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

“How far is it from Treverorum to Cabillonum.” He put his finger on the map and traced the route. “Well over a hundred miles.”

“Yes.”

“It will be of great comfort, when we are in trouble, to know we are so closely supported by the glorious army of Gaul.”

I looked up at him. I said, “I have always known that in this affair we should be quite alone. In that there is nothing new.”

He said, steadily, “It is only when I think about it that I get frightened. I wake up in the night and sit on the edge of my bed and sweat with fear.”

I put out my hand, unthinkingly, but he backed away. He said, “In the day I can pretend. It is easy then. But at night I know the truth; and, sometimes, I cannot face the truth.”

Guntiarus said, “It was kind of you to come. My people are poor, as you know, and the harvest has not been a good one.”

“A further payment of tribute is not due for another six months,” I said, brutally.

“That is understood. Of course, I can always sell food to the Vandals. Their ambassadors are here now. Their people are, I think, starving, and would pay a good price—in silver. But you are my friend and I do not care to help your enemies unless I am forced to.”

I said, “You have had all the tribute I can spare. If your harvest was bad then it was because you are a lazy people and bad farmers. I cannot help you.”

“My people are warriors,” he said, mildly.

“If you prefer to treat with the men who took your daughter and slew your son-in-law, that is a matter for you,” I said, contemptuously. “Make friends of their murderers, but do not come again asking me to give you silver.”

“The Vandals are very strong,” he said, anxiously. “I am only a man of peace. My people do not wish for war.”

“No,” said Quintus. “Only for the chance to share the west bank in return for helping these Vandals.”

“You would force me to see my people sell them food,” he squeaked.

“Those are your words, not mine. But are you certain your men are strong enough to guard your waggons against my cavalry?”

He said, anxiously, “We are friends. We have made a pact. I am in the service of the Emperor. You, yourself, appointed me the Praeses of Germania Inferior.” He stumbled over the Latin words awkwardly, but there was an absurd pride in his voice at his remembrance of the meaningless title. It was almost as hollow as my own. “You will not kill an ally.”

“No,” I said. “I kill only those who oppose me.”

We walked out to where our horses stood. His small son, a flaxen-haired child of eleven, was standing by my horse, fingering the harness. I mounted, and then bent down and lifted the boy onto the saddle cloth in front of me. His struggles ceased the moment my knife pricked the soft skin of his throat. There was a growl from the tribesmen around us. My escort of five closed up on me. The king stepped forward and then hesitated. His face had gone white. He was afraid of me, and I was glad. What was a yellow haired Burgundian to me—I who was Maximus?

“Your son needs a change of air,” I said. “I will show him my camp and my soldiers and he will like that. He will be my honoured guest and I will look after his health as carefully as my own. You will remember that, Guntiarus, when you think to sell food to the enemies of Rome.”

“My son,” he cried. “Give me my son.”

“When you have avenged your daughter, I will know that you care for your son.” I lifted my hand and we trotted through the camp, followed by a great host of men who would have killed me if they had dared. Outside the stockade we dug our heels into our horses and galloped hard for the river. When we reached the shore opposite Bingium I knew we were safe. At Moguntiacum I sent for the girl who was Rando’s daughter.

She came and Fabianus was with her.

I said, “Look after the boy. If he goes sick or escapes you will embrace that tree by the river sooner than you think.”

She cried out at me then, called me a Roman butcher and a murderer until she ran out of breath. I laughed and she went away in silence, but I knew that the boy would be safe.

On the last night of the month I was awoken a little after dawn by the centurion of the watch, beating upon my door.

“What is it?” I asked, irritably.

“The girl has escaped. We found the sentry outside her hut half an hour ago. He had been stunned.”

“Half an hour.”

He said, steadily, “I had the camp searched at once. She is nowhere inside. I found a ladder against the south wall by the stables. And this, sir.” He held up a woman’s sandal.

“Yes, that is hers.”

“We had to make sure before we told you, sir.”

“She must be found. Take a patrol into the town. She may be hiding there. Search every house, if need be.” I flung on my cloak and picked up my sword. “She was locked in?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then she had help.” I stared at him and frowned. “One of our men? Is that what you are thinking?”

“It looks like it, sir.”