Cato's Cavalry
- Thread starter Cymraeg
- Start date
forget
Banned
Mobilize Roman law enforcement and make them do garrison duty.
http://uktv.co.uk/yesterday/stepbystep/aid/588363
forget
Banned
The excerpt up at the top of the article mentions is about the contributions of Romans to british culture and society.
I quote.
Maybe the law enforcement man power is to small to bother conscripting it into garrison duty or into the armed forces.
It just thought it might might be worth mentioning.
I notice your quote. But the concept being borrowed doesn't mean that there are such fellows in Britain.
I agree. It's something that if it does exist should be used to its fullest extent.
We had coins at least a century before the Romans even sneezed in our direction. The earliest proper coins were imported from Gaul around 150 BC and by 80 to 60 BC the Cantii of Kent (after whom Canterbury is named) were minting their own.
The whole story Here
Aqueducts. I'll give em that
Roads? I'm sure I've seen something about a pre-Roman paved road somewhere in the UK on the net.
Here's a fun and fascinating article on myths and misconceptions about the Celts (roads are at 17)
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Yes, yes, peccavi, apologies everyone. Maisie the cockapoo puppy is a delight but holy crap she's a handful at times. I've been going through a severe barren patch in terms of writing. However, I'm making more of an effort now. Honest! 
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Telorix leant on his spear and stared out gloomily at the rolling hills to the North. It was a beautiful day. The heather was blooming and the air above the plants was filled with bees buzzing around, the sky was a clear blue and the sun was beating fiercely down. Spring had arrived with a vengeance. Unfortunately there was a gloom enshrouding his heart. Old Honorius was ill again.
He had perked up a lot after that visit by that bigwig from the South – enough to start training Ilerix again, and to start recruiting from the villages to the South. They had another two recruits starting after the next market interval.
But the winter had been a long one and a cold one and that amphora of garum sauce had finally run out and with it had gone something in the old soldier. He was sitting on a chair in the courtyard below, still in his armour, but coughing hard and looking dull-eyed and weak as he drowsed in the sunshine.
At least things were quiet. The rumours about the Painted People beyond the old wall to the North were dying down, although that could change at any moment. Presumably the high muckety-mucks who led the Votadini knew what was going on there, although that was also presuming that they knew their arses from their elbows, which as Honorius had always pointed out was a bit of a stretch at times.
He paced around the ramparts of the fort slowly. The thought of being Decurion of this place had terrified him the first time he’d considered it and it terrified him even more now. The thought of being responsible for the others brought him out into a cold sweat. He didn’t know enough about training, about fighting, about maintaining this place – he didn’t know anything, not really.
His pace around the ramparts had brought him around so that he was now looking South and he looked at the road to the village, before blinking and shaking his head at what he was seeing. A column of riders was approaching, with supply wagons following. They were led by a tall man with a scarlet cloak, with a rider bearing a standard just behind him. A golden dragon snarled at the air as it snapped back and forwards in the breeze.
Telorix turned and looked down into the courtyard. “Supply column coming up from the South Decurion!” he shouted, and Honorious looked up at him, suddenly awake, before he rose a little shakily to his feet.
Turning quickly Telorix clattered down the stairs, with an odd feeling bubbling in his throat. He felt like singing, a feeling that only grew as he entered the courtyard at about the same time as the head of the column.
Honorious looked up at the man in the scarlet cloak, before drawing himself up and saluting. The rider saluted back cheerfully. “Decurion Honorious?”
“Yes sir!”
“Centurion Lucius Caralix, Primus Pilus of Auxiliaries. Me and my men – a Turma of cavalry - are to be based along the wall in this sector, so I thought that I’d introduce myself. Oh, and I have a delivery for you from General Quintus Gratianus.” He gestured at the leading wagon as it entered the courtyard. “A load of new riding tack and ten amphorae of garum sauce.”
Telorix suddenly recognised the feeling. It was hope.
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Telorix leant on his spear and stared out gloomily at the rolling hills to the North. It was a beautiful day. The heather was blooming and the air above the plants was filled with bees buzzing around, the sky was a clear blue and the sun was beating fiercely down. Spring had arrived with a vengeance. Unfortunately there was a gloom enshrouding his heart. Old Honorius was ill again.
He had perked up a lot after that visit by that bigwig from the South – enough to start training Ilerix again, and to start recruiting from the villages to the South. They had another two recruits starting after the next market interval.
But the winter had been a long one and a cold one and that amphora of garum sauce had finally run out and with it had gone something in the old soldier. He was sitting on a chair in the courtyard below, still in his armour, but coughing hard and looking dull-eyed and weak as he drowsed in the sunshine.
At least things were quiet. The rumours about the Painted People beyond the old wall to the North were dying down, although that could change at any moment. Presumably the high muckety-mucks who led the Votadini knew what was going on there, although that was also presuming that they knew their arses from their elbows, which as Honorius had always pointed out was a bit of a stretch at times.
He paced around the ramparts of the fort slowly. The thought of being Decurion of this place had terrified him the first time he’d considered it and it terrified him even more now. The thought of being responsible for the others brought him out into a cold sweat. He didn’t know enough about training, about fighting, about maintaining this place – he didn’t know anything, not really.
His pace around the ramparts had brought him around so that he was now looking South and he looked at the road to the village, before blinking and shaking his head at what he was seeing. A column of riders was approaching, with supply wagons following. They were led by a tall man with a scarlet cloak, with a rider bearing a standard just behind him. A golden dragon snarled at the air as it snapped back and forwards in the breeze.
Telorix turned and looked down into the courtyard. “Supply column coming up from the South Decurion!” he shouted, and Honorious looked up at him, suddenly awake, before he rose a little shakily to his feet.
Turning quickly Telorix clattered down the stairs, with an odd feeling bubbling in his throat. He felt like singing, a feeling that only grew as he entered the courtyard at about the same time as the head of the column.
Honorious looked up at the man in the scarlet cloak, before drawing himself up and saluting. The rider saluted back cheerfully. “Decurion Honorious?”
“Yes sir!”
“Centurion Lucius Caralix, Primus Pilus of Auxiliaries. Me and my men – a Turma of cavalry - are to be based along the wall in this sector, so I thought that I’d introduce myself. Oh, and I have a delivery for you from General Quintus Gratianus.” He gestured at the leading wagon as it entered the courtyard. “A load of new riding tack and ten amphorae of garum sauce.”
Telorix suddenly recognised the feeling. It was hope.
People were talking about him behind his back – literally in many cases. It wasn’t his fault that he was short for his age. His father – his real father – had also been short when he had been young. He’d just have to grow up a lot.
Theoderic, King of the Visigoths, glared out of the window and clenched his fists. The Battle of Mogontiacum had been a disaster for his people. Alaric, his father, had been killed, as had the flower of the Visigothic nobility. And far too many warriors. The power of the Visigoths had been weakened, badly, and he knew it. He could tell by the discussions that he’d been having with Roman politicians. Alaric had been able to negotiate from a position of strength. He was now left trying to place his own diminished stock of stones on the board.
What they needed was land. Land, time to reorganise and above all time to plan. That meant haggling with that faithless bastard Stilicho. He’d seen the man once. He had a face like a fox and a mind like a snake. That wasn’t a good combination.
He straightened and then smiled quietly. He would have to be careful and cunning. And then when he took his revenge – and it would be a good revenge, involving warm blood running across marble flagstones – the shade of his father would be pleased with him. He knew it. He just needed time to allow people to underestimate him and-
The pain came as a shock. Something cold and very, very sharp was thrust into the right hand side of his back, slipping between his ribs and into his lungs. He opened his mouth to scream, but a hand was over his mouth, a hand clutching a pad with something wet on it. He gurgled wetly instead into the pad as he felt blood erupt deep in his lungs and he had a horrible choking sensation that felt like drowning. The blade came out and then flashed in again, deeper this time and the strength left his body in a rush as his legs gave out from under him.
His attacker lowered him to the ground carefully and then removed the blade. It was only then that Theoderic caught sight of his face. Amalaric. His older cousin. He made a massive effort and finally croaked out: “Why?”
“We need a leader who isn’t a little boy,” Amalaric ground out, his face working with a combination of shame and hatred.
Theoderic tried desperately to speak again, to tell him what he had to do, to tell him what the Visigoths needed, but the blood was filling his lungs now and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think he…
The last thing he saw was his cousin hurrying away down the corridor. And then the darkness claimed him.
Theoderic, King of the Visigoths, glared out of the window and clenched his fists. The Battle of Mogontiacum had been a disaster for his people. Alaric, his father, had been killed, as had the flower of the Visigothic nobility. And far too many warriors. The power of the Visigoths had been weakened, badly, and he knew it. He could tell by the discussions that he’d been having with Roman politicians. Alaric had been able to negotiate from a position of strength. He was now left trying to place his own diminished stock of stones on the board.
What they needed was land. Land, time to reorganise and above all time to plan. That meant haggling with that faithless bastard Stilicho. He’d seen the man once. He had a face like a fox and a mind like a snake. That wasn’t a good combination.
He straightened and then smiled quietly. He would have to be careful and cunning. And then when he took his revenge – and it would be a good revenge, involving warm blood running across marble flagstones – the shade of his father would be pleased with him. He knew it. He just needed time to allow people to underestimate him and-
The pain came as a shock. Something cold and very, very sharp was thrust into the right hand side of his back, slipping between his ribs and into his lungs. He opened his mouth to scream, but a hand was over his mouth, a hand clutching a pad with something wet on it. He gurgled wetly instead into the pad as he felt blood erupt deep in his lungs and he had a horrible choking sensation that felt like drowning. The blade came out and then flashed in again, deeper this time and the strength left his body in a rush as his legs gave out from under him.
His attacker lowered him to the ground carefully and then removed the blade. It was only then that Theoderic caught sight of his face. Amalaric. His older cousin. He made a massive effort and finally croaked out: “Why?”
“We need a leader who isn’t a little boy,” Amalaric ground out, his face working with a combination of shame and hatred.
Theoderic tried desperately to speak again, to tell him what he had to do, to tell him what the Visigoths needed, but the blood was filling his lungs now and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think he…
The last thing he saw was his cousin hurrying away down the corridor. And then the darkness claimed him.
I think I'd prefer an amphora of Garum sauce crossed with someone being sick into a basin.
As you might have gathered, I am not a fan of the idea of garum!
forget
Banned
If the Visgoths fall into along and bloody civil war Gaul may be ripped apart by various looting factions of the Visgoth army.
Gauls borders will be unprotected to the various ravaging barbarians out in the wilderness.
Or the Visgoths could be short and deceive, under the new leadership will most likely decide as in OLT they have had enough of bowing to the Romans and decide to pillage Gaul.
So bad for Rome maybe but not catastrophic unless Flavius Stilicho is executed in as in OLT, providing a catalyst for the sacking of Rome.
In light of Stilicho resent victories the possibility of the execution becomes more unlikely.
Either way Gaul is left to rip itself apart as in OLT with out the goths defending its borders.
Given Gauls close proximity to Briton, I guess this TL will likely give some focus on the Romans trapped in the madness of Gual and the Roman government in Briton reaction to events in Gaul.
I could be wrong in my guesstimates Cymraegs TL has been full of surprises so far.
Interesting!
I wonder where this excellent TL will go.
Due to the Battle on the Rhine (and the death of Alaric) and no rebellion in Britain Stilichos position in the empire is more secure than in OTL. And the stapeda has made its introduction on the continent in the mentioned battle. Will Stilicho survive and perhaps strengthen the empire? Or will the Western Empire fall more or less like in OTL?
I will follow this TL. When is the next update due?
flo
I wonder where this excellent TL will go.
Due to the Battle on the Rhine (and the death of Alaric) and no rebellion in Britain Stilichos position in the empire is more secure than in OTL. And the stapeda has made its introduction on the continent in the mentioned battle. Will Stilicho survive and perhaps strengthen the empire? Or will the Western Empire fall more or less like in OTL?
I will follow this TL. When is the next update due?
flo
Huzzah!
Like in one of John Ford's Cavalry Trilogy, the cavalry has shown up in the nick of time for Decurion Honorius!
I picture the role of Primus Pilus Cato as played by The Duke of c.1947-50 and Cato's reportedly formidable wife by the formidable Maureen O'Hara of the same era. Decurion Honorius would be played by Victor McLaglen also of Ford's Cavalry Trilogy.
Hero of Canton
http://www.destinationhollywood.com/movies/fortapache/feature_cavalrytrilogy.shtml
Like in one of John Ford's Cavalry Trilogy, the cavalry has shown up in the nick of time for Decurion Honorius!
I picture the role of Primus Pilus Cato as played by The Duke of c.1947-50 and Cato's reportedly formidable wife by the formidable Maureen O'Hara of the same era. Decurion Honorius would be played by Victor McLaglen also of Ford's Cavalry Trilogy.
Hero of Canton
http://www.destinationhollywood.com/movies/fortapache/feature_cavalrytrilogy.shtml
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