Theodoric

SIXTEEN

‘You expect to get to Italy in that?’ screamed the merchant, administering a savage kick to the side of the wagon. His single eye glittering with simulated rage, the diminutive Greek advanced towards the vehicle’s owner, a huge, tow-headed Goth, who backed away in alarm. ‘Well, I, Callisthenes of Olbia, whose wagons have forded the Borysthenes and traversed the Altai Shan,* say that you’ll be lucky if this apology for a donkey cart gets as far as the Alps, which it stands as much chance of crossing as an icicle in Hades. Those spokes — they’re oak, hard but dense — like your head, my friend. They should be of ash, tough yet springy, yielding instead of cracking when the going’s rocky.’

Enjoying the performance from the sidelines were Theoderic and Timothy. ‘The man’s a treasure,’ chuckled the king. ‘Remind me how you found him.’

‘He’s from Olbia, an old Greek colony and trading-centre on the opposite side of the Euxine from Anatolia — my home turf, you’ll remember. Everyone in Anatolia — a Greek sphere of influence since long before Alexander — knows of Callisthenes the famous trader. He claims in his youth to have guided Attila to the shores of Dalai Nor,† to confer with the seer Wu Tze.’

On meeting the tiny Greek, who was one-eyed, aged and voluble — especially concerning his own alleged exploits — Theoderic had not at first been impressed, being inclined to dismiss him as a bombastic blowhard. However, within an hour of Callisthenes’ arrival at Novae, the king changed his mind. Without waiting for explanations or introductions, the little merchant had begun buzzing round the camp like an angry gadfly, examining wagons and draught oxen, poking into stores, quizzing Goths in their own tongue. . After completing an exhaustive inspection of the site, he had delivered his verdict.

‘Half your transport isn’t fit for purpose, King,’ he snapped (eschewing the usual respectful ‘Sire’). ‘Many of your oxen are in poor condition or require their hooves treated; gear’s often defective or lacking; a lot of grain and foodstuffs badly stored — which means it’ll spoil. I could go on. All in all your expedition’s anything but ready.’

‘But half our lives, we Goths have been on the move.’ Theoderic protested mildly. ‘So far we’ve managed to cope, without-’

‘Oh, yes — inside the Eastern Empire!’ cut in the little Greek, with a dismissive snort. ‘Good roads, tamed countryside. What happens when you reach what used to be the empire’s Western half? Roads in disrepair, tillage and pasture reverting to wasteland, above all the crossing of the eastern Alps to face. A journey of a thousand miles, part of it over some of the hardest terrain in the whole of Europe. I tell you this, King: if your transport and provisioning are defective, you may not make it.’

‘What must I do?’

‘Nothing. Put me in charge, and be willing to see that my instructions are carried out — to the letter, mind.’

‘To the letter.’ With difficulty, Theoderic suppressed a smile.

Like a miniature tornado, Callisthenes swept through the encampments in Moesia Secunda and Dacia Ripensis, the two provinces assigned to the Ostrogoths: observing, questioning, assessing, taking notes. His lightning tour completed, he returned to Novae, armed with a lengthy list of Things to Be Done. First, transport. To be ‘fit for purpose’ (the merchant’s favourite expression), each wagon must be eighteen feet long by four wide, the body constructed of hard-wearing timber such as oak or hornbeam. The wheels (two pairs, bound with iron tyres fitted when white-hot so as to shrink and grip securely, the front ones with pivoted axle for steering) must be of tough, flexible wood such as ash or some species of walnut; connected to the front axle, the drag pole must be sturdy and long enough to inspan twelve draught oxen by a system of yokes, yoke-pins, and rawhide ropes. Attached to the body by iron staples, there would be green-wood boughs to support a canvas tent against hot sun or foul weather. At the front there should be a large chest stretching the width of the wagon, providing seating for the driver and storage space for personal belongings, also iron hooks inside and underneath the body to support pots and pans, tools and other heavy gear. Stores must include sacks of flour and grain (plus hand querns for milling) and bags of dried meat — sufficient to feed each family as far as the edge of the Empire; also drums of fat to grease the wheels hubs, spare ropes, yokes, yoke and linch-pins; rolls of canvas and rawhide for repairs; bars of iron; tools such as augers, spokeshaves, chisels, tongs, hammers, drawing-knives to trim hooves; spare horseshoes (for those wealthy enough to own a mount), and a hundred other items. All livestock (especially draught animals) to be rigorously examined and if necessary treated, to ensure they were strong and healthy enough to cope with the rigours of the long trek.

Regarding implementation of these specifications, Callisthenes was utterly inflexible. ‘“Intolerance” is my middle name,’ he told the king. ‘To get your people to their destination safely and securely, you can’t afford any weak links in the chain. One single broken wheel or axle could bring the expedition grinding to a halt.’ Fortunately, a seemingly inexhaustible stream of funds from the Treasury in Constantinople ensured that even the poorest Gothic household could afford to meet Callisthenes’ stringent requirements. (This heightened Theoderic’s suspicion that Zeno was only too willing to part with however much gold it took, to be rid of ‘guests’ whose presence had become unwelcome.)

Regarding weaponry, Callisthenes had nothing to say, declaring that he was a trader, not an arms dealer. Theoderic had few worries on that score. As a warrior nation, the Ostrogoths were probably equipped as well as or better than any other tribes they might encounter. The great mass of the host, some forty thousand warriors, was armed with spears; a few — leaders or the wealthy — might also possess helmets, swords, and ring-mail hauberks.

With the last of the harvest in, and all items on Callisthenes’ list of Things to Be Done ticked off, the great migration finally began on the last day of September in the year of the consuls Dynamius and Sifidius.* Headed by Theoderic’s party, then Frederick and his Rugians, the wagon train set off in sections of a hundred vehicles, there being two hundred sections altogether. In charge of each section was a wagonmaster, hand-picked by Theoderic and Timothy for reliability and leadership. Conspicuous for not being chosen to fulfil such a role was Thiudimund. (Theoderic’s suspicions of treachery on his brother’s part had been aroused too many times for the king to risk entrusting him with such a key responsibility.) Predictably, Thiudimund had protested, then, his brother remaining adamant, had raged and sulked, but in the end been forced reluctantly to accept the king’s decision.

Like a long, long snake, the column of wagons wound slowly south, covering ten to fifteen miles per day. This first part of the journey was over familiar terrain: through the Shipka Pass to the Maritsa Valley, where the train picked up the great Roman highway leading them west to Philippopolis; then north-west through the Succi Pass, scene of Theoderic’s ambush by Strabo; and after a further three hundred miles to Singidunum, where, all those years ago, he had defeated Babai. Knowing that in all likelihood he was viewing these scenes for the last time, Theoderic felt a keen nostalgia as the train rolled steadily north-westwards through the diocese of Dacia. Ablaze with the reds and golds of autumn, a succession of achingly beautiful landscapes moved slowly past: forests, majestic mountains, lakes and waterfalls. Beyond Singidunum the scenery changed abruptly, rolling hills clad in woods of oak and chestnut giving place to tillage and meadow, as the Roman road led them down into the broad valley of the Danubius.

Some fifty miles beyond Sirmium, as the wagon train, with supplies now running out, approached the River Ulca (where the empire ended), outriders, who had been scouting ahead, came galloping back.

‘We can go no further, Sire,’ gasped the leading scout. ‘The way is blocked. Gepids, Sire — they’ve barricaded the far bank of the Ulca.’

* A range of mountains in central Mongolia, to the north of China’s Great Wall.

† The ‘Holy Sea’ of the Mongols, Lake Baikal.

* 488.