The Mauricians: A Medieval Roman novel

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Chapter 2-I- Theodosius
For a better audio-visual experience while reading the first half of this update I suggest you play this in the background:

http://youtu.be/WhP654dN3Ww
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Chapter 2 -I-
Inveni David, Servum Meum…

The final chant of the funeral mass echoed through the nave and the down the aisles of Saint Peter’s Basilica. The Emperor Theodosius, his magister militum Heraclius, the Exarch of Ravenna Callinicus, and the patrician Procopius were on the first row.

oleo sancto meo unxi eum

A few feet in front of them, below the mosaic of Christ enthroned, stood the golden cross of Justin. At the foot of the cross lay a lavish casket; in it was the body of the soon to be Saint Gregory.

Manus enim mea auxiliabitur ei

With the death of Pope Gregory Theodosius had lost a most valuable ally. Ever since his arrival to Italy two years before, with the exception of Procopius that is, no one had looked after his, and thus imperial, interests so faithfully. Maybe the Pope had hoped to influence heavily the mind of the future emperor, for his own benefit. Perhaps he wanted to be in a better standing with Maurice. Possibly, it was that Theodosius had wholeheartedly supported the Pope’s innovative reforms. But maybe, just maybe he had been just happy to see some gold.

et brachium meum confortabit eum

While Theodosius had traveled to Carthage, and at the time of Phocas’ rebellion, Gregory had personally looked after Tiberius, and the Pope’s loyalty had been crucial in ensuring Italy’s allegiance and the precarious neutrality of the barbarian west. He had even helped broker the peace between him and Agiluf (surprisingly the Lombard king was a Catholic,) which had led to the consolidation of the imperial recovery of southern Italy.

Nihil proficiet inimicus in eo

Theodosius continued to ponder his options. The defeat of his force at Dyrrachium the year before had been a severe setback. In fact, he had pinned all of his hopes on it. Twelve thousand men from Africa and Italy, along with the auxiliary Lombard and Berber troops had been miserably lost. He had no hope of assembling a comparable force for years. It was a miracle that the hastily combined naval force had been able to stop Phocas’ own navy in spite of it being scattered by a storm. Actually, Gregory had helped then too; by offering a thanksgiving mass after the victory. In his last days, sensing death on him, the Pope had done the last thing he could have, to aid Theodosius’ cause: he excommunicate Phocas, and absolved all of those who rose in revolt against him. Theodosius still thought it to be a final, vindictive farewell from the Pope; Phocas had refused to chastise the Patriarch of Constantinople, Cyriacus, for assuming the title of oikoumenos, and had failed to attribute it to Rome instead. The Pope had been a loyal friend indeed. Gregory please intercede before God for me.

et filius iniquitatis non apponet nocere ei.

The mass ended. Following the procession of church officials, Gregory’s casket began to be carried towards the catacomb in which a marble sarcophagus awaited at the end of one of the aisles, well past the altar’s Solomonic columns. Quietly, Theodosius followed with his retinue. In an hour it was over. The emperor exited the church, and the throngs that had assembled outside of it were already dispersing. Procopius approached him, uttering in a soft tone “Domine, I understand that you are still grieving Gregory. We all are, but Heraclius must confer with you at the palace.” Theodosius directed a glance at the magister. He assented. “Very well then let’s go.”
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Whenever he stopped at Rome the urban prefect’s palace had become Theodosius’ unofficial residence. After they had arrived from the church and settled down in one of the ample rooms, with a balcony view of the old forum, the four men gathered around on resting couches to hear Heraclius’ points.

“Imperator, although the entire Christian world grieves for the loss of our Pope, the war against Phocas continues. He has not moved against us in almost a year, and word has reached us that Chosroes has almost succeeding in seizing Mesopotamia, after Narses’ failed revolt in your favor. With the death of Narses we have lost an important potential supporter, but the tyrant is also running out of men; his newest general Leontius has been defeated, and Germanus is dead. My father, however, proposes a new plan, ready for your Excellency’s approval.” The magister proceeded to unroll on the center table the parchment that he held in his hand. It was a map.

Silence followed in the room. “Well?” Theodosius asked.

“He proposed a deal with Witteric, the new king of the Visigoths. In exchange for troops he suggests we yield Carthago Spartaria and the rest of Spania.” Heraclius was visibly shaken at this point, while everyone turned eyes to Theodosius. “Go on” was all he said, his eyes still fixed on the map.

“In combination with whatever other troops we can manage we should launch a two pronged assault. An overland force supported by a small fleet should advance towards Egypt from Carthage. The threat of losing the province should incite popular revolts in the capital. A second force should then head to Crete, and secure it as a base of operations against Constantinople. We expect that Phocas efforts will be concentrated on the East, Syria perhaps, now exposed by the loss of Mesopotamia.”

“How many men are we asking the Visigoths for?” inquired Callinicus.

“Well, in exchange for the whole province we can ask for no less than twenty thousand.”

“Ha! That’s impossible, even if they had that many they would prefer to throw them against our cities there rather than send them to the other end of the world on our behalf!” retorted the exarch. Ever since Heraclius had been created magister militum, Callinicus had been annoyed. He felt that there was an overlapping of their military functions in Italy. What for?

“Heraclius, what if we don’t get that many troops from the Visigoths? How many could we muster on our own?” Theodosius asked, finally looking up.

“Levying the Italians, and exhausting all the African garrisons perhaps, ten thousand, but it would expose us to the Lombards and the Berbers, and if they wish so, they could easily destroy our existing bases” responded the magister.

Theodosius got up from the couch, and started for the balcony, taking slow, long steps. “Spania is as good as lost. We can give it to the Visigoths and pull the troops stationed there, giving us an additional couple of thousand men. But I would like to keep Spartaria, for the future. I don’t expect them to give us over ten thousand auxiliaries, thus we must plan with those figures. I will go see Agiluf myself and perhaps we can ask him for some troops as well; after all the Lombards lost at Dyrrachium were mostly captives from Beneventum and Spoletium.”

“Domine, the Lombard king will want Ravenna in exchange for that kind of help” Callinicus objected.

“We’ll just have to find a way around that, maybe for a more modest contribution on his part” interjected Procopius. A few more moments of silence followed.

I have to win this war: for my father, my mother, Tiberius, Anastasia, and now that Irene is expecting

“Heraclius, tell your father to begin assembling the maximum amount of troops he can spare without endangering the border towns. Carthage itself can have its garrison cut down; for now the sea is ours. Callinicus, I want you to do the same. Naples and Tarentum can be emptied, concentrate the remaining men in Spoletium, Beneventum, Capua and Rome. Ravenna and Perugia are to remain as they are, and I want you to arrange for a personal meeting with Agiluf.”

Both of the addressed men replied with their consents, when suddenly a hurried knock was heard on the heavy oak door, and as it creaked open, in came the Emperor’s friend, John the excubitor, gasping for breath.

“What’s the matter with you?” bawled Callinicus.

“Kyr…Kyrie…Theo…Theodosius…Agiluf has sent…urgent messages. He requests…”A sudden cough kept him from completing the sentence. All of those present ran to him, Theodosius helping him sit down on the floor, “what did you say John?”

“Agiluf wan… wants to see you. Theu…Theuderic and his Franks are besieging Milan.”
 
I particularly like the "backing track", here. A very good update, once more- you're a very talented writer! :)

As I said earlier, I do like how you've portrayed Phocas as a human being with an actual agenda in life, rather than simply the devil incarnate as the surviving Heraclian propaganda likes to. Well done!
 
I particularly like the "backing track", here. A very good update, once more- you're a very talented writer! :)

As I said earlier, I do like how you've portrayed Phocas as a human being with an actual agenda in life, rather than simply the devil incarnate as the surviving Heraclian propaganda likes to. Well done!

Nicely done. Looks like the Empire is once again tearing itself apart with perfect efficiency.

Thanks guys, once again. And as I asked before; please don't refrain from constructive criticism once I mess up.
 
Chapter 2-II- Menander
Chapter 2 -II-

Doryphoros Menander gave one last look to the group of bucellarii that was with him. The night was clear, with a full moon; they probably would not have needed the torches. But precautions never hurt. He felt satisfied that their face denoted a serene confidence. He knew very well what could happen with men who lost their nerve.

The City had calmed down since the initial euphoria that had followed Phocas’ coronation and entrance. The spirit shown by the crowds then could still ring in his ears when they were shown the heads of Maurice and Constantine Lardys, to the shouts of “Tu vincas Phocas!” over and over.

Nonetheless, the fact that one of the deposed emperor’s children still lived caused some complications. And there were always opportunists who would take advantage of times of crisis, and it was because of that, that he had to carry out missions such as this. His troop turned onto a minor street off of the Makros Embolos, towards the Perama quarter, and came upon one of the one of the most affluent areas of The City. Of course. With him at the front, the troop of thirty men marched towards the front of the home in an orderly fashion. Before the two guards at the gates could react, the bucellarii’s swords were pointing at them. Realizing the futility of a fight, they laid down their spears and shields. Not a word was said; by the pale moonlight and the oscillating torchlight, Menander could distinguish their confusion.

He gestured to one of the men behind him, and the soldier approach him with a pot with dirt in it. The men were set; four waiting at each corner, and six more had already entered the side gardens. “Now!” ordered the leader while the men with him busted the main door open. From inside the house came the shouts of women, perhaps three or more, following the hard footsteps of his men. Noises of convulsion, something shattering, perhaps an antique. What a shame.

A heavy set man dashed in from the hallway. “My master is not home!” he exclaimed while trying to block the access. The doryphoros had no patience for him, let alone believe him. With a strong push he shoved the man aside and continued running in, followed by five of his men. Once he made it to the inner courtyard they spread out opening each door that they found.

“Doryphore!” he heard one of the men calling.

He left the darkened room he was in, headed to where the shout came from. In it a man was struggling with his soldier while a little further ahead, in the fireplace there was smoke and a small flame that had just started. Why do they ever think they can get away? He ran past the two of them and dumped the dirt on top of the nascent flames. By then more of his men had entered the chamber and had the man subdued. Menander approached him and punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him; his will to fight evaporated.

Once he had calmed, the men pulled a chair out and sat him down, still restraining him. Menander observed the surroundings, browsing through the books there present.

“You have quite an impressive collection of military history general” he told him after a few minutes.

“Fuck you, Greek motherfucker!” answered the strategos John, the so-called Mystacon, in Latin. “This is an outrage and you know it!”

Menander exhaled, loudly, while he put back a volume, also in Latin, of Julius Caesar’s Gallic wars. Let us dance then, he thought to himself. He went to the fireplace and began to pull out whatever parchments remained of the fire, and to spread them out. It was enough.

“You are absolutely right my Stratege, this tyrant will lead us to perdition…” he read in a loud voice, switching the conversation back to Greek again, “…make contact with the exarchs and Theodosius himself…” He paused for a moment. “I don’t know, sir from what I can tell there are too many compromising things here...”

“It doesn’t prove anything!” protested the Mystacon, defiant.

The doryphoros exhaled heavily again, and walked up to the balcony. He then walked back in and pulled out one of the sitting couches there present and placed it closer to the strategos. He rested his elbows on his knees and crossed his fingers in front of his face. “I don’t understand stratege. You were a man loyal to the empire, the senate, and the people. Thrace, Persia, Blarathon.”

“Right, and while I was out there exposing my life, you were surely playing turncoat, plotting against your Emperor and terrorizing innocent civilians.”

The soldier opened his hands and pointed to the wall, where there was fastened a long Avar sword, following which he pulled his left sleeve up, to expose a long, thick scar. The strategos looked on, and kept quiet. He knew what that meant. Menander was no stranger to carrying the empire’s banners to distant lands.

He got up again. “We have witnesses that have sworn on God and his holy Mother that you were planning to betray the empire…”

The strategos recovered some of his vigor. “I will not allow you to say that! There is nothing more patriotic than to fight for the one and true Emperor and to cast that mad tyrant from power!”

Menander walked back towards the strategos and slapped him hard. The men kept John restrained. “Please have the appropriate manners when talking about our Emperor. After all he has brought us victory after victory; did he not free us from the real tyrant Maurice, who ignored the men and starved the people?”

Mystacon could not contain a laugh. “Victory? Don’t tell me that you believe the nonsense that they have been announcing during the races.” He stopped to spit some blood. “We did not land in Italy, and the army of the north was annihilated by the Avars. And the Persians have overrun Mesopotamia, and already have their sights set on the rest of Anatolia.”

Another slap. “Stratege, that is called defeatism and to spread lies. As it were, that should be reason enough to take you to a dungeon. But insurrection…” Menander paused letting him know what would come.

“No...”

“I am sorry stratege but that is the way it is. But it wouldn’t be good for the morale of the men that one of the best of their leaders in the Persian wars was tried and beheaded publically. It wouldn’t be proper.” Mystacon breathed out, relieved. What a shame. “That is why my commander Alexander is giving you an option to save your honor” he added as he placed a small glass vial with a dark liquid on the small table, within the reach of the strategos.

Mystacon went pale again. “This can’t be happening…”

“We are not evil men stratege. We will announce that you died from wounds received during combat against the Avars. You will be buried with full honors. You can even say goodbye to your wife.” He pointed to another man, who left the room immediately.

“I will not do it. Fuck you” said John.

“Think it over stratege. Your son is in the detachment guarding Antioch. Thanks to the Persians it is now a dangerous place and it would be a tragedy if something happened to him. Aside from losing all of your goods, your wife would be devastated from losing you both. Look at her.” Brought into the room by one of the men, she broke down into tears on seeing her husband. Menander waved his hand again and the men restraining the general allowed him to hug her.

The rest would only require a little patience. He knew that the strategos was a rational man and that he would try to minimize his loses. The soldiers made sure that there wasn’t anything in the room that he could use as a weapon, and took some steps back to give them some privacy. After some passionate kisses and some tears, they both nodded with their heads. Menander and the men came closer.

The light from the torch held by one of the soldiers cast strange shadows on the walls. The strategos had the vial in his hand and was hugging his wife with the other arm. “Theodosius tu vincas, death to the tyrant” he said after he finished drinking it. A few seconds later blood gushed from his throat splattering everywhere as the body fell to the floor with a loud thud.

“Why?” screamed the inconsolable woman, “he had already drunk the poison!”

“Those who commit suicide don’t go to the Lord’s grace upon death, madam. You should thank me, I just saved his soul” Menander rebuked her as he tried to wipe the blood off of his dagger. Theotoke Parthene, now please save mine.
 
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This poor TL is flying back and forth between sub-forums like there's no tomorrow! :p

I know! As I said a while back; I made the decision to have moved; but no sooner had we done it that some people had difficulty finding it, and I'd have PMs daily about "where'd it go?"

So we're back where we started...hopefully not messing anyone up again.
 
Chapter 2-III- Theuderic
Chapter 2 -III-

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.
 
extraordinary writing.

Looks like we're in for a stalemate. Theodosius is now more secure than ever in Italy, as the Lombards are now probably too weak to think about challenging him. As a regional player though, he is weaker, since he needed those Lombards for offensive campaigns. Since he probably also scraped the bottom of the barrel in term of manpower, places like North Africa are now very vulnerable.

Phokas too is not better off either though, with both the Avars and Persians breathing down his neck, his fleet sunk and dissent at home growing. At least he managed to thin Theodosius' forces at virtually no cost to himself.

So basically both halfs of the Empire are strong enough to prevent being overtaken by the other unless some external forces critically weakens them or a succesfull coup takes places. Could we perhaps see a longer lasting division ? Or will the Constantinopolitan mob turn against Phokas once taxes start going up and news of defeats kep coming ?
 
extraordinary writing.

Looks like we're in for a stalemate. Theodosius is now more secure than ever in Italy, as the Lombards are now probably too weak to think about challenging him. As a regional player though, he is weaker, since he needed those Lombards for offensive campaigns. Since he probably also scraped the bottom of the barrel in term of manpower, places like North Africa are now very vulnerable.

Phokas too is not better off either though, with both the Avars and Persians breathing down his neck, his fleet sunk and dissent at home growing. At least he managed to thin Theodosius' forces at virtually no cost to himself.

So basically both halfs of the Empire are strong enough to prevent being overtaken by the other unless some external forces critically weakens them or a succesfull coup takes places. Could we perhaps see a longer lasting division ? Or will the Constantinopolitan mob turn against Phokas once taxes start going up and news of defeats kep coming ?

Theodosius has in fact secured the peninsula; he’s done away with the duchies in the south and has cemented his alliance with the Lombards by saving the their kingdom from annihilation by the Franks. Yet, in the long run his plans against Constantinople have only been but delayed (let’s remember the plan of Heraclius the Elder, calling in the Visigoths; we’ll have to see what they decide to do.) And yes whatever move he makes next he will have to scrape the bottom and use even the barrel itself, because if he fails he’s done for.


On the other hand we’ve seen how Phocas is trying to clean house by eradicating generals from the old guard: Narses, John Mystacon, etc. This could have consequences at some point. Also let’s not forget the whole reason why Maurice was cast out; and even though Phocas found the state coffers in a semi-decent state given his predecessor’s avarice, he’s been burning up the national treasure just to keep the car running.


Overall, if Theodosius chose to stay put he could count on having a secure Italy, the Western Mediterranean Islands, Africa, and whatever remains of Spain. Phocas aside, he has no other enemies. On the other hand the Emperor at Constantinople has had to deal not only with the West, but with the successful Sassanian incursions (IOTL the Persians made no great headways until the breakout of the civil war between Phocas and Heraclius; ITTL Phocas has barely had a chance to catch up since the civil war lit up right away,) and the Avars have been content with milking him for as much gold as they can get, but it remains to be seen how long that can last…:confused:


Thanks again for reading!!!
 
Theodosius has in fact secured the peninsula; he’s done away with the duchies in the south and has cemented his alliance with the Lombards by saving the their kingdom from annihilation by the Franks. Yet, in the long run his plans against Constantinople have only been but delayed (let’s remember the plan of Heraclius the Elder, calling in the Visigoths; we’ll have to see what they decide to do.) And yes whatever move he makes next he will have to scrape the bottom and use even the barrel itself, because if he fails he’s done for.


On the other hand we’ve seen how Phocas is trying to clean house by eradicating generals from the old guard: Narses, John Mystacon, etc. This could have consequences at some point. Also let’s not forget the whole reason why Maurice was cast out; and even though Phocas found the state coffers in a semi-decent state given his predecessor’s avarice, he’s been burning up the national treasure just to keep the car running.


Overall, if Theodosius chose to stay put he could count on having a secure Italy, the Western Mediterranean Islands, Africa, and whatever remains of Spain. Phocas aside, he has no other enemies. On the other hand the Emperor at Constantinople has had to deal not only with the West, but with the successful Sassanian incursions (IOTL the Persians made no great headways until the breakout of the civil war between Phocas and Heraclius; ITTL Phocas has barely had a chance to catch up since the civil war lit up right away,) and the Avars have been content with milking him for as much gold as they can get, but it remains to be seen how long that can last…:confused:


Thanks again for reading!!!


Didn't he already scrape the bottom of the barrel to defeat Theuderic ?

I imagine losses among the (mostly Lombard) infantry should be heavy (seeing as the Franks were slowly kicking their ass), and the cavalry, who had engaged Theuderic's best knights, should have suffered some heavy losses as well in the melee (with their enemies suffering way, way more though)

Italy at his point was a wreck. The Gothic War and the plague had thoroughly destroyed a lot of its infrastructure and economy. Just look at how Rome declined after the numerous sieges and sackings it went through or how the militarily inferior Lombards swept up so much of the place with little difficulty. Moreover, important cities in the north like Milan, Turin and pavia were probably sacked in the last update.

Bottom line is Italy is in no position to provide Theodosius with a profit, Spain is basically just a handful of expensive to maintain coastal outposts, the Balearics are as backwards as you can get, leaving him with only Corsica, Sardinia, Sicilly and Africa to milk for funds (and, btw, Africa also has to contend with the fact that the Berbers won't just idly sit by and watch if the place is left totally undefended for long).

Theodosius just lost an army across the Adriatic, has to maintain a fleet (expensive thing to do), and had his main army bloodied by Theuderic and is in no position to substantially increase his numbers. What is he going to use to defeat Phokas ? Have the Visigoths send their whole army to what is essentially to them the other end of the world just to get hold of a small coastal area they can get by themselves anyway ?
 
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