Attila (13 page)

Perhaps, after all, his prayers in the cathedral had not gone unanswered, and he had been vouchsafed a sign?

 

¹
31 August 431.

²
Chester.

³
Clan.

Your [Rome's] power is felt even to the farthest edge of the world

Rutilius Namatianus,
On His Return
, 416

Written at the Villa Fortunata, Province of Aemilia, Diocese of Italia, in the year of the consuls Bassus and Antiochus, Kalendas Sept.
¹
C. Valerius Rufinus, formerly commander of the Primani Legion, ex-decurion of Tremeratae; to his friend Magnus Anicius Felix, former tribune in the Primani Legion, senator, greetings.

Magnus, my dear old friend, having lost touch with you many years ago, I rejoice to hear (from a mutual acquaintance) that you are in good health and living in your ancestral homeland of Aquitania – now, alas, allotted to the Visigoths. My commiserations on your plight: having to share your province with stinking, skin-clad brutes can't be pleasant. You must come and visit me, although I fear you will find my hospitality a touch threadbare, my circumstances being somewhat straitened at this present. I will not bore you with the details; suffice to say that the authorities do not quite see eye to eye with myself over certain matters, as a result of which I am now
persona non grata
in their eyes. However, my cellar is not entirely empty yet; it would be good to re-fight old campaigns together, with a cup or two of Falernum to stimulate the memory.

Do you remember that August evening thirty-seven years ago when we waited, in the valley of the Frigidus, to hear if Theodosius had decided to withdraw?'

Moving among his legionaries, giving a word of encouragement here, a gesture of sympathy to a wounded soldier there,
Gaius Valerius Rufinus, commander of the Primani Legion, watched, as, further down the valley, Arbogast's troops pitched camp for the night. Along the northern horizon rolled a range of low hills, outriders of the Julian Alpes, pierced by the white ribbon of the road from Aquincum.
²
From either host, details were digging long trenches to receive the dead, stacked in piles like so much cordwood. On Theodosius' side, the slain were mainly Alaric's Visigoths – bearing out the Goths' complaint that, when it came to fighting, the Romans preferred to spend the blood of their barbarian federate allies, rather than their own.

Arbogast, the Frankish Master of Soldiers, had treacherously murdered the young Western Emperor Valentinian II, and set up his own puppet, Eugenius, on the vacant throne. Just the latest in the seemingly endless series of attempted usurpations that at times had shaken the empire to its foundations. But the German's bid for power (via Eugenius, for no one of Teutonic blood could assume the purple) had been challenged by the Eastern Emperor Theodosius. The rival armies had clashed in the valley of the River Frigidus, where the road from Pannonia emerged from the hills to approach the great city of Aquileia at the head of the Adriatic.

The first day's fighting had been bloody and inconclusive, the advantage if anything lying with Arbogast, despite one of his generals having deserted to Theodosius.

‘A messy business, sir,' remarked one of Gaius' officers, a young tribune from the great Anician family of Rome. ‘If I were Theodosius, I'd be inclined to withdraw under cover of darkness, and regroup to fight another day.'

‘That would be the sensible choice,' agreed Gaius reluctantly. ‘But a pity to be forced to do it, all the same. The longer that serpent Arbogast remains unscotched—' He broke off, suddenly alert. ‘You felt that, Magnus – a breath of wind?'

‘I think so, sir. A cold breeze – seems to be coming from the hills.'

‘It's the
bora
!' exclaimed Gaius. ‘I've just remembered.'

‘The
bora
, sir?'

‘It's a seasonal north wind which blows with ferocious power at
this time of year – buildings damaged, trees uprooted, hailstones big as sparrows' eggs. I experienced it six years ago, when we marched through this very valley against the usurper Maximus. It'll slowly gather force throughout the night and tomorrow build up to a full storm, blowing right in the faces of Arbogast and Eugenius. Ride to Theodosius' tent, Magnus, and tell the Emperor what I've just told you.'

On receiving this intelligence, Theodosius, who was on the point of ordering a retreat, stayed his hand. All transpired just as Gaius Valerius had predicted, and the following day Theodosius went on to win a glorious victory. Eugenius was captured and executed, Arbogast committed suicide, and Theodosius assumed the throne of a reunified empire. And Gaius Valerius acquired an unofficial
agnomen
or title, bestowed on their commander by the men of the Primani Legion: ‘Boranus'.

In our innocence, Magnus, we thought that with Theodosius' great victory, a new era of peace and security had been ushered in. How wrong we were! The following year the mighty Emperor was dead, and our hopes crumbled as the Western Empire reeled beneath a barbarian onslaught: the terrible Gothic Wars in which half our armies perished; the crossing of the Rhenus by German hordes; and now the fall of Africa to the Vandals.

But let us not dwell on such disasters. Rome will rise again, and go on to achieve even greater glories; of that I am convinced. As Rutilius says:

And take Claudian:

I share with Symmachus his conviction that the conquest of new territories should be the empire's continued aim, for surely it is Rome's ordained mission to let the world share the blessings of her civilization. But for an
ordo renascendi
– a rebirth of Rome – to take place, two things must happen. The West must purge itself of Germans, illiterate barbarians who can never assimilate with Rome. And we must return to the worship of the old Gods. For let us not forget that Rome's present troubles began when the temples were closed, and the Altar of Victory removed from the Senate. Also, by making men's priority the life to come, Christianity saps their commitment to preserve the empire.

Thank the Gods I still have my library, and am not so reduced that I cannot afford to buy the occasional book. I prefer the old writers (not surprisingly, you're probably thinking!), Caesar, Sallust, Tacitus,
et al
., but won't deny there are some moderns not without merit: Ausonius, Ammianus Marcellinus, Claudian, Rutilius Namatianus, and a few others. (As for the gloomy rantings of Jerome, Augustine, and their Christian ilk, of them I have nothing to say.)

And so, Magnus old friend, I pass my days here in the pursuit of
otium
⁴
and the tending of my acres, like some impoverished latter-day Horace. It needs but the presence of a congenial guest to make my lot a not unhappy one. I send this by the hand of a friend who is travelling to Arelate on business. He has generously offered to extend his journey to Tolosa
⁵
(assuming the Visigoths grant free passage to a Roman), and will, I hope, return with your reply. Farewell.

Written at Tolosa in the Visigothic Settlement of Aquitania, in the consulships of Bassus and Antiochus, V Kalends Oct.
⁶
Magnus Anicius Felix, once tribune in the Primani Legion, senator; to Gaius Valerius Rufinus ‘Boranus', formerly commander of the Primani Legion, decurion, greetings.

What a joyous surprise to receive a letter from my old commander, though I am saddened to learn that Fortuna has not smiled on you. Whatever the reason for your difference with the authorities, I cannot believe it could justify their persecuting one who has given such distinguished service to the state. Though now domiciled outwith the sphere of Roman jurisdiction, I am not without friends in the Senate (of which I am still nominally a member), and would gladly write to them on your behalf. Your old tribune would deem it an honour to extend what help he can.

Here, things are less dreadful than you seem to imagine. I retired from the army to manage the family estate in Aquitania – just in time for the Gothic occupation! However, I was pleasantly surprised to find that our new masters, far from being the uncouth savages we Gallo-Romans had feared, were generally courteous and fair in their dealings with us. In my own case, the Gothic noble who commandeered my villa paid me a not unreasonable sum, given that he could have evicted me without any compensation, had he been so minded. I suppose their lengthy sojourning within the Roman Empire prior to being granted a homeland, has rubbed away their rougher edges. Many of their leaders copy Roman dress and manners, and wish their sons to learn Latin. Which has been most opportune for me: I have inveigled myself into Theoderic's court circle at Tolosa, where I have found ready employment dinning
amo, amas, amat
into tow-headed youngsters.

Also, I am high in King Theoderic's favour. When he discovered that I alone among his entourage could play backgammon (which he loves), he was overjoyed. So now several times a week we have a game – which I am always careful to lose. That's a trick I learned from you, Gaius Valerius, who were so skilled in the management of men and horses: ‘Always make friends with the leader of the pack,' you said. Sound advice. Now here's an interesting comment from a ‘barbarian' for you to mull over. Theoderic himself once said to me, ‘An able Goth wants to be like a
Roman; only a poor Roman would want to be like a Goth.' All things considered, life for me could be a lot worse. Indeed, I think it much to be preferred to that of many living in Roman Gaul, reduced to penury by the exactions of the tax-collectors.

You'd be surprised at how ‘Roman' everything remains in Aquitania. After the initial shock of learning to adjust to alien rule, things have settled down, and relations between Goths and Romans are comparatively harmonious. This despite the fact that the Romans generally affect to look down on their ‘guests', for being (in their view) uncultured boors. The Goths, who make up only a small proportion of the total population, live under their own laws, and let us keep ours. Trade, though reduced, still carries on; mosaic workshops thrive, and the potteries of Burdigala
⁷
are (unfortunately) booming, flooding the market with hideous grey-and-orange Burdigalan ware.

Though many smaller properties – mine, alas, included – have been confiscated, the great fortified villas have been (wisely) left alone. You should see Burgus, the vast estate of Pontius Leontius, head of Aquitania's leading family. Bath-houses, weaving-sheds, its own water-sources, splendid mosaics, even a private chapel with murals illustrating themes from Genesis. Anyone who thinks they're anyone in Aquitania – Goths included – would kill for an invitation from the Leontii. So you see, Gaius, good old Roman snobbery remains alive and well here!

But now, my old and much esteemed commander, I must speak my mind concerning certain points you raised in your letter. I realize that in so doing I risk destroying whatever
amicitia
exists between us. I am prompted only by the high regard in which I hold you, and by concern for your happiness. If this sounds presumptuous coming from one who was once a junior officer under your command, I beg forgiveness. I recall your advice to young tribunes reporting on a battle situation: ‘Tell it as it is, not how you think I would like to hear it.' That precept I shall now apply.

First, regarding your sentiments regarding the Germans, and your prescription that we get rid of them. How do you propose that this policy – even supposing it were desirable – should be accomplished? Repatriation? Extermination? The plain fact is that the Roman government in the West is far too weak to have any hope at all of enforcing either of these ‘solutions'. The Germans are here to stay, and Rome would be wise to accept it. Properly treated, the Germans could be a tremendous asset to the empire. Though admittedly lacking in refinement, they are, with few exceptions, brave and honourable; they admire
Romanitas
and, if encouraged to assimilate, would in time, I believe, make model Roman citizens. But how does Rome treat them? With hostility and contempt. Intermarriage between Romans and Germans is forbidden; the wearing of furs and trousers in Rome is declared illegal; Germans are treated as heretical untouchables because their Arian form of Christianity differs somewhat from our own. Such attitudes are purest folly. They will succeed in turning a formidable minority, who at present wish for nothing more than friendship, into dangerous enemies. Having lived among Germans for some thirteen years now, I think I can speak with some authority.

You say that Rome should return to the old gods, and imply that by abandoning them we incurred their wrath, and were punished for that apostasy by the barbarian invasions. If that is so, why has the Eastern Empire, which is if anything more Christian than the West, been largely spared? In any case, it is far too late to attempt to restore the Pantheon. Do you seriously think that anyone believes in Jupiter, Juno, and the rest any more? If Julian tried, and failed, to reverse things seventy years ago, what chance is there of doing so today?

You say you believe that Rome will rise again. With all my heart I hope that you are right. But she will do so only if men see clearly whence her troubles stem, and, instead of taking refuge in comforting illusions, are willing to take radical measures to deal with them. To think otherwise is to indulge in culpable self-deception. As for the notion that Rome should contemplate annexing new territories, when she cannot even retain those she already has . . .! Tact alone
restrains me, Gaius, from expressing what I think, except to say that such opinion is unworthy of you.