Attila:The Scourge of God

And so it proved. On the night of 19 June, Attila’s headlong retreat slowed; his rearguard was overtaken by the allies’ van, which led to a bloody clash between the Franks and Gepids. While the confused skirmishing was raging in the moonlight, Aetius, leaving his generals Aegidius and Majorian³ to contain the situation, rode off to reconnoitre the terrain. A risk, but one he felt he had to take. Although he intended making a wide flanking detour to avoid the Hun positions, the chance of encountering outlying hostile pickets couldn’t be discounted.

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 Lauriacum⁵ which lie within federate or abandoned territory, are no longer in production, while the ones in Gaul that are — as at Durocortorum and Argentorate Stratisburgum⁶ 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 Vesontio⁷ 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 river⁸ 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-