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

I said, “Do you wish to cross the Rhenus also?”

He grinned. “I have a small territory which I hold with difficulty. My problems would not be less if I enlarged it.”

“Can I count on your support?”

“Why not?” He added softly, “We all need help.”

“There was a time—” I began.

“But it is not now,” he cut in quickly. “Do not worry, your Excellency,” he went on. “I made a pact with Stilicho. He is a man. I am in friendship with Guntiarus, and the Alemanni tolerate me because I am between them and the Burgundians.”

He laughed quietly but without amusement. “My strength lies, you see, in not being strong.”

I looked at him, sitting there half naked on his horse, the sweat trickling across a pattern of scars on his chest and arms. He was young and strong and had a sense of humour. I liked him and felt that he was a man I could trust.

“I spent some time in Gaul,” he said. “I was a hostage for my father’s good behaviour. Treverorum is a fine city—very rich. Too rich,” he added gloomily.

“Do you know the Alemanni well?”

“I know their swords,” he said grimly.

“Tell me what you know. It will be of great use to me.”

We dismounted from our horses and walked towards a fallen tree trunk.

Quintus said, “We need more men. We want twice the auxiliaries we have at the moment.”

“Perhaps we can raise them in Gaul.”

“Do you really believe that?” He snorted his contempt.

“Where else then? I agree with you about the men. I have had a stone in my stomach ever since the letter came from Stilicho.”

He said, “There is supposed to be an army of thirty thousand in Gaul.”

“Yes, on files, in the archives at Mediolanum. And not enough money in the provincial treasury to pay a third of that number.”

“Well, what then, my General?”

“I think I had better go back to Treverorum and talk to the Curator. If we have taken all the veterans’ and soldiers’ sons we can get hold of, and there are no more volunteers, then we must use other means. I can see Gallus too. He will have time enough now in which to build his ships. In any event something must be done to smooth our relations with the officials there. They will have to endure us another year whether they like it or not.”

He frowned. “Perhaps longer. Shall I come?”

“Of course. Lucillius can take command. He is reliable and the experience will be good for him.”

There was a knock and the Chief Centurion came in. “About the bath house, sir. I am having great difficulty in getting the men to use it.”

“Why, Aquila? Don’t they like washing?”

He smiled. “Yes, sir, but they prefer to use the river?”

“When I was young they used the bath house as a club. They played dice in it and gambled away their pay.”

He said patiently, “They prefer to do that in the town, sir.”

“Habits change, is that it? Yes, of course. The thing is, I don’t want trouble with the local women. These people have very strict ideas, and if our men get their girls into the family way there will be some fighting. I had to buy off a village last month when some young fool in the second cohort got too friendly with their chief’s daughter. I need gold for more important things than that.”

“I know, sir.”

“Very well, Aquila. See what you can do. Find some other way of amusing them in their spare time.”

He said, “Are you going to Treverorum, sir?”

“Yes. Why? Do you want me to bring you back a present?”

He smiled. “No, sir. But there’s that business of the legionary who killed himself last week.”

“I remember. He was in the Headquarters Cohort. Flavius Betto was his name, wasn’t it?”

Aquila nodded. “He was a Brigante, sir. Worried about his family. Wanted his discharge papers.”

I said, “We all want our discharge. I refused him, didn’t I?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s about his property, sir. His father owned a big estate near Eburacum, sir. He bought it out of his profits as a silversmith.”

“Yes. Land was cheap enough then. I remember.”

“The father died a month ago and left him everything.”

“Any next of kin?”

“One sister, but she may be dead.”

“Did our chap make a will?”

Aquila looked straight ahead of him. “We haven’t found one yet, sir.”

I knew what he was thinking. If there were no will and no next of kin his property belonged to the legion. We were short of funds. Even a patched-up estate in Britannia might bring in some revenue.

I shook my head. “You had better see if you can find it. Give me his documents and I’ll put the matter in the hands of the magistrate. He can sort the thing out.”

“You won’t forget the boots, sir?”

“No. I won’t forget the boots.”