Vandalarius: The One Sword of The Romano-Gothic Empire [COMPLETED]- Updated May 24th '19

[Lugotorix]

THE AMBUSH

In Tarragon, Vithimiris son of Gundulf had heard little word, just rumors from either Filimer or Vandalarius and the people, Roman, Spaniard, and Goth, grew restless. In standard times, the Goths would have scouts report of all of the armies movements, two to three times a day in nearby cities, all the way to once every two days in the capital. No such luxury was afforded, and the last word of Filimer’s Bear-Sons were that they were headed into heavily wooded hills to the north-east of the city, where they had disappeared for months.

The Goths were stretched for manpower, and no such skilled scouts could be found. Desertion was an issue, and such volunteers would often defect on forays into enemy territory. Guitifrida, an adventurous type, had been sent on a mission to the Chieftain Adbitos and the Picts, which had migrated to the vicinity of Narbonensis and camped for the winter. If they crossed the Tyrrhenian in the spring, Filimer would have to be recalled, if he was even alive at all, to combat them at Ajaccio.

Word did arrive, one day, that a large Roman army was coming from the east. Were they liberators, the Romans spoke in the open of the prospect. If Sulla had defeated Vandalarius at Narbo, there would be nothing stopping the Picts and Bastarnians from crossing Septimania, and nothing to stop the Italian city-states from marching their armies to collect Hunnic gold for the demise of the Goths, and a prime port city.

The banners were a mustard colored red striped strong bull, that of Gaius Aebutianus, the governor of Massalia. He was believed to have been killed by the Huns during the sieges of Massalia and Segusio, but there he stood, a young man in the service of the empire when Vithimiris had last seen him.

Vithimiris prayed to his pagan Germanic gods. Wotan deliver him, the Romans were many. He was on the cusp of losing his father, Gundulf's prized target, the one that had driven him to madness and death. The army was large, some two thousand strong, and prepared for a siege. It sat in formation to the eastern shore of the city, along the road. The waves were angry. Boats were coming. Vithimiris believed then, that Vandalarius was dead and that the assault on Narbo had failed. What was strange, from his tower vista, is that the boats belonged to Liuva.

Then he saw it, the streaming banners of the House of Theoderic. Vandalarius on a pale horse, followed by his second, and his majors. He looked older, with whiskers that were white in the sun. They rode ahead of the Massalian army to walls, where the gates opened, with hesitation. The man with the finest eyes was taken to ensure that Vandalarius was unharmed. At first the guard towers had believed him to be a hostage, but he was armed and uninjured, and quite tired, but the best gazers look at him.

What he lacks in excitement he makes up for in calculated superiority in swordplay and cunning

Gaius had thrown off Sulla from the city of Narbo, and during a brief fight that followed, a surrender was issued when the boats of Liuva entered the port on a signal from Vandalarius, and the Goths and legio in Vandalarius’ army had ended the power struggle, with Gaius firmly in control of Narbo. Gaius thought to set the navy alight, when he saw the advancing Gothic army had aided him.

He was no nonsense at first, thanking Vandalarius in a parlay and then asking him to leave. When Vandalarius refused, even at his disadvantage, saying that he would not disgrace his father’s memory and his mother in Caralis, and Filimer who was returning to Tarragon. Vandalarius told Gaius that Filimer’s wrath would come one day, should his force be defeated, and they instead decided to be allies. With the walls open at Narbo, Vandalarius was at a disadvantage, and was forced to promise Gaius protection from any hostility from the Goths, and Gaius was given control of the city.

Gaius had fled Massalia when the Huns began to set fire to it, but his army had endured. He marched for months, evading Hunnic patrols, until eventually he found shelter with his army in Narbo, where he clashed constantly in arguments with Sulla. There had been spies questions as to the garrison of Narbo, and now Vandalarius knew he would have been crushed should he have attacked the city. He waited for his brother Liuva to sail his ship, and keep an eye on the harbor in search of the enemy numbers. When he saw fighting and fleeing boats at the docks, he knew disorder had been sparked in the city at the sight of the Gothic force.

He had much trouble believing, as Gaius later told him, with Christ as his witness, that the fighting had started before the Gothic army approached, only when the ships had been seen. Liuva ordered a landing instructing his men to reply as to which side they were on with the word ‘ours.’

Gaius waited outside the city as he was instructed, and made camp, where he informed a diplomat that his men sought supplies and food. Narbo had been starving, leading to many of the arguments with Sulla as to how all of the men he had taken on would be fed. Matters had came to a head when they didn’t know how many boats were in the Storms of Maoetis, which was approaching from the sea. Roman ships would have tipped the odds in the favor of Sulla, a Duccian loyalist, knowing he would be in peril if Sulla was given the upper-hand, so Gaius made his attack on the guard towers of Sulla. Sea merchants fled, and the fight was tipped off to Liuva.

Snow flurries began to fall on Tarragon, as the camp of Gaius celebrated control of Narbo. Gaius was allowed entry into the city, where he was given a good welcome by the Romans who had known him in the peace that had once existed between Gallica, Hispania, and the Romano-Gothic Empire.

Vithimiris spoke in private with Vandalarius. The young man tore hungrily into bread and porridge, starved from the long march. The Romans and their countrymen had been getting along quite well, and he suspected betrayal at any moment on the trek back, he told Vithimiris.

Vithimiris, son of Gundulf told him: ‘By my whip and sandals, Filimer is missing. He cannot be in the hills to the north any longer, he must have been traveling slowly north, if anything else remains of his army. Our last scout said he was on a rendezvous with very dangerous people in the hills, friends of an Alemanni named Liutprand.’

‘The Alemanni may have led him into an ambush.’ Vandalarius answered. He was longing for a shave. But more than that, he was brimming at the idea of sending a letter to Valdamerca in Constantinople that Filimer was finally dead. He relished the thought, after these victories, and the victory he had been told of when he was away. Valdamerca always knew how to make good use of plenty, and these were fortunate times. They could feed an army very well with the farmlands of Sardinia and had gained another trade partner in Septimania. Vithimiris spoke again.

‘I’ve heard tonight’s missives. Guitifrida has failed in her attempt to convert the Celt Adbitos. She’ll try sending him to the gods next. The Bastarnians have set sail for Ajaccio. Your mother Gaatha must not be in the town when she arrives, and Liuva must set double sails to return to confront the Bastarnians if they mean to land. The Picts are stationary, for now, but Ajaccio may fall to them if Adbitos is not killed.’

‘How could Friaress Guitifrida kill someone?’ Vandalarius laughed hard.
‘With the help of Pictish Christians. The Picts are becoming more like your people in religion. I’ll stick to the irminsul of Lugus.’

‘Careful. Or old ladies will be after you next.’ Vandalarius smiled. He was named after Arius, another branch of Christianity.
‘ Enough nonsense. Can Gaius be trusted.’ Vithimiris asked.
‘No.’ Vandalarius waved a hand. ‘He needs us now but one the food flows into Narbo it will begin to work independently again. And there’s still no explanation when Narbo was left untouched by the Bastarnians and Abasgians who hunted Filimer to here.’

‘We’re in no shape to interrogate anyone.’ Vithimiris answered, glum. ‘Let’s just hope our King is protected.’
A knock was heard at the door. It was Princess Chloe. She was worshipped in the capital at Tarragon, while Gaatha stayed away from her company in Caralis, bitter of Trapstilicus’ loss of power and her son being forced, no, allowed, to campaign.

She looked dreadfully at Vithimiris and Vandalarius.
‘There’s been an ambush to the north!’ She gasped.

Gaius Afranius Aebutianus, symbiotic savior

Liuva must rush at full sails, in winter, to Ajaccio's defense.

[Lugotorix]

The Ludovisi Tomb- Goths and Romans at War

Late Fall Turning to Winter 448 A.D.

Ermine were the worms of wolves. And so the tough life of the exile had made him cunning. Unable to be crushed, and with the low cunning of the worst of his ilk. But I wear the Ermine around my neck. He had survived worse than the whining of these cowards hiding in the murk of the Spanish night. These were the thoughts of Secundus Niger as his men quickened their pace through the icy rain, north of Caesaraugusta. There had been a storm, and no snaking lights to warn them of the Goths and their mercenaries the hill men’s approach, as Secundus had forced his men through the storm to reach Pompaelo.

Probinus was garrisoned in Caesaraugusta, their forces divided. The hooting of the Goths and Alemanni were heard in the bleak night, masked by the downpour of rain, and the blackness of the cold Iberian terrain. Yips, war-cries. The lightning would flash and the prow of a pike with animal coats on it would jut eerily into the night. The glass beads for eyes on the bust of a giant bear trophy, the black fur blue by night. The Bear-Sons. That worm had risked being detected by Probinus and circumvented the mountain from the hills. The mercenaries loyal to Hispania had said nothing of any planned ambush, and had not yet been levied in Pompaelo, where they were arriving northernly. They had expected Filimer to guard Tarragon, while Vithimiris attacked eventually, but none of this mucky mess.

Secundus nearly polluted himself. ‘Onwards. Faster!’ He had no horse, his guard was on foot, as they would panic and bolt in the night. Now the men were doing that themselves as they caught glimpses of glistening Ostrogothic scale armor running up the ridges, like some doom of black steel.

Then he heard shrill screams, the first charge of Alemanni horses making contact with the praeventores. ‘Form a square, by God.’ Secundus shouted, and the cornicularis gave sound to the order. The mounts of the Alemanni were not panicking in the dark rain, but were screaming, bringing the men to a stinking sweat as they halted, some vomiting, trying to find their bearings and wedge into a square on the ridge. Torches were lit, showing the enormity of the Gothic force marching onwards from the darkness. Many of the Alemanni were dressed in nothing but their skins and animal hides, even in the cold, and shone, shivering into a berserk charge in the rain. ‘Hold ready. Sagitarrius, now is the time for bravery, hold the center, and send your shot high, there is a host of prey for you to down!’

The archers fired wildly into the night air at abandon. Their trembling hands slipped and shivered on their notches and bows, the chainmail a heavy burden in this icy night, where their entire bodies were numb with the pain of it. Hail was among the rain, but it had no sting to it, the armor was just too cold.

The horsemen cometh

Filimer the exile was in the cuirass of the moon people, a gift from Liutprand for sparing him and having Tranquilus levy all two thousand of the mercenaries. His muscles were tense, and he yearned for the embrace of battle, where he would raise the soaked sword of Theoderic, and the rain would cleanse it of the blood of the first Roman he plunged it into. Four regiment of light horse, with javelins, that clattered off the shields of the Roman squares, as they whirled and launched them in the Parthian style.
Mercenary footsoldiers, who had marched under the flagrum of Filimer, until their backs would break, carrying the supplies and tents of the army, all for this ambush. Liutprand had not lied about the capabilities of these men, and now Tranquilus was a pauper of his new kingdom.

The howling of barbarian rage cut the night, and pikes poked in jabs while others charged mad into the enemy. The Alemanni were paying the real bill for this. Like a hidden adder under every blade of grass, the menace would haunt them for as long as they lived. Though victory, there was absolution from this debt, this threat.

The Ostrogothic pikes edged forward, making the Roman square cower back as the horsemen continued to harass them. Blood was a sully thing by night, as black as the sky above with no stars to guide their spirits to rest as the first died. Liutprand rode with his comrades, and urged them on to charge into the shields and trample the Romans in the mud, crush them like insects, he said.

Filimer slashed through the men closest to him, and raised his sword, ordering a charge of his Saiones. ‘Secundus Niger, I will have you hung, so die by our blades tonight or hang tomorrow.’ He roared. The warbands circled the Roman square. The Gothic archers were more numerous, and the Romans would need to kill the commander of the enemy, or have an epiphany of tactical genius to avoid decimation.

Filimer’s lust for battle was sated for a time, proving himself before Liutprand and the Alemanni. ‘Show them the trees!’ He cried, backing away from the edges of combat. Torches lit on a ridge in the distance, near a line of trees, illuminating hung mercenaries and scouts of Niger’s force. Secundus Niger now knew why he hadn’t learned of the Gothic approach this night. The mercenaries had been killed by their own people prior to the battle. They would never arrive in Pompaelo, and never defend Caesaraugusta.

The ambush continued for several hours. Filimer had retrieved a horse and watched the butchery from afar, instructing his torches to be set on the generals regiment of Secundus, exposing them to snipers who hid in the night. The yellow glow of the torches waved in the night. Some had fell on the ground. Gothic and Roman alike, and were extinguished, blinking out, either by the hot blood on the cold ground, or pools of ice and rain.

Secundus Niger growled and said, ‘Fetch me a horse. Protect your liege.’ A bullet from a sling struck the man to left, and a javelin pierced the man to his right. He made way for the horses in the center of his formation. A wild man danced death through the camp and bumped into Secundus. Secundus thought that was odd, as he watched the Alemanni warrior hacked to bits, and then felt something else than the numbness of his chainmail. He had been wounded. He marched onwards towards the horses, but felt lightheaded. With a stuttering step, he spilled to the ground. A pool of blood steamed in the cold around him. He whimpered and breathed mist in the cold. Blood trickled from his mouth, twisting in into a smirk as it froze. This would save him from hanging. ‘You worm.’ He whispered.

The next day, the sun was shining bleak in the sky, and the grim toll on the Hispanian army had become apparent. They were still being killed. With no survivors to warn Probinus of the tragedy that had befallen their forces and leader to the north. Secundus Niger hung from a tree, and Tranquilus rode on his horse calmly among the dead and dying on the ground. The men searched for survivors to silence, marching past Tranquilus.

He was poor now, but Filimer owed him a great fortune, should the kingdom endure and become prosperous. He had paid two thousand sesterces for the two thousand men, and they had fought as bravely as Liutprand had insisted, a worthwhile investment. He thought of his many sons in Burdigala, under Alemanni control. The High King Fastrada would be vengeful for having his own men, his own deserters, participate in a battle against the Hispanian governor’s army. He would learn of it, when word reach Tarragon, and then from Tarragon, to Toledo, where his son governed over Regnum Toletem, Clovis, prince of Carthaginensis. Tranquilus knew this could incite a war between Hispania, if they survived their four thousand dead here, and persisted as a kingdom, and the Alemanni. This would leave the Goths as the sole rival of the Alemanni other than the Maurians in the west.

He may be called to a trial, as the most important witness. But there were other, brighter things to look forward to. Probinus had been defeated before in Tarragon, and was now the sole adversary in Spain, other than Cincius in Asturica. Tranquilus had made himself and his family powerful figures in the new kingdom of Tarragon. He saw Filimer on foot, by a pile of burning bodies, and rode on his horse to speak with him. They would escape the north and the winter soon, and spend the winter in Tarragon, while the cost of the ambush became apparent to Probinus in Caesaraugusta. Runners had been sent south and would be arriving to tell Queen Goiswintha and Princess Chloe of the success here, that the city was delivered from harm. He could only hope Vandalarius had fared as well at Narbo.

‘The mercenaries were a sound bet.’ Tranquilus said to Filimer, smiling and patting his horse.

‘Shame I must have them disbanded, where I hope they will tell no Alemanni of their heroic deeds, last night.’ Filimer answered with a laugh, smiling. Princess Chloe would be joyous, at first, of the news. Valdamerca would be devastated when she learned of it across the sea. And Gaatha would be mortified.
‘Tranquilus.’ Filimer said, approaching the horse, and placing a hand on it’s neck. ‘I am too greatly in your debt.’ He beheaded the horse with the sword of Theoderic, and ran falling Tranquilus through.

He walked away from the bloody scene, the aghast lieutenants backing away and back towards the mercenaries, to convince them to enlist in the Gothic army. He had the numbers here, and now a price had been excused.

[seleucid empire]

Did Filimer just kill Tranquilius for almost no reason at all? What a nutjob...

[Zeion]

Intense updates, the plot thickens.

Great battle description and stunning images in the latest chapter. I like The Ambush as well, very believable scene and good background info. I think it is really cool how you manage lots of different characters where you also can see different personalities shining through.
Did I miss something or is your cast of characters list in the OP not up to date anymore?

Looking forward to more!

[Lugotorix]

Did Filimer just kill Tranquilius for almost no reason at all? What a nutjob...

He's a pragmatic barbarian through and through: That includes betrayal: I took a page from the R.E. Howard books with him. He has his motivations, but he wants to consolidate power foremost, and take credit for the victory in his new kingdom.

[Lugotorix]

Intense updates, the plot thickens.

Great battle description and stunning images in the latest chapter. I like The Ambush as well, very believable scene and good background info. I think it is really cool how you manage lots of different characters where you also can see different personalities shining through.
Did I miss something or is your cast of characters list in the OP not up to date anymore?

Looking forward to more!

It's not you, the cast of characters needs an update. I'll work on that tomorrow, thanks for reminding me! Thanks for your supportive words and encouragement. I've really been working on the characters after seeing nominations from Way of the Bow, Yokai, and other Shogun II AARs whose characters have depth.

[Lugotorix]

The Picts

Tranquilus, Rex Gallica was dead. His wailing widow cried for vengeance from God and Gaatha upon the head of Filimer. She appealed to Clotsuintha herself. But more importantly, she appealed to grandmother Goiswintha, the ancient queen of the Goths, who had outlived Trapstilicus.

When Filimer made his entrance in the court of Tarragon, he was greeted by the expression of Goiswintha that she was longer for this world than him, a worm that couldn't fit in the ground. He was above few things, but killing very old woman, and the Queen of Vithericus was one of them.

The victory over Secundus Niger did not last long for Filimer. Several number of Tranquilus’ men were decimated, to maintain the integrity of the Bear Sons, as they rushed back to the safety of Tarragon. They were given clean deaths, but the act had caused fear in the mercenaries who had stayed on, with the dead king and counselor to Trapstilicus paying their wages in an established contract. The official story would be that Tranquilus had perished in combat.

The word reaching Tarraconensis was devastating. Princess Chloe was very hurt by the news, because her friend Valdamerca in Constantinople would be viewed as a further threat to Filimer, now that her observer that ensured he remained a general loyal to the empire was removed. This further upset relations not only with the city of Burdigala, Bordeaux, but it’s lord, Fastrada, whose son had previously warned his father to nip the Gothic survivors in the bud, and crush them when they reached the shores of Tarragon.

Prince Clovis’ deserters were now working for a foreign power, one hostile to Hispania and Rome, their allies. This put a price on the heads of the mercenaries, and putting the upstart kingdom to the sword to end the business of Elphrat, King of the Huns, who kept northern Italy subdued, was becoming a tempting prospect.

Most in Tarragon suspected that Tranquilus was the only one wealthy enough to afford the Alemanni mercenaries that returned to the city with the army, and with Trapstilicus’ advisor and envoy for Valdamerca his daughter removed, most of the Saiones knew that Gaatha’s life would be in danger if not for the value of her son Vandalarius’ victory and pact with Gaius.

Filimer’s response to Roman sentiment regarding the death of Tranquilus was quick. He expelled any Roman from his court who raised the question even once, and warned Gaius Aebutianus to march back from the cities borders for Narbo, where he would not be attacked, by not one, but two armies, he reminded the governor of Massalia.

Guitifrida knew better than to attribute Tranquilus’ death to combat, as he led from the rear, when she learned the news in the Pictish winter camp in Narbonensis. This Filimer was becoming an untrue Christian, and with Vithimiris the pagan as his commanders, stalled in Tarragon as he was, the Gothic kingdom was getting off to an unrighteous start.

The Picts were allies of the Caledonians north of Hadrian’s wall in what was now Dal Riada. Their society was matriarchal, and they worshipped pagan gods What had started as a great conspiracy against the Roman occupation of Britain, had progressed to the Caledonians being granted lands in Augusta Trevorum as foederati, during the collapse of the Romano-Gothic empire that had replaced the old order of the Western Empire. Now the Celts, Ebdanians, Ulaid, Caledonians and Picts, the painted men of yore, trespassed over the destruction wrought by the Huns in subjugating the west. They searched for fertile pastures as winter approached, and Narbonensis was in their sights.

With the Bastarnians threatening Ajaccio, Filimer was forced to surrender his gains in Tarraconensis, and double back to the coast to deal with the Celtic threat, which after raiding Ajaccio, settled on Narbo, and Gaius of Septimania. Gaius called to Filimer for aid, and when it didn’t arrive, he was furious, and considered Filimer no friend to the Romans, a man who only wanted to consolidate power. Gaius had both fought against and served under Tranquilus, and was as angry as anyone that Filimer had excused his own debt and the debt of the Goths, to the mercenaries.

Among those already intent on collecting the bounty set forth by the Huns, was Adbitos, the black-bearded high king of the Picts from the Kingdom of Fotla. This turned the friaress Guitifrida’s mission from one of conversion and the word of Christ to the Celtic pagans, to encouraging mutiny, and the betrayal of Adbitos, to force peace with the Picts south of Bordeaux.
She had converted a mormaer chieftain of the Picts named Sennes to Christianity as well as many of his household, and in the early winter, among the dead trees where the camp stood, she spoke with one of his pages, Oengus. He had abandoned his brooch and chains out of piety, and his armor, and wore a musty frock and skull cap that could barely contain dirty long brown hair.

‘Mormaer Senntes and Adbitos of Fotla will be marching on Narbo. The winter is too cold for our boats to be assembled. We have hired the ships to return the Romans and the true Latin Church to power in Ajaccio, but we dare not amass and armada to be a target for that sea wolf Liuva. Senntes has marched forward, but he knows not what your Gothic master Filimer plans for Gaius Aebutianus.’

‘See to it that Adbitos never meets with your master. Give him to God and leave a second smile on that black beard of his for me to bury.’ Guitifrida said. Bringing the Picts in line with the churches teaching was worth many prices, even the removal of certain pagans from the earth. Senntes would make a fine Christian leader, and she would then approach him with gestures of peace and land from Filimer, starting with their target Narbo, should it fall into Gothic hands.

‘I have already.’ Answered Oengus. ‘We must be on horses soon, us and the thousand other Christians in the camp.’
Guitifrida was a bit surprised. ‘What have you done, Oengus?’ She asked.

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Dust and cries of pain rose from the hut where Adbitos was quartered. Light flowed in from the grey day into the shade of the hut where bodies lay, some bloodied, some bashed, some still squirming as Adbitos men stabbed them as they were dying with their guardsmen spears. Adbitos reached for his shoulder and broke the haft of an arrow. He rose to his feet. Blood dribbled from a knife wound at his side. One of his guards rushed to help him stand, telling his liege to keep still until the wounds could be treated. He cursed and pushed the guard away, walking from the hut into the clear day. His wounded bloodshot eyes surveyed the camp for signs of violence. There were none. Horses being tended to, dogs being trained and fed, and his own soldiers running in the direction of his camp.

The morale of his troops had never been lower. They were looking at the prospect of a winter in a land stalked by plague within range of Gaius, who would be warm by the fires of the hearths of Narbo, and the Bastarnian fleets returning to land for the winter, the Huns not far across Liguria. There had been a mutiny. And one thing the assailants had in common was the crucified man, their savior. He thought immediately of Mormaer Senntes who had been entranced by that cult. A man emerged from the hut, and informed Adbitos. ‘Mormaer Adbitos. The killers wore the sign of the Christ-god. By Smertios, the hypocrites.’

He shouted to the approaching soldiers, answered the man who had just approached him. ‘Indeed I know already! Bring me Senntes, and that cold consort of the Goths. They will answer for this.’

THE COURT OF THE ALAMANS IN BORDEAUX

‘Killing the soldiers of Hispania with our own men. You’ve heard it yourself, father.’ Chlodovech called Clodovicus said to his father, high King Fastrada upon his throne.
‘Captain Liutprand renounced my authority when he and his band wandered off into those hills north of Tarragon. From your own failings, Clodovicus. They’re paid killers, not Alamans.’ Fastrada answered. He wouldn’t abandon peace which had endured for over fifty years with the two most powerful groups to displaced Roman authority collapse in an instant.
‘The killers of the man who once sat upon your very throne, or have you not heard!’ Clovis said. He had always been war-like. Who were the Goths, who had lost an empire, to set foot near Cartena, and his kingdom in Spain. He would have Hunctbert his man in Carthaginenis collect the Hunnic bounty himself once his father had rolled over and yielded to his young son, as he always did, one way or another. The man was almost sixty years of age.

This time Fastrada would not yield to the demands of his southern domain. The Goths were no threat to the Alemanni in Gaul, where the majority of their cities were placed. Tarragon was a trade port. And if the Huns ever broke their pact and moved further west, the Goths would be the ones dying in it’s defense, and the Romans at Narbo, not the Alamans. Filimer was a barbaric brute of a man, but he had not yet made a nuisance of himself. He had not yet taken Caesaraugusta or Pompaelo. Probinus had assumed command of the Hispania legions, taking on many Roman deserters who fled the ire of Filimer, including those who had broken immediately from the legio of Vandalarius upon learning of Tranquilus’ death.

Probinus now outnumbered the Bear Sons at Caesaraugusta by one hundred men. Fastrada would instruct him to hold firm, and not give an inch to Filimer, but would not aid in a march on Tarragon.
He told his son as much, who then stormed from the room. He had promises of his own, to his Hunnic partners. Who after-all had kept the Alemanni out of the war between the Gothic empire and Attila, but Clodovicus. His people had survived and weathered the storm of the Great Kan Attila through his leadership, not his father’s.

Constantinople





Mother Gaatha, matters are well in God’s city of Constantinople. The war effort has been delayed by victories of the former Eastern Empires legions which has had a resurgence in Syria and Egypt. I have heard that Tranquilus, the friend of my father has perished in battle. He has been reporting to me of Filimer’s ambition since the beginning of the conflict with Hispania. I have not trusted the man since he betrayed my father and tried to advance the date of the armada. Tranquilus was a loyal servant and a true Roman and I mourned missing his funeral. It is of great importance that you trust not to the page or handmaiden, nor the baths, and join me here in the Equestrian’s prized city. I have heard rumors of the fate of the father of Filimer, and although I have no time for such fables, Filimer may be seduced by them if it meets his own ends.
Our Domitian cousins have given me instruction in the art of writing and counting, as well as the use of the horse which in the staplehand of any man of Illyricum. I have been reading over the histories of Vithericus and even the history of our people before the battle of Adrianople. This letter has traveled as far as our people!
The Roman governors of Dacia have succumbed to the Huns, though they have no strength remaining from the sacrifice north of Rome to march on the east. Guitifrida writes me as well, and has told me that she has fled the company of the Picts whose assault on Narbo will no doubt be confronted by Filimer. They have broken into two camps, one that trust in our lord savior.
Is it true that Vandalarius plans to wed? I fear I’ve lost a friend, but gained an education, and trust that he is well after his assistance of my father’s servant Gaius. I’m glad he has put his younger affairs with the women of the pagan isles to rest, and will respect anything that is ordained by the church, as are the instructions of Guitifrida, though even standing in marvel of the Hagia Sophia, built in the architecture of harmony, I cannot help but think that there is more to the science of the Greeks than worldly troubles, for the advancement of the lives that follow us when we are at rest.
The gifts sent from the Domitians in Constantinople are for the people of Tarragon and Caralis, and not the lords, so be generous with their dispersal. I hope the salts and dye have found you well, and try the plum fragrance, it’s fabulous.
Yours, Countess Valdamerca of Ancona

The Ongoing fight For Survival

Adbitos survived the attempt on his life with a great vengeance. He was unsure whether the Gothic priestess was working for Gaius, or Filimer, but he advanced his campaign on Gaius and Narbo in the early winter months. A siege was ringed around the city. Gaius did not sally forth to meet the Picts, despite nearly equal numbers, having confidence that Filimer would return from his relief from the Bastarnians, and end the siege, sending the Picts back into the winter to which they were so accustomed. True enough, Filimer and the Bear Sons, with the mercenaries of Liutprand march along the coast and confronted the Pictish army under the leadership of the wounded Adbitos. With him were hundreds of warhounds and their masters. They attacked Filimer before he could approach Narbo, hungry for the reward that could sustain his people through the winter.

[Lugotorix]

THE BATTLE OF NARBO

The wild Celts had proved their mettle once before in the great conspiracy against Roman rule in Britain, and now that they were overthrown, tried to prove it once more. Sheltered from the Hunnic onslaught, the Celts only advanced, sometimes encouraged, as with the Caledonians.

With Narbo secured, most of eastern Gaul would belong to the Caledonians. Others would follow. Already the Irish were pirating and raiding the shores of Gascony and the Aquitaine. Soon they would seek the plunder from the Roman towns that remained, swelling with immigrants, refugees, and the riches they had been forced to give up for safe passage.

Senntes had absconded with the Christians in the Pict horde, and his location was unknown. Adbitos resolved to deal with him after the Romans and their rich city.

The Pictish army was two parts axe and sword wielding berserkers, and one part Mormaer cavalry, all devotees of Smertios and Morrigan, goddess of war and death. They carried a wild stance as they made their way from the battlements of the siege to confront the Gothic army. They were known to fight better by dark, and in ambushes, but far from any elevation they wouldn’t be able to make use of either that day. They had confronted the army when it had chose to approach, and Adbitos had reasoned it was best to fight Roman and Goths while they were divided, quarreling over the land dispute, though he hadn’t heard of Tranquilus’ demise.

Filimer watched from far away, on the outskirts of the city of Narbo, where he could retreat if the battle was lost, while Vandalarius led the Saiones. The city had been cleared of civilians, and lay on the hazy horizon. Any snow that had fell earlier in the season was gone, and the Gothic army was filled with the Palatina of Gaius Aebutianus.

The Alemanni themselves, those who kept the secret from the aftermath of the battle, had been made Saiones for their service at the ambush of Caesaraugusta, and were giving the best armoring the Goths had available in Tarragon, the finest steel, and two handed rhomphaia that they trained in before making the march northeast. Those who were experts at horsemanship were given lances and rode far and wide of the Pictish infantry as it took the field, to the east, and the city.

There was a slight numerical advantage to the Picts, with many of the fighting age men in Narbo refusing to fight for the killer of Tranquilus. The Picts charged once they grew near to the range of the elite Gothic archers, not wanting to give the lancers any more time to expose their flanks. What spears they had faced the east, and the line of horses. The charge was disorderly, Vandalarius noted. These berserkers of Morrigan defended themselves with bucklers, but made no attempt to shield themselves from arrows, and charged out of rank, with their swords held high in the air, as if invoking this heathen god of death in the attack.

Taunts in Latin and German gave way to the roaring chants of the berserkers who met the pikes. Their reddish hair and bodies tattooed, or dyed with woad were virtually unknown to the Goths. Thankfully, the air was dry and crisp, so the rank was less.

Those taunting the invaders were silenced by their bravery. ‘Arma Gibral!’ Present arms. They cried to the men far behind them. Gaelic warcries filled the air as the charge crashed against the double line of elite pikes. ‘forte stei.’ The pike line answered. The pikes had been formed in one advancing row to the west, and one arraigned beneath it in a fold so that when the first line of berserkers were met, none would make it through the second easterly line, which would hold them in place while the palatine advanced from the rear.

As the Picts were short in the use of spears, save for the masters of the warhounds they brought to the field, Vandalarius could charge from the front as the situation demanded, and then call the horses back and apply pressure to any cracks in the front line.

The black blades of Scot steel soon clashed with those of the Romans, including Gaius, who entered with manipular tactics that had beaten the Celt cousins of the Picts, the Gauls, hundreds of years ago. The Taifali riders began to fire their bows and slash down the odd desperate man who left the pit of the battle. These rider were all of Vandalarius’ men, most of them older than him. Not a single Taifali man in Tarragon had stayed behind.

The Romans and pikes stave off the first charge

The Mormaer Adbitos rode a white horse with a gilded bronzed bridle and mask, and was accompanied by light horse. He tried to make way across the backs of the Palatina, but was met by Roman Equites Promoti. The brief fight saw the general’s regiment prevail, but his army was suffering heavy casualties. Their leather couldn’t withstand the piercing swords of the Roman troops.

Liutprand was on foot and had just sent the head of a axe warrior flying, when he heard the ground tremble and the sound of clattering fitted hooves. Whatever defiance remained in these brave fools, it would soon be terrorized out of them.

Once the lancers crashed into the right flank, heads rolled. Panic broke out as they saw the expertise of the mercenaries of Liutprand. The Palatina butchered the black blades and berserkers with typical Roman discipline.

As the general’s regiment of light horse tried to enter the battle from behind, Vandalarius’ riders fell in after them, weighing more, but fresh from Narbo.

The black-bearded Mormaer was pursued by Vandalarius, and pierced through the heart by a lance. His horse dragged under his weight, and fell before the battlefield. His men who were fleeing saw their commander brought down, and spread the word.

A route ensued, and where the Roman and Gothic lines had pushed forward, the crack infantry to the east, beyond the pike wall, those who broke fell back into the pikes to the west, who showed them no mercy.

There was no mercy for the Pictish wounded either. The Romans were ordered to kill them. Gaius hesitated, and was going to refuse, but he gave in to the wisdom that any who were set loose would join the Irish and Caledonians who came after them, or any future Celtic hordes trespassing in the region. Filimer had kept some of his force within the city, while the Romans had rushed out to join in it’s defense. Those who would not fight for a Gothic King, were put to the sword. The guard towers were seized. And the walls barred to the returning Romans.

After the battle, Filimer betrayed Gaius Aebutianus and took control of Narbo. Liuva did not know what to make of the signs leading his fleet towards the city. The Bastarnians were nearby and it would be foolish to dock. When he arrived he saw signs of a double-cross and capitulation of the city from Gaius, whose whereabouts were unknown.

Vandalarius was furious. He had fought alongside the Roman Palatina, and Gaius had been loyal to Trapstilicus and Gesalec. The men had come to an understanding, and now he, and his Taifali knights, were villains among the people. Liutprand and the mercenary Saiones saw no trouble with the move as it only elevated their position. Like the undisciplined boy that he was, he broke rank and stayed on one of Liuva’s boats for the night after the battle, together with some of the elder Taifali. Valdamerca would have pleaded with him to report to Narbo, but she wasn’t there, nor his mother Gaatha. She would be in danger. The problem with Filimer, he reasoned was not that he was unpredictable, but that he was predictably power hungry and narcissistic.

Gaius was his ally, and Filimer had not even fought in the battle outside the city. The battle had also been costly. The Romans were fighting for their freedom, and it had been snatched from them in the victorious effort. The Gothic dead were numerous as well, with many Taifali fallen. This move would gain them more Roman enemies in the Orient, including Valdamerca’s protectors, though few with standing armies other than Hispania remained in the west.

He took Olivia aboard the boat and told her that he was steamed and that this would probably be the last time he would see Valdamerca, or her. Something in his gut told him not to trust Filimer with the conquered. Filimer had promised that the city would not be looted, and it's people untouched, but he was acquiring an unhealthy knack for eliminating charismatic leaders.

Fear settled in on Narbo, as Filimer’s army stayed for the night. He would move on Caesaraugusta and Probinus next. He would follow them past their capital of Pompaelo, if it meant securing his kingdom.

All of Tarraconensis would be theirs, he assured Vandalarius, before the man left the field on his horse.

A thorn now jutted from the side of Iberia, under Gothic control. Clodovicus would suffer this no longer. He readied his soldiers. Filimer, Vandalarius, Probinus, and Clovis made ready for war.

[Lugotorix]

PART II: The Kingdom of TARRAGON

Spain at Large

Winter covered the playing board that was Spain. The Gothic army camped in Narbo, and made the Romans vow to serve Filimer as High King. His title was the first of the Balti kings of Tarragon. Guitifrida left Senntes who had escaped the disaster that had befallen his former master, Mormaer Adbitos. He was now in control of the Pictish hordes south of the Rhone, and took a more passive stance to the fledgling kingdom. With Tranquilus gone, Filimer abandoned any illusion of returning power to Valdamerca. Some even suspected that he would invalidate the line of Clotsuintha.

After the death of Secundus Caesulenus Niger, Probinus was let off the hook. He had no obligations to the old order of Anatolius Labienus, which he had previously betrayed. The provincial governors of Pompaelo, Caesaraugusta, and Asturica designated him to be protector of the realm. Their first issue was reigning in the power hungry exile, Filimer the Balti.
Vandalarius took leave, and joined Witigis and Princess Chloe aboard his brother Liuva’s fleet docked at Narbo for the winter. Lycurgus Luca the Tarantine, who had assumed command of the Romans at Narbo joined them. He was one of Sulla’s men who had turned during Gaius’ insurrection, and had become an acquaintance of Vandalarius when the two armies had travelled back to the walls of Tarragon, when Vithimiris had led those lonely days.

He was guilty sick with the oath to Filimer, and wanted to discuss Vandalarius’ disenchantment with the leader. Liuva had spent many months at sea, sending the Bastarnians to the bottom of sea of Provence and was as sick of war as anyone. He had scars on his arms now, from briny ropes and hooks used to board the Bastarnian transports that harassed Ajaccio. He had a distinguishing scar that ran up of the ridges of his forehead, that had melted into a disfigurement in the hot sun of the Mediterranean. Vandalarius was the soldier, and his half-brother looked the harder of the two.

Lycurgus was as true a roman as any man, with a hawks nose and a hawks eyes, pale gray, with salted hair, and was now the governor of Narbo. Gaius was believed to have been killed in one of the more rustic parts of Narbonensis, though no-one could be sure. It was rarely known who presided over the rebels who raided the coastal villages and border with Elusa and Burdigala.

‘Our would be king has decided to march with Vandalarius, the cousin of Vithimiris, Gundulf’s son, on Probinus, should he cross the border. His head’s thicker than an ox.’ Vandalarius said. The boat they were on rocked in shale like ice of the near shore that clustered on the docks. Snow covered the pier.

‘And as flexible as a weasel. He puts his money as well as his sword where his mouth is. My pockets are richer, but they can't help me anymore than a camel through the eye of a needle should he continue his trend of Gothic dictatorship.’ Lycurgus laughed, his lips shaking in the cold.

‘To his power.’ Witigis said contrary, walking amidst flurries on the side of the boat, no stranger to the hardship of the Baltic. ‘Try to bend him away from it, and you will break. Grinded into dust. Cousin Theobald will learn that soon.’ He paced some more, sliding his hand on the railing of the boat, trying to warm his hands. ‘Orcus taught me a lesson in straying from his grasp, Luca.’ He was speaking of the Burgundian commander who hunted the Goths when they had started their exile. He had been unable to force anything more than a skirmish from Filimer, who kept to his goals. Fights he could win, and a legend that could be gardened to proportions these educated folk could handle. ‘

Vandalarius and Liuva looked up, alarmed. Vandalarius asked what had happened.
‘He had me in Caralis, this past summer. We had a lot of Duccian rebels being brought to the block. He lectured me about Duccius making a mistake of trusting the past over the future, but in a chiding way, as if referring to your mother Vandalarius. Lord, Orcus has always been a beast, but I’ve never seen him as strong as when he lifted the block all the way to the tower in Caralis, where Lady Gaatha was quartered.’

‘He’s smart. My mother is not easily intimidated.’ Vandalarius grumbled.

‘No, he’s vengeful. His father was punished by Vithericus. Let him chew on grand-mothers cooking, as we’ll see how strong and smart he is. A bull dies of it’s injuries before it’s pain.’ The Princess said, looking around herself suspiciously for any eavesdroppers.

'You didn't let me finish. Once intimidated, she's angry. And as the civil war of Gaul taught us with the pagans, her anger can be quite a spectacle. Why, I'm missing half an ear.' Vandalarius said.


‘Keep that to yourself Chlotsuintha. We’re years away from a petition of grievances nonetheless removing him from office.’ Lycurgus said. ‘ I can’t believe I bowed the knee. I asked to speak man to man with him, but he trusts in numbers for his abuse. Gaius was betrayed. Which makes me think the same of Tranquilus. Gesalec never tried to bend what the years of the Empire had taught the world. Eutharic did, and look at him.’

Vandalarius looked at him strangely and said. ‘A fairy from a kitchen souk in Bet Girgis or a Hinchin house in Timbuktu killed Tranquilus, as we all know.’ He looked down queasily. There were no dangers here at sea. Their voices did not carry as far as the palace, Gaius’ palace in Narbo. He meant to emphasis the dangers of accusing the High King of any foul play, in case one of Liuva’s sailors was a mole. 'What white-tail game will I choose tonight to forget this trouble and Valdamerca.' He said softly, amiss.
‘It’s not Filimer’s love of consolidating power that worries me.’ Lycurgus answered. ‘ It’s that power corrupts men like him into men like Eutharic, and he already has bigger stones and muscles than poor Eutharic. He has a son and wife to protect, named after the boy.’

Filimer was not a fully malignant ruler. His iron rule made it easier for taxes to be set at a standard normal rate, something Gesalec and Trapstilicus had pushed higher in the collapse, and giving the rights to the mercenaries, allowed him to disband their mercenary contracts. He didn’t hate or fear the Romans. He just wanted to install local leaders that were loyal to his new order. This no doubt infuriated Clovis, but made for a better transition. The employment of men like Lycurgus ensured that the Romans were granted a degree of sovereignty, and he ruled in Narbo only in name. Liuva was called back to defend the pagan isles, and the city remained Roman in character and it’s garrison. To prevent rebellion, he paid Lycurgus with what he had confiscated from Tranquilus and Gaius. Tranquilus’ widow became a good friend of the queen Goiswintha. It was amazing how much one would let their ear rot off, if gaining favor.
Filimer had a brief clash with a Burgundian horde under Theobald and Roderic, seeking Elphrat’s bounty in January of 449. Witigis was forced to partake in the front of the battle. Lycurgus the Tarantine joined forces to show that Narbo’s contributions had to be respected. Then Filimer turned south to take the oath from the Romans in the lands between Narbonensis and Tarragon. He arrived in Vithimiris’ city without fanfare and called the retainers one by one to pledge their loyalty to his new kingdom. He had an obstacle to remove first. Filimer was growing frustrated with the patrols of Clovis not recognizing his borders. They trespassed as they willed from Cartena and Toletum.

Also in the spring of 449, Probinus crossed the border into Filimer’s domain. Again, the Romans outnumbered the Goths, but Filimer relied instead on the fortitude of his pikes in the second battle of Tarragon. He had the advantage in the number of onagers he fielded, and he set them up on a hill.

He goaded Probinus into leaving his fort, and attacking in the countryside. The Gothic lines were defensive, and they taunted an attack from Probinus by shifting their formation many times. The Comes of Probinus led from the rear, but once his Praeventores were in range, the Gothic archers began raining down in four lines behind a long thin line of pikes. The rolling of the wheels of the giant onagers made the ground tremble. For the first time, Filimer chose to win a battle by attrition.

Vithimiris would hold the core of the army, while Filimer himself led a foot charge to lure the enemy Comes onto the field. Filimer had an immense amount of time to spare, and no shortage of ammunition so close to the supply lines from Tarragon, so when the soldiers of Hispania would attempt to break the lines of pikes, some conscripts, he would order his onagers to fire, sometimes at will, without any guidance, directly over the advancing lines of Romans. This instilled fear, and the impression that Filimer would not be moved.

Filimer took at javelin to the shield in one of his advances, but charged on nonetheless with his bruised arm. The arrows of the Romans began falling in the sand before him, and he then decided, with a terrified Vithimiris behind him, a Roman lance planted straight into the back of his shield, that the battle would be met.

The Roman onagers let loose, and Cincius Probinus decided that he would win the day or die fighting, under the fire of his own arrows and sling bullets. Somewhere on the field he was crushed under the numbers of the Goths, along with his horse. He was captured in his wounded state, and did not receive his wishes. He was taken back to Tarragon, and Guitifrida was sent north to demand the surrender of Hispania.

Vandalarius the cousin of Vithimiris was instructed to take Caesaraugusta, with the destruction of the Roman army. Again, Filimer allowed the surviving Romans to transfer authority of their tents to Filimer, which decreased the loyalty and integrity of his force as a whole.
Caesaraugusta was occupied in March of 449. Watching on the nearby mountainside was an Alemanni force of Clodovicus. They watched the occupation of the city and then after shouting between eachother, turned and marched back towards Toletum. Their presence had been ominous, and over the coming days, the patrols of the Goths were stalked by Alemanni bands. What was stalling them from making contact eluded Filimer, on his throne in Tarragon, so he instructed a diplomat, Matheus to go to the court of Fastrada and seek explanation, as well as bind the people in non-aggression.

Vandalarius the pagan told the governor of Caesaraugusta at his mercy that it was more a change in governance. The fibulae of the Gothic kingdom was raised over the city. The governors of Pompaelo, Asturica, and Toletum would hear the demands of the priestess Guitifrida. Their power was centered around Pompaelo and with the mountains blocking the east and no more north, an end to the war was needed.
The Goths in Tarragon celebrated news of the victory. It wasn’t only a deliverance of the city, but also an expansion of their territory, where they could settle far from the cramped city. Those with the plague from the pagan isles had been quarantined, and many had wondered when they would be free of disease that could stalk the city over a matter of days, as full with travelers as it was. The Romans would be as hospitable as the King demanded for the Goths who had at one time feared to leave the walls of the port.

Word was sent that the captivity of Cincius Probinus continued, and one day he asked to speak to a jailor. The jailor questioned him as to why the Alemanni were remaining so aloof. Probinus asked what had become of his beloved city Caesaraugusta. In his spite, the jailor had lied to him and told him that it was put to the sword, it’s people enslaved. Perhaps out of spite of his own, Probinus answered that that had sealed their fate even with Fastrada by moving north and taking Caesaraugusta.

Matheus was asked to confront Fastrada at Bordeaux with these allegations as well as an offer from Filimer to help in the war against the Maurians, in exchange for non-aggression.

[Alwyn]

Dramatic and impressive battles with great images! The pikemen, archers, artillery and cavalry of the Romano-Gothic Empire sound like a powerful combination. I wonder if Filimer's pragmatism will help him to consolidate power in his new kingdom or earn him enemies.

[Zeion]

Wew, the Battle of Narbo - carnage.
Impressive battles indeed. Looks like the Ostrogoths will be able to get a foothold in Spain and rebuild their empire there?
Considering the year is ~450 AD, this is a really epic tale. Normally campaigns are over by then already - but this seems just about to start really.

Also, congrats for 15k views!

[Lugotorix]

ODOTHEUS

In the city of Tarragon, helper to a mason, born in Italy in the Fall of 444 A.D. was a bright young five year old boy with very downy light blonde hair with all the energy in the world. He had been born just a year after the death of Attila the Hun to a Galswintha, a commoner, the daughter of a Roman and a Vandal.
Even at his young age, he was obsessed with architecture and the engineering of settlements, aqueducts, sewers and latrines, baths and houses, churches and cathedrals.
The boy was talkative and plucky, and would help this mason, Avidius with all of the chores in the stone quarry district of Tarragon. The man specialized in marble, and day by day the boy would carry tile by tile, the floors of the palaces of the city. His mother Galswintha had given him to Avidius to be trained in something that he could make a trade out of. There had always been a question, as to what was in the arrangement for Avidius, but most people who knew the boy and his mother believed that Galswintha was the mistress of the mason.
It was now the fall season, near the boy’s birthday and the piazzas and courtyards were red and orange with leaves. It was a beautiful day. On this one day, as a gift for becoming five, he was ordered to run an errand, for the construction of the High King’s palace in Tarragon. He ran through the palatine district, jumping with happiness, with the letter he had been instructed to give to a very important man, Vithimiris, the illegitimate son of Gundulf and Governor of Tarragon.

Odotheus had never known his father, and he figured that beyond the stature of the person he would get to deliver the letter to for Avidius, he might be able to speak of what it was like growing up without a father. Vithimiris had lived in the house of his mother, a pagan, when Eraric, the other son of Gundulf, was favored, before he had passed away. Odotheus’ mother was different, she had been forced to bear the child, after being ravished.

Vithimiris was standing by the foundations of a new palace. The boy, Odotheus hadn’t read the contents of his master’s letter, but hoped it would please the governor. It was stamped with the seal of his master’s mint.

‘Vithimiris, sir!’ He said running up to Vithimiris, who was standing with Chlotuinsitha and Witigis, who were becoming quite inseparable. The two were discussing the upcoming defense of Narbo from Theobald, the second of his attacks, who wanted to seize the city as concrete proof of reward of the Burgundian service to the Huns.
This time the city was defended by the navy of Liuva, and he had ballistae on board that could punish the invaders from the sea as they tried to make their way to the walls. This was grown up talk to Odotheus, but the Princess was pretty, so his mission was going well already.

‘Urchin.’ Muttered Vithimiris, directing workers with his hands to resume work on a fountain in the center of the construction site of the palace. The rock dust in the air couldn’t be good for the little boy, Chlotsuintha worried.

‘Where are your parents, my little hero?’ Chlotsuintha asked.
‘Your highness.’ The boy bowed. Well mannered and exceptionally verbal for his age. ‘My mother Galswintha is drying my clothes. I must speak to Vithimiris. I work for Avidius the monumental mason.’

‘A monumental mason. I’m thrilled.’ Witigis said, laughing. ‘Give here Avidius’ letter.’ He said to the boy.
The boy Odotheus refused. He shook his head. ‘Vithimiris, sir!’ He shouted, impatiently.

‘What do you want boy, do you want to be put to the quarries?’ Vithimiris said loudly back to him.
‘I already work in the quarries.’ The boy said stubbornly.

‘I suppose you’ll ride there on a well sired horse.’ Witigis answered. ‘And give me that letter, we have work to do here.’
Chlotsuintha put her hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder, and told him to entertain the child. He hushed said ‘ The letter’s not real, he wants a gratuity.’ Then gave in to the Princess’ advice and spoke:

Witigis grinned. ‘Very well. If you work in the quarries, here’s a chisel. Break me out that nail, boy.’ He beckoned to a nail planted in dolomite. It looked unmovable.
Odotheus grabbed the chisel, wedged it under the nail, and kicked the chisel at the base of it. ‘I don’t ride a horse, I ride a pony.’ He said, a bit annoyed with the adult.
Even Chlotsuintha couldn’t help but laugh at that one. A boy of his age and geniture, riding a pony. How ridiculous. Witigis didn’t look amused. He looked skeptically at the boy, fetching the nail for him. ‘Governor. Get your arse over here.’ He shouted.

Vithimiris handed some papers in his hands to the nearest worker and walked to the three of them. Guards crept from the construction site around the boy. ‘Give me that.’ He snatched the letter from Odotheus.
‘The boy’s not lying afterall. It’s a bid for a statue of your grandfather, Chlotsuintha. To be planted right at the top of this fountain.’ Vithimiris said. ‘Right then. Here’s some coin, boy. Be off on your way.’ He reached for his coin-purse.
Chloe smiled. And patted the boy on his shoulder. Most boys would have died then, but this one didn’t take kindly to her mean boyfriend.
Witigis waved a hand at Vithimiris, and then pointed at the boy, shaking his head nervously.

‘This was my birthday! I wanted to meet you, lord Vithimiris.’ Odotheus said, upset.
‘I have something better in mind. And I think Avidius the mason did too.’ Witigis answered.
Odotheus stomped his foot, handing him the nail.
‘How would you like to meet your father, my Balti child, Odotheus.’ Witigis asked.

Filimer was angry for being disturbed with Kriemhild, when they brought word of the bid for the statue, but when it was suggested that his wife, Kriemhild leave the palace chambers, he knew it was serious.
As usual, he summoned his guards, and expected a coup. A statue of the husband of ancient Goiswintha would be the perfect occasion for such treachery.

Chloe knew Filimer wouldn’t like the idea of a statue of Vithericus Vandalarius. He was the Amali legend, and Filimer was the Balti upstart. The boy would want to meet young Eutharic the heir first. He needed a companion other than his cousins by line of the house of Vandalarius. He and Vithmiris briefly quarreled over the statue being of Vithericus and not Filimer, the blind High Judge who had perished at Aquileia. But more than that, their attention was focused on Eutharic and Odotheus playing in the courtyard. Odotheus, at five years of age was older, and he already had a trade. Young Eutharic was frail. If he did not survive the coming winters, who would assume the line of Filimer’s legacy?

The pony, ridden from the workshop of Avidius on errands, had been a gift from his father to Galswintha, who had never expected anything would come of the boy. But now that he had worked his way into service of the court, he might be useful. Filimer knew the boy was his, because Galswintha hadn’t seen the company of another man before or since. The boy had been known as the stoneblock bastard to Witigis, though there would be no further talk of that now. Such was the jealousy and protectiveness of the High King.

The Shores of Narbo

With the death of Adbitos. The Picts had forged a frontier in Narbonensis that would be exploited by the Burgundians of Theobald. The had no further aims in Italy, with the south still pledging loyalty to the Duccian dynasty, and paying tribute to the Huns. Their capital was in Tarentum, the largest city still standing in Italy. Rome was nothing but a ruin, and Milan was the haunt of the Bastarnians. Only the west and the edge of the world at Lusitania had yet to submit to the Huns and their vassals.

The Burgundians came from the east, in a heavy march. Spear masters. It would be a long way into the city from the edge of the coast, where the entrance lay. They would fall under sniper fire of the hail of arrows from the Sagitarii loyal to the Roman governor. Vandalarius, the cousin of Vithimiris was garrisoned there, waiting for the Burgundians.

Mist obscured the ships of Liuva in the bay. Saiones Lycurgus Luca wore a green crest on his helmet. His cuirass had been freshly polished and he was excited for about defending the eastern front. The earth tones of his troops gave no indication to the crimson mess and flames that would soon wash over the settlement.

Theobald had unsuccessfully tried to take the city when Filimer had camped there, and now he would attempt again, without Witigis the traitor to obstruct his effort.
The Ballistae aboard Liuva’s ships made their presence known by igniting the burden of their onagers and sending them flaming into the air, falling on the dense formation of approaching Burgundians.

The Sagitarii manned the walls of the inner high hill, and began firing at the first Burgundians who approached. They shouted that the only true king of the Burgundians now was whipped and tamed Witigis. It was a shame, they said, that he wasn’t here to witness the annihilation of his wayward people.

Roman Praeventores rushed to the breach along the walls to keep the Germans from entering. ‘Have at it, you barbarian slaves of Avarius the Hun!’ They shouted. The bullets of the slingers had been inscribed with the writing. ‘For the Huns.’ Even though the enemy was Burgundian, so convinced of their convictions that the northern folk were agents of the hordes.
Leves armatures began throwing their javelins deep into the enemy lines. Avarius had commanded these Burgundians to settle. He had taken control of the Hunnic hordes, along with Gheism, and would soon be headed to crush the infant kingdom. These Burgundians, lured with lush lands to settle were only the first wave of a new Hunnic aggression on Spain and Gascony with northern Italy already tamed by their vassals the Bastarnians.

Theobald and his standard bearers took the far route into the city and attacked the Roman and Gothic army from behind. In the fighting, the pagan Vandalarius was killed, along with most of the Gothic nobles guarding him, but the Romans prevailed triumphant.

The third hunter of the exiles was vanquished. The Scholaes Palatina of Lycurgus Luca turned and crushed the side wave of the Burgundians. Theobald was nearly killed by an arrow and taken captive. The High King Filimer would need to know if the Huns were coming by sea for the pagan isles, which were closer to them, or by land. He also wanted to know the extent of the Alemanni complicity in their passive stance since the fall of the empire.

Matheus in Bordeaux

It was a dark rainy day and God was bowling, when Matheus reached Burdigala, Bordeaux, climbing off his horse, to a frigid welcome. The soldiers in Bordeaux looked warlike. It was unclear to Matheus’ always working mind if Clodovicus had become the new king, or Fastrada had some plan for war against the Huns, but something told him the men there were ready for a fight. They said nothing to him, just nodded their heads grimly in the rain, and pointed him to the palace. Pompaelo had been occupied by Vandalarius, son of Theoderic. The suit for peace by the Hispanians had failed. Of, at the very least, Pompaelo’s pursuit of peace had failed. Filimer did not recognize the governor’s at a single state after the death of Secundus Niger, just cities. All of Taracconensis now belonged to his state. They had no plans of aggression against the more powerful Alemanni now that Tarraconensis was reclaimed. Instead they would focus their efforts on securing the city of Structus, Tarentum, and strengthening alliance with Africa. They must be ever wary of the Huns, who had not had a target to turn their abuses on for some time after the collapse, razing much of Europe to the ground, and causing those cities remaining to swell with refugees.

The rain turned into a torrent that drowned out all other ambient noise. Even men nearby could not be heard, though the looks at him, who was no stranger to the palace, were those of curiosity and shock. The Alemanni brought him to a room, where was seated, not Fastrada, the High King, but Clodovicus, his son and heir. Clodovicus appeared to be grappling with emotions, and looked bent. The High King must have died, Matheus thought immediately.

‘Matheus, I’ve been hoping to see you. You look cold, tired and wet. Wilhelmina, help him with his clothes.’

‘Thank you, you are too kind, Crown Prince Clodovicus.’ Matheus said, happy at the hospitality from the perturbed Prince.

‘Matheus. If you found a man drowning at sea. What would be your inclination?’ Clodovicus said boldly and laughed.
Matheus laughed. ‘That was a question, not a joke.’ Clovis interrupted him, and looked quizzically at him.
‘Why, take him aboard Matheus answered. Get him warm and breathing.’

‘Yes, and take him into your home.’ Clodovicus smiled. He folded his hands. They were in rough leather greaves. Black leather, as dark as the skies around Bordeaux. Matheus hoped the sullen day hadn’t ruined the princes mood. He had always been intemperate to the Goths, which was why he was hoping to speak to his reasonable father instead.

‘But a guest becomes a friend. He is never greedy, he does chores, and puts in his share of the work.’ Clodovicus added. ‘He never takes one’s home as his own, he never uses the host’s words against him, and never asks the impossible or the unreasonable. A guest does not invite others in.’ He motioned for a parchment to be brought to the diplomat.

Matheus wasn’t sure what the Prince was getting at. ‘Your father, is he well? I am here to ensure peace between our kingdoms. Everlasting peace in the eyes of the lord. Matter of fact, bring a chaplain, this will be quick. Formalities.’ He shook his head, grinning. This would be business as usual for the two kingdoms and the Goths were strong enough to ensure that it would remain steady for years to come.

‘He’s fine. He’s concerned about Filimer’s new nobility, my soldiers. And Filimer and Vandalarius’ aggression on our friends in Pompaelo and Caesaraugusta. But surely if a man asks the impossible or the unreasonable, or he steals word or belonging, or acts as the voice of his host inviting another in to pillage, or even shows the underbelly of his guest, he is no friend, this fish. But a parasite. And if from an enemy vessel, doubly so. This survivor is no longer a guest, but a captive. A captive to abuse.’ Clodovicus said in a whisper.

Matheus spoke up. ‘ There’s no need for this. Our aggression is warranted. Hispania tried to drive us into the seas. They were no Samaritan, as you mention. And I assure you our efforts will stop in Tarraconensis. Pompaelo has been taken as a cautionary measure. Which is why I am offering you free trade and a pact of non-aggression for the length of the reign of Filimer, High King of the Balti, Vesi, and Ostrogoths in Tarragon.’ Matheus added hesitantly. ‘We will pay for such a privilege.’
Clodovicus waved on Wilhelmina to strip Matheus of his clothes entirely. A knife was held to his throat.

‘Non-aggression has ended with the taking of Caesaraugusta, not Pompaelo. It’s all about the formalities, little fish. You are my captive. From this day, Fastrada King declares war on the Goths and their Roman house-hands in Spain and the pagan isles. And Chlotsuintha, I will see her raped by the dogs of Avarius and Gheism the Huns in front of Filimer and Vandalarius, her protectors, before your empire returns to life and threatens Spain.’ Clodovicus said, smiling. He put his hands down heavily in their leather greaves on the table. ‘I want your mercenaries on my chopping block, Matheus.’

‘When you are allowed to return to the seas. I want you to tell dread lord Filimer that it was I. I who had forbidden the war of my people against the Huns. I who had allowed him and his ilk to drown. For the death of Secundus Niger and the men your Alamans betrayed, I pray this word pierces his ungrateful heart.’

When Filimer heard the news, he buckled down all of the cities in his protection. It was a surprise, however formally it had been delivered. He called on all of his allies to responde. Dacia, The city of Constantinople, Macedonian Rome, and the surviving Quadrians of Radolf. Radolf betrayed them then, sailing away from the pagan isles for Africa. The very same year, civil war led by the house of Duccius broke out in Africa. It was unclear who would be the winner, or what fortunes Radolf would have on their coasts, and which side he would join. Constantinople refused to send any aid to their cause.

The Picts and Ebdanians began to cross into Gaul by the thousands in support of the Alemanni, along with Nordic raiders and bounty hunters. Even the Huns of Avarius, Gheism, and Gostum were sighted crossing the Mare Gallicum.

As a result, Filimer declared Valdamerca, who must have been going through trials of her own, persona non gratis. The general of the Alamans, Sigivald, began his march for Tarraconensis. The fate of the Kingdom of Tarragon was like a strangled baby, or as he, Filimer preferred to deliver the metaphor to the people, Hercules.

THE ALEMANNI DECLARE WAR ON THE GOTHS

The scene of the West at the time of the Herculean Wars

Constantinople

The Herculean War ruined Valdamerca's reputation in God's city. The Goths were hunted, and no-one wanted to be associated with a kingdom that was being destroyed, even as the Illyrian grip on Byzantium was being broken. It was called the Herculean War by the Goths, but the Cleansing and worse by belligerent parties. They were blamed for the successes of the Eastern Empire against the Illyrians in Byzantium, as if sheltering just a few Goths, would sway the balance and portents. The people sting clung tightly to superstition.
Countess Valdamerca had few places in the city to go. She comforted her half-sister Eliande, and told her that she would find some way in the east to bring a savior to the Gothic kingdom in Spain. Eliande was young and had no husband. She yearned for the protection of a man, but in the eyes of the Domitians and the Goths, she would always be second to her sister, the heir of Trapstilicus.

The steps of House of the Domitianus were smoking. The acrid stench of it, perfidious in the palace itself. A riot had damaged it’s façade. A change in foreign affairs, the Alemanni declaring war on the remiss kingdom, had tipped the hand against the Domitians after the Emperor had refused to join the Goths, as beleaguered as he was against the Eastern Roman Empire of the Orient. And that empire’s support was gaining in the Illyrian occupied city. The sounds of the horses screaming at the crashing of carts at the steps and gates. All through the night. She had a personal commitment to take as many Illyrians in Constantinople and make the voyage across the seas to protect her people. Those seas were dangerous, plagued by pirates and worse, but this time it was Vandalarius who needed to be saved from himself. The horses of her house would be difficult to transport, but they were needed more than ever against an adversary that surrounded the Goths on all sides. Her white rider was in danger, Chloe was in danger, and Filimer was a stubborn man that would never forget an insult once his blood was up.

She went to the head of the Domitian house to request help. He was engendered to the Duccians in the Attian civil war and had not been a friend to the Goths after the death of Trapstilicus , but a friend of hers nonetheless.

[Lugotorix]

Wew, the Battle of Narbo - carnage.
Impressive battles indeed. Looks like the Ostrogoths will be able to get a foothold in Spain and rebuild their empire there?
Considering the year is ~450 AD, this is a really epic tale. Normally campaigns are over by then already - but this seems just about to start really.

Also, congrats for 15k views!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Thanks, man! The story continues for another fifty to seventy years, depending on how I see the AAR ending. My end goal even when I was playing the campaign was to return a descendant of Vithericus to the throne. I'll keep quiet as to whether I accomplished that. To see how quickly the end game would be if Attila had been killed early, I settled in Spain as the Visigoths, killed Attila, and got the cultural victory in 450 on the dot. This was one of my first campaigns ( You can see the Alamans icon isn't even the DLC one, and that was one of the first DLCs), and I think the story twist of actually losing to the Huns and having to survive adds to the AAR. One thing I'm considering, is to implement the roster changes that took place in The Last Roman. That way things will be interesting and new for return viewers of the screens other than the storyline. Perhaps I could implement it with a Marian reform type event.

[Lugotorix]

THE HERCULEAN WAR

Constantinople

Valdamerca sought the help of the head of the Domitian household, Vindonius’ cousin Ennius Marius. His estate was deep in the city, but surrounded by gardens and courtyards, such was the wealth of the Illyrians within the capital of the Roman Empire. Marius was reluctant to help her, at first. Her father had slain Lepidus Duccius, and he backed the Duccian side of the African civil war. Any assistance he provided to the exile kingdom in public would be seen as an insult to the rebels in Hadrumentum, so he decided he would offer what he could, in private. He had not forgotten the alliance that the Goths and Illyrians had shared after their liberation by Saphrax fifty years ago.

However, now that the alliance had officially been dissolved with the declaration of war against the Goths by Fastrada and Clodovicus, it would make a fool out of him to back a lost cause, so he had to be very careful in how he helped the woman. She was a favorite of the poor people for her generosity, and with the recent pressure against his house by factions, hippodrome hooligans among them, within the city for protecting her, tensions were strained between these two camps in Constantinople. He did not want to be blamed for a riot between the classes, least of all as a rich man.

Radolf had chosen the other side in the war, the fool. That made him an enemy of Rome. So when Valdamerca told Marius that Liuva had been summoned to meet with the former pirate in the bay of Carthage with his ships, he didn’t mention that the Duccian armada had been growing in strength in Leptis Magna to the south eastern sea of Libya. Liuva was a little brother to her, but as they say, sacrifice is a walk of war.

‘Who will Filimer contest with? Lycurgus Luca, Lucceius Magnus, my two legions. He’ll find compromise is necessary to his survival.’ Marius waved a finger at Valdamerca. The Goth’s treacherous history with Rome was not respected in the east, nor was it’s power.

‘You don’t know the brute. When something is his property, he’ll never see reason to give it up. He sees the princess as his belonging, may Christ save her.’ Valdamerca pleaded.
The best Marius could offer at the present was a compromise. Should the capital be lost to it’s former owners who were gaining ground in Anatolia, he would depart the city with two legions and make way to relieve the Goths at Tarragon. None of this would be officially stated of course, it would just be protection by the Goths and temporary exile from affairs in the Orient, just as Valdamerca had taken a vacation, but two standing armies in Spain, several thousand Equites Promoti, Iuvenes, and Romanized foederati would give the Goths motivation to accommodate their guests, perhaps even, he reasoned, throw off Filimer and make peace with Africa should Duccius prevail. Trade would resume between Caralis and Carthage, and the western Mediterranean could be used as a staging ground for retaking the east.

Valdamerca could be promised a ship, and safe transit to Caralis, along with a Roman crew and bodyguard, but the rest of Marius’ designs would have to wait for the outcome of their own civil war in Asia Minor, which was looking worse and worse for the Illyrians.

Winter 449 A.D.

Vandalarius, only legitimate son of Theoderic

Toletum, Segobriga, and Caesaraugusta

Legend has it, that when Alcmene illegitimately conceived the mythical hero Hercules by Jupiter, who was part of Aventine mythology as well as Hispanian and Gaulish myth, the jealous queen of the Gods, Hera tried to poison the infant in his cradle by use of a serpent. The boy survived this and continued on to greatness, and great feats. Filimer thus conscribed the fountain statue of Vithericus to be adorned in the pelt of the Nemean lion, wielding a club, as was the mythical hero deified by Mark Antony and later the emperor Commodus.
Odotheus was put in charge as a gesture of his accepting of his child, perhaps jokingly before Avidius, though all of the decisions were left to the elder mason.

One thing Filimer had in abundance, was strength. First, Lycurgus Luca was given emergency powers of independent control of Narbo, to allow greater concentration within the kingdom of Tarragon among the Goths. This was as much to secure the loyalty of the Romans within the city, which had already been savaged by the Burgundians, where a Gothic commander had been killed and replaced by Luca Magnus, the brother of Lycurgus. At the start of the war, in the months between Fall and Winter of 449, many of the Romans under their own captains defected to the Alemanni. The nature of their kingdom in Spain, centered around Toletum, was that of lucre, and the Alemanni simply paid better, and were more Latin in character than Filimer’s branding of his kingdom.

The Alemanni, after wars with the Emperor Antoninus Caracalla, in the late third century, known as Alemmanicus, and later emperors, had settled west of the Rhine on the Limes Germanicus, in Alsace and Raetia. They have been painted as victims of the reviled Caracalla, who legend says they cursed, but no more savage Germanic race has ever existed to hear the Roman Emperor’s tales.

Chnodomar was one of the paramount kings of the Alemanni, there were two in 357 A.D. and was succeeded by Fastrada, and Fastrada’s son, the regales, or prince of the Alemanni, was Chlodovech called Clodovicus. Clodovicus was also a neighboring King, as he ruled over Cathaginensis after the collapse of Honorius’ empire to Saphax, Vithericus, and Sisinand.
Sigivald was one of the reguli, or petty kings of Chnodomar. His subordinate was Hunberct. Both came after the army of Vandalarius in the Winter of 449. Offense being the best defense, the High King Filimer retreated south to fortify on the border of Caesaraugusta and Tarragon, while Vandalarius was ordered to cross into Alemannic territory and take Toletum from the enemy. He was stopped by Sigivald’s man Hunberct.

The official line was that this Germanic Kingdom was nothing but another gang of thugs sent by the Huns to stifle a peaceful kingdom from it’s well earned borders, but the truth was much more. The Alemanni lived in Roman style buildings, wore Roman clothing and their pottery and glassware were in the Roman style. The Germanic kingdom was very much Latinized, and with this, came the empire’s discipline. Over a hundred years of war with the empire had brought the Alemanni into familiarity with it’s tactics, and Sigivald and Hunberct were no exceptions.

THE BATTLE OF THE TAGUS

Take courage men, these snakes the bounty of the eagle, golden teeth, and bejeweled girdles melted, we return to Caesaraugusta as kings, with the eyes of rubies as our pay to the liege lord! They have numbers yes, but few horses, and those they have are better worth killing. We lead with the pikes, then you young warriors, eager to make your legends will careen in. I want a priest at every scribe, a scribe at every bard, and a bard at every warrior keen enough to make his name, slaying the pagans of Alsace.

Onwards is Toletum, but we will not have it, unless we have this lot cowering and broken within hours, if not, the road to home, to safety awaits, but be sure, we will have victory, at the lances of those who ride ahead of our engines of grizzle and dust. And that I will ride with you into the next life, if you go forward. Ensure that your blade cuts forward and if parried, fall forward, I and my Taifals will bring you courage with the hide of he who defied you, penance for trying to break the unbroken, an offense to Christ for what prayers they’ve offered to us. Onwards!

Roman Protectores fight for the Alemanni nobles following the betrayal of Tranquilus and an abundance of gold

On a cold day, made just tolerable by the shining sun, Vandalarius and Vithimiris were in the rich country north of the Tagus river near Toletum when he made first contact with Hunberct. There was fierce fighting for several days as he attempted to clear a forest. The Tagus met with the Guadaramma river at Toletum, and going east back towards the safety of Caesaraugusta and the corridor of Gothic territory there were dense wood lands. Vandalarius’ plan was to meet with the larger force of the Bear-Sons, after Hunberct had been deterred. What he had not counted on was that Sigivald was moving from the south to approach his position just prior to the battle with Hunberct, which put him in the position to be waylaid on his journey to meet the High King.

Vandalarius was an accomplished Gothic general, and his personal Taifali escort carried full shields and wore chainmail upon their armored horses. The peace before the war had gained new recruits of swordsmen, an entire new generation, mostly born in Italy, dressed in hides and iron.

Although the quality of his troops were fresh and the best the Goths could afford, he was outnumbered, and outmatched. Many Romans had switched sides prior to the battle, and the Protectores Domestici were in heavy numbers in Sigivald’s army that joined the skirmishing heavy force of Hunberct from the east. Vandalarius had taken casualties with Vithimiris entering the forest, and he would have to find victory with a smaller force. Thankfully, Sigivald did not attack the many horses of Vandalarius first. He would have to make personal use of his Taifali riders to win this. That was where Vandalarius’ ability as a general would have to shine.

Another asset he had on his side, was a large onager that could hurtle explosive rounds into the Alemanni armies, and to make full use of it, he would have to keep the enemy in place. He confused them with halting charges of his lancers, while the opening salvos wrecked the lines of the advancing Alemanni. Their soldiers flew through the air, and fire caught amongst the trees and brush, which the horses rode over in the confusion and took their places in advance of the Gothic army. Then the elite archers of the Goths took advantage of this confusions by beginning to fire their volleys on the hesitant advance of the two armies, led by horses which panicked at the trembling of the earth and booming explosions.

The Taifali and Goths fight in their new mounted orientation, protecting Vandalarius the general

The battle is joined, the pikes lead the way

He met Hunberct’s remaining force with a dual line of four regiments of pikes, much as in previous battles. The Gothic noble lancers went at full speed to the south east, just where Sigivald was meeting with his comrade’s force. They would use this postion, trapped between victory and being caught between the two armies many times over of the course of the battle. The swords were sent in after the pikes established the line of battle with the proudly adorned enemy. The Alemanni were, among mighty fighters, also rich, and jewels adorned their helms and armor. The gold plundered from a victorious battle alone was motivation to forge a decisive victory. But they would not receive it.

Vithimiris on horseback

Sigivald rode in the old cavalry unit of Chnodomar’s Chosen, grizzled veterans that had endured all of these years. This was the personal guard of the paramount king, entrusted by Clovis for use in the opening clashes of the war, while he, Clovis, rested on his laurels and confidence of victory in Cordoba. Hunberct was on foot, with sword wielding well off nobles who had expected the battle to be an easy endeavor as they outnumbered the Goths heavily, and those that escaped would be crushed before they reached Filimer. They would feed the survivors to the war hounds.

It was not until his front lines had began to falter, that he sounded a retreat, though it was too late, as exhausted as the Gothic lancers were. Most of the Alemanni army was on foot, and their confusion at projectile fire, made their flank unable to bring the horses down when they had a chance.

The use of light infantry, the young and strong Italian generation of Goths was the determining factor in Vandalarius’ survival. His heavy horse made the enemy just vulnerable enough in morale for these lighter troops to hack their way to a bloody and hard fought rout of the Alemanni. They fought as if berserk, and chanted the names of Theoderic and other long dead legends, while the Taifali riders came to their rescue in the bloody melee, predominantly against the Roman defectors. Fires blazed and carnage came over the battlefield, the most bloody battle the Goths had ever witnessed since the invasion of the Huns.

Riches to be had for the ravens of men

The Noble Lancers have festered on the right of the battle and now confront the footed general himself

Hunberct’s nobles finally break

They could move quickly to pressure points where Hunberct was close to breaking through at bringing spears to bear on the generals. Vandalarius himself led several charges to the point of Alemanni formations that showed signs of breaking. All of this under the fire of his own archers and onagers. Every arrow, every bolt would be needed. His Taifali in their new outfitting reached around the Alemanni line, dispatching the enemy horses, with the aid of a skirmishing force of riders known as the night raiders, who were Alemanni themselves, Liutprand’s men.

The night raiders prepare to harass the enemy. Nobody speared with a javelin feels ‘harassed.’

This combined with the devastating charges of the lancers, and the Alemanni’s inability to turn their army around and get rid of them, won Vandalarius a slight victory. With most of his troops dead, he proceeded with the long march towards Filimer and Caesaraugusta. Another victory like this and they were finished, but Vandalarius had not been wiped out and had reconnaissance to report, as well as the heads of two of the treacherous Alemanni to present to Filimer, one of them, a regional king, Sigivald, who had perished with all of the other chosen of Chnodomar.

Sigivald is destroyed, along with all of the other elite guards of the Alemanni



Vandalarius fights for all or nothing, in the thick of it

Vandalarius nearly lost his arm in the battle. It was maimed by the flying weapon of a flaming soldiers, ignited and screaming near his horse. Half of the muscle was stripped away, pulled from it's socket, and he wore a sling over the burnt arm after the battle. The wound would never fully heal, and caused tremors and slack for the rest of his life. He had earned a distinction for bravery, but his wife to be would not like this injury, nor Valdamerca, he noted.

The cost of the battle was unfathomable for the Alemanni, but they were rescued when the governor of Asturica sent an army to Pompaelo and re-captured it in the name of the free Roman states allied to Fastrada. Some accounts say the news of the battle near Toletum broke the heart of Fastrada, and he grew ill soon after, others that he was poisoned by his son. Regardless of the truth, Clodovicus was soon sitting on the throne of the Alemanni by 450 A.D. Fastrada lived, but was unable to rule, perhaps imprisoned. Filimer cared less, waiting for Vandalrius and the survivors to return to Caesaraugusta. Clodovicus would be an even less capable opponent than Fastrada, and his kingdom of Carthaginensis would be first in the firing line.

The cost of the Pyrrhic battle

Coast of Africa

Liuva’s ships, the Storm of Maeotis were on their way to meet with Radolf the Quadrian sailor who had aided in securing the pagan isles, and defeating Duccius Lepidus. He was forced into a brief sea battle with Bastarnian transports. The sea had been cold and unforgiving, there was no citrus on board, and no room for slaves, and the captured Bastarnians were thrown to the sharks, their ships scuttled. It took some mettle, to make fish chum out of men, and war had hardened Liuva. He was no longer the little brother entranced with his older brother’s house, but a mechanical marine, ice cold with little pity or empathy for the enemy flotillas he butchered. Hispania and the Alemanni had no navy in the southern seas, and so his enemies had been mostly Bastarnians and the odd Hunnic raiding ship.

Carthage could been seen on the southern horizon. There had clearly been fighting on it’s outskirts. The Vandals, driven out of the Levant by the resurgent Eastern empire, had landed in Hadrumentum forcing the Duccians to move their army into a deeper trench near Carthage. He became certain that Radolf wanted to meet alone, when he saw his lone vessel anchored off a reef. He wasn’t with the rest of his ships, which was cause for concern. They might be occupied in defending Carthage. Liuva knew he would ask for his assistance in the civil war, which he would grant, though tell nothing to Filimer off it. Filimer would rather have the Liburnian marines fighting on land in Spain than give a drop of blood in Africa’s defense.

The horns and shouts blew that Liuva would be joining Radolf aboard his ship, while the other three ships in the fleet would remain behind. The sails blew and Liuva’s flagship approached Radolf’s ship.

The icy wind ran shivers over the men as they approached the ships and threw ladders onto it’s decks. It was a ghost ship. Privacy was clearly paramount to Radolf. But for what errand?
Liuva sadly looked about the ship for signs of life, and then cautiously ordered his boarding party forward towards the captain’s quarters. Some twenty men left Liuva’s vessel and boarded Radolf’s ship.

Radolf was dead, propped up in his chair before a desk cluttered with maps. In a chair beside him was a masked man in a black cloak, and eyes of pumas ash. Liuva’s sword arm trembled with rage. He unsheathed the Rhomphaia, a great cleaving blade that the sailors were known for, particularly Liuva, and pointed it at the masked man, who looked bored, strumming his finger’s on Radolf’s desk.

‘And you are?’ Liuva demanded. Then the sounds of the hull boards being ripped open, and crawlways being removed as fifty some Roman voices boomed in violence from the ship below. Radolf’s crew was beneath the waves already, and soon Liuva’s would join them.

‘I am a dead man, a worm. I just always wanted to meet the mighty pirate son of Theoderic.’ The ambusher replied sarcastically, and whipped a monk seal club from his belt, into his gangling tight and bony arms.
As the massacre raged on Radolf’s ship, an African navy, some twenty vessels and two thousand sailors strong approached the three remaining ships of the Storm of Maeotis.

The main guy, Bassus, and his seal club

[Alwyn]

Poor Liuva! The Herculean War looks like a real threat to the survival of the Goths. The battle at Toletum is amazing!

[Lugotorix]

Fall, 450 A.D.
Tarragon

Medusa Mosaic- Tarraco- Catalonia

Vandalarius had returned to a raucous celebration for his victory to the west near Toletum, upon arriving home in Tarragon. Hunberct and Sigivald were slain, and the only army of the Alemanni trapped north of Pompaelo, which had taken on a new Viceroy. Although Pompaelo had been lost Filimer would soon march north with Vandalarius to retake the city as to maintain the integrity of the Kingdom.

They were all partying in the palace of the Spanish city, near the fountain of Vithericus clad as Hercules. Even in death, the dread lord of the Goths seemed to let bloodshed, and Goiswintha, his ancient wife, sat on the edge of the fountain beneath the marble statue of her late husband, laughing at Odotheus, who was quite the acrobat. The fountain spewed wine and water, and the streets had been cleared for the carriages of the notaries to make their way to pay tribute to the High King before he left with his army. This was the last night of celebration, and the drunks cheered as red banners were lifted hoisted from the near nude Goths. It was known vividly that the Goths at times of celebration and peace abandoned the armor and rugged ways of their war for simple furs and cloth chlamys. They were known for being pale, originally from the far reaches of the Baltic, and the Romans simply acted as scant as them in their revelry. Sigivald was a reguli, and of Toletum at that. With success at Pompaelo and it’s feeble garrison of Romans, the rest of Iberia would fold like a napkin.

Vandalarius was speaking with Witigis, while the boy Odotheus danced with the women who attended the gala. A chalice of wine was in his hand, his other arm in a sling, maroon with his own blood and the charred bits that had to be excised. His gallantry was sung by the skalds, and the music played around the outer court where Filimer sat upon his throne, which was in the fashion of an Irminsul world tree, adorned with a crucifix at it’s top. The dying Galilean looked upon his wayward children surpassing each other in devilish acts and boasts, and beneath him, Filimer, with a forlorn brow, contemplating his march north. He would have to pass through forests, deep woods inhabited by bounty hunters and assassins. The Friaress Guitifrida had returned from an injury preaching to the Bastarnians at Milano, and had told him that even the Christian Senntes of the Picts had sided with the Alemanni in the war.

Another Christian Pict, the berserker who had convinced the Picts to side against the Goths, Correos, had allied with the Jutes through his lieutenant Drappes who traveled this far south and had formed a seek and destroy mission on behalf of Clovis and the Hunnic King. He would be lurking in the easternly route of the army to the side of the highway to Pompaelo from Caesaraugusta.

Vandalarius asked Witigis of Chloe’s health, to which he responded that she would not be drinking tonight, out of caution. Vandalarius glanced in panic at Vithericus and his wrath, and then remembered that he was long dead, along with his father at Salona. He would be wounded for the battle. Accidents happened in war. It was unlikely he would be placed on a horse, and Filimer could arrange that he would disappear in the forests before battle was met. Goiswintha and Witigis meant to ensure that did not happen.

Vandalarius almost grinned, in relief as much as that his friend was succeeding in romance, until he saw boatman approaching and in bad shape, ignoring the pats of celebration that were placed on them, brushing them off angrily in some cases. Dressed in their pantaloons and scarlet rags they approached Vandalarius of all people, and bowed their heads. He knew they were sailors because of their attire and how they were tanner than all of the other attendees. He stopped bantering with Witigis, as if his face was cast to stone. His mind desperately searched for any explanation they would give him other than what he knew was coming. That Lycurgus Luca had rebelled, that the emergency powers would be revoked, even, and he winced at this, that Valdamerca had perished to the Eastern Roman authority of the Flavians. But instead, one of them spoke, gravely.

‘General Vandalarius. Liuva was called to a meeting with Radolf at Carthage and has not returned.’ One of the sailors said.

Witigis looked at Vandalarius who was paling and shaking with rage, ignoring his sling and his injury. ‘What do you mean he hasn’t returned. We own that city.’ Witigis demanded.

‘The Duccians have won the civil war, lord Witigis. Carthage is theirs.’ He stammered.

Vandalarius knew then that his half-brother was dead, lost at sea. He must notice the Taifals loyal to him quickly, but he found he couldn’t move. He sat down, nearly collapsing. Witigis offered his hand, but it was batted away by Vandalarius. Witigis was beckoned to by Goiswintha, Queen of the Goths, who would one day be his grand mother in-law. To Africa, to vengeance, were Vandalarius’ first thoughts, then realizing that he was one armed and his drunken legs were aching. He wouldn’t make it to the stairs to the palace, nonetheless the boats. Liuva had broken the chain of command by meeting with Radolf, who was likely dead, and therefore Filimer the Balti would condemn his brother as a traitor. The house of Theoderic would be disgraced, and Gaatha would be a target.

He pulled a sailor closer, ‘Conceal word of his death.’ He hissed. ‘Inform the King that Africa has attacked merchant vessels under your protection. That the sons of Lepidus are coming for their revenge.’ Vandalarius nodded his head to him, and squelched a hurl of vomit.
Witigis saw that his friend was dealing with the news in a relatively well manner, for a Gothic warrior, and bowed deeply to him, and walked towards the Queen. He held in his hand a letter, and passed it to her discreetly.

‘The Lanista Orcus will be involved in a brawl tonight, down the street.’ She said. ‘He will not walk away from it, and you are free, Burgundian. Do you wish to run? Run before Filimer orders you into his chosen Saiones for the battle for Pompaelo.’ She said, pleasantly.

‘No. I will stay and protect your grand-daughter, my Queen. I will fight sure enough, but differently with a loved one at home.’ Witigis soothed. She raised an eye at him, but before she could speak, it looked as if in annoyance, The High King Filimer rose from his wooden throne and cornicularis sounded.

He waited until the horns had stopped blaring, the harps had stopped playing, the clapping had ceased, the smoke from the fires doused with wine in haste to clear, and silence had fell over the outer court spoke;

I have just received word that our treacherous former allies, the Illyrian Domitians, have lost their grip on Constantinople. The city will once more belong to the Flavians, under Empress Annia Flavia Potita. I do not expect Valdamerca to return home, and what a welcome would she receive regardless, for her carousing the Roman city while Goths and her kin died here, in our new lands. My adoptive father’s two daughters, Eliande and Valdamerca, have failed us, in their bid to bring the east into our affairs, as was their oath. They have failed to keep an eye on your king and rule by proxy through Tranquilus. But all is not gloom and shadow, brothers, for from the wreckage of the exodus of Trapstila, our Kingdom will be secured, and the Alemanni cut-throats cast aside, their kingdom of Carthaginensis seized. Hear me, I will not rest until our Gothic armies are in Cartagena, but before we claim the wolves prize, we must behead the serpent, the strangling force on our august and strong country, so after my victory in the north, I will march on Bordeaux itself, and bring you Fastrada, queen of the pagan whore, to the den of our Herculean nation. As for the civil war in Africa, I’ve made plans to end it, and quickly, with the aid of our friends among the Vandals who have not deserted us.’

Vandalarius looked about him. The people were cheering. They admired strength, and cared little for the bloodlines of Vithimiris and Vithericus which were holy to Vandalarius, his mother being an Amali. With their support for the Balti, there was nothing to stop Filimer from sending his agents to Caralis, where the widow Gaatha held her house. Furthermore, Caralis was in danger from the African Viceroy, whichever Duccius had seized power. With the loss of the Storms of Maoetis, there would be nothing to stop further Abasgian fleets from coming closer to the docks of this very city. He thought to tell Filimer immediately of the fall of Carthage, interrupt the massive man and his bellowing lungs even, but soon the man was riding the wave of the emotions he had instilled in his audience and continued;

‘ I would like to introduce you to my son and heir. I have kept him hidden from you until victory was assured. Odotheus, come here, my boy.’ Filimer spoke proudly.
Kriemhild cast a wicked eye on the king, and made a fist but was restrained by guards from making a scene. She sobbed softly. She had provided him no sons, and now their legacy together would be tainted with a six year old from another woman’s bed. Some farmer he had raped, likely.

Odotheus was stunned and humbled and walked towards the throne, leaving the dance floor and his master Avidius. The King placed a leather mit on his shoulder.
‘ You have heard in years path of a man whose eyes were plucked out by the cruel Princess of the Amali, Gaatha. That is the Balti noble, the true High Judge of the Empire, Filimer, Governor of Venezia, my father. She will be punished for her ways, despite her blessing to us in our victorious general. Now a Balti, a descendant of Ermanaric, sits upon the throne once more and this boy, an architect already, is his prince. I want every person here to raise him in your ways, so that his rule will better reflect your will, and the will of God. Hail Odotheus, second of the Balti High Kings of Tarragon and the Goths!’

The people bowed and clamored, and the bright little boy couldn’t understand why he was being showered with such attention. He lived in the moment and saluted them, which made his father smile approvingly. He walked from his throne to his mother, and the boy had never heard anything so loud and impressive as the stomping of those shiny leather boots. He saw that Avidius was happy and proud, as well as young Eutharic, so that was just fine by him, whatever this Prince business was about.

The Golden Horn

Byzantium

The sun rose on Constantinople, God’s new city. The great cathedral could be seen in the distance, and she would miss it dearly. She had planned on marrying her guardian Ataulf there, but now he would die protecting her, or perhaps serve in the Kingdom of Tarraconensis in shame. She would never hold office again, and would seek the protection of mother Gaatha.

Valdamerca was on a boat, and the morning had just rose on a new day, from the Orient and the east. Her ship was fleeing Constantinople, fleeing the armies of the Eastern Roman Empire, loyal to the Flavians, which would take the city from the Illyrians and Marius by the end of the day. If Marius had fled in time, he might join her, with his promised armies. There had been no time to prepare, and her adopted house was expected to aid in the defense of the city from the Flavian army that had recovered almost all of it’s lost territory under it’s queen, and now stood strong against Sassanid Persia and the lost lands of Thrace , Hellas, and Macedonia. Macedonia had it’s own Agorian leadership, liberated by the Goths fifty years ago, and they were in partnership with the Vandals, who had holdings in both the Levant and Africa. The Flavians of Arcadius had held power here ever since the schism of Theodosius, and now his daughter Annia would be empress of the city once more, until an acceptable heir could be found.

The Empress had issued a death edict against her, and she feared that with the loss of the city, Filimer soon would, with the Illyrians refusing to help when the Alemanni had declared war, and the ship could not wait for long. Like most of the noblewomen, she had been sent to evacuate early, should the army march past Philopation and the seventh gate upon the military hill. The signs of fighting, a smoldering building here and there began to appear, and she put faith in God for deliverance, though chances were, it wouldn’t be coming. To flee Rome for Spain, and then Spain for the second Rome, only to flee again. The chief of her bodyguards, Ataulf, stood beside her, with his long kempt beard, and looked sadly on the outer reaches of the city, the glint of marches formations of Flavian troops approaching the walls, whose guards had been bribed, or had fled their posts to force a non-violent surrender.

Then she smiled at a sound she never would have thought would please her. The sounds of terrified horses, above the frequency of the seabirds, waves, and tide.

[Lugotorix]

The Forest Battle Of the Coventus of Zaragoza

The Pictish assault passes the stakes

Pompaelo, or Pamplona, was founded as a camp by Pompey in the wars against Sertorius. It was the civitas stipendiaria in Tarraconensis, in the coventus of Caesaraugusta. It lay on the Ab Asturica Burdigalam, the road from Bordeaux to Asturica, since ancient times, and the land between it and Caesaraugusta, or Zaragoza to the south was hilly and covered by dense forest. This was the target, along with it’s governor, who had dared to take the city back in the opening of the Herculean war. Now Filimer had had further success against an expedition of the Bastarnians under mighty Remistus, and destroyed his army. This gave him confidence to move forward with any captives that would sign on, and re-take his kingdom.

‘The necessary steps with our Vandalic allies for a quick end to the civil war.’ Vandalarius’ arm hung loosely at his side, aching under the weight of his shield. He had not regained full use of it. He walked with the bear pelt dressed standard bearer, and looked at Filimer and his guards on their horses at the head of the army. This man had doomed Liuva, he fought a tear. It was the cold, and nothing more that stirred irritation in his eyes he told himself. He wore a buckled cap, and hides appropriate for the winter. Every instinct in his body told him to tackle Filimer from his horse for the pact he had no doubt signed with the Duccians, but what then, certain death and no words to defend it. Had Filimer tried to diminish the house of Theoderic with his Duccian allies, there was no proof.

Between them and Pompaelo, was a dense forest, and within it, unknown dangers. They were in the high hilly country of Tarraconensis, the north of Hispania Citerior, and the dust and sand slipped beneath their feet, in view of the mountains. The further north they traveled, the thicker the forest would become and the harder the march. This was uncharted territory, far from the highway, in fact to avoid the very armies that now had found them and laid in wait in the forest before them.

He had seen the Jutish and Pictish riders, on the outskirts of the forest. At some point the army would be drawn in, and they would strike. In hopes to diminish the numbers of the advancing Goths on their kingdom. The Pict men would use guerilla tactics, gut and slash those who strayed from the lines, and pepper them with arrows from ridges within the forest. Many of Vandalarius’ men would die. He looked to the men at his sides, Anthagild, unquestionably loyal, Hilderic, not so much. Could he be the man paid by Filimer to end his mourning for his brother?

They were marching on hilly fields now, but soon the darkness of the forest would beckon. He broke from his march and walked to Witigis, who was in the rear guard of Filimer’s bodyguards. The man’s face was full and ruddy, and his mustache hung like the jowls of a walrus, his green eyes and strong brow obviously the object of Chlotsuintha’s desire.

‘Mind that dragging shield, and get back in rank, friend.’ Witigis told him, keeping his head forward. Witigis patted on the swastika pattern on Vandalarius’ shield, bright yellow on the blue of it’s metal face. His clout among the men had clearly taken a hit since the naming of Odotheus as the prince, and the rumors of Liuva’s death circulating to everyone but Filimer, who he expected knew anyways.

The Vandals of Gundemar were secure in their position at Leptis Magna, and could have tipped the scales in the battle for Carthage. Vandalarius, that night in Tarragon, had gone to inspect the ledgers for the standing of Roman Africa, and had seen that the position towards the Attians had not changed from ‘undecided.’ But that the Duccius faction had but crossed from hostile in black ink and written in bold red ‘undecided.’ In the handwriting of the High King. The room was the registrar of Tarragon, and Vandalarius had noticed someone watching him, and when he looked, it was the towering shadow of the High King in the hall. He did not enter, and said nothing, but was watching the General. He had seen it then, a note by the Vandalic Kingdom’s position, in handwriting unfamiliar to him, perhaps Achilius’. Vandals, ‘Undecided.’

Vandalarius looked behind him trying to see through the piercing sun for the familiar face of Achilius, dressed as a Roman, or Gothic soldier, but all of their stern faces looked the same, equally frustrated, knowing that there was trouble in the woods ahead. It was just as easy to hire one of the Alemanni Saiones, Liutprand included, ahead on his horse, he figured.
‘Witigis, can I count on you in the fight.’ Vandalarius asked desperately.

‘We’ll see after the fight. We’ll get back to Caesaraugusta, have sugar plums with the High King, and all of this will be behind us. Now, stand in file, General.’ Every muscle in his face tried not to smile. Ah, Goiswintha. She was nearing her last winters and would never see his mother or the true Amali successor lain to waste. Vandalarius tried not to make any assumptions and grudgingly turned and walked back to the head of his regiment. Before he did, he looked Witigis in the eyes, those saline green eyes showed no lie.

The First Day of the Battle

Near the end of the day, Filimer, wary of what the horses, some Mormaer might belie, ordered his army to a high hill of sparse trees, where there was a ridge. Frustrated by their refusal to enter the forest, the Pictish army of Senntes and Correos left the forest to the north, on lower ground, and went to confront the army. Stakes were erected for the night’s watch, along with sink pits to ensnare any horses that might try to raid the camp at night. The Picts that emerged from the forest showed no caution, nor preservation of their energy, and Vandalarius wondered who had convinced them into being such fodder to protect other more sedentary forces. Then he saw their ribs, and gaunt faces. It was desperation that had forced them to take the field. The hungry and pale sort that had once terrified Julius Caesar.

The Romans that remain with the Gothic army, fight the Celts, getting the better end of the slaughter in Britannia

The Picts had many berserkers in their numbers and the charged the ridge where the Goths were ready with fearless abandon. Wolf hounds and their spear bearing masters, who were bettered armored in chain were also set on the Goths, who had many lancers. The Gothic falxmen were set on the Pictish berserkers while the horses went for Senntes and Correos warlord’s unit which had taken higher ground, while the Goths were confused of the seemingly suicidal onslaught.

Liutprand sent word from his high vantage, that this was only part of the Pictish force, and that they were perhaps trying to lure the army forward before the day was out, and Filimer decided to crush it and move no further, until the dead had been counted, and their odds to moving forward calculated.

Filimer was enjoying the field day. More notches for the hilt and pommel of the blade of Theoderic, and a great victory over the Scots for the skalds in Tarragon to tell of. The wounded would be chased by horses back into the night and the forest, as a warning to any enemy that remained within the dark woods. And they would not enter in the pitch of night. He would not be baited into the forest. With dozens of Gothic dead, and hundreds wounded, the cold night would take more of the Jutes and Picts than Goths.

Witigis wets his Burgundian blade on the Pictish assault

Savage was the word that came to mind when dealing with these newly baptized Picts. Their Cavalry had swaths of tartan cloth and winter clothing but many of the Picts were famished and dressed in nothing but leggings, bundles of hate. There would be cannibalism should this attack had succeeded, Vandalarius thought, disgusted, as he had climbed onto a horse and ran down several of the venal naked painted men. They were starving. The Pamplonans would afford them no food, and they needed a victory, and horses to eat before the winter. Presently those horses were crushing over the numbers of the Picts, while the pikes held ready and fought off wave upon wave of the Celtic barbarians. There was no pity for them among the Goths, they were between them and their own safe place for the winter in the heartland of Hispania.

The brazen Celts are no match for Ostrogothic fortitude

Hundreds of Picts lay dead and the dirt soaked in pools of blood by the end of the first day. Then the blood began to freeze as the night came. The horses of the Mormaer who had pushed on the lancers would be eaten during the night, and when the morning came, it was decided by Filimer that they would enter the forest.

They made no secret of their fires. They wanted the enemy remaining to know that they were strong and undeterred. Vandalarius was called to the tent of Filimer.

‘The great hero of Toletum. This easy work of this past day must soothe your wounds. Did you enjoy today’s slaughter?’ Filimer roared as he entered.

‘Like a breeze upon my face on a sunny day, King Filimer. Like a raven haired Spanish harlot trying to drive me into the ground.’ Vandalarius answered, surrendering his sword to an attendant at the entrance of the tent. He walked forward, sat, nursing his arm and folded his legs.

‘I know what you suspect.’ Filimer said. That you killed Liuva. That you turned him over to the enemy, Vandalarius thought petrified. He was no threat in battle to such a tall and powerful king, and he had no weapon.

‘I never know what you’re thinking, King Filimer. Ever since Tranquilus was killed, I’ve trusted to God, not my cunning.’ Vandalarius answered, cautiously.
‘You think you understand me, but you do not. I have two sons now. I am proud and will bestow dignity to the Balti. Do you really think I’d order the death of an Amali princess? Your mother Gaatha will govern Caralis from now on.’ Filimer looked deeply at him, evaluating him.

‘No. I’d put that below your caliber.’ Vandalarius answered, his eyes shooting up.
‘Liuva will govern with Gaatha when he returns from his voyages against the Bastarnian fleets. I’m recalling him from aggression against the Emperor of the Duccius, Lucius Bassus. The war is over, my friend. Valdamerca will return unharmed as a suitable wife for you.’ Filimer smiled.

‘He will make a fine governor. Valdamerca might have other plans, already. She trusts her bed to the captain of her guard.’ Vandalarius answered, and bowed his head in pain.

‘Does she? Then you are free to enjoy more Spanish harlots tonight, and tomorrow we will have our victory.’ Filimer said, excusing him and beckoning for his sword to be given back to him.
Vandalarius walked in despair, as if drunk through the camp of his soldiers who saluted him, to which he was emotive. He finally found Witigis, to which he gasped. ‘We’ll have to call it off.’ Witigis waved him away, mumbling something to the effect of ‘His food’s getting cold.’ And then continued drinking. Vandalarius fell by a tree and rocked, his arm numb in the night’s cold. The High King had said he hadn’t betrayed his brother, but someone had. For all the ill will since he had heard the news, he felt like a fool. And as for Goiswintha and Witigis’ plotting, he wasn’t sure where he now stood. However, he now had name to his pain, and it was Lucius Duccius Bassus. The Goths were not known to let grudges lie, and Vandalarius was no exception.

The Second Day of Fighting

The sun came the next day, and with it the stink of the slaughter. Any captives were executed and left behind, after being the entertainment for the evening, and the army marched into the lowlands and then the forest itself. Norse calls echoed in the forest, which was in a basin of sorts and was frightening, having just fought the previous day. They had encountered no Jutes in the battle, so these boys must be fresh. ‘Send them to their new God, for their old sins.’ Filimer had ordered. Melted ice fell from the dead trees, adding to the slush beneath their feet. The night would not have forgiven anyone but the Norse, waiting for this moment.

So these were the bounty hunters, Vandalarius thought, but it was more like an army. Taunts for them to move further into the forest, in halting German. They proceeded slowly and surely. They Norse raiders riding at the edges of the two columns of the army. Witigis had move his column deeper into the forest on Filimer’s command, but the attack came directly on Filimer, who had dismounted for the long walk through the brush and branches and twigs left by the dead winter, and the foraging of whatever army was waiting for them.

Vandalarius stayed close to Filimer throughout the ambush. These Jutes carried long axes that could behead even a Spanish stallion. They wore visors on their eyes of gilded gold, and were more heavily armored than the Picts from the previous day. The calls of Drappes, their Pictish leader were in an unfamiliar Norse, calling to kill Filimer at any expense. Outrageous sums were offered for the head of the High King to the Jutes, who crashed into the sides of the Gothic army and were soon on all sides. Vithimiris and Hilderic assured Vandalarius that they must protect the king, until this had passed over, with the Jute assailants dead, but the giant norse, heavy in furs cut deeply into the Gothic lines.

Filimer had underestimated the second army, one devoted entirely to bringing down his guards in the forest. The Picts from the day before had been a distraction, to give confidence, not deterrence, and now the King and his guard were within their grasp.

The ambush and the hunt unfolds

He couldn’t have guessed their numbers. He lifted his shield as arrows fell from the hidden forest, and rallied to the king. The Jutes came right for this final stand. Filimer fought like a beast, keeping his head low to stave off arrows on his shield, cleaving any Norseman who approached him with the sword of Theoderic. His father’s sword was getting good use, dispatching so many of the enemy. The Picts and Jutes began to hamper their assault, and Vandalarius was near to the king. ‘Bring them down. Tribute to your King.’ His swung with his might, impaling a Jute who crushed against the Saiones. Then a visored Norseman cut upwards in a flash with his axe, and Vandalarius saw the High King’s teeth fly into the air, his helmet taking the brunt of the blow. Vandalarius screamed for the men to protect the king, who had fell to one knee, drooling. Vandalarius entered the fray by the clearing where the King was struck, and he saw that the King was no longer focusing on the battle. The sword of Theoderic was anchored in the rib cage of a Norseman, and the King’s face was a bloated bruised mess, blood flowing from his broken jaw.

The High King smiled at Vandalarius. ‘My sons.’ He seemed to mouth. Vandalarius was unsure if he was speaking to him, as to what he was doing standing in disbelief that the giant had been brought down, or in reference to Odotheus and Eutharic. Vandalarius was on the brink of charging in to hold the King down and shield him from harm, but then, out of the sky seemingly, he was filled with relief instead ecstatically smiled back at Filimer, and bellowed for a secondary defense to be brought together close to Witigis who was fighting to the north. He saw the weight of dying Jutes and Picts weight the King down into a mess of melted ice slush and blood. The bellowing defiance of the King was not something Vandalarius would easily forget. His faith, all pretenses of loyalty and wholesomeness died then, and he fought for himself, for his own survival. The King sank into it, and only his shield could be seen. The sword of Theoderic was lost, as the army moved forward, trying to clear the forest, and the assailants that battled with them as they moved forward.

Vandalarius' moment of clarity with the High King

The hunt becomes messy

The Sword of Theoderic is lost

The battle raged on for hours more. With Witigis and Vandalarius’ forces meeting and avoiding being separated and entirely wiped out by the ambush. When the attackers finally relented, the cost had been high for them. Drappes would collect his reward and pass it to those who had earned it for him from the Hunnic and Alemanni offer of Optar, Gheism, Gostum, Optar, and Clodovicus and Fastrada. A tragic victory for the Goths, who would have enough numbers to continue their march on Pompaelo. The King was lost. For the first time in it’s history, the Goths had no sovereign lord, no king, and no steward. A vote was called for which of the two leaders should temporarily command the army until leadership could be determined back in Tarragon. Vandalarius was elected over Liutprand and Hilderic.

Witigis rushes to keep the army intact

The Spaniards hadn’t enough time for a defense. Vandalarius considered heading in retreat for Caesaraugusta, but instead resolved to make the Kingdom whole again, even if it was missing a leader.

[Alwyn]

There is real artistry in these chapters, with the use of the Medusa Mosaic, the fate of Liuva and the city of Carthage and some great lines (I particularly like the lines about sending the enemy to their new God, for their old sins - and the line that the Pictish army on the first day had been there to give confidence, not deterrence, to their foes.) A giant has been brought down, indeed - I wonder how Vadalarius will get on now.

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

Great stuff, as always. You have a real knack for catching the dramatic moments in screenshots.

As Alwyn said, there are some lovely lines. The one he mentioned is excellent, and this one

Winter covered the playing board that was Spain.

also caught my eye for some reason.

I like the way Odotheus doesn't really understand what's happening to him. I can't help wondering how dangerous that ignorance will be for him, though...

[Lugotorix]

THE CRISIS OF REGENCY

December 450 A.D.

Tarragon

Vandalarius holds on, on the edge of disaster

6th Century Garnet Brooch of the Ostrogoths

Tattered Taifal banners of the house of Theoderic returning from the north. The old familiar defeated look on their faces, soiled with dirt and smudges of crimson. All the luminance from their fierce eyes dimmed and snuffed. Then the carts of the dead to be buried in the capital. Their bones must hurt almost as much as hers, ancient as she was. All was powder and knives to her nerves as they grinded, looking from her window vigil, and wandering back to her bed to rest.

The snow was heavy around Tarragon, a world becoming harder to it’s denizens by each winter. The march on Pamplona had not gone as planned, and Vandalarius, learning of the reinforcements sent by Asturica under Gaius Anatolius Sabucius, would retreat to Zaragoza for the winter. Goiswintha, Queen of the Goths, watched these things with interest. Word soon circulated that the King of the Balti, her rivals, had been lost in the battle to a Norse band of hunters working for Avarius and Gostum the Hun, through a Pictish intermediary. In a hurry, she hid the poisoned meals and brandy she had been saving for the King’s return.

No word of Witigis. If he had died, all the better, now that her plan was aborted, better that he not contaminate the line of Vithericus with his royal Burgundian blood. He was free of the lanista Orcus, who lay dead and buried in an alley of the Spanish city.

The boy Odotheus had been quite the dancer and quite respectful to her during the galas. He was more verbal than others for his age, and she saw the promise of a good guard commander in him.
If there was ever a time to wipe out the Balti and secure Chlotsuintha upon the throne, it was now, but the Queen couldn’t bear the thoughts of robbing the little boys of their futures. What she knew, few others didn’t. She had never bedded the Balti High Judge Filimer. The children Widimir and Ammius had come from Vithericus’ loins. Ever faithful, and all the more worthwhile keeping pure. Witigis was a gentleman and a friend, but no match for the Princess. Better, the young Theodulf, a Gothic Saiones from her own house.

Hermanafrid, the queer son of Gesalec was too young and unaccomplished to succeed Filimer.

She was now queen, and there was no-one, not even Kriemhild, to stop her from carrying out her regency, but she knew that this was her last winter, and made no effort to placate the panic that broke out with the King dead, a crisis of succession and Vandalarius snowed in at Zaragoza. Now was no time for infants to rule.

They could seek the protection of the church. Ply for an end of hostilities with the Alemanni, and appeal to protecting the lands west of Rome from Avarius and the King Rugila, who was rumored to have become the new Hunnic king. Their bloodlust would be sated for a time with news of Filimer reaching them in satisfaction, grudgingly handing out the bounty to the Picts who had hired his bane, and greeted with celebration among the Alemanni, but they would be on the move to subjugate what was left of his realm soon. Without a leader, her people would fall like sinking stones. Was now the time to implement military rule. Was now the time for the House of Theoderic to act as caretakers for the Princess? Some semblance of a shepherd among the generals was better than a hollow monarchy, like the tribunes of the old republic.

If Gaius Anatolius Sabuccius could win a victory against the remnants of the army, he could reclaim Zaragoza. The realm of Tarragon would be confined to that city, the pagan isles where Gaatha ruled and a few outlying towns, and nothing would stop a nation with a navy like the Duccians in Africa, for coming to finish what their patron had started on Sardinia, under Trapstila. Lucceius Magnus would forsake the bonds and declare independence for the city of Narbo, should Vandalarius be eliminated.

Survival was hinged on a one armed Vandalarius and Witigis. Her grand-daughter would be devastated, should he fall.
She did the only thing that was expected of her. She would go to Kriemhild and demand the scepter and throne from her and the little runt Eutharic she had doubtlessly plopped upon it.
She gathered guards from her tower, and made the descent to the palace grounds. Passing her husband’s statue with the sign of the cross, she saw no sign of upheaval. The city-folk were in shock that great Filimer was dead. They clamored for a view of what would follow next within the palace. She entered the throne room, hearing nothing but a faint breathing noise. Kriemhild lay slain upon the floor. It was unclear what had killed her. Goiswintha, brave beyond her years, approached the body. She had some expertise in the area. Poison. She picked up the scepter. ‘Place this in the reliquary, we have no use for it, until Vandalarius has returned.’

‘The Queen killed herself in grief?’ A guard asked. ‘Perhaps. We are not alone. My ears are keen for my age.’ Goiswintha answered. There on the throne was four year old Eutharic, drooling from his mouth, his eyes looking sickly. ‘Mother gave me some. It made my stomach hurt.’ He said softly. Unaware that his mother would not be returning.
‘Why? Boy, answer me.’ Goiswintha asked the child. He was terrified. ‘She said bad people were coming to hurt us.’ His eye-lids flickered, and he trembled. The boy fell into unconsciousness. ‘I’ll not have the people see that boy upon the throne, get him into a bed, and keep him safe.’

Her old wrinkled eyes focused on a corner of the throne room, behind boxes of riches. She heard a creaking. She motioned for the guards to search the trove. As they moved for the shadows of and gleaming gold chests, she felt a dagger close to her side. It almost made her heart stop, and she questioned why it hadn’t already slashed her throat.
‘You’ve come to kill me?’ Odotheus tugged on her dress, saying in his cute naive voice. The boy peered up at her with a stiletto.

‘No, but you may yet change my mind. Who was the queen speaking of? Who are the invaders, my little prince?’ The boy wouldn’t hurt her, at his age he could do little more than pierce her skin.
‘She tried to catch me but I stopped her. They are coming from the sea. Some lord joined with the army of the Narbon helper. Romans queen, more than the Spain folk have brought.’ Odotheus answered. ‘Loyal to Duccius, is he, are you, boy?’ He shook his head furiously.

The guards circled on Odotheus and the Queen Goiswintha. ‘You little ingrate.’ She complained.

‘But you’ll take away Avidius, you’ll kill the sons of my dead father. He’s never coming back!’ Odotheus squealed, whining.

‘Aye, you’ve always been bright. We will, little prince. Now come and get yours like a warrior and not a skulking criminal and lady-killer.’ Said one of the guards.
Avidius emerged from where he was hiding. ‘I stopped the mad woman Kriemhild. Odotheus is my apprentice! Stop this at once.’

‘Avidius, run away!’ Said Odotheus in a pipsqueak voice as he charged the guard, who belted him across the face with one hand. The stiletto fell from his grasp. He was hauled up by the guard, kicking in a fit.
Goiswintha was impressed with the boy’s bravery, but her heart was pounding at the sight of the entire scene. ‘Perhaps one day he’ll make a better soldier than a mason’s helper.’ She said, glaring down at the guard who had threatened the boy.

‘Put him to bed. Daggers to you if he’s harmed.’ Goiswintha said, catching her breath and turning from the scene.
‘Traitors, Queen.’ The guard said.
‘Children. Avidius has given me a second lease on my husband, and he won’t be harmed either. I have a surrender to negotiate. There will be no more tragedy visited on the Goths, today.’
She saw the boys off to their beds, and then paused before the statue of Vithericus. The Herculean War was coming to an end. It would either be saved or damned by Romans, just as Vithericus had begun this saga through the usurpation of Romans in the East and West. Vithericus, the byword for cruelty, not the lover and father of two sons. The monster, the gargoyle who set his cousin to rape the crippled High Judge, not the good husband, the father who had tamed Egica, and given Ammius good tutelage under his great general Theoderic the Giant. She remembered when they had fought in battle together, her notching an arrow at Sirmium. He was not a good man, but a good ruler and ruthless commander, the ruler of her heart, and that heart was quaking. She would have acted more severely than Kriemhild had it been Vithericus who had perished not far from the capital, and defeat was certain. And now so it was, but that heart didn’t have the strength to inflict any severity. The Gothic ambition was in ruin, a Roman city with a Roman populace, to be liberated by Romans. She gave the order to greet the navy without violence. Vandalarius would be recalled in peace, should their fortunes fade further.

Goiswintha returned to her quarters, and laid in her bed and thought of the statue of Vithericus until her flesh became as rigid and cold as the statue itself. She died of natural causes that night. Too much stress on the old heart of the Queen. If the Goths weren’t leaderless and at the mercy of this Roman general before, they were now.

Caesaraugusta, Zaragoza

The march north had been delayed. Vandalarius was losing faith in God above. The Hispanians had marshaled a general named Gaius Anatolius from Asturica, and forced him to retreat to the safety of Probinus’ old city. He sent many of his riders back to recuperate, and he prayed. He had never been a pious man, as the fates had robbed him of his brother, but the Romans outnumbered him, and Filimer’s decimated force was not enough to retake the north of the Kingdom. But what was a Kingdom without a King. And what was Tarragon if it was the African murderers of Liuva at the helm of the fleet that would arrive in the spring. They needed a miracle.

‘You pray in vain, Vandalarius.’ Witigis told him. ‘Roman war ships have been sighted at the far shores. Even if we had enough strength to hold off Sabuccius and the Alemanni, they would liberate Narbo, and put Tarragon to the torch. Our dream was just that, a dream.’ Witigis murmured. He would stay with his commander to the end.

‘I refuse to tell that to my standard bearers, to the veteran Goths and Taifali, old men who have migrated from Adrianople to Pamplona!’ He returned to his mumbling prayers. It was a Hail Mary. Prayers for victory over the Hispanians, and peace with whatever leader was at the head of the armada. Prayers that Valdamerca had not been slain the in the fall of Constantinople to the Flavians. If God did not give deliverance, then Christendom was never worth defending for all the years against the pagan slaves of the Huns. His thoughts as the winter went on became more bitter. Sabuccius was growing greater in numbers, and the volunteers from Caesaraugusta didn’t look like they’d be enough for a defense. When spring came the surrender issued by the last queen would be enacted, and he would find a humble life or summary execution, one not of the greatness of the former dream.

One night, he saw that Witigis was praying as well, and he asked him why, to which he answered, so that he would see the beautiful face of his beloved Chloe once more. That was a re-assuring thought, as both aims coincided in the eyes of the Lord.