Attila (52 page)

Dawn disclosed a vast and, at first glance, absolutely level plain stretching away on every side to the limit of his vision. Underfoot, the ground was firm and dry, a circumstance causing the Huns
to betray their presence by a great pall of dust rising several miles to the south. Aetius' heart sank. The Locus Mauriacus was perfect for the manoeuvring of Attila's cavalry, which would give him a clear advantage over the Roman-led coalition with its comparatively weak horse. Reports put Attila's force at half a million – surely an over-estimate. But even allowing for exaggeration they could scarcely number less than a hundred thousand. Against which Aetius could field twenty thousand Romans, twenty thousand Visigoths, and perhaps a similar number for all the other allies put together. A maximum of sixty thousand, at best a little more than half the numbers Attila had at his command.

With a sick feeling of despair, Aetius acknowledged a grim fact: unless he could devise a way to neutralize the odds against him, he faced certain defeat. Then, at that stark moment, he noticed something which lifted his spirits from despondency and sent them soaring. His observing of it Bishop Anianus would undoubtedly have ascribed to Divine Providence, Aetius thought irreverently. With a wry chuckle, he wheeled his horse and spurred for the Roman lines.

In a private chamber in the imperial palace of Ravenna, Valentinian, white-faced and shaking, scanned the latest dispatches from Gaul. ‘He gave us his word, Heraclius,' he cried in a trembling voice to the plump eunuch standing nearby. ‘In his letter to us, Attila swore that his only quarrel was with Rome's enemy, the Visigoths. But now we learn that all the federates in Gaul, the Ripuarian Franks excepted, have combined against him. What can this mean?'

‘It means, Serenity,' said Heraclius, the emperor's favourite, and chief adviser, ‘that Attila has played you false. Deceit is his stock-in-trade, and playing one enemy off against another. I fear his plans of conquest are not limited to Aquitania, but extend no doubt to all of Gaul, perhaps also Italia, and even Hispania.'

‘Why were we not warned?' wailed Valentinian. ‘We are surrounded by fools and cowards – Aetius especially. He should have foreseen Attila's intentions and taken steps to counter them. Can he still stop the Huns, do you suppose?'

‘We cannot count on it, Serenity,' replied the eunuch imperturbably. ‘In that respect, the record of Rome's Eastern armies is hardly an auspicious precedent.'

‘Then we must prepare to leave!' exclaimed the emperor. ‘Go at once to Classis, Heraclius. Charter a galley, the fastest you can find, to transport immediately to Constantinople ourself, the Augusta and her daughters, I suppose, and key members of the Council, and as many court servants and imperial guardsmen as can be accommodated.'

‘And also one whose chief concern is Your Serenity's abiding welfare?' Heraclius suggested smoothly.

‘Yourself, you mean? Yes, yes, but hurry. Others may well have read the auguries.'

‘It shall be done, Serenity. The vessel will be ready within the hour. But before I go, perhaps I may caution against immediate embarkation.'

‘Why, pray?' snapped Valentinian

‘Just that supposing Aetius were to prevail against Attila, Serenity, then return to Italy to find the throne vacated . . .' Heraclius shrugged, and spread his hands suggestively.

‘We take your point,' said Valentinian worriedly, after a pause. ‘Aetius has long striven to undermine us and usurp our power. You think he might be tempted in our absence to usurp the throne itself?'

‘The history of Rome, Serenity, is sadly strewn with examples of ambitious generals seizing the purple – the usurper Iohannes in your infancy, to name but one.'

‘Very well,' conceded the Emperor reluctantly. ‘Charter the ship, but we shall not sail immediately. If Attila wins, I daresay we'll get advance warning before he has time to cross the Alpes.'

‘A wise decision, Your Serenity.'

The allied camp near Durocatalaunum [Titus wrote in the
Liber Rufinorum
], Province of Lugdunensis Senonia, Diocese of the Gauls. The year of the consuls Marcian Augustus and Adelphius, XII Kalends Jul.
⁴
First light.

We reached Aureliani just in time. The Huns were already in the suburbs when the Romans and their allies arrived on the scene. Rather than let his army be trapped around the walls of the city, Attila, ever the cautious tactician, abandoned the siege and pulled back across the Sequana. This
was a major gain for Aetius, and a setback for Attila: the capture of Aureliani would have given the Huns a strong base from which to launch an offensive against the Visigoths' homeland, Aquitania.

My admiration for Aetius knows no bounds. On receiving the news that the Visigoths had decided after all to join us, he immediately set about negotiating with the other federates in Gaul, which involved prodigious journeyings and feats of persuasion. The upshot: a huge force, united in fear and hatred of the Huns, has been assembled in an amazingly short time. To the Roman army and their powerful ally the Visigoths have been added large contingents of Alans, Franks, Burgundians, and even Aremoricans (perhaps, late in the day, the last-mentioned realized that rule by Rome is preferable to ‘liberation' by Attila). How strange, and heartening, to witness Roman soldiers collaborating in the most friendly way with their erstwhile enemies. Our only weak link is Sangiban, King of the Alans, who treacherously tried to betray Aureliani to Attila and switch his allegience to the Huns. Fortunately, the conspiracy was detected and annulled, and Sangiban has now rejoined the fold. But he and his people will need watching.

The federates seem well enough equipped, especially the Franks and Visigoths. All have round shields, and either a spear or several javelins apiece, as well as arms such as knives or throwing-axes. Most still scorn body-armour, but many now have helmets. The wealthier own swords and horses. Whatever our German allies lack in discipline, they more than make up for in courage and resolve. Our own Roman troops are steadier and better trained, although their armour and weapons generally could be in better shape – some are patched up and kept in service long after they should have been scrapped. The trouble is that many of our weapons
fabricae
, like those at Augusta Treverorum or Lauriacum
⁵
which lie within federate or abandoned territory, are no longer in production, while the ones in Gaul that are – as at Durocortorum and Argentorate Stratisburgum
⁶
until
their recent sacking by Attila, that is – operate on a much-reduced scale because of cut-backs in central funding. Much of our gear now has to come from
fabricae
in northern Italia, at Cremona, Verona, et cetera. Unaccountably, a few months ago supplies for a time stopped coming from this source. (Aetius suspected the jealousy of Valentinian at work.) However, when Aetius had three managers charged with peculation, resulting in their dismissal and imprisonment, supplies miraculously resumed.

The scale of Attila's devastation in northern Gaul is truly appalling – far worse than the reports had led us to believe. Most places of any size between the Rhenus and the Sequana have gone up in flames, and indiscriminate massacres have routinely followed the capture of a city. One hears blood-curdling stories of the atrocities committed by his Thuringians: accounts of victims tied between horses and torn apart, or staked down and crushed beneath wagon wheels are chillingly convincing. They have had one positive effect, though: to give an iron edge to the allies' determination that Attila must be defeated.

Calling in his wings from around Nemetocum and Vesontio
⁷
as he retreated from Aureliani, and closely followed by our coalition's forces, Attila has chosen to make a stand south of the town of Durocatalaunum, where the terrain favours his cavalry. The area is one enormous plain, flat and dreary beyond imagining, its monotony unrelieved except by stands of poplars and winding tributaries of the Matrona river
⁸
on which the town stands. We have pitched our tents within sight of Attila's entrenchments,
⁹
after some heavy skirmishing in the night, when our van caught up with some of Attila's German allies. Everyone expects there will be a great and bloody battle today. Morale is high, though I would say the mood is one of grim resolve rather than excited optimism. Apart from last night, when he went off to scout the lie of the land, Aetius has been everywhere,
chatting with the soldiers round their camp fires, briefing leaders, visiting the sick, checking supplies, et cetera. The man's energy is inexhaustible. Just the sight of his famous battered cuirass and (carefully dis-arrayed) scarf is enough to put new heart into everyone.

Though officially I shall not be fighting, my position as a courier should ensure that I see more of the conflict than most soldiers. I have already made my will and dispatched it to my head steward at the Villa Fortunata with instructions that, should I fall, all my property is to pass to my son, Marcus, now a fine young man studying law at Rome. To him also I bequeath the
Liber Rufinorum
, our family's archive, whose compilation I trust he will continue. I have prayed to my God, the Risen Christ, and am at peace. Holding the Chi–Rho amulet given to me all those years ago in the cathedral at Ravenna, I feel that the souls of my dear wife Clothilde and my father Gaius look down on me from Heaven, lending me strength and encouragement against the coming fray.

I close now in haste; Aetius has returned from his scouting expedition and has summoned me.

When he reached the Roman lines after surveying the Catalaunian Plains, Aetius handed his blown horse to a groom and sent a messenger to fetch Titus. Looking round, he could see that Aegidius and Majorian had done a good job of pitching camp, following the night encounter with Attila's rearguard. Approvingly, he noted the neat rows of the legionaries' leather tents, with patrolling sentries and even a rough-and-ready ditch and stockade – Trajan would have been proud! Even the federates' lines, stretching away into the far distance, seemed reasonably well ordered – for German dispositions, anyway. Titus appeared, and Aetius sent him to order the
bucinatores
to sound Arise, and to request the allied leaders to assemble in the command tent.

Surveying the motley array of German warriors and Roman officers who filed in, Aetius chuckled to himself. What would Hadrian or Constantine have thought, if they could have seen a Roman general solemnly preparing to discuss tactics with fur-clad barbarians?

‘Good morning gentlemen,' he said cheerfully. ‘I trust you slept well. My apologies if my summons has caused you to delay your breakfasts, but I can assure you there will be plenty of time for that. The Huns are not yet astir, and my guess is that Attila is in no hurry to join battle. Clearly, he got a rude shock when we turned up in strength at Aureliani. He'll probably play safe and postpone the fighting till late in the day, so that he can fall back under cover of darkness, should that prove necessary. I propose to exploit that. I've discovered that there's high ground behind the Hun position, on their right. If we can occupy the hill while they're unprepared, that'll give us an enormous advantage. Torismund' – he smiled at a fair-haired giant standing beside his father, King Theoderic – ‘does the task appeal to you?'

‘Definitely, sir,' said the young man eagerly.

‘Excellent. Best be on your way, then. God speed and good luck.

‘Your Majesty,' said Aetius, turning to Theoderic when Torismund had left to collect his assault force, ‘it is only fitting that the honour of commanding the right wing should fall to yourself.' The venerable King inclined his head in assent. ‘Then I, together with the Romans and our other allies, apart from the Alans, will take the left.

‘Now, Sangiban,' he continued, in tones suggesting he was addressing an old and trusted colleague, ‘I have reserved the most important post especially for you; the centre. This is where Attila is most likely to concentrate his main attack, using his best troops, the Huns. Who better than the King of the Alans to match against the King of the Huns?' Ribald laughter from the Germans and Romans greeted this observation: everyone knew that Sangiban had tried to desert to Attila. The King, whose dark complexion hinted at his Asiatic origins, could only nod unhappily. ‘But don't worry,' went on Aetius reassuringly. ‘You'll have friends on either side, to keep an eye on you.' More laughter at the thinly veiled threat that, should Sangiban try to repeat his treachery, it would be instantly spotted and punished by those flanking him.

‘Right, I think that's everything,' concluded the general. ‘When the fighting starts, it'll be a straightforward pounding-match, with no opportunity for elaborate tactics, and victory going to the side that doesn't break. The lines will be so extended that there'll be no question of the Huns trying their favourite encircling trick. I
suggest you let your men eat and sleep their fill for the time being: they'll fight the better for it. My scouts will keep me informed of what the Huns are doing; I'll send word when it's time for us to take up battle positions. Enjoy your breakfasts, gentlemen.'

Surveying the great wall of wagons behind which his forces were deploying, Attila felt unaccountably depressed. This despite the fact that, both tactically and strategically, he had done nothing which could be faulted, and was now in a very strong position. Given the circumstances, his decision to withdraw from Aureliani had been wise, as had his disengagement from Aetius' Frankish vanguard in the night. The plains where he was encamped were ideal for the deployment of his Hun and Ostrogoth cavalry. His forces greatly outnumbered those of the Romans and their allies. So why was he so low in spirits?

Part of it was sheer weariness. If he defeated Aetius today – and all the signs were that he would – what then? The subjugation of the entire Western Empire, to be followed, perhaps, by an epic contest between himself and Gaiseric for domination of the barbarian world? There would never be an end to it, he thought despairingly. Together with his people, he was locked into a perpetual campaign of bloody conquest, in which war became its own self-fulfilling justification, and forward momentum the only choice. The Hun warriors themselves, he had noted, seemed to share his despondency, probably because of the withdrawal from Aureliani. Lacking the patience and perspective of the Romans, who could rally no matter how many times they were defeated, to his unsophisticated fellow tribesmen retreat and failure must seem like the same coin. Perhaps if they were to receive news of a favourable divination, that would help to restore their morale.