Theodoric (40 page)

In 408 Alaric, king of the Visigoths, laid siege to Rome in an attempt to force the Western Emperor, Honorius, to grant his people a homeland and recognized status within the empire. Negotiations seemed to begin well, and the siege was called off. However, provoked by endless vacillation on the part of Honorius, Alaric lost patience and in 410 sacked the city. Although little damage was done and few lives lost, the sack had huge symbolic importance, sending shock waves reverberating round the Roman world.

The Romans dated important events ‘from the Founding of the City –
ab urbe condita
' or AUC (753
BC
) – but for most dating purposes the names of the consuls for any given year were used, one from Rome, the other from Constantinople. Dates within any given month were calculated by counting the number of days occurring
before
the next of the three fixed days dividing the Roman month: Kalends, the first day of the month, the Nones on the 5th or 7th, and the Ides on the 13th or 15th. (In March, May, July, and October, the Nones fell on the 7th and the Ides on the 15th, in the remaining months on the 5th and 13th respectively.) Thus, the Ides of January happening on the 13th of that month, the next day would be termed by a Roman not the 14th, but the 19th
before the Kalends of February
, reckoning inclusively, i.e., taking in both the 14th of January and the 1st of February; and so on to the last day of the month which was termed
pridie Kalendas
.

This began life as a huge triumphal arch erected
c
. 390 by Theodosius I. Originally outside the city, it was incorporated into the new Walls built by Theodosius II. The gates themselves were originally covered in gold plate, hence the name.

Egyptian carvings of the fifth and sixth centuries show soldiers of this unit, identifiable from the sunflower-like design on their shields, in graphic detail. They are portrayed wearing very traditional gear that would not have looked out of place on Trajan's Column: scale armour with pteruges (protective leather strips) at the shoulders and between the groin and knees, and classical ‘Attic' helmets complete with brow reinforcements and cheek-pieces. (In the Eastern Empire, uniforms tended to be more conservative than in the West, perhaps because of the influence of Hellenic tradition – the conquests of Alexander, the Persian Wars, etc.)

These dances, known as
Kukeri
, are still performed in some places in Bulgaria, always by male dancers. Dressed in animal skins, including masks often made from the heads, they parade in a trance-like state through towns and villages, chanting and shouting, to drive away evil spirits. The dances are thought to have originated from the ancient Thracians.

Elizabeth the Thaumaturge, or Miracle-Worker, was a popular saint who arose in Constantinople during Leo's reign. She reputedly killed a dragon, after first ‘sealing' it in its cave with her crucifix. For this and various miracles of healing she was canonized, her feast-day being 24 April – the day after that of St George (coincidence, or what?). The monastery described in the text is loosely based on Bulgaria's famous Rila Monastery, dating originally from 927 (though since heavily restored), so not
too
remote in time from my fictional one.

German master-swordsmiths of the Migration Period (Frankish ones especially) were capable of producing blades whose construction involved a very high degree of craftsmanship. The best ones were made by ‘pattern-welding', in which several iron rods were twisted together, beaten flat, then edged with steel. When washed with acid, the sword's flat surfaces
displayed beautiful patterns rather like those of watered silk. Naturally, weapons of such quality were time-consuming to produce and therefore expensive, so were possessed only by individuals of high status.

Strictly, the Norns belong to Scandinavian rather than Teutonic mythology. But as the pantheon of these ethnically virtually identical peoples was intimately entwined (Odin/Woden/Wotan et al.), I felt I could legitimately mention them in this context. Although the Goths were now Christian, lingering adherence to the old warlike deities must have persisted just below the surface, especially with people nurtured on heroic myth.

Gothic words such as
baurg
(town),
kind
(kin),
gards
(large house) and
haims
(village) show close affinity with
burg/burgh
,
cyn
,
garth
,
ham
from our own Anglo-Saxon and Viking linguistic heritage – showing that Germanic and Nordic languages have common roots, even when spoken by peoples widely separated by geography. That we have a comprehensive knowledge of the Gothic language is thanks to one Ulfila or Ulfilas, a Gothic missionary who, from 340 till his death in 381, was largely successful in converting his people to (Arian) Christianity, and whose translation of the Bible into Gothic we still possess.

Ancient sources – Jordanes, Anonymous Valesianus, et al. (they refer to Erelieva as
concubina
) – confirm that her marriage to Thiudimer was invalid. That Thiudimund could entertain realistic hopes of succeeding Thiudimer is suggested by Jordanes in
Getica
, where he points out that, on his father's death, Thiudimund was completely passed over as heir,
contrary to traditional practice
(my italics). If his birth were legitimate (in contrast to Theoderic's), this of course would provide a strong basis for such hopes. To reinforce this possibility, I have given Theoderic and Thiudimund different mothers, with Thiudimund's being married to Thiudimer. Speculation, admittedly, but, in the interests of giving a dramatic twist to the story, hopefully legitimate.

This curious feature, known as ‘brick-banding', is typical of the late Roman walls of many cities, e.g. Ankara, Diocletianopolis (Hissar, Bulgaria) and, most famously, Constantinople. The last example was the inspiration, nearly a thousand years later, for the variegated layering of the ramparts of Caernarvon Castle.

Nothing Roman remains today of Belgrade's Kalemegdan Citadel – hardly surprising, as it was razed and rebuilt many times in its long history, which stretches back to Celtic times. What can be seen today is mainly of Austro-Hungarian and Turkish (e.g., the Stambol Gate) construction from the eighteenth century. For lack of evidence on the site itself, I based the appearance of the gatehouse partly on Trier's late Roman Porta Nigra.

This was suggested by an incident in the film
The Vikings
, starring Kirk Douglas.

Nearer our own time, leaders of this stamp – charismatic personalities with the power to inspire others to
want
to follow them, include – Robert the Bruce, Henry V, Joan of Arc, Nelson, Napoleon (unfortunately), Shackleton and Churchill. There is evidence that,
c
. 471, Theoderic underwent something of a personality change (see Richard Rudgley's
Barbarians
) from the timid recluse of Constantinople to the young Alexander of Singidunum.

Jordanes is specific in stating that Theoderic crossed the Danube with his army, but does not explain how. He couldn't have used Constantine's great stone bridge at Oescus (even supposing it was still intact), as that was many miles downstream from Singidunum. Getting six thousand men across a wide river was the sort of thing Roman generals took in their stride. But for a teenage lad in charge of a large force of unruly barbarians . . . ? However it was done (and I've had to fall back on imagination here, for a solution), it was a remarkable feat.

A Roman portcullis? An anachronism, surely? This clever device was not, however, a medieval invention. According to Peter Connolly in his magnificent
Greece and Rome at War
, it is first mentioned during the Second Punic War; he also states that the channels for these gates can be seen at many Roman sites, including Nîmes, Aosta and Trier. The stratagem of using a stalled wagon to enter the gateway is based on a ruse by Scottish freedom fighters to take a castle in English hands (Linlithgow), during the Wars of Independence.

And keep it he did – the first incident (in 471) in an on–off relationship with the Eastern Empire which was to seesaw until 488 (when Zeno invited him to take over Italy from Odovacar), and re-emerge in the final decade of his life.

Sidonius Apollinaris – distinguished man of letters, aristocrat, bishop (of Arverna, 471–5), son-in-law of an emperor (Avitus) – was one of the few Gallo-Roman nobles who forcibly resisted the encroachments of the barbarians. Others of his class tended to make the best terms they could with their uninvited ‘guests' (a Roman euphemism for the German invaders!).

Mentioned briefly by Gildas and Nennius, little is known about Aurelianus beyond the fact that he was of Roman descent and headed British resistance against the Saxons some time in the fifth century. S. E. Wibolt in
Britain under the Romans
places him early in that century; Neil Faulkner in
The Decline and Fall of Roman Britain
dates his campaigns to
c
. 475–500.

In his
Vita Severini
, Eugippius (a monk who had been present at his
subject's death and gathered stories about him from his close companions) mentions the meeting with Odovacar, and describes in detail both the soldiers' expedition to draw their final pay instalment, and Severinus' organizing centres of defence. As Severinus refused to disclose anything about his origins, except some training as an ascetic in the eastern deserts, I felt at liberty to fill in the blanks. As he apparently spoke beautiful Latin, I thought it safe to assume that he was a cultured man of considerable education. In his account of the Batavan soldiers' journey, Eugippius implies that they were ambushed before they reached their destination; for dramatic reasons I have had this happen as they returned.

Aurelianus is historical, but Artorius – Arthur – belongs firmly in the realm of myth. Legends (first recorded
c
. 830 by a Welshman, Nennius) abound, but, so far, no hard evidence has come to light. However, the fact that the Arthur stories are known ‘wherever Celts have spoken a Brythonic tongue', suggest that his existence may be more than merely fabulous.

To say that the movements of the Amal branch of the Ostrogoths throughout the Balkans and Thrace in the decade 471–81 were convoluted would be like describing the ascent of Everest as a challenging hill-walk. For we're dealing with a tangled web of marches and counter-marches, double-dealing, promises made and broken, treaties signed then ignored, shifting alliances, negotiations running into the sand, etc., involving the relationship between, on the one hand, Thiudimer and then his son Theoderic and, on the other, Leo then Zeno, with the manoeuvrings of Strabo thrown in to muddy the water. To attempt a fictional version of all this without some radical abridgement would stretch the patience of most readers beyond snapping-point. So, following the example of Howard Fast in his novel
Spartacus
, I've gone in for a good deal of pruning and telescoping. For example, the confrontation between the two Theoderics at Mount Sondis in 478, and Thiudimund's abandoning of his wagons near Epidamnus in 479, I've
presented as two connected incidents in a single event. Also, I've moved Theoderic's route across the Balkan Mountains slightly to the west: from Marcianople (Mt Sondis) to Novae (Shipka Pass) as the latter feature makes an appropriately dramatic setting for the face-off between the two rivals.

So ended – with a whimper rather than a bang – five hundred years of empire (and, before that, five hundred years of the Roman Republic). The orthodoxy among some historians is that the collapse of the West was an organic process rather than an event, the date of its official end, 476, simply a marker for something that had in fact been going on for a considerable time. If, however, we put the date of the fall of the West back a few years, from 476 to 468, it
can
be seen as a single catastrophic event; before 468, the West was still salvageable after that date, its collapse was inevitable and swift (see Notes for the Prologue).

This time-honoured tradition – with its inherent sense of drama and occasion – held a special appeal for the Goths, for whom it seems to have been a favoured way of staging ‘summit meetings'. Other shame-and-honour societies have exhibited a similar penchant for dramatic panache when holding grand assemblies – Native American ‘pow-wows' or Highland clan gatherings, for example.