Antoninu Neves strode purposefully toward the half-rebuilt battlements, explaining to those who followed him, "This snow will protect us for two months more, or so I guess. The Huns will not attack through these deep drifts, in the unlikely event they could get through the passes; it would be a waste of horses and men; if they got here, they could only wallow in the snow - they couldn't fight. There are farmsteads and villages farther down the mountains where they will strike first, so we will have a little warning of their presence. We will need to keep watch day and night. I have posted four of my men on the peaks around this valley, so that they can report any activity. I would like to send out a hunting party, but only if the weather holds clear, and they can reach one of the meadows down the eastern slope." He waved his arm, indicating the brilliant blue of the sky and the stark whiteness of the mountains. "The trees will have to shed the snow on their branches before anything can be seen in the forest. Logging and hunting in the forest is impracticable with so much snow." His vigor was contagious, and the four men with him took it in eagerly.

Priam Corydon, usually more careful in his manner, looked behind him to the others who accompanied him and Neves. "When the outer wall is finished, we will rebuild the gates, so that they will be as strong as our other fortifications. That will improve our protection and give us power over anyone who enters." Much as he disliked the notion of a fortified monastery, he saw the sense of it. Sanctu-Eustachios had been enclosed since before it became a monastery, when it was a stop-over compound for travelers, and before, when it had been a place of pagan worship. The foundations on which the current walls stood were ancient. "The warder-monks can keep the gates. You need not deploy your soldiers to the task."

"You will want to put a watch-tower at the gates when they're rebuilt." Rotlandus Bernardius nodded authoritatively. "A pity that work on the outer wall must be delayed. But no one can be expected to work in this snow." He glanced over his shoulder. "What do you think, Brevios?"

Enlitus Brevios coughed once. "My men will not be able to build in the snow, though they will as soon as the thaw comes. It would be as dangerous for them to attempt to work while freezing as it would be for anyone else." He stared down the mountain. "The Huns won't attack until the thaw."

At the rear of the line, Denerac of Tsapousso tromped doggedly in the uneven rift their passage made in the snow. Of all the men here, he was the least inclined to build defenses. He had already suggested that as soon as the thaw began, they should evacuate the monastery, leaving in small groups, heading south into Roman or Byzantine territory and the protection that could be found there. Better than most of them, he knew what Huns could do; he did not want his people to experience their ferocity again. He kept his mouth shut; he was being ignored and for now he was glad of it. "Today and tomorrow," Brevios announced, "the Watchmen of Apulum Inferior will work at repairing the south wall of the Pilgrim's Hall, and come evening tomorrow, we can all gather there to inform our people of how things stand."

"It will have to be a little earlier than evening," Priam Corydon said. "Let's settle on the last quarter of the afternoon. The monastery has an Office to perform at sundown. We keep to the Chanting Rite, and mark our sunsets with Psalms." He was a bit surprised that Neves had not been aware of the monastic routines.

"That suits me and my men," said Neves at once. "The church in Porolissum held to a different Rite, Priam. They sang Mass four times each full day: at dawn, at mid-day, at sunset, and at midnight. They opened their church for each Mass so that everyone in the town could attend at least once a day."

"More Roman than we are," said Priam Corydon. "We hold more to the old Twelve Gospels and the Apostolic Rites. Every hour of the day and night, one of the novices chants in the chapel behind the altar. At the canonical Hours, all the monks must chant."

"What happens if you haven't enough novices?" Neves asked, sounding slightly amused.

"Then monks must sing; we fill every moment with prayers and praise," said Priam Corydon, asperity sharpening his answer. "But for now, we have novices enough." He went a short way in silence, thinking that the men around him cared little for novices and Psalms.

As if to confirm his supposition, Brevios said, "Just as well the snow is so deep. Our activities will be shaped by it. We'll need to find work to occupy all the people, women and children as well as men, or they may fall to mischief. My Watchmen will be glad of a little less labor than digging in the snow, but I don't want them to be idle. That could be as troublesome as the Huns if it isn't avoided." He was holding his arms out to help him stay balanced; the drift they waded through was piled up higher than his waist.

Bernardius pointed to the inner walls ahead. "My men are on watch until mid-day, then those of Apulum Inferior replace them. That should serve to occupy their afternoon, at least." He swung around. "You are fortunate to have so many men with you."

Brevios hesitated. "It would be better if we hadn't lost nine of them coming here, and that none of them had taken an inflammation of the lungs."

"Better yet if we hadn't left," grumbled Denerac.

Neves heard this and came to a halt. "Don't say that," he recommended. "I know what the Huns do, I've fought them, so has Tribune Bernardius. You have spared your families horrible suffering by abandoning your village."

"The Huns came to Tsapousso," said Denerac, visibly bristling; his thick, white mustaches quivered and his shoulders rose.

"And sensibly, you departed," said Neves, unimpressed by his display.

"Yes. We left behind everything, including the dying."

Neves nodded. "Just as the rest of us would have done in your situation. Not an easy decision, of course, but something that you had to do. Any leader must be called upon to deal with unpleasant things from time to time. You chose the most sensible action, though it was difficult."

Before the two men became furious, Priam Corydon intervened. "No doubt each of you has had his own horrendous experience with these barbarians, and shares the desire never to have to engage with them again. Since we can't be the ones to decide that, it behooves us to prepare for the worst they can do. We do this by improving our defenses and our housing. Don't you agree?"

Neves and Denerac exchanged vitriolic looks, then Neves moved on. "You are fortunate that the spring is inside the inner walls; they will not be able to drive us out by thirst. We will have to lay in more meat - smoked or salted - so that we can't be starved out, either. We will have to try to hunt in the meadows. There must be boar and deer about. Are there fish in the lake?" He reached the stairs up to the new battlement, and leaned forward to steady himself for the climb.

"A few. We could chop a hole in the ice, I suppose; we have done so before," said Priam Corydon, setting his foot on the tread after Neves, heading upward.

The rampart-walkways were no more than eighteen hands above the ground, but high enough to raise them above the level of men on horseback, and the logs that made the walls were notched to allow for more effective use of weapons. Each upright log was bound to its neighbor by wide iron straps, making the wall especially sturdy. The heavy planks of the walkway were a hand thick and fifteen hands wide, supported by upended-log pillars and braces to the wall that added to its strength. A dozen men could stand upon this section and not fear a collapse.

Leaning forward to support himself on the steps above as Neves had done, Priam Corydon soon reached the platform, where he asked, "What of the monks living in caves around the valley?" pointing to the ridge beyond the lake, its crags towering over it. "Do you see that spur? Three of them have cells there. The rest are lower down, above the scree."

Neves and Bernardius looked shocked; Brevios and Denarac were not surprised at anything monks might do.

"How many are there?" Neves asked, recovering himself slightly.

"Nine, if they're all still alive," Priam Corydon answered. "They come here on major feast days."

Bernardius scowled out at the face of the mountain. "Nunc non fassi est," he muttered in mangled Latin.

"It isn't safe for them to try to reach this place, not with snow so deep," Brevios remarked, stepping out on the walkway and squinting out at the sawtooth tor in front of them.

"Try to tell them, if you like; you need only walk half a league through deep snow," said Priam Corydon. "They have been there for years, and only two have died in the last six years. Monachos Vlasos makes them meat, cheese, and bread on Sundays and the novices carry the food to them; in addition they're provided meals on feast days, when they come here. They are always welcome at our table, of course, but they usually avail themselves of the welcome on feast days alone."

"When is the next feast day?" Neves asked.

"In three days' time," said Priam Corydon. "It commemorates our founder, Sanctu Eustachios, who came here forty years ago." Warming to his topic, he continued, "He had been a disciple of Sanctu Ioannos Chrysostom, and when that holy man was sent into exile, he dispersed his followers so that none would have to suffer on his account. Sanctu Eustachios, faithful to his vows to uphold traditional Christian worship, came here from Byzantiu - "

"In winter?" Denarac marveled. "Why would he come in winter?"

"He followed God's promptings. The spring and its chapel and the walls and the warehouses and barns were here, and the dormitory; there was a small company of nine soldiers left manning it, and they were glad to have Sanctu Eustachios with them; they became his first monks. As he gained followers, the monastery itself was built. Not all pious men drawn here seek to live among others; they prefer their remote cells."

"Why would they do that?" Bernardius asked. "This valley is isolated already. Why not accept the safety and companionship of other monks?"

"Some of them are afraid of soldiers, and of strangers, some have secrets they want to preserve, one of them is troubled in his mind and unwilling to live among others, or so they have told the novices; only four of them attended the Nativity Feast. They will join us again before many more days go by, when you may ask them for yourself." After a moment, Priam Corydon continued, "And some of them disapprove of what we're doing here."

"Disapprove?" Bernardius blurted, much shocked. "Why on earth should they disapprove?"

"They believe that to do anything to interfere with the unfolding of events is to go against God's Will, and therefore anyone who doesn't surrender to the fate of the world falls from Grace. If they strive to save themselves in this world, they damn themselves in the next," said Priam Corydon. "They say that if God wants us to be saved, He will save us: we disrespect Him if we seek to defend ourselves. It is for us to acquiesce in the Will of God, not to defy Him."

"Then they're fools!" Bernardius flapped his arms to show his indignation. "The Huns don't care about God."

"Do you think the hermits could be a problem for us?" Neves asked the Priam. "Would they aid the Huns?"

"Actively aid them, no," said Priam Corydon. "But they would do nothing to stop them."

Brevios shuddered. "Would they be willing to warn us of anything they see that might endanger the monastery?"

Priam Corydon considered this. "I doubt it," he told them at last. "It is likely that they would pray for God to use them according to His Will if they saw trouble coming."

"All the better then, that I've posted men on the mountains," said Neves, being as practical as he could.

"Very likely," said Brevios. "If you need more men to stand guard, I will provide some of our Watchmen. Ours is the largest delegation here: it is fitting that we shoulder the greater part of the care of this place."

Last onto the platform was Denerac, who brushed off the front of his wolfskin byrrus, then glowered out at the rising crags and said, "We had a monk who came to Tsapousso and preached the same nonsense. A few of our people believed him and would not evacuate with us: they remained behind and that was the last we heard of them." He shook his head slowly. "What God would ask that of His worshippers? Martyrdom ought to have its limits."

"Monachos Anatolios would approve of what they did," said Priam Corydon dryly. "He says it is what he will do."

"Then I hope the Huns will be merciful and make short work of him," said Neves. "Since his God will not spare him."

Priam Corydon made the sign of the cross toward the mountains. "May he enter Heaven singing."

"Screaming, more likely," said Denerac, his glare daring Priam Corydon to contradict him. "If the Huns take him, he'll have a proper foretaste of Hell, and no mistaking."

"Preco ni Dei me induxerunt in multos erroris," Bernardius whispered in his chaotic Latin.

"Praying won't save you," Denerac grumbled. "Tell those monks that they may help us, or they may keep to their cells, but it must be one or the other."

Brevios cleared his throat. "There are two families with our group who have declared their intention to leave as soon as travel is possible. I cannot compel them to remain. If they feel they must depart, I will be unable to stop them."

"If they feel that way when the snows begin to melt, then let them go, so that they will not interfere with our efforts," said Neves. "The same with Bernardius' group. No one should have to stay here if the roads are passable if they would prefer not to." He sighed. "We may have still more wanting to depart, come spring."

"All of us may have to leave," said Bernardius dispiritedly. "There are certain enemies we may have to flee rather than fight."

"You're descended from Legionaries, and you say that?" Neves asked, rounding on him.

"My grandfather said only a fool fights a futile battle," Bernardius declared. "Prudenti caveat barbaram."

Once again Priam Corydon intervened. "Let's deal with the evils we have before us rather than argue about those that may not befall us. We are agreed that we will not seek out a battle, or pursue a bellicose course. We have more than enough to contend with as things stand now." He shaded his eyes as he looked toward the mountain again. "I want those hermits to be safe, for their safety benefits us all. I'll talk to them in three days, when they will be here."

"And you will pray that they will listen," said Bernardius. "You are a good man, from what I've seen. You will try to save them."

"And I pray they will allow me to do so, in the name of Sanctu Eustachios. The monks are my flock; it is my duty to care for them." Priam Corydon stepped under the roof at the angle in the wall, rubbing his hands together. "You told me we need more weapons," he said to Neves.

"We do," he said. "There should be time enough to make spears, bows, and arrows, possibly even a ballista."

"That wouldn't be much use against cavalry," said Bernardius. "It might be," said Neves. "If we put it in the right place." He looked out toward the lake. "They'll have to muster somewhere, and the likeliest place is out there."

Priam Corydon shook his head. "In the spring a good portion of that land becomes a bog from the melting snows running into the lake. No. It would be too much trouble to climb the back side of that ridge: the drop is a steep one. There are too many hazards in that direction. They'll probably come in from the east, on the same road those from Apulum Inferior used, and that would give them the triangular foot of the pass to marshal their men."

"And the advantage of higher ground," said Neves.

"Could we force them onto the swale? Make them try to fight on boggy footing?" Bernardius asked. "It would slow any attack they made, and it might ruin their horses."

Denerac raised his voice. "Better to take down the buildings outside the walls. The Huns usually set out-buildings on fire."

"Do they?" Priam Corydon inquired. "Then the skinning shed and the quarantine-house will be taken down as soon as possible. The lumber can be used elsewhere in our defenses, and it will spare us the danger of out-buildings that can be set afire." The men all nodded their agreement, a little good-will spreading among them. In this more cordial atmosphere, Priam Corydon turned to Brevios. "Can you tell me how Patras Anso is doing?"

"He's improving," said Brevios.

"It is no small thing to have putrid lungs; he is fortunate to survive." He intended this remark sympathetically, but saw Brevios bristle. "If you will convey my wishes for his recovery to him and assure him of my prayers?"

Brevios stared at him. "I will do that," he said flatly.

Priam Corydon could not imagine what he had said that offended Brevios, for he had not wanted to slight the priest. "Thank you," he said properly.

"What plans have you made for evacuation? Has a route been chosen?" Denerac asked purposefully, forestalling any protests by adding, "It is a possibility we must consider."

"I haven't thought much about it," said Priam Corydon, "since there is no chance of evacuating now. When the snows are gone, it will be otherwise." He flipped his hand toward the edge of the valley. "If we must leave this place, it will be later in the spring. Between then and now, if we shore up the walls and the outer fortifications, we will at least have security enough to keep us safe from all but the most concerted assaults the Huns can make. With so many stalwart men to fight, surely we can sustain ourselves until one of the garrisons relieves us."

Neves chuckled mirthlessly. "More hope of Legions, Priam?"

"Like you, I am the descendant of the Legionaries posted here in the time of Imperial glory," he said.

Denerac moaned. "Another fool."

"Hardly a fool. My grandfather served as a quartermaster in one army; I do the same in another, and for a grander master." Priam Corydon inclined his head toward Neves, then Bernardius. "We have been taught to uphold Roman rule, and each of us, in his way, does what he can to vindicate our purpose, though I cleave to the Second Roma, not the First."

"If you believe you will vindicate your faith, Priam," said Neves with a shrug.

Whatever Denerac would have said was cut short by a voice from beneath them. "Priam Corydon."

The Priam went to the edge and looked down. "Dom Sanctu-Germainios . What may I do for you?"

"It is not for me, it is for the people in the monastery," said Sanctu-Germainios, looking up from where he stood. "I fear there are four guards in the refectory who are competing in terrifying one another and all those listening with ever-more-horrific tales of the Huns. Half their stories are about rape and the other half are about torture. There are fifty refugees listening, and most of them are now ready to succumb to terror."

Priam Corydon clicked his tongue. "What are they claiming? That the Huns are devils and ride on demons?"

"Nothing so ecclesiastical. The same thing that was said of all barbarians: that they sew Christians into the opened bellies of gutted swine and roast them on spits; that they open the bellies of Christians, tie their guts to trees, and force the Christians to walk around the tree until their own intestines bind them in place; that they cut a ribbon of flesh away from a captive's back, attach it to a spool, and continue to roll the ribbon onto the spool until the captive is entirely flayed." He had an uneasy moment as he recalled his own death by simple disemboweling. "The women are pale and whimpering, and the men have that transfixed stare that may end in sudden anger."

Priam Corydon made the sign of the cross. "What fools. May God restore them to their senses." He shoved past Bernardius as he made for the nearest descent ladder. "I will have to speak to them at once. Comrades, if you will come with me and help me to quell this nonsense. We have regulations for this."

Denerac sighed. "Why not let them continue?"

"Because it will lead to chaos," said Priam Corydon, continuing downward.

Neves followed after him. "Why didn't you try to stop them, Dom?" he asked as he set his foot on the first rung.

"They would not listen to Mangueinic, who did his best to change the nature of their tales; they would not listen to Monachos Vlasos, who chastised them for frightening their women and children; and they would not listen to me," he said levelly. He reached out and steadied the ladder. "They were too caught up in their tales of torture and havoc, relishing their growing panic for its excitement." He had encountered this pattern of cultivated dread before, and knew it led to nothing useful. "If you will speak to them, I think they may recover themselves."

Priam Corydon stepped onto the ground. "I suppose we should count ourselves fortunate that this didn't happen earlier." He squared his shoulders. "What of Patras Anso? Did he hear any of this?"

Sanctu-Germainios hesitated for an instant, then said, "He joined in the story-telling, and encouraged the four men in their contest." He kept slightly behind Priam Corydon, aware that Neves was following him.

"Humph," Priam Corydon uttered. "You'd think that a man of his position wouldn't want to encourage that sort of - "

A loud shout from the direction of the refectory halted the men in their tracks. As they stared, half a dozen men boiled out of the refectory door, trying to move and fight at the same time. Shouts and curses sounded from the developing melee. From other buildings people emerged, alarmed and curious about the sudden eruption from the refectory.

Priam Corydon gathered himself up. "Enough of this!" he bellowed, pressing forward through the snow. "All you men. Stop this. STOP."

The combatants wavered, then attempted to resume their battle.

"STOP." The sound of the Priam's voice was as absolute as a clap of thunder; this time the men lowered their fists and dropped their cudgels and knives.

"What possessed you?" Priam Corydon demanded as he came up to the flattened stretch of icy slush outside the refectory door. "Bacoem, you have only one arm - why abuse it? What idiotic notion came over you?" He trod up directly to the tallest of the scrappers and faced him unflinchingly. "If you were a monk, you'd be confined to your cell for a month, and given only water and bread to eat."

"It's the Huns - " the man began.

"You decided to do their work for them, did you?" Priam Corydon glared at him.

"No. Nothing like that. There was - " the man blustered, then went silent as Rotlandus Bernardius came up beside the Priam.

"Yes, Woliac of Gardmandus," he said with excessive cordiality. "Tell Priam Corydon what it was like. Then perhaps I will understand why one of my men should so disgrace himself. Calcitratus sum. I am ashamed."

Mangueinic, leaning heavily on his crutches, appeared in the doorway, a small crowd behind him. "You six have broken the stated rules for this monastery. You know what those rules are. I warned you when you began your fighting that you would have to answer for it."

Bernardius looked steadily at the man he had addressed as Woliac of Gardmandus. "The penalty for fighting is five days in a cell for a first offense. You and your three companions will be put in cells for five days. If there is a repetition of fighting, you will be exiled." He shook his head. "Four against two. You do not even fight honorably."

Woliac blustered in protest, "We had to fight. You don't know what they said about us, and - "

"Nor do I care. You were told not to fight. You were ordered not to spread fear. You disobeyed," said Bernardius.

"But we had to. Don't you understand?" Woliac importuned. Mangueinic pegged over to Bernardius. "My two men are just as much to blame, and they, too, will have five days in the cells to think about the error of their ways." He turned to Priam Corydon. "I am sorry they forgot themselves."

Brevios, not to be out-done, declared, "And if any egged them on, they will stand extra Watches while Bacoem and Smardens keep their five-day isolation."

Mangueinic stood back a pair of steps, looking over the gathering around the six men. "Thirhald, Dom Sanctu-Germainios, will you escort Bacoem and Smardens to their cells?"

Thirhald hesitated, then stepped forward; Sanctu-Germainios came forward from the rear of the gathering. "Which cells are we to use?" he asked Priam Corydon.

"The ones on the third floor of the monastery. The cells for penance." The Priam turned his attention to the other men. "Tribune Bernardius, will you take these men in hand?"

Neves joined Bernardius, saying as he did, "Lead the way, Tribune."

The gathered people melted away as the group of ten moved off toward the cruciform monastery and the steep, narrow stairs that led to the penitents' cells.

Text of a letter from Gnaccus Tortulla, Praetor Custodis of Viminacium, in the Province of Moesia, to Verus Flautens, land-owner near Drobetae, written on vellum and carried by official messenger nine days after it was written.

To the distinguished Roman and currently acting Praetor-Governor of the Drobetae region of the former Province of Dacia Inferior, my heartiest congratulations and my hope that you will enjoy the privileges of your office.

As I intimated to you last year, your appointment to this position for Romans living within the frontiers of the former province is an honor that is long overdue. I know that you will acquit yourself brilliantly, with devotion to Roma and attention to the welfare of the Romans living around you.

Notice of this promotion is being tendered to the Gepidae and Goths now living in the region, with the assurance that you will receive their cooperation in all matters that bear both upon their concerns and upon Roman ones.

With this in mind, I urge you to dispatch your man to the monastery we have discussed. I know the roads are not yet passable, but I think you should consider authorizing his travel as soon as may be, for once the roads are passable, your servant may have to share them with the Huns, and we need to have information as soon as may be in that regard. Remember, the service you do Roma will bring Roman gratitude and honor for your family.

The refugees we saw in such number last autumn have dwindled to a trickle, but I fear that with the warmer weather, we will once again be overwhelmed with Romans, Goths, and Gepidae fleeing the old province. Any warning of numbers that you can supply will be most welcome.

I hope to have the honor of attending your investiture once spring is truly under way. If circumstances intervene, I ask you to receive this as surety of my alliance to you and your gens.

On the fifty-fifth day since the Winter Solstice,

Gnaccus Tortulla Praetor Custodis

Viminacium, Province of Moesia