After the Fall(24)
The prefect was sweating profusely, and simply raised his shoulders and shrugged. “Honorius is willing to speak with the barbarian king on these matters, but only under certain circumstances.”
Magnus glowered. “Those being?”
“The Visigoths must lay down their weapons, all of their weapons, and unsaddle their horses,” Jovius said. “When they enter the tent, they, you all, are to enter on knee, heads bowed.”
Incensed at the outrageous request, Magnus looked to Alaric for his response.
“Tell your emperor,” Alaric said loudly, speaking perfect Latin, “he may dine on my shit, and no Visigoth shall ever take a knee before him, for he does not deserve such respect.”
Jovius blanched at the coarse response, and General Sarus grew red with anger. However, Constantius, who had been sullen throughout the proceeding, looked straight into Magnus’s eyes and smiled.
Before anyone could say another word, Alaric gave a signal, and the delegation mounted up. The horses, sensing the tension in the air, shied and pranced, but Alaric kept his under control as he paused to glare at the Romans.
“Honorius is a fool,” the king said, “and you are worse fools for following him. Hispania is in upheaval, as is Gaul and Britannia. The Huns salivate across the Danubius, and I heard their loathsome leader yearns for the day when he may swill his beer from a cup made from Honorius’s skull. Will you be able to stop him? I say Rome has neither the army nor the will to defend herself. Yet you scorn us, your only and last hope of defense, and you deny us what is rightfully ours.” His horse reared up, fretful, but Alaric controlled him with a firm hand. “Your worst enemy is not those trying to invade your land. Your emperor is your doom!”
King Alaric turned his horse sharply and left.
Cantering behind the king, Magnus watched Alaric, considering what had just taken place. As a fighter, as an angry man, he approved the prideful outburst; as a diplomat who would have to try to patch up the wounds inflicted today, he wondered if the Visigoths would ever achieve the homeland and respect they deserved.
They rode hard for over a mile, until Alaric slowed to a walk and the others followed suit.
“Magnus,” Alaric motioned to him, “ride beside me. Athaulf, you, too.”
When the three were riding abreast, Alaric shook his head, frowning. “I was wrong to explode as I did,” he admitted. “The things Jovius said in Honorius’s name, and reading such demeaning tripe in front of everyone, I could have torn both their throats out! I was justified in what I said, but I know well enough our future homeland must, must weigh more heavily than pride, and for that I am sorry.”
“Do you wish me to go back?” Magnus asked dubiously. “I would suggest waiting a few days. I’m sure they are every bit as angry with you as you are with them, especially since your words actually held more than a little truth in them.”
“Perhaps we need to ask for less,” Athaulf suggested. “Forget the title for now. If we can get some agreement, some amount of land for our people, that will give us time, and then perhaps we may add more in the months and years to follow.”
“Give Honorius a week to cool off,” Magnus offered. “He will be getting new reports from the northern provinces soon, and he may yet come to realize how badly he needs you on his side. Then we can send a request for another meeting. We might ask if he has a counter-proposal he is willing to put forth.”
Alaric nodded. “What is the least land we can tolerate? Noricum and Dalmatia? Noricum alone?”
Athaulf shrugged. “Noricum would do for now — ”
The sound of drumming hoof beats broke through their conversation, and the small group reined in, alert.
A Visigoth horseman cleared a rise in front of them at full gallop, and then wrenched his lathered horse to a halt. His eyes were wild and his leather breastplate slashed and bloody.
“King Alaric, hurry! Queen Verica sent me — we’ve come under attack — Roman troops — they ambushed our people while you parleyed — slaughtering women and children! Hurry!”
Gigi!
“Yah!” Magnus shouted and his horse, Agrippa, sprang forward with the others. Galloping toward camp, everyone was jostling for position, trying to find room along the narrow roadway. Three times Sergeric’s mount crashed into his, and Magnus had to fight to keep his horse from losing his footing. The fourth time, Sergeric’s horse leapt into his, hooves thrashing, as though it were trying to jump over Agrippa, forcing his stallion to stumble violently.