The field was green, a deep green, which reminded him briefly of his trips around the Rhone valley; the only striking difference being that this one was also dotted by small groups of bright yellow dandelions. The cool mountain air was a welcome refreshment to balance the heavy summer heat, and the winds that morning brought continuous, soothing drafts of it. It was truly a beautiful day to be outdoors. Unfortunately for his enemies, it would also be a beautiful day to perish.
“My Lord, we have word that the Romans have their Emperor in their midst” informed him one of his aides.
“Excellent, it seems that will be able to complete the bargain with Constantinople after all…” was the reply that Theuderic gave, gently scratching the back of his left hand against the stubble on his chin.
The Italian expedition was to be the last step before he retook the struggle against his longtime enemy; his uncle Clothar[1.] He had decided on accepting the Emperor’s offer since there was not really anything for him to lose and a lot of gold and prestige to gain. In fact, it could also be said to keep his men busy during the times of peace in Gaul.
And that’s always good. It had not been a bad spring for him. The Alpine passes had opened up early in the year; in late February surprisingly. His personal army had been reinforced by volunteers from all over the Frankish kingdoms, and from his brother Theuderbert’s [2] specially. Success had followed success. The Lombards had been caught completely by surprise and the army sent to meet him had been literally wiped out. On he had gone to besiege and take both Turin and Milan, with the contentious support of the Catholic populace, and Pavia had fallen barely a month after that. Ironically for Agiluf all of his efforts at internally reorganizing the kingdom, given the peace with the Romans, had been almost wiped out with the conquest of his two main cities. To top it off, as if it were not enough, treason was in the air with Gaidoald, the duke of Trent officially siding with the Franks and with Gisulf, the duke of Friuli, standing passively on the sidelines.
Not bad indeed.
Now here they were him, his men, and his Lombard allies, meeting whatever men Agiluf could have mustered alongside his Roman allies for a last stand. But what could the Romans have fielded? He had also heard of the disaster at Dyrrachium.
So the poor king and the child emperor have come. Let’s have us a battle then, he had thought
.
“Berthoald, sound the second charge.”
The king’s mayor of the palace gave the signal and the horns started to sound. Their deep bellow continued as more units of the Frankish infantry began to advance, trotting, franciscas on hand. Only a successful ambush by the weaker defenders could stop him now. But he had it all planned out; the field where they stood outside Pavia was level with no room to hide ambushes, with the river Po behind them to guard their rear. The superior moral of his men, with a little help from his cavalry would give him the day; he would annex the western duchies and give the rest to Gaidoald; send Theodosius’ head to Phocas, and get his gold.
And we all go home happy.
The combat had started about an hour earlier. There had barely been any skirmishing, as he ordered his archers to stand down; he was anxious to get the battle over with and continue on. The opposing forces were apparently composed mainly of Lombard infantry, at the head of which was Agiluf himself supposedly, although he could not distinguish him; coupled with a few Roman detachments. His infantry and Lombard king’s had engaged and neither side seemed to gain an advantage thus far.
Not to worry, hence the second wave.
The enemy had begun to show signs of movement as well. As the Frankish infantry marched forward, arrows started to rain down on his men, and the Lombards. “Get the horses moving and scatter their archers” he barked at Berthoald.
“My lord they don’t have archers in sight, unless they’re hiding behind the infantry that is now engaged…” commented the mayor.
“Well then have the horses outflank them and hunted them down!”
With another signal from Berthoald, the horns were blown again to a different note. His cavalry began to maneuver and charge towards the back of the enemy formation; but the arrows continued to come down, and he still could not see the archers. He hated having to play with his cavalry so early on, especially since the enemy’s was still waiting, but the lack of armor on his men worked to the benefit of the Lombards and their allies.
“Damn it Berthoald, let’s get those damn archers ourselves!”
Impatiently, he spurred his horse and began to lead his own guard towards the left flank of the Lombard infantry, sure that the archers were behind them. “My king, the Romans have archers riding on their horses!” shouted Berthoald as they continued the charge. “What?” he yelled back.
Nonsense. Suddenly, a terrible pain shot through his back, right below the left shoulder, and he began to fear a warm trickle, like sweat, run down his back.
An arrow. “Charge, damn it, charge!” He continued to roar in spite of the arrow wound. And then he saw it; the larger part of the Roman cavalry were indeed mounted archers, in fact there were even camels in their midst. They had been the ones shooting at his infantry, stationed as they were mixed with the rest of the enemy mounted troops; they had been undetected from afar. He witnessed how on the approach of his riders they fanned out and began to encircle his horsemen and even his own detachment, and kept on shooting his men down.
Now… this is new.
As they continued to chase the enemy archers, he discerned that the combat between his men and the Lombard infantry continued, with his men now getting the upper hand, as some Lombards had turned tail.
Now we’ve scattered the archers too…good, he reasoned. Incidentally, as he turned his head back to continue the chase, a gleaming ray caught his right eye. He had had a glimpse of the small detachment in the enemy lines that was still mounted, and had not dispersed, with riders and horses that were heavily armored. Aside from the obvious guards there were a few other men in somewhat adorned cuirasses.
Certainly not Lombards.
Romans. But one of them had the most elaborate cuirass of all. With golden insets. A young man.
Theodosius.
“Berthoald continue the chase with some of the men. The rest, follow me!” he commanded.
He pulled on the reins, turning his horse and began to charge towards the mounted enemy party. “Men! To me!” he cried out. Even with just half his horsemen behind him, he should still outnumber them by about three to one. The enemy had seen him coming, and had turned to face him. They also had bows, as seemed to have every damn Roman horseman, and started firing. As Theuderic rushed trying to close the distance between them, some of his men began to fall, dead.
Damn it! “Come on ladies! Charge!” he roared, as loud as he could. With the Franks closing in, the Romans stopped their fire and started to charge at him as well, lowering their spears.He continued to lead the charge, sword in hand
. Idiots, what’s the jewelry on your animals going to do against a Frank with balls?
The shock of both forces charging at each other was abrupt and tremendous. Many of the horsemen on both sides flew far ahead of their animals. He hacked at the first of the Romans that came towards him, before the enemy could even react, killing him right away. But then the second rushed forward, running his own armored horse into his and impaling Theuderic’s left thigh with his spear in the process. Shortly after, the king’s own horse was on the ground, dead, while he was trying to get up. The Roman that charged at him had continued on, unsheathing a sword. All around him his men had engaged the armored cavalry, some of them with results similar to his. “Shit!” he screamed as he pulled the spear off and struggled to his feet. But to no avail; his left leg was a holed mess, which now overpowered the pain from his back. He fell to the ground, resting his head on his still warm horse.
“To the king!” he heard in the distance in Frankish. He saw that some of the men that had charged with him were trying to rally around him. He tried to sit up, but could not; he just could not hold himself up and once again fell beside his dead horse. He tried to look around him. The arrows from the Roman riders continued to rain down. Their armored cavalry had regrouped for a second charge and had begun to bring down some of the men coming to him. He couldn’t see Theodosius.
Hopefully the bastard is dead, Theuderic thought to himself.
What in the world had just happened? His men could perhaps still win the battle with him dead. But what for? The thought made him smile. He had personally led charges all over the Frankish kingdoms during his wars with Theudebert and Clothar. His example had only emboldened the men behind him.
God helps those who help themselves. He began to feel numb. It was harder to breathe, and he tasted blood with the back of his tongue after every breath. The grass by his left leg was red all over. The balminess of the sun was less and less warm. The shouts of his men and the Romans began to fade. Even the characteristic odors of combat; the smell of shit, urine, and blood, were becoming milder. He closed his eyes for a moment.
Fuck, of all the places to die it had to be Italy. Abruptly, a shade obscured the sun shining on his face. He opened and focused his eyes. “And who the fuck are you?” he babbled in Latin.
“Heraclius, a soldier of the rightful Emperor Theodosius” answered the bearded man, still on his horse. “Your force is beaten Theuderic, surrender.”
“Fuck you, and your rightful Emperor.” Uttering those words had taken a superhuman effort. And now he felt his mouth filling with blood.
“Very well then, as you please…” answered the Roman. The soldier next to him dismounted, carrying his sword, and without saying a word plunged it into the Frank’s chest. He felt no pain, only the coldness of the steel inside him.
Pater noster qui es …
Theuderic II of Burgundy was dead.
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[1] Clothar II, King of Neustria (584-613) and king of all Franks (613-629.)
[2] Theudebert II, King of Austrasia (595-612.) IOTL Theuderic defeated him in 612 and annexed Austrasia to his own kingdom in 612.