Cato's Cavalry
- Thread starter Cymraeg
- Start date
As Cato walked his horse through the main gates of Deva he could see some men working on a rooftop to his right. From the look of them they seemed to be Gauls and they were handing red tiles over to one of the locals. He looked again and then smiled slightly. It had been a while since he’d seen actual Gaullish tiles used in a repair job. Perhaps it was a good sign. Then again perhaps it was a sign that some damn fool had been throwing his money away.
He shrugged to himself and then led Mars on through the streets. He always rode his horse in the morning when he wasn’t anywhere on official business. He liked the fact that he could lose himself for a little while, just an hour or so. But then that was an hour spent without thinking – or rather worrying – about the paperwork that was bound to be piling up on his desk.
This provoked a snort from him. He had a desk now. There had been a time when he would have left all the bureaucratic crap to his commanding officer. However, he was now a commanding officer himself and so far he wasn’t enjoying himself very much.
Turning a corner he caught sight of the hulking shape of the massive Legionary fortress ahead of him. That had changed a bit too, as the general air of slow decay that had been all too pervasive had been replaced with activity and bustle.
He smiled. The sun was shining and despite the prospect of paperwork he didn’t care. He had a wife and son waiting for him and next to that nothing else in the world really mattered.
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The blasted sun was in his eyes. Aurelianus glanced up irritably from the reconnaissance report he was reading and then turned slightly so that he didn’t have to squint quite so much. Given the fact that Summer had arrived with a vengeance he probably should have been wearing his straw hat. Unfortunately he couldn’t find the damn thing, which was annoying.
Hearing voices he looked up. Poplicala was walking into the courtyard with a young officer who was starting to look like something of a real soldier. Aurelianus smiled quietly. Yes, young Marcus was coming on very well indeed. His wife would have been so very proud of their son.
“Greetings to both of you,” he called out. “And what brings you here on this fine and sunny day?”
“News from the West,” Poplicala said with a faint smile. “Apparently the Hibernii are busy fighting amongst themselves now. Raiding our shores proved to be too… expensive for their tastes.”
Aurelianus pulled a face. “They’ll be back. They’re like the Sea Wolves – the moment they sense weakness they’ll swarm over the sea again. Still… if they’re fighting amongst themselves that can give us some time to prepare for their next incursions.”
Aurelianus the Younger smiled slightly. “I hear that the new flotilla is coming along well.”
His father shrugged slightly. “It’s not much of a flotilla, but it’s better than nothing – and it’s far more organised than anything the Hibernii can come up with at the moment. Still, you’re right. It is coming along well. I hear that Gratianus is doing well organising a similar force East of Eboracum.”
“He’s changed,” Poplicala rumbled shrewdly. “He’s taking his duties on the Wall very seriously these days, and not ranting about the need to go to Gaul and do stupid things. It might be that getting him roaring drunk and sending him on that ship to the North was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
This provoked a grin from Aurelianus and he leant back in his old Curule chair. “Oh, the wine that cost me! The very best wine I could get my hands on. Still, it was worth it as you say.”
“What news from the South?” Poplicala was serious now and his son also looked concerned.
“Not a lot. We know that Vitalis is still mining that accursed silver and that he’s spreading it mighty wide in some places. The Silures are certainly taking his money. The question is if that money will also buy their loyalty. They’re a cunning lot down there. I wouldn’t put it past them to smile in his face and then knee him in the groin if he asks the wrong thing of them.”
Poplicala nodded at this, whilst his son frowned slightly as he absorbed this piece of information about an area and a people that he had never seen – yet.
“No,” said Aurelianus as he stroked his chin slowly. “Vitalis is thinking over the long term. Don’t get me wrong, if he had a chance of seizing power at the moment he’d take it. But he’s got his eyes further down the road than most people. I think that he’s thinking about his son and his chances of success.
“Vitalis is reaching out to the tribes because he thinks that that’s where the power will be in the future, if Rome continues to decline the way that it has been. And he has a point. At the moment Rome is most concerned about its immediate survival. Stilicho is doing his best to prop up the Empire, but I don’t think that he has his own eyes much further ahead than that – survival. If that means that he has to cut us lose to fend for ourselves then that’s what he’ll do. After the way that Magnus Maximus drained Britannia, who’d blame him?”
Aurelianus looked around the courtyard bitterly. “That bloody man,” he muttered as he thought about the waste of men and material that had occurred twenty years before. Then he shook himself and looked back at the two others and smiled slightly.
“We have to watch Vitalis and build up a power base to counter his. Marching against him would just weaken us – we can’t afford to fight amongst ourselves, we have to stay together! So we wait – and we build and we undermine.”
“Undermine?” Poplicala asked with a frown.
Aurelianus grinned boyishly at him and then reached under the reports on the desk to the coin that he had been looking at earlier. “Here’” he said, flicking it through the air at him. “A present from the Ordovices.”
Catching it Poplicala looked down – and then gaped. “A solidus?”
“Gold from the Ordovices. Just a taste. But there will be more. Vitalis has his silver, but we will have gold.”
He shrugged to himself and then led Mars on through the streets. He always rode his horse in the morning when he wasn’t anywhere on official business. He liked the fact that he could lose himself for a little while, just an hour or so. But then that was an hour spent without thinking – or rather worrying – about the paperwork that was bound to be piling up on his desk.
This provoked a snort from him. He had a desk now. There had been a time when he would have left all the bureaucratic crap to his commanding officer. However, he was now a commanding officer himself and so far he wasn’t enjoying himself very much.
Turning a corner he caught sight of the hulking shape of the massive Legionary fortress ahead of him. That had changed a bit too, as the general air of slow decay that had been all too pervasive had been replaced with activity and bustle.
He smiled. The sun was shining and despite the prospect of paperwork he didn’t care. He had a wife and son waiting for him and next to that nothing else in the world really mattered.
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The blasted sun was in his eyes. Aurelianus glanced up irritably from the reconnaissance report he was reading and then turned slightly so that he didn’t have to squint quite so much. Given the fact that Summer had arrived with a vengeance he probably should have been wearing his straw hat. Unfortunately he couldn’t find the damn thing, which was annoying.
Hearing voices he looked up. Poplicala was walking into the courtyard with a young officer who was starting to look like something of a real soldier. Aurelianus smiled quietly. Yes, young Marcus was coming on very well indeed. His wife would have been so very proud of their son.
“Greetings to both of you,” he called out. “And what brings you here on this fine and sunny day?”
“News from the West,” Poplicala said with a faint smile. “Apparently the Hibernii are busy fighting amongst themselves now. Raiding our shores proved to be too… expensive for their tastes.”
Aurelianus pulled a face. “They’ll be back. They’re like the Sea Wolves – the moment they sense weakness they’ll swarm over the sea again. Still… if they’re fighting amongst themselves that can give us some time to prepare for their next incursions.”
Aurelianus the Younger smiled slightly. “I hear that the new flotilla is coming along well.”
His father shrugged slightly. “It’s not much of a flotilla, but it’s better than nothing – and it’s far more organised than anything the Hibernii can come up with at the moment. Still, you’re right. It is coming along well. I hear that Gratianus is doing well organising a similar force East of Eboracum.”
“He’s changed,” Poplicala rumbled shrewdly. “He’s taking his duties on the Wall very seriously these days, and not ranting about the need to go to Gaul and do stupid things. It might be that getting him roaring drunk and sending him on that ship to the North was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
This provoked a grin from Aurelianus and he leant back in his old Curule chair. “Oh, the wine that cost me! The very best wine I could get my hands on. Still, it was worth it as you say.”
“What news from the South?” Poplicala was serious now and his son also looked concerned.
“Not a lot. We know that Vitalis is still mining that accursed silver and that he’s spreading it mighty wide in some places. The Silures are certainly taking his money. The question is if that money will also buy their loyalty. They’re a cunning lot down there. I wouldn’t put it past them to smile in his face and then knee him in the groin if he asks the wrong thing of them.”
Poplicala nodded at this, whilst his son frowned slightly as he absorbed this piece of information about an area and a people that he had never seen – yet.
“No,” said Aurelianus as he stroked his chin slowly. “Vitalis is thinking over the long term. Don’t get me wrong, if he had a chance of seizing power at the moment he’d take it. But he’s got his eyes further down the road than most people. I think that he’s thinking about his son and his chances of success.
“Vitalis is reaching out to the tribes because he thinks that that’s where the power will be in the future, if Rome continues to decline the way that it has been. And he has a point. At the moment Rome is most concerned about its immediate survival. Stilicho is doing his best to prop up the Empire, but I don’t think that he has his own eyes much further ahead than that – survival. If that means that he has to cut us lose to fend for ourselves then that’s what he’ll do. After the way that Magnus Maximus drained Britannia, who’d blame him?”
Aurelianus looked around the courtyard bitterly. “That bloody man,” he muttered as he thought about the waste of men and material that had occurred twenty years before. Then he shook himself and looked back at the two others and smiled slightly.
“We have to watch Vitalis and build up a power base to counter his. Marching against him would just weaken us – we can’t afford to fight amongst ourselves, we have to stay together! So we wait – and we build and we undermine.”
“Undermine?” Poplicala asked with a frown.
Aurelianus grinned boyishly at him and then reached under the reports on the desk to the coin that he had been looking at earlier. “Here’” he said, flicking it through the air at him. “A present from the Ordovices.”
Catching it Poplicala looked down – and then gaped. “A solidus?”
“Gold from the Ordovices. Just a taste. But there will be more. Vitalis has his silver, but we will have gold.”
forget
Banned
The Ordovices a Saxon Tribe situated in Central Wales.
I looked it up on Wiki and apparently tribe numbers were severely diminished form fighting with the romans in around 70 AD.
It is interesting to see the tribe making a come back, on the side of the Roman Britons after all you would think the Ordovices would have a few chips on there shoulders. From apparently nearly being wiped out in there little war of independence against the Romans a few hundred years ago.
Then again times do change.
Looking at the map of tribes in Wales existing at the time the gold in Wales is perhaps closer to the Demetae tribe.
Glad to see this updated I really am.
I looked it up on Wiki and apparently tribe numbers were severely diminished form fighting with the romans in around 70 AD.
It is interesting to see the tribe making a come back, on the side of the Roman Britons after all you would think the Ordovices would have a few chips on there shoulders. From apparently nearly being wiped out in there little war of independence against the Romans a few hundred years ago.
Then again times do change.
Looking at the map of tribes in Wales existing at the time the gold in Wales is perhaps closer to the Demetae tribe.
Glad to see this updated I really am.
Yes, one thing I wish we knew more about was how many Germanic people were in Great Britain before Roman power collapsed. I expect there were a fair number given how their language ended up predominating there but not in other areas that were conquered by Germanic peoples.
Erm, I'm not sure where you got the idea that the Ordovices were Saxons. As far as I know they were Celtic - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ordovices.
I wonder if someone could pay/convince Stilcho to "redeploy" Vitalis. A man of his talents would be of use on the frontier
HUZZAH! What a great update! I can't wait to see the stapeda equipped cavalry in action again! <Hint! Hint!> ;-)
Hero of Canton
Hero of Canton
The problem with being an honourable man, thought Stilicho bitterly, was that other people frequently tried to take advantage of you. He was doing everything in his power to try to save the Western Roman Empire from the tidal wave of barbarians, cowards and idiots that seemed to be both outside and inside it and still he was facing idiots who not just doubted him but who were also trying to bribe him as a result.
There were times that he despaired. And then again there were times when he would shrug his shoulders and just get on with it, the way that he had so many times before. Today was one of the latter days. He had a lot to do and he was starting to suspect that his time was getting a little shorter than he might have liked. Whilst he had complete control over the Emperor Honorius, he could not control what the Emperor thought.
And the Emperor was no longer a child. He was a man and he was starting to push at the boundaries of his power. Especially as there were some around him who were encouraging him to do so. He shouldn’t have been surprised – Honorius was, after all, the son of Theodosius the Great.
Stilicho tapped a long finger against the surface of his desk and then sighed. The border on the Rhenus was under threat again. A group of Alemanni were pushing South towards it, fleeing from the chaos in Magna Germania. He didn’t want to think about Magna Germania, the place looked to be a disaster in the making. However, as long as most of the barbarians there were heading North and East he didn’t care.
There was something else that was worrying him though. Apparently, according to the reports from Constantinople and from his spies on the other side of the Danubius, the Huns were on the move again.
More chaos.
There were times that he despaired. And then again there were times when he would shrug his shoulders and just get on with it, the way that he had so many times before. Today was one of the latter days. He had a lot to do and he was starting to suspect that his time was getting a little shorter than he might have liked. Whilst he had complete control over the Emperor Honorius, he could not control what the Emperor thought.
And the Emperor was no longer a child. He was a man and he was starting to push at the boundaries of his power. Especially as there were some around him who were encouraging him to do so. He shouldn’t have been surprised – Honorius was, after all, the son of Theodosius the Great.
Stilicho tapped a long finger against the surface of his desk and then sighed. The border on the Rhenus was under threat again. A group of Alemanni were pushing South towards it, fleeing from the chaos in Magna Germania. He didn’t want to think about Magna Germania, the place looked to be a disaster in the making. However, as long as most of the barbarians there were heading North and East he didn’t care.
There was something else that was worrying him though. Apparently, according to the reports from Constantinople and from his spies on the other side of the Danubius, the Huns were on the move again.
More chaos.
forget
Banned
At least Stilicho is not facing an immediate barbarian incursion as he did in OLT 408 AD from the Goths, thanks to the lucky win against the barbarian throwing them back across the Rhine.
Things could be worse.
Now if Stilicho can access the 4000 pounds of gold from the Roman senate paid to the Goths as he did in OLT, he may just have a chance at saving the Western Roman Empire.
Thanks doubly so for the extra update Cymraeg.
Things could be worse.
Now if Stilicho can access the 4000 pounds of gold from the Roman senate paid to the Goths as he did in OLT, he may just have a chance at saving the Western Roman Empire.
Thanks doubly so for the extra update Cymraeg.
Stilicho the Great Rant
If only Stilicho could dispense with this charade of ruling thru Honorius the Unready!!! I just can't understand why the wealthy aristocracy of Roman Empire after seeing the Empire brought to its height by Spanish Provincial Emperors in the 2nd Century, saved from extinction by Illyrian Provincial Emperors in the 3rd Century would suddenly pick this dire time to become obsessed with racial purity so as to deny ethnically German but culturally Roman leaders, STILICHO to be exact, the highest office and force them to rule from behind a screen. Maybe in an ATL like this the Empire embraces this new infusion of Germanic vigor and instead of antagonists we see the likes of Emperor Stilicho, Emperor Aetius, and eventually Roman Emperor/King of the Goths Theodosius son of Galla Placidia and Atalf. A line of German Emperors that "Revived the Roman name".
Hero of Canton
If only Stilicho could dispense with this charade of ruling thru Honorius the Unready!!! I just can't understand why the wealthy aristocracy of Roman Empire after seeing the Empire brought to its height by Spanish Provincial Emperors in the 2nd Century, saved from extinction by Illyrian Provincial Emperors in the 3rd Century would suddenly pick this dire time to become obsessed with racial purity so as to deny ethnically German but culturally Roman leaders, STILICHO to be exact, the highest office and force them to rule from behind a screen. Maybe in an ATL like this the Empire embraces this new infusion of Germanic vigor and instead of antagonists we see the likes of Emperor Stilicho, Emperor Aetius, and eventually Roman Emperor/King of the Goths Theodosius son of Galla Placidia and Atalf. A line of German Emperors that "Revived the Roman name".
Hero of Canton
Ulfgar was still polishing the nicks out of his sword when Hengwulf returned. The older man was still limping slightly and looked tired and drawn, but he still remembered to nod respectfully at the head of the motley warband before he finally sank down to the ground by the fire.
Pausing for a moment Ulfgar looked at Hengwulf and then sighed. “How many?”
“Two score. That’s dead and those wounded so badly that they’ll die tonight or tomorrow.”
The younger man clenched his fist around his sharpening stone for a long moment and then went back to eliminating those nicks. “That bad then. Any more?”
Hengwulf shrugged. “There are some who are wounded and weak. The Thunder God will help those who are strong. Maybe a fistful might die. Maybe a fistful might live. I can’t say.”
A grim silence fell, broken only by the thin noise of the sword being sharpened. “At least we drove them off,” Hengwulf said eventually.
This bought him a bitter laugh. “Yes, we drove them off! What were they again, a rabble of southerners? Franks, Suebi and a few Vandals. Scum to a man. But they’ll be back. They’ll always be back. They keep coming, like waves on the beach. And every time they come we end up weaker and weaker. We lost two score today. We lost three score last month. We’re being ground down, Hengwulf. Ground down like a sandstone on a beach.”
The next silence was longer and grimmer. “I know,” Hengwulf said eventually, surprising the younger man. “A message came in. You remember Rulf?”
Ulfgar paused for a moment. “Tall man, big teeth. Has five keels. Very bad at playing Stones.”
“Well, he’ll never play Stones again. Too dead.”
“I suspected as much. I sent word to him about today. He said he’d come if he could. When I didn’t see him I realised that he couldn’t make it.”
He went back to polishing his sword again. The last of the nicks on the blade were going now and he scowled at it. It had been his father’s sword. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to fight with. “Do we know how Rulf died?”
“His village was overrun. Franks.”
Ulfgar stared into the crackling flames of the fire. More bloody Franks. “We should leave,” he said eventually.
“Where to?” Hengwulf asked, anguish on his face. “South is forbidden to us. East would be madness. To the North lie our cousins, who don’t want us and to the West those fat farmers have discovered how to fight. Where would we go to?”
“West,” Ulfgar growled. “Yes, they’ve learnt how to fight again, but I think that only a few know how to. If we go there in enough numbers then we can swarm those fancy horsemen of theirs down. Let’s see them break a shield wall when they’ve got throwing axes whistling around their heads.”
This bought him a dubious look from Hengwulf, followed by a slow frown and a reluctant nod. “We’d need a lot more keels than we have at the moment.”
“We’ll start sending word in the morning. As many villages and towns as you can. We need axes and we need as many keels as we can get hold of. Because if we stay here then we all die otherwise. We might die in the West as well, but if I have to die it’ll be on my feet spitting defiance in the eye of the Crone herself. And killing fat farmers at the same time.” He snorted. “One of us is worth ten of them anyway.”
Pausing for a moment Ulfgar looked at Hengwulf and then sighed. “How many?”
“Two score. That’s dead and those wounded so badly that they’ll die tonight or tomorrow.”
The younger man clenched his fist around his sharpening stone for a long moment and then went back to eliminating those nicks. “That bad then. Any more?”
Hengwulf shrugged. “There are some who are wounded and weak. The Thunder God will help those who are strong. Maybe a fistful might die. Maybe a fistful might live. I can’t say.”
A grim silence fell, broken only by the thin noise of the sword being sharpened. “At least we drove them off,” Hengwulf said eventually.
This bought him a bitter laugh. “Yes, we drove them off! What were they again, a rabble of southerners? Franks, Suebi and a few Vandals. Scum to a man. But they’ll be back. They’ll always be back. They keep coming, like waves on the beach. And every time they come we end up weaker and weaker. We lost two score today. We lost three score last month. We’re being ground down, Hengwulf. Ground down like a sandstone on a beach.”
The next silence was longer and grimmer. “I know,” Hengwulf said eventually, surprising the younger man. “A message came in. You remember Rulf?”
Ulfgar paused for a moment. “Tall man, big teeth. Has five keels. Very bad at playing Stones.”
“Well, he’ll never play Stones again. Too dead.”
“I suspected as much. I sent word to him about today. He said he’d come if he could. When I didn’t see him I realised that he couldn’t make it.”
He went back to polishing his sword again. The last of the nicks on the blade were going now and he scowled at it. It had been his father’s sword. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to fight with. “Do we know how Rulf died?”
“His village was overrun. Franks.”
Ulfgar stared into the crackling flames of the fire. More bloody Franks. “We should leave,” he said eventually.
“Where to?” Hengwulf asked, anguish on his face. “South is forbidden to us. East would be madness. To the North lie our cousins, who don’t want us and to the West those fat farmers have discovered how to fight. Where would we go to?”
“West,” Ulfgar growled. “Yes, they’ve learnt how to fight again, but I think that only a few know how to. If we go there in enough numbers then we can swarm those fancy horsemen of theirs down. Let’s see them break a shield wall when they’ve got throwing axes whistling around their heads.”
This bought him a dubious look from Hengwulf, followed by a slow frown and a reluctant nod. “We’d need a lot more keels than we have at the moment.”
“We’ll start sending word in the morning. As many villages and towns as you can. We need axes and we need as many keels as we can get hold of. Because if we stay here then we all die otherwise. We might die in the West as well, but if I have to die it’ll be on my feet spitting defiance in the eye of the Crone herself. And killing fat farmers at the same time.” He snorted. “One of us is worth ten of them anyway.”
Excellent.
I hope the Vikings(?), Saxons more likely, make it over without too much bloodshed, an ATL where the french can't complain about anglosaxon perfidy just feels wrong if it's centered on the tiny island of raining wetness and tea.
Oh, I have plans for the Angles. And the Saxons. Plus the Jutes too. Sadly the French will have to find a different phrase to complain about the British.
Oh yes! Better than blotter acid.An update on this TL every week would be amazing, an update almost every day would blow my mind with awesomeness.