If the Scythian was a social disappointment, Papak was a success, as Athalaric had sourly expected. Bringing a whiff of the exotic, the Persian moved smoothly among Theodoric’s guests, barbarian and citizen alike. He flirted outrageously with the women, and captivated the men with his tales of the peculiar dangers of the east. Everyone was charmed.
One of Papak’s most popular innovations was chess. This was a game, he said, recently invented to amuse the court of Persia. Nobody in Gaul had heard of it, and Papak had one of Theodoric’s craftsman carve a board and pieces for him. The game was played on a six-by-six grid of squares, over which pieces shaped like horses or warriors moved and battled. The rules were simple, but the strategy was deceptively deep. The Goths — who still prided themselves on their warrior credentials, even though many of them had not been near a horse in twenty years — relished the sublimated combat of the new game. Their first tournaments were fast and bloody affairs. But under Papak’s tactful tutelage, the better players soon grasped the game’s subtleties, and the matches became drawn out and interesting.
As for Honorius himself, he was irritated that the parlor games of a Persian were so much more compelling than his tales of old bones. But then, Athalaric thought with exasperated fondness, the old man never had been much of a one for social niceties, and still less for the intricacies of court life. Honorius insisted on sticking to his usual games of backgammon, played with his cronies from the old landed aristocracy — “the game of Plato,” as he called it.
After a few days of the stay, Theodoric called his nephew into a private room.
Athalaric was surprised to find Galla here. Tall, dark-haired, with the classical prominent nose of her Roman forebears, Galla was the wife of one of the more prominent citizens of the community. But at forty she was some twenty years younger than her husband, and it was well known that she was the power in his household.
A grave expression on his bearded face, Theodoric placed his hand on his nephew’s arm. “Athalaric, we need your help.”
“You have a job for me?”
“Not exactly. We have a job for Honorius — and we want you to persuade him to take it. Let us try to explain why—”
As Theodoric talked, Athalaric was aware of Galla’s cool eyes appraising him, the slight opening of her full mouth. There was a myth among some of these last Romans that the barbarians were a younger, more vigorous race. Galla, in exploring intimacy with men she saw as little better than savages, might be seeking a muscular excitement she must lack in her own marriage to an etiolated citizen.
But Athalaric, a mere five years older than Galla’s own twin children, had no desire to be the toy of a decadent aristocrat. He returned her gaze coolly, his face impassive.
This subtle transaction was played out completely beneath the attention of Theodoric.
Now Galla said smoothly, “Athalaric, a mere three decades ago, as even I can remember, this kingdom of Euric’s was still a federate settlement within the empire. Things have changed rapidly. But there are strict barriers between our peoples. Marriage, the law, even the Church—”
Theodoric sighed. “She is right, Athalaric. There are many tensions in this young society of ours.”
Athalaric knew this was true. The new barbarian rulers lived by their traditional laws, which they saw as part of their identity, while their subjects clung to Roman law, which for their part they saw as a set of universal rules. Disputes over differing rulings made under the two systems were common. Meanwhile, intermarriage was forbidden. Though all parties were Christian, the Goths followed the teachings of Arius and were met with hostility by their mostly Catholic subjects. And so on.
All of this was a barrier to the assimilation the imperial Romans had practiced so successfully for so many centuries — an assimilation that had led to stability and social longevity. If this place were still under Roman rule, then Theodoric would have had an excellent chance of becoming a full Roman citizen. But the sons of Galla were forever excluded from being accepted as equals by the Goths, forever denied true power.
Athalaric listened gravely to all of this. “It is difficult, but Honorius has taught me nothing if not that time is long, and that in time everything changes. Perhaps these barriers will ultimately melt away.”
Theodoric nodded. “I myself believe it is so. I sent you to study in a Roman school, and later with Honorius.” He chuckled. “My father would never have allowed such a thing. He didn’t believe in schools! If you learn to fear a teacher’s strap now, you will never learn to look on a sword or javelin without a shudder. To him, we were warriors before anything else. But we, these days, are a different generation.”
“And the better for it,” said Galla. “The empire will never come back. But I truly believe that some day, out of the union of our peoples here and across the continent, new blood will arise, new kinds of strength and vision.”
Athalaric raised his eyebrows. Something in her tone reminded him unfortunately of Papak, and he wondered what she was trying to sell his uncle. He said dryly, “But in the meantime, before that marvelous day comes to pass—”
“In the meantime I am concerned for my children.”
“Why? Are they in peril?”
“In fact, yes,” Galla said, letting her irritation show. “You have been away too long, young man, or else you have your head too firmly buried in Honorius’s teachings.”
“There have been attacks,” Theodoric said. “Property damage, fires, thefts.”
“Directed against the Romans?”
“I am afraid so.” Theodoric sighed. “I, who remember how it was, would like to preserve what was best about the empire — stability, peace, learning, a just system of law. But the young know nothing of this. Like their forefathers who lived simpler lives on the northern plains, they hate what they know of the empire: power over the land, the people, riches from which they were excluded.”
“And so they wish to punish those who remain,” said Athalaric.
Galla said, “Why they behave as they do scarcely matters. What is important is what must be done to stop them.”
“I have raised militia. The disturbances can be quelled, but they erupt again elsewhere. What we need is a solution for the long term. We must restore the balance.” Theodoric smiled. “It is a paradox that I should come to believe it is necessary to make our Romans strong again.”
Athalaric snorted. “How? Give them a legion? Raise Augustus from the dead?”
“Simpler than that,” Galla said, unmoved by his mockery. “We must have a bishop.”
Now Athalaric began to understand.
Galla said, “Remember, it was Pope Leo who persuaded Attila himself to turn back from the gates of Rome—”
“So that’s why I’m here. You want Honorius to become a bishop. And you want me to persuade him to do it.”
Theodoric nodded, pleased. “Galla, I told you the boy is perspicacious.”
Athalaric shook his head. “He will refuse. Honorius is not — worldly. He is interested in his old bones, not in power.”
Theodoric sighed. “But there is a shortage of candidates, Athalaric. Forgive me, madam, but too many of the Roman gentry have proved themselves fools — arrogant, greedy, overbearing.”
“My husband among them,” Galla said evenly. “There is no offense to be given by the truth, my lord.”
Theodoric said, “It is only Honorius who commands true respect — perhaps because of his lack of worldliness.” He eyed Athalaric. “If it had not been so I would never have been able to release you to his tutelage.”