Attila:The Scourge of God

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:

No man will ever be safe if he forgets you;

May I praise you still when the sun is dark.

To count up the glories of Rome is like counting

The stars in the sky.

And take Claudian:

To Roman laws, submission Bactria shows,

The Ganges pale ‘mid captive borders flows;

And Persia, at our foot with humble air,

Spreads costly ornaments and jewels rare.

Your course to Bacchus’³ utmost limits bend;

From pole to pole your Empire shall extend.

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 otium⁴ 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 Tolosa⁵ (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 Burdigala⁷ 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!