Alaric knew this too. So when Jovius sent a delegation to Rome informing him of the Roman about-face and inviting him and Athaulf to Ariminum (Rimini) near Ravenna to negotiate a settlement, Alaric was, most probably, not in the least surprised.28 Although the worth of the emperor’s word and the meaningfulness of so-called Roman honour and justice had become seriously devalued commodities, he was nonetheless persuaded.
Admittedly, he had Rome under siege and had once again pinched an artery of the western empire, but he had no intention of executing his threat and sacking it. That would be futile and result only in failure: he would be forsaking the chance of a permanent, long-term peace for short-term gains that would only mean more running, more looking over his shoulder, more insecurity for his people. It would be the political equivalent of banging his head against a brick wall. Slowly he picked himself up, begged his disaffected brother-in-law to lend him his support, and together the disgruntled men headed north to meet Jovius. He was at last going to prise all he could out of the Romans.
Alaric put his terms on the table. He wanted an annual payment of gold, an annual supply of grain, and an agreement that the Goths could settle in the Roman provinces of the two Venetias (the region around Venice), Noricum and Dalmatia. His final term – a senior generalship for himself in the Roman army – would secure his influence at court and a voice to protect the interests of his people. The terms were dispatched to Honorius, and Jovius, Alaric and Athaulf awaited the emperor’s response. When it came back the letter was read out and at first it sounded promising. Honorius agreed to the corn and the gold, but he made no mention of the land question. And as for the generalship. . . Allow a barbarian a principal role in his government? No, that was absolutely out of the question!29
Alaric flew into a rage. Thumping his fist on the table, he threatened the immediate burning, sacking and destruction of Rome, and promptly marched out. Jovius left too, though for Ravenna, and more out of fear that the deal had blown up in his face. It took some days for Alaric to regain his composure. Finally, he asked some bishops to act as his emissaries and sent the emperor a radically revised offer. He did not want the money or the position, or even Venetia or Dalmatia. All he wanted, he said, was the measly province of Noricum for his people, a province that was ‘situated at the far end of the Danube, was continuously harried by invasions, and contributed little tax to the treasury’.30
This was an extraordinary moment. Here was a man who could have destroyed the western empire at the nod of his head, who had all the power and held all the aces. Yet he was prepared to sacrifice that power in return for a durable peace, a stable home and a permanent end to the suffering of his people. Ultimately, he wanted the Roman empire to survive just so long as his people had a place in it. Even Honorius was astounded. When the bishops read out Alaric’s offer, ‘everyone alike was amazed at the man’s moderation’.31 Incredibly, however, the callow, capricious emperor refused Alaric’s request. The sources don’t make clear exactly why. Perhaps in the end he preferred to sacrifice the city of Rome rather than come to terms with his enemy. Ultimately, he was prepared to allow even the city in which his sister was held hostage to be destroyed rather than suffer the humiliation of having to make the Goths Roman partners on Roman soil.
For the third time Alaric marched on Rome. Athaulf and his generals, snorting plumes of scorn and hatred for Honorius and the western empire, must have bayed for their leader to honour his threat. Alaric, however, was not going to attack yet. Admittedly, he had now given up on the western Roman emperor, but he was determined not to give up on the western Roman empire. In the summer of 409, to the problem of how to apply pressure without resorting to violence, Alaric devised a cunning solution. He recruited in Rome the help of an ambitious, patrician senator with a fondness for Rome’s ancient past and ideas above his station. The Goth sanctioned this man’s appointment by the Senate to the rank of emperor, and set up a new seat of power in the ancient capital to rival that of Honorius in Ravenna. As a result, in the summer of 409 there were, unbelievably, three ‘emperors’ in the west: Honorius, Constantine III and now Attalus. Alaric at last had a temporary place in the western Roman state: as Attalus’s commander-in-chief.
The bold plan certainly hurt Honorius. As Alaric’s army won over northern Italy to Attalus’s cause, Honorius was sent spinning into a panic. He even considered abandoning the western empire, and had some ships prepared to whisk him off to Constantinople. His resolve to face the enemy was given a much-needed injection of steel only when 4000 reinforcement soldiers from the eastern empire arrived just in time and defended Ravenna. Soon, however, perhaps urged by Jovius, Honorius came up with a way to counter the rebellion.
The province of North Africa, on whose grain supply Rome relied for food, was still loyal to Honorius, so the one legitimate western emperor simply ordered it to be cut off. Attalus’s brief, insubstantial regime quickly became discredited. Even Alaric, who had effectively promoted him to emperor, grew disillusioned with, and tired of, this irritating, pathetic mock-emperor. He stripped him of his imperial robes and sent them to Honorius to prove his change of strategy once again. In the end, Alaric took Galla Placidia, Honorius’s sister, hostage. Cocooned in Ravenna, the insensitive Honorius still turned a blind eye to the ancient capital on its knees. And still the Goth did not attack Rome.
Alaric’s decisiveness, his foresight and determination to achieve his vision are all the more astonishing because the stakes were now higher than ever. He had a new battle on his hands – this time with his own administration. Not to punish Rome violently for Honorius’s treatment of the Gothic nation encamped on Italian soil was a highly unpopular policy. Athaulf and others would have made their position clear: a treaty with the Romans was simply pie in the sky. The Romans could not even be trusted to keep their word! Athaulf and the restless administrators had reason on their side. Indeed, it was now so difficult to sell a policy of negotiation rather than force that Alaric’s leadership was on the line. Nonetheless, with the odds utterly stacked against him, he was prepared to stake all his quickly evaporating political clout on one final throw of the dice.
When he sent one last delegation to Ravenna little did he know it, but Honorius was, most probably, finally ready to make peace. A deal was on the table. But if Honorius and Alaric were expecting to resolve the great problem of the Goths by negotiation, their hopes were to be shattered in the most unexpected and tragic way. As Alaric, Athaulf and their detachment of Gothic soldiers made their journey north and reached to within 12 kilometres (7 miles) of Ravenna, they were ambushed by the Roman general Sarus. Alaric was completely stunned.
Unbeknownst to the emperor, Sarus had decided to act on his own initiative. He knew that any settlement between Alaric and the Romans would have completely jeopardized his own hard-earned position at the Roman top table. If there were to be an agreement, it had to involve him. If not, he would lose his position and probably his life. His attack also gave him a chance to settle an old score against his rival. Just at the moment when there was a real chance of peace between Roman and Goth, he was utterly determined to torpedo it. Acting out of spite and revenge a Goth, not a Roman, finally scuttled any chance of negotiation.
When Honorius heard the news of the ambush, perhaps he felt that the whole sorry episode proved his old prejudice: no barbarian, not even a Romanized one such as Sarus, could ever be trusted. Heading south, having narrowly escaped with their lives, Alaric and Athaulf too were licking the wounds of a prejudice they believed had been painfully confirmed. Honorius, they thought, had proved to be the same cowardly embodiment of deceit he had always been. They had been betrayed one last fatal time. In the heat of a mid-August day in 410 the Goths’ leaders returned for the final time to Rome.