The wine of Calleva Atrebatum was indeed very fine and perhaps a little stronger than the men from Hibernia were used to. But Túathal kept an eye on his men and they retired to their quarters when the noise level amongst them started to rise a little too high. The Hibernian prince nodded at Cato, who smiled back, and then they were gone.
“An exuberant people,” said a voice to one side and he turned slightly. “I quite like them though. They remind me of the Batavi. Enthusiastic. Dangerous too.” The speaker was a tall, lean man dressed in black and with a wry smile.
“Silenus. Aemilianus mentioned you earlier. I did not know that you were back.”
The other man grimaced. “A curtailed trip. Let us say that the Gauls are worried and used me as a messenger. Which means that someone else will have to go to the Batavi and find out what they’re doing.”
Cato took a sip of wine, leant back and stared at him. “What are you exactly again?”
This bought him a grin. “Why I’m just a humble trader. Who plies his wares amongst our neighbours. I’ve told you that before.”
“So you’re a trader. And a priest.”
“Oh that – yes, I spread the word of God to the unenlightened as I travel as well.”
“A trader-priest. Who is also used as a confidential messenger.”
Silenus’s eyes twinkled. “I like to help out when asked.”
“And who gets asked to find out what our neighbours are up to.”
The other man looked solemn for a moment. “Is it a crime to be observant?”
Cato took another sip of wine and then groaned quietly. “I must be getting old. A trader-priest-spy?”
Silenus grinned again. “At last! But obviously please keep it to yourself.”
“Keep what to myself?”
“You’re a fast learner my friend. A fast learner.”
There was a companionable silence as they both sipped their wine. Then Cato frowned slightly. “Aemilianus mentioned that you had a tale about a village in a forest in Magna Germania that haunted him.”
“Ah,” Silenus said, pulling a slight face, “That. Yes, to tell the truth it haunts me too. I was in Magna Germania, trying to see through the haze of chaos there. No-one ever knows what’s going on there in terms of the shifting coalition of power there. The Franks lead one day, the Goths lead the day after that, or so at least it feels. Here and there the old tribes flicker. The Burgundii. The Alemanni. It’s never stable. I don’t think that the Gauls want it to be stable either, which is dangerous. Did you hear about the forts they’re building?”
“I heard.”
“They want the high ground on the far bank of the Rhenus. They want to stop the occasional raid over the river. I’m not sure how sensible that policy is, but that’s what they’re working on. Anyway – it was about three years ago. I was in Colonia Agrippinensium on a trade trip – just trade I assure you – when I heard that there was a delegation of Goths coming. I rode out to meet them and to talk about the situation to the North-East. Well, in passing one of them mentioned that old tale of there still being an intact memorial to the Army of Varus somewhere in the forest to the East. I’d heard the tale before, but this time it came with directions, so I let my curiosity get the better of me.
“At first I thought that it was a tale from the market – all hot air – but then we discovered an old road that looked like one of the old Roman military roads. It was myself and three guards, the latter being led by an old veteran of the frontier called Marcus Arcadius, who despite his name had more than a dash of blood from Germania. The road was heavily overgrown in places, with trees all over the place and at one point I think we lost it, because the road suddenly became a track, which then became a path and then a trail. When it started to peter out completely I was ready to turn around and head back West.
“And then Arcadius sniffed the air and told me that there was a settlement of some kind nearby. He could smell people and goats he said. This curious streak I have made me seek them out. They were… a frightened group living in a village in a clearing. No more than about a hundred people. Lots of goats. A lot of stench as well – when we got back to Colonia Agrippinensium we all headed to the baths, just in case.
“They were terrified of us at first. And I didn’t have the faintest idea which language they were speaking. Not Frankish, or Gothic, or Suebi, or anything. And then Arcadius said a few words in a language that I’d never heard of before – and they all relaxed a bit. He told me later that he had learnt a few words from his grandfather. He kept talking and they kept staring at our horses. It was all… very odd. And then I talked to Arcadius, who told me that they spoke the language of the Hunnoi. Which stunned me.”
Cato stared at him. “They were Hunnoi?”
“Apparently their forefathers were fleeing their enemies when they encountered a man dressed in fine armour, on a great horse, who was some kind of noble. He led them into the forest, told them to stay there and then rode off, saying that he would return. He never did. And so that particular small remnant of a people who had ridden across the world and who had destroyed the kingdom of the Goths and who had only been defeated by the combined efforts of Gaul, Rome and Britannia, ended up in the arse-end of a forest, surrounded by goats.”
A long silence fell, punctuated by the sound of someone singing outside for a moment. “A sad tale,” Cato said quietly. “And I think I know why Aemilianus was depressed by your tale. So the Hunnoi are…”
“Scattered. Broken. Lost. I went back there a year later. The clearing was empty. The village was gone. They must have left not long after we were there.” Silenus smiled bleakly at him. “So I suspect that is exactly why Aemilianus was so disturbed by the whole tale. A people can be strong one day – and a scattered rabble another day.”
Cato thought about this and then drained the last of his wine. “Well that’s depressing.”
“Sadly much of life is,” Silenus said grimly. “Ah well. I will be off to see what the Batavii are up to soon. And you? Back to Deva?”
“Eboracum.”
“Lucky man. A great and growing city.”
Cato smiled politely and then made his apologies and left for his quarters. He had a great deal of thinking to do.
