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

“At least we shall not die thirsty,” said Quintus, carefully. He was thinking of the wine that was sold in fat barrels in the forum market and then sent by ox-cart to all the distant parts of Gaul.

“I shall want the legion to parade to-morrow in the Circus Maximus for their orders. It will impress the city. We shall need more horses. Some of ours are only fit as remounts.”

Quintus said, “Don’t worry about that. The Treveri are famous horse breeders. I met one this morning and he asked if I needed animals. I told him I had eighteen hundred and he grinned and said, ‘You have brought owls to Athens.’”

The decurion asked, “When will you see the officers?”

“At the third hour. I will give my orders then.”

The city walls stood nearly twenty-five feet high and were ten feet thick. Not even our Wall—the Wall of Hadrian—had been so great. I never heard of a city in my life that had walls like this. The limestone wall, supported at intervals by guard towers (there were forty-seven of them) had been badly damaged in the great disaster of 278 and the scars still showed. Great gaps that had been torn in the original stone were now filled in with crude messes of rubble taken from damaged buildings and then hastily cemented together.

We rode round on our tour of inspection and it was obvious at once that, massive as these fortifications were, the city was too large to defend without a larger force than I could afford to leave behind. I had no intention of being trapped within its walls. On the east side was the amphitheatre, sited between the walls, and capable of holding twenty thousand people at a popular show. It was regularly cursed by the christian priests as a place of abomination but, in this respect, so I was told, their views had little effect upon the passions of the populace. In addition to the amphitheatre entrance there was yet a fifth gate to the south-east, of the same size as the others and equally impressive in appearance.

On our return to Romulus we rode through the district where the majority of the temples had once stood; temples to Jupiter, to Victory, to Epona, to Diana and to other gods, many of them local deities of whom I had never heard. Some had been pulled down and christian churches erected in their place. Others had been abandoned and were slowly being stripped of their stone for the building of dwelling houses, while the bishop and the priests looked on and approved. Quintus and I looked at each other but said nothing. What was there to say? The great statue of Victory in Rome itself, which had been for six hundred years the very spirit of my people, had now been cast out and it was forbidden by imperial edict to worship in the old way, each man according to his own desires, each man following his own path to the heart of his existence. But I—I was too old to change. I, who had prayed to her god that she might live. I was a part of the old Rome, and I should be dead myself if I proved a bad general. Meanwhile the new Rome still had a use for me.

I had made a map in sand upon the floor and the officers of my legion, my tribunes and my centurions, stood round it in a half circle while I pointed with a long stick and told them what must be done.

“It is a triangle,” I said. “At the apex is this city which will be our supply base and my official headquarters, though I shall use it very little. The garrison will consist of two cohorts and a cavalry squadron. You, Flavius, will be in command and the auxiliaries, too, will take their orders from you. You will provide guards for all gates and flank towers, as well as the dockyards and public buildings. Gallus, I want you to take over the dockyard. You will be in charge of our fleet. I will discuss the details with you later. I intend to establish a river patrol which can check infiltration by boats or rafts and which can land patrols on the east bank of the Rhenus if need be.”

“How many ships, sir?” asked Gallus.

“Six. One for each fort.”

I went on to explain what I wanted and I was conscious, all the while that they listened intently, that they were waiting for something to happen. I looked at Quintus and I knew that he knew, too. I might guess at it but Quintus was in the secret.

At the end when they had asked their questions and I had answered them, the Chief Centurion stepped forward.

“May I speak, sir?”

“Yes, Aquila. You intend to anyway.”

“The men have not been paid—”

“I explained all that. Within two months at most they will have all their arrears.”

“It has been a long march from Italia, sir, and now they are to go straight into camp fortification work without leave.”

“They had six months, drinking themselves silly outside Ravenna and Ticinium.”

“They thought they were going home, sir.”

“Have they homes?” I asked. “They left wives and families in Britannia and they left wives and families in Italia. Which particular home do they want to go to now?”