‘That won’t be possible,’ objected Ambrosinus. ‘They have certainly been ordered to garrison the bridge, and we’ll never get past them. We’ll be separated forever.’ He looked over at the mule and the shields still hanging from his saddle, and a sudden idea struck him. ‘Listen, I know what we can do. Six centuries ago, a group of Cimbrian warriors managed to avoid being encircled by the troops of consul Lutatius Catulus on the Alps. What they did took their opponents completely by surprise: they slid down the snowy slope on their shields.’
‘On their shields?’ repeated Vatrenus incredulously.
‘Yes, that’s right, holding on to the inside straps. Plutarch tells the stories in his Lives. We haven’t a moment to lose.’
A pause of uncertainty greeted his proposal, apparently so absurd. Then, one by one, they untied their shields and set them down on the ground.
‘That’s right,’ approved Ambrosinus. ‘Sit inside and hold tight to the straps, like this. By shifting the weight of your body to the right or to the left and by pulling on the straps you should be able to stay on route. Is that clear?’
They all nodded, even Batiatus, who was looking terrified at the steep descent that separated them from the bridge. Aurelius helped Romulus on to the saddle in front of him and began to cross the slope at oblique angles, first in one direction and then in the other. When he reached the level ground, he dug in his heels, urging Juba into a fast trot and then into a gallop, across the snowy plain. The barbarians on both sides soon realized what was happening and spurred on their horses, but they were hindered by the snow which had accumulated in the hollows on the sides of the hill, so that Aurelius managed to stay ahead of them.
‘Go, Juba!’ he pressed on his steed, as Romulus looked back and forth to measure the advance of their enemies, and then twisted around to see if Ambrosinus had succeeded in his mad plan. What he saw left him nearly speechless: ‘Look, Aurelius!’ he shouted. ‘They’re coming down!’
One after another, darting to the left and right, they shot down on their shields, each one driven by its occupant: Demetrius, Vatrenus, Orosius, Livia, Ambrosinus himself with his long white hair flying out behind him and finally Batiatus, who was struggling to keep his balance on that precarious nutshell.
Aurelius sped on and crossed the bridge at a gallop, proceeding straight to the edge of the forest. He turned to see how his comrades were faring and saw that the human avalanche had hit rough terrain on the level ground near the bank and concluded its descent with a ruinous fall. What happened next was a question of mere moments. Vatrenus got to his feet first and saw the barbarians converging on them, very close now, from both sides. He looked towards the bridge and realized that they had one last chance. ‘On the bridge, everyone!’ he shouted. ‘The bridge will take us down the river!’ The others stumbled to their feet as quickly as they could and ran after him on to the pontoons. Vatrenus ordered: ‘Batiatus, you and Demetrius, cut the ropes on that side, Orosius and I on this side. At my signal. Now!’
Aurelius tried to draw up on the other side, but their axes and swords were already coming down on the anchor ropes and the entire pontoon bridge, cut loose, slipped off on the current at great speed, leaving the furious barbarians at the shore. Wulfila himself had just arrived and he shouted at Aurelius: ‘I’ll find you, you coward! I’ll find you wherever you hide! I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth!’
Aurelius was seething: for the first time in his life he couldn’t react to such an arrogant challenge. He said not a word, but turned his horse and galloped away.
*
After not even a mile, Romulus, who hadn’t lost sight of the river for an instant, spotted the convoy of boats gliding swiftly over the waters, and it looked to him as if everyone was there. They were gripping the ropes at the rail and holding fast to each other so they would not slip into the whirlpools of the impetuous current. Then the strange vessel disappeared behind a wooded thicket which cut them off from his view. He had barely had time to shout: ‘There they are,’ when they had already vanished.
Aurelius let his horse slow to a walk.
‘Now we’ll never catch up with them!’ complained Romulus.
‘There’s no horse that can keep pace with a mountain river. The slope is steep and the water rushes very swiftly downstream. Juba is tired, you know: he has to carry both of us, we can’t ask him for more than he can give. Don’t worry, Romulus, we’ll continue to follow the current; I wager that we soon find them run aground on some sandbank, you’ll see. Otherwise they’ll go to shore as soon as the river slows down, at a port down on the plain. They’ll wait for us there.’
‘But why did they do it?’ fretted Romulus. ‘They could have crossed the bridge and cut the ropes on this side.’
‘That’s true, but Vatrenus made the wisest decision, like the true strategist and great soldier that he is. Think about it a moment: if he had done as you suggest, we would have been all together again, true, but on foot. Our progress would have been so slow that the barbarians would have had plenty of time to improvise a makeshift footbridge, or ford the river upstream, and overtake us easily within our first day’s march. Instead, our companions now have the possibility of putting a considerable distance between themselves and their pursuers, and the two of us are free to move along much more rapidly. We can hide if need be, change itinerary or even perhaps find another horse on our way, which would allow us to move even faster.’
Romulus pondered over his words, then said: ‘I’m sure you’re right, but I’m just wondering what Ambrosinus can be thinking, and what he’s feeling now that we’re separated.’
‘Ambrosinus can take good care of himself, and his advice will be precious for our comrades.’
‘That’s true, but this is the first time we’ve been separated since I was five years old’
‘Do you mean that he’s always been at your side in all the years you’ve known him?’
‘Oh, yes. Much more than my mother and father. More than anyone else. He is the wisest and the most clever person that I know. He never ceases to surprise me: I’ve seen him do things, in this time since Odoacer imprisoned me, that I could never have imagined. Who knows how many other secrets he has in store!’
‘You must care for him deeply,’ said Aurelius.
The boy smiled, recalling certain moments they’d lived through together. ‘He’s a little crazy at times,’ he said, ‘but he’s the dearest person in the world to me.’
Aurelius fell silent. He spurred his horse into a faster gait again so as not to put too much distance between them and the boats, which he imagined must be travelling swiftly down the river. Nor did he want their pursuers to gain an advantage; he was convinced that they hadn’t given up the chase and were trying somehow to cross over. Their journey continued without difficulty through an enchanting landscape of rocky peaks coloured purple by the sun as it descended towards the horizon. The mountain lakes were incredibly translucent, shiny as mirrors as they reflected the deep green of the forests, the blinding white of the snow and the intense blue of the sky. Romulus was struck by such beauty, breathlessly taking in every change of perspective, every variation of light.
Aurelius once again gave Juba a rest and let him walk for a while.
‘I’ve never seen anything like this!’ said Romulus. ‘Whose land is it?’
‘It was once the land of the Helvetians, a people belonging to the Celtic nation who dared to challenge the great Caesar.’
‘I know about that episode,’ replied Romulus. ‘I’ve read De Bello Gallico several times. Why would they ever choose to leave such a delightful place?’
‘Men are never happy with what they have,’ replied Aurelius. ‘We are always condemned to seek new lands, new horizons, new riches. Just as individuals want to emerge over others, and excel in terms of wealth or bravery or wisdom, so do peoples and nations. On the one hand, this means continuous progress in research, exploration, the trades and other human activities, while on the oth
er it produces conflicts which are often bloody. Huge efforts are demanded, but they are often futile, I’m afraid, and we have to pay dearly for everything that we’ve attained at the cost of such exertion. In the end, the losses suffered are greater than the advantages won. The Helvetians had the mountains but perhaps they desired the vast, fertile plains. Or perhaps their numbers had multiplied so that these narrow valleys could no longer contain them. They imagined that by expanding into the plains they would become a stronger, more populous nation and thus more powerful. What they obtained, instead, was their own annihilation.’
‘What about you, Aurelius?’ asked Romulus. ‘What do you want for yourself ? What do you aspire to?’
‘I want . . . peace.’
‘Peace! I can’t believe that: you’re a warrior, the strongest and bravest that I’ve ever met.’
‘I’m not a warrior, I’m a soldier. It’s different. I only fight when fighting becomes necessary to defend what I believe in. No one knows how horrible war is more than a miles, a combatant. Do you know what I’d really like? I would like, one day, to live in a secluded, tranquil place, cultivating the fields and raising animals. I’d like to sleep without having to jump to my feet at any moment of the night, at any sudden sound, my sword already in fist. I’d like to awaken to the cock’s crow and not to a trumpet sounding an alarm. But what I’d really like is the peace of mind that I’ve never had. That doesn’t seem all that difficult, now does it Romulus? Yet it’s impossible. We live in a world where no one is sure of anything any more.’
The sun was sinking below the horizon, spreading its last rosy glow on the majestic peaks that crowned the immense range. Aurelius was eager not to lose contact with his only link to his companions, and had tried to get as close as possible to the river, but he was also afraid of running the risk of being spotted by Wulfila’s men, who couldn’t be far away now.
‘We’ll rest just a little,’ he said, ‘and then we’ll resume our journey.’
‘Where will they be now?’ asked Romulus.
‘Ahead of us, certainly, by at least a day’s journey I’d guess. The river never rests, it flows day and night, and they’ll flow with the river. We have steep, narrow, rocky paths to contend with, we’ll have to cross forests and ford streams.’
Romulus took the blankets from the saddle and prepared a resting place for the night in a niche in the rock, which would do fine as a look-out as well, as Aurelius removed the horse’s bit and put on his halter.
‘Aurelius?’
‘Yes, Caesar.’
Romulus broke off a moment, peeved by Aurelius’s use of that title, then asked: ‘Is there a chance we’ll never see them again?’
‘I think you know the answer to that question: yes. There may be rapids on the river, waterfalls or sharp rocks that could break the boats to pieces. There’s nothing but ice and snow all around, and the water is freezing; if they fall in they won’t be able to last more than a few moments. No environment is more hostile than the mountains in the wintertime. They may be attacked by bands of brigands, derelict soldiers looking to plunder them. Dangers never end in this world of ours.’
Romulus lay down in silence, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders.
‘Sleep now,’ said Aurelius. ‘Juba is a good guard. He’ll let us know if anyone approaches and we’ll be able to slip away in time. I always sleep with one eye open anyway.’
‘What about them? How close might they be?’
‘Our pursuers? I don’t know. A couple of hours, maybe half a day or more. I don’t think they’re too far away, and the traces we’re leaving in the snow are so evident that even a child could follow them.’
Romulus was quiet for a little while, then asked: ‘What happens if they catch up with us?’
Aurelius hesitated for a moment before answering. ‘Danger is something that must be faced when it comes. Imagining it ahead of time can only make the situation worse. Fear can only magnify what threatens us. When you do find yourself suddenly faced with a dangerous situation, your mind calls up all its resources and your body is flooded with a powerful flow of energy. Your heart beats faster, your muscles expand and become harder, the enemy becomes a target to bring down, to crush, to annihilate . . .’
Romulus looked at him in admiration. ‘You’re not just a soldier, Aurelius. You are a warrior.’
‘That happens when you’ve had to live in the midst of horror and destruction for years. There’s a beast slumbering in each one of us: war awakens him.’
‘Can I ask you one last thing?’
‘Certainly.’
‘What are you thinking about when you are silent for hours and hours, and you don’t even hear me when I say something to you?’
‘Do I do that?’
‘Yes. Maybe my conversation annoys you or bothers you.’
‘No, Caesar, no . . . it’s just that I’m trying . . .’
‘Trying to do what?’
‘To remember.’
*
The pontoon bridge, freed from its anchors, had been swept away by the current at great speed. It had held together horizontally at first, foreboding a catastrophe. A huge boulder sat in the middle of the river not half a mile away; it would certainly break the fragile convoy in two. Ambrosinus immediately foresaw the danger and shouted: ‘To the outermost boat, hurry!’ He was the first to crawl over, grabbing on where he could to avoid falling into the water. The others followed him, and as their weight accumulated on the pontoon furthest to the left, it picked up speed and edged forward, assuming the head position. The other floats shifted rapidly behind it. Thus stabilized, the convoy passed to the right of the rock, skimming it but avoiding impact, and they all breathed a sigh of relief.
‘We need poles to use as oars,’ said Ambrosinus. ‘Try to fish some branches out of the current.’
‘We can dismantle part of the boats,’ proposed Vatrenus.
‘No, that would just make us go faster and we’d lose stability; the floats trailing behind us are keeping us in trim. We need something to row with, quickly.’
There were no big branches in the water, just lightweight sticks that wouldn’t serve their purpose. Batiatus looked towards the rail. ‘Will this do?’ he shouted to be heard over the rushing waters. Ambrosinus nodded and the giant easily pulled out the left railing, a long, roughly-squared pole, and took a stance near Ambrosinus who had become the helmsman of that strange vessel. The speed of the current was increasing and there were rapids up ahead: the water was seething and foaming from the middle of the river almost all the way to the right bank. Ambrosinus ordered Batiatus to drive the pole down on the left, as deep as he could and with all the strength he had. Batiatus carried out the task with unsuspected expertise and the pontoon veered to the left, skirting the rapids, but the tail had not adjusted so quickly to the rapid change of direction of the front floats, and the last boat crashed violently against the rocks and flew into pieces.
The men turned to watch the shattered bits of the wreck being carried away by the whirling rapids, then immediately turned their attention to how they could maintain an equilibrium so continuously threatened by the jarring impact with rocks and waves. It felt something like being in the saddle of an untamed horse, as the boats bounced and jerked their way down the river. The bottom and banks were irregular and the rocky outcrops jutting towards the centre created sudden whirlpools and vortexes. The river bed would widen and they would slow down unexpectedly, only to pick up speed just as suddenly as the river took a turn downhill. The occupants of the bizarre craft were under continuous stress in the mere attempt to maintain their balance.
At a certain point, the torrent slowed and the rough bottom seemed to level out so that they thought they were out of danger, but large gravel beds began to appear, along with the no less devastating risk of running aground. In one of their sudden turns, Orosius lost his balance, rolled over the planks and fell into the water.
‘Orosius has fallen overboard!’ cried Demet
rius in distress. ‘Hurry, help me, the current is pulling him under!’ Vatrenus used his sword to cut one of the ropes which served as a stay and he threw it out repeatedly, but Orosius couldn’t manage to grab it.
‘If we don’t get him out, the cold will kill him,’ shouted Ambrosinus.
Without saying a word, Livia took one end of the rope and tied it to her waist, and gave the other end to Vatrenus. ‘Hold on tight!’ she said, and dived into the water, swimming energetically towards Orosius who was at the mercy of the current and fast losing his capacity to react. She reached him and grabbed him by the belt, shouting: ‘I’ve got him! Pull me in!’ Vatrenus and the others pulled on the rope with everything they had as Batiatus tried to keep the bow as straight as possible, until first Livia, then Orosius, were hoisted on board. They were completely soaked through and freezing and Orosius was practically unconscious. Their comrades covered them with their blankets, so they could remove their wet clothes and try to dry off somehow. Their teeth were chattering and both were deathly pale. Orosius barely had the time to stammer out ‘Thank you,’ before he fainted.
Vatrenus approached Livia and lay a hand on her shoulder. ‘And to think I didn’t want you with us. You are strong and generous, girl. Happy is the man who will someday join his life with yours.’ Livia responded with a tired smile and went to curl up near Ambrosinus.
The current finally slowed towards evening and the river became wider and wider as they reached the high plains, but they still found no place to anchor and wait for Aurelius, who everyone imagined was following them as fast as he could. The next morning they found themselves at a confluence with another course of water on their left, and yet it wasn’t until the next day, towards evening, when the river had finally reached the plains, that they succeeded in taking the craft ashore and tying it with a rope to a stake. Their great river journey had come to an end for the moment. Now they would wait patiently for the group to reunite, for the little army to find its leader and its emperor.
The Last Legion Page 30