The Fields of Aquitania Updated Feb 12th

[waveman]

The Fields of Aquitania

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Prelude:
392 AD, Autumn, Spurius Crassus, Northern Aquitania, Legio VI VICTRIX et al

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

"Almighty and eternal God, those who take refuge in you will be glad and forever will shout for joy.


"Protect these soldiers as they discharge their duties. Protect them with the shield of your strength and keep them safe from all evil and harm. May the power of your love enable them to return home in safety, that with all who love them, they may ever praise you for your loving care. We ask this through Christ our Lord."


"Christe eleison" was the reply, chorused from twenty thousand throats.


The legionaries dispersed back to their tents and began the arduous task of breaking down the camp. The air was tense - there was a battle coming. Every drop of rain seemed to be heavily laden with the tension, only adding to the burdens of the milites.


Callistus and Liborius finished stowing their gear, then moved to their positions in the rapidly growing column of soldiers. Callistus, whose name meant beautiful, was ironically anything but that. A stocky man with a squashed nose and missing an ear, he had the look of a grizzled veteran despite being in only his second year of service. Liberius was much taller and compared to his companion looked to be far too thin to be a soldier, yet a soldier he was. For Roma, ancient glorious Roma, was faltering and needed any man who could fight to keep the Eternal City eternal.


The column began advancing, each unit chanting "Nobiscum Deus" thrice as it exited the camp.


The men marched on, leaning into the chill wind that sheared unmercifully through their tattered cloaks, heads bent, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
Most were silent, but there was some noise besides the clank of armor, the squish of boots sinking into mud. There were occasional oaths and muted conversations. To the right of Liberius in the column, another man called Donatus was muttering to himself: "Near forty-fecking-thousand godforsaken pagans, and there's but only what? A not even twenty of us? Daft. Mad and daft and foolhardy. How do they expect us to..."




Liborius lost track of his words as the man droned on, criticizing the foolhardy natures of the generals, the officers, Augustus and even God Himself. To his left Callistus was quietly praying.


"...teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight: my goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield..."
Silently Liborius followed along, for while he was not so adamant nor so loud of a believer as Callistus, he could use all the help that God in His grace could provide. They all could.


After an eternity that was over too quickly, the army began to deploy into their lines. Under Sextus Balvenius Perennis, the Dux Armoricani, and his second-in-command Spurius Crassus, they had quick-marched to the coast to intercept a vast Suebi horde and now were about to engage them. Down the gentle, almost imperceptible slope of the hill and beyond a small copse of trees the Suebi chieftains were also deploying their men, albeit in a less organized fashion.


Once set, the Romans grounded their shields and leaned on them, glad for any rest before the engagement began in earnest. Already small groups were skirmishing, cavalry, slingers and the like poking and prodding at each other, trying to sniff out any weakness in the enemy's formation. It did not last long.


The Suebi, no doubt emboldened by thoughts of the richness of Iberia, the beautiful women and plentiful fields, surged forward. Liborius paled, his grip white-knuckled on his lance while Callistus crossed himself.




"Ready!" came the preparatory order.


The ordinarius in charge of the 71 men in Callistus and Liborius' unit , down from the full strength of 80, shouted "Help us," as did every other ordinarius down the line.


"O God!" came the reply in unison, leaping from twenty thousand throats. The sound checked the Suebi, if only for a second, before they resumed their advance upon the Roman lines.


"Form!" roared the ordinarius. 71 shields were hefted, straps checked one last time. "Check your weapons," the ordinarius had said back in Lugdunensis, "and then check them again." Every man was remembering that now.


"Testudo!" With a collective noise between a grunt and a shout of defiance, the company formed the formation, as did the rest of the Roman line, causing a dull rumble as shields bumped each other and men rattled them, ensuring that they overlapped to provide full coverage from missiles.


In a few minutes they were doing just that. A hail of arrows and stones bounced of the testudos; virtually no Romans were injured. This changed when the Suebi javelin-men came within range. Their heavier missiles pierced some shields, killing or wounding the owners outright or opening them up to further missile fire by weighing down the shields. Shrieks of pain rose, dispersed throughout the line.


"Here it comes!" shouted Liborius. God but he hated enduring the storms of missiles the Germanii were so fond of. Through narrow gaps in the Testudo he could see the Suebi infantry closing, breaking into a run, howling as they came.


"...and scatter them: shoot out thine arrows, and destroy them." As Callistus prayed the Suebi broke into a sprint to close the last few yards between them and the Romans. As if in answer to Callistus' prayer a shower of javelins streaked over the testudo and sliced through the front ranks of the charge as men crumpled and fell. The impetus of their charge disrupted, the Suebi met the Roman line rather softly. The braced Romans had no problem holding their formation.


To the far right horses were screaming and all around there was the great clamor of war. The men in the front ranks of both armies heaved at each other with their shields, occasionally jabbing at each other with spears or sneaking a slash with swords and knives. Then men behind held shields above their heads to fend off the ever-present missile fire. Callistus was in the front rank engaged in a deadly pushing contest with a similarly-sized German when the man to his right took a javelin to the face, falling instantly in a spray of blood. Donatus stepped forward to fill the gap in the line; luckily the spray of blood had blinded the German in front of him. Donatus dispatched the man easily with a spear thrust into his unarmored chest. He too, was soon engaged in a pushing match.


After several minutes of grunting and heaving, Donatus yelled "Callistus. On 3 a big one. 1,2, 3!" Both men heaved, giving their all, and three Suebi warriors stumbled back ever so slightly. But in was enough. Liborius jabbed his spear forward into the throat of one, ripped his spear out amidst a font of blood, then rammed his spear forward again only for it to deflect of his target's helmet. The man's head was knocked back violently. Another soldier down the line took advantage of this and crushed his face with the pommel of his sword. The German was held there for several minutes, his face a mangled mess, pinned by the crush of men between the walls of shields.



The struggle continued. Exhausted men pushed at each other and flailed their weapons at each other. Every so often a man would fall screaming to add to the pile of bodies beneath the combatants' feet. Callistus tripped over a corpse and a Suebi slammed his spear into his gut, throwing the Gallic Roman back into the formation. From the second line of the formation Liborius took advantage of the man's overextended arm and sawed his spearhead over the crook of the German's elbow, laming his arm instantly. Liborius stepped forward to close the hole left by Callistus.


Unexpectedly the man with the lamed arm whipped his head into Liborius'. They both reeled back and another German snaked his shortsword at Liberius' face. The blade, while pitted and dull cut through his face easily. Half-blinded Liborius dropped spear and shield and grappled with the man, opening him to attacks from other Romans' blades. As the German was pierced with multiple blades both he and Liborius collapsed into blackness.


As the darkness closed around him, Liborius heard a victorious cheer and an chorus of screams from far to the left.

YEAH! I get to re-use this bit! I did always like it. I'm starting another AAR because I have time to at the moment, what with winter break and all, and Red Snow will be wrapping up soon. Just as a disclaimer none of the characters mentioned above will be overly important to the story and may not reappear at all, except the commander, perhaps. This AAR will be written with one of the main characters being.......... A FEMALE! There will be Romans, there will be barbarians, and I wanted to try writing with a female character. Also, I haven't yet decided about whether or not I will be using pictures or not. I might not but put more into another piece, I'm not sure

I feel that I should also say that this, more than anything else I've written, will probably develop slowly and sporadically depending on my time, inspiration, and motivation


A small note on names: by late antiquity, the format of Roman names had changed to the point that the first name was a family name, the second often a family name and used to be polite, and the third name a personal name, or to distinguish individuals for whom the first two names were identical.

A certain Gaius Julius Caesar would be called "Gaius Julius" and only Caesar by close acquaintances, and "Julius" in less formal situations

Lucius Balventus Eutychianus would be called "Lucius Balventus" or "Balventus", and his friends could call him "Eutychianus"

If he had a brother called Lucius Balventus Norbanus then the third name would likely be incorporated in some fashion

Any experts on late Roman naming practices can feel free to correct me, I've only got so much time to research this stuff

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Trivial note: I had intended for Braith in the Tin Isles to be an important character, but due to certain developments that never got around to happening, but I have been wanting to write a female character for a while, so here it is

[waveman]

I.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The mop hit the floor with a wet slap, and she pushed it around, wiping away the grime, before rinsing it in a wooden bucket and repeating the process. Slap. She continued. Then onto a fine brush with bristles ever so soft, to gently tease the dirt away from the villa's mosaics without dampening the lively colors. If Mother saw her doing this she would throw a fit, but the cleaning calmed her, and the slaves and servants turned a blind eye to her when she cleaned - it meant less work for them, and why invoke the ire of either domina if it could be avoided?


Licinia Balventia Mariana, fillia Eutychianus had many things to think about. Her corner of the world had been quiet - shaken by the recent storms yes, but as yet undamaged. Gallia Aquitania often avoided the power struggles of those who longed for the imperial purple, and the walls of Burdigala were strong and stout. Usurpers from Britannia often found the whole of Gaul amenable to their needs, she mused as she coaxed the dirt from the image of a gladiator, but Gallia was a fickle mistress, and a general who could not win victories was a general who could not protect them from the Barboricum. In Italia and Illyria there were rampaging hordes, Africa had unruly tribesmen aplenty, and eastern Gaul had only the scant protection of a river and the scattered limitanei. And they were being overrun.


She sighed as she dusted a brutish Gallic warrior from centuries past, eager to move on to the triumphant legionary approaching him. The good news was that Lower Britain was holding -thriving in fact. Spurius Crassus was becoming something of a hero: in 398 he had crossed the channel and put to the torch the Frankish stronghold of Durocorotum, formerly a Roman stronghold, and if that victory had been in terms of morale - bolstering the Romans', diminishing the Franks' - then at least it had checked their advance for some time. A lighting march had led him to crush the armies of the rebellious Gauls in the north the next spring before racing back to Londinium and defending it from what was, by all accounts, a veritable horde of Celtii.


But not all could be good news, it seemed. Caesar crossing the Rubicon would need to be touched up. It seemed that the Franks and the Anglii were preparing to march again for her father's spies had reported that they were marshalling their forces. Yes, something would have to be done. Yes, the odds seemed to favor 401 being a bloody year, and they would need to be finding an artisan for the mosaic before the party.

[McScottish]

A party?! Ooo, I adore parties!

Looking good, waveman, looking good - excellent writing style, very nice flow, and I can only say that I am certainly looking forward to more.

[waveman]

II.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Lucius Balventus Eutychianus reclined on his couch, sipping sparingy at his wine from a finely inlaid silver goblet. This gathering was a yearly tradition , and the leading fammilies of Aquitania were all in attendance. The guest of honor, however, was one Gratianus Laelius Domitianus, a man with important contacts across the entire empire. Eutychiaus gazed about the room. HIs wife Paulina had retired for the night, claiming exhaustion from her pregnancy. Still, she had stayed long enough to take in the work of the servants: the fine couches arranged by social rank, yet placed just so as to prevent any insult, the beautiful silver tree that was the centerpiece, from which hung exotic delicacies of outrageous price. The crimson drapery around the hall, subtle reminders of their Roman roots, for Eutychianus' family had been important in Rome before rising to greater - if more distant - importance in Gaul. Then of course the mosaics, whish seemed to come to life in the flickering firelight.....


The wine flowed freely, and the atmosphere was entirely positive. But what else was to be expected? This was their opportunity to forget the stress of everyday life, the pall that hung over them, the ever-present threats of civil war and foreign invasion.


HIs attention was called back to the present by his guest of honor. "A fine party!" smiled Praeconinus. "I am fortunate to find myself in the finest house in Gaul!"


Eutychianus smiled back. "It is an honor to hve you here, friend, and a pleasure to hear that you are enjoying yourself so."


They exchanged lwasantries for some time, and then Praeconinus motioned for his wine cup to be filled yet again. "So," he saud, "now that the wine has loosened my tounge, what information of the glory of Roma can I tell you?" The corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly into a smile as he said this.




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Licinia Balventia Mariana was deep in conversation with her peers in the women's area when a servant arrived, summoning her to her father's side. She had seen her mother take her leave of the festivities, for she was fiercely protective of her unborn child, her pregnancy so unexpected after the sixteen years she had been barren after Mariana's birth.


She left as immediately as politeness would allow with promises to tell her companions about the great G. Laelius Praeconinus. She threaded her way through the couches of lounging nobles making brief eye contact with a few she knew, and some others who were allies and friends of her parents. Not a few watched her as she made her way to her father's side, for she was slender, with dark hair that contrasted appealingly with her pale skin, and her face and eyes had a lively spark to them.


She arrived as a stranger - he must be Praeconinus, she thought - wdas talking: "...of course, they are in disarray, but then so are we. Hard action is needed. Not since Hannibal has Roma seen such trouble." As he finished, the other men, all leading citizens of Gallia Aquitania, nodded in agreement with the man. He was, in a word, compact - a tight bundle of muscle and intent.


"All too true," her father said. "I believe, however, that the young will be having a large part to play in this drama. Allow be to introduce my son, Lucius Balventus Crispus," he gestured at a tall young man with piercing brown eyes and the build of a soldier, "and my daughter, Licinia Balventia Mariana." The siblings bowed to Praeconinus, who looked them over, as if trying to measure their worth, although he looked much longer at Crispus.


"My, my Eutychianus," he said. "This one has the build of a champion!"


One of his companions added, "I don't doubt the sight of a COHORT of his like would send the barbarians scurrying back across the Rhine!"


Crispus flushed with pleasure and their father smiled proudly. "He has taken his training and his education quite seriously, read all of the classics, and is now serving as an officer for the garrisons of Aquitania. He even helped put down some bagaudae in the north!"


Crispus smiled humbly. "It was nothing, Father."


"Nonsense!" barked Praeconinus. "Tell us about this victory!" He was leaning back now as all eyes focused on Crispus. He brushed a hand through the unruly curly hair for which he had been named, gathering his thoughts. With everyone's attention on him, Mariana thought she was the only one to hear Praeconinus finish his statement with a muttered, "God knows we need them."


Her brother soon launched into the tale, revelling in the attention he was receiving, recounting how as the foot soldiers had closed in on the rebels, his commander lead the horse in "a classic flanking maneuver, clean as you like!" The veterans in the group looked pleased, the civilians following their lead. "Then," Crispus said, "I felt a bit off. I looked to the treeline, and not fifty paces away there was another body of foes, ready to pounce on us!" Of course, Crispus' observation had saved the contingent of horsemen, and after that the rebels had easily been mopped up. Mariana was proud of her brother, and she could see their father was as well. She could also see that Praeconinus seemed impressed, and it seemed wholly genuine.


He gazed at Crispus and Eutychianus before speaking. "A good commander has need of friends in Gaul. My brother and I-" there was a sharp intake iof breath, for both of the Gratianus brothers were renowned for their victories in Hispania and Africa agains the desert tribes "- my brother and I have friends in Hispania. We would like to extend such friendship to you, Balventus." Mariana's father blinked, surprised at the offer. "Of course," Praeconinus continued, "those in Gallia also have need of the friendship and support of a commander." He paused to let that sink in. "Finally, a good commander has need of good officers, and I think the boy has the potential to become just that. So, what do you say?"


Lucius Balventus Eutychianus smiled broadly and leaned forward, clasping Praeconinus' proferred forearm. "I accept!"

[waveman]

Thank you for your kind words McScottish, you are most welcome at this party

[Zeion]

Well done waveman!
Really nice and slick style. This seems to become a very personal tale about Licinia, so this is going to be interesting indeed.

I'm just wondering: Is this actually following a campaign or is it basically a short-story? If it is connected to a save-game, I'm curious about how you will play out Licinia's fate (assuming she is an actual in-game character).
Keep up the nice work!

[waveman]

Thank you Zeion! It is following the events of 3-5 turns of a campaign that saw some dramatic events happen involvong several factions. So it is conntected to a game but I'll be taking a lot of artistic liscense with the year or so it covers (and potentially what happens after)

I also have been meaning to write about a female character for some time, but for various reasons it didnt seem to work out until now

[waveman]

Thank you Zeion! It is following the events of 3-5 turns of a campaign that saw some dramatic events happen involvong several factions. So it is conntected to a game but I'll be taking a lot of artistic liscense with the year or so it covers (and potentially what happens after)

I also have been meaning to write about a female character for some time, but for various reasons it didnt seem to work out until now

[Alwyn]

Nicely done, with great description and characters, I look forward to seeing what happens to Licinia and the others.

[waveman]

III - reposting

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

As the Romans in Burdigala were celebrating the coming of the new year, so too were the cause of their main concerns: the Franks. The brothers Faramund and Emelrich had led a confederation of tribes across the Rhine in a series of raids that grew in number with every success. When there was little Roman resistance, the raiders stayed to settle the land. Thus was Gallia Belgica lost to them, though not wholly without a fight; Spurius Crassus regularly dispatched sorties agains the Franks, even going so far as to burn Durocortorum three years ago, in the year the Christians numbered 398.


Alberic sat at a campfire - one of thousands sitting around hundreds of such fires - with an ever-full cup of mead. Faramund knows how to motivate his men, he thought as he drained his cup. Mead, women, wine and plunder. He and his companions boasted of the exploits they would soon accomplish. I'll take a wall myself! Find the prettiest woman this side of the Alps! Be named a noble myself! Claim riches to rival Faramund himself! Sod that, the riches of Rome! I'll be named king! Kill the emperor myslef! Burn that Spurius Crassus! Kill a mountain!


As the nights wore on the men grew more and more spirited. Some belted out songs to the heavens while others began brawling, leading their officers to knock them senseless unitl their full senses returned.


Alberic woke to only a mild headache, but sunlight so bright it reflected off any and everything and causing triple images, compromised balance, and a mouth so dry it felt cracked as the fabled deserts of the distant south. He pushed the girl off of him - gently, she had been sweet - and rose unsteadily to his feet, stumbled to the water trough. Had to find another; it was full of vomit. Having found clear water, he proceeded to take the edge of his thirst, gulping wildly at the pure liquid and again forswearing alcohol.


"Ah, drink. An enemy that can fell an army. We are fortunate the Romans have not yet learned of our one great weakness," a calm voice said behind Alberic.


He turned, covering his face to shield it from the cruel light and peered at the stranger who mocked him. Then spat a gob of salive at the newcomer's feet. And rushed to embrace him.


"Leuther! I did not expect to see you here!" he roared.


"Nor I you, at least not in this state, cousin," Leuthere replied, quiter.


Alberic shrugged. "There is no great wealth for me in Frisia. With the spoils of Faramund's coming attack to the west, who knows?" He stepped back unsteadily to take a better look at his eldest cousin. What he saw was a strong warrior bearing armor of bright silver scales and a richly embroidered cloack, a short, neat beard and hair much shorter than that of Alberic's companions. "You seem to have done well for yourself! Come, tell me, how have you been these last years? And why have you cut your hair so short?!?"


Leuther draped an arm around the youth's shoulders, steering him away from the decastation of the night's festivities, his face controrted. "Very well, very well, but first, what is that smell?"


Alberic patted his arm. "Best not to know, I think."


********************************


They returned to Leuther' s own tent in the prestigious area alloted to the cavalry. Horsemen were hard to come by, especially good horsemen. It took years of training. Any man could be taught to hold a spear and a shield and to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brothers. Many were born for just that purpose, and many more would never surpass that purpose.


Men like Leuther learned to fight as they grew, and to ride, and eventually united these skills in the form of accomplished cavalrymen. While the shieldwalls engaged the enemy infantry, it was their job to harass them, pin or even sweep away enemy horse, and finally execute devasting charges agains the enemy infantry. Such tactics had worked well for Faramund and Emelrich in the past.


As they entered the tent Leuther unfastened his sash and two servants emerched to help divest him of his armor. He sighed as its weight was removed from his shoulders. Alberic snorted. "Did you put that shiny coat on for fear of walking through a drunken army?"


Leuther shook his head and rolled his shoulders. "Of course not. I could drink a brace of you whelps under a table and fight the next day. No, I arrived in the camp only this morning from Augusta Treverorum. Emelrich, brother to the High King, wished to finalize his plans with Faramund. You would be surprised at how much it takes to field such an army."


"You were a messenger of Emelrich himself?" Alberic had had no idea his cousin was so trusted.


Leuther continued his strethcing. "No," he replied nochalontly. "I rode as part of his escort." And he looked up, enjoying the shock on his younger coulin's face.


"Our horsemen were instrumental in ensuring a safe river crossing, and we took a great many prisoners in our people's first strike some years ago. And, it turns out I have a way with numbers. Which brings me to the second answer to your questions." He ran a hand through his short hair. "I find it is easier to work with the Romans lacking the long hair many of our people bear. It is much simpler to command the scribes and accountants and such. Tell me Alberic, how many men do you think are gathered here? Just the fighting men."


In truth Alberic had no idea. He guessed. "Eight thousands?"


Leuther shook his head. "As of now there are nearly twice that. And do you have any idea how much so many men must eat? And then there are the camp followers, the beasts, the horses-"


"There are nearly sixteen thousand?"


Leuther nodded offhandedly. "Yes, yes, and we hope - that is, Faramund and Emelrich are hoping to gather more. They've got something big planned."


*********************************************************************


Eventually, the party came to a close. The guests were seen off, some with escorts, or escorted to the rooms they would be staying in before they departed in the following days. Mariana left after most of the guests had. On her way back to her chambers, someone hissed her name.


She stopped, looked around to determine the source, and spotted her brother Crispus and his friend Praetextatus standing by a dore. They grinned mischeviously Crispus beckoned her over while Praetextatus held a cautionary finger to his lips. They leaned closer to the door and as MAriana approached it she could hear her father and Praeconinus speaking. With every passing moment she could picture her fathers lean body becoming tenser as the worry lines deepened across his brow while Praeconinus paced back and forth.


"They are talking of strategies and our armies' strengths," Crispus said, his voice the ghost of a whisper. And indeed they were.


"... not five years ago!" Praeconinus was saying. "Now, we have but half of that strength in Gallia Transalpina." It was odd hearing such an outdated term. "Perhaps fifty thousands? And scattered .... countryside."


"We've Crassus to north. His victories have been of great reassurance. As of course have you and your brothers' to our south," Eutychianus countered.


"And how long do you think he can keep that up? Crassus, damn the man had thirty thousand men, give or take five or so - damn Britons are terrible with their paperwork. That was five years ago. I'd be surprised if he had twenty thousands now." There was a pause, and Mariana had to cover her mouth to prevent a startled gasp from escaping.


"Surely..." her father ventured.


"No, that damn rebel Hadrianus, can you believe the stones on that man? Incites a legion - or what's left of it - to rebellion at Hadrian's Wall and then takes it for his name! He's pushing south now, as are the Celts. So even if he can safely evacuate his men to Gallia, there are the tribes occupying the north now. I'm sure you can see..." the conversation became too quiet to hear for a time. They could only hear scattered words: "Bubulcus," Praeconinus' elder half-brother; "twenty thousands of...," "Maurian cities burned...."


Then, more interesting news, again from Praeconinus. "Rest assured, I will watch your son carefully. He has the makings of a good officer. And I meant what I said earlier about us needing each other. You can provide food, scouts and the like. My brother and I, protection. My spies have brought word that the Germanii are assembling in great numbers, many thousands... catch them.... between..... training more men."


Crispus, Praetextatus and Mariana looked at each other, now fully aware of the dangers that threatened them.

[waveman]

IV

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Climbing to the tops of the towers of Burdigala afforded a clear view of the countryside around the city. As such it also provided a clear view of the soldiery of Burdigala as they trained.


And the soldiers looked splendid to Mariana and her companions as they marched in the flelds around the city. Some four thousands were present, with more in the city and yet more entering into the training. They were resplendent in coats of bright mail and dark leather, a sturdy shield and polished helmet for every man in the field, save for the novices hacking at stakes with wooden swords. Licinius Balventus Eutychianus had spent a fortune in outfitting them. "A soldier without proper equipment is about as effective as a crumbling wall," he had said, looking pointedly at the walls thet were, of course, in good repair. "In defense of the city one has need of both." And so he had levied heavier taxes on the people, especially the wealthy. None of this money would see Roma , for if the Eternal City could not protect them then they would need to protect themselves.


Some of the noble families had been outraged by the taxes, had sent complaints to Eutychianus. He told them contemptuously that by all means, yes, they could keep their wealth to themselves, but if the Franks did show up they would find no safe harbour in Burdigala. Most paid.


Mariana's eyes at last found her brother. He was with the cavalry, galloping through maneuvers and when they came to a rest, Crispus trotted over to a man on on a magnificent white horse. "Look!" she cried, "Crispus speaks with the general himself!" Marca Aurelia Eponina and Tiberia Sexta Rutila rushed to the battlements to see and clapped in delight.


"Oh, and there's Gaius Atellus!" Eponina nudged Mariana, who flushed, pointing out a newly-appointed officer of the garrison. "He does look dashing, and so does your brother!" They continued with this game for some time, pointing out their acquaintances. Some had been enlisted in the army for some time, but many had leapt at the recent chance to gain prestige as officers in the swelling ranks of the garrison, for they would be going on patrols and perhaps even fighting some pillaging warbands.


Some hours later, the girls made their way back to the city. The troops' drilling had ended, and besides, they had run out of appealing reading material. They passed by some market stalls and stopped their slaves and chaperons to examine the fine wares on display. "Make it fast," murmured Eponina. Mariana nodded thanks and slipped away from the party towards the barracks. She was, of course, not looking for a common soldier, but all of the equipment was kept there.


A hand on her arm arrested her. "Atellus!" she whispered, embracing him. They shared a brief kiss. "I don't have long," she murmured. The others will be expecting me back soon."


Salvius Gaius Atellus sighed, pushing her back to look at her. "But we only ever have so little time," he said wistfully.


"Stop that!" Mariana replied with a lighthearted smack on his arm. "In truth I am not even supposed to be away! And I shudder to think what would happen if my father were to find out I was seeing you like this." He grimaced at the thought, then brightened.


"Worry not, I have great opportunity to rise in station should the barbarians come south! Then could your father see me as a potential match for his precious daughter."


"I should hope so. But won't it be dangerous?"


Atellus shook his head. "No, the officers are much safer, you see, and I am of course a Roman officer." He kissed her forehead. "Now be off with you! We can't go arousing any suspicions." He patted her rear as she turned away, and she yelped. She glared at him, but he merely winked to her and trotted back towards the barracks.


When she rejoined her friends at the stalls, Eponina and Rutila drifted to her side. "All went well?" Eponina inquired. Mariana nodded, her eyes dancing. If he could only rise in station...


"You must tell us everything later!" Rutila said.
*******************************************************************************


Five hundred miles away, Alberic was getting training of a much more practical sort in the art of pillage. His warband - or rather, the warband he was a part of - was rampaging through a decent sized town with several others. Screams and flames were everywhere and thick smoke billowed over the town, through which the sunset turned a bloody red. Alberic, Walla, Turpin and Vedast were following the lead of two grizzled veterans called Thankmar and Suidbert. They kicked down doors and roared at the terrified Romans, demanding their hidden wealth, delivering ruthless beatings and other atrocities when need or fancy demanded it.


Then they dashed to another house, and another. Gutted a man with a sword in the streets. Burned their way through another street, at which point they were confronted by six armed men, two of whom were armoured; Alberic, Walla and Vedast dropped their plunder and skewered one of the men repeatedly with their spears while Thankmar and Suidbert easily cut down a Roman each. The remaining three scattered and the Franks scooped up their dropped goods and continued on their bloody way to the respite of the warm embrace of wine and a gods-be-thanked untouched whorehouse.

A small note on names: by late antiquity, the format of Roman names had changed to the point that the first name was a family name, the second often a family name and used to be polite, and the third name a personal name, or to distinguish individuals for whom the first two names were identical.

A certain Gaius Julius Caesar would be called "Gaius Julius" and only Caesar by close acquaintances, and "Julius" in nonformal situations

Lucius Balventus Eutychianus would be called "Lucius Balventus" or "Balventus", and his friends could call him "Eutychianus"

If he had a brother called Lucius Balventus Norbanus then the third name would likely be incorporated in some fashion

Any experts on late Roman naming practices can feel free to correct me, I've only got so much time to research this stuff

[Alwyn]

It's good to see the return of part III (I particularly like the way that the boasts of the men around the campfire get wilder and wilder). In part IV, there is great contrast between the calm of Burdigala, where young women watch soldiers in training, and the violence of Alberic's warband. I wonder if the lives of Mariana and Gaius Atellus - and Alberic - will come into contact with each other and what the outcome will be.

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

(I particularly like the way that the boasts of the men around the campfire get wilder and wilder).

Me too. Planning to kill a mountain certainly shows ambition...

In IV, I thought the description of the girls watching the soldiers was nicely done. Alberic's section was short, but I liked that - the way you wrote it suggested the fast pace of events to me, and left me wanting to know what Alberic will do once he's recovered from the next hangover!

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Glad to be able to catch an AAR of yours waveman, I've heard really good things about The Tin Isles so its great finally being able to read some of your work. Great job on the chapters so far, love the cast of characters and the perspective of a young women contrasts really nicely with this sense of impending trouble.

Looking forward to more.

[Lugotorix]

IV

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Climbing to the tops of the towers of Burdigala afforded a clear view of the countryside around the city. As such it also provided a clear view of the soldiery of Burdigala as they trained.


And the soldiers looked splendid to Mariana and her companions as they marched in the flelds around the city. Some four thousands were present, with more in the city and yet more entering into the training. They were resplendent in coats of bright mail and dark leather, a sturdy shield and polished helmet for every man in the field, save for the novices hacking at stakes with wooden swords. Licinius Balventus Eutychianus had spent a fortune in outfitting them. "A soldier without proper equipment is about as effective as a crumbling wall," he had said, looking pointedly at the walls thet were, of course, in good repair. "In defense of the city one has need of both." And so he had levied heavier taxes on the people, especially the wealthy. None of this money would see Roma , for if the Eternal City could not protect them then they would need to protect themselves.


Some of the noble families had been outraged by the taxes, had sent complaints to Eutychianus. He told them contemptuously that by all means, yes, they could keep their wealth to themselves, but if the Franks did show up they would find no safe harbour in Burdigala. Most paid.


Mariana's eyes at last found her brother. He was with the cavalry, galloping through maneuvers and when they came to a rest, Crispus trotted over to a man on on a magnificent white horse. "Look!" she cried, "Crispus speaks with the general himself!" Marca Aurelia Eponina and Tiberia Sexta Rutila rushed to the battlements to see and clapped in delight.


"Oh, and there's Gaius Atellus!" Eponina nudged Mariana, who flushed, pointing out a newly-appointed officer of the garrison. "He does look dashing, and so does your brother!" They continued with this game for some time, pointing out their acquaintances. Some had been enlisted in the army for some time, but many had leapt at the recent chance to gain prestige as officers in the swelling ranks of the garrison, for they would be going on patrols and perhaps even fighting some pillaging warbands.


Some hours later, the girls made their way back to the city. The troops' drilling had ended, and besides, they had run out of appealing reading material. They passed by some market stalls and stopped their slaves and chaperons to examine the fine wares on display. "Make it fast," murmured Eponina. Mariana nodded thanks and slipped away from the party towards the barracks. She was, of course, not looking for a common soldier, but all of the equipment was kept there.


A hand on her arm arrested her. "Atellus!" she whispered, embracing him. They shared a brief kiss. "I don't have long," she murmured. The others will be expecting me back soon."


Salvius Gaius Atellus sighed, pushing her back to look at her. "But we only ever have so little time," he said wistfully.


"Stop that!" Mariana replied with a lighthearted smack on his arm. "In truth I am not even supposed to be away! And I shudder to think what would happen if my father were to find out I was seeing you like this." He grimaced at the thought, then brightened.


"Worry not, I have great opportunity to rise in station should the barbarians come south! Then could your father see me as a potential match for his precious daughter."


"I should hope so. But won't it be dangerous?"


Atellus shook his head. "No, the officers are much safer, you see, and I am of course a Roman officer." He kissed her forehead. "Now be off with you! We can't go arousing any suspicions." He patted her rear as she turned away, and she yelped. She glared at him, but he merely winked to her and trotted back towards the barracks.


When she rejoined her friends at the stalls, Eponina and Rutila drifted to her side. "All went well?" Eponina inquired. Mariana nodded, her eyes dancing. If he could only rise in station...


"You must tell us everything later!" Rutila said.
*******************************************************************************


Five hundred miles away, Alberic was getting training of a much more practical sort in the art of pillage. His warband - or rather, the warband he was a part of - was rampaging through a decent sized town with several others. Screams and flames were everywhere and thick smoke billowed over the town, through which the sunset turned a bloody red. Alberic, Walla, Turpin and Vedast were following the lead of two grizzled veterans called Thankmar and Suidbert. They kicked down doors and roared at the terrified Romans, demanding their hidden wealth, delivering ruthless beatings and other atrocities when need or fancy demanded it.


Then they dashed to another house, and another. Gutted a man with a sword in the streets. Burned their way through another street, at which point they were confronted by six armed men, two of whom were armoured; Alberic, Walla and Vedast dropped their plunder and skewered one of the men repeatedly with their spears while Thankmar and Suidbert easily cut down a Roman each. The remaining three scattered and the Franks scooped up their dropped goods and continued on their bloody way to the respite of the warm embrace of wine and a gods-be-thanked untouched whorehouse.

A small note on names: by late antiquity, the format of Roman names had changed to the point that the first name was a family name, the second often a family name and used to be polite, and the third name a personal name, or to distinguish individuals for whom the first two names were identical.

A certain Gaius Julius Caesar would be called "Gaius Julius" and only Caesar by close acquaintances, and "Julius" in nonformal situations

Lucius Balventus Eutychianus would be called "Lucius Balventus" or "Balventus", and his friends could call him "Eutychianus"

If he had a brother called Lucius Balventus Norbanus then the third name would likely be incorporated in some fashion

Any experts on late Roman naming practices can feel free to correct me, I've only got so much time to research this stuff

Noted for future reference in my late antiquity writing. Thanks for the insight.

[waveman]

No prob Lugo. Stumbled upon that info while researching Roman names or how Late Roman women spent their time. In any case...

V.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Was she a fool? Perhaps. Was she a fool in her choice of men? Mariana liked to think not. Salvius Gaius Atellus was the son of some minor nobility in Gallia Aquitania. But whereas his father was content to sit in a small villa in the country, Atellus wanted more. He was confident, though not an ass about it. Certainly he did not see her as a means for advancement; her father would not consider even allowing him to court her unless he had either fame or fortune to his name, the more of each the better.


He would rise, he must rise. She had heard her father talking with Gratianus. The army was coming, and for a time her father seemed more worried by this than the Franci. He had screemed at the general, even, but in the end had been given assurances that the Gratianus brothers were not as weak-willed as many of their counterparts. Theft would be punished, rapists and murderers executed or worse. Added onto this, the army would not be billeted within the walls of Burdigala or any of the surrounding towns. Eutychianus had sagged with relief and had offered to begin erecting a camp city as soon as would be prudent.


Perversely, the dangerous air about Gallia Aquitania seemed to draw people to the province. Mariana could not fathom it until her brother explained it to her. When she finally did ask him, he snorted. "Given how much freedom Father has given you, I would have thought that you'd figured it out by now, my clever sister." She rolled her eyes and made to leave, but he continued on. "The first to come are welcome and yet not welcome. The fighting men. Mercenaries, fortune-seekers, anonymous fugitives." She snorted at that.


Crispus spread his arms wide. "It is true! We are fortunate to live in Burdigala, with proud citizens and good governance, soldiers who are given proper arms and armor. Most Romans shun the army like they are barbarians and for good reason."


"Yes, they are barbarians."


"Not all, sister, but even those who are not often behave as such. So these are the fighting men. However, the discipline of the forces already here, and the fact that we have thousands native to Gallia Aquitania means there will be little destruction. Soldiers will fight to defend their homes," he said with a distant expression. It lasted only a heartbeat or so, then he ocntinued on. "In fact, the region is much safer. So refugees and more importantly traders will come. And with trade comes wealth, and with wealth comes a stronger army."


"And more barbarians."


Crispus nodded. "I think we shall most certainly have to fight them. Northern Gallia," he said, gesturing vaguely to the west, "is a poor target for the Franks. It is pillaged often enough. They will strike either south or west. If they go south first, can you guess their next target?"


"West."


"Indeed. There is a chance that they might instead head for Italia, but I think there is a better chance they will come this way. And if it is not the Franks, it will be someone else - other barbarians, other Romans."






Winter continued onward, gave way to spring. The chill had left the air - Mariana was grateful, but the thousands drilling in the fields around Burdigala sweated harder for it. Mariana would often watch their endeavors from Burdigala's stone battlements with other members of the city's social elite, though rarely the same companions each time. She had begun to embroider one of her brother's capes for the campaigns he was so sure were to come, and Eponina and Rutila often helped her with it, or worked on projects of their own while they watched the drilling soldiers.


One afternoon, as they lounged in the shade of canopies erected for their comfort, Rutila lazily picked at the cape. It was a magnificent crimson with gold and brown designs worked to frame the rider and the shape of a lion's head forming in the center. "This will look splendid on your brother," she said, "but do you really think there will be a campaign."


"He seems to think so," Mariana huffed indignantly. "I see no reason to doubt him. He was right about those bandits after all, and even Gratianus Laelius himself seems sure that there will be."


The shorter girl shook her head. "I do not mean to dash your hopes for either your brother or Atellus, but I am not sure it will ocme to pass. And besides, Gratianus Laelius could march into Gallia Belgica from here. Its not the first time barbarians have tried to take territory. It would be better that way."


"Yes, of course," Mariana agreed. They could easily all march to Belgica."


"The Gratianus brothers already have many thousands of men, men that they led in Iberia and Mauretania."


"That does not mean that our men will be left behind," Mariana insisted.


"The Gratianus brothers have no reason to bring them. They will have many men from Iberia, veterans even, thousands of them! What have our men ever fought? A few brigands and raiders?" Rutila opened her mouth to continue, but Mariana cut her off.


"It is experience nonetheless!" snapped Mariana. "And we are feeding and hosting them."


Eponina had listened to the exchange in silence. In an effort to defuse the conversation she cleared her throat gently. "Have you been around to the latest debates?" Her companions jumped and turned to her, slightly abashed. "Causenianus has said that with the limitanei lines overrun we should be shifting our focus towards establishing a new set of limes. Of course, unitl Augustus can restore Gallia Belgica."


Cheeks burning, Mariana stammered her admission that no, she had not heard the debates, but that yes, that did sound quite reasonable.


Rutila allowed a few soft coughs to escape from her and accepted water offered to her by a servant. When she was finished, she offered her knowledge of the predicted campaigns.


"I have heard Drusus speak. He is confident it shall be as in the past. The limitanei reorganized while the comitatensis are gathered and deployed. Then the boundaries will be established once again, with perhaps a raid into the barboricum."


The three girls nodded at that; it was a common practice, especially when the invaders did not number in excess of a few thousands. One aspect of the discussion felt wrong to Mariana. She let the sun warm her face as she thought, half-listening to her companions' conversation and letting her mind drift back to the many discussions she had listened in to, both licit and illicitly.


When she looked up, Eponina and Rutila were both looking at her. "Drusus, is expecting a simple capaign, is he not?" she asked. "Causenianus too?" She received a nod from both girls. "I have not listened to either Causenianus or Drusus, nor Old Felix -"


"He is in agreement with Causenius," Rutila supplied.


"-but I have listened to my father and my brother. And Gratianus Laelius." She was enjoying drawing this out, quite aware of having captivated her companions' attention. "They seem to be planning a sizeable campaign."


She let that sit for a few minutes, until Eponina finally asked exactly how siaeable she meant. She raised her eyebrows ar Eponina. "Tens of thousands of men. An army of the like not seen in Gallia since Caesar!"


"But it can't really be that bad," said Rutila. "Even our soldiers are a rough sort. No insult meant, Eponina."


"Of course. And my father was a Roman soldier. In any case."

Next part well return to Alberic

[waveman]

VI: The March Begins

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Alberic stood amidst a veritable forest of spears. He'd had no idea that Faramund and Emelrich could command so many men to march - it was rumored that there were just under thirty thousand men ready for this war.


They were gathered in Avaricum, the staging point for their westward invasion. For some reason, it had only recently heard of the fall of the city, but then they had pressing concerns on every border and Faramund had left the city with only a skeleton force, dressed in Roman armor, until the snows had come. The few travelers who may have wanted to enter the warzone that was northern Gaul were dissuaded by the severe weather, and most of the Gallic people were unable to flee. By the time the spring thaws had begun they had decided that Frankish rule was not so bad, and that to flee elsewhere was to put themselves in the pathway of the barbarians yet again.


For Alberic and the rest of the Franks, the spring had taken far too long to arrive. The boredom had gnawed at them, and Franks had run out of suplies to feed their vast army. So, leaving only a thousand men behind, Framund had marched off towards the fertle lands to the southwest.


While not yet as experienced as the core of the army, all of the warbands had now seen at least some combat and death.In the first new set of raids as the army began its march westward, Vedast had bolted from the small band while the grizzled Thankmar had roared at him to come back. Suidbert had punched him in the jaw, ordering him to forget the youth, and bellowed at the rest of his men fo form a shield wall to safely approach the now-alerted village. They had done so, advancing cautiously and making sure that each man had was fully covered.


For his part, Vedast had blitzed past an astonished maid in a field, not even looking at the girl twice, and crashed through the door of her hut. He sweapt through the house, overturning the sparse furnature and tearing shelves apart, scattering small amounts of silver until he found bread, sweet bread, and wine to go with it.


In the meantime, the rest of the warband crawled into the village. When a few hurled spears and farming implements were easily deflected by the wall of wood, the villagers began to scatter, scooping up children and valuables as they went.


"Burn the place!" roared Thankmar. "Leave nothing left!" He hurled a recently lit torch onto the thatched roof of the nearest hovel, but when he turned for another, none of his men had moved. Under his baleful gaze, they all scattered towards the abandoned houses.


"What are you daft fools doing?" he bellowed, looking around. The sounds of a scuffle broke out, and he ran into a building only to see Alberic and another warrior wrestling over the unconscious body of Walla for a heel of bread and a few sticks of dried meat. He thumped them harshly on the head then returned to the street, adding his voice to Suidbert's.


"Form up you stupid bastards! You can eat later! The Romans may still be here!" And indeed they were. Several had hidden or crept back and took advantage of the chaos to slit Frankish throats and hack raiders down with axes and scythes. By the time the Franks had regrouped twelve had fallen, seven of them dead. After that they were dispatched in groups of five to plunder the houses, siezing all valuables and food before firing them, which they did with enthusiasm, for they came upon no Romans upon which they could find veangeance.


The only other problem was encountered by Turpin's band.

[Alwyn]

The different perspectives (of the three young women and of Alberic) work well for me, this is enjoyable and effective writing!

[Caillagh de Bodemloze]

I'm still enjoying the unusual points of view in this. Using the young women as viewpoint characters gives you the chance to talk about war from a perspective most AARs don't cover, which is great!

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Agree with what the others have said. Great work on the latest updates.