while, and then left. His last words were typical. “I will order two cloaks for you in Eburacum. It is well to assume the dignity with the power. The one always helps the other.”

I stood outside the gate and watched him go. He was the last Roman general ever to see the Wall under arms.

“We must drink to the occasion,” said Quintus. “The world is at your feet. From legate to emperor is only a step.” He gave a mock salute, but there was an anxious look in his eyes.

“Don’t be a fool,” I said, irritably, for I was nervous with excitement. “What lies did you tell him to make him do such a thing?”

“I told him the truth: that we were the only two honest men upon the Wall. He believed me. You do not lie to a man like that.”

“No,” I said.

“When will you leave?” His face was beaded with sweat.

“In two or three days.” I turned and walked slowly towards my house.

He followed, even more slowly. “I see.” His voice was expressionless.

“I want you to come with me to command the cavalry.”

I could hear his footsteps quicken. “Good,” he said, and there was joy and relief in his voice. “I always knew I could be a second Maharbal if I had the opportunity.”

Saturninus, when I told him the news, stood very still. “Will you take troops from the Wall, sir?” he said. I shook my head. “No, you are Praefectus here now. But I will take your youngest son, Fabianus, if you will let me.”