So, even with the hordes of Attila riding down on them, these untrained youths reconstructed that gleaming wonder of white marble and gold, just as it had been. The four vast bronze elephants were raised up again, one of them repaired in a nearby forge, and set atop the gateway. Even more inspiringly, the two winged victories were set up again in their proper place, a little battered but facing boldly out over the surrounding plains, wings outstretched. Hundreds of people took it in turns to work at a furious rate and then to rest, and by nightfall the gate was more or less as it had been before the earthquake struck. There was huge rejoicing among the Greens at their feat, their spirits soared, and they danced and sang hymns and psalms of praise spontaneously in the streets below. Rumour of the achievement reached the ears of the Blues, whose work-rate redoubled in envious emulation.
It was Prince Theodoric who first made the observation to Aetius, regarding God and his mysterious ways. Aetius nodded, at last almost allowing himself a smile. When the Huns attacked, the Walls would not be as they had been. But they might just be enough. Aside from that, the achievement of the people of the city had put more spirit into them than they ever had before. Action makes men brave, inaction makes them timid. The earthquake might have damaged the walls, but perhaps it had been a blessing in disguise: a very heavy disguise. It had fired the citizens with a peculiar new ardour. Now they waited for the fight to begin with the eagerness of that hot-blooded Captain Andronicus. Aetius felt for the first time that he and his few troops did not stand alone. They had a million people behind them. It was a good feeling.
At last, at the end of that Sunday night, the Blues and the Greens came together at the St Romanus Gate, and there was no enmity left between them. They had achieved wonders together; besides, they were too exhausted for enmity. They embraced like brothers, and then sat in the dust, sweat-stained, coughing and aching, plastered ochre with stone and brickdust, and with barely the energy remaining to eat and drink. Then their beloved Patriarch Epiphanius came out to them, and preached to them from the Book of Ezekiel, having instructed that the same text be preached in every church and in every public place throughout the city.
He preached upon Gog and Magog, the demons in Ezekiel’s vision, who came from the north, and he said this time was come, and Gog and Magog were upon them. But the Lord of Hosts would not forsake his people Israel. ‘“And thou, Gog and Magog, shalt come from thy place in the North, thou and many people with thee, all of them riding upon horses, a great company, and a mighty army; And thou shalt come up against my people Israel as a cloud to cover the land; and it shall be in the Latter Days, and I will bring thee against my land, that the heathen may know me, when I shall be sanctified in thee, O Gog, before their eyes. And against my people, thou shalt not prevail.
‘“Though the mountains shall be thrown down, and the steep places shall fall, and every wall shall fall to the ground; yet I will call for a sword against the Prince of the North throughout all my mountains, saith the Lord God. Every man’s sword shall be against him, and I shall plead against him with pestilence and with blood, and I will rain upon him, and upon his bands, and upon the many people that are with him.
““For behold I am against thee, O Gog, the chief prince of Meshech and Tubal. And I will turn thee back, and leave but the sixth part of thee. And I will smite thy bow out of thy left hand, and thine arrows from thy right. Thou shalt fall upon the open field, saith the Lord God: for I have spoken it.”’
At these words a great shout went up from people: ‘ The Lord of Hosts is with us! ’ and Prince Torismond said he felt as if he was living in the time of Joshua and Gideon and David and the mighty men of old.
18
Aetius moved swiftly with his new and unexpected civilian army. He divided them into citizen companies, and immediately an esprit de corps seemed to spring up within each of them. He appointed half of them to man the Walls, and the rest as reservists at four stations behind, ready to fill any gaps at short notice. Their missiles were stones and rubble, their weapons any iron tool they could lay their hands on – spade, hoe or pruning hook – but their expressions were soldierly and grim.
‘This will be a crude fight,’ Aetius told them. ‘But that’s fine, since you will be crude fighters.’ They gave a great, self-laudatory cheer. ‘You will be up on the Inner Wall. The two lower walls before you will be undefended, and the savages will come pouring over them like a tide. How will you react? I’ll tell you how you’ll react: you will empty your bowels at the sight.
‘Then there will be a man climbing up the wall to reach you and kill you. He will have a shield on his back, a spear, a sword and a dagger, and he will have killed many, many men before you. He will have their flensed skulls decorating his horse, and he will mean to have yours likewise. There will be constant arrow-fire coming in from his comrades beyond, and they are perhaps the finest archers in the world. But you will be standing above him, behind strong stone battlements, some of which you have built with your own bare hands.’ Another cheer, a little more sober than before. ‘You are protected by the wall. He is not. You must kill him. Strike once and once only. Beat him back, dash him down, brain him with your first, measured blow. Then duck back for cover. The Palatine Guard will be among you, and you will obey their every order. You need no more training. Now go to your stations and do your duty.’
Then suddenly this least martial of cities, this religiose New Rome with its ceaseless liturgies and tangled theological debates about the true nature of the Tri-une Christ, was an excited hubbub of brazen trumpets and marching hobnailed boots. Theodoric said the Byzantines were turning into Spartans. It was an extraordinary feat, and no one seemed to know who was responsible.
Tatullus said to blame it on the earthquake.
Aetius said to blame it on the power that made the earthquake.
Around mid-morning, news spread that the outriders had come in. The Huns had been seen: they were no more than ten miles off. Eyes strained over the battlements, sweaty hands gripped shears and pruning hooks, shaking hands struggled to place a last few loose rocks on top of the jagged walls. There was no more excited cheering.
A wild-eyed holy man began another sermon, declaiming to the women and children gathered in the great square around the Church of the Holy Apostles. The text was from Deuteronomy: ‘“The Lord shall bring a nation against thee from the ends of the earth. They shall be as swift as eagles, a nation whose tongue thou shalt not understand. A nation of fierce countenance, they shall besiege thee in all thy high gates, until thy mighty walls come crashing down wherein thou trustedst. And thou shalt eat the fruit of thine own body, and the flesh of thy sons and thy daughters which the Lord thy God hath given thee, in the siege and in the straitness wherewith thine enemies shall distress thee.”’
It was an ill-chosen text and, somewhat to the preacher’s surprise, the people promptly turned on him. Only a few days before they might have listened, and wailed, and crossed themselves, but now a woman whacked the ill-advised doomsayer about the head with the flat of her washing-paddle, and he fled howling into an alley, pursued by an angry mob who soon caught up with him and gave him a sound drubbing. Among their number, rumour had it, there was even a black-cassocked deacon or two, putting in a sandalled kick.
Night fell again on the lonely, resolute city. Some still worked on, trying to build up the walls as best they could, but the masons all agreed they were as solid as they could be made in this short time. Only after darkness cloaked the land did they see from their walls and towers the numberless fires that burned out there in the desolate countryside. The last farmsteads, a few isolated chapels, hayricks and barns, put to the torch by men on shaggy ponies, their reins and saddle-straps decorated with scalps and skulls and severed hands.