"H. Warner Munn - Merlins Godson" - читать интересную книгу автора (Munn H Warner)

An age is dying, the whole world tottering to ruin, overrun by barbarians as we in Britain were; yet for a
hundred years no news crossed the seas to us, other than garbled rumors brought by Saxons who were
no friends to Rome.

They met our galleys and warships, twenty to one, and sank them. They harried our coast, burning,
marauding, pillaging, till hardly a roundship dared venture the crossing of the channel, and trade died.
Communication with the continent was shut off. Even the fishing-vessels dared not leave the sight of land,
and everywhere the Saxon dragon-ships held the seas.
So, understand then that at the risk of boring you with an old tale, I must review the events following the
recall of the legions, when hi all Britain the only Roman soldiers were those of the sadly decimated Sixth
Legion, Victrix, stationed at Eboracum and on the Wall.

If this be known to you, pass on. There are things to follow that will be new, for I am the only Roman left
alive hi all the world who has knowledge of the marvels I shall describe.

First, after the Emperor Honorius’ letter of recall, the Twentieth Legion embarked—leaving Deva and the
west country exposed to the fierce mountain tribes of the Silures. Then from Ratae the Ninth marched
away and all the low country was helpless.

Two years later, the Second Legion left Isca Silurum and nothing hindered the pirates from sailing up the
broad Sabrina.

Lastly went the greater part of the Sixth, and, too weak to hold the Wall, the Consul moved his forces
farther south, deserting Eboracum to the Picts and Saxons, who promptly occupied it, settling there to
stay.

If the various cities could have agreed among themselves, and together have assembled an army, Britain
might yet be free. There were plenty of men with stout hearts and Roman training, and some of these the
Sixth recruited to bring up the full strength of the legion, but this was like diluting wine with water.

The cities from which the levies came bickered among themselves, each trying to keep its fighting-men at
home, and so, singly too weak to fight off invasion, they fell as they fought, singly. Meanwhile the various
British princelings gathered a following and set up petty kingdoms, quite separately from the city-states,
and most of these were later destroyed or absorbed by the invaders.

Eventually what remained of the Sixth after three generations of fighting, recruiting and dilution, still calling
itself Roman and Victrix as well, clinging to its eagles, retreated into the mountains of Damnonia, the last
stronghold of Britain.

And here I must in more detail begin the story of my own particular family and tell how it was affected by
these events.

Stranger! Know me first. I am Ventidius Varro, then —Roman to the core of me, though I never have
seen that lovely city by the Tiber, nor did my father before me. He was British born, of a British mother,
and on his father’s side was possessed of only one quarter of pure Roman blood. Yet am I Roman, my
allegiance is to Rome, and to her goes my love and my heart’s yearning—to that delectable city which I
shall now never see in life!

The story of my family is the tragedy of Britain. When my great-grandfather was called into the troops,