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The dirty grey clouds hung low in the sky, brushing the tops of surrounding mountains. Occasionally,
they were rent by peaks that thrust higher than their fellows. A sodden wind swept them along.
500 men stood on the parade
ground of the camp. There had been more than a thousand. 'Til the cataphractarii had swept down upon the estate, burned down
the captured villa, avenging its dead owner.
The survivors had been herded like cattle to this place. Enclosed by tall
wooden stockade walls that left nowhere to run. The heavily armed and armoured horsemen called themselves manes, "the
shades".
Milo waited with the others, ignoring the hunger that gnawed like worms in his gut. Not one of them had
eaten for two days. They had been standing since morning. It was now late afternoon.
They were Bagaudae: thieves, robbers
and vagabonds. Previously, they might have been colonii, tenant farmers, craftsmen or labourers; all reduced to penury by
the laws and taxes of the state or more properly by the legal machinations of absentee landlords.
The Senatorial class
of owners was either mercifully indifferent or unremittingly venal. Their Equestrian agents were always venal, hoping to squeeze
enough money to become senators. Or become Bishops, which was better cause they didnt have to pay taxes.
Not that it
mattered; they were all dead men. Milo felt a curious sort of calmness. Relief perhaps, that it would soon be over. He looked
at his hands. Large powerful hands.
Large enough to kill the young equestrian who raped and killed his sister for an
evening's amusement. Totally impotent to save his father when their farm was burned in retaliation.
Milo quelled the
anger that began to burn in his heart; it would do him no good here. It did distract him from his hunger, briefly.
All
of them looked to the man on the platform. He stood like an apparition, outlined against the ashen sky. His greater height
thus allowed the alpine breeze to tug at the officer's dark red cloak, causing it to ripple slightly. The keening of the wind
was a counterpoint to the silence in the square.
Ricimer's Hound, known to most by reputation, Madman, Killer, Fire-worshiping
Heretic. The reality disappointed none of them. A face that might have been handsome, were it's expression not as bleak as
the surrounding rocks.
Well-muscled, medium of height and build, he radiated authorictas- authority. The steel breastplate
gleamed dully against the glowering sky. Sun-darkened, blackened leather, terminating in breeches after the barbarian fashion.
Silver hair and grey eyes that stared through a man into....... nothing.
"What do you think, Boy, of Ricimers tame
killer?" That was Sextus, a bitter amusement glinted in the mans eyes. The fellow had been half stumbling, half marching
with him most of the night. His equilibrium might have flagged, but not his sense of humor. If only he wouldn't share it so
often.
"He doesn't look very tame to me. I heard he was crazier than a midden-heap rat." Milo answered.
"Maybe. He only kills Romans"
"How do you know? Whats a Roman? How does he tell? We have a Greek Emperor
and a German Patrician! Does he ask; Whos a roman? before he kills? then he must be mad!" Milo answered, exasperated.
This fellow was wearing thin.
"I heard that he enjoys killin'", One of the others joined in.
"I
just heard he was good at it." Still another replied.
"They say he ain't no christian."
"It
was christians wot sent us here." Sextus got in the last word, as usual.
"Shhhhh......"
They
were encouraged to listen by wandering Decurions with staves. Shut one's eyes for a moment, relax one's posture or simply
faint and the decurions would remind one of their presence none too gently. Most stayed awake from curiosity, to learn the
manner of their impending deaths.
Then the apparition spoke:
"Until now you have been vermin upon the body
of the State. You have molested innocent way fare'ers, attacked small towns and villages, made the roads unsafe and generally
constituted a breach of his sacred majesty's peace at a time when Rome can ill afford such distractions.
"In happier
times you might have hoped to have your sentences commuted to slavery. Frankly, in your current condition you're not worth
the bother. There are plenty who've chosen slavery over brigandry and it is uncertain that you would make adequate slaves.
"Your lives are forfeited to the state, yet they have no value. We're rather short on food in Italia, due to the
famine.
"Tomorrow you will be crucified and your final hours spent in penance along the roadside for the evil of
your ways. But there is one alternative: It is within your reach to become valuable to the state; join the army.
"Those
of you who are ultimately accepted will escape the fate of thieves and murderers, those who are not will have bought some
time. I must warn you that crucifixion is easier, for your training will be hard. Those of you who succeed, however, will
be more than slaves or petty thieves. You have already shown that you can kill. But you were clumsy, stupid, sloppy and you
got caught.
"Join the Army of the Senate and People of Rome. It is an institution that has survived for a thousand
years. You will be respected, fed and cared for. If you doubt that such a thing still exists, then remember what found you,
took you and brought you here. Those of you who wish to enlist, raise your right hands."
A subdued murmur ran through
the crowd of condemned men on the parade ground. Ricimer's Hound was not famous for charity. For all that crucifixion had
been against the law for more than a century, most suspected that the law on the frontier was embodied in the figure with
the scarlet cloak outlined against the leaden winter sky.
Probably nail me up right alongside Sextus, otherwise. Milo
reflected, sardonically. A postponed death was infinitely superior to an immediate one. First singly, then in groups, hands
began to rise. Before long, every man in the square had volunteered for service.
''Excellent '', the man on the platform
responded, ''I will now leave you in the gentle hands of your Primus Pilus, Centurion Galbo.''
A variety of catcalls
resounded from the walls of the camp as the veterans anticipated the new recruits' treatment at the hands of their top non
-commissioned officer. But Milo noticed that it was an amiable contempt.
He guessed that many if not all of them had
stood where he was now. They had survived. Milo knew indeed that he could kill. A curious sort of hope began to bloom in his
chest. Yes, he could kill.
An individual of indeterminate age, stocky, bald, with massive chest and forearms moved at
parade march to a point directly below the platform.
"With your permission, Sir!"
The figure on the platform
nodded.
"Awright Ladies, you can't be men 'cause you were too easily caught. You must be out of work actors, whoors
an catamites sellin' your arses from the brothels near the Circus Maximus. You are privileged to apply for membership in the
Twenty-ninth or Thirtieth Legios Solenses Invictus of his gracious imperial majesty.... ah...... ,
"Anthemius
", The figure on the platform whispered harshly.
"Right, his Sacred Majesty, Anthemius ", the centurion
recovered, "wot is the only person you buggers will bend over for from now on! More howls of derision from the men
at the walls. "And 'is Majesty is most gracious 'coz e lets yoo choose whether you serves in the Twenty-ninth or the
Thirtieth!" The Primus Pilus smiled wickedly." We'll git your names later sos to give you time to come up with new
ones.
" So, nowt you've had a nice rest, let's start with a brisk run about the walls. You can pretend it's just
like the old days when you was stealin a purse or runnun' off from the pleasure house wot you came from. Anybody wot moves
too slow gets a rap on the head from one of my lads." The figure in the scarlet cloak left the platform and retired
from the field.
"Well, you can hardly blame
him for forgetting who the Emperor is this month ", Gundobad, the Burgundian Prince, ventured in the officer's mess hall.
" I might not, but someone else would ", replied the general, hanging the red cloak on a peg. "Then I'd
be out the only man in Italia who can train in close-order drill for scutarii."
" That's another thing, why
all this emphasis on heavy infantry? Gundobad asked, These days most action is decided by cavalry. What's the point?"
"The point is, no one else has heavy infantry, nor can they field enough of it if they did. No one can garrison
an entire border as was done in the old times. That's why everyone relies upon the speed of cavalry. Many tribes have cavalry,
even heavy cavalry. So do we ".
"Scutarii are too slow." Gundobad sneered.
"Yet an army moves
ultimately no faster than the last man. It is the combination of mobility and immobility that controls the field. Close order
drill will train them to think like soldiers and get them used to discipline. You should read Vegetius' treatise on military
organization.
Gundobad ignored the slur upon his semi-literacy and asked, What about Aetla and the Hunni? "
"Aetla was sent to hell nearly twenty years ago and the only man that could ask him is your great-uncle, whom Aetius
sent first. In the end, the Hunni fought on foot because there was insufficient forage for their mounts southwest of the Danubus,
the general replied, casting his eyes upward in mock piety " You and I are here today by the grace of god and Flavius
Aetius."
" You don't believe in God "
" What I believe in is not a subject for casual conversation."
"But you do believe in Flavius Aetius and we can't ask him either. "
"No, we can't " the
general examined the bottom of his winecup, " but then he got himself killed at court and that's infinitely more dangerous
than the field. "
"True, Gundobad admitted, " Aetius' Terms were good for everybody, Rome got someone
to watch the passes and we have a homeland. But ", He continued, "How many troopers do you intend to recruit and
train here? The Legios Twenty-ninth and Thirtieth Solenses Invictus? You don't have those many! "
"Are you
sure, Gundobad? That mistake has been made before " The General's tone was cool and amused. But the implied threat was
there.
Then why antagonize the Christian Imperial Court by dedicating your new legions to Unconquered Sun?
This is
the frontier. They dont care what I do here.
" My father, Gundiok, told me they found you as a boy. You were guarding
your family's makeshift funeral pyre after an Alemanni raid. It wasn't even your house. You stabbed my great-uncle in the
thigh. Before he could take his revenge, you loudly insisted that you were a hostage of enormous value to Flavius Ateius.
So instead of killing you, they took you to him. He didn't know you, but fostered you anyway. The Burgundian Prince's pale
blue eyes regarded the Roman with deceptive innocence. "You have the Deceivers own luck, Lucius Severus. Do you ever
tire of pushing it?
The roman did not respond.
"Does Ricimer know you're doing this?" , Gundobad asked,
"Wasn't your commission to simply rid Sapaudia of the Bagaudae?"
" I have simply done that ", came
Lucius Severus droll response, "I need some time to finish the job. Besides, I have not heard you object to the free
labor for bridge and road repairs.
" I can give you no more than six months ", Gundobad replied", If
Ricimer finds out...
"Then the Patrician will have your head. So don't let him find out "
" Do
you mean to attack Ricimer? "
"No"
"Whom do you serve? "
"I serve Rome, Gundobad.
Never doubt that", The general's cold grey eyes bored into Gundobad's, " And never break faith with me or you can
ask questions of Aetla yourself."
The sky was already
darkening by the time he reached the senior officer's quarters. A thin cool breeze stroked the back of his neck as he entered.
Ecdysius, the Gallo-Roman, was lounging in one of two chairs in his quarters when he returned. , staring bemusedly at
the object on the rude table.
The Gurzh occupied the center of the table. Narrow at the base, it flared wider at the
top and bore a shallow indentation. Twin opposing spirals inlaid with ancient goldwork wrapped the crystalline form, chasing
each other in the guttering light of the wind-stoked oil lamp. The lines intersected along its length exactly one hundred
times. An object of power.
Nearby were a set of well-used knucklebones, the markings nearly worn off and rolled up leather
map in its case. Also a bottle of better wine, the red falernian, with two clay cups.
"I've often wondered what
you did with captured Bagaudae! Do you think they'll fight? the youngish nobleman asked.
"They've already proven
that they'll fight. Noble Senators and Bishops alike have cried long and loud to our Patrician about the inability of household
retainers to control the problem. Did you know that bagaudae control Armorica? That all communication with Rome goes through
them? But I need these particular bagaudae to fight well and that remains to be seen.
"They want to do well, though.
His smile was grim. It is amazing what happens if you give a man back his pride. Most of these wretches were thieves of necessity.
That doesn't make thievery any more acceptable to me, or to them either, it seems." The General regarded Ecdysius blandly,
before continuing,
"In any case the Head Count is worthless for soldiering. They are undersized and scrawny from
malnutrition. Worse, theyre bred servile from relying on the City Corn Dole. Runaway farmers or coloni bondmen are healthier
and better motivated. Best of all; they're angry. Fed up with being fucked by their appointed protectors."
"Will
it be enough to save Aegidius? "
"If it's enough, Ecdysius, It will save more than Aegidius." The General
smiled, " Perhaps enough to save Clermont-Ferrand and all of Arverni as well."
"I almost believe you.
I certainly want to.
"I want to believe me", the General smiled mirthlessly,"
"Tell me about
this. I've only just noticed it and I've waited here quite a while. I know it's important", Ecdysius said gesturing at
the Gurzh," But why? What does it do? How does it work?"
" You see it? Very few people can actually see
it. That's one of the things that it does. I can trust those who can see it. It's important because Aetius gave it to me along
with Stilicho's map, before he went on to Ravenna to receive his reward from Valentinian. Which turned out to be a foot of
steel in his belly. As for what else it does, hard to say. I think it bends chance. Watch.
The General picked up four
of the knucklebones and tossed a winning throw, the Venus. Five times. " I've thrown the vulture five times in a row
as well". He allowed. " Things...events, fall out of its way. One way or the other." The General shrugged his
shoulders by way of further explanation. "Did you know that the Christians have a legend of a "Holy Grail",
one of the myths that they ceaselessly manufacture?
" And do they know of this? A chalice that holds luck?"
Ecdysius indicated the Gurzh.
" They know only that I ceaselessly comb the hinterlands for a Christian relic. the
General responded, drily.
" What are you looking for? the Gallo-roman asked.
" I have what I'm looking for",
the General indicated the men in the square.
" Then what good is the cup if it doesn't hold luck?"
"
You can't hold luck, Ecdysius, you have to use it".
The General relented, " It may be time. Our mutual friend,
Aegidius, has told as much again as I'd learned by myself. I trust you've brought further news?"
"I approached
Vincentius. He said that his choice was made when Aquitainia became Regnum Visigothi. He abhors the current fashion of shifting
allegiances."
"Most commendable, had he not shifted once already. Vincentius is loyal to his estates in Aquitania."
Ecdysius was still apprehensive and asked,
"Does anyone else know what you're doing here?"
"You
do, and Gundobad does, although he wishes that he didn't."
"Do you trust that one?"
"Within
limits, I trust his ambition and his timidity, he want's his uncle's job as Patrician of Rome. Or he would be King here "
"And he thinks you'll help him? "
" I think I'll help him", the General laughed, But more
likely with the latter than the former! "
"And if he betrays you to Ricimer? "
"Then he can't
be sure which of us will kill him first. Always make sure that the other person has more to lose than you do, Ecdysius. Gundobad
is already a Prince. I am merely 'Ricimer's Hound' "
" I suppose, in these times, that passes for trust."
"I suppose, in these times, that it does."
Sitting down at the table, the General poured less than half
a cup of wine, and watered it, after the old fashion. Eight twelfths water to four of wine. It would stretch the falernian
further.
"In any case", he continued, " Our prince has given us six months to vacate the premises, and
has made sure the locals here know it."
Ecdysius froze, " Aren't you afraid that this information, in the
wrong hands, provides your opposition a timetable?"
"I'm counting on it. We will be moving in three months.
When you return to Aegidius, tell him to write the most insulting letter he can compose to their honors Anthemius and Ricimer.
Threaten war, succession or withold taxes, insult their ancestry and sexual preferences, it doesn't matter." He chuckled,
" Spare no effort and do it quickly. "
"Are you mad? Do you want Ricimer to have us all killed?"
"No, to both questions."
" If the quarrel between Aegidius and Ricimer becomes public then, as
Patrician, Ricimer will make open war upon Aegidius. "
"Yes, I think so."
"What purpose does
that serve?"
"Mine".
As a member of the rural, Gallo-roman country gentry, Ecdysius sometimes
found the General's brusqueness offensive. And he'd known the other for less than a year. What was Aegidius playing at with
this fellow? And yet, he was the Keeper, Ecdysius reminded himself, looking at the Gurzh. Then he remembered the scroll with
its wax seal.
" I have a message for you from Aegidius. He said that it was worth all of our lives were it found."
"Then let's hear it.''
"This is written and sealed, I do not know what it says."
The General
responded initially with annoyance, then cautious respect. " You bring a written message worth your life and you don't
know what it's about? Ricimer has already killed your father..."
Handing the scroll over, Ecdysius replied, ''
Aegidius said to tell you that it was time."
**
After the young noble had left, the scroll was unwound on the rough table under the guttering oil lamp in the officer's
quarters.
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