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

“I mean this.” He swung round and put his finger to my chest. “You think you are so important because you carry a sword and you have soldiers to back up your every order. It is easy for you. For us it is not so easy. We have to persuade.”

“You have taken your time persuading then.”

“Everything you asked for has been given.”

“Grudgingly,” I said.

“You have impoverished the entire city.”

“Oh, come, it is not as bad as that.”

He said, in a bitter voice, “Treverorum was prosperous till you came with your insatiable demands. I was proud to be its Curator. Now, everything is ruined. It is taxes, always taxes. And now they do not want me any more. Look at Moguntiacum; a handful of flea-ridden huts. It was a fine city once. No one will work for a living; everyone begs for assistance. They are scum.”

“Is not some of the trouble due to the fact that nowadays people cannot change their occupations without being penalised?”

“That is not my concern. Half the taxes I collect are sent to the central government. But they should be used here, not to pay for idle mouths in Rome.”

“Then why do it?”

“Like your officers I obey orders.”

“And make a good living out of your own estates, no doubt.”

“Why not? I bought them. At least I keep my slaves. They are well fed and well cared for. I don’t beat them into running away.”

“You are fortunate to have the choice,” I said coldly. “I never owned more than two body servants in my entire life.”

He ignored my remark. He said suddenly, “Your defences look very strong. Will you be able to hold them if they attack you?”

I said, “I am not a prophet, only a soldier. But if I have doubts then I will send for your help. That, I am sure, will make all the difference.”

On the fourth day the Bishop left, and I walked out of the camp gates to see him go. It was bitterly cold and the sky was a purple-black from horizon to horizon. Wrapped in our cloaks and hooded to the eyes we were still cold, yet I shivered from fear as much as from anything else.

“The wind has turned,” he said. “Have you noticed?”

“Yes, it is blowing from the east.”

“It brings a cold message for all of us, my son.”

The Curator said politely, “Whatever help you need, then send for it.”

I said, “You are too kind. You should have made that offer months ago.”

At that moment a snowflake fell onto the sleeve of my cloak, and I stared at it and took a quick breath. “It is death,” I said slowly. It had come at last and there was no escape.

The Bishop smiled and raised his hand. “Farewell,” he said. “May you live in God.”

“Farewell,” I said. “May Mithras protect us all.”

I watched the cavalcade ride up the road till the palisade hid it from sight. Then I turned and mounted my horse, held by a waiting orderly, and rode back to my quarters. It was snowing hard now. It went on snowing all day; and it snowed all night.

For three days it snowed, and my men were kept busy clearing the dry snow from the paths and the sentry walks, and sweeping the falls that came from the roofs of the huts and blocked the doorways each morning.

On the fourth morning the wind dropped, the sky cleared and a pale sun gleamed weakly between the feathery clouds. I put on my cloak and walked down to the river with Quintus. The bank was lined with soldiers watching the water. It was icy cold to the touch, but the water looked clear and there was no suggestion yet that it might freeze over. There were tribesmen on the far bank who had come out of camp and who stood in groups watching the water, like us. They waved in friendly fashion and our men waved back. Quintus said, “We shall get warning if it begins to harden. The commandant at Borbetomagus will send a message. They will notice it first.”

I said, “I know that. What I am worried about is if it continues to snow and the roads become blocked.”

That night the wind set up again. It had backed to the north-east now and in the night I awoke to hear it howling through the camp like the spirits of the unquiet dead. Just before dawn it began to snow and this time it fell heavily, blanketing the camp and blotting out our view of the river. I ordered double sentries to be posted, sent out cavalry patrols to break up the loose snow on the roads, and had every man hard at work with iron tipped spades, clearing the tracks and ditches. Messages came in from all the forts to say that the snow was thick on the roads, that some tracks were impassable but that the river was unaffected.

“What about the fleet?” asked Quintus.

“Well, what about it? It won’t be any use to us if this weather continues.”

“Do you want the ships to go back to Treverorum or to lie up at Confluentes?”

“Does it matter where they lie up?”

He said patiently, “We might need them in the spring.”

I looked at him and after a minute his eyes dropped to the map on the table before him.

“It’s really a question of where we can best use the men. We could do with their catapults.”

I said, “How much use would they be at breaking up the ice if it comes?”