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

They fell silent as they saw me and stood awkwardly in the doorway. They looked at my riding dress and at my helmet in the crook of my arm, and their faces wore a curious expression, compounded—I could have sworn it—of fear and hatred. I waited stiffly for Julianus Septimus to introduce me. He said nothing but I heard a gasp and the wine cup fell to the floor with a crash.

The dark boy moved forward, crying, “Grandfather.”

Instinctively he stretched out his right hand, the fingers splayed outwards, as though he would have caught the falling cup had he been in time. It was then that I noticed that his right thumb was missing. The puckered skin was pink and newly healed. It was a great shame. It was a horrible accident to have suffered. He was such a good looking boy.

He saw my look and dropped his hand sharply.

The grandfather said faintly, “It is all right. No harm has been done. Metellus can clear up the mess in a minute. I have a guest. Run along and come back when I am free.”

The boys bowed to me stiffly and turned to go. As they did so I saw the hands of the fair one quite clearly. He, too, had suffered an accident, just like his brother. I remembered the day that I had entered Treverorum and the young men I had noticed in the crowds with injured hands.

It was then that I understood.

I swung round sharply and put my hand to my mouth. I felt physically sick and the swallowed wine was sour in my throat. The skin on the backs of my hands prickled with sweat and my forehead felt cold. I knew then the shame, the horror and the degradation of it all.

I said in a whisper, “Who put them up to it? Was it you? You, the friend of my Theodosius’ son, the friend of Valentinian who laboured to rebuild this province after its years of disaster and misery.”

He did not answer. He turned his head away, but I saw from the angle of his jaw that his face trembled.

“Do you want to lie skewered in the sun like a condemned criminal while your villa roasts your servants behind your back? See your sons killed for your gold, your grandsons as slaves, serving their barbarian masters on bended knee? See your grand-daughters tremble as they are stripped naked for the pleasure of their stinking conquerors? Will you die content in the knowledge that you have brought such things about?”

He did not answer.

I said, “Your family bears a great name. You are the owner of fertile lands, rich treasures and a beautiful house. You have all that most men would welcome; nothing that they would refuse.”

“Stop it,” he cried. “How dare you?”

“Dare,” I said. “I am only a poor man. I am rich in nothing except courage and even that I must earn. Each day I have to win it afresh as a peasant sweats to earn his food. It is not easy to earn what I need that I may do what I have to do. I am only a soldier. But you—you have everything, save only one thing.” I turned my back on him and walked to the open door. “You lack only the Huns as your guests.”

I rode back to the city and all the while I shivered as though with a fever. It was as though the heat had gone out of the sun and the golden brightness of the day was but an illusion.

Outside Romulus a sweating horse stood tethered in the courtyard between the double gates, and a messenger awaited me in my room with a sealed scroll, penned two days before at Moguntiacum. Quintus’ eyebrows were raised, framing an unspoken question.

“The family of Septimus have joined the thumbless ones,” I said.

He said scornfully, “Thus avoiding military service like all the others. You should fine them as Augustus did.”

I broke the seals and read the message through twice to make certain that I understood it properly. “The Alemanni have sent an ambassador across the river. Their king, Rando, wishes a meeting to discuss certain matters.”

“On the east bank, I suppose, preceded by a feast and with girls of his tribe to entertain us,” said Quintus, sardonically.

“I wonder what he wants. It is curious that. The Alemanni must have moved north.”

“You are not going to see him, surely? It may be a trap.”

“I must. I want to know his intentions.”

“Those. I thought they were obvious enough.”

“Too obvious, perhaps. I shall arrange a meeting on one of the islands off Moguntiacum.”

“That should be interesting. My cavalry will then be of great help to you if we are attacked.”

“I am glad you said we.”

He laughed and began to unlace his riding boots. “I have never seen a king of the Germans. I am curious to know what he will be like.”