alternatehistory.com

"When the armies of the Sassanid Shahs conquered into Asia Minor, into Greece and Thrace and Dacia, to the waters of the Danube, in the chaos that followed the fall of Rome and the cursed empire of the Huns and their vassals turned rivals like the Goths and Allemani and Vandals, they brought the teachings of Zarathustra. The Magi that came among the new satrapies found ruined and sacked cities and starving people roaming aimlessly, murdering one another for grain in the wake of the barbarians gone to the Hun warlord's camp in the embers of Rome. Most held the household gods of the doomed Romans and Greeks or barbarian Germanic and Hunnic gods. Some more privileged were among mystery cults that revered Mithras, a common point between our nations, or Apollonius of Tyana. Bringing them to Zarathustra was hard. Some asked 'What strength has Ahura Mazda's fires if more of Attila's Huns come and snuff them?' 'Light is eternal. If one flame is extinguished, Ahura Mazda will light another against the dark."

-
Magi records in Istafan



I am a philosopher. So I'm told. I was a boy when Rome was sacked by Attila and the last Emperor slain and Honoria became his trophy concubine, one of many. But I was taught by scholars and I know enough of Plato, Aristotle, Galen and Heron of Alexandria to be considered a philosopher now that I am grown to be a man among the squabbling Hun hordes and their Germanic foederati that scavenge as birds of carrion atop the rotting corpse of Rome. I came from Sicily as a boy, but I know not what became of the isle of my birth in these dark times.

There is little use for philosophers. Or Latins at all. I am more use and better paid as a blacksmith in a small camp turned village of Latin survivors near the ruins of Ravenna. I smelt iron to make swords. I suppose my knowledge from works I was taught comes of some use, for I am told my swords are better than the crude broadswords the Gepids under Ardaric that took residence in what was once Ravenna brought.

It was dawn when a man I recognized to be the Gepid king and his son came, alone, with no guards as I started the furnace.

"Can you make a sword as strong as the Sword of Mars the Hun wields?"

"Probably not."

"You speak our tongue."

"Yes. May as well be practical."

"Most leftover Romans are too haughty."

"Nothing to be haughty about now."

"No. But you make good strong swords. My warriors say."

"I suppose. I was a scholar as a boy."

"How much for that sword there?"

"Whatever you'll pay. I don't risk my head bargaining with you."

He pulled some gold out. I was happy for that. Some tried to pay in Roman coins still, but raw gold was more to be trusted.

"I don't want my son to be the Hun's slave, his jester or fool. We made cause with him because your ancestors wouldn't give us good land and the Huns were strong, but they give us grief now. Come with me. You will be my son's teacher. You will teach him what Romans knew to build your haunted cities we sacked."

Futuo!

=======================================================

The Gepid king took me to a wooden shack near his camp. The Germanic barbarians thought Roman cities were haunted so usually avoided the ruins they had helped Attila make. They looted them for luxuries and servants, but they didn't seem to want to live in what was left. The Huns had almost annihilated Rome and Ravenna and had greatly weakened Byzantium, though that city was now among the Persians.

"This is the new philosophical school where you will teach my son."

It looked more like a pig sty than the Library of Alexandra or the Academy of Athens. But not wanting a broadsword to the neck, I played along.

"Thank you, King Ardaric. I shall see to it the prince is well educated."

I walked in with the boy, perhaps 16, stout and grim faced.

He punched me in the gut as soon as his father left.

"Roman ass. I should be out hacking the other warriors so they know their place when I come to rule the tribe."

I hit him back, and shook from fear of it, but its the only thing they understand.

"Cleverness will kill faster and quicker than any sword, boy. Besides, your real enemy won't be them. They've no royal blood or what passes for it among your kind. Attila is long in the tooth now and Honoria killed herself without bearing him an heir, so Ellak will take power. Your father says he wants to challenge the Hun, so that will fall to you."

He stared at me.

"You are right."

"Now...we'll start with learning numerals and letters."

==================================================

"So, in Plato's story of Atlantis, the gods became angry and sank the isle beneath the sea."

"Our gods, Odin and Thor and their like, would reward warriors dignity, not punish it. We Gepids are proud and good at war. Germanic gods favor this. Are Plato's gods the same as the Romans? The Greeks live somewhere else."

"Yes, for the most part. Some differences, but the Roman and Greek gods are considered the same. Hubris, too much pride, angers them. When our leaders took power, someone would whisper to them 'memento mori" remember, you are mortal, to keep them from this...before your father's men and the Huns and Geiseric's Vandals slew them all, that is."

"Roman gods are weak. Strange my father seethes with such envy over Attila's Sword of Mars."

"Roman knowledge is not weak."

"Do you revere the Roman gods?"

"No...they failed, obviously."

=================================================

I taught the boy a while longer. When his father died, and Attila the Hun died not long after, he summoned me.

"I need an advisor, a soothsayer. You would do well."

"You will revolt against Ellak the Hun as your father tasked you?"

"Yes."

==================================================

So that summer, I stood upon one of the Seven Hills, watching like a proud father as the Gepid king lead his warriors into battle against the Huns of Ellak.

Blood stained the fields, arrows blotted the sun. Ellak held the line and the Gepids retreated, but they were not all killed.

My protege lived too, and so might some Roman learning in a man who could do something with it.

Perhaps some day, these dark times would lift.
Top