Nobilissima (53 page)

“That seems very close,” I said, pointing at the counter that signified Castinus’s army.

Aspar nodded. “Less than two miles from here. They’ve taken up position on a high plain beyond the forest to the west. It’s a good place to be, easy to defend.”

“And what does that disc mean?” I asked, pointing to another.

“Aetius and his Huns. They are ten miles away, maybe less by now. They’ll move up to join Castinus, unless we can cut them off.”

Aspar paused to take a document from a messenger who had just arrived, dusty and sweating. He read it and passed it to Marcus.

“It’s time,” said Aspar. “I’ll give the order to move out.”

He saluted Marcus and strode from the tent. I felt my stomach churning. The battle for the crown was about to start and I wished I could do something more than observe.

“Can we come with you?” I asked.

“Absolutely not,” said Marcus.

“Let me rephrase it. We’re coming with you. We’ll stay out of the way. I can’t sit here waiting and not knowing what’s happening.”

Thirty minutes later, Aurelia and I were perched on hard stools in the corner of the command tent. The front was open, with a view to the vast plain where Marcus said the battle would be fought. At each corner of the tent were three guards, who stood at motionless attention with their swords drawn. Behind us were several medical tents with doctors and supplies at the ready. Another shelter covered barrels of water.

Nearby, a hundred or more horses were tethered to a rope strung between two posts. They munched the hay in front of them and nickered gently to each other. I found the sounds and the familiar smell of them soothing. A young tribune coming towards the tent stopped to stroke the muzzle of a brown mare, and whispered to her.

He saluted us and waited for instructions from Marcus. He had sparkling blue eyes that seemed to smile even as he talked about plans for evacuating the wounded once the battle started. With another smart salute, he was gone.

Marcus turned to us. “If I tell you to leave, you must do so without arguing,” he said. “In the event that our army is defeated, Castinus’s men won’t hesitate to attack these tents and massacre everyone here, including the guards. I’ve seen it happen, down to the last water boy and cook’s assistant. Do you promise? You each take a horse and ride back to the town without looking back.”

Aurelia and I both agreed and Marcus resumed his position at his table. I’d never seen him so serious. He frowned at the map in front of him and glanced out at the plain and back again. Aspar and Felix had already armored up and ridden out to lead their armies. I’d felt the beat of their horses’ hooves like an echo in my chest as my heart pounded with anticipation. Red and gold standards snapped in the breeze and trumpets sounded signals to give instructions for the troops to move into position.

“Look!” Aurelia grabbed my arm. A family of deer had wandered out of the forest on the far side of the plain and now stood close to the center, nibbling the short grass. The largest of them stood still, watching for predators, his head adorned by magnificent antlers.

A roll of thunder from the east sent the deer bounding back to the shelter of the forest and just seconds later, horses appeared in the distance. At first they were little more than a dark smudge on the horizon and gradually, they came into focus, wave after wave of cavalry and foot soldiers streaming towards the empty plain.

“It’s Castinus,” said Marcus. “The battle will start soon.”

I watched as Johannes’ commander led his infantry on to the south side of the field, where they lined up in perfect rows, flanked on both sides by his equites. To the north, Aspar’s troops appeared, and the two armies faced each other across the wide, open space between them. For a few minutes, everything was still and quiet and I could hear the silence hissing in my ears. Then a burst of sound from a trumpet tore through the air and both armies shouted their battle cries. The cavalry charged and the beat of a thousand hooves made the ground vibrate under my feet. The infantry on both sides moved forward towards each other and engaged in the middle of the field. The ring of swords hitting shields filled the air.

The command tent sprang to life. Messengers ran in and out, bringing reports and relaying commands from Marcus. He was in his rightful element, I thought, and felt humbled to be in his presence. Suddenly, he seemed taller, his shoulders broader. All his years of experience as Magister Militum shone through in his calm demeanor. He spoke to the messengers in quiet tones that I could hardly hear while my own pulse was racing.

The day wore on, and the weather closed in, with black masses of cloud that rolled across the sky but released no rain. Thunder grumbled constantly, echoing around the distant hills, and an occasional bolt of lightning lit up the battlefield.

Battles were not orderly or tidy, I realized. The plain was clogged with groups of foot soldiers engaged in hand to hand combat, swords raised high, smashing against shields. Horses reared while their riders wielded heavy blades against men on the ground. Flights of arrows shot through the air like black ribbons. I was far enough from the action that the sounds of the fighting were soft and muted. A bird sang in a tree nearby, making the scene in front of me feel unreal and dreamlike.

Not long after noon, a messenger ran in and gave a note to Marcus. At once, Marcus hurried outside the shelter and stared towards the west. Aurelia and I joined him. “What is it?” I asked.

He pointed. “There. Aetius and the Hun federales.”

I felt my legs tremble when I saw the Hun army for the first time, a monstrous, black wave that rolled forward relentlessly.

“There are so many of them,” said Aurelia.

Transfixed by the sight, Aurelia and I stayed where we were, even when the first drops of rain began to fall. Within minutes we were soaked through but I couldn’t move. The Huns were all on horseback and they rode fast, bent low over their horses’ necks and yelling unintelligibly as they galloped closer to the battlefield. At the forefront was their young commander, Aetius. Although I strained my eyes, he was too far away for me to see him clearly. He brought them to a halt at the edge of the field and they waited. For a while, I thought that perhaps they would not engage but then I watched in horror as the horde spilled on to the battlefield, and then split into several groups, each one slashing its way through Aspar’s troops with axes and spears.

One unit was able to get close to Aspar and I wanted to shout a warning even though I knew no one could hear me. Aspar’s men were already rallying around him. Facing outward, they slashed at their attackers with their swords, refusing to allow the Huns access to their commander. One by one, the Huns were cut down, and Aspar, seeing an opening, kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks, and raised his sword high in the air. He raced across the field and I realized he was heading towards Aetius. Confronted by more Huns, he wheeled his horse out of harm’s way and lashed out with his sword, felled two of the attackers and, changing direction, he rode again towards Aetius. Ten or more Hun soldiers blocked his way, and he landed a powerful blow on the arm of one. Even from where I stood, I saw blood spurting from the wound before the soldier slumped to the ground. Then Aspar sliced though neck of another defender, and his horse trampled the head that rolled under its hooves.

Aurelia turned away, covering her eyes with her hands. I put an arm around her shoulders and felt her tremble. When I looked back at the field, Aspar was riding away, pursued by several Hun soldiers. The blood pounded in my ears and I prayed no harm would come to him. I caught sight of Felix, unmistakable in his massive cuirass and helmet, and looked in vain for a glimpse of the young, blue-eyed tribune we had seen earlier in the day. The field was littered with wounded and dead, many of whom were trampled by horses where they lay. Anger rose like bile in my throat and I wanted to run screaming at the attackers and fell them one by one.

So much death in the name of a usurper.

Suddenly exhausted, I went back into the shelter of the tent with Aurelia and we sat on a hard wooden bench. Our cloaks and hair dripped rainwater on to the sandy earth, forming a dark circle around us. Rain pattered on the tent roof. It was a sound I’d always associated with Ataulf and my journey with the Goths, one that I’d found comforting. Now, it depressed me. I untied the ribbons that held my cloak around my neck. They were cold and clammy, and felt like dead fingers against my throat. From where I sat, I saw only a grey curtain of rain. At least it obscured my view of the battlefield. I wasn’t squeamish; I had seen so much spilled blood during my time with the Goths and I’d faced terrible violence. But this battle unnerved me, perhaps because it was being fought for me. I could have stayed in Constantinople and not pressed the claim for Valentinian. Now, all these brave men were dying because I wanted to put my son on the throne.

“It’s not true, you know,” said Aurelia, leaning over and closing my hand over mine.

“What isn’t?”

“That this is your fault,” replied Aurelia. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re taking responsibility for this battle, but you shouldn’t. If your father could speak to you, he’d tell you that you are doing the right thing. The minute Honorius died without naming a successor, there was a gaping void. Theodosius tried to fill it and failed. And Johannes is merely an opportunist who grabbed the throne, cheered on by others who stand to gain by supporting him. The deaths from this battle should be on his conscience, not yours. I don’t expect you to be happy about what’s happening out there, but please don’t feel guilty.”

I straightened my shoulders. “Thank you, Aurelia,” I said, surprised as I often had been over the years, by my friend’s ability to see into my soul.

I glanced at Marcus, who was sitting at his table, resting his leg, and talking with the messengers.

“What do you think, Marcus?” I asked. “Are we winning or losing?”

“Things are going better than we expected,” he said. “Aetius and Castinus have never fought together before, and have no joint plan of action. The Huns are fighting their own battle, leaving Castinus and his men isolated and vulnerable. Come, I’ll show you.” He led the way out of the shelter, oblivious to the rain, and pointed to the field.

“See, Felix is taking advantage of their lack of cohesion and is closing in around Castinus and his forces. He’s pushing them back towards the forest, where he already has men ready and waiting. They’ll attack Castinus from behind.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” said Aurelia and Marcus laughed but without humor. “Nothing about this battle is fair. Neither Johannes sending Roman forces against us or Aetius bringing Huns here to support him. We do what we must, Aurelia.”

“That’s just what I was telling Placidia,” she said. “So you’re feeling optimistic?”

Marcus shook his head. “I never predict the outcome because, sometimes, a random event changes everything. The Huns are a formidable force. They may not appear as organized as a Roman unit but they fight without fear and they are more agile on their horses than most Roman cavalrymen. Young Aetius is a good commander and is giving Aspar a hard time. We have several hours of daylight left and a lot will happen before nightfall.”

Wound tight with anxiety, I went back to my seat in the tent and watched as wounded men were carried past us to the medical tents. Young grooms led out fresh horses, and brushed and fed the few valiant creatures that had survived their time on the battlefield.

An hour later, a messenger arrived and Marcus jumped to his feet and hurried out of the tent. Aurelia and I followed. The rain had stopped but the ground underfoot was slick and muddy and I wondered what it must be like down on the battlefield with thousands of boots and hooves churning up the wet turf. When I looked at the field, it appeared that the battle had stopped. In the center a few soldiers fought, the metallic clang of their swords carrying on the still air. In the distance near the forest, I could see another group of soldiers but they were standing still, looking at something on the ground. The Huns, together with their leader, Aetius, seemed to have disappeared.

Shocked, I looked at Marcus. “What’s happening?”

“You remember I told you that a single event can change the outcome of any battle? That’s what happened here. One of Felix’s men brought down Castinus with a catapult shot. That’s Castinus lying on the ground. He fell from his horse and we think he’s dead. His troops are confused and demoralized and have stopped fighting back. Some of them have left the field.”

“Where did the Huns go?”

“We’re not sure yet. We should get a report from the patrols soon. Ah, here comes some news.”

I turned to see four of Aspar’s men approaching. They were dragging along another soldier, a short man with long dark hair, who struggled against the ropes that bound his arms and feet. His face was broad and flat, and he had a livid scar that ran from his forehead to his chin across an empty eye socket, a shocking mark of prior violence.

The soldiers brought him to within a few yards and stopped, holding him even tighter.

“A Hun prisoner, sir,” said one of them. “Commander Aspar said you wanted more information on the Hun movements. I can translate.”

The Hun’s face creased into a sneer and he spat on the ground in front of us. He was one of the ugliest men I’d ever seen, and he seemed ready to explode with fury. Marcus asked some questions and the soldier repeated them to the prisoner in a strange and indecipherable language. The Hun answered none of them. Instead, he grinned; a maniacal rictus that chilled my blood. He reminded me of Sigeric and, for a moment, my head was filled with memories of that dark time. Taking a deep breath, I pushed them away and kept my eyes on the man in front of me.