Iudex Athanaric’s feasting hall echoed with jagged laughter and a wasp-like melody buzzed from a pair of pipers. The cavernous interior was bathed in a warm orange from the guttering torches and the roaring log fire in the centre while the shutters rattled from the snowstorm outside as if in protest. All around the hall, a hundred or so of the iudex’s finest warriors and an equal number of buxom and fiery Gothic women were packed around the long timber tables. They drained keg after keg of barley beer and fruit wine, growing more rosy-cheeked and boisterous with each one.
At the top table, Gallus sat beside Salvian, Tarquitius, Felix and Paulus. Opposite sat Iudex Athanaric, Fritigern’s rival and probably the most belligerent whoreson the empire had known in years. The iudex and the two brutish warriors flanking him cast flinty glares back at the Roman party.
Probably in his mid thirties, a similar age to Gallus, the Gothic Iudex was tall and lean, wearing a silver band to hold back his shoulder length, straight, jet-black hair. His eyes were constantly narrowed and his broad, battered nose spoke of his love of conflict.
Between them, the table was piled with food that could have graced Emperor Valens’ table; roast teal and guillemot, herring, cheeses, curdled milk, wheat bread, pears, cherries & jugs of fruit wine; only Tarquitius had indulged though, the others merely picking at the fare.
As the talks continued well into the night, Gallus felt weariness creep over his mind. He saw the same look in the eyes of his legionaries, especially Paulus, whose eyelids were drooping. Even the drunken Goths eventually succumbed to weariness, gradually filtering from the hall until only the eight around the top table remained. But Tarquitius was in full flow, proposing concessions on either side; preferential tax rates for Gothic traders crossing into the empire and an exchange of surplus grain and textiles. Salvian had remained silent at first, but as the talks went on he interjected more and more, deftly steering Tarquitius in his negotiations. Gallus was surprised at how well the talks were going, seemingly concluding with the notion of a yearlong pact of peace. His thoughts started to drift, his eyes dry and heavy.
Suddenly, the chatter ceased when a choking snore from Paulus echoed over them. The optio looked up at Felix and then Gallus, his eyes red-rimmed, his face wrinkled in sleepy confusion and his dark beard tousled and unkempt. ‘Eh . . . I, oh, sorry,’ he muttered, reddening. Gallus shot him an icy stare, while despatching a prayer of thanks to Mithras that it had not been him who had nodded off.
‘Perhaps nature is telling us we have talked enough. Are we finished?’ Salvian asked, looking to Tarquitius and Athanaric.
‘Aye,’ Athanaric spoke in a gruff tone, ‘for now.’
Tarquitius scowled at Salvian. ‘I think we are finished too. Therefore I propose that we adjourn for the night, then gather tomorrow to read over the summary of our proposed treaty.’
All nodded. Then a violent winter gust rattled the shutters around the hall.
‘It promises to be the coldest winter in memory,’ Athanaric said, calmly.
Gallus returned the Gothic Iudex’s gaze. ‘What I have seen of it already it has chilled me enough.’ Under the table, he clenched his fingers around the dark-green banner.
Athanaric sat back in his chair, a grin splitting his face, and clasped his hands. ‘What is wrong, Tribunus? Your tone is disrespectful given the generous concessions I have made to your empire,’ his eyes glinted, ‘especially at a time when it is so weak.’
‘Weak? You are so certain of that?’ Gallus replied. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Tarquitius squirm in his seat. He turned to the senator, eyes narrowing.
But Athanaric cut in; ‘It is common knowledge that your field legions are in the east, Tribunus, and it is not hard to work out that your border legions are stretched all over Fritigern’s lands in search of these rebels.’
‘And what do you know of these rebels?’ Gallus leant over the table, his jaw clenching.
Athanaric leant forward likewise, then grinned mockingly. ‘Nothing other than the reports that have come in. I must say though, it does sound like you are having difficulty in curtailing them. Are they too fast for you?’
Gallus felt the ire boil into his chest. He stood, snatching up the banner, undeterred as the guards flanking Athanaric leapt up and levelled their spears. ‘Look me in the eye, you dog, and tell me you know nothing of this!’ He pulled at one edge of the banner. It unravelled across the spoils of the feast; all eyes around the table fell upon the dark-green, blood-spattered piece, and the snake emblem coiled upon it.
Athanaric gazed at the sight for a moment. ‘Well, well. You seek the Viper?’ With that, he cast his head back and let out a roar of laughter that filled the feasting hall.
Gallus squared his shoulders.
‘Relax, Tribunus,’ Athanaric motioned for him to sit, shoulders still juddering with the last of his laughter.
Gallus noticed Salvian frowning, urging him to sit also. ‘The Viper?’ Gallus held out his arms as he sat. ‘If you truly seek peace, then you will tell me what you know, Iudex.’
‘I know only the tales that were told around the fires when I was a boy,’ he said. ‘They called him the ferocious iudex who was to unite the fractured tribes of Gutthiuda. The one who would forge a nation. The one who would slay Goth and Roman readily to achieve his goal; to march upon the empire.’
Gallus’ jaw stiffened at this, but Salvian placed a calming hand on his forearm.
Athanaric did not notice this, his gaze growing distant as he spoke, the firelight dancing in his eyes. ‘They would say that if we did not behave, then the Viper would come for us in the night, hooded and cloaked in dark green, his face hidden in shadow,’ Athanaric paused, raising his eyebrows, ‘then rip out our throats. And, by Wodin, did that threat work. I remember lying awake and silent every night, afraid to breathe, seeing him in every shadow, hearing him in every cracking twig, every gust of wind.’
A piece of kindling snapped in the fire, and all apart from Athanaric jolted.
The iudex’s face melted into a dark smile, his gaze rising from the fire to settle on Gallus. ‘Fear of the Viper’s unseen presence had us beaten from the beginning. There is much to be admired in such a creature, do you not think?’ The iudex left the question hanging in the air, then his face fell solemn and he continued; ‘But you can rest assured that he is no longer a threat, Tribunus. The Viper died many years ago. To seek him is to seek a shade; a lost ideal as ethereal as the morning mists that dapple my plains and mountains.’
Gallus nodded to the hide banner, cocking one eyebrow. ‘But this is the Viper’s symbol, is it not?’
‘It is.’
‘Then why do these rebels carry it today, Athanaric? Men do not fight for a shade!’
‘What men will do surprises me every day, Tribunus,’ Athanaric leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin. ‘You asked what I knew of this marking. I have told you all I know, yet your eyes still narrow with mistrust?’ He glared at Gallus.
Gallus glared back.
Salvian interjected. ‘Perhaps this discussion is for another time? It has been a long evening, after all.’
‘It has indeed,’ Athanaric agreed, a cool grin splitting his features. ‘Turn your mind from doubt, Tribunus; have I spoke of anything other than peace tonight?’
A tense silence ensued, then Gallus sighed, his head thumping and his eyes stinging with tiredness. ‘Aye, perhaps I spoke in haste.’
All around the table stood, and with curt nods of the head, the two parties separated, Athanaric and his guards striding to the back door of the feasting hall and the five of the Roman party heading for the front door.
Gallus led Salvian, Tarquitius, Felix and Paulus out into the dead of night and the roaring blizzard, each pulling their cloaks tight as the bitter cold swept over them. They trudged through the snowdrifts lying in the deserted streets of the citadel to reach the stallhouse. Once inside, they shook themselves down of the snow.
Gallus looked to Salvian and Tarquitius. ‘You had him in the palm of your hand. I can only apologise for my outburst at the end.’
‘No need, Tribunus,’ Tarquitius snapped back, ‘I expect little in the way of sophistication from a soldier.’
Gallus firmed his jaw and nodded, burying the reply he wanted to give. He saw Salvian deftly cocking one eyebrow to him, as if thinking the same thing.
‘Until tomorrow,’ Tarquitius added briskly, then the senator and the ambassador headed for the timber staircase leading up to their rooms.
‘Sir?’ Felix asked. ‘You’re not satisfied with Athanaric’s response, are you?’
‘Are you?’ Gallus replied.
‘Not one bit,’ Felix said, flatly.
Paulus frowned along with them as they looked through the door, slightly ajar, back across the centre of the citadel to the feasting hall.
You chase a shade, Tribunus.
‘We won’t catch any shades tonight,’ Gallus sighed after a moment of consideration, then nodded towards the staircase. ‘Come on, let’s sleep and hope the rest brings us some inspiration.’
Tarquitius stood in his room, by the door, pulling his cloak tighter. His eyes were drawn to his bed once more. Rest and warmth would have to wait though, he asserted, and once again he stealthily edged his door open and turned one ear to the corridor. There was now a chorus of snoring from one of the other rooms in the stallhouse attic; a grin split his face.
He stalked carefully over the timbers, putting his weight only on the joins. The snoring was coming from behind the closed door of Optio Paulus, he realised. Then he stalked on further, past Salvian’s shut door, then that of Felix. Then he froze; Gallus’ door was ajar. He peered around the doorframe, his breath stilled. Then he issued a muted sigh of relief upon seeing the tribunus muttering distantly in some nightmarish torment, his face bathed in sweat.
Your nightmares are about to become real, Tribunus, he mused.
Reassured that he went unseen, Senator Tarquitius crept down the stairs and opened the main door and walked out into the night. He muted a gasp as the biting wind of the blizzard shocked his skin. The snow was knee-deep as he plodded through the street then across the open centre of the citadel towards the feasting hall. He pulled the neck of his cloak up and over his head, both to protect his face from the cold and as a guise. A few houses still bore the orange glow of torchlight in their windows, and he looked around furtively, anxious to avoid prying eyes.
Be at ease, he chided himself, only the sharpest of minds are aware of what is to happen tonight. The men of the legions had treated him with barely disguised contempt since the rendezvous, but now he wielded the power; it was time to cash in his knowledge of the strengths and weaknesses of the border legions. The sham of a peace parley earlier had served its purpose. Now, a private audience with Athanaric awaited him.
He reached the feasting hall and edged its door open, slipping inside. Merciful warmth enveloped him as he let his cloak slip to his shoulders. The hall was in darkness apart from an orange pool of light at the far end, bathing the top table.
He made to step towards it when, suddenly, from the shadows, two flashes of silver stopped him in his tracks. He felt the cold iron of a pair of speartips jabbing at his chins. White-hot terror raced through his veins as his eyes adjusted to the gloom and he saw the two brutish Goths who held the weapons, their faces twisted in anticipation.
‘I . . . I’m here to speak with Iudex Athanaric,’ he stammered.
The pair looked at one another, then one sneered, his grip on his spear tightening.
‘Ah, Senator Tarquitius!’ a voice boomed. It was Iudex Athanaric, who had moved into the pool of torchlight by the top table.
Tarquitius’ skin crawled as his name echoed throughout the hall, sure the whole citadel would hear.
But Athanaric continued, striding down the hall. ‘There was a point tonight when I thought you had forgotten the true purpose of your visit here, Senator – I thought that sham of a parley would never end! Come, sit with me, let us discuss more pressing matters. Guards, leave us.’
Tarquitius scowled as the two guards lowered their spears and left to stand outside the hall, then he walked with Athanaric to the table.
‘You have had some six months to progress our plans, Senator,’ Athanaric spoke stonily, his jovial facade dissolving. ‘Tell me what you know, and make it concise.’
Tarquitius recoiled at this. The barbarian spoke to him as if he was a dog. ‘You stand to gain vast spoils from my knowledge, Iudex. Value my company as you would value those spoils.’
Athanaric stared, unblinking. ‘Tell me of the border legions.’
Tarquitius shuffled indignantly, then pursed his lips. The iudex was a stubborn whoreson; with too few men to mount a full-scale invasion, he relied on scraps like this, scraps that would open the door of the empire for him. Perhaps, he mused, it would be prudent to play to this dog’s delusions of power.
‘The imperial borders are weak, Iudex, weaker than they have ever been. I have spent your funds wisely,’ he grinned, lifting a trio of scrolls from his satchel, ‘and those I have bribed know only that they talked to a senator; your part in this remains undisclosed.’ He flattened the first of the scrolls to reveal a map of the River Danubius, then stabbed a finger at a large dot, south of the river and well west of Durostorum. ‘Here is where I propose you strike. The city of Sardica is virtually undefended; barely half a cohort lines its walls and the forts on the river north of it are manned only by a century at most.’ He looked up, thinking of how he had wrung that information from Pavo, then felt a sweat break out as he saw that Athanaric looked down on the map in distaste. Time to sell it, he realised. ‘But even better; that garrison is due to return to the XI Claudia fort before spring. Within the month, I should have knowledge of the exact dates of the garrison changeover.’ He leaned forward, towards Athanaric, his eyes glinting. ‘Inside the Roman borders, such movements are often lax. A window of opportunity could be created; time it right and your forces could puncture the Roman borders and take this city and the governor’s family who reside there with little resistance. The ransom for their heads will be handsome, and I can guarantee it will be met,’ his eyelids dipped a little, and he purred, ‘for a healthy commission, of course.’
He watched as Athanaric sat silently, no doubt mulling over the deal. It was just as he had planned for months now. A controlled invasion where he could be the saviour of that wretch of a governor, gaining esteem from both the iudex and from the empire. A lavish reward, a lofty promotion and a thick slice of the ransom would no doubt be in the offing.
Athanaric looked up and Tarquitius waited eagerly on his praise.
‘There will be no raid, no sacking of Sardica.’
Tarquitius cocked his head to one side, frowning. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Athanaric’s face split into a cool smile. ‘I said, there will be no raid. Those ambitions are trivial in comparison to what is to happen now. Much has transpired in these last months that you know little of, Senator.’
Tarquitius snorted. ‘What is this? The whole guise of a peace parley took months to organise, just so we could meet here, like this. And now you rebuff my carefully laid plans?’ The blood boiled in his veins. ‘You would do well to make the best of my services, Iudex, for plenty others would be happy to make use of them!’ He stabbed a finger into the table as his words rang around the room.
Then an icy realisation danced over his skin.
They were not alone.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the shadows ripple by the far end of the hall.
Then, like a shade, something drifted forward. Shadows and a dark-green haze.
The hairs on Tarquitius’ neck stood on end as he turned to the apparition. A figure, cloaked and hooded in dark green, came straight for him. He felt the beginnings of a squeal build in his lungs as it approached. Then the figure stopped abruptly, only paces from him.
The face was cast in shadows, only the line of a jaw illuminated by the guttering torchlight.
Tarquitius snatched a glance at Athanaric, who was smiling an awful smile. ‘What is the meaning of this? We were to talk alone!’
‘You are alone, Senator,’ the figure hissed. ‘I am but a shade.’
Tarquitius’ eyes bulged and he looked to Athanaric.
Athanaric nodded. ‘You should be honoured, Senator, for the Viper stands before you.’
Tarquitius’ lips flapped. ‘The Vi . . . ‘
‘And you should listen and listen well to what I have to say, Senator of Rome,’ the Viper spoke in a rasping, caustic tone. Then he reached out, lifting Tarquitius’ scrolls and tearing them in half. ‘Iudex Athanaric has told you what will be; no raid will take place. He has no intention of crossing the great river only to bolster your reputation then come scuttling back with a few coins. Your small-minded ambition will serve as a minor pillar in what is to come.’
Tarquitius’ throat tightened and sweat danced down his scalp and over his eyes, despite the cold.
‘Yes, the Roman borders will be breached,’ the Viper stabbed a finger into the table. ‘But it will be no mere raid. This will be an invasion . . . an invasion that will end your empire.’
Tarquitius’ eyes bulged, his heart thudding. He glanced to Athanaric. ‘But your armies are too few; one spear for every ten of Fritigern’s, you said. And Fritigern is in truce with the empire.’
‘And my own loyal riders number only a few hundred. This is true,’ the Viper agreed.
‘So, how . . . ’ Tarquitius started.
‘It is simple. Fritigern’s armies will be pressed into service,’ the Viper purred. ‘My riders have been disrupting his lands for some months now and drawing the Roman legions from their forts. But that has just been preparative for what is to come. As we speak, a storm readies to smash against Fritigern’s lands.’
Tarquitius frowned, looking to Athanaric. ‘A storm?’
‘The dark hordes of the north, Senator,’ Athanaric grinned like a shark, ‘remember them? Like a press, they will drive Fritigern’s armies onto Roman soil.’
Tarquitius felt his face blanching and a prickly dread rippled across his neck. His past dealings with the Huns had left a black stain on his soul. ‘You are making a mistake, a big mistake. They cannot be harnessed!’
‘Any man can be controlled, Senator,’ the Viper spat, ‘as you have so ably demonstrated with your actions and your presence here tonight. But now that you know what is to come, your mind may well turn to betraying me?’
Tarquitius shivered as he imagined a thousand more figures waiting in the shadows of the hall. ‘No, I . . . ’
‘What is to stop me from cutting your throat over this very table, right now?’ the Viper rasped, lifting a houndstooth dagger from his cloak, placing the point on the table and twisting it round with his thumb and forefinger.
Tarquitius’ gut churned and he felt his bladder weaken as the blade glinted in the torchlight. A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind, then one image remained.
Pavo.
‘I can still be of use to you,’ he nodded hurriedly. ‘I have a network of contacts in the legions now. One of them, a legionary, was going to get me the date of the Sardica changeover, but I could steer him elsewhere? I hold a piece of knowledge that he craves; he will do whatever I ask, I know it!’
The Viper’s jaw creased in a grin at this and he spun the dagger in silence for what felt like an eternity. ‘Then you should continue to deny the legionary this knowledge, Senator. Without this, it seems you would be truly worthless to me, and I would have little reason to keep you alive.’ The Viper leaned closer to him. ‘Now you will return to your empire knowing that, in a heartbeat, I could expose you as the traitor that you are. I will be watching you, I will see your every move, hear your every word.’
Tarquitius nodded, mouth agape. He had only just avoided disgrace and execution after the Bosporus debacle. Any more tawdry and shameful revelations would surely be the end of him.
‘But you must be ready for when I next call upon you to do my bidding. When you see my mark, you will obey.’
Tarquitius nodded hurriedly, then glanced to Athanaric and then back to the Viper.
The Viper leaned forward, a flicker of torchlight illuminating his jaw again for the briefest of moments, the light dancing on his awful grin. He placed his mouth to Tarquitius’ ear and rasped;
‘Run, Senator . . . ’
Tarquitius shot up from his seat, stumbled backwards, then turned and scrambled from the hall.
Athanaric watched the door swing shut, then eyed the hooded figure in whom he had placed so much stock.
The Viper – the demon who had haunted his childhood – now offered him the glory he had sought for so long; for the land to be cleansed of Fritigern and his followers so he could be the one true Iudex.
Now that the reality dangled before him, he felt agitated at the doubts that crept into his thoughts. ‘Do you think the senator has a point about the Hun hordes? You are sure they will ransack only Fritigern’s lands? And what if Fritigern fights, or seeks shelter in my mountains?’
The Viper was unmoved by this prospect. ‘Turn your thoughts from doubt, Iudex. The Huns and their subjects have already been herded to their goal like sheep. And, likewise, Fritigern will be steered, for my finest man is by his side.’
Athanaric could not contain his amusement at this. ‘Fritigern. My greatest rival. The one I thought so shrewd. He does not know that a demon has wormed its way into his trust?’
The Viper steepled his hands under his chin. ‘Do you not see the beauty in that, Iudex? And that is exactly why we lured the Romans here – for we now need an equal hand in their ranks.’
‘The Romans are shrewd,’ Athanaric countered, grudgingly. ‘As I understand it, trust is hard won in the legions.’
‘It is all in hand,’ the Viper nodded. ‘Trust is forged in the fires of adversity. Now, let me tell you how we will stoke that fire . . . ’