Evolution

staff had disappeared, and the last Roman soldiers left clinging to their posts, ill-paid, badly equipped, and demoralized, had failed to prevent the breakdown of order.

Thus the western empire had fallen, almost unremarked. New nations emerged amid the political rubble, and slaves became kings.

And so, from the kingdom of Odoacer, covering Italy and the remnants of the old provinces of Raetia and Noricum to the north, Athalaric and Honorius passed through the kingdom of the Burgundians, which spanned much of the hinterland of the Rhone to the east of Gaul, and the kingdom of the Soissons in northern France, before returning at last to their western Gothic kingdom.

Athalaric had feared his jaunt into the failing heart of the old empire might leave him overwhelmed by the inferiority of his people’s meager achievements. But when he at last got home he found the opposite seemed to be true. After the crumbling grandeur of Rome, Burdigala indeed seemed small, provincial, primitive, even ugly. But Burdigala was expanding. Large new developments were visible all around its harbor area, and the harbor itself was crowded with ships.

Rome was magnificent, but it was dead. This was the future — his future, his to make.

Athalaric’s uncle Theodoric was a remote cousin of Euric, the Goth king of Gaul and Spain. Theodoric, who nursed long-term ambitions for his family, had set up a kind of satellite court in an old, expansive Roman villa outside Burdigala. When he heard about the exotic visitors brought back by Honorius and Athalaric, he insisted they stay in his villa, and he immediately began to plan a series of social occasions to show off the visitors, as well as the accomplishments and travels of his nephew.

At these occasions, Theodoric was to entertain members of the new Goth nobility — and also Roman aristocrats.

If political control had been lost, the culture of the thousand-year-old empire persisted. The new German rulers showed themselves willing to learn from the Romans. The Goth king Euric had had the laws of his kingdom drawn up by Roman jurists and issued in Latin; it was this body of law which Athalaric had been assigned to Honorius to study. And meanwhile the old landed aristocracy of the empire continued to live alongside the newcomers. Many of them, with centuries of acquisition behind them, remained rich and powerful even now.

Even after visiting Rome itself, Athalaric found it ironic to see these toga-clad scions of ancient families, many of them still holding imperial titles, among leather-clad barbarian nobles, gliding effortlessly through rooms whose genteel frescoes and mosaics were now overlaid with the cruder imagery of a warrior people, horseback warriors with their helmets, shields, and lances. It could be argued — Honorius did argue — that with their systematic greed, practiced over centuries, these exquisite creatures had destroyed the very empire that created them. But for these aristocrats, the replacement of the vast imperial superstructure with the new patchwork of Gothic and Burgundian chiefs had made no significant difference in their own gilded lives.

In fact, for some of them, it seemed that the collapse of the empire had actually opened up business opportunities.

As a trophy guest the Scythian proved less than satisfactory for Theodoric. The man from the desert seemed revolted by the elaborate atrium, gardens, and rooms of the villa. He preferred to spend his time in the room Theodoric had granted him. But he ignored the bed and the rest of the furniture in the room, spread the rolled blanket he carried on the floor, and set up a kind of tent of sheets. It was as if he had brought the desert to Gaul.

If the Scythian was a social disappointment, Papak was a success, as Athalaric had sourly expected. Bringing a whiff of the exotic, the Persian moved smoothly among Theodoric’s guests, barbarian and citizen alike. He flirted outrageously with the women, and captivated the men with his tales of the peculiar dangers of the east. Everyone was charmed.

One of Papak’s most popular innovations was chess. This was a game, he said, recently invented to amuse the court of Persia. Nobody in Gaul had heard of it, and Papak had one of Theodoric’s craftsman carve a board and pieces for him. The game was played on a six-by-six grid of squares, over which pieces shaped like horses or warriors moved and battled. The rules were simple, but the strategy was deceptively deep. The Goths — who still prided themselves on their warrior credentials, even though many of them had not been near a horse in twenty years — relished the sublimated combat of the new game. Their first tournaments were fast and bloody affairs. But under Papak’s tactful tutelage, the better players soon grasped the game’s subtleties, and the matches became drawn out and interesting.

As for Honorius himself, he was irritated that the parlor games of a Persian were so much more compelling than his tales of old bones. But then, Athalaric thought with exasperated fondness, the old man never had been much of a one for social niceties, and still less for the intricacies of court life. Honorius insisted on sticking to his usual games of backgammon, played with his cronies from the old landed aristocracy — 'the game of Plato,' as he called it.

After a few days of the stay, Theodoric called his nephew into a private room.

Athalaric was surprised to find Galla here. Tall, dark-haired, with the classical prominent nose of her Roman forebears, Galla was the wife of one of the more prominent citizens of the community. But at forty she was some twenty years younger than her husband, and it was well known that she was the power in his household.

A grave expression on his bearded face, Theodoric placed his hand on his nephew’s arm. 'Athalaric, we need your help.'

'You have a job for me?'

'Not exactly. We have a job for Honorius — and we want you to persuade him to take it. Let us try to explain why—'

As Theodoric talked, Athalaric was aware of Galla’s cool eyes appraising him, the slight opening of her full mouth. There was a myth among some of these last Romans that the barbarians were a younger, more vigorous race. Galla, in exploring intimacy with men she saw as little better than savages, might be seeking a muscular excitement she must lack in her own marriage to an etiolated citizen.

But Athalaric, a mere five years older than Galla’s own twin children, had no desire to be the toy of a decadent aristocrat. He returned her gaze coolly, his face impassive.

This subtle transaction was played out completely beneath the attention of Theodoric.

Now Galla said smoothly, 'Athalaric, a mere three decades ago, as even I can remember, this kingdom of Euric’s was still a federate settlement within the empire. Things have changed rapidly. But there are strict barriers between our peoples. Marriage, the law, even the Church—'

Theodoric sighed. 'She is right, Athalaric. There are many tensions in this young society of ours.'

Athalaric knew this was true. The new barbarian rulers lived by their traditional laws, which they saw as part of their identity, while their subjects clung to Roman law, which for their part they saw as a set of universal rules. Disputes over differing rulings made under the two systems were common. Meanwhile, intermarriage was forbidden. Though all parties were Christian, the Goths followed the teachings of Arius and were met with hostility by their mostly Catholic subjects. And so on.

All of this was a barrier to the assimilation the imperial Romans had practiced so successfully for so many centuries — an assimilation that had led to stability and social longevity. If this place were still under Roman rule, then Theodoric would have had an excellent chance of becoming a full Roman citizen. But the sons of Galla were forever excluded from being accepted as equals by the Goths, forever denied true power.

Athalaric listened gravely to all of this. 'It is difficult, but Honorius has taught me nothing if not that time is long, and that in time everything changes. Perhaps these barriers will ultimately melt away.'

Theodoric nodded. 'I myself believe it is so. I sent you to study in a Roman school, and later with Honorius.' He chuckled. 'My father would never have allowed such a thing. He didn’t believe in schools! If you learn to fear a teacher’s strap now, you will never learn to look on a sword or javelin without a shudder. To him, we were warriors before anything else. But we, these days, are a different generation.'

'And the better for it,' said Galla. 'The empire will never come back. But I truly believe that some day, out of the union of our peoples here and across the continent, new blood will arise, new kinds of strength and vision.'

Athalaric raised his eyebrows. Something in her tone reminded him unfortunately of Papak, and he wondered what she was trying to sell his uncle. He said dryly, 'But in the meantime, before that marvelous day comes to pass—'

'In the meantime I am concerned for my children.'

'Why? Are they in peril?'

'In fact, yes,' Galla said, letting her irritation show. 'You have been away too long, young man, or else you have your head too firmly buried in Honorius’s teachings.'

'There have been attacks,' Theodoric said. 'Property damage, fires, thefts.'

'Directed against the Romans?'

'I am afraid so.' Theodoric sighed. 'I, who remember how it was, would like to preserve what was best about the empire — stability, peace, learning, a just system of law. But the young know nothing of this. Like their forefathers who lived simpler lives on the northern plains, they hate what they know of the empire: power over the land, the people, riches from which they were excluded.'

'And so they wish to punish those who remain,' said Athalaric.

Galla said, 'Why they behave as they do scarcely matters. What is important is what must be done to stop them.'

'I have raised militia. The disturbances can be quelled, but they erupt again elsewhere. What we need is a solution for the long term. We must restore the balance.' Theodoric smiled. 'It is a paradox that I should come to believe it is necessary to make our Romans strong again.'

Athalaric snorted. 'How? Give them a legion? Raise Augustus from the dead?'

'Simpler than that,' Galla said, unmoved by his mockery. 'We must have a bishop.'

Now Athalaric began to understand.

Galla said, 'Remember, it was Pope Leo who persuaded Attila himself to turn back from the gates of Rome—'

'So that’s why I’m here. You want Honorius to become a bishop. And you want me to persuade him to do it.'

Theodoric nodded, pleased. 'Galla, I told you the boy is perspicacious.'

Athalaric shook his head. 'He will refuse. Honorius is not — worldly. He is interested in his old bones, not in power.'

Theodoric sighed. 'But there is a shortage of candidates, Athalaric. Forgive me, madam, but too many of the Roman gentry have proved themselves fools — arrogant, greedy, overbearing.'

'My husband among them,' Galla said evenly. 'There is no offense to be given by the truth, my lord.'

Theodoric said, 'It is only Honorius who commands true respect — perhaps because of his lack of worldliness.' He eyed Athalaric. 'If it had not been so I would never have been able to release you to his tutelage.'

Galla leaned forward. 'I understand your misgivings, Athalaric. But will you try nevertheless?'

Athalaric shrugged. 'I will try, but—'

Galla’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm. 'As long as he lives, Honorius is the only candidate for the position; no other can fill the role. As long as he lives. I trust you will try very hard to persuade him, Athalaric.'

Suddenly Athalaric saw power in her: the power of an ancient empire, the power of an angry, threatened mother. He pulled himself free of her grip, disturbed by her intensity.

Honorius prepared for the last leg of the epic journey he had first conceived on meeting the Scythian on the edge of the eastern deserts.

A traveling party formed up. The core was Honorius, Athalaric, Papak, and the Scythian, just as it had been before. But now some of Theodoric’s militia traveled with them — away from the towns, the country was far from safe — along with a handful of the more inquisitive young Goths and even some members of the old Roman families.

So they journeyed west.

As it happened they were all but retracing the steps taken by Rood’s hunting party, some thirty thousand years earlier. But the ice had long retreated to its northern fortresses — so long ago,