by Marc Jones
“I will stay with you,” Tetricus replied, taking his hand. “No warrior should die alone.”
Athanaric smiled weakly. Night seemed to be falling very early that day. Darkness was quickly stealing over the clearing. “Thank… you…”
He could feel the eyes on him. Stilicho couldn’t see them, not all of them, but they were there. He was being watched. He shifted slightly in the saddle and then successfully resisted the temptation to look down at his feet. These stapeda things still took a little getting used to.
In front of him the thousand men of the VII Legion were practicing evolutions – moving from marching columns to fighting lines and back again. From the shakiness of the lines there were still some legionaries who were still getting the hang of it and he winced slightly as he heard the standard of the swearing that was coming from the Centurions and Optios as they sought to straighten the lines.
He wished for a moment that he could have had just two legions from the past. Two legions from the days of Constantine or Marcus Aurelius would have sufficed to go to Gaul and chop up the rebellion there in less than a month. He smiled slightly. Or so he liked to think. Everything about the past seemed to be better than the present these days, at least according to the tales that people told.
Stilicho forced his face into a neutral expression. They had better Emperors back then and that was the truth. Honorius worried him. He seemed so unlike his father. Theodosius had been a force to reckon with. A strong Emperor with a vision of the future. Honorius was a young man with a fondness for chickens. He even had one named after Rome. At least he was treating Thermantia and their son Maximian well. And the latter was a delight. He was very young but already lively. He had eyes the same colour as his famous Imperial grandfather, so perhaps the blood of Theodosius the Great was still potent. Plus he was of course Stilicho’s grandson. He just had to make sure that the boy was left with a legacy.
He looked at the marching men again. The lines were straighter now and the swearing a tad less… imaginative. Good. They were still nothing as good as they needed to be but at least they were there, in the ranks and wearing armour. He needed to just keep drilling them. Drill morning, noon and night. Soldiers weren’t born, you had to mould them. Drill them until they could move from one evolution to another in their sleep. Get them fit enough so that they could march for miles and miles in a day.
Stilicho winced slightly and then smoothed his face out again. The men in front of him were barely trained. Yes, he’d gotten out the old retired veterans to train and drill them, yes he’d gotten them armed and armoured, with horses for the officers. They wouldn’t trip over their own spears at least. They’d be going up against a lot of Gaulish cavalry and an unknown number of rebel infantry. And if he had to admit the truth – the truth that haunted him in the middle of the night, when he would lie there in bed with a sleeping Serena and stare at the ceiling – he didn’t know if they would be enough. If they could win.
He almost wished that he wasn’t planning this damn campaign to retake Gaul. If only he could write off that damn place, with the Limes on the Rhenus that seemed to be a bottomless pit for men and money. But he couldn’t. His position wasn’t strong enough for that. Hell, Constantine himself, if he had returned from the dead, couldn’t have pulled that one off. Rome had controlled Gaul since the days of Gaius Julius Caesar. There had been a few interruptions here and there, not least the short-lived Gallic Empire that had existed a hundred and fifty years before, but Gaul was an integral part of the Empire.
No, he couldn’t let it go. The more restive parts of the Senate might be cowed at the moment, but they were still there. Still alive. The execution of Strabo had put the fear of death into them, but if he stumbled then they would be on his back with daggers in an instant. He was balancing on the blade of a sword. One wrong move, one miscalculation and he would fall. There were risks all around him now.
Stilicho frowned slightly. He’d be heading for Gaul soon with the new standing army, training it as he went. It had been another cold winter and he wanted as many passes open as possible, so that he could get to the other side of the Alps as quickly and cohesively as possible. Which meant that he needed to leave Rome in the hands of someone he could trust. Someone who wouldn’t betray him. Someone who wouldn’t overawe Honorius to the point where he realised that he could replace Stilicho. Tricky. He needed to think hard about that.
He turned his attention back to the Legion in front of him, which was now marching the other way with their Aquilifer holding up the labarum. He thought for a moment about the reports he’d heard about the army in Britannia recapturing the old Eagle of the IX Hispana. That was a powerful symbol and he envied them for it.
Then he sighed. Britannia was something to worry about later. After Gaul. And a shiver ran down his back for a moment. He also desperately needed more cavalry. And his Visigoths were understandably distracted at the moment. He needed to do a lot of thinking.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The sun was shining full on through the window of Londinium’s Basilica. Aurelianus paused for a moment to feel the warmth on his face for a long moment. Spring had arrived early in Britannia that year. As they’d ridden in from Deva he’d seen that someone who had perhaps come from Hispania originally had planted some narcissus bulbs in an old pot outside their home, and their yellow heads looked quite cheery.
Cheerier than he felt right now, but he made sure that his face had a pleasant smile on it as he greeted the others around the table. Gratianus looked less tired than he had before, whilst Cornelius Felix had a look of vague abstracted concern. As for Vitalis, well the man looked as he always did – slightly smug and also slightly amused by the idiots that he thought that he was dealing with.
Aurelianus sat at his accustomed seat, with Poplicala to his right and Cato to his left. The cavalry commander continued to impress him. The man seemed to grow in stature with every crisis. Previously he had always worried that his son would need stronger support in Deva than he thought existed. He had no such worries now. In fact there were even times when he wondered if Cato might make a better leader than his son. Perhaps. Perhaps not. In battle – yes, without question. But here in the Basilica – well, meetings like this required a slightly different type of leadership. As well as the ability to not show what you were really thinking on your face.
“Are we all assembled?” Gratianus asked the question as he looked around. “I see that we are. Spring is upon us and I am glad to say that it was a quiet Winter along the Wall. That said, our patrols from the forts of the Saxon Shore will need to be stepped up over the next few weeks. I still do not feel that we should in any way let our guard down when it comes to the Sea Wolves. They may still be reeling from the chaos of the past few years, but we cannot take it for granted that they have been defeated.”
“I have heard from some traders who deal in amber from the Mare Suebicum that Sea Wolf ships have been seen heading East there,” Cornelius Felix said quietly. “There are also reports that those Sea Wolves who head North are never seen again.”
“I care not where they go, as long as it is not West towards our shores,” Gratianus said stonily. “We cannot afford their raids.”
“What word from Gaul?” Decidivatus asked.
Aurelianus looked at Cornelius Felix, who looked back at him. After a moment the latter shrugged. “Little and what there is - is ominous. Constantius is preparing the defence of Gaul against Stilicho’s forces. Hispania is still loyal to Rome but cannot do much at the moment. Apparently Stilicho has scared the Senate in Rome enough for it to see sense and fund a field army. How good that army is I cannot tell you, but word is that Stilicho will march against Gail soon. He must try to reconquer it. If he does not then he will be doomed.”
“I have no information to add,” Aurelianus muttered. “Constantius has not written to me as I think he has more important things to do. We must await events – but at the same time not take our eyes off the borders. We will hav
e to see how the North reacts to recent events. And there has been no words from Hibernia recently. If the unrest there continues then we must expect raids from the West. We need to bolster the numbers of ships and marines we have.”
Vitalis cleared his throat and smiled at them all. “A good point. And one which brings up something that I feel I need to bring up. We are facing all kinds of threats from all kinds of directions. We have been co-ordinating things quite well. But, I feel that now is the time that we formalised matters. I am – informally – the Governor of Britannia Prima. Others of you are, again informally or formally, Governors of the other areas of Britannia. And the rest of you have… various responsibilities. Surely it makes sense to formalise matters? So that we have a formal chain of command?”
Aurelianus felt a shiver of unease pass through him. He had a very feeling bad about this. It sounded logical, but something felt very wrong in the pit of his stomach.
“What exactly are you proposing?” The question came from Decidivatus, who was frowning. “We are still tied to the Empire, even if the Empire is cut off from us at the moment. Things are finely balanced.”
Vitalis spread his arms out. “I agree. Things are finely balanced. So surely it makes sense to have some clarity in our… well, let’s call it our organisational structure. Including our military forces. We need a Magister Militum. Someone to organise our forces into a single entity.”
Ah. Here it was. Aurelianus looked at Vitalis, who smiled back at him. “So – who would you suggest?”
This bought him a look of apparent reasoned thought. “Surely whoever has the most forces at his command would be the logical candidate. That makes sense does it not?”
There followed a moment of silence as various people looked at each other. Aurelianus did his best to look as bemused as the rest. So this is what he has planned, he thought bitterly before he smiled internally. Well, too bad.
“Do we all have such information at the moment?” He asked the question easily as the others looked around in confusion at each other and Vitalis looked at him and narrowed his eyes. He smiled back at the man. “And what kind of forces are we talking about here? Trained men or auxiliaries? We cannot count every man with access to a spear – that would be too general.”
“I am talking about organised forces, including the Tribes.” Vitalis replied with a hard smile.
Gratianus’s eyebrows went up. “Why include the Tribes?”
Vitalis spread his hands expressively. “We will need every spear in the event of an emergency.”
“If we need the Tribes then we’ll be in very deep trouble indeed,” Gratianus said. “A mobilisation on that kind of scale would only be needed in the event of invasion on a massive scale. And I wouldn’t want to even think about the supply problems that would result from it.”
“At any event,” Vitalis broke in with a scowl as he obviously tried to bring the conversation back under control, “A Magister Militum should be appointed.”
“Why?” Poplicala asked caustically. “Surely we are doing just fine at the moment?”
“As a soldier surely I don’t need to explain the need for a clear chain of command to you?” Vitalis drawled, something flashing in his eyes.
“Very well then – I propose Marcus Ambrosius Aurelianus as Magister Militum,” Poplicala said, leaning back in his chair and looking around the table. “He commands Deva, where much of our cavalry is being trained, as well as the heavy infantry that we at some point need to decide what to do with. I think that we should build a formal Legion out of it, but then that’s the opinion of a mere soldier.”
“Surely,” Vitalis said with a dismissive flip of his hand, “We need a Magister Militum who is younger. And besides surely the main threat at the moment come from Hibernia?”
“Ah, you mean that you are volunteering for the post?” Gratianus leant forwards and curled his lip at Vitalis. “How noble of you.”
“And surely Deva is a better place from which to confront the Hibernian problem than Glevum?” Cornelius Felix broke in with a frown.
Vitalis scowled at them all before schooling his features into an emotionless mask. “I merely thought that it might be a good idea. I can see that there are those here who would twist my words. Even though I can call on the spears of 30,000 men from my province.”
An icy silence fell around the table. It was broken by Aurelianus. “Is that a threat Vitalis?”
“Merely an observation. A lot of people have been writing to me with concerns about the way that our forces have been used to protect Britannia.”
“Yes, how dare we protect Valentia from the Painted People,” Cato broke in calmly. “And in the process saving the Wall.”
“You exaggerate the threat,” Vitalis replied dismissively.
“I saw the threat. I fought the threat. So did Gratianus. Two battles over three days. If we had not been there then Valentia would have been overrun.”
“So you say.”
“I do indeed.”
Vitalis and Cato glared at each other – or rather Vitalis glared whilst Cato just stared back at him, not giving way.
In the end it was Vitalis who ceded the initiative, leaning back in his chair and waving a hand. “Very well. As there is nothing left to report perhaps we should adjourn for the time being. Both the East coast and the West coast must be watched in case of raiders. I will of course be fully on my guard in the West.”
“As will I,” Aurelianus replied. “Do not worry – Segontium will be fully manned and the Marines will be ready against any attacks.”
Vitalis parted his lips in what might be described as a smile but which might also be described as a showing of his teeth. “How reassuring.” And then he stood and swept out.
As the meeting broke up Aurelianus caught the eyes of Cato, Poplicala, Gratianus, Tupilius and Decidivatus. “He’s planning something. He wants us to know that he apparently has 30,000 spears behind him.”
“He can’t assemble that many men,” Cato mused. “Feeding that number would be a nightmare and they’d have to return to their fields for the harvest. A thousand would be more likely, maybe two thousand at a pinch.”
“Why is he doing this now though?” Tupilius asked worriedly.
Aurelianus thought hard and then raised a finger. “He thinks that we will be cut off from Rome for some time now. He has no faith in Stilicho’s efforts to recapture Gaul.”
“Then he’s taking a gamble,” Poplicala rumbled. “Who knows what will happen in Gaul!”
“A point. But if Stilicho does win he won’t have the strength to cross over the Straits to us here. There’s no fleet capable of carrying an army over and besides he needs to keep an eye on the Rhenus. No, this is Vitalis telling us that he will be Magister Militum, here in Britannia, no matter what. He will return to this. And he will not stop.”
A grim silence fell. “Then we must stop him.” Cato said the words heavily. “I do not see how we can trust him. To say that the North was never in any real danger! But how though? I do not think that we can risk civil war.”
Aurelianus nodded. “Let me do some thinking about this. I will let you all know.” He smiled crookedly. “Strength and honour.”
“Strength and honour,” they all replied.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The map was… interesting. Constantius looked down at it and then looked up at Tetricus, who was looking travel-stained and tired from his trip to the South. “How many more have come in so far?”
“Another 200 sir. I have them training with the others. Training as much as possible. I know that we don’t have much time left.”
“No,” he rumbled, “We don’t. Good work. The more we can get, the better the chance of victory.”
“I know sir.” Tetricus said it with a wry smile. Then he looked at Constantius. “You are staying with the plan then?”
Constantius leant back from the table that he had been leaning on and sighed. “Yes. It’s a gamble, I know. Plans that are
too complicated have a higher chance of going wrong. But we don’t have a choice. Stilicho will come at us with all that he can raise as soon as he can, driven by need and desperation. He needs a fast victory. If we stop him from achieving that then we might just live long enough to cause his downfall.”
Tetricus nodded and then looked back up at him. “What news of the Visigoths?”
A sigh erupted out of Constantius’ chest. “The last that I had heard of them, they had split into three groups. One was heading South, one was heading South West and one was heading South East. None of them were led by anyone who called himself a king. They are just fleeing to find somewhere where they can settle. You saw some of them, correct?”
“I did. They are broken. And if they are scattered as much as you say they are we should let them go to do what they wish.”
“Why?”
“They will stop and settle and become Gauls. They are not a threat any more. Most of their men are dead. Their women need husbands. They will… be absorbed within us.”
Constantius looked at Tetricus for a long moment and then tilted his head and sighed. “Perhaps. Perhaps. Let us watch them for a while.” He smiled savagely. “If we live that is.”
Vitalinus met him on road that went from Calleva to Corinum. He had an escort of 100 riders with him, all with saddles that bore the stapeda, and Vitalis scowled for a moment to himself as he looked at them. He wished that they had at least some of the same armour and equipment, instead of the mishmash that they had at the moment. But then that was something for another day. It would take time and more silver. It always came down to more silver and he made a note to check on the status of the latest shipments. The lead was useful, but the silver was vital.
“Father. How did it go?” Vitalinus looked tired but alert and Vitalis nodded at him in greeting, before gesturing to his guards to leave them alone.
“Badly. Well – not as badly as it might have. I was surprised by how united they are. However, I have planted some seeds. We must see what grows from them. At the very least I have cemented my position here in the West. They will never dare to move against us and we have a foundation here to build on.”