The Songs of Slaves (67 page)

             
One of the
boys he employed was prodding
a recalcitrant sheep, trying to push it back to the rest of the herd. Mannus turned towards the sound. It was then that he saw Grania walking up the hill towards him. Mannus smiled honestly this time. His wife was carrying a basket, probably lunch for them and the two boys. The sunbeams that escaped from the dense clouds lighted on her golden hair and white face, the way that he always thought of her. But now, instead of the wispy girl that ran through the woods, Grania moved with the weight of their soon- to-be born child. It would be their first. If it was a son, Mannus knew what he would name him.

             
Grania smiled as she caught her husband staring at her. She swung the basket playfully, struggling up the steep grade of green turf. She said nothing as she joined him, but laid her head on his shoulder. Mannus put his free arm around her and squeezed, breathing in the scent of her hair as it mixed with the salt smell of the sea.

             
“Why have you come up all this way?” Grania said.

             
“I just followed my thoughts,” Mannus said. “The walk will do me good.”

             
Grania smiled again, and was about to say something else when something out in the water below caught her eye. Mannus did not immediately follow her gaze, but then saw her mouth open as if in wonder. His heart jumped a beat, and his lungs seized a breath of fear. But the newly-built watch tower had not sounded. If there was anything wrong would not the fishermen below have called the alarm?

             
Mannus followed Grania’s pointing finger. A
curragh
bobbed in the waves, tracing its way around the coast. Mannus may have seen it before but not noticed it, not differentiated it from any of the fishing boats that were still adrift this time of morning. But now that it was closer, Mannus could see what had amazed Grania. His breath quickened. His mind told him to discard the idea, not to hope. But as he looked down at the two figures in the dark wooden boat he was sure that he recognized the windblown red hair of the woman and the frame and air of the man at the oars.

             
“My God,” Mannus whispered. 

Appendix

Historical Afterward

The
Fall
of Rome

             
Sir Edward Gibbon wrote in his masterwork
The Decline and
Fall
of the Roman Empire
“the question should not be why did Rome fall, but why in fact did it last so long.” Indeed, considering how vast its territory, how impossibly long its borders, how many centuries upon centuries it endured, and the magnitude of its influence even to our day, Rome could be said to have no peer (save perhaps China) in recorded history. And yet fall it inevitably did. The proposed reasons for this demise are many and varied, ranging from the well-documented and widely established to the far-fetched theories of the nominally informed. Gibbon asserted that the influence of the Roman Army was much to blame for the Empire’s
errosion
. Saint Augustine wrote his famous treatise
The City of God
to counter a popular opinion amongst Fifth Century Romans themselves that the Christian Church and abandonment of the old gods were the reasons for such defeat. Christian historians take the opposite view, seeing the collapse as divine judgment for the persecution of the Church (ignoring the fact that by the time the fall came the Church had
cultural control for about a hundred and fifty years). In our time the most popular opinion by far seems to be the idea that Rome fell because of its corruption and decadence. Sensational as the image of the Romans reclining at feast and reveling in orgies may be, it bears mentioning that by the time Rome fell apart gladiatorial combat was already illegal and emperors were more interested in building basilicas then in entering into the legendary immoderations of Caligula and Commodus. Then of course, there are smaller theories, such as widespread lead poisoning from drinking water or the invincibility of the Hunnic war machine – anyone with a tenure review approaching or simply the need to dominate a sophomoric discussion may generate one of these. Closer investigation will reveal that such a complicated series of events has no one cause, but rather arises from an intricate interplay of diverse factors – not least of all population growth, the economy, and weather.

             
I have undertaken in this book to not so much describe why Rome fell, but rather to show the mechanism by which it fell. This mechanism can be summed up in one long sentence: A people who have lost their intellectual, economic, and martial vigor,
living in a vast territory with resources that have been spread too thin, and ruled by exceptionally poor leaders all in conflict with each other, were acted upon by other peoples who had experienced population explosion followed by displacement. This was the crisis of the Fourth and Fifth Centuries that led to the eventual demise of the Western Empire.

             
Was this crisis survivable? This period is referred to as the Age of Migrations, and it was the pressure of these migrations that caused Western Rome to fold. As I have endeavored to show, however, the Germani – despite their aggression – were not seeking the end of Rome, but rather to find their place within its wealth and sophistication. Had the Roman leaders of this period been more able and less self-absorbed,
perhaps
the West could have found a way through, as the East did (surviving for another thousand years). But it seemed that what few capable leaders the West had, like Stilicho and Constantine III, it was intent on murdering; while men of low account, limited intellect, and corrupt character, like Honorius, Olympius, and Heraclian dominated the stage. Emperor Honorius survived no less than eight usurpers and died early but
quietly, leaving not enough for historians to write even one complimentary line about him. 

             
It is important to note, however, that the popular impression that the Roman Empire collapsed in some singular event is completely misguided. This idea really has more to do with our dependence on romantic storytelling then it does with history. In this novel I have tried to portray the true events that counter the notion that Rome was somehow surrounded by the armies of darkness and then finally choked out in one last great battle. In actual fact there have been numerous sacks of Rome. The first was all the way back in 390 B.C. by the Gauls, and did more to cement Rome’s military resolve and strengthen its weaknesses than to destroy it. The next was the 410 sack by Alaric, as described in this book. It was again sacked in 455 by Vandals, then again in 546 by Ostrogoths during Constantinople’s attempts to reclaim the West. In 846 the Moors looted the outer city, but did not risk the walls. In 1084 Rome suffered the most brutal and destructive assault in its history by the infamous Norman, Robert Guiscard, who unleashed unparalleled fire and bloodshed all under the pretext of protecting Rome’s own Pope from imagined peril. Finally, 1527
saw another conquering army pour out a full measure of murder, thievery, and destruction. Of all of these sacks, Alaric’s entry into the city in 410 was probably the least destructive and showed the most merciful restraint to the populace. Of course, there was murder and atrocity, theft and demolishment, and many Romans themselves were dragged away to be sold as slaves or ransomed to those who had mercy and means; but all primary sources agree that with Alaric’s strict commands to spare churches and those taking sanctuary and to curb violence against these people who had so recently been his allies that much of the usual loss of life and degradation was averted. Despite this, it is the 410 sack that so many people over the centuries, educated and uneducated alike, have equated with the fall of the mighty Roman Empire. This can only be because of the tremendous psychological impact that this event had on the people of the Empire and on its legacy. It was the end of their invincibility. The birthplace of the Empire was no longer sacrosanct. Though an entire lifetime would pass before the barbarian
Oadacer
would depose the last Roman Emperor in the West (a twelve-year-old, ironically named Romulus like the City’s legendary founder) in 476, the events of 410 made everyone see
that their world could in fact end. This revelation also hastened the disintegration of the Empire, as Romans and barbarians alike began to look past the breached construct of the Empire and to make their own way ahead in the kingdoms that were to become Dark Age Europe. 

Historicity
and Inference

             
The use of history in fiction can be grouped into three broad categories. The most frequently encountered is the use of a historical backdrop without regard to the actual history itself. If we are reading a paperback romance novel or watching a movie about pirates this does not matter much. But when this is portrayed as real history it becomes a problem, especially because it robs the audience of any lesson they might gain and may even introduce beliefs which are completely false. The injury is made even worse when historical persons are portrayed without regard to any evidence of their true natures. The second type of historical fiction is one which sticks to the basics of known historical fact, but is not afraid to streamline, compress, or even lie in the name of dramatic clarity
and expedience provided that it sticks to the spirit of the events. The third type is that which takes the research seriously and attempts to st
ay as faithful to what we know
as possible. I have taken great pains to stay within this third category. I have read everything that I could find, travelled to locations, stuck to timelines (even when rather inconvenient) and attempted to portray characters and ev
ents as true to form as I could
.

             
Alaric, Ataulf, Valia (often spelled
Wallia
), and Sarus are all real figures, and I have done my best to portray them as the evidence suggests. Sarus did lead a successful campaign against Constantine III in Gaul, only to abandon the chase at a stalemate for unknown reasons. There is no mention in the record (that I am aware of) of Valia being with him, nor anywhere else; but as the young warlord would have been active at this time, I feel it is plausible. Sarus did cross the Alps late in 409, losing his plunder to the
bacaudae
that lived there. Sarus did have sons who fought alongside him, but the character of Arastan is my invention. History records the effects of a serious feud of unknown etiology between Sarus and the Balti Dynasty (that is to say, Alaric, Ataulf, et cetera) such that he would attack his fellow Visigoths despite his inferior numbers even
on the eve of their peace, and go on to do everything in his power to stop Ataulf, especially. The character Gaiseric is fictitious and should not be confused with the great Vandal king Gaeseric. Characters mentioned in passing, especially in the several summation dialogues throughout the book are also usually real characters, and the events mentioned in these passages are true history. The well-read reader may also pick up on occasional turns of a phrase which are meant as homages to Procopius,
Jordanes
, Gibbon, Burry, and other great historians of the period. 

             
Of course, the purpose of a historical novel is not to just write history, but rather to go with the reader on a journey into that reality. As such, this novel presented several challenges. Dramatic as this period was, for various reasons it has been under-represented in the written record. Much of the flesh and blood of the Fifth Century must be completely reconstructed. To do this, I did not just draw upon everything I could infer from the record; but also what I have seen in my travels, could apply from my understanding of sociology, psychology, even physiology and nutrition, as well as my own life experience (which luckily
includes plenty of fighting, toiling for almost no pay, and working in vineyards).

One of the biggest areas where I had to apply a multidisciplinary approach was in the area of the experience of the slave. One in every four persons in the Roman World was a slave. Slaves are the men and women who built Stonehenge, the Pyramids, and the empires of the ancient world. Yet even many contemporary writers completely dismiss them as inconsequential, even beneath our notice. As I explored this overlooked aspect of the human experience, I was struck by the sense that there had to be more to it than what we have so long supposed – men and women who did what they did only out of fear and external compulsion. With so many slaves, many of whom were integrally and intimately woven into the deepest parts of society, there had to be more than just the whip and the cross keeping them from just simply walking away. So in this book I have set out especially to portray these people’s lives as I am convinced they were, with all of its terror and brutality, but with all of its nobility and occasional glimmers of happiness. 

             
Because it is such a strong component of the plot, it may be worth mentioning here that the idea of a “lifter” is my own inference. Obviously, for the hardest work, people used animals. For work in which animals are not suited, four ordinary slaves may be able to move a rock as well as two really big slaves. However, if you have ever had to move out of your house or worked in manual labor you know that there are situations in which having an especially strong person can make a difference. This may have been even
more true
in the Classical world, where the average person was much smaller than they are today. We do know that slaves were sold differently if they had specialization or special attributes – for their beauty, their ability to scribe, their learning, their gladiatorial prowess, or specific area of expertise. It seems reasonable to me to expect that a large, strong person who had the nutritional super-advantage of growing up where there were resources beyond bread and wine, would be especially valued. Likewise, the concept of the “lifter’s gift” reflects the idea that a wise master would understand to what he owed his slave’s ability. The economics of the time support these ideas, as barbarian lands far away from cities were always relished sources
of new slave labor, despite the readily available supply of those born into slavery or reduced to it through penury
, child abandonment, or as legal punishments
.