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

He said drily, “Courage, as you should know, is something all men think they have, though few in fact possess it at all. They have other qualities which they delude themselves into thinking are the attributes of courage. Do you really expect to find courage in a slave who may be branded for striking a thoughtless master? Or in a peasant who will be turned out to starve if he cannot pay his taxes? Why should you expect to find it more in a rich man’s sons who have been pampered all their lives, who live for pleasure and who are ignorant of duty?”

I said, “But your church—”

“You are thinking of our martyrs, perhaps. Of course, we had some. Though not as many, I fear, as we sometimes say. In men’s enthusiasms numbers often run away with them. You must remember that of the first Twelve, eleven deserted Him in the moment of crisis, while the other turned traitor.”

“You do not hold out much comfort.”

“Neither do you.” He smiled slightly. “You have taken our wealth to pay your men, and now you will take our young citizens also.”

“Yes. You may tell your congregation, for good measure, that I will put a special tax on those families who have men in them without thumbs.”

He said, “You are a hard man.”

“No, only a desperate one.”

“I shall not flee,” he said. “But I will bear your words in mind. Only the foolish oppose those they cannot over-rule.”

“You are a wise man.”

“No, only a bishop.”

We looked at each other.

He said, ironically, “Do you wish me to add my prayers, also? They at least are free.”

“Do not pray for me,” I said. “Pray only that we have a mild winter and that the snow does not come and the river does not turn to ice.”

X

IT WAS A fine October day when I went to my meeting with the chiefs from across the river. I did not think that there was likely to be treachery for there was little to be gained by it, but I thought it wise to take no chances. The camp guard stood to arms and the gates of Moguntiacum were closed to traffic. Two cohorts lined the banks and the cavalry ala waited on horseback by the broken bridge. It was a time to demonstrate my strength. The converted merchant ship moved out of harbour a little after dawn and patrolled the river clumsily while two centuries went ashore on the island to clear the ground, erect tents and take up positions suitable to the needs of honour and defence.

A little before midday I was rowed across in company with Quintus and Lucillius; while Barbatio, with the aquilifer and the cohort standards, followed in another boat. In a third boat were ten centurions whose armour and helmets, upon my instructions, had been carefully gilded. At the same time a boat pushed off from the other shore. The further bank was lined with a vast horde of bareheaded men, roughly dressed and carrying a motley of weapons; swords, javelins and throwing axes. Many had shields but none wore armour of any kind, it being their custom to fight naked as the saying goes. The boats landed and the two groups approached each other, each with an escort of armed men. A hundred paces apart the guard halted as I raised my hand, and I and Quintus, together with two senior tribunes, walked forward unarmed, to meet the two kings who would talk with me.

Rando, king of the Alemanni, was a tall broad-shouldered man with a red beard and only one eye, but the other made up for both in fierceness. He was the hardest looking man I had ever seen. He had a scar along the right arm and another below the left eye. Yet he had great dignity and I thought that here was a man one could talk to; a man one might fight and still respect. He was a king among eagles.

Gunderic, king of the Vandals, was blond haired and young. He smiled a lot and had beautiful teeth, but the smile was empty of emotion like the eyes above it. He had a finger missing on his sword hand and walked with the grace of a Greek athlete. He was a man any girl would have run after; but I would as soon have trusted the African leopard I saw once at the games at Arelate when I was a child.

I said formally, “I am Maximus, General of the West, and this is Quintus Veronius, my lieutenant and master general of my horse.”

I heard a quick intake of breath, saw Rando blink suddenly with his one eye, while the Vandal king frowned, the smile slipping from his face like a salmon from the net. “Shall we sit down,” I said. “At this table we can talk and I will listen to what you wish to say.”

Rando unbuckled his sword and laid it across his knees.

I said mildly, “I have come with no sword, as you can see. Do you always bear arms at the council table?”

“It is our custom,” said Gunderic. He glanced at my soldiers in the distance and smiled ironically.

The Aleman said, “I have not heard your name before.” He spoke carelessly as though to imply that I had been—that I was a man of no importance.