sound of voices that cried, ‘Maximus, Maximus,’ as though in acclamation. Yet when I looked behind me, I could see nothing but the bowed grass, and hear nothing but the plaintive cry of a kestrel, gliding before the wind.
“I returned to the city, and I was empty with pain. I went up the stairs in Romulus to that room where I had once stood and made plans, and held false dreams of the Purple. I remember that I sat beside the window, and I put my head in my hands; and I wept. And then the Bishop came and touched my shoulder. He did not know what to say.
“I cried out then: ‘I do not know what to do? I should have died out there with my men. Oh, Mithras, God of the Sun, why did you not let me die?’
“The Bishop held out his hand, and in it was a sword that I recognised.
“‘It is yours.’ he said. ‘It was left for you by the man who brought you to my house. Do what you wish, Maximus. Stay here; I shall not ask questions. I have neither thanked you nor cursed you for what you did. It is not for me to judge, and I shall not do so.’
“I looked at him in despair; but even I could see that he looked ill. He, too, had suffered through my failure.
“I stayed. What else was there to do?
“He was more sick than I realised and, before the winter came, Mauritius, Bishop of Treverorum was dead; and I was more lonely than ever.
“In the spring, a new Praefectus Praetorio arrived, sent by Honorius to investigate the damage that had been done. It was a difficult time. There was war in the south; Constantinus was man?uvering against the imperial troops; and the land was still full of plundering bands who had deserted the main body of their tribe.” Maximus paused. He said, contemptuously, “But the first thing they asked the council for—was chariot races to amuse the people. Nothing had changed, you see.
“Later, I heard that Stilicho had fallen. The intrigues of a court eunuch succeeded where barbarian soldiers had failed. He could have fought back, but he did not wish for civil war. Unjustly condemned by the emperor he had served so faithfully, he walked to his execution with free hands.
“Then I grew restless, and I thought, why not? I have nothing to lose? I will go to Rome. I am an old man. No-one will harm me. That, at least, is one ambition I can fulfil without hurt to any man. I took a little of the money that the Bishop had left me, and I went; but I was too late. The country-side was filled with waggons and people, fleeing as though before an invading army. I knew the signs so well.”
Maximus paused, and laughed quietly. “I stood on the road, a mile away—think of that—only a mile from the Aurelian gate, and I watched Rome burn as Alaric and his Goths sacked the city after their fashion. I watched his hordes straggle up the road with their booty, and I saw a frightened woman upon a horse, her ankles tied beneath its belly, who was their prisoner. It was Galla Placidia, but I did not help her. Honorius would not have cared; and I had no wish to be a slave.
“I turned and made my way back to Gaul, and on my way I met a courier in the imperial service, taking a rescript to the government of my old island. It was a long and hazardous journey, and he had little stomach for the task. He offered me gold to take it for him. I agreed. I carried the letter in the end of my sleeve, pinned over my damaged wrist, for safety, you understand.
“So I came back, and I went to Londinium, and I found a man who called himself governor of that city. ‘Well,’ I said. ‘You may choose as many emperors as you please. Honorius has freed you at last. You must look to yourselves now—if you can.’ Then I went north and found Saturninus, and I broke his heart with the news of his son. He asked me to stay and, if Fabianus had been alive, I would have done so. But he is dead, and I could not. So—I came back here to Segontium where it all began.”
Maximus stood up. “I have kept you awake when you should have slept. You are safe enough here in your cold mountains.”
The chief of his listeners rose and faced him. He was a tall man with cold eyes and a beaked nose. He said, “We do not always sleep. Somewhere we shall find others who are like ourselves. And somewhere there will be a man with a sword, who has a purpose as you had.”
“He may be hard to find.”
“We shall find him.”
“You are quite certain.”
“Yes,” said the tall man. “Quite certain.”
Maximus said, “They have no tombstones. Not one man in Treverorum wept for their passing.” He looked at his audience in turn and smiled. “In the name of Mithras, my Master, may the Gods be kind to you on your journey.”
“And you?” asked the tall man.
“I, also, have a journey to make.”
“Where do you go?”
“To the Gods of the Shades.”
The tall man nodded. He said, formally, “Then may you live in God.”
Maximus bent down and then straightened up, the sword resting in the crook of his arm. He raised his head and turned his eyes upwards to the sun. He said, “What is the end of it all? Smoke and ashes, a handful of bones, and a legend. Perhaps not even a legend.”
They watched him go through the broken gate, heard his feet, heavy on the flint strewn path. “He is going to his temple in the woods,” said the tall man. “Listen.”
There was a long silence, and then a deep voice cried, “Mithras!” and the cry echoed back across the hill. And after that the silence went on for ever.
LIST OF PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS
Those marked with an asterisk are known to history.
Aelia — wife to P. G. Maximus
Agilio — post commander. Thirtieth Milestone.
*Alaric — Prince of the Visigoths
Aquila — Chief Centurion, 20th Legion
Artorius — Curator of Augusta Treverorum
Barbatio — Praefectus of auxiliaries at Moguntiacum
*Chariobaudes — C. in C. the Army of Gaul.
*Constans — son to Constantinus
*Constantinus — Chief of Staff at Eburacum; later self-styled emperor
Didius — squadron commander, 20th Legion
Fabianus — son to Saturninus
Flavius — garrison commander at Augusta Treverorum
Fredbal — a prisoner of war
Fredegar — sword-brother to Marcomir
