by Ellis Knox
He seemed to wait for a comment, but she could think of nothing to say. She finally thought of “thank you” but he continued before she could say the words. She looked down, embarrassed.
“So. I have chosen a new man to rule the Eastern Empire. This man—his name is Theodosius—comes from Hispania.”
The familiar word made her look up.
“Yes. He has vast estates there, and they border lands scarcely inhabited. This is convenient because what our Julian asked of me was a home—a home for the Thervingian people.”
“What do you mean?” Inglena blurted.
Gratian’s eyebrows went up, but he smiled. “I am pleased I finally got a response. I feared I was boring you.”
“I beg your pardon,” Inglena said. “I did not know what to say.”
“No matter. My news is that you and your people have leave to travel through the Empire to Hispania. You must behave yourselves and not attack our citizens. Once you reach your new homeland, you will become foederati of the Empire.”
Inglena cocked her head.
“It means something like, members of the empire,” Marcus explained.
“It is good land there in Hispania,” Gratian added.
“Yes,” Inglena said. “Marcus has spoken of it often. He was born there.”
“Vere. The Salvii are known to Theodosius. I believe it is one reason why he was willing to make such a generous donation. You will, of course, pay an annual tribute to Theodosius’ family.”
Inglena nodded, unable to grasp fully what was happening. A home. No goblins. No exile. She looked at the Emperor, thinking it was probably not appropriate for her to throw her arms around his neck.
The Romans soon learned new tactics. The goblins always were attracted to anything that appeared weak, so the Romans began to use the feigned retreat. The goblins would pursue, whereupon the Romans would counter-attack on both flanks. The ensuring months saw one slaughter after another. As the Horde dispersed ever more widely, the bands that were slaughtered became steadily smaller, even as individual packs roamed widely.
By the next year, there were still many thousands of goblins, but no more goblin armies. Instead, they scattered far and wide, into Greece, westward into the Alpi Mountains, and north into the Carpati Mountains. Hunted everywhere, goblins learned to love the mountain caves, and the deep forests that shielded them from Roman arms.
Marcus and Inglena crossed the Great River on boats provided by Gratian and proceeded west along the Roman road, in the direction of the Iron Gates. Theodosius had said the Thervingian camp was a little over a day upriver. They spent the night among tightly folded hills covered in deep pine forests. Marcus talked long into the night about Hither Spain, its ragged mountains that fed clear streams, its wide hills that were so well-suited to sheep and orchards, its pleasant towns and fine cities that shone bright under the Spanish sun. Inglena worried about how far away it all was, how many things could go wrong when the Thervingians were so few, but his voice was happy and warm, and she listened to his sound and his rolling Latin cadences more than to his words. It was enough. She was content.
The next day, they reached the Thervingian camp at mid-afternoon. Even though it was late October, the day was warm and clear. The mountains were very close now, deep green under the angling sun, but with sprays of yellow and red among the elm and oak that were scattered across the mountain flanks. The band of exiles climbed over one more low pass and a valley lay before them, stretching right to left, north to south, no more than a mile across with a small river, hardly more than a stream this time of year, sliding its way toward the Ister. The valley was verdant and pleasant and filled with Thervingi.
At first, Inglena thought Fritigern must have brought his people through, or that Athanaric lived after all, there were so many black tents. But she soon learned otherwise. Gathered in this valley were stragglers from all across Dacia and even from within the Empire, all drawn by a single promise—that Queen Inglena would lead them.
They descended on the Roman road, unsure what to do. She had imagined a few score stragglers, a few hundred at most, grateful to be absorbed into a larger group, but here there were thousands and it was the Exiled who were the minority.
Word spread quickly, and soon the whole of the valley was lining both sides of the road, shouting and cheering. The men wore their finest and brandished weapons. The women all wore white embroidered with their clan patterns, while children ran and shouted on the road in front.
Thus she was led to a great tent, the largest she had ever seen, atop a knoll, and it was a pavilion prepared especially for her and “her Roman.” She was glad that Marcus' poor grasp of the Thervingi language caused him to hear the phrase as “that Roman.” The tent floor was covered in carpets, the beds of finest chamois, and banners hung everywhere – white and black and red. People told her the white and black were for the Thervingi, the red for Rome, and that this would be her new clan colors.
She and all the Exiled were welcomed as heroes, and all the clans agreed and swore that no Gifted would be sent into exile ever again. That was the moment she had longed for above all, and when the oaths were sworn, the people hailed her as Queen Inglena, ruler of all the Thervingian people. She wept.
The celebration lasted five days, and for five days the weather held, warm and clear, as if autumn had somehow come to stay. Then a big squall rolled through. Though brief, it reminded everyone of the winter that was to come. So the tents were rolled up and the herds gathered and the Thervingi, one people now, passed through the Iron Gates on the ninth of November. They marveled at the massive doors, though those who had fought at Constantinople declared that the Romans had gates even grander.
Marcus and Inglena held back, watching their people pass under the arches and below the fortress walls beyond. When the last were through, Inglena of the Thervingi and Marcus Salvius of the Legio XII Heraclea went together through the Iron Gates, to found a new kingdom in the distant West. After they had passed through, the gates were lowered again, and Roman soldiers took up once more their watch upon the east.
THE END
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An Explanation to the Altearth Reader, by the Altearth Author
This version of the Battle of Hadrianopolis and the Defense of Constantinople will, without doubt, have its critics. It will be blasted as relying on discredited sources, roasted for wholesale fictional creations, and decried for pretending to certainty where none exists.
I plead guilty on all counts.
In Re Hobs
Hobgoblins? Halbgoblins? Goblin mages?
A dozen theories exist concerning these creatures, some far less likely than others, but none able to be proved decisively, for they no longer exist.
I reject the phrase “goblin mage” for it creates the impression of someone learned in the Arts. This the creatures most surely were not. Whether or not we suppose they had intelligence, they did not have knowledge. They possessed only a natural ability. Every source is in agreement on this.
As for the term halbgoblin, this is obviously a neologism, to be found only among the Germanic peoples. Tales from Swabia and the Neumark speak of goblins who could hurl fire, and in those tales we do encounter the word halb goblin (also, the Schwäbischerdeutsch, halp gobbelin), but nothing like “half-goblin” is to be found in older sources, nor in non-Germanic sources. It is a linguistic peculiarity, nothing more.
The more widespread hobgoblin might be the obvious choice, but that word has its own connotations and history. Everyone “knows” what a hobgoblin is, and it is a thing far from the creatures of this tale.
I took it upon myself, therefore, to invent my own word for them, and so we have hobs. I can only trust the reader to go along with my little conceit.
The People
I have taken more liberties here, perhaps, than anywhere else. The sources regarding the Thuringian tribes are unclear and contradictory. After trying to choose a version to adopt (Rufus Festus, Memmius Symmachus, et alia), I yielded instead to the demands of storytelling and have woven some together while neglecting others entirely. For those interested in such matters, the Greuthung, Taifali and Getae were each distinct tribes. In other cases I demoted a tribe to clan status, or made a minor tribe into a major player.
The Bridge of Constantine
History buffs will leap on this one, for while the bridge had indeed collapsed, Emperor Valens had caused it to be repaired. I contemplated leaving it in place, but for story reasons a battle at the bridge would have made other battles anti-climactic. I hope the serious student of history will forgive this in the name of a serious love of story.
List of Characters
Lucius Julianus Metellus (Julian), General of the XII Legion
Avitus, a Scythian slave
Marcus Salvius, Tribune of the First Cohort
Gaius Herennius Actius Pulcher (Ennius), Captain of the Cavalry
Aulus Libo Tanax, Tribune of the Second Cohort
Gaius Crispus, Tribune of the Third Cohort
Rufus Panneus, Tribune of the Fourth Cohort
Ursinus Desidenius, Standard-bearer of the XII
Serapion, a scout of the XII
Pheidon, surgeon of the XII
Inglena, princess of the Thervings
Fritigern, King of the Thervings
Athanaric, King of the Greuthungs; also called Grimbeard
Syragius, a Therving
Bosomil, a Thervingian clan chief
Raginmar, a Thervingian clan chief
Thrasimund, Chief of the Taifali
Peraxis, a rixen healer
Stavanos, a rixen
Leuva, rixen leader
Remmich, a Therving boy with water magic
Alavia, Remmich’s beloved
Fist, a Therving
Dio Rullianus Pictor, a Roman
Lady Helena, mother of Julian
Arrian Silvianus, a soldier of the XV Legion
Plotinus, political enemy of Julian back in Constantinople
Valens, Roman Emperor, Augustus of the East
Quintus Murena, a soldier of the XV Legion
Gnaeus Lupicinus, commander of the XXIII Legion
Tykonos, innkeeper of the White Dog, from Trebizond
Petra, a Roman girl
Bucephalus, her dog