On the fourth morning the wind dropped, the sky cleared and a pale sun gleamed weakly between the feathery clouds. I put on my cloak and walked down to the river with Quintus. The bank was lined with soldiers watching the water. It was icy cold to the touch, but the water looked clear and there was no suggestion yet that it might freeze over. There were tribesmen on the far bank who had come out of camp and who stood in groups watching the water, like us. They waved in friendly fashion and our men waved back. Quintus said, “We shall get warning if it begins to harden. The commandant at Borbetomagus will send a message. They will notice it first.”
I said, “I know that. What I am worried about is if it continues to snow and the roads become blocked.”
That night the wind set up again. It had backed to the north-east now and in the night I awoke to hear it howling through the camp like the spirits of the unquiet dead. Just before dawn it began to snow and this time it fell heavily, blanketing the camp and blotting out our view of the river. I ordered double sentries to be posted, sent out cavalry patrols to break up the loose snow on the roads, and had every man hard at work with iron tipped spades, clearing the tracks and ditches. Messages came in from all the forts to say that the snow was thick on the roads, that some tracks were impassable but that the river was unaffected.
“What about the fleet?” asked Quintus.
“Well, what about it? It won’t be any use to us if this weather continues.”
“Do you want the ships to go back to Treverorum or to lie up at Confluentes?”
“Does it matter where they lie up?”
He said patiently, “We might need them in the spring.”
I looked at him and after a minute his eyes dropped to the map on the table before him.
“It’s really a question of where we can best use the men. We could do with their catapults.”
I said, “How much use would they be at breaking up the ice if it comes?”
He grinned. “Those experiments we were carrying out in the early autumn; you remember them.”
“Yes.”
“If it does not freeze too badly they would be of enormous help in breaking up the ice; but that sort of ice wouldn’t be thick enough to carry much weight anyway. If it freezes very hard, however, we shall probably lose the ships. They’ll get ice-bound.”
“It would be worth it.”
“Shall I arrange it then, along those lines?”
“Yes, you know my mind in these matters as well as your own.”
I rode out on a tour of inspection, first to Bingium where I had a long talk with the legionary commandant, and another with Scudilio, who would succeed him when I withdrew the cohort.
“Why did you lie?” I said.
“Your general has already asked me that question.”
“It is I who am asking it now.”
He said, “I did not think you would let me join you if you knew I came from the Alemanni. That is all.”
I looked at him.
He said nervously, “I have tried to be a good soldier. But if you would prefer it I will take the money that is owing to me and go. It would be better to leave than to stay and not be trusted.”
I said, “Keep your command. When the day comes that I do not trust you I will tell you so myself.”
From Bingium I went on to Boudobrigo, Salisio and Confluentes. The snow was dry still, powdered on the surface but loose underneath, so that marching was difficult and we travelled at half speed, but using twice the effort. I was nagged with worry because the defensive ditches around the camps were half full of snow that had drifted in with the wind. If we had sleet and the snow became wet it would solidify and provide a firm base on which to make a crossing. The ditches would then be rendered useless.
From Confluentes I rode back down the road to Treverorum, and passed a night at the signal tower by the junction where the roads forked. Here the auxiliaries were digging out the ditches that straddled the road, throwing the snow up into banks to provide extra protection. It was here that, if need be, I would make my last stand, and I spent half a day surveying the ground with care. It all looked different now. The branches of the trees were loaded with snow; hillocks, rough ground and tracks had all been blotted out, erased by a dazzle of smooth white in every direction as far as one could see. Only on the road and round the signal tower was the ground stamped hard, slippery and dangerous to walk upon. Beneath the surface of the snow the earth felt like rock. I was impressed by the care that the unit took of its responsibilities. Agilio, the post commander, was only a boy, blond haired, slow thinking but reliable. His post was kept absolutely clean and tidy, the men’s weapons were in excellent condition and they knew how to use them with efficiency. They obeyed his instructions promptly and each man had a ready grasp of his duties. In the afternoon the signal fires flared and smoke rose into the clear sky. I watched the dark balls rise at irregular intervals and then Agilio came up. “You are wanted back at Moguntiacum immediately, sir.”
“Thank you.” I leaned down from my horse and looked at his eager face. “Keep the ditches clear and pray that when you see me again it is not at the head of an army.”
He flashed a smile and saluted. I rode back hard, my escort behind me, spent the night at Bingium and reached my headquarters a little after dawn. I had been in the saddle for too long and I was exhausted.
Quintus gave a sigh of relief when he saw me. “Don’t go away again,” he said. “Next time you might not be able to get back.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to look at the river. You know more about these things than I do.”
Again we stood on the bank in our scarlet cloaks, legionaries about us, tribesmen on the opposite shore; each side looking at the other curiously. “You can see better from the broken bridge,” he said. “Come on.”
We stood on the bridge and I watched the swirling water, rippling coldly beneath my feet. The water still looked clean, but every now and again a patch of water seemed to take on a dark, oily look as though grease were floating on the surface like scum. Quintus began to shiver. “It is cold,” he said. He looked at my face and said quickly, “What is it, Maximus?”
I said, “I don’t know. I am going to stay here and watch. Send a man out with food and some hot wine. I am cold too.”
A soldier brought a charcoal brazier and I warmed my hands and drank the wine and watched the water. The tribesmen were watching it intently too and it was obvious that they were excited and pleased. The patches of oily sludge increased so that the river seemed to darken slowly even as one watched it. A messenger came to say that Goar had crossed the river and was awaiting me in the camp; a second messenger came to report that the centurion on island duty had recognised the enemy war chiefs on the far bank. Hermeric, Gunderic, Respendial and Sunno were there, like me, waiting also. Presently Quintus, who could not stand the cold, came back. “Well?” he asked. He sounded as a gladiator sounds when he asks the order of the fights in which he is to take part.
I said carefully, “This, Quintus, is what a river looks like when it begins to freeze.”
We walked back to the camp and there, in her red dress and black, fur lined cloak, waiting for us outside the gate, stood Rando’s daughter, a smile upon her face. Beside her was Fabianus. “Are you happy?” she mocked. “I am. This is what my people have waited for all this time: ice and snow.”
I said, “You really hate us, don’t you? What have we done to harm you and your kind?”
“You made me a prisoner,” she said bitterly. “A prisoner and a slave. Is that not enough?”