Barbarians at the Gate

Rome, Italia, 452 CE

Valentinian III was the son, grandson, great-grandson, cousin and nephew (twice over) of Roman Emperors, but to his family’s chagrin, he inherited little, if any, of their kingly attributes. He was neither a great ruler nor a fine general, but he did, nonetheless, ascend the throne, becoming the Roman Emperor of the West. To the people’s delight, and their great luck, Valentinian’s mother proved a strong ruler, and his Master of Soldiers was well-endowed with military talents, desperately needed in the empire’s struggle against barbarian warlords who were attacking from every angle.

The empire had already been divided in two – the East and the West – each assigned its own emperor who found ruling a smaller swath of land more manageable in the face of barbarian encroachment. The emperors offered the barbarians land on which to settle in exchange for cooperation in military matters. But one tribe coming from the Far East, the barbarian nation of the Huns, seemed less interested in alliance, favoring conquest instead.

“Oh, mother, perhaps you worry too much about Attila. He was, after all, unable to take Constantinople,” Valentinian said, spitting a grape seed to the floor as he lied long on a plush, purple couch with ivory legs. His mother marched toward him with haste.

“If the heart of the Eastern Empire eludes him, would he not turn to the heart of the West?” she exclaimed, her cheeks burning with anger.

Atilla and his people had emigrated to Europe with malicious intent, using mounted archery and javelin throwing to overtake many lands, their dominion stretching from the Ural River in the east to the Rhine River in the west, and from the Danube River in the north to the Baltic Sea in the south. But when they marched upon the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire, Constantinople, they were forced to admit defeat, unable to penetrate the city’s double walls. Rome’s fortification, however, was weaker.

“Offer them land in Italia’s northern provinces and be done with it,” Valentinian quipped.

“Have my words fallen upon deaf ears?” his mother cried. “Atilla does not want to be appeased. He wants to conquer!”

Valentinian snapped back, his tone over-bearing. “For now, we know he is occupied in Gaul where he is on the losing side of luck. So let us not worry until there is a rightful reason to worry.”

His mother sighed with discontent.

“In any case, I have not called you here to talk of Atilla,” Valentinian said, softening his voice. “I have great news to share regarding my lovely daughter, Honoria. I have arranged for her marriage,” he said, smiling sweetly.

His mother cocked her head with surprise.

“She shall wed a wealthy Senator, Aelius Grata.”

“And what does she say of this arrangement?”

“It is not her place to say anything, but as you know, Honoria’s stubborn heart could not help but raise a protest. She has barricaded herself in her room. She is weeping, I am sure, about all the injustices of her royal life,” he smirked.

On the opposite end of the palace, in a spacious, cylindrical room, Honoria sat hunched over a roll of parchment, furiously scribbling as she wept. With such sumptuous apple cheeks and foe-like eyes, she could have any man of her choosing. Aelius Grata, with his beastly appearance, was nowhere near her heart’s desire. To remedy her situation, and to spite her father, Honoria would write a letter to Atilla the Hun, asking him to come rescue her.

Upon receipt, Atilla shrieked, “We must march toward Rome!” He read Honoria’s letter with delight, interpreting her request as a marriage proposal whose dowry would entitle him to the Western Roman Empire. Atilla gathered his troops in Gaul and began marching south toward Rome.

When they arrived at the city’s wall, made of brick-faced concrete piled fifty feet high, Valentinian’s mother began panting, panic having seized her mind. “Oh Heavens! I warned of this!” she bellowed while racing like a maddened woman up and down the palace corridor.

Valentinian rushed to the window. “Barbarians at the gate! Barbarians at the gate!” he shouted.

Being utterly unprepared, for Rome’s troops were engaged elsewhere in the empire, Valentinian was forced to send three envoys, the Bishop of Rome among them, to negotiate peace with Atilla. The bishop spoke of divine punishment, which had been executed before on barbarians seeking to sack the great city of Rome. The bishop’s words stirred Atilla’s superstitious soul and he peacefully retreated, leaving Rome with a bitter heart.

Two years later years later, Atilla met his death. But it was not long after – less than twenty-five years – that the Western Roman Empire fell to a barbarian tribe. And when a man of Hunnic descent became Italia’s first barbarian king, divine wrath was nowhere to be felt.