Eagle in the Snow (15 page)

“Yes.”

He nodded. “I thought so.” He hesitated as though he would say more and then fell silent.

“If your church were still persecuted,” I said, “would your people have the courage to face martyrdom for their faith?”

“I do not know. I like to think so. But—I must be honest with you—I doubt it.”

“Why?”

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

I
T 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.

I said, “You have heard of me now. I was in Britannia during the years when your people made war on Gaul. We, too, had a great war with the Picts and the Scotti and the Saxons who invaded my island. I lived and they died.”

Rando raised his hand and signalled to one of his servants, who came forward carrying something wrapped in cloth. “I make you a present,” he said. “I hope that you will honour me by accepting it.”

The servant unwrapped the gift and held it out. It was a belt of solid silver, decorated in the Celtic fashion. It was very beautiful.

“Thank you,” I said. “It is, indeed, a belt fit for a king.”

Rando smiled. “It was made for one, though he never wore it.”

“I, too, have gifts for my guests and brothers: two white colts from the old royal herd of the Treveri, whose ancestors have carried kings.” I nodded to Quintus, who called out; at which a groom came to us, leading the animals on a bearing rein.

Rando looked at them and said, “Ah,” very softly. Gunderic grunted and, for one fleeting moment, gave a smile of sheer pleasure.

“If they are to your liking,” I said, “then it is General Veronius whom you must thank. It was he who chose them.”

Rando said thoughtfully, “It takes a warrior to choose such beasts.”

“And now, what can I do for you?”

The Aleman touched the belt that lay under my hand. “This was made from the silver out of a mine not far from here.”

“Aquae Mattiacae,” I said.

“So—that is how you call it. Yes, it came from there.” Rando paused and then looked at me directly. “Before you came there was much trade across the river; trade in silver, in slaves and in goods of all kinds. Your merchants wanted our slaves and our silver, and we wished to buy their goods in exchange. This you have stopped. Why?”

I said, “I have heard a rumour that your people are restless and wish to move to new lands. Perhaps the rumour is false. If it is then you will tell me.”

He ignored what I had said. “We made a treaty with your general—him they call Stilicho; and this treaty we have kept.”

I said, “That is so, but the treaty depended, in part, upon my government sending you subsidies—corn amongst other things. Last year there was a famine in Gaul and there was no corn to spare. When it was not sent you crossed the river at Borbetomagus and raided the land with armed men.”

“Our people were starving. They needed the food you promised and did not send.”

“We could not send what we had not got.”

Gunderic said, indifferently, “That is your concern, not my brother’s here.”

“It is certainly not yours,” I said, sharply. “King Rando, you were told the delivery would be late because the corn fleet from Britannia was delayed by storms. You should have known we would keep our word.”

Gunderic laughed.

Rando said, “In the treaty it was agreed that the corn should be delivered on certain dates. It was not we who broke the treaty but yourselves.”

Quintus said, “A king who was a king in more than name would have had better control over his own people.”

Rando said, quietly, “Then you do not understand my people. I do not rule them in all matters; only in some.”

I said, “Rome is not a feeble woman to be threatened and made a mock of in this way, as you will learn.”

Gunderic yawned.

Rando said, softly, “I hope the tribute will not be late this year.”

Quintus leaned forward. “Rome does not pay tribute to any race. It is the Alemanni, as we know, who make excellent slaves.”

Gunderic smashed his fist upon the table. “Are we to be insulted.”

Quintus said, “It is not possible. You are a Vandal.”

Rando did not move. He looked at us with quiet curiosity. He said, “I thought to ask for terms, not to listen to them.”

“I will tell you my terms,” I said. “Keep to your side of the river and we will keep to ours. It is as simple as that. There will be no more trade—not even in Roman slaves—until you have paid a fine in cattle for the damage done to Borbetomagus.”

“Is that all?” asked Gunderic.

“That is all.”

The Aleman said, “My brother needs land for his people. They wish to cross the river and settle in Gaul.”

I said, “My brother in arms, Stilicho, has made terms with you on this matter already.” I smiled at Rando. “Many of the Burgundians of Guntiarus, as well as those of your own people who wished to cross the river, have been allowed to do so up to the numbers that were agreed.” I looked from him to Gunderic and smiled again. “Are your people not happy under their own kings?”

The Vandal flushed but said nothing.

The Aleman king said harshly, “That is not in question.”

“What is?”

Gunderic said, “You have a great empire and vast lands containing many people. And you are rich and prosperous. We, too, are a numerous people but our land is not prosperous and—”

“You have no lands,” I said. “You came out of the east and abandoned your own lands. Why should you expect others to give you theirs?”

“We did not abandon our lands. We were forced to leave—”

Pride, perhaps, forbade him to mention the truth, that they had been driven out by the Huns. But perhaps he was speaking the truth: he did not know. The story had been twisted in the handing down, as fathers, determined to retain the respect of their sons, tried hard to turn stories of defeat into those of victory. Even we in Rome had done the same thing.

I said, “Italia was not your land but you tried to take it from us. Now you cross the white mountains. Why should we help you? Let the Alemanni do that, who are now your hosts and brothers.”

Rando said quickly, “It is our desire that those who wish be allowed to cross the river peacefully.” He glanced significantly at my sentries. “Without war,” he added softly.

I looked at them in silence. They had fought us in turn for years now, yet there were Alemanni serving with Stilicho, Burgundians married to citizens of Treverorum and Vandals without number in the army of the east. They envied us, they feared us and they hated us. They had never known a time when Rome did not patrol their frontiers and punish their raids with a strength they could never overcome. The enmity between us was an unhealed scar that reached down to the bone.

“Were you so peaceful when you visited Moguntiacum as a young man?” I asked. Rando did not answer me.

I said, “Let who wishes speak for himself. Do you, King of the Alemanni, wish to move your people into our lands and accept the protection of Rome?”

He hesitated. “I?” he said. “My people and I can take what we want—if we choose—if it is our wish. It is our wish at the moment to be content with what we hold.”

“So,” I said. “That leaves only you, King Gunderic, who are a king of a people without a land. It is you alone then who wishes to serve Rome?”

He said, with a smile, “In the past it was said that Rome turned kings into slaves. Perhaps that was true. I do not know. But then Rome was strong.” He smiled again. “She is not strong now, and I have no wish to be a slave. But I am willing to take service in the army of your empire if, in return, you grant to my people a third of the soil of Gaul for them to farm and to call their own.” He smiled a third time. “I understand that you need men who can work your farms and you need men who will serve as soldiers of the Emperor. All this my people will do.”

Quintus said slowly, “You were with King Radagaisus in Italia. In his army were many peoples who, when they were beaten and Radagaisus was dead, moved north out of Rome’s way. A third died at the hands of Stilicho. Do you mean to tell my general here that only the Asding Vandals are in need of new lands?” Quintus held up a letter. “It is all here in a letter to us from the Emperor’s general.”

The Aleman stroked his beard. “It is as my brother says.”

I said, “He had forty thousand men when he crossed the mountains. I am to find homes for two-thirds of those. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And if I refuse.”

Gunderic hunched his shoulders. “You cannot refuse what we ask.”

“It is not you who asks,” I said. “I can refuse anything.”

The Aleman said politely, “You have a great army, no doubt.”

I said quietly, “I would not advise you to find out.”

“I have,” he said. “We have many friends on your bank. You have only a small force. You could not stand out against one of our peoples even.” He paused, Gunderic glanced at him, and said quickly, “It would be wiser to make terms as Stilicho did.” He added harshly, “Stilicho is a Vandal. He has wisdom in this matter.”

“And I am a Roman.” I stood up and Quintus stood up with me. “You, who are a wise man with much experience, will know by now that spies so often tell their masters only what they wish to hear, especially when they receive silver from both sides.” I saw his mouth tighten as I spoke. “Besides, you forget, I came from Britannia,” I said. “I brought my legion with me but I have more on the way.” I smiled. “Nanienus who beat your father in battle at Argentaria was my countryman.” Rando gave a little hissing breath. “One horseman is worth three men on foot,” I added gently.