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

[Lugotorix]

The Triumvirate Falls- The Year of our Lord 436

True to his word, Gundulf and his regiments of spear masters camped at their fort for two nights to recuperate, while the other half of his army took anything of value to a decimated army from Caesaraugusta. All of the grain-stores of the rich farmlands of Tarraconensis were plundered for porridge for Gundulf’s haggard men. The march to Tarraco would take another season, leading into the summer of 436. The torrential rains and thunderstorms continued, and it was not until he reached Tarraco that they abated, if only for a day. The Lombards saw this as an omen that old pagan Donar was in action through God almighty, when thunder would rumble and herald the arrival of the two armies. God was bowling, they said.

As had been mentioned, the closest legion to the crisis in Italy was that of Gundemar in Aquiae Sextis, near Massalia. The allowance of the Caledonians to settle in norther Gaul, had spurred invasions by other Celtic groups such as the Picts, who had taken up residence in Belgica and Frisia. The legion of Gundemar was marching east to reinforce Milano from the Hun armies that had broken through, when scouts reported that the inheritors of Roman Britain, led by Dux Bellorum Servius Favonius Strabo had crossed the channel and had marched through Pictish and Caledonian territory into Gaul, and finally Narbonensis, putting Aquiae and it’s fabled stables at risk.

Their motivation, was, of course, the trespasses of Gundulf against their Romano-Gallic brothers, and the alliances with the Celts, notably the Ebdanians, which had gone sour during this collapse. Gundemar defended the province from the Romano-British, who ruled from a round table, albeit with heavy casualties to the Celtic allies of the Romans that had joined the army in it’s trek from Britannia. Hermenegild was turning to reinforce on the main front, but without Gundemar’s numbers, Segusio, perhaps even Aquiae Sextis was doomed to the plundering legion of Archon Arxa, who struck west across Liguria toward Milano, as Gundulf delayed.

Consumed by the taste of vengeance, Gundulf realized the consequences of his actions, but sent a letter to the Emperor that he would sail from Tarraco and that the fate of the weakened Tranquilus was of no consequence, with the Alemanni now becoming hostile to them. He also had a legacy to maintain. His sons Eraric and Vithimiris were growing older, and the conquest of the most powerful port in the western Mediterranean would be an excellent gift to their names and stature within the empire. Gundulf was already one of the strongest tacticians, but he had been relying on coin much too often for victory of late, as stressed as his army was, and wanted the ends to justify the means.

After the defeat of the British expedition, Gundemar could do nothing but hold his forces at Aquaie, waiting for Arxa, who was free, along with Bastarnians and Burgundians, to lay siege to Milano.

Dux Bellorum Servius Favonius Strabo- The Wishes Round Table of Britain

Chlodovech, the headstrong eldest son of Fastida meant to assert his authority in Hispania. With all of Baetica, Lusitania, and Carthaginensis long being lands of the Alamans since the days of the migration into Spain by groups such as the Jutes, the Alemanni would have none of the Lombards expanding from their boon-town at Elusa into Tarraconensis. To strike fear into the Lombards, Chlodovech joined with Gundulf’s army as it marched south. His numbers were truly diminished, relying on mercenaries from the breadth of Iberia, and had only two regiments of heavy horse with his army.

He was confronted by a much larger force of Tranquilus who demanded his surrender, upon which time he would be freed and sent home with his surviving men to Italy, very much as he had intended, from the port of Taracco. Gundulf maneuvered through the hills for many weeks, evading patrols of the larger Roman army, picking up mercenary bands as he went, using the campaign finance first afforded by Eutharic to bankruptcy.

Finally, out of options, he met the secondary Roman force, cornered, but it was Chlodovech who came to his aid. Together, the Alemanni and Gundulf destroyed the force led by Structus, which retreated south to Tarraco, and the march south could continue. Forever in the debt of Chlodovech, Gundulf made several promises to him, that he would never be able to keep, regarding lavish rewards from Ravenna.

Prince Chlodovech and the Alemanni versus Gallica

On a clear day bright day, a lull in the dreadful weather of the entire campaign, as Gundulf and his besieging army stood before Tarraco, with the Legio X Gemina prepared to enter the city, a negotiator was sent into the city to demand it’s surrender.
Tranquilus scoffed at the notion of surrender, at first comparing Gundulf to a stubborn wayward boy, about to be scolded by his master. But then inviting the negotiator up to the palace in Tarraco for several glasses of wine.

Tranquilus beckons for peace with Gundulf

The negotiator’s name was Janus Josephus Phocas of Benevento, a Roman, who could speak the Latin of the empire, as well as that of the church well, and had large, honest eyes and a white smile and expressive cheeks. He was welcomed into the palace by Tranquilus personally, who turned his calm, dopey eyes to his guest and beckoned him in, past the Cyclopean walls that helped make Tarragona famous.

He walked through the marbled halls, in awe of how peaceful and Spartan a place of authority could be, with none of the trophies or decorum of a Gothic warlord’s hall. He finally came to the King’s quarters, and there he saw the decorum, a simple marble bust of Honorius at age fifteen, and Saturninus at age seventy. Tranquilus’ weapons were upon the wall, along with a mannequin with a cuirass of armor. Tranquilus whistled a fifing tune, and poured a glass of wine for Janus.
‘You still cherish the memory of Saturninus?’ The negotiator said cautiously.

‘Yes, a great man. I could think of no wiser ally to preserve the Western Empire. Perhaps if Vithericus had not been such a cruel conqueror, I would have never joined the splinters of Honorius’ wayward sons, and stayed in the service of Saturninus, the true emperor, after Stilicho’s death, rather than be a petty Rex. I was a a young man, then. And the world was young, and now it is nearing it’s end. The Thuringians have been destroyed, soon the Germanic hordes who took our homes will have none of their own.’

‘Foolish words. Do not despair. The Roman and Gothic guardians of Italy endure, King Tranquilus. If Honorius had been a bit kinder to the foederati of Vandals and Goths, and had not ordered the massacres in Illyria, perhaps we would, some fifty years earlier, still served the empire faithfully till now, against the Huns all the same. As it stands, Gesalec is a stalwart steward of the west. Attila will be defeated by Magister Miletum Trapstilicus and Strategon Sigericus.’

‘Ah, Trapstilicus, savior of the Roman people, or champion of his own cunning? To have married Gaatha, cousin of Vithericus, and arranged himself to such lofts. And Sigericus, a daft drunk with brutish ways, most of all in the bedrooms of Savva and Eutharicus, when the frightened boys lived.’

‘Sigeric is married, sire.’

‘And Eutharicus died bravely at the hands of the Uar, Burgundians, and Heruli. I've had my spies roll with him. These things are not the sum of a man’s character.’ Tranquilus said softly.

‘ Then show your character, and permit my lord Gundulf Yellow-Beard to enter your city and ensure your intentions are peaceable.’ Janus said. He could tell the man was at peace with God, and would have no disturbances to his sucre here, or the rich trade lanes that plied to the Attian Pilate or the Vandals across the Mediterranean, or Naples itself.

‘I will do no such thing. I offer him peace, nothing more. This city has stood for fifty years in the domain of Gallica, with I as it’s King. Now that King is an ally of Gesalec, an ally of this savior of Italy, Trapstilicus, and Gundulf, Gundulf is in renege of his liege lord’s orders. Walk from this sanctum, and offer him the olive branch. Tell him he may use our port to sail and serve the city of Rome, with my blessing, and the blessing of Christ, but by Christ he has coveted his neighbor’s joy, this my capital, and coveted vengeance and wrath.’

‘You are a peaceful man,’ Said Janus Josephus Phocas. ‘ I will relay your word, but unfortunately Gundulf believes hostilities between our domains have re-commenced.’
The skies grew dark and thunder was brewing. The shadows of the brooding sky crept into the formerly bright chambers, and their open windows.

‘Indeed they have. Which is why I sent a negotiator to his camp as well, with the same offer, and the armies of Orangius Cotta and Bruttius Structus at their back.’

THE BATTLE OF TARRACO

Captain Mundus, one of the heroes of the bloody battle, the eventual first conqueror of the port of Tarragon

The final battle took place near the magnificent aqueduct outside the city of Tarraco. The survivors of the clash against the Alemanni had joined with Orangius Cotta and Bruttius Structus. Gundulf first led with his heavy horse, which charged across the storm amidst lightning and booming thunder. The battlefield was muddy which did not help the weight of the horses, but they were fresh, and inflicted early casualties to the depleted ranks of Structus’ force, he forced some of the Comitensis into route when the horses spun and entered a second charge. The Comes of Cotta’s force rode hard and joined the skirmish that heralded the sure march of the schiltrom of Spear Masters. Despite their losses to the Lombards and later the Alemanni, the Roman ranks were still heavily composed of cavalry, and this is why Gundulf was hoping for a siege, in fact on his way to encircle the city when he was confronted by the negotiator.

The charge is met



The mercenary captains distinguish themselves



The spear masters in their heavy armor and woven cloaks formed a wide wall of spears and marched slowly, knowing that the rainfall would only add to their exhaustion.

Gundulf would keep his head, and bellow orders to hold the line from behind, while the spears confronted the palatina and light infantry in their chainmail. The modern Roman legionary was much more equipped to the heavy rain fall than those of centuries past, including the third century.

The Comes lancers are confronted by the spear masters

The spear masters began skewering the heavy horse of the Roman Comes, including the Royal guard with their purple cloaks. Bruttius Structus was the first to die, brought down by a javelin thrown from the tight ranks of spears. Each of the spear master was equipped with a quiver of them, and they hurled them again and again, bringing down the horses.

Seeing that Bruttius had finally been brought down, after two previous clashes with him, Gundulf became eager, and ordered his Gothic nobles and Saiones to enter the fray, to break the remaining horses. In the pitched battle he did not notice the size of the force levied in the impressive barracks of Tarraco, and the Roman legionaries began to encircle the Goths. The spear masters fought valiantly, entering frenzies and being ordered to hold steady while the Gothic heavy cavalry could charge again and again against the flanks of the wide and smothering Roman line.

Soon enough, the Romans began to break at the edges, more-so from the javelins hurled into their cluttered bulk than actual melee.

Gundulf, his instincts going for the jugular of the faltering Romans, orders a charge.

Gundulf, see the edges beginning to fray entered battle himself, and was shocked to see a man behind him to his left, speared, spattering blood over the Commander. He fought on desperately trying to reach Cotta. Cotta had his own plans for Gundulf. ‘For your folly, Goth oath-breaker!’ He shouted, instructing his men to focus on attacking Gundulf’s boyguards and the nobles who served him. The Saiones began to fall from the javelins hurled by the remaining Romans, and the Legio pushed through the center of the spears, focusing on the head.

Gundulf could see the aqueduct, he swore he could see the distant walls of Tarraco itself in the distance, and kept his glare on Septimus Cotta in the foreground, high on his horse. ‘Spears, schiltrom, we have killed Structus, push on against this last respite of Tranquilus, scour this eye-sore from the battlefield! Slay Septimus Cotta, and his meek offer is for naught!’

The spears followed his bellowing instructions and made for the Roman general, only to leave the Gothic nobles and Gundulf behind, in melee with the legionaries. Gundulf fought fiercely, his blonde beard swaying slack in the rain and dark blue skies crying upon the men and the turmoil.

Gundulf blocked a spear-point and grinned savagely as he dealt the offending Roman soldier and piercing stab to the liver with his longsword. And in that motion, another spear split straight through Gundulf’s beard. In caught in the beard, and snapped Gundulf head back and forth as the soldier desperately tried to free his spear so he could defend himself. With one jerking heave, Gundulf’s head was torn from his shoulders, and blood spouted across the battlefield, with the renegade General’s head hanging by it’s beard upon the spear. The soldier was soon thereafter cut down. Perhaps the last thing Gundulf had seen, was his troops overpowering Septimus Cotta and bringing him down from his horse!

Both sides chase one another from the field.

The aftermath of the battle was a phyrric one. Both armies left the field, with the Romans in no position to defend Tarraco for an extended period of time, and the Gothic forces ill-suited to live out their own siege, and all of the participating commanders slain in the battle. Only Tranquilus remained, and the captains who had distinguished themselves in the doomed legion of Leon, the X Gemina, the legion of Widimir the Heir, from decades past. The captains of Gundulf promised each-other that Gundulf’s mission would not be in vain and that the port of Tarraco would be secured.

Sigeric and Trapstila, in Italy, were running out of allies fast. Attila and Arxa were bringing their own brand of terror to the north of the peninsula.

The renegade general has met his doom. Whether the Romano-Gothic Empire can compensate will be covered in our next part- face to face.

[Alwyn]

A great chapter with stunning images, as ever, and a grim death for Gundulf. Running out of allies when Attila and Arxa are coming sounds like a dangerous situation.

[Lugotorix]

Part II

The Throne for the Crown

Ravenna

November, 436 A.D.

The enemies of the the house of Theoderic, Visigothic nobles and Romans who considered the Taifali a more savage clan, had forced Gesalec to issue an Imperial decree that I be proclaimed comes Magister Miletum

In Autumn of 436 A.D. The Burgundians and the Bastarnians are just among many Dacian and Germanic groups who have formed an unholy alliance with the Huns: With the Thuringians vanquished, the Marcomans look for vengeance for their allies, but are on the run and outnumbered.

Christ protect us. The terror of the Huns was upon Italy, with the traitor to Christendom, the Abasgian Archon Arxa, leading the way, deep into Liguria, where he extorted villages for their support in the war, and looted anything to sustain his army further. I rarely prayed often, but I prayed for strength to face the end with dignity. Immigrants were surging into the empire from the kingdoms that fell one by one to the might of Attila.

Winter had come to the province of Venetia, and I had left Ancona with my wife Gaatha for a northernly vantange of the gathering storm of Hunnic invaders. The earth had grown cold, and those steppe riders, Scirii and Heruli, Bulgars and Burgundians among them, were more adjusted to the salting of the fields of the north in Liguria than since the times of Hannibal. We received word that the garrison in Milano had come under siege and been slaughtered, and the Huns sent us a trophy of Fritigern, who had led it’s defense against the Archon Arxa.

Captain Mundus had made good on Gundulf’s promises broken, and stormed Tarragon and had it’s governor arrested. Tranquilus would be arriving in Neapolis by boat soon, and he would be welcomed with apologies. Meanwhile Mundus had secured a landing at Tarraco, and sent a fleet to assist us near Genoa.

We were in the tower of the Gothic palace in Ravenna, overlooking through a window, the cold downpoar, as if there were phantoms of the Huns that might emerge charging on their horses with ropes and lassos at any moment from the hills. Ravenna was quiet. Smoke billowed and the hearths worked, but the people were all frightened with the fate of Mediolanum, and the thousands slaughtered there. The huddled around crosses, praying to the Saints and Jesus and Mary, lambs, when we were in need of lions. Sigeric would be that lion, and about as bright, if certainly as courageous, and as would I.

Following the sacking of Milano, Mediolanum, former capital of the Western Roman Empire, a Bastarnian horde following on the heels of Arxa and Attila had taken residence in it’s smoldering ruins. The Huns, mostly keeping to their saddles, could cover great distances at once, and I was with Sigeric and Gesalec, at the ceremony that placed I, Trapstilicus at the head of the war effort as Warlord of the Goths and Romans, Magister Miletum of the Romans and Goths.

At the age of 55, Hunila Domatiana had perished to the cold, severing in a way our ties to the east, no matter how well we had provided warmth and comfort for her, and Gesalec was in a foul mood. He had ordered the greatest wall constructed past the Servian, and was developing a reputation as a great builder. Our Quadrian allies in the north of Italy had either fallen in skirmishes to the enemy or defected.

‘Mediolanum has been sacked. And over 500,000 Huns pillage the north of Italy’ Repeated Sigeric dully and with a tinge of fear. Gesalec nodded to him, and placed his hand on his shoulder. Even a brute had an understanding of strategy, from the ruins of Salona to the threatened Aquiae Sextus. Attila was putting a heavy net over us.

‘My lord, there still may be time to parlay with Attila, for all the injuries and set-backs we haven given him so far.’ I said to Gesalec.

‘There is no reasoning with a mongrel with lock-jaw. I have received word that Fulcaire, High King of the Marcomans will march south from Noricum where they have sought refuge, and assist us in purging the north of the Huns, they may even be able to confront this vindictive Archon Arxa. The forces of the Agorians will not be assisting us, they were trapped between the Hunnic numbers in the Alps and they have instead offered a ransom to the Huns for their safe passage back to the east.’

‘It was for the sins of the Eastern Empire that Arxa has embarked on this vendetta.’ I answered. ‘ What have you promised Fulcaire?’

He was cautious in the way he spoke, concessions were not something an Emperor spoke proudly of. ‘Verona, where he can resettle his people and find a measure of peace, before he serves as foederati with equal pay as our soldiers, along with our newly settled Lombard allies in Elusa and the Aquitaine. With God’s blessing, they will return from the west in time to assist the defense of Narbonensis in Provence.’

Sigeric answered glumly. ‘ No coin, even with your handsome imperial face on it can ensure that these Germanians, freshly just pagan, will face death on our behalf to protect the See and Rome.’ He leaned towards Gesalec, eager to hear instructions of his part in the defense to come.

‘Then by your damning words you will serve in their place, should they not arrive as a last resort, I expect you to rally the legio comitensis of Rome and the Palatina defectors who have abandoned the failed uprising of Saturninus and raise a Roman army to face this menace to Rome. You will fight to the death, Sigeric, to wash your hands of the sins of Sodom and Gommorah. You are a Gothic noble, not some Taifali weakling.’

‘No such penance is needed, you seem on edge about the death of your sister. And do not disparage the Taifali, I will be recruiting their bands loyal to the son-in-law of the Magister Miletum’ Sigeric answered, a bit annoyed.

I interrupted them, hoping they wouldn’t come to a head over such a trival issue. I had been approached by a messenger that Attila’s councilers were pensive about the invasion due to portents from the great watching sky and winds. Attila would see Rome sacked, but had no intention of occupying Italy, instead wishing concessions and marriages of his many generals to our noblewomen, with the dowry of vast tracts of the empire.

‘Arxa is without heed, but a shaman of Tengri the sky god of the Huns named Sandlich will have words with our agents. He sees an omen in our fortunate cold rains of late, and the muddied fields of Latium and Reate that have resulted. It makes treacherous going for their horses, and he seeks to bring terms to Attila that will sate his bloodlust.’

‘We’ll give that to Achilius. I expect him to have an understanding with the man, and if possible, bring unwelcome council to the camp of the Great Kan to worry Attila’s nerves.’ Gesalec answered, stroking his yellow short beard. He resembled Egica. If only he had known the truth of Vithericus’ words to me about his death. Now was not the time, with his sister just laying cold, but it would ease his suspicions about his generals true former loyalty to Eutharic and the laurels.

‘Magister Miletum Trapstilicus, you will serve here in Ravenna and Ancona until war is finally upon us.’

Gaatha strode into the room. She was soaked in sweat and the cold rain. ‘I was riding to the north near Arminium. I instructed my scout equites to investigate a rumbling that no thunder could cause. It was the thunder of horses and infantry. The Huns are approaching Ravenna, with siege engines and all the outfitting of a force prepared to lay Ravenna to siege. The Burgundians and Heruli have joined them with many defectors of the Quadrians. War is upon us.’

‘Where is the Great Kan, Gaatha, where is Attila, the Scourge of God.’ I demanded, quickly.
‘Playing a brazen fool, he is spearheading a march on Rome itself.’

Gesalec was pale at that moment and sighed, almost groaning. ‘ He is no fool, he seeks glory for the prestige he has lost to the Bulgar. We cannot defend Ravenna, Ancona, and Rome at once from their half a million in numbers.’
I, now Magister Miletum answered. ‘Then our hopes lay with this Sandlich, shaman of Tengri. If Achilius could make him turn coat, he could be a vital asset in trapping Attila in the Via Salaria through the Appenines, and reporting on his whearabouts, should he become too bold. Sigeric and your highness could decimate his force and then make way to relieve my position here, which I will hold to the last man, in Christ’s name.’

I steeled my hands and held my wife, who rushed to me tightly. I stammered at first, knowing that doom awaited to the north, within just miles, and that the siege would take it’s toll on me physically and mentally, my children may not even survive it, with the bubonic plague and typhus stalking the lands.
‘My emperor, Sigeric, flee and rally the men. Prepare to be valiant, though I may be broken by the end of this bloody siege. Roma Eternum must be preserved if darkness is not to fall on the west. Bring me Achilius at once. He may need more than charms to entrap the vile creature.’

From the lofty towers of the palace in Ravenna, the shrill screaming of horses could be heard amidst the pelting rains. They sensed the coming terror as much as my bones did. Gesalec made to gather their belongings from their quarters and put them on carriages and carts to leave for the south and Rome. They were fleeing, to an uncertain future.

[Lugotorix]

The Battle of the Rietini Mountains in Latium
Reate and Monte Terminillo


Spring, 437 A.D.

Mount Terminillo

Achilius had been quite suave in his persuasion of the Shaman Sandilch. She was a woman, to his sensual surprise and after they had proceeded with congress after drugging her with nightshade, which he had said was a customary drink upon such negotiations, he extorted the shaman and councilor of Attila into the service of the Gothic empire, by convincing her that they were in holy matrimony in the eyes of the Latin church, plying to her weakness that she would be executed and far worse if she turned away Achlilius’ offers of protection, and the affair became known to the Huns. She was unhappy with the treatment of Hunnic captives, and believed that Attila was defying the will of Tengri by refusing to enter into a bargain for a cessation of hostilities. Gesalec was not known for being a strong ruler, and the Italian rebels had bolstered in number sensing weakness in Venetia. Perhaps a coup among the Roman generals and Tranquilus, restored to power at the docks in Neapolis would bring the Amali to their knees, and a rightful Roman resistance could stop the Huns.

'You have your extra-curricular activities, mistress, and I have mine.'

He began extorting her for information, using a manipulative charm, hypnotic potions and sleight of hand that made him seem mystical, and in the coming year, she became a reliable servant of Gesalec, who boded uneasily in Rome. The siege upon Ravenna had escalated to the Huns travelling around the blockaded city to Ancona, and the Magister Miletum’s own territory was under threat of starvation by the ringing whirls of Hunnic dervishes that circled the city. With the salting of the fields in the north, and the pillaging of grain stores, famine crept across Italy, and the people were put to the breaking point. Not even Rome was unscathed from the ravages of hunger and the desperation it caused.

The adversary besieging Trapstilicus at Ravenna was called Bleda, perhaps a descendant of Attila’s murdered brother, and he was relentless, encircling the city and killing any runners who attempted to approach his camp or flee for word of reinforcements. With starvation gripping Rome, Gesalec knew that he had but one chance to defeat the Hunnic armies which had overwhelmed the defenses and borders of Italy. He would have to behead the serpent. He would have to strike at Attila himself with Sigeric’s legion of the Wooden Thracians.

The information Sandilch provided was beginning to be known as reliable, so when Attila made his push for Rome, she informed on his whereabouts on a day where as usual in this season of late, it was pouring rain. Attila’s vanguard was positioned on a hill in the region of Latium, near Riete, a vital city on the Via Salarian, the passage notable for salt trade through the Apennine mountains to the Adriatic. Between the Reatini Mountains and Mount Terminillo, Sigeric would make a desperate appeal to slay the barbaric leader of the Huns. It had come down to this, Gesalec mused, one chance to salvage all his uncle and God had created, and save his people.

This would not be an easy task, the Huns had the high ground, but visibility was poor due to the rain, so the Gothic army, reinforced by the entire garrison of the city of Rome and nearby Latium, joined them in a desperate gamble, and positioned mounted raiders in the lowland forests to the east of the foot hill of the Reatini Mountains where Attila and his artillery were stationed. No less than four other regiments of cavalry joined the main Gothic force to ride ahead and scare Attila’s force into moving into the trap on lower ground where they could be held.

The Salarian Way



Gesalec and Sigeric make their one shot count, with Hannibalistic tactics.

Sigeric did not have to be intelligent to know the strategy that could corner the multitudes of horse archers that made up Attila’s cavalry, so with Gesalec’s input, they devised a plan to spread their lines as long and loose as possible until contact was made, either to divide the Huns into manageable skirmishes, given their ample amount of Gothic archers, and Palatina defectors with javelins to stifle any Hunnic charges, as well as the archery of the Taifali, who had joined in great numbers from the stables of Rome.

The artillery try to pin down the waiting troops in the low crevasse, their numbers hidden by the trees.

The Hunnic horses were unsteady and the nomadic men were concerned when from their vista between the mountains, they saw the wide formation approaching. Even with Reggio and Syracuse in rebellion, Attila didn’t know how many loyal Romans had mustered from south of Rome up to the Tiber. Some nervously ate salted beef and vomited what water they had downed into the rain. The days of torrential rain had muddied the ground and the horses did not have easy going. Even the first charges sent against he skirmishing raiders who came into range caused some of the horses to collapse and slip in the torrid mud.

The pride and elite of the Hunnic army, in full mobilization

The Romano-Gothic formation elongated to the high and low ground approaching the hill. Those in the low ground would try to lure charges from the Huns into the muddy pools at the bottom of the hill, where , in the nearby forest, raiders and Taifali were waiting to engage them, while those on the high ground would keep broader to the north-west to stop any retreat but north, away from Rome. The tactics used by Sigeric were not unlike that of Aetius in another life at the Catalaunian Fields. The Huns would be held on their own hill. He had a sweetheart who had care and compassion for his simple manner, Amalafrida, a Amali noblewoman, and she had promised him her hand in marriage should he be victorious.

Gesalec was on the field, drinking water from his helmet. It was true, there had been no shortage of water in the famine. This was the Ostrogoths and Rome’s darkest hour, and it seemed the heavens wept for one of the two armies. A spurned retreat with few casualties would be an acceptable response from the Huns, and give the rallying armies to the south time to perhaps break the siege at Ancona before moving north to Ravenna. Also there was a good chance that with any victory over Attila, the Italian rebels to the south in Reggio would join the Gothic armies and cede their gains over the empire, convinced that the key to deliverance from the Huns lay with Gesalec.

Attila, none the bloated eagle Theoderic had fancied him, watched like a bird of prey from the high hill. He motives were to bring the Goths to the suffering he had felt when he was injured in the clash in Dardania, and avenge his many dead. Only when they were humbled, their leaders intestines strewn from arrows, would they accept the Great Kan as their sovereign lord. The eastern half of the Romano-Gothic Empire would be his asking price, and Rome and Italy a captive to give tribute whenever his horde desired while Mundus and Hermenegild would be left to fend off his now passive servants, the Alemanni, a pact he had forged with the eldest son of Fastida for avoiding the Alemanni lands in his rampage across central Europe. Chlodovech, Clovis of the Alemanni, would turn a blind eye and then devour these brownies in their new world, and they would be sent packing to serve in the old one, under the thumb of the Hunnic Empire, as they always had.

These terms, which the remaining Goths would graciously accept, would provide the living room for the dispossessed tribes and kingdoms such as the Burgundians who had left their lands to serve in Attila’s horde. Then he would be in a comfortable position to deliver on his promises to Arxa for vengeance on the whole of the Domatian Empire in the east, and his mighty nomads would straddle the black sea in an empire that would rival the great Greuthungians these Ostrogtohs were sired from. They would bend the knee just like any others, and the wealthy Romans would atone with gold for their trespasses against the westernly wind, the true will of Tengri.

He knew someone had given away his armies location, not that of the hundreds of horse-bands behind him, and that it was most likely a traitor. These Goths were unprepared for the full might of his most chosen warriors. It would be a bloody day, and then the traitor’s identity would be tortured from the surviving wretches. His men looked sallow in the rain, the Heruli and Scirii pale, as if the cold rain had washed away their blood. Their limbs must be numb, good, it would brace from any blow of the swords of the Romans. There were many foederati in the Gothic army, but the pikes mostly lingered in the reserves with the Emperor and his general, the catamite Sigericus. He would cut them to pieces later with his fighting Uar.

Attila, the extortionist enemy of the free people of the empire, has gone too far, and in his bestial rage, is in the sights of Gothic killers

He left a patch of trees on the hill and ordered the horns to be blown. His horses would reach the enemy before they reached the incline of the hill, and they would die in numbers for every inch further.

The first spear-point of a massive Hunnic charge, confident in their experience and outfitting

Gesalec was on foot, wearing the armor of Vithericus. He proudly tipped the helm of his uncle, securing the spire, and ordered his men into a run. Sigericus remained behind. The men required the Emperor’s morale, but Sigeric would spring with his reserves when the beast was spotted. His pikes would bring the stout stallions down in short order.

Gesalec looks the part of the warrior, but has never been trained with use of his uncle's shield and sword. He's an accountant.

What began with crashing charges on the brink of the hill, like the Catalaunian plains, soon devolved into a Cannae for the Hunnic horses. Too eager they ran through the Gothic infantry who were lacking in spears, but soon found themselves flanked on either side by a tightening noose to the west and Rome by those who had not yet engaged. This caused even more of the Huns to rush out to meet them, abandoning the onagers, which sent round after round into the slower moving pikes of the Goths.

The Hunnic captains such as Attila's cousins, are heavily and well armored.

Sigeric finally ordered his pikes to near the site of the battle which had horses leaving their own high ground and crashing into level ground with hungry Romans at their last straw. They had nothing to lose and fought with more ferocity among the horses, than discipline, in their chainmail with adorned parma. Even when the Uar warrior entered the battle, the Romans fought more like barbarians with only the cautious calls of their captains keeping them from complete abandon and in formation.

Even the best Hunnic infantry are too few to stop the wide, less effectual, but more numerous web Sigeric and Gesalec have spun for Attila

The ploy to the east had worked quite well. At first Attila had ordered his Chieftains guards to slay group after group of archers and lightly armored antiquated pikes, as well as the first waves of Gothic raiders, but soon he too found himself decimating too many of the enemy, and had run out of Roman to run down. Confused, his guardsmen charged towards the bulk of the Palatina defectors, who were nearly receiving reinforcements from the pike wall guarding Sigeric’s slow advance. More importantly, they were in the range of the Gothic archers, long bows, and Sagittarrius of the Romans.

A Heruli vassal of Attila is killed before him, showing him the toll of his aggression.

The Huns were not without range themselves and fired volley after volley in their heavy armor from the position next to the onagers. Attila had killed many men in this his battle and fought fiercely, with both short-bow and his fabled sword, but a warrior on a horse was an easy target for masses of loose guarded archers, and he winced as arrows flew over head, striking down a few of his trusted guards.

Too close for comfort for a Kan.

He had penetrated far too deep. With what looked like fear in his wild eyes, he and his chieftains broke for the low ground and the forest to join what looked like a winnable scenario there, out of the range of the arrows. As he fled, his black horse tearing across the mud, two arrows pierced the neck of his horse. He cried out then as the horse gaited onwards, until the slowed pace of the steed, allowed a sniper to take aim at him, just as he confronted a woman warrior of the Gothic masses. It was Sandilich. 'The wind blows this way, great Kan!' She shrieked. His heart fell, and an arrow pierced his back shoulder-blade. They must have been truly desperate. Like a wounded animal he cut the traitorous woman down in fury, losing control of the situation, out of range to his runners to give orders to the rest of the army. He frantically looked and saw that captains of the Nokkors were running to reinforce him from the deep formation on the hill.

Attila, the scourge of god, finally knows the fear and pain of his mortal victims

Finally, the dread of the steppes, has begun to bleed, pierced in his shoulder by an arrow. His horse takes two arrows to it's chest.

The Palatina were victorious against the charging horses to the south, and rushed towards the copse where Attila and a band of Nokkors were slaughtering the raiding horses that remained there. Palatina defectors were dying there too, and the men were eager to join their brethren against the Nokkors in their plate armor.

What they didn’t know, was that the true enemy was hidden in the woods, fighting on a sagging mount, and bleeding from his back, struck already on the fore-head, blood streaming down his face. He saw the fires set by his own onager, and Huns thrown from their horses all around, and he and the three chieftains that remained with him rode for the Terminillo mountain, to retire for the day. However as he saw the Nokkors taking control in the woods, he circled back to join them, and show his bravery though injured.

Just in time for the Romans Comitenses to make it to the forest, which had obscured the Kan’s view of the field. A Roman captain, Eucherius Regillus, with a crested helm knocked Attila back on his horse. Attila the Hun, sagged from one side of his saddle, from straps on his horse: he fought them off the best he could, until an arrow pierced clear through his bow hand, spraying blood on Eucherius, and one of Eucherius men finished the job, slicing into the chest of the Hunnic Great Kan with his longsword, cutting the straps that held the Kan to his saddle, and then butchering the already wounded horse.

Eucherius, the forever unsung man of the hour. Attila is grievously hacked from his horse.

Eucherius didn’t recognize the stricken leader from any other pin-hole eyed slimy savage and the stink from the spleen of the horse was sickening. ‘Tent 22, Heraclia, stay here and deal with the rest of the Nokkors. Those with me, to the front!’ Eucherius called, ordering his men to the base of the hill, leaving Attila wheezing blood, flat on his back in the muddy mire beneath the trees.

It began with a few bubbles, then a drop and a stinging in his nose. Slowly, Attila began to drown in his own blood.

They think they have the archers in a position to surrender, but the orders have stopped being shouted in Turko-Ungric from the hill. The army is leaderless.

The fighting began to lull. The Huns were unaware of their leader whereabouts, and realized that a slowed retreat through the mud and stinging rain being harassed by the raiders would be preferable to fighting with a decapitated army. The onagers were lit on fire, to prevent them from falling into Romano-Gothic hands. On the hill, with a crescent of blood and bodies splattered in a crescent on it’s base, the snipers with their long-bows ordered the Heruli, Burgundians, Bulgars, and Scirii into a marching retreat, while they picked off any lightly injured but slower surviving Romans within range.

The pikes marched onwards, led by Sigeric. Gesalec’s nobles had fought some, but the Emperor remained unblemished. A horse was lended to Gesalec who rode to Sigeric who was on foot with his shield and the sword of Theoderic. The man’s nose had been broken by a sling bullet, and the sword of Theoderic dripped with blood.

‘Our pikes will clear the field and take the hill. I want Attila’s body, if there’s anything left of his face, brought to Rome and placed in a gibbet. Order the horses to stop, I want to conserve their stamina for the march to finish off these curs and relieve the Count and Magister Miletum.’

‘Indeed.’ Growled Sigeric, with a bib of blood around his mouth. He raised his sword and shouted ‘The King of Huns is vanquished!’ In a booming voice. ‘Do not pursue men! Recover Attila and the eagle banner of the Huns and bring them to Reate.’

‘ Amalafrida has fine cures for your wounds, Sigeric. Welcome to the family.’ Gesalec added.

Attila heard the words ‘The King of Huns must be vanquished.’ Yelled somewhere distant on the field. He attempted to rise, but the exertion caused him to burp a dollop of spewing blood and sent him into a dark red blackening hole. Red, the signs of sunlight, he thought.

[Alwyn]

Exciting times with an epic fight against Attila. In the previous chapter, the discussion of the 'terror of the Huns' in Italy and the sacking of Mediolanum built up the atmosphere of imminent threat very effectively.

[baozi]

I love your scene with Attila being downed from his horse. Absolutely amazing

[Lugotorix]

THE BROKEN BOW

Alp, Ellac, Balamber, and Bleda assume control of the Hunnic hordes with Attila's whereabouts unknown

Attila looked around him, as he was carried by an Alani horseman, bleeding from his chest. The hide leather cuirass had saved him, but to endure what fate? At every spot the horse of the Alan had lagged from exhaustion, was another scene of carnage, hewn Hunnic soldiers butchered in their rout. The stench of dead horses was overwhelming, even to a Hun, enough to make even the hearty warlord mix vomit with his balaclava of dried blood. His eyes, delirious, lolling from one side to another, as he saw more of the men ordered to their deaths in his march on Rome.

If the rider could make rendezvous with the force to the south of Ravenna, near Ancona, he would have vengeance for the souls who perished, here. His men might kill him, he thought, eager for their own power. He couldn’t ride in this condition, yet he had brought them victory in the past, and by the wills of Tengri he would bring them a bloody pyre at Ravenna. He would raze it to the ground, and slaughter the inhabitants for their foolish resistance that had kept up this long. The rain would not help these fools, now it had abated, and the sun scorched the Kan’s skin and he delighted in it. Ravenna would burn like a candle, just as the former capital of the Romans at Mediolanum, tossed to the Bastarnians like a bone to a slavering hound. Arxa, Archon of the Abasgians had been granted vengeance, and the western extents of this Gesalec’s hubris were crumbling.

Before the battle, he had heard that Narbonensis was burning and defenseless, the Armenian governor of Narbo beginning to make concessions, as Hermengild vainly pressed on Gallecia, and Roman countrymen rose up to sue for peace with his men, and the Abasgians with ransoms of the treasures of antiquity.

Just another inch and the vesicles near his heart would have been severed. He felt drained already, and his beard was masked in black, dried blood. His skin, the color of parchment, the same as the how his tongue felt as it wormed around in a feverish seizure, scraping on his dry mouth, like the tongue of a cat. He begged for a flask of water from the Alani, who shook his head and told him there would be no life if there was no rider to bring him to the camp near Ancona. The sword was planted the rider told him, and if the heavens willed it, it would be returned to Attila, it’s master.

The Alan had untangled him from the saddle that had collapsed along with the warlord, and carried him by a nest of ropes, previously lassos that were working against the Roman formations. He saw fires in the distance. Hunnic camps. He began laughing, wheezing blood. ‘Let your war-chief down from this horse. I will walk to my loyal men. I am in your debt. Tonight you dine with the harlots of those Greuthungian dogs, and will skewer Roman noblewomen.’ He rasped. He saw onagers, crisply lining the horizon. Good, he would start with retribution by bringing the house of this Trapstila to it’s knees at Ancona.

After the defeat of Attila at Monte Terminillo, Sigeric unshaven and haggard, ordered his men to search the all the hills in the Salarian way for Attila’s body, which had not been found. He did not look much the fairy, and was grim in counting the dead of the hard won battle, and pushing onwards, despite the Hunnic hordes bristling beyond the breach in Liguria. There would be no revenge at Milano, he conceded, the Bastarnian slaves of the Huns would brood there while forts were set up behind his army by Gesalec. Gesalec had informed him that he would be adopted into the house of Amalicus for his deeds, along with his noble wife, and that his reward would have no end for his service to Rome and the church, and God above. ‘Another such victory, and we are undone. Attila’s remains must serve as proof that the serpent has lost it’s head.’ Gesalec had warned him.

Other than the outstanding price Gesalec had placed on the capture or killing, proof of Attila’s death, Sigeric ordered Achilius to put his sizable spy network to task in determining what had become of the Kan. His horse, had been determined to have fallen in a clash against Captain Eucherius of the 22nd Heraclia, Roman Palatina. His body was missing, perhaps disfigured or cast aside by the Huns to conceal proof that their leader was dead. All that was left was to bury him.

After a rough and passionate night with his new wife in Rome, who was too old to bear any more children, Sigeric then ordered the remnants of his army to march north, a reprieve the beleaguered forces of the Count and Magister Miletum, Trapstilicus at Ravenna. Gothic falxmen, wild-eyed, searching for revenge and the bounty Gesalec had placed on Attila’s head, joined the cause.

As night crept over the encampment near Ancona, Attila was borne to a cot where a surgeon would stitch up his wounds, and give him mead to ease the pain. He howled at his aching broken hand, as it clutched the wound, and the scissors that sieved into his flesh. Those at the camp were loyal, and he was pleased to learn that Bleda, his nephew had appointed Ellac in command of the southern point against the forces of Italy, encircling both Ravenna and Ancona. Ellac insisted that the King of the Huns address his men that night, as one the wounds were stitched and bandaged. Attila rewarded him by demoting him and appointing the Alan who had brought him to camp as the captain of this collection of yurts and siege artillery, that would be brought to bear no later than tomorrow. Attila used his right arm to hold a walking stick, as his left hand had gone stiff and useless, even once the arrow had been removed. The tendons, he was told, had been severed, and the hand would not gain it’s full functionality. The great yurt was festooned with bones and trophies, cattle, yak, oxen and angus skulls, and the skulls of men who had deserved such as position of reverence for their notable offenses against the Great Kan.

‘On a penny!’ He rasped, staggering into the drinking hall in the greatest of the yurts. He was drunk. The leather stitched walls of the great tent were alive with shadows and the orange glow of flames. Their chaos by the hundreds of attending Hunnic chiefs suddenly bowing before the Kan was rivaled only by the wandering, flitting madness in Attila’s eyes.

‘The Emperor of the Romans and Goths has spoken these words, so do not despair for us being driven from the field, ‘ Another victory and we are undone!.’ So shall it be! We have numbers beyond count to grant the Romans defeat, not once more, but a thousand. The Romans in the south of Italy that have risen up will give suit of supplication to us, as I have intended, as the Alemanni son Chlodovech has already bowed to the might of the Kan.’

‘You will ask, but what of an ending to war, now that our allies, the Heruli, Bastarnians, Burgundians, and Abasgians have room to settle in the carcass of Italy: do not despair, for I have seeded in the ripe heart of Rome when I came close to taming her, and I have sown a puppet who will place us, straddling the world.’ He entered into a coughing fit. ‘A beast, to rules over the mongels.’ He could not continue, a dribble of blood issued from the corner of his mouth as he hacked.

The Alan took a cowl over his warchief- making him warm, and ushered him to his gilded throne. ‘So speaks, Attila, great Kan of the Huns, Burgundians, Bastarnians, Alans, Abasgians, and now, Caesar of Rum!’ The Alan shouted. The laughing of Attila was heard, as revelry broke out within the tent. Archery was on display as always, but none dared turn their bows towards the injured King of Huns, even for a moment. They drank from honeyed wine, and rolled on the floors with hounds and whores.

‘Attila lives. Surely you jest. I saw the hide of his horse. Unmistakable.’ Achilius said to Lebed, the Hunnic diplomat in his pocket. He was in Ancona, which was enjoying a peaceful night, despite the siege to the north. The stars, and all of the Zodiac were clear to see, there would be no rain the next day, perfect for Sigeric to march on the camp of Ellac. It was a dangerous proposition for Sigeric, but worth it, if they were harboring Attila. Only his deposing would dismay the Huns from their southern course.

Lebed was unfamiliar with the language. ‘There is more, I went to each of the captains, save the Alan who recovered the bloated eagle, and told them of Marcus Bestia Vorenius’ plot in Firenze. I encouraged dissent as you asked, master of shadow. The Beast plans on joining with the Septimanian governor of Narbo, who has recently allowed the wandering Jutes to steal jewels from Narbo.’ Marcus the Beast, Vorenius was a foederati from the Gaetulians in Africa, known for his savagery in deposing rivals in the less than savory facets of Roman life, and in Fiorentia. That he was planning a power seizure came as no surprise. Many Romans saw the Hunnic menace as too imminent and were interested in making a deal, now that the Huns had lost something of value, and the onus was on them, and the rebels to the south of Tarentum, who had the strongest claim.

Marcus the Beast



Promotus, The Governor of Narbo

‘Yes, I am familiar with Faustus the Armenian. His loyalty is not in question. Yours however, is. The Jutes are subject to neither the Alemanni nor our hegemony. If he cannot secure the walls of Narbo, then he will be disciplined.’

‘You do not trust me?’ Asked the Asiatic, with scars ritualistically splayed across his face.

‘ You can forgive a cat not trusting a keen rat while he sleeps, who would sell his services for the mint of Gesalec and Eutharicus.’ Achilius answered. ‘ My eyes are my tools, and you are hungry indeed.’ Achilius answered, raising Lebeds skin with a feather, venomous he knew, on his arm. The itching, the ways his pores rose, the torture.
‘I gave the writings of Guitifrida to the camp of Attila.’ Answered Lebed. ‘The gospels of Christ.’ Whispered Lebed, in fear of Achilius, and the quill that might puncture his wrist should he be caught in a lie, or suspected of doing so. Now that Achilius had the information, there was every inclination that he might dispose of his tool.

‘Good, we wouldn’t want him to go to hell, and be put on a spit by the reinforcing army of Sigeric. Now you, will you return to the camp?’ Achilius asked, eyes cold.
Lebed knew that this was his chance to save his own life. ‘Nay, they nearly had my hide for mentioning the Christ god. I will enjoy the churches of Rome, where your humble servant belongs for the sin of deceit.’

‘Good. I may call on you again. Have no fear of the Scourge of God. If what you say is true, he is a dead man riding already.’

THE SKIRMISH NEAR ANCONA

The advance of the Romano-Gothic army

Acting on the intelligence of the Hunnic spy who had pledged his loyalty to Achilius and his spy network, Sigeric moved north, which conveniently was his marching orders, only instead of circumventing the camps to the south of Ravenna, and relieving the Count with all haste, he would see if the southern camps near Ancona began to march on the city, as he was told they would. It was mid-day by the time they began to move, the onagers being loaded, and the men taking to their horses, taking into no account the patrols of scout equites that rode along a high hill. It was a bright day, the perfect Italian day for marching and taking in the clean air, not common for the razing Huns and the smoke that followed them, and they would be at the walls of Ancona within hours.
The Romano-Gothic army was in terrible condition to commit to such an obscure struggle, not with the walls of Ravenna crumbling to the north. By the time they returned south, Ancona would be in ashes, and they would see what the price of the battle in the Salarian way truly was. They would be trapped between the two forces, and the one freshly destroying Ancona would hold them in place while they were overwhelmed by the Hunnic hordes from the north, and the Burgundians who were raiding Liguria and Venetia at will.

So when the camp, packaged into pack animals and on the move, saw the Roman formations, cohors and palatine marching in their direction, it was to Attila’s surprise, up on his new horse. He sighted the banners of Sigeric, the man of whom neither the two of them were certain who had defeated whom. They were nearing a hill, and had the high ground. He instructed his onagers to unload on the formations to push them away and remind them who was in control. He ordered explosive rounds to set fire to the wooded land, where deer and boards milled. ‘They’ll move away. They’re trying to delay us from our destination.’ Said the Kan.

Then, Sigeric ordered his horse bands forward, to engage the Huns. Attila panicked immediately. A Hun would sacrifice that many horses, but no Roman or Goth would. Then he saw, which Goth, the banners of Gesalec, waiting proudly, carrying their standard, waiting behind the trees. Sigeric, or who could only be intended to be him, was leading the infantry in a steady march through the flaming hail of Attila’s artillery. The Alan, Methos, took up a war-axe in one mighty arm, and a lasso in the other and told Attila that he should abandon the field. ‘They expect me dead. They won’t engage.’ Cursed Attila. ‘But I will call their bluff and end this now. For their wounds, they are nothing.’ He seethed. ‘They’ll not near us, before they are pinioned to shreds.’ He grunted.

The Roman numbers did not hesitate, nor did they flinch to the rain that set the forest alight, sending the animals shrilly squealing away in the daylight. Lacking in cavalry, the palatine guards and scholae of Gesalec were instructed to move straight to the offending onagers. Without them, the city to the eastern coast would last longer, no matter the result.

Attila nodded to Methos and he gave the order for the horse archers to begin a Parthian circle and fire upon the approaching infantry.

It was too late, when the Kan saw that the army of Sigeric has been concealing their pikes at a low profile. They truly meant to move on this hill. By this time his front lines were already contested and he, for all his injuries, was in the fray of battle. The onagers punished the approaching troops severely, but the Roman horses kept Attila’s lines, away from the beck of their master. He must have thought to flee, but to where, his army was committed here, and to the north, Bleda did not know whether he was alive or dead and was relying upon the victory in the south, the victory Attila had just won!

This did not keep his guardian Methos from fleeing the battlefield, to a closer vantage as the artillery, but before long, according to most accounts, Attila’s horse took an arrow to it’s muscled foaming chest. The horses gait slowed, soon sagging, and he found himself quickly surrounded by palatine guards of Sigeric, who was taking the field. Attila was unable to flee, and on foot he would be doomed.

Methos the Roxolani

One by one, the few chieftains bodyguards who had remained with him were cut down from their horses, or arrows, or even the barrage of an onager, brought to the field, cunningly concealed behind the smoke of the burning forest, by Sigeric.

Calamity ensued as Attila watched his forces melt around him. The pikes were fast approaching and soon began to spear those nearest to him. It was a pike that impaled Attila, Scourge of God, running him completely through at his seamy belly. Eucherius wielded it, the luckiest man in the Empire. His eyes lit up in glory, and blinked through the sprinkle of gore, as he lost grip on his pike, which had anchored in the gut of Attila. His body exited just as his entrails did, and his horse fell, dragging him down, crushing the back of his skull on the fallen shield of a Roman noble. His eyes went wide and glassy.

This time, there was no escape for the enemy that had brought such terror to the world, cries of victory rose up as soon as Attila was felled, and axes, spears and swords rose to the air in cheers, at the center of it, Sigeric, who had taken the field. He ordered the celebrations to diminish and the onagers to be dismantled, Attila’s corpse to be collected and sent by carriage to Rome, where Gesalec would no doubt have plans for it.

Sigeric’s gamble has paid off

After the fighting continued, Methos was defeated from his last stand at the onagers. Sigeric watched the exultation around him and remembered, somewhere in his daft mind, Theoderic’s the Giant’s words about the bloated eagle being brought down by it’s weight. Truly this Attila was too big for his britches.

[Antiokhos Euergetes]

A very welcomed new chapter, it has taken me a good few hours this morning to catch up...writing articles too! But glad I spent the time, I wonder now will history repeat.Will their be a civil war between Hun tribes and subject people's. (in a sense of course, history has not stayed the course so far) Will the Hunnic groups reform under the brother leadership, gather fresh influx of steppe tribes.
Either way enjoyed reading, thank you.

PS: Sadly it seems I am unable to offer your just reward of REP! I have to spread it around, well if there were that many deserving souls, I would of done so

[Lugotorix]

A very welcomed new chapter, it has taken me a good few hours this morning to catch up...writing articles too! But glad I spent the time, I wonder now will history repeat.Will their be a civil war between Hun tribes and subject people's. (in a sense of course, history has not stayed the course so far) Will the Hunnic groups reform under the brother leadership, gather fresh influx of steppe tribes.
Either way enjoyed reading, thank you.

PS: Sadly it seems I am unable to offer your just reward of REP! I have to spread it around, well if there were that many deserving souls, I would of done so

Thank you, my friend. I'll keep this going for a long time to come. There's somewhat of a plot twist upcoming.

[Antiokhos Euergetes]

Glad to hear it

[Alwyn]

Epic story-telling and fantastic screenshots, as ever - I look forward to that plot twist.

[Lugotorix]

GOISWINTHA, QUEEN OF GOTHS

Widimir is not among her greatest accomplishments

My Dear Count Trapstilicus,

I wish your beloved wife, Gaatha, and her boys Vandalarius and Liuva the best, as they are my children, as queen mother. As a Goth, Filimer is my grandchild as well, and as a Gepid, you should reign in your own children among the Bastarnians from their wayward ways.

It is times, such as these that you need the darling girl, and she needs your fortitude against the enemy that has robbed me of my husband, father of our Empire and nation. In the tradition of the old gods, new families are made, and I hope you and yours remain just that, yours, to be tended accordingly. You are an Amalius by a vacant Emperor, of which my birds tell me you had some part in spurring, him my dear grandchild, Gregory. Do not become to comfortable in the boots of the faithful servant of Vithericus, Theoderic. My children are ever loyal to the house of Amalius, and take exception to offers of patronage from outsiders, of this sept of yours, Vandalarius, and it’s motherless daughter Valdamerca. I offer that you heed the advice of the Goth child Filimer. The time to break tents has come once more. Let the Romans tend for Rome, in this, the darkest hour. Gaatha will tell you more of what Captain Mundus and poor Fredebal have prepared for us across the sea in Iberia.


The first thing I did, after receiving this letter, was stop attending any mess and grit lines, hire the best food taster in Ravenna, and order all letters to be ceased from Goiswintha, for my own mental wellbeing in the cold time of the siege. The old lady was as cunning as ever, and would find some way to impose her will on our future, though I suspected she would take pity on Gaatha for being widowed so many times already, though truth be told, Gaatha minded little of her husband’s fates, save Theoderic.

Emerging from the chaos of the south, were messengers bringing word that Attila would not be besieging Ancona, my hearth and home, in fact, that he had been slain, and that his body was en route for celebrated burial in Roma. We rejoiced, behind our bolted doors of the cold keep, but kept wary of Bleda the second, who had encircled the city. During the time of the siege at Ravenna, I had given order to the governor of Ravenna to take to the inland hills and muster as many Italians to our cause as the dire danger warranted. This man was one of my subjects, Prefect Crispinius Sextius. Tranquilus had docked at Aquiae, only to find it besieged, and seeing that we were not masters of our own territory, he rallied Romans from neighboring villages and was given safe passage to Italy by the Governor of Narbonensis, the first trespass that made good on the spies word.

His contact to me, was Filimer the Goth, my young friend who had spent two winters with the Huns baying at our gates at Ravenna. In such lean times, men develop bonds, and as patron of the house of Theoderic, I soon began investigating what it would take to bring Filimer through adoption into my house. He had love of wealth, of which we were in no short supply, but also was a proud Goth, and he had long told me that the Gepids such as I were not truly of the house of Amalius, regardless of the late Eutharic’s naturalization. He had also lost some faith in me for allowing Venetia to be overrun and was beginning to see our position in Italy as a lost cause. He would lecture me some nights, that a sojourn across the sea to Tarragon and Mundus’ position there would relieve the pressures of the Burgundians and other barbarians who had sold their souls to the war effort against us and would not be dissuaded by Attila’s death so long as the Hunnic numbers remained. They had their own Kings, and would make opportunity on our weakness. Filimer was convinced that the local Roman authority should be left in power in Italy, and make what peace with the surviving hordes they could, while we could live in exile until order could be restored. He also reminded me that I owed him consideration of this plan at the least, as he had preserved my life and titles. It was true, that I was more indebted to him, than him to me, him having recovered me in my injuries from the field so few years past.

Filimer had much to offer, the strongest virtue being the support of the younger generation of Goths who had become disillusioned after their support of Savva and Eutharicus Gregory.
He was enamored with a Kriemhild, a noblewoman of Gothic ancestry, and I implored him for a more suitable choice from among the Roman women, particularly my Roman ally’s sister, so that my house would have stronger ties to the country, but he refused. The Roman wife I had intended for him, was the sister of Crispinius, so he was reproached when Filimer refused this generous offer. The Roman force of militias and cornuti seniores was growing quite strong in the hills, and Crispinius became more lukewarm to my envoy Filimer by the passing day.

The Coming of Age of Fredebal

Gesalec had no surviving heirs, with most of his children dying from Vithericus’ plague that had followed Saturninus’ troops from Corsica, but one of his sons out of wedlock, with the likeness of Eutharic and the long red hair of Ammius, Fredebal was developing a reputation as a fearless warrior that demonstrated that Gesalec had much to offer on the battlefield, albeit through proxy. The young man, senior to Hermanafrid, the legitimate son of Gesalec, was rewarded with a wife, Geisirith, for his valor, always seeking the approval of his Emperor and father as a war captain. He was put under the command of Mundus, and with Hermaneric missing in Gallaecia, this would be the west’s response to the disaster that had befallen Provence. The matriarch of the Amalius still held a great deal of power, and she was motivated by guilt over what she had done to Egica in keeping Fredebal vulnerable on the front. She wanted no possibility of the vendetta arising again after Gesalec had reigned, and she knew what I knew of her maneuvering in her younger years.

Reaction to Attila’s Death

Bleda II, son of Bleda the Hun learned of his uncle and King’s death in time to be confronted by Sigeric, alongside my sallying force. We were aided by the combined Roman army of Crispinius and those who had promoted Eucherius for his valor in slaying Attila.

The Huns had not perished with their lord, and now continued the struggle under a confederation of warlords centralized around Archon Arxa and his intentions on Narbonensis and Provence. Soon Aquiae Sextis fell to these combined forces, and the city was sacked and it’s inhabitants within the walls slaughtered, as revenge for the death of the Great Kan. Their response to his death was that of lamentation through self-mutilation. They carved sigils into the flesh of their faces, and tore their scalps and wild faces in despair, but were united, after the bow had been broken, in a push across the north. The designs on Rome, had all but perished with Attila, although the Bastarnians in the coming months moved south to Firenze and Marcus the Beast gave them a good and friendly welcome.

Achilius’ spy in the Hunnic ranks who now made himself scarce in Gothic churches to avoid being disposed of, had not been lying about the criminal’s ambitions. As we were dealing with criminals, knowing full well that a stipend must be provided to Filimer for his loyalty, I used Achilius connections with the underworld to embezzle funds from the conflict in Firenze, having local brigands steal from the power vacuum left along the roads by Marcus the Beast abandoning his criminal ambitions and taking up those of governance.

It wasn’t long after the funds were in the war chest of Ravenna, that Marcus the Beast’s insurrection prosecuted these highwaymen, and after torturing them in his true fashion, they led a trail back to me, which caused quite a stir in Etruria and portrayed me as a robber baron, which played to Marcus’ power in the region. Crispinius wrote of his discontent with working with a man who would raid the roads of his own duchy, but his concerns were allayed when Gesalec, ever the practical economist, reminded him that we were at war, and all that was appropriated would be used to liberate those very lands. He claimed responsibility for my actions, putting together a list of the transgressions of the owners of the caravans that had been raided, and exposing their known ties to Marcus the Beast on the ledgers. Goiswintha made it clear to my wife that her husband was a crook, that needed to be disciplined through abstinence. Bless the dear lady, I said aloud, while I cursed her in prayers. Vandalarius younger twin brother, Liuva was making headway in the ability to lead men into battle, and was learning how to fight. I had intended a different life for him, but it seemed the Taifali general's blood was strong in command, and Vandalarius was put under the tutelage of Filimer as a captain. My daughter Valdamerca, was quite cruel to Vandalarius, in playing their adolescent games, and she tortured him with the fact that they were not truly kin, and that she was desirable to him, but he could not have the older girl as both Gaatha and I would view it as incest. She was also cruel to Liuva, but that was more bullying, although she would make amends by giving him gifts to inspire the rivalry between the two sons of Theoderic. She would sugar Liuva just enough for him to take sides in disputes. A clever girl, she had inherited the wits of her father and the ploys of Vithericus, he shuddered to think what a Countess she would become once she wielded real power.

Filimer did not approve of these methods, which caused him to break with me further. He became very devoted to solace in Vithericus’ wife acting as a guiding matriarch in these times, when the open plains had been the only path for the Goths, and now he was hell-bent on the open seas. In the battle that broke the siege at Ravenna, I met with Sigeric, who along with me were the dual military powers in Italy as Magister Miletum under the figurehead, Gesalec. Although an accomplished accountant, rumors of the day said that the widow of Vithericus, in her frail old age of more than eighty, was the true power at the executive powers of the Amalius, as she had kept the longest correspondences and had influence over my wife Gaatha, which brought her word to me. And her word said that the plans of Filimer might be one of our only remaining options. It was only a matter of time before the hordes, now in disarray, turned their sights back on Rome Distance was required to break them down, she would gossip with Gaatha. I countered arguments for abandon with the insistence that the Venedians and Dacian crown of Romans were returning to our aid. It was true that the Venedian Slava, bereft of their homeland in Hyperborea were coming to combat the hordes massing in the north, but without our combined might, they would have little effect.

A suitable heir to Attila’s legacy was hard to find, so Sigeric and I planned extensively to capture or kill Bleda during the battle, even as we still had the migrating northern Germanics and Bastarnians to deal with. Gaatha was nearing late life, and could provide me no heirs other than my step-son Vandalarius, whom I was very proud of, so I decided, after Filimer had shown his abilities in the battle to come, that he would be adopted as my son. I notified him of this honor before we sallied out of Ravenna to meet with the Huns south of the Po River, and he was obstinate, preferring to say little, and speak of his reverence to the Queen, and Gesalec. We were going to victory of that he was certain, but the ends of that, he was disillusioned with, of where we were going next.

[Alwyn]

If Filimer is correct in his assessment of the situation, and if other cities are in danger of the fate of Aquiae Sextis, then the situation looks threatening indeed. (If I remember correctly from chapter 5, Aquiae Sextis supplied horses for the Romano-Gothic Empire). I'll be interested to see how Valdalarius and Valdamerca develop as they grow up - if they get a chance to do that!

[Lugotorix]

If Filimer is correct in his assessment of the situation, and if other cities are in danger of the fate of Aquiae Sextis, then the situation looks threatening indeed. (If I remember correctly from chapter 5, Aquiae Sextis supplied horses for the Romano-Gothic Empire). I'll be interested to see how Valdalarius and Valdamerca develop as they grow up - if they get a chance to do that!

Thanks for the input! You're very diligent when it comes to reading updates. I added a screen of Aquiae for reference of a small part of just what I'm up against.

About Vandalarius and Valdamerca

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Vandalarius and Valdamerca are major characters, and both become monarchs. The next generation, so to speak. It's going to be very fun writing their relationship.

[Roman Heritage]

Ok, just had time to read some of what you've wrote since I last commented - and I'm not even halfway into it

I truly loved the political situation and intrigues under Eutharic's reign. And damn, I was stunned by the brutal way in which you introduced Savva's death. It was incredible, I didn't see that coming!

I'll eventually read my way into it

[Ciruelo]

So cool man, you should write a book

[Lugotorix]

The Fall of Sigeric

The Pyrrhic Salvation of Ravenna



SIGERIC, the MAN OF THE HOUR

Filimer begged Sigeric to conserve his forces for what he called ‘An Exodus.’ To leave Rome to the Romans should our last defense fail, but Sigeric, stubborn as a mule, committed everything to breaking the line of Attila with Bleda’s death.

It was a summer day in 437 A.D. when we confronted Bleda II on the field outside of Ravenna in Italy. 60,000, 50,000 in the days of Honorius, Romagnan Romans, Goths, and other refugees were depending on our success there. From our successes in the southern pass, we had gained much support under Filimer’s banner from the legio comitenses and their Roman captains who were willing to fight. Crispianus the Romagnan joined us with his Roman troops on the bright day, having gained so much support from Naples, which was under threat from the raiding fleets of Axum and the armies of Arxa who had managed to sack the city by sea, and his palatine guard joined him. The Huns under Bleda were wary, breaking their bombardment of the city and reclining from the ravaged villages of Romagna in the surrounding hills to a hill far from the devastation they had brought, once they learned of Sigeric’s reinforcing army marching from the south.

The legions of Rome fight for their country and countrymen, in us.

There, in nature, it was hard to see that war had ever come to this country, and the briar and weeds and vines were already turning yellow from the summer heat as we neared fall. They scraped upon our leathered leggings, and the itch of the dust of the field hung in a haze over the field.
I delegated command of my sallying force to a black-bearded noble with steely blue eyes named Gundemar, and then traveled from the port in Ravenna via the Candaria Canal, which had not been assailed by Hunnic ships to Sirmium, where I mustered any mercenaries of the steppe folk such as the Alans and Slavs who had followed in the Huns bloody wake. I was very grateful to Emperor Emeritus Gesalec for his strong hand in claiming responsibility for the funds I had allocated to the war effort from The Beast’s fiasco, and made a promise by candlelit letter to bring as many troops as possible back across the Adriatic before the east was abandoned altogether. Through Pannonia, Thracians joined our cause, and their Rhomphaia made a proud display at the battle near Ravenna.

Captain Gundemar emerges from the brush. He has been given my mandate to lift the siege, by I.




We cannot endure another enemy trespassing through Italy!



Count Trapstilicus is becoming indebted to the Emperor

Tragedy reached Sigeric’s ears as he made the march north. The King of the Venedian Slavs had been killed and their people brutally subjugated as revenge for them joining us in the defense of Italy. Soon-after, the Burgundians sacked Florence, Fiorenze, while there were troubling reports that the Huns had beaten through the perimeter of Narbo and moved to surround Burdigala, where the Alamanni were in little strength of numbers to confront them. I knew better, of course, some pact of non-aggression had been arranged. I suspected the eldest son of the King, but could do nothing as hammered down to our positions as we were. Also, the Varinians, a people from our ancient home in Gothiscandzra, had joined their Nordic neighbors, the Jutes, in the war against us. The north was burning, and many villages come to be extorted by the Huns riding west were already burning and looted when they arrived.

Gundemar and Sigeric’s mission was to bury Attila’s legacy and break the siege around Ravenna for good. I had then planned to march north to retake Milano, despite the urging of my subordinate and friend Filimer not to play into the grasp of the Huns, who had numerical superiority, but were riding with their vassals and Arxa for Narbo, now that Aquae had been sacked.

We had eight onagers with us, more than the four the defending hill had managed to bring from Ravenna in time, before the Romans surging out of the city on horseback- Dalmatian Equites from Salona, had rushed their position and dismantled and captured what they could, setting fire to the other trenches Bleda had set forth in pits and forts leading up to the temporary capital, now that Milano was in the clutches of the Bastarnians.

Bleda II, Nephew of Attila

Sigeric, still wearing his bloodied coat of mail from the earlier battle, waited for the second group of onagers under Gundemar’s command to emerge and come into range from the east. The blasts of our artillery rained for several hours, booming through the hills, following by hours of screaming of the writhing, burnt Huns who had fell under them, and the screeching of horses maimed by the explosions.

We had many pikes with us, and perhaps at first underestimating how many remained in my and Gundemar’s garrison, Bleda must have been prideful or sacrificing himself, by not retreating, once he saw the second army advance. Although, it was equally as likely that he had believed that Sigeric’s army would by scythed in numbers by his valiant uncle’s fall, not the decisive affair it had been in the pass.

After our ammunition in artillery had been exhausted, Sigeric ordered a march to take the hill, and we were met in the burning grass before it by the horses and Uar footsoldiers of the Hunnic besieging force.

The combined armies move in to pounce on the enemy, weakened by the barrages

Gundemar was among the first to die, killed in clashes with cavalry, by some accounts, strangled by a lasso, while Sigeric took command of the eastern fringe of the battle, leading the Thracians who I had brought from the east to the fray, and they were equally as capable in cleaving the Heruli as they were the horses. By the time he had ordered the victorious pikemen in the east to join the more pressured center of the battle, it had become a bloodbath following Gundemar’s death, and many Gothic men I knew personally from Ancona, as well as Romans under Crispianus died. Too many by Crispianus’ reckoning. He was ready to withdraw his forces from the field when they came under a fierce assault by Heruli, Scirii, and Uar, as well as Bosphoran infantry, but decided to stay when the charge of Bleda’s guard made their way into his grasp.

Further to the east, in the forests, our cavalry fought against the Hunnic lancers, and it took more than reinforcing pikes to bring them to a route, by killing their captains, and make their way for the center. Sigeric, injured already from bombardment at the hill, moved his nobles to join the center and push for victory.

Sigeric is exhausted and hurt badly

The fighting in the forest to the west between the lancers and the mounted warbands of the Goths proved some of the fiercest, with the Hunnic captains being killed before the arrival of the Devil cavalry to sweep the woods. It was too late however, and the battle shifted to the foot of the hills to the east. The pikemen took the field between the forest and the open ground and prevented the cavalry from bringing their snares and lances to bear on the Roman infantry who defeated the foot-soldiers of the Huns. They were unable to spot the advance of yet more cavalry from the reserves and paid dearly.

Sigeric no doubt fought valiantly in his push to the west and Ravenna itself, but on foot, without a higher vantage of the fight, with his palatine guards and noble Goths, he was recumbent in realizing that the Huns still had lancers and devil cavalry in their reserves, and they made a charge for the Gothic nobles, hoping to kill two commander’s in one day. Not known for being a bright soul, it was perhaps this lapse in awareness that had led to his end.

The last stand of Bleda II

Surprised, Sigeric survived the melee long enough to know that Bleda II had been killed by the legio of Crispianus, although the Roman commander was furious that so many of his men had died in what should have been such a simple affair, before Sigeric and his regiment were flattened by the massive charge of the Hunnic lancers. Already exhausted, dragging his head and his sword, he met his end with bravery, a lance catching his shoulder and sending him spinning, broken, face down to the acrid, burning earth, so soon before set alight by our artillery. His bones were broken, perhaps a leg, and his shoulder, but he spat out his broken teeth and found footing, to fight the charge that had crashed through his men. Arrows caught him as he rose, then the trampling of the steeds and the hero of Monte Terminillo was slain.

Daft Sigeric, flanked on the field, without a horse to preserve him

It was a question of numbers now, with no clear leader to either army. Sunirend, one of the sons of Gundulf, assumed command and ordered the pikes to form a long line, to prevent any further charges by the Huns who remained on the field. They knew they had been defeated, but were proud in killing my delegate, as well as Sigeric, they must have known from the lamentations of his men, and the tattered remnants of the fat eagle banner fled north, to join with what Huns remained in central Europe, with the rest moving to burn resistant Bordeaux to the ground, and kill it’s governor.

Armenius Promotus was not as stubborn as the governor of Bordeaux and the Aquitaine: He rose in rebellion against the empire, forming the Septimanian Domain of Narbo, in exchange for promises of relenting aggression from the Huns moving through Narbonensis and Provence. I reasoned that he was only doing what was best to preserve his people’s lives, although Gesalec would have had him fight to the death out of honor to a different cause. With the high casualties near Ravenna, I would have to re-appraise the advice of Filimer and the queen Goiswintha, as well as that of my wife Gaatha.

Several days later when I travelled to the camp of Crispianus to congratulate him on his victory over Bleda, I found it abandoned. He had ceased communications with my envoy Filimer. I learned that he was in the company of Armenius Promotus, and that he had ordered the Romans to occupy Ancona away from less capable defenders, and rulers. Civil war, from Naples to Narbo, was upon Italy once more. For the first time, I had lost my seat of power, as well as the seat of power of the house of Theoderic.

And this time, I resolved to bring advice to the Emperor Emeritus Gesalec that perhaps, though there would be no other occasion, we should let the Romans have their country. We had brought a pox upon Italy, with our grudge with the Huns, and I knew that seeing the dying on the field outside of Ravenna, and we may have done well to excuse ourselves from command and find protection elsewhere, as Filimer cautioned. Leaving two legions as guardians of Ravenna, I ordered Filimer to retake Firenze from the Burgundians and those loyal to Marcus the Beast. Before doing so, I told him that he was right, a lesson we had learned breaking the siege of Ravenna. I would be travelling to Rome to bring his own words before the Emperor.

Bordeaux suffers for their lack of compliance with the Huns, who are in a power struggle, Narbonensis and Septimania have taken the course of least resistance.

[Antiokhos Euergetes]

Bravo maestro a much needed chapter of historical escapism, I needed that, just for a few minutes I can escape RL.

(Formerly Gaius )

[Alwyn]

Wow! These are phenomenal images of battle, with suitably epic moments for Gundemar and Sigeric.This was a costly battle indeed - can the Romano-Gothic Empire survive against the alliance which has been forced against it? I can't wait to find out!

[Lugotorix]

-CHAPTER VII-



THE GOTHIC NAVAL EXODUS

440- 444 A.D.

Part I- The Destruction of the Empire

The year was the 441st of our lord, in Ancona in Italy. Scholae Palatinae strode at either side of me through the streets of Ancona, whose walls had been brought to ruin from the onagers I, and my legion, formerly that of Vithericus, the Seekers of Glory, had confiscated from Sigeric failed bid north. There were Huns, under the banner of the various Hunnic kans such as Hunor and Elphrat who had taken up the Hunnic banner in Attila’s victory, which had been catastrophic for the both of us.

Their presence, running down peasant towns and caravans to the north, and who would soon turn their sights on Crispianus’ palace here, made our mission all the more urgent. If we could reclaim the city with enough haste, we could muster a defense of those Romans within who were still loyal to us, and hold the Huns at bay for months, even years, if the walls were repaired. We had previously had success against an army of Bastarnians to the north of Ravenna, but the retreat was quickly called to take back what was mine.

Shouts emerged from the rooftops out in the streets that the Cohort of Magister Miletum Trapstilicus was approaching. Plates and glasses shattered on the street ahead of us, and we formed a testudo with our shields. These were those near the palace who had been seduced with the offer of peace to the Huns by Crispianus, who, furious at his losses near Ravenna, had taken my property for his own.

Our horses had been tied nearby, as the ascent would need to be made on foot. I had assured Gesalec of our failure, he had ruled capably, but that empire was nonetheless brought to ruin. Burning banners of Ancius Duccius Lepidus choked soot in our faces as we progressed towards the palace grounds. My old palace, as familiar as home but now the crumbling hole Crispianus had hid in while the Huns mustered. I passed my favorite fig tree and cut down a flag of the Western Empire of Lepidus, a governor at odds with the Attian dynasty of Africa who had claimed Saturninus’ wreath at Caralis, which was now very much a Roman port once more, but would have no trade with our African allies. I picked a fig- and spoke lowly to Filimer, my son ‘ Neglected taste, Filimer. God has been cruel to us. The salt of Attila has touched my beloved orchard even in his defeat.’

Filimer nodded and unsheathed his mighty two handed sword from his strapping, sweaty back, and crouched in a approach to the palace steps. The giant Goth considered such neglect of the palace orchard as an affront to his lord, and a death sentence, having enjoyed the fruits himself many times with me in pleasanter days at this very courtyard.

Tarento would be flying Lepidus’ banners, eagles devouring the laurels, at high mast now. The empire was falling, and spirits were low in Rome. Roman spirits had never been higher, Filimer, my reluctant son had told me. The Huns were too many, and now, returning from their sacking in the west, Archon Arxa had joined them. The ports of Rome were filling with migrants. Gothic Italy had once been a center of immigration, and now the boats were filling with people of every background and walk of life, who wanted to sail for Tarragon, the last city in the west that had resisted the Hunnic subdued governor Armenius Promotus’ advances, and Armenius' lands were under attack again by the Burgundians.

Magister Miletum Trapstilicus Amalius of the Black Arrow

This is how I came to the namesake of 'black arrow'. When looking for a port, we had considered both the berth of Narbonensis and Corsica, being that Armenius Promotus was absent on campaign against Mundus as a base to weather the storm while Tarraconensis was secured as a harbor for the people who would leave to join us. I picked a simple beech raft with a black dyed sail, to avoid detection of any Huns or Romans that may be hunting for us, and let the waves and tides of the Tyrrehenian decide for us, and Sandilich, who had been made captive and made to till the omen by Achilius, upon threat of death. Not a single Goth or Roman would die for something so trivial in execution. It washed up near the prison of deceased Saturninus at Ajax, where Traquilius was seeking a haven, and we decided the augury was favored by Christ. Also, as the first man to die in the epic of The Iliad, it was seen as a sign of glory to come.

To guard these transports, fleeing Italy to the highest bidder, an unfortunate necessity to fill the coffers before we headed for the province of Corsica, were the fleets of the Quadrian pirate Radolf, who had taken to the seas after the loss of their territory, abandoning the Domatian territories that remained in the east, and remained friends to us. Radolf the sea admiral would apply some pressure to Lepidus to allow us to sail into the port at Ajax in Corsica. Lepidus was a friend of Eucherius and a former Romano-Gothic commander of the twelfth legion Adiutrix, who after witnessing the death in infirmity of Saturninus, had been so touched by the old emperor’s words of Roman resurgence that he had seized control of the island of Sardinia, and holding the best equipped roman army at the most powerful fortress in a position to remain unmolested by the Huns other than Tarento, which had it’s own problems with the Aksumites and Abgasians, the remaining rebellious Romans had trusted in his five stars of Gothic meddle, ironically most at sea, putting down fleets of Germanic raiders much like Radolf. Radolf’s armada was in two positions straddling the Tyrrhenian and had free reign in these late days.
Filimer was approached by a seneschal of Crispianus who protested, waving pike at him.

‘The lord wishes to resolve the matter of Trapstilicus’ estate peacefully!’ He protested. Filimer cut his pike in two with a low sweep and answered, as other guards approached. ‘Then he should have been a sensible bastard and evacuated.’ The door man backed off, but Filimer skipped up two steps of the palace entryway and came on the even footing before the two pillars that honored my Gepid ancestors. He clove the man in two with a swing of his broadsword, roaring. My men were upon the guards then, and after two of five had died, they dropped their weapons and surrendered. I bellowed for the reserves to enter and Ostrogothic pikeman marched from the city, which had stopped its rain of deterrents in shock at Filimer’s further violence and our show of force entering the palace. The pikes began marching into the palace, but I waved them to halt and guard the entrance, while I urged my own Scholae further into my palace.
Arrows whizzed by from the gallery above us, but struck no-one, and the pikemen entered with their shields held high. The arrows, by snipers on the second level of the palace stopped, and surrender was called. White table cloths fell amidst my troops like celebratory rice.

I called in anger, ‘ Stop, you birds. Bring forth the traitor, so that I may wipe my blade clean, and depart before then Huns are upon my own city.’
No-one answered, they were all in shock that it had come to this, so we quickly took to the staircase and rushed upwards into my former bedroom. Crispianus had fell on his sword and left a note that ‘Italy would sue for peace with the Huns, we will be here by nightfall and that Lepidus was now Emperor of the Romans, unless I had the gall to stay visit to what would follow.’

It wasn’t just the stench of Crispianus’ innards that bothered me, the blood and the sweat, and the rancid offal, it was the sting of knowing I would never be able to keep this place, so central to my identity. I looked out the window in reflection on the time I had spent in this blessed country. I was over fifty years, and my bones ached from the march into the palace, but my very soul felt beaten. A peace had fell over the city and the sun shone on my sparkling dewy orchard. Silkmoths had tented their nests amidst the untended branches, and the yard except for the shredded banners were filled with milling troops. The greenery, to be forever abandoned for the treacherous waves, our fortunes cast to the wind.
‘By nightfall? There’s no time for a defense to be made, we must leave. The cur must have bid them entry to the walls of Ravenna from the inland pass, knowing we’d retake this place.’ Filimer cursed and began hacking at the corpse of Crispianus in his typical Gothic anger.

‘Radolf will bear us safe to Ajax upon the sea.’ Sunirend said, entering the room, his blonde locks hanging in bangs.
‘Our cut our throats to the winds, and take Tarragon for himself and the Quadrians. Their ties to the Alemanni, the sole beneficiaries of this war are too strong.’ Filimer argued.

‘Filimer.’ I said quietly, stunned by my defeat. ‘The vaulted room beyond holds so many jewels from our conquest, that you would never have want of more. Not coin, but gleaming stone, the riches of Venetia from the conquest of Agrimund my old commander and Saphrax of Adrianople. I ask you to turn from butchering a cold body, and kneel to me, and you will inherit the lot of it with your sister and brother, Valdamerca, and Vandalarius. It is time to say good-bye to my home.’
Filimer knelt and I placed my short sword, no more than a spike, upon his shoulder. ‘Arise, Saiones of the House Amalius Vandalarius.’ I trembled, looking out the window at my estate, and ordered the entire city to be looted of anything of value, while the gems and gold would be kept for the two of us, to ensure his loyalty. He would wield the sword of Theoderic, as he was certainly strong enough for it. Few men were.

Our retreat was concentrated and bitter. Word reached us as we camped one night that Florence, Fiorentia had been burnt to the ground, encouraged into resistance from our march north, but then put down by Hunor’s raiders. More refugees passed us on the road. I would have to inform the Emperor that Ancona and Ravenna would be lost to us in time. I had left Sunirend, the son of Gundulf, in charge of Ravenna’s defense, ordered to kill any many as he could before fleeing himself if he could be saved. His men would take their own lives should they near starvation.

At the start of Autumn, we reached Rome, in ragged shape, and learned that the Abasgians had sacked Naples. Rome, where the empire had begun from republic, was now the sole bastion of it’s power, of Gothic power. The city fell under the dysentery we had been infected with in Ancona, tainted by refugees from half a world over and was crowded to the gills with people. Crime and the trafficking of people lurked in the nearest docks, and Gesalec began inspecting the ships himself. He welcomed Filimer into the house in Rome, and spoke to me in private.

‘What are the hopes for my empire?’ He said in the Imperial palace.

I bowed curtly and said, in atonement, ‘Sigeric and I have failed you, liege lord. It is over. We will flee, but I know not for how long. The Romans will hunt the Quadrian fleet, the Huns will take to the seas themselves and hunt us like pirates. We will fortify Ajax, but will run for as long as we live.’

He confided in me a secret he had been keeping to himself, beyond the riches of the city which he managed to keep the people from rioting and praying in peace for deliverance from the Huns, the food shortages, the Bastarnians, and the Abasgians.

‘But our story never ends. When the empire has fallen, and Lepidus rules over Italy, under the heel of Elphrat and the other Huns, the Goths will endure.’ He said humbly. ‘I will stay until Rome throws me off, but the Goths, the people of Egica, my father, will inherit Tarragon, which is kept warm for us going into this winter by Mundus. The Goths will need a king, and kings are not of the same line as emperors. Trapstilicus Amalius, Hermengild is too young to rule: You will be the King of Goths in our exodus, like Moses of the orient. I am naming you regent in the event of my death.’
I sneered. The man to preside over the vanquishing of the Goths, Vesi and Ostrogoth alike, would be a Gepid. I would be responsible for the deaths of another’s kingdom. The infamous fortune.
‘For how long would I serve as regent. I am older than you, Gesalec.’ I asked, bowing lower. I just as well would slit every Goth in Rome, including Gesalec’s throat and be done with it.

‘Until Chlotsuintha, Princess of the Empire’s son or daughter is old enough to rule, and there is something from the ashes to rule. You saved her life, now you and your great son Filimer will save her legacy. Ammius’ son Fredebal would fight to the death, I do not need that in a leader, as illegitimate as he is.’

I accepted this burden and went to the church with Filimer and Fredebal to pray. The city was becoming bloated with refugees, squalorous for bread, and disease ridden, and we didn’t know how long it would take what remained of our empire to fall. Fredebal swore he would do something to hold back the tide of Huns. We couldn’t fathom what he would attempt. We would pray to another end. Deliverance from what responsibility remained for the country. The city would be abandoned at one point, and we wished we were not killed by it’s denizens or the bounty hunters of Lepidus before then.