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

We said our farewells inside my residence and then, alone, I stood and looked at the shrine that had meant so much to Aelia and wondered, for a moment, if what she had said had been true, and that I would see her again, and that this long, intolerable ache was, indeed, only the symptom of a temporary parting. Then I went out into the sun and inspected my men for the last time.

Outside the south gate Quintus was waiting with a group of horsemen. He and Saturninus gave each other a long look. They had never been friends. There had been a curious constraint between them for years that I had never attempted to probe or understand. We, who spent our lives in small communities, had long ago learned that it was wise not to ask too many questions.

Saturninus said, calmly, “You keep your promise then, Praefectus?”

Quintus nodded. “I do,” he said, and I wondered to what god or person he had made a promise and what it was. But I noticed that neither wished the other good fortune.

Saturninus had dug a hole in the earth by the gate, and inside it I put carefully the surviving ear-drop that I had given Aelia, together with the signet ring she had given me. Saturninus produced a coin from his belt. “I found this years ago beneath the floor in number two granary; a sestertius of Commodus. I kept it for good luck. May I add it as my gift, sir?”

I nodded and he put it in. I had thought Quintus might join us, but he did not do so. When the earth had been stamped hard and the libation poured, I held out my hand.

“It has been a long time,” I said.

“Over thirty years,” he replied.

“Hold the fort.”

“As long as I can.”

I mounted my horse and rode off down the road to Corstopitum. I did not look at the deserted bath-house, the crumbling vallum or the abandoned mile castles. I looked only to my front the whole way.

The first thing I did when I reached Eburacum was to visit the baths where I sweated off the dirt of weeks and had a massage, a shave and a hair-cut. Then I looked in the mirror. I was grey now and troops did not care over-much for grey-haired commanders, so I had my hair dyed, leaving a little grey tactfully at the sides. I told Quintus to do the same. Then we collected our new scarlet cloaks and went to headquarters.

Constantinus smiled as we entered. “I have heard of your good fortune,” he said. “And I congratulate you, of course. How may I help you? Not with men, I fear.”

I said, “I want the treasure chest that Stilicho left me to pay my men with. I shall recruit my own men; but I do need equipment and supplies.”

He smiled. “I am sorry but I cannot help you there. You will have to make returns in the usual way to the government factories in Gaul and Italia.”

“That will take months,” I said.

Constantinus shrugged. “You know the regulations,” he said.

Quintus said, icily, “You have supplies. You have more equipment than men. I know how these things are arranged.”

“You have been misinformed.” Constantinus’ smile vanished. “It will be an ill service to this island if you take more troops out of it.”

“You are lying,” said Quintus, coldly.

Looking up suddenly I saw that the door had opened and the young Constans was there, leaning against the wall. He was wearing the over-burnished armour that he always affected, and smelling strongly of perfume. “I have heard of the miracle,” he said, languidly. “I came to offer my felicitations.”

Constantinus said, softly, “And what if I don’t let you take the Twentieth out of Britannia? We are short of everything, I tell you. What point in helping Rome if we cannot help ourselves?”

“Oh, if he cares for the barbarians so much, let him go to them,” said Constans with a yawn.

“We are Rome,” I said. “We are all Rome whether we wish it or not. The barbarians are pressing in along the Rhenus frontier. If that frontier goes we shall be cut off from Rome. What help will the central government give us then if we don’t help them now?”

Constantinus said, in exasperation, “How can we help?” He spread his hands wide in the gesture of a money-lender. “There is no money. How can there be when the tax returns are so negligible. Our administration is at its wit’s end to meet the demands of the central government.”

Quintus said, “Is the province to be endangered by the corrupt indolence of a few fat, idle old men? When the Saxons come again perfume will be a poor substitute for a leather shield.”

Constans laughed. “You are not suggesting corruption, surely?”

I turned on him. “I only suggest. You, of course, know.” To his father, I said, “All that I need now, since I can get no help, is the gold that was left me.”

Constantinus smiled blandly. “But we need that gold for our own defence.”

“No,” I said.

He rose to his feet. “I beg your pardon,” he said, softly. “Did I hear you aright?”

“Yes. I am not under your orders.”

“Perhaps he aspires to be another Magnus Maximus,” said Constans, viciously.

I crossed the room and slapped him hard across the face. “No. If you were a man you would understand.”