‘I see a wild ass running over the plains, and an eagle flying above it. Together, they attack and put to flight a wild boar.’ Unbidden, the words in which the seer Wu Tze had described the first part of his vision, rang in Attila’s brain. Suddenly, the meaning of the words was clear: the wild ass of the plains must represent the Huns; the eagle was the symbol of imperial Rome; the wild boar was a favourite emblem among the Germans, standing for courage and ferocity. In other words, the Huns and Romans would join together to defeat the Germans — exactly what was beginning to develop! Awe tinged with dread rose in the King. What did the rest of the vision mean? Angrily, he shut his mind against further speculation. Attila would be the master of his own destiny.
When Titus reached the village where his family lived, he found it semi-deserted. Under Chief Vadomir, Clothilde’s father, all the able-bodied men had left to join the host of King Gundohar, which had headed north to claim more land for the tribe. Rumours had filtered back of fighting with the Romans, but whether skirmishing or pitched battles was unclear. His joy at being reunited with Clothilde and Marcus was clouded by awareness that, should things go against the Burgundians, the village might become the scene of fighting or the target of raiding- parties. That night, when both were spent after passionate lovemaking, made more intense by long separation and the present ambience of insecurity, Titus mentioned his fears to Clothilde.
‘Come away with me,’ he added on sudden impulse. ‘You, I, and Marcus, travelling as a small group, could easily make it to Roman-occupied Gaul. My horse can carry you and Marcus, and we can ride and tie.’
‘And leave my family and my people, at this time of peril for them?’ She sat up below the furs that covered their bed, and gently traced her husband’s features with her hand. ‘Darling, my heart urges me to do as you suggest. But. .’
‘But your conscience tells you otherwise,’ Titus completed the sentence. ‘I understand,’ he said bitterly. ‘At least, I think I do.’ He gazed at her in the faint illumination from the embers of the cooking-fire. Her face, serene and relaxed after love, and framed in heavy coils of flaxen hair, had never looked so beautiful. He was filled with an aching love, and a fierce longing to protect her and their child.
‘As my husband, you could command me and I would have to obey,’ she said. ‘But that would not be the Titus I married, the man I know and love.’
‘I can’t bear the thought of harm coming to you!’ exclaimed Titus in anguish, knowing that the price of forcing his family to flee would be the loss of her respect and, in the end, her love. ‘What must I do?’ he cried, more to himself than to Clothilde.
‘What would Gaius Valerius have done, my love?’ she murmured gently, planting a kiss on her husband’s brow.
All at once Titus’ doubts and inner conflict cleared away. Gaius would have stayed — as he, Titus, must. It was the right, the
‘My people need a leader,’ said Clothilde, seeming to sense her husband’s change of mood. ‘Darling, you could be that leader. The men left behind are old and weak, and they are also, being Germans, by nature fierce and quarrelsome. Without someone to guide them, they would argue among themselves and nothing would be done to prepare against attack. If the Romans came, they would rush out against them with what makeshift arms they could collect, and all be killed. Then it would be the turn of the women and children. But you, my dearest, are young and strong. You have served among the Romans and know how war is managed. It might take persuasion, perhaps even knocking heads together, but the villagers would listen if you put a plan to them. If an attack came from regular Roman troops, you as a Roman might be able to negotiate peaceful surrender terms. Alan or Frankish federates fighting under Rome’s banner would be a different matter.’
‘But the Franks are Germans like yourselves. Surely they would be more likely to spare the village.’
‘Not so. There is little fellow feeling between the German tribes. We may mostly be tall, fair-haired and blue-eyed, speak variants of the same tongue, have once all worshipped the same fierce gods, but that’s as far as it goes. To a Frank, a Burgundian is almost as much a foreigner or a potential enemy as a Roman. And federate troops, whatever tribe they may belong to, are notoriously undisciplined. Believe me, if the Franks come, rape and slaughter will be the village’s likely fate. If the Alans — who are not even Germans but of eastern origin — such a fate will be a certainty. But no more about such things for the present. Now we should sleep, my love. But first, let us pray to Christ, who is both your Lord and mine. He will surely guide you through every trial in the days ahead.’
Titus looked round the circle of old men, women and children gathered in the open space before the village meeting-house. Most looked indifferent, some even hostile. ‘My name is Titus Valerius Rufinus,’ he announced in German. ‘Thank you for agreeing to hear me. I think you all know who I am — the husband of Clothilde, Vadomir’s daughter.’
‘And a Roman,’ growled an ancient greybeard. ‘I fought against Gratian and the first Theodosius, and one lesson I learnt was never trust the Romans. Both those emperors broke treaty after treaty with our people. I say the Romans are a perfidious race. Why should we listen to you, who are one of them?’
‘Yes, I am a Roman,’ responded Titus, keeping his tone mild and friendly. ‘By accident of birth. But my only concern at this moment is to protect my family, and — if you’ll let me — help you to protect yourselves. Will you at least allow me to try?’
He sensed the villagers’ mood alter subtly as a result of his appeal. There followed some whispered discussion, in which an elderly uncle of Clothilde seemed to be swaying the argument in Titus’ favour. Then the previous speaker, apparently the dominant figure in the assembly, spoke again — this time in a less bellicose voice. ‘Very well, Roman, tell us what we should do.’
‘Our first line of defence must be the palisade,’ said Titus, relieved that he could now take charge. ‘I’m assuming that all weapons will have been taken by the fighting men. So we must improvise. Scythe-blades fixed to staves, pitchforks, billhooks, axes, sledgehammers — they all make effective weapons, especially billhooks. That will be the task of the men. I’m putting you in charge,’ he said to the graybeard. ‘All right?’ The other smiled sardonically but nodded.
‘Should the palisade be carried,’ Titus continued, ‘we will retreat to the village’s strongest building, the meeting-house behind us here. The most vulnerable part of it will be the thatch, so the women and girls must fill every kettle, pail and cauldron — anything that holds water. Clothilde, will you organize that?’ A look of mutual love and trust flashed between husband and wife, assuring Titus that that particular task was in safe hands.
‘Now, you boys and girls,’ Titus concluded. He held up a small gold coin which gleamed enticingly in the late- spring sunshine. ‘This
After days of anxious waiting, the attack came suddenly. Titus had posted lookouts close to the forest verge. Shortly before noon, one came running with the news that he had spotted horsemen approaching through the trees. A horn was sounded to recall the other sentries and warn the villagers. All came hurrying into the central space before the meeting-house.
‘You all know what to do,’ Titus said quietly. ‘Men and youngsters over twelve, proceed now to your stations at the palisade. The rest go inside the meeting-house. ‘We’ll join you if the fence falls.’
Looking out over the empty fields surrounding the defences (the cattle had been brought inside the village), Titus was aware of his heart thumping violently. Soon he might be fighting for his life. Against fellow Romans, he suddenly realized. What did that make him? With an effort, he suppressed the thought. He was defending his family — as any man would, whatever the circumstances. And that was all that mattered.
This was his first command: he suddenly felt a huge weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Had it been arrogant presumption to persuade these people to appoint him their leader? His experience of war was limited to being present at two minor battles in which, strictly speaking, he had not even been a fighting soldier. Well, it was too late now for doubts; besides, Clothilde — one of the most perceptive people he knew — seemed to have every faith in him.
At least the palisade was strong. Composed of stout ten-foot logs driven deep into the ground, with an
