We rode round on our tour of inspection and it was obvious at once that, massive as these fortifications were, the city was too large to defend without a larger force than I could afford to leave behind. I had no intention of being trapped within its walls. On the east side was the amphitheatre, sited between the walls, and capable of holding twenty thousand people at a popular show. It was regularly cursed by the christian priests as a place of abomination but, in this respect, so I was told, their views had little effect upon the passions of the populace. In addition to the amphitheatre entrance there was yet a fifth gate to the south-east, of the same size as the others and equally impressive in appearance.
On our return to Romulus we rode through the district where the majority of the temples had once stood; temples to Jupiter, to Victory, to Epona, to Diana and to other gods, many of them local deities of whom I had never heard. Some had been pulled down and christian churches erected in their place. Others had been abandoned and were slowly being stripped of their stone for the building of dwelling houses, while the bishop and the priests looked on and approved. Quintus and I looked at each other but said nothing. What was there to say? The great statue of Victory in Rome itself, which had been for six hundred years the very spirit of my people, had now been cast out and it was forbidden by imperial edict to worship in the old way, each man according to his own desires, each man following his own path to the heart of his existence. But I—I was too old to change. I, who had prayed to her god that she might live. I was a part of the old Rome, and I should be dead myself if I proved a bad general. Meanwhile the new Rome still had a use for me.
I had made a map in sand upon the floor and the officers of my legion, my tribunes and my centurions, stood round it in a half circle while I pointed with a long stick and told them what must be done.
“It is a triangle,” I said. “At the apex is this city which will be our supply base and my official headquarters, though I shall use it very little. The garrison will consist of two cohorts and a cavalry squadron. You, Flavius, will be in command and the auxiliaries, too, will take their orders from you. You will provide guards for all gates and flank towers, as well as the dockyards and public buildings. Gallus, I want you to take over the dockyard. You will be in charge of our fleet. I will discuss the details with you later. I intend to establish a river patrol which can check infiltration by boats or rafts and which can land patrols on the east bank of the Rhenus if need be.”
“How many ships, sir?” asked Gallus.
“Six. One for each fort.”
I went on to explain what I wanted and I was conscious, all the while that they listened intently, that they were waiting for something to happen. I looked at Quintus and I knew that he knew, too. I might guess at it but Quintus was in the secret.
At the end when they had asked their questions and I had answered them, the Chief Centurion stepped forward.
“May I speak, sir?”
“Yes, Aquila. You intend to anyway.”
“The men have not been paid—”
“I explained all that. Within two months at most they will have all their arrears.”
“It has been a long march from Italia, sir, and now they are to go straight into camp fortification work without leave.”
“They had six months, drinking themselves silly outside Ravenna and Ticinium.”
“They thought they were going home, sir.”
“Have they homes?” I asked. “They left wives and families in Britannia and they left wives and families in Italia. Which particular home do they want to go to now?”
He said, “Sir, you are their general. Gaul has no troops. It is a rich country. The men—we—we want you to take this province and—” He hesitated and glanced at Quintus.
Quintus said, quickly, “Well?”
The Chief Centurion looked at me and raised his arm in the beginning of the salute that is only made to an emperor.
I threw my stick onto the floor. “No,” I said. “I will not. I am too old. I have an emperor in Ravenna, and thirty years ago I took an oath to be faithful unto death to the Senate and the People of Rome. Proclaim an emperor now and you will have war with Honorius. How will you defend your province then with a single legion, while you have the legions of Stilicho to fight on the one hand and the barbarians across the river on the other? You will be buried by both and will never see the gold you hope I shall bring you.”
A young tribune, Marius, said angrily, “We could kill you and elect another.” His eyes flickered towards Quintus who stood as still as stone.
With a great rasping sound I drew the sword of Agricola and held it out so that the sun, through the windows behind my back, glinted on the polished steel.
“You can try,” I said.
There was a long silence. I threw the sword to the Chief Centurion, who caught it awkwardly.
“Kill me,” I said. “I am old enough.”
They looked at each other.
I said, “But for me you would have been starving still, most of you, in your miserable villages and your foodless towns. I made soldiers of you and turned you into a legion. I did not bring you here to indulge in a crazy mutiny. Is that what you want? To die, butchered on another legion’s swords. It would be easier to invite the Alemanni over the Rhenus and let them do it for you. What happened to the soldiers of Maximus? Shall I tell you? They died, too, for having just such an idea as you have now. But keep me as your general and you may be sure I shall not let one man die without necessity. I led you for five years in Italia and we were never beaten. All I ask is that you trust me. Hold this frontier till it is safe and we are sent reinforcements and I will see that you have all the gold you want. It will be gold with honour. I promise you.”
They murmured their assent. They saluted me and then they left. I was their general still.
I wiped the sweat from my face then and turned to Quintus, who stood there motionless, watching me with eyes that were full of pain. Slowly the pain vanished and he smiled, though with an effort.
“And what did you want?” I asked.
He said, “I wanted what they wanted. You are a fool, Maximus. Stilicho would have let you hold the province for him. He knows you. He would trust you with his life.”
I said, “He has. That is why I refused.”
The next day the legion marched to the city and paraded inside the Circus Maximus, watched by a huge crowd who were duly impressed by the soldiers’ smartness and efficiency. This was what I intended. The city would know now that my men were not a rabble but a body in whom they might have confidence. They needed my aid, though they might not realise it; but I also needed theirs. After the parade the legion withdrew to a new camp just outside the walls and a selected number of troops only were allowed to go into the city, though strictly on military business.
But the real work of the day was still to come. That evening I held a meeting with the city council in their chamber at the Basilica. They were not accustomed to working after sunset and the light of the oil lamps shone on their startled faces. The Curator gave what for him was a warm smile and said that he hoped I would continue the tradition of making Treverorum my personal headquarters. A good relationship had always existed between the officials of Belgica and Germania, and he hoped that it would continue. He paused then, smiled again, and said smoothly, “The Dux Belgicae pays us frequent visits, so you will not be lacking in military company, should you get tired of ours.” There was a murmur of laughter at this, but I noticed that the faces round the table were watching me anxiously.
A magistrate with a bald head said, “We can offer you, I think, amenities quite as fine as you have enjoyed in the south. There is good sport here, if you wish it, as well as good wine.”