"Is the Commander wealthy?"
"Extremely. You have obviously never seen his villa in the west."
"No." I shook my head. "But I think he would like me to go there and live as one of his Bagaudae."
"Ah yes, his Colony. I believe he will establish it, you know. I sincerely hope he will."
"Why? Do you mind my asking?"
He smiled. "Why should I mind? Caius is a man who needs to be occupied. He has a mind that is capable of greatness. You know he foresees the death of the Empire in the near future?" I was stupefied. "What are you talking about?" I asked, my surprise audible in my voice.
"Just what I say. Caius believes that the Empire, as we know it, is doomed."
"Rome? Doomed? By what?"
"By its own excesses."
"That is nonsense! It's impossible. It's... it's an obscene thought!"
"Is it? Really? I wonder. Our own Lord foretold that He would return after a period of time for the final Judgment of mankind, and that when He did, the world would end. He died to redeem the souls of men. To give mankind an opportunity to grow in spirit, and to put away the things of this earth. It seems to me that the Empire is of this earth. There is little heavenly about it."
I sat blinking in confusion, my head reeling. "You must forgive me, " I said. "We have come too far, too quickly in this conversation. I am beyond my depth. We started out talking of the Commander and his enemies, and suddenly we are dealing with metaphysics and the end of the Empire. I am not qualified to talk of these things."
He grinned at me. "It is I who should ask forgiveness, Master Varrus. You asked only about the feud. My personal convictions led me astray. But let me summarize my own thoughts on Caius Britannicus and the Senecas in a way that will not take me far from what I have just been saying, and yet might make my thinking clear to you. I know you do not doubt the coexistence of Good and Evil, and no man could doubt the strength of the Empire, on the surface at least. In my mind, Master Varrus, Caius Britannicus, and men like him, represent all that is good in the Roman way. Honour, honesty, integrity, probity and the respect for law and order, both spiritual and temporal, are their watchwords. The other face of the coin is represented by the excesses, the venality, the corruption and the disregard for humanity and divinity that characterizes the worst, elements, and, unfortunately, the most powerful elements in the Empire today. White and black. Right and wrong. Day and night. Britannicus and Seneca. I will say no more, for now I must go. Thank you for your hospitality, and I will speak to you again on my return from Londinium within the month."
My thoughts that night were drawn in two different ways: one, to the sheet of papyrus Alaric had left lying on my table, and the other, to the frightening and apparently impossible scenario to which he had referred, and to which, it seemed, Commander Britannicus subscribed. The end of Rome. The end of the Empire. My grandfather's parchments were put away and. for the time being, forgotten.
My mind could not encompass the appalling implications of this new thought. No man can visualize the end of the world in personal terms, and Rome was the world. The barbarian states outside the Empire's frontiers were Ultima Thule — so far away as to be beyond imagining, I tried to ignore the terrifying thought of it, without much success, and without making any progress towards gaining a rational perspective on how our lives here in Britain would be affected by the end of Rome. I finally duped myself into accepting the impossibility of the premise and into accepting the thesis that this was simply an eccentricity of Caius Britannicus. Every man, I reasoned, is entitled to one personal folly.
After a week, I found myself buying silver ore and familiarizing myself with the properties of the metal.
After Alaric's return — within the month, as he had promised — I found myself spending endless hours in the study of proportion and of Celtic art. After that time, I was never free of a compulsion to fashion silver crosses of all shapes and sizes.
About a month after Alaric's return from Londinium, on an evening when I was working on the design of the first pectoral cross I was to make for him, my servant came to tell me that there was a soldier at my door wishing to talk with me, and I bade him bring the man in. I saw immediately from his trappings that my visitor was an aide to the Military Commander, Antonius Cicero. He drew himself to attention as he entered my room.
"Centurion Publius Varrus?" I nodded acquiescence. His salute was crisp and perfect. "The Legate Cicero sends his compliments, sir. This scroll was delivered to him today by military courier with a request that he forward it to you."
I thanked him and took the scroll he proffered, immediately conscious of the weight of it. As the soldier left, I noticed that it was already dusk. I lit several lamps against the gathering darkness and then decided to forage in the kitchen while there was still enough light to see by. I loaded a platter with bread, cold meat and some pickled onions, poured myself a flagon of Equus's brew and went back to examine the weighty scroll. It was sealed with the signet of Britannicus. Surprised, for I had never had any such communication from him before, I prised the seal open gently with my thumb-nail, being careful not to break the wax, and unrolled the missive. I was even more surprised then to discover that the thick parchment was only the wrapper for four sheets of fine papyrus covered with Britannicus's neat, characteristic script. Forgetting food and drink for the moment, I pulled a lamp closer to me and began to read.
Caius Britannicus
to: Publius Varrus
Greetings
—
This for your reading only:
I have been remembering the story of the sword your grandfather fashioned for your father, who died abroad without ever seeing it. I hope the fact that you are now making one for me is not ominous. It always surprises me to learn again that the affairs of Empire proceed irrespective of our petty affairs here in Britain, and that the Powers who command the destinies of men and peoples remain aware of the minor functionaries in the provinces. I am commanded by the Senate and the People of Rome to proceed immediately to Rome, and thence to Constantinople, where I will be granted the Consulship of Numidia by the Emperor Valentinian himself, and be provided with the means and the authority to execute all of the appropriate consular functions within the Province of Numidia in the proper style and fashion. The appointment, which is generally regarded as the supreme military achievement, is of course a great honour, and I suspect that Theodosius had a deal to do with the bestowal of it. Had it occurred even five years ago, I would have been delighted. Now, however, I perceive it as something of a mixed benison, a blend of inconvenient duty and dutiful inconvenience. You, however, and my wife are the only two souls to whom I could ever confide such a viewpoint.
Five more years under the sun of Africa! The prospect does not appeal to me. Five more years of dealing with the fractious and contentious nomads native to the land appeals to me even less, particularly since mine will be the head on which will fall the odium and opprobrium if all does not go well under my care during my term of office. When have things ever gone well in Africa for five consecutive years? Only Scipio ever emerged from there with true glory, and the Consular Army that won him his title "Africanus" was made up of four
real
legions! My soldiers will be conscripts and mercenaries.