Burning Shadows (27 page)

“You heard the accounts that the men from Tsapousso gave, didn’t you? They didn’t believe that the Huns would bother with them. Tsapousso was smaller than this monastery, and as isolated, yet the Huns came. Why would they spare Sanctu-Eustachios the Hermit?” Mangueinic asked.

“All the more reason to leave as soon as possible—the monks as well as the rest of us,” said Bacoem. “If we go, we will have a chance to be safe. If you’re right, we will never be so here.”

“If I’m right, you won’t be safe in Pola,” said Mangueinic.

“How do you know that? Have you been in contact with the Huns?” Urridien demanded, flicking his hands fastidiously.

“No more than you have,” Mangueinic countered, his face darkening as his temper rose.

“Watchmen, please,” said Bernardius. “We need not turn to anger.”

Mangueinic glowered at the far wall, taking care not to engage anyone’s eyes; he struggled to keep his voice even and his tone amiable. “If we had reliable, recent information, we might be able to find a solution that would put as few of us as possible at risk. Since we have no such information, I think it might be wisest to wait before taking any action.”

Hovas took a step forward. “We are leaving and there is nothing you can do to keep us here.”

“Possibly not,” Bernardius interjected, attempting to reduce the tension that was building between Mangueinic and the men from Apulum Inferior. “But since there is no reason to think that anyone can get through the pass from either direction, there is still time to discuss the matter and work out a plan that will expose you to the least risk. Fas est cogit.”

“There you are wrong,” said Thirhald with a harsh smugness. “We do have current information. A man has arrived from Drobetae a short while ago. He made it through the pass, he and his two mules. He is with Antoninu Neves and Priam Corydon at present.” Bernardius and Mangueinic exchanged startled glances. “From Drobetae? What would he want here? Why not make for Apulum or Ulpia Traiana? They’re more accessible.” Mangueinic could not conceal his doubts about this new arrival. “What does he want with us?” 

“He says he was sent here, and he carries a letter from the Praetor-General of Drobetae to Priam Corydon,” Brevios declared. “In addition he has his own observations to report.”

“I was unaware that Drobetae had a Praetor-General,” said Bernardius, his observation laden with skepticism. “Non credo.” 

“He is newly appointed, the messenger says. A Roman landowner called Verus Flautens, long known to protect Roman interests in the former province of Dacia, which accounts for his advancement,” said Urridien, a trace of satisfaction in his voice. “Dom Sanctu-Germainios affirms he knows the name.”

“I, too, have exchanged messages with him,” said Bernardius. “Although it startles me that the Romans would decide to make such an appointment at a time like this.”

“It is one way to ensure that the old border is maintained on both sides of the Danuvius,” said Mangueinic. “He will undoubtedly work in concert with Gnaccus Tortulla in Viminacium, who is well- established.”

Thirhald laughed unpleasantly. “The man from Drobetae has said that he is charged with advising the Praetor-General, who has been assigned the task of keeping the road open and protected for those seeking to leave the former Province of Dacia, or to cross through it. It is our intention to take advantage of this extended protection before the Huns come along the Danuvius.”

“Why do you say the Huns will follow the Danuvius?” Bernardius asked. “Or has the messenger brought news about that, as well?”

“It is believed that they will attempt to cross the river into Moesia once the river passes the danger of flooding,”

“How do you plan to travel?” Mangueinic asked. “Which way will you go?”

“We’ll follow the old milestones on the Roman roads, and gauge ourselves every thousand paces in order to determine our speed of travel.” Thirhald nodded twice. “Just the way the merchants do.” 

“Huns can follow milestones, too, and they travel faster than a band of refugees,” Bernardius said in as steady a voice as he could produce. “As Goths follow white pebbles and notched tree-trunks.” 

“There are still some fortresses where we can find shelter if we need to seek protection.” Hovas gave Bernardius a hard look. “We will have Vilca Troed to guide us.”

Corcotos, who had been content to glare at Mangueinic and Bernardius, now spoke up. “You have no right to order us to remain here. It was never our intention to remain here. We only want to preserve what little we have left, and we cannot do that in this place, with the monks requiring we live according to their dictates.”

“You may not be able to preserve your goods and chattel anywhere else,” said Bernardius. “Some of the garrisons are as greedy as pirates on the sea, and some would not be above selling you into slavery if you will not pay them what they demand.”

“You say that to frighten us,” Hovas accused. “But Troed says that he knows all the garrison commanders from Porolissum—they are gone from that town now, but Troed knows them—to Durostorum, in Moesia Inferior. He will handle all our arrangements.”

“Dorus Teodoricos can probably be trusted,” said Bernardius, doing his best to be accommodating. “But there are others I wouldn’t put too much faith in. Cave amicum.”

“Because you’re so frightened you can’t see the advantage of leaving,” Hovas said scornfully. “You’ll stay here until the monks have everything.”

“I think,” said Mangueinic, “that you might want to hear what the newcomer from Drobetae has to say before you make any binding plans. He will undoubtedly have more information than any of us.”

Enlitus Brevios achieved a pugnacious stance. “If we speak with him, then you must hear what we hear, or you may be deceived by the monks, who are not above telling you things that will cause you to take their side. I don’t trust monks to be forthcoming about such matters.”

“Then let us seek this stranger out now,” said Bernardius. “I will ask Priam Corydon to allow us to join in the interview of the man.” He began to walk up the slope toward the cross-shaped monastery, not bothering to turn to see if he were being followed.

They found Priam Corydon, Antoninu Neves, and the messenger in the office of the monastery, all three men looking troubled at the sight of the eight encroachers who hardly bothered to knock on the door. Neves put his hand on the hilt of his sword, but moved it away again when Priam Corydon gave him a severe look and said, “This is no occasion for fighting.”

“They have come without being summoned,” said Neves.

“They would have been informed of the messenger’s presence before sunset in any case. I gather everyone within the walls is aware that our first visitor of the spring has arrived,” said Priam Corydon, trying to make the best of the awkward situation. He motioned to the plain wooden bench against the far wall. “You may be seated. All of you.”

Enlitus Brevios hesitated as if uncertain if such an offer were an insult. He considered the matter, then did as he was told; the others joined him. “Who is this man? They say he comes from Drobetae.”

“That I do,” the stranger said, absently chafing his forearm. “I am Hredus, a freedman in the household of the Praetor-General, Verus Flautens. He has dispatched me to discover where the people of Dacia are living now, and how well-prepared they are to defend themselves.” He ducked his head in an habitual show of respect.

“He has been giving us news from the former Province of Dacia,” said the Priam.

“And imparting all he has seen for himself as he made his way here,” added Neves.

Mangueinic leaned his crutch against the wall at the end of the bench; he stretched to relieve the tightening in his back. “What have you seen, Freedman Hredus?”

“There are many encampments of refugees, most of them at lower elevations than this one, most of them fairly small—perhaps fifty persons and as many animals,” said Hredus promptly. “I have noticed that the greatest number of refugees are from the high plateau, northwest of this valley, where the land is flat enough for a good cavalry attack. About half the refugees have been driven out by Huns; the others have left anticipating attacks.” He paused. “They say the Huns leave few survivors where they have passed. And if they attack a second time, they come in greater numbers. They are like a plague on the land.”

“So have we all heard,” said Enlitus Brevios, an edge of defiance in his remark. “The Gepidae and Carpi have said it, and so have the Goths and Daci.”

“According to rumor, this new Hunnic King, Attila, is organizing his forces along Roman lines, and is changing his manner of attack to confront fortresses and ground troops.” Hredus nodded to Neves. “You have heard of this, haven’t you?”

“That I have, but haven’t been able to gather more information since the first storm of winter,” said Neves. “No one could reach this valley, and no one could leave.”

“Except the fifteen we exiled,” said Brevios under his breath. “We all have heard the same thing,” added Mangueinic.

“Many garrison commanders are convinced that Attila is going to focus his efforts on Aquincum, from where he can strike out at all the Carpathians, and position himself to assault cities farther west, or so they have informed the Praetor-General,” said Hredus. Three garrison commanders had offered him such speculation, which seemed enough to bring it to the attention of these men. He scratched at a patch of darkened skin on his forearm. “I’m told you have a healer here. Do you think he could do something to alleviate this infernal itch?”

“If there is anything to be done, Dom Sanctu-Germainios will do it,” said Mangueinic.

“The regional guardian of Apulum Inferior?” Hredus asked, startled.

“The same,” said Mangueinic. “The monks at the infirmary have nothing to match his knowledge of medicaments, and they have their hands full with those suffering from dry eyes and wet noses. You may need more than prayers and powdered angelica-root. Without the Dom’s skill, I’d have lost my life and not just my leg.” Hredus concealed his interest. “If it’s convenient, I’d like to consult him after evening supper.”

“It will be arranged,” said Priam Corydon, anxious to learn more from Hredus. “How long did it take you to reach us? How were the roads and the bridges? How many towns have been attacked?”

“I would have been here some days since, but the late storm prevented me from traveling at all for three days, and then the snow was so deep that I couldn’t determine if I would get through the pass at all.” Hredus scratched his wrist again. “There were wolves about, and bear, so I didn’t want to risk making camp outside sturdy walls, and that, too, slowed me down.”

“Better a few days late than dead,” Bernardius said.

“As to the condition of the road, the nearer you are to Roman territory—East or West—the better the roads are, but they are not as fine as records say they were a century ago. Most of the roads are in need of repair, and in some areas, total replacement is required. Three of the small bridges between Drobetae and Gepidorum are no longer safe to cross so I ferried across some ten thousand paces below Ulpia Traiana, which has been raided, but I can’t say who the raiders were. That was why I didn’t remain near the town. The river was high but the main thaw had barely started. By now, it will be a torrent.” Hredus could see the trenchant involvement of the men in the room, and he decided to make the most of it. “One merchant I encountered not far from Ulpia Traiana told me that the Huns are moving out into the plains to the northwest of here. He had it from a family of farmers from Auru Calida; the Huns burned them out.”

“Others have suggested that,” said Priam Corydon.

“Then it may be worthy of your attention. This part of the mountains is only two or three days’ ride to the beginning of the plains; if the land were flatter you could cut that time in half,” Hredus said. “Once they’re set up in a camp, your valley will be one of the first they’re likely to seek out.”

“You must have a great deal to impart to the Praetor-General,” said Bernardius. “Can you tell us why he sent you here?”

Hredus chuckled. “He wants someone he can trust to get close enough to the Huns to observe them, but not so close as to risk being caught.” He said it very much the way Flautens had told him to answer such an inquiry. His eyes gave nothing away; his many years of slavery had taught him to conceal every aspect of his thoughts and emotions.

“Then he must trust you,” said Priam Corydon. “We’ll bear that in mind.”

Enlitus Brevios spoke up. “We’ll want to consult this man more closely, for some of us are planning to leave as soon as we can take our wagons through the pass, and we’ll want to be prepared for what we should expect. We will be bound for Viminacium.” His hard smile challenged Priam Corydon to forbid them to go.

“If you are determined, then I will not attempt to stop you. But I urge you to be sure that you will be as safe as possible during your travels. You will be responsible for the well-being of those going with you, and the preservation of their souls.” Priam Corydon rose.

“Who among you is planning to leave?” Urridien answered first, then Bacoem, Hovas, Thirhald, and Corcotos. “And what of you, Mangueinic? and Tribune Bernardius?”