Attila:The Scourge of God

NINETEEN

‘Aetius, old friend, welcome!’ exclaimed Attila. The Roman general had just arrived in the Hun camp, accompanied by his son Carpilio, now grown into a tall, well-built young man. ‘It’s good to see you, Flavius,’ Attila declared warmly, ‘and you, too, Carpilio. You still have my gift, I see.’

‘I’ll never part with him sir,’ replied Carpilio, proudly, patting the neck of his beautiful Arab steed. ‘I’ve named him Pegasus for his speed and courage. You remember, sir, how he stood against the bear?’

‘How could I forget?’ murmured Attila dryly.

‘To what do we owe the honour of this visit?’ asked Attila, when he and his guests were ensconced in his private quarters within the wooden royal palace.

‘I come to ask a favour, old friend,’ said Aetius. ‘A very great favour. Twice in the past, the Huns have come to my assistance. Would they stand by me a third time, perhaps even a fourth?’

‘We were amply rewarded on both those occasions, I recall,’ said Attila, re-charging the Romans’ wooden cups with millet beer. ‘Why should we not help you again?’

‘This time, payment may have to be deferred,’ said Aetius with a rueful grin. ‘The West’s coffers are all but empty — I have to pay my field army in Gaul in kind. The loss of Britain, Africa, and part of Hispania, has decimated our revenue from taxes, and the federate Germans settled in Gaul are exempt from paying tribute.’

‘But you have something to offer as security?’ said Attila, giving an oily leer and rubbing his hands, in imitation of a Syrian moneylender.

‘Only the Western Empire,’ replied Aetius wryly. ‘Or what’s left of it. Oh, and Carpilio here has volunteered to stay behind as your hostage.’

‘Well, let us call the Empire an “ultimate surety”,’ laughed Attila, ‘and Carpilio is welcome to remain as our honoured guest. I hardly think we’ll be calling in those particular assets.’ He added with apparently careless generosity, ‘Pay us when you can, Flavius. Your word is pledge enough. But tell me, why do you need our help?’

‘My problem concerns Gaul. The German federates — Franks and Burgundians in the east, Visigoths in the south-west, — were, in theory, originally allowed to settle in the Empire on condition they would fight for Rome if called upon. In reality, of course, they just marched in and took the land; we weren’t strong enough to stop them. However, the government of our late lamented Honorius patched up a face-saving understanding with them which has, on the whole, held. They know that in a pitched battle my army will beat them every time — and that keeps them in check. But my soldiers can’t be everywhere at once, in the event of trouble breaking out on several fronts. Also, as I’ve mentioned, pay is a constant worry, to say nothing of replenishing inevitable wastage of men and supplies. Then there’s the Bagaudae.’

‘The Bagaudae?’

‘A brigands’ movement centred in Aremorica¹ in north-west Gaul, also active in Hispania. It’s made up chiefly of disaffected peasants and smallholders who’ve been taxed beyond endurance, and as a result have taken to a life of banditry. Their numbers have been swollen by fugitive slaves and army deserters. Their leader in Gaul is one Tibatto — a sort of latter-day Spartacus. They’re well organized, with their own courts and a quasi-military government of sorts. If the Bagaudae in Gaul were to start a full-scale revolt, I’d be hard pressed to cope.’

‘I can see you hardly have your troubles to seek,’ mused Attila. ‘What you’re asking for, then, is Hun backing to help suppress the federates, and these Bagaudae should they break out, if your field army can’t manage on its own?’

‘Exactly. Are you willing to provide that backing — in return for payment at a future date, if necessary?’

‘Just so. A poor friend he, who would not help another. And we two, Flavius, go back a long way. Consider the bargain sealed.’ And, in the Roman manner, he extended his hand. Aetius, his heart full, reached out and took it.

During his return journey to Gaul (minus Carpilio), Aetius pondered the implications of what his friend had said about his own intentions. Attila was expanding his territory north-westwards to the Oceanus Germanicus, Mare Suevicum² and Scandia³, thus adding to his realm all Germania outwith the Roman Empire. As he could field up to half a million mounted warriors at short notice, this ambitious project was not as formidable as it might seem. The plan was music to Aetius’ ears; at one stroke, the threat of further invasion by German tribes was cancelled, which would enable him to concentrate on pacifying Gaul.

Attila had also confided to Aetius his dream of establishing a great and lasting Empire of the Huns, extending eventually to include all the steppe peoples, and had asked Aetius for advice and help in setting up institutions which would provide ‘Greater Scythia’ with the necessary continuity and stability. In this connection, he had introduced Aetius to his Greek factotum, one Callisthenes, a garrulous little merchant with a single eye, who claimed a vast web of contacts throughout the whole steppe region. Inclined at first to dismiss the Greek as an empty amphora, in the course of several conversations with him, Aetius revised his opinion, conceding that the man, despite his boastful manner, was in all likelihood extremely competent in his field, and also genuinely devoted to Attila’s interests. Such an ally would be invaluable in helping Attila realize his vision.

Aetius thought the plan stood virtually no chance of succeeding, even with a leader of Attila’s stature. The Huns, despite rapid social change in the recent past — they now had a hereditary monarchy, an aristocracy of sorts, an economy beginning to be based if not on money, at least on bullion — were too primitive, too freedom-loving and nomadic, to be constrained by laws, taxes, cities, roads, et cetera. But Aetius could not bring himself to disillusion his friend. So, despite his reservations, he had promised to send Attila a team of jurists and administrators to help him start implementing the great design.

Although sceptical about its chances, Aetius had been touched and profoundly moved by Attila’s vision. That an unlettered barbarian could conceive such a noble project put him, Aetius, to shame, and made him reflect on his own narrow ambitions. Compared to Attila’s, they suddenly seemed sordid and petty. Was he really content to be merely a successful warlord, with Gaul as his fief, pulling up the drawbridge while all around him the Western Empire crumbled? After all, did he not owe the Empire an act of reparation? It was his selfish rivalry with Boniface, he at last admitted, that had resulted in the loss of Africa — a potentially fatal blow to the West. With Gaul stabilized by means of Hunnish help, and, he hoped, the federates in time integrated as Roman citizens — a status the Visigoths were already aspiring towards, surely it was not impossible that the lost territories of Britain, Africa, and Galicia in Spain, could be recovered. Their resources and revenue from taxes, could then pump fresh blood into the arteries of Empire.

Why, only six years ago,⁴ Germanus, a former officer of his father’s who had turned churchman and become Bishop of Autissiodorum, had shown what could be achieved in Britain, long abandoned by the legions. Sent by Pope Celestine to combat the Pelagian heresy, Germanus had stayed on to organize resistance among the eastern Britons, against a Saxon-Pict alliance. Inspired by the warlike bishop, the British host had raised a mighty cry of ‘Alleluia!’ and had so demoralized the enemy that they turned and fled without a blow.

The West could be made whole again, and Rome perhaps begin a new revival, as in the days of Diocletian and Constantine. It was a task, Aetius knew, which called not only for military reconquest but for a rekindling of patriotic spirit. That would necessitate the rooting out of official corruption, and a fairer distribution of the tax burden. An enormous challenge, certainly — but, given dedicated leadership, surely not an impossible one. The voices of conscience that had so often troubled him in the past suddenly returned — this time with a message not of condemnation but of hope. ‘In hoc signo vince,’ they seemed to say, echoing the words of Constantine, when he saw his vision of the Cross: ‘In this sign shalt thou conquer.’ But what sign?

Then it came to him. Attila’s unselfish ambition to build a ‘Greater Scythia’ — that was the examplar he had been vouchsafed. Like Paul on the road to Damascus, Aetius felt that he had been shown a new and worthier path to follow. He arrived back in Gaul filled with optimism and renewed energy. The iron had begun to leave his soul.

¹ Brittany.

² The Baltic.

³ Scandinavia.

⁴ In 429; Autissiodorum is now Auxerre.