Notes from the Sacking of Rome

by Rebekah Anderson

August 17, 410

Alaric is such a Hun! Although, he would kill me if I ever said that to his face. Literally, he would gut me on the spot. Why do I say he's a Hun? Because he acts like one, that's why. First of all, he said to come see him yesterday, but when I went to his tent in the afternoon, Theodimir told me he was indisposed. Indisposed?! We had a meeting! But I guess when you're the king of the Visigoths, you don't have to keep your appointments.

Though that is not the worst of it. I'm starting to think that maybe Alaric doesn't want me on this campaign. It's true that I was running with a rough gang of Ostrogoths before I enlisted, but I thought I'd proven myself on the steppes. Ohhhh nooooooo! Apparently, that's not good enough for Alaric, king of everything. Okay, so maybe I like to toss back the mead with his son Gesalic on occasion and he doesn't like that so much, but that doesn't make us Vandals, right?

August 18, 410

Okay, so what really has me worried is that we're on our way to sack Rome, right, and we all need to keep up our strength. I mean, who knows what's going to happen when we get there. So we're each supposed to get a certain amount of rabbit-jerky every day when we go to fill our tins with spoiled milk at the meat tent. Well, every day, my jerky ration gets smaller and smaller. Maybe I'm being totally paranoid, but I can't think that somehow Alaric has decreed it. I mean, why else?

Gesalic says I should just chill. There will be plenty of good eats in Rome anyway. I hope he's right, because I'm kinda hungry and we still have six more days to go until we get there. I came out here to sack, not to starve! I wish Theodoric the Wiser had come with us. He's a thief at twenty hens an hour, but I could really use a session right now.

August 20, 410

Too much mead last night! It's a good thing we won't get to Rome for a couple of days because I am NOT up for sacking today. Theodimir let it slip last night that Alaric is mad at me for mishandling a pony. Give me a break! I have half a mind to sneak off to Hispania and let these fools sack without me.

August 23, 410

Alaric addressed the troops this morning. He didn't even look at me when he was speaking! Seriously! According to him, Rome is just over the next couple of hills and we should be there tomorrow. He says the Romans think we're pony-fucking cannibals. I say, who cares? We know we're not. I mean, everyone knows that ponies kick you when you try to fuck them. And I've never eaten human meat, except for maybe that one time I smoked herbs with those caravaning goat herders and they fed me mystery stew, but that doesn't count. My point is, why should we care what those blanket-wearing, rotten-grape-juice-drinking Romans think?

August 24, 410

I am so out of here! It is way, way too hot to sack today. Plus I'm tired of sacking for someone else all the time. On the march to Rome this morning, I snuck off pretending to go drain my gourd, if you know what I mean, and then headed off into the woods. Hispania, here I come! Sack away, suckers! Sack away! I'll be roasting a fresh rabbit over the fire tonight!