Attila:The Scourge of God

FORTY-SIX

Even in March of that fateful year, the consulships of Marcian Augustus and Adelphius, and the one thousand, two hundred and fifth from the founding of Rome,² ice-floes still dotted the Rhenus at its junction with the Nicer.³ On a hill-top overlooking the confluence, Bauto, an Alamann shepherd, drew his cloak more closely around him and scanned his flock with anxious eyes. After such a bitter winter, he would have to be especially vigilant with newborn lambs these next few weeks: the foxes’ hunger would make them bold. Just then his keen eyes picked up something strange, what appeared to be a bank of mist obscuring the foothills of the Wotanwald, whose peaks defined the eastern horizon. Odd, he thought. The day was cold and cloudless; even distant objects stood out sharply. Not a day for mist, that was sure. What was that sound, like a far-off murmuring? Must be the wind. But the murmur grew in volume to a steady reverberation like a roll of drums or rumble of thunder. It seemed to be coming from the mist, which was rapidly getting nearer. In fact it was not mist at all, he realized, but a line of billowing dust-clouds among which sparked and glinted a myriad points of light. It was an army. But an army such as no man had seen before, for surely it could not be numbered in mere thousands, but only in scores, perhaps hundreds of thousands. Bauto watched in awed fascination as the vast host poured through the mountain-passes and rolled in a spreading tide towards the Rhenus. Forgetting his sheep, he turned and began to run downhill with loping strides, to warn the villagers of Mannheim.

‘Attila has no quarrel with the Romans, only with the Visigoths,’ declared Valentinian to Aetius. They were in the reception chamber of the palace of Ravenna’s imperial apartments. The Emperor waved a roll of parchment. ‘He guarantees it in this letter, which expressly states that he wishes to be my friend. My friend,’ he went on in spiteful triumph. ‘He makes no mention of you, Patrician.’

‘This is folly, sir,’ rejoined Aetius wearily; he was unable to bring himself to address Valentinian, whom he despised, as ‘Your Serenity’. ‘Are you so blind that you can’t see what his game is? Divide and rule, or in his case conquer. He’s trying to set the Visigoths against the Romans and vice versa, also you against myself. In your case, he’s obviously succeeding. I imagine Theoderic in Tolosa has also received a letter such as you have there, assuring him that Attila’s only quarrel is with the Romans.’ He pressed on bluntly, ‘I notice you’ve omitted what the letter goes on to say: that Attila insists on his marriage to Honoria taking place, together with a dowry of half the Western Empire — terms which the government has naturally refused. Also that he replace myself as Master of Soldiers in Gaul.’

Valentinian stared at Aetius in astonished fury. ‘How do you know this?’ he shouted. ‘The letter is privy to myself.’

‘I have my sources; the Consistory does not consist entirely of servile fools,’ retorted Aetius. ‘There are some whose priority is to serve Rome, rather than seek advancement by flattering yourself.’

‘Who are these traitors?’ shrieked the Emperor, trembling with rage. ‘I demand their names. I will have them banished — no, executed.’

‘You don’t really expect me to tell you?’ responded Aetius with amused contempt. ‘Some of us have principles, even if you do not.’ Since Placidia’s death less than four months previously, Valentinian’s obsessive fears had increased alarmingly. Whatever her faults and limitations — and they were many — the Empress Mother had been a restraining influence on her son’s worst tendencies. With Placidia gone, the character of the young Emperor had degenerated markedly. Free to indulge his baser urges, he had begun to resemble, in his acts of wanton cruelty and unhealthy obsession with sorcery, two of his most infamous predecessors, Caligula and Heliogabalus. More serious, in Aetius’ view, was the rise of a pro-Valentinian faction among the courtiers and councillors of Ravenna. With the Western Empire facing its greatest ever crisis, the need for the Roman government to show a united front against Attila could hardly have been greater.

‘But all this is wasting time, sir,’ went on the general impatiently. ‘Even as we speak, the Belgic provinces are being overrun. Aluatica and Metis have fallen and their populations have been massacred. Attila, with a vast horde of Huns reinforced by subject Germans — Rugians, Heruls, Thuringians, and especially the Ostrogoths and Gepids — the whole host estimated to number anything up to half a million, has crossed the Sequana and laid siege to Aureliani.⁴ He has had to delay his advance by waiting until spring, for grass to provide fodder for his horses, granting us a vital respite. But we cannot afford to wait any longer. Unless we intercept him now, Attila will take the whole of Gaul.’

‘You have a plan, I suppose,’ sneered Valentinian.

‘On its own, the Roman army in Gaul is simply not strong enough to stop Attila,’ pointed out the general. ‘I have to persuade Theoderic to join us with his Visigoths. Together, we would have a chance.’

‘I told you, Attila’s intention is to destroy the Visigoths,’ snapped the Emperor, ‘the tribe that represents the biggest threat to Rome. ‘To seek to prevent him from achieving that is sheer perversity.’

‘You haven’t taken in a thing I’ve said,’ said Aetius in frustration. ‘Well, with or without your co-operation, I intend to march for Gaul. I’ll take what forces are readily available. That includes your palatine troops, sir.’

‘Permission refused, General,’ said the Emperor, smiling maliciously. ‘Try to insist, and I will personally order them to disobey you.’

Aetius decided to let it go. It would be unfair to the scholae, the Emperor’s personal bodyguard, to subject them to a test of loyalty. He would make do with whatever units of the Army of Italy, which consisted almost entirely of auxiliary regiments, he could get together at short notice. Bowing ironically in farewell, he murmured, ‘Mit der Dummheit, kampfen die Gotter selbst vergeblich.’

‘I heard that,’ said Valentinian sharply. ‘You will tell me what it means.’

Aetius shrugged. ‘If you insist, sir,’ he replied, his expression blandly innocent. ‘It’s a saying attributed to Alaric, the illustrious father of our mutual friend Theoderic, when the Roman Senate foolishly rejected his generous peace terms after he’d invested Rome. That refusal resulted in Alaric losing patience, and his Goths taking and sacking the City. Its meaning is: “Against stupidity, even the Gods struggle in vain.”’ And, instead of backing out of the royal presence as protocol demanded, Aetius turned on his heel and strode from the chamber, his mood marginally improved.

‘Well, that’s that,’ said Aetius in calm resignation, as the door closed behind Theoderic’s ambassador. He and Titus were once more the sole occupants of the general’s office in his headquarters in the archbishop’s palace at Lugdunum. ‘We did our best, but it wasn’t enough. With Theoderic committed to defending only the Visigoth homeland in Aquitania, and refusing to join us in a combined operation against Attila, the outcome’s not hard to predict.’

‘You mean, we’re going to be defeated, sir?’

‘Almost certainly. Without the Visigoths, we haven’t a chance. Attila will engage us separately and crush each of us in turn.’

‘And what will happen then?’ Titus felt the first stirrings of dread, as the sombre reality of the position began to dawn on him.

Aetius shrugged, his expression bleak. ‘Put starkly, it’ll be the end of Western civilization. The Huns will destroy everything in their path, and massacre those they can’t sell as slaves. Then, when there is no more plunder to be had, they will withdraw, leaving total devastation in their wake. Attila himself may cherish higher goals, but even he can’t prevail against the will of his nation. I know these people, Titus. They can never adapt to civilization. They’ll loot what they can from it — gold and slaves — then destroy the rest.’

‘Won’t the East help us?’

‘Hardly. We failed them in their hour of need, remember? Attila would never have crossed the Rhenus if he’d felt there was any risk of the East attacking his rear.’ Aetius looked at his senior courier earnestly. ‘If you haven’t already done so, I’d advise you to prepare your will,’ he said gently, a hint of affectionate concern in his voice. ‘I had hoped that Attila would hold back from invading the West,’ he mused. ‘After all, you did say the signs were hopeful when you returned from seeing him. What made him change his mind, I wonder?’

‘Well, for all his power he’s hardly a free agent, sir,’ replied Titus thoughtfully. ‘I learnt quite a lot about the factors influencing his policy, during the visit. Especially from Maximin and Priscus, the ambassadors from the Eastern Empire, which had been at the receiving end of Hun aggression for eight years. I really think he wanted to accept your offer of what amounted to. . well, virtual partnership in running the Western Empire. He was certainly affected by your gift. Just for a moment he let his guard slip; I could tell he was moved, also how much your friendship had meant to him. But the pressures on him to invade the West were enormous. King Gaiseric, the Bagaudae of Aremorica, the anti-Merovech faction among the Franks — they were all pushing him in that direction. Add to that the new tough stance that the East, with its huge resources and now committed leadership, is taking against the Huns, who were badly mauled at the Battle of the Utus. And finally, the business of Honoria’s letter, which provided him with a perfect pretext. .’ Titus smiled ruefully, letting the unfinished sentence hang in the air. ‘Perhaps he hasn’t any option.’

‘Neatly put, Titus Valerius,’ conceded the general. ‘That probably sums up his position.’ He sighed in frustration. ‘If only Theoderic could have seen the bigger picture.’

‘He did once, didn’t he?’ recalled Titus. ‘You remember sir, after the shambles of Tolosa, when the Visigoths were thirsting to avenge themselves on us. Who was it persuaded them to make peace with you, rather than engage in a bloody battle in which both sides would have been the losers? It was Avitus, wasn’t it?’

‘You’re right, it was,’ said Aetius slowly, a thoughtful expression forming on his face. ‘That might be the answer. Well done, Titus — I should have thought of it myself. If anyone can talk Theoderic round, it has to be Avitus. Let’s see, he’s finished his term as Praetorian prefect of Gaul, so presumably he’s now back on his estate in Arvernum. How far’s that? A hundred miles? The great military road from Lugdunum to Divona⁵ virtually passes his villa. The imperial Post’s still functioning — just. With relays of fast horses you can be there tomorrow.’ He clapped his agent on the shoulder, and grinned. ‘Well, don’t just stand there. On your way, my friend.’

¹ Tongres, Metz.

² 451.

³ The Neckar.

⁴ Orleans.

⁵ Cahors.