Hadrian's Consolidation - reboot

[Hecatee]

Syria, autumn 117 CE

As tired as Publius Aelius Hadrianus Buccellanus might be, he knows his day is far from over. He has just finished a tense meeting with his concilium, during which the fate of Lusius Quietus, the untrustworthy legate of Judea, has been sealed. With the orders sent earlier to Publius Acilius Attianus, the præfectus prætorio, Hadrianus is confident that his rule will not be challenged in the immediate future. This only leaves the question of what to do for the long term destiny of the imperium.

For now peace has been restored in the East. The Parthian have been severely beaten, their armies shattered, numerous cities taken and plundered, some like Edessa having been razed to their foundations. The Jewish revolts in Judea and in various other cities of the empire have also been crushed, with many of those blasphemous deniers of the gods killed by the legions or the regional authorities. Quietus, before his fall, raised a statue of Hadrianus on the ruins of the Jews’ temple of Hierosolyma.

But peace is always fragile. The conquest of Dacia is still fresh, and the land is dangerously exposed to the barbarian threat. And there are so many other areas at risk from a barbarian invasion... Britannia, of course, is still partly free. Germania, as always, is a threat. Plenty of parts of the Danubian border are wide open to raids or even outright invasion, as he well knows since he did recently survey them in the name of the late imperator Trajanus.

Augustus, be he blessed in his eternal glory, had said that the Empire’s borders were to be secured, conquest was to be shunned. Well, that had not been the vision of Trajanus, conqueror of Dacia and of Parthia… But would it be his policy ? He had already ordered a withdrawal from many part of the newly conquered territories, too insecure with their rear in full revolt. This has bought him time but also the enmity of many in the army. But should he do more ? Fortify what fronts he can, abandon what land he cannot hold ?

A cup of wine in his hand, the emperor loose himself in his thoughts before finally falling asleep from the wine and the exhaustion, but not without taking some decisions first…

 

[Hecatee]

@Xenophonte : thanks I'll do my best not to disappoint this time
@SlyDessertFox : I could not let you have the only currently updated nice ancient timeline, could I ? More seriously I've reread everything I wrote at the time, but as a non native english speaker I'm sure there is still a lot of things to improve...
@Kurt_Steiner : not very Roman, but I appreciate the feeling

And now, another chapter :

Oescus, Danubian border, autumn 117 CE

The praetorium is a huge wooden building first constructed to hosts the headquarter of Hadrian’s predecessor, Trajanus, during his second dacian war. All around it the bustle of the camp made for a lot of noise, but not in the building, its double walls insulating those inside from any outside interference. Here Publius Aelius Hadrianus had been a general amongst many, but he is now the absolute ruler of the Empire. He sits enthroned in all the imperial glory, the commanders of the Danubian armies seated around him. Many roads lay in front of him, and only he will make the decision on which one to take.

In front of the assembled generals, a large map of the empire stands up, small flags and colours showing the extent of the empire and its various forces with an estimation of their respective strengths. A huge concentration of force was still present in the east, leaving the Rhine dangerously under protected. In some places the borders were on river lines, as on the Rhine, but much too often they were not. Dacia was exposed to the Roxolani and to the Iazyges, even if they pretended to submit to the Emperor’s will, and there was a huge gap between the Rhine and Danube garrisons where barbarian pressure could splinter the imperial defenses.

He has already taken decisions to somewhat allege the challenge facing the Empire by abandoning most of the Eastern conquests of his predecessor, but it is not enough. He must find a way to shorten the frontiers, to concentrate the forces he has instead of forever moving them around to reinforce the units at the next crisis point. Because despite all the roman might their is always a crisis point, only the Gods’ benevolence preventing the Empire from facing multiple large ones at the same time. What if the Parthians attacked at a time when there was a huge barbarian push in the Danube or Rhine region, or a major rebellion in Britannia ? He needs to find a more permanent solution to his dilemma.

Rising from his throne, Hadrianus feels all eyes looking at him. Walking slowly, he approaches the huge map, his purple mantle falling on his shoulders being the only noise to be heard. For the next hour he will them the future. Two large scale offensives, both in the Danubian area, using forces freed by the end of the campaign in the east. Four enemies they knew well, two of them who had been diminished by the recent wars of Trajanus.

The Roxolani and the Daci would be attacked from across the Danube , from the east, and pushed toward the north and the tribe of the Carpi, where they would be all pushed to the other side of the river Porata. The Legio I Italica and XI Claudia would spearhead the attack with some detachments from the XV Apollinaris and the XII Fulminata brought from Cappadocia. The legio V Macedonica would serve as anchor for this movement while the XIII Gemina would protect the eastern side of the lands taken by Trajanus.

At the same time, on the other side of Dacia, XIV Gemina from Carnuntum, the II Adiutrix from Aquincum and the IV Flavia Felix would attack across the Danube from the west and the south, the VII Claudia protecting Dacia on the western side, the forces crushing the Iazyges to push them toward the mountains held by the Osi and the Cotini. The Quadi and the Marcomanni had been quiet enough those last few years to so diminish the forces protecting Noricum and Pannonia. It was a gambit, but a reasonable enough one.

Hadrianus himself would lead the Iazyge offensive, knowing the land well from a previous mission in the area. Those two operations would significantly diminish the total length of the border, with mountains and rivers to shore up the future defenses. Two or three years of campaigning would probably see the border put on the Porata or even the Tyras, giving numerous lines of defense against future raids from the steppe peoples.

His generals agreed. It was a sound plan, and would bring good agricultural land in the hands of the Empire, lands which would provide them with nice new estates as well as places where to settle many veterans. And in three or four years they would be able to turn their sight back toward the east and Parthia with seasoned soldiers at their back, where further riches would be plundered. Yes, they liked the plan they were seeing.

Red : the main axes of advance of the Imperial forces
Blue : the expected retreat of the barbarians

The expected new borders at the end of the operations

 

[Hecatee]

@thekingsguard : Thanks for the encouragement, I hope it'll be worth it for the readers coming back to this story !

And now, whithout further ado, the next installment :

Apulum, Dacia, Spring 118 CE

Caius Cassius Voltinius looked at the agitation in front of the door of his praetorium tent. His legion, the XIII Gemina, had been cut into two unequal units : one group, the smallest, had been left in the base of Apulum, along with an unit of auxiliaries, while he, two third of his forces and two cohorts of auxiliaries had moved south toward Romula Malva where they had set a temporary camp. Their task was simple, as they were to guard a river against any barbarian that would be pushed in front of them by the men of the I Italica coming across the Danube at Novae.

They would then go north toward the mountains where they would prevent enemy incursions, pushing them toward the forces of the reinforced XI Claudia and of the V Macedonica which would try to trap them as the cork on an amphora or the anvil where the hammer would be the combined forces of the I Italica and the XI Claudia. Simple and efficient, if the Roxolani cavalry was prevented to unite and destroy a legion in the plains…

Yet Voltinius was confident. The memory of their crushing defeat at the hands of Trajanus left the barbarian fearful of the power of the legions, and many would flee rather than suffer their deadly wrath. Grain had been brought from Egypt and Africa to the granaries of the bases at Novae, Durostorum and Troesmis through the ports of Odessus, Tomis and Istrus, ensuring a good provisioning of the forces of the eastern offensive.

On the other hand the plan to simultaneously attack on the western side of the province to beat the Iazyges seemed a bit risky to the veteran legion commander. Of course large forces were brought to bear against the enemy, and the land was rather suitable for the kind of operations planned by the emperor, but was it not tempting the Gods than to ask for two victorious major campaigns at the same time in such a small area ?

He was sure that wheat and oat had been brought in large quantities to the fortress of Viminacium, Singidunum and Aquincum, and that logistics would not be an issue, but would the forces deployed to defend Sarmizegetusa, Napoca and Porolissum be enough to serve as anvil for the western hammer ? He hoped he would not have to turn his forces in a hurry toward this area…

As a centurion led his men toward the parade ground for some exercises, Voltinius shrugged and turned his attention to the state of his forces. This century was not full strength, he would have to check on the day’s sick list…

 

[Hecatee]

Today's chapter is a newly written one, the first full lenght novel content in this reboot. Enjoy !

A Iazyge village, near the Tisia river, spring 118 CE


The wooden farm was on the periphery of the small village which housed a Iazyge extended family. A dozen houses close together with large fields all around and a wooded area providing firewood and some small game to improve the ordinary meals made of chicken and cereals. Children played around the houses while the women prepared the evening meals and the men came back from the field or trained with their weapons in the area dedicated to such exercise while there was still enough light for it.

Hilda was cooking the evening’s meal when they arrived. She was adding chicken to the heavy iron pot set to boil over the house’s heart when the first cries came through the open door of the building. Soon the noise grew as more people started panicking at the sight of the enemy cavalry bearing down on the village.

None of the village’s warriors had spotted them, giving the Romans a total element of surprise. Around a hundred men, they came from the wood and fell upon the village like a flight of deadly crows coming to steal grain in a freshly cut field.

The men on the training field had gathered, weapons in hands, but they’d been swiftly dealt with by the horsemen. None had had the time to mount a horse and most had been training with their swords and not their spear, and they had been unable to do more than some small cuts to horses or men.

They, on the other hand, had come wielding long spears or long swords, decapitating or amputating those they met, whatever their gender or age, not caring whether they held weapons or had empty hands. Soon a second group of horsemen approached from the other side of the village, cutting the way off for those who might have attempted to flee.

Soon some of the enemy warriors dismounted and started to look for survivors hiding in the houses and goods to loot. They were organized, with a man or two staying in front of the house while two of their comrades went inside, weapons drawn. They ransacked the places, murdering most of those they met, saving some of the girls for a worse fate, taking any piece of gold they could get their hands, cutting fingers of their still living victims to take their rings or ripping their collars and ear rings by sheer strength.

Hilda was among the unlucky ones : she was not wearing any jewelry and looked rather pretty, being less than sixteen summers and having only been married for less than six months. A soldier cut through her clothing with his knife, cutting her flesh, exposing her pale skin. Grabbing her by the hairs, he pushed her in front of his mates who cheered while fondling her with their bloody hands.

All over the village similar scenes were happening, and the cries of the victims rose to the sky while none came to their rescue. Soon men from the commissariat would arrive to plunder all the foodstuff they could find, and then they would torch the place. The Roman war machine had conquered a new village and would leave but ashes and corpses behind it...

 

[Hecatee]

Somewhere between Aquincum and Porolissum, near the Tisia river, late spring 118 CE

The campaign was going well and the emperor was pleased. Hadrianus was on his warhorse, relishing the good feeling that riding a powerful animal in company of a troop of mounted veterans always gave him. The season had started in late march by the building of a large bridge across the Danuvius, actually two bridges to and from a small island in the middle of the river which allowed for much less efforts than initially planned for this step of the expedition. He was followed by about twenty thousand men, mostly forces from legio XIV Gemina from Carnuntum and II Adiutrix from Aquincum itself and a large amount of auxiliaries coming from as far as Gaul and Britannia, recalled during the winter.

A force of about ten thousand more infantrymen was coming from the south, having started their march near the pannonian capital of Sirmium and the bases at Singidunum, dividing itself in two columns which were now ravaging the lands between the Danuvius and the Tisia, funneling the barbarians toward his force. They were being supported by the Danubian fleet, which prevented the enemy from crossing the river. Barbarian villages burned, women and children were killed or sold into slavery, and nowhere the men of fighting age were given the opportunity to regroup.

Still, the Iazyges made up a powerful tribe, and he could not underestimate them. He suspected that many of their warriors would be able to retreat behind the Tisia, on the Dacian side of the river, and might try to launch an attack against Porolissum or another of the recently founded cities of the province…

A dispatch bearer appeared and went for one of his aide. Probably something about a village destroyed, or a site found for the night’s camp… The area was far less densely wooded than the northern Germania, a good thing too if his plan was to succeed and if he were not to succumb to the kind of trap that had killed le legatus Varus in the time of the divine Augustus.

Hadrianus idly wondered for the umpteenth time whether he had made a good decision to attack across the Danuvius instead of launching his forces from Dacia toward the anvil that the river would have been. It had been a hotly debated question in the previous autumn, when the plans had been drawn, and he knew many officers were still uneasy about it.

Yet Hadrianus found it the best way to proceed, Dacia not being strong enough yet to support so many legions at once. Besides, the new province being ravaged would not really be a major loss, and the area, settled as it was with recently retired veterans and guarded by two legions and various auxiliaries, would prove to be a hard nut to crack for the Barbarians…

 

[Hecatee]

On the bank of the Tisia, early spring 118 CE

The two forces were deployed face to face, between their two camps. On a rather narrow plain flanked by forests on one side and the river Tisia on the other, closed by the camps of the two armies, nearly ninety thousand armed men, faced each other. On the roman side, two full legions stood under their eagles, flanked by various auxiliary units for a total of some thirty thousand combatant.

In front, the Barbarian seemed to be three times as numerous as the Romans, as at least fifty thousand warriors, mostly men on foot armed with long spears, swords and shields or hunting bows, confronted their foe. Behind them, on the walls of the makeshift camp made of chariots and barrels, many women and children looked at their menfolk. They knew it was all or nothing: the river was too wide to cross easily, and they were no boats available. Beside the Romans had put cavalry and a small infantry detachment on the other bank of the river, ready to kill anyone who’d try to escape and managed to go past the warships prowling the waters.

It had taken some three months, but the legions had finally cornered a large party of Iazyges before they could escape to the northern mountains. Hadrian’s forces had closed the way and pushed people toward the south where two columns of auxiliaries supported by part of the Danubian fleet were coming. Finally the various forces had met. A night march had let the Romans regroup, the southern force coming to the Emperor’s camp. A complex, tricky maneuver, but a successful one that had only been made possible by the complete dominance of the Tisia river by the fleet.

A tower had been built on the field of war, on which hung the imperial standard. Hadrianus wanted his men to see him, but he also wanted to keep some control on the battle. About two third of the Iazyges people was trapped and the day’s battle would decide their fate.

The Romans had arrived before the Iazyges, and the site was the one that best suited them in a four days of march radius. They had planted some traps on their flank to prevent an attack from outside the woods, and artillery had been carefully sited to help soften any barbarian charge in the front. The men were confident, after a rather easy walk into enemy territory. The Iazyges had been completely surprised by the offensive, which had begun quite early in the year despite the rivers still being inflated by water from the melted snow. Boat bridges had been built in sections and quickly launched across the river, benefitting from experience on the rivers of Mesopotamia and Dacia in the previous years.

Loot had been plentiful, with many new slaves being captured and many golden ornaments found in the huts or on the bodies of fallen warriors. But now the time to pay for it all had come, and it would be settled in blood. Still, the favorable terrain and the roman discipline of the veteran forces would be more than able to cope with the undisciplined barbarian onslaught, or so hoped every roman soldier present that day.

Silence reigned in the roman lines, except for the occasional bark of a centurion berating one of his men. The almost total lack of cavalry in this battle meant that no horses were neighing nervously, and most men simply waited for the battle to begin. The priests had made their sacrifices, auspices were deemed favorable. The Emperor himself was with them, which meant he might see and recompense brave deeds. His sight alone gave strength to his men, even if more than one veteran still despised him for killing some of the Empire’s best generals and abandoning so many lands the previous year.

On the other side of the field was a large body of men. Thousands upon thousands of warriors milled around, loosely grouped around their war leaders. Some men carried armor, brilliant chainmail and golden helmets decorated with strange devices in the shape of animals or with brilliant feathers, but most only wore a tunic and long pants. The noblest warriors did also have golden armlets that would do fine as trophies for those who would slay them. Many carried a shield, either a small round piece of wood with a central metallic umbos or a larger wicker shield. Few carried heavy shields made in the Gallic fashion. Tall spears and long swords where the weapons of choice of those men.

While the Romans were mostly silent, the Iazyges were rather noisy, loudly calling names at their enemies. Sometimes some men would go out of the crowd and call out for a duel, never answered by the legionaries. One man, braver or more insane than the other, approached the Romans before being speared by a ballista bolt that went through him and fell a few paces before the barbarian lines. First blood had been shed.

The barbarian answered by dressing their lines while beginning their war chant, hitting their shields with their blades. It was not the baryttus of the northern Germans, but it was similar. Behind them the women and the children took on the cry, adding their voice to the waves of sound that traveled the field toward the legions.

There it was met by the silent prayers of the soldiers, and then the hymn to Apollo was sung. The deep voices of the legionaries took the chant in Latin, each man with his own accent bearing witness to the size of the Empire. From Gaul as well as from Syria, from Mauretania as well as from Italy, from Achaia as well as from Egypt, they had come on this Danubian field of this day to fight for a city most had never seen, in the name of an Emperor which few had ever seen before this campaign.

The Barbarians began to advance toward the Romans, still chanting. Suddenly the noise of many cords suddenly released sounded in the back of the soldiers, followed by the sound of large projectiles rushing toward the enemy lines.

Ballistae shot their bolts which impaled many men at once, larger round shots falling from the sky and rolling on the ground, breaking bones and making men howl with pain. Still the great mass of the enemy kept coming, like a beast whose wounds would close as soon as they appeared.

Legionaries readied their heavy pilum, the throwing spear designed to break the shield formations of the enemies that was their trademark as much as their heavy lorica segmentata. Auxiliaries made sure their chainmail was falling correctly on their shoulders, checked their swords in their scabbard, prayed one last time to their own native gods or to Mithra.

Taking a few steps to get more throwing power, the first ranks of legionaries hurled their spears toward the enemy, unsheathing their blades while the dark cloud of iron and wood fell on the Iazyges, sowing death deep in their formation. Still they came, pushed forward by mass as much as by will. The legionaries kept going, their line an impeccable front of heavy shields and metal helmets, the points of their gladius visible in the gaps between the scutum of the men.

A huge noise resonated in the field when the two armies connected. Arrows flew above the first lines of each side, falling down onto the soldiers waiting to get into the meat grinder that was called battle. Men fell to the ground, some slain outright, others still screaming while their comrade in arms walked upon them or their enemies stabbed them so that they may not do any harm any longer. New volleys of heavy pilae fell upon the seething mass of barbarians, bringing more destruction on the densely packed warriors.

In the tower where Hadrianus watched the fight, the tension was palpable. The officers of the high command were happy to see that the roman line had held to the shock. Now it was to be seen if they would last long enough to put the enemy in flight. Still, orders had to be sent. Flags from the top of the tower communicated them to the other side of the river, where a horseman saw them and began to run his horse toward the south. The trap was now sprung…

For Hadrianus had planned well and chosen his terrain while knowing that he had no room to deploy his cavalry in the normal way. For this reason he’d used his fleet to carry a part of it on a small island in the middle of the river, and he had now given the order that they cross again and fall on the back of the Barbarians, a party of auxiliaries following to secure the enemy camp while everyone was watching for the main action. Grinning somberly, the emperor kept watching the action in front of him. His infantrymen only had to hold for three hours…

 

[Hecatee]

A short piece this week, introducing some new characters not present in the original timeline...

Library of Octavia’s portico, Rome, spring 118 CE


The man sighed deeply before giving the scroll back to the slave that stood beside him, signifying him with a movement of the hand that he could put it back where it belonger. He was tired. He’d been working since dawn in the large, airy and luminous room. Around him others read their papyri, murmuring the text to themselve, or had slaves read the words for them. Truly the divine Augustus had done a great service to Rome when he’d built the library. He longed to see what the new greek and latin libraries the divine Trajanus had ordered would contain, but he was already quite happy with what could be found here. Or at least he was most of the days, but not this time. He’d spent hours looking for the elusive passage, but had been unable to locate it. Yet he was sure it’d been Tacitus who’d been giving that anecdote about the mad emperor Nero… But if it was not in his life of Agricola, as he’d thought and been unable to confirm, then he could not begin to think of another source for this info. And he desperately needed it to flesh out the chapter he was working on…

The noise of someone walking close by and then stopping next to him made the reader look at his side. A big smile appeared on his face as he rose to meet the man who’d come by : “Senator Clarus, what a pleasure ! How are you doing today ?”

The man smiled at his friend : “Ah Gaius Suetonius Tranquilus ! I hope you fare well ! Still working on this piece of history of yours ?”

“May the Gods preserve you and yours, Senator. To answer your question I am indeed, although I am currently particularly delayed by an elusive piece of information I thought I recalled about the time of the mad poet but can’t seem to find ! But enough of my rambling, what are you doing here yourself ? This is not your usual abode, your domus being so richly equipped in books…”

The senator sat next to Suetonius and shrugged : “Sometimes I need an information my books can’t provide. Mostly it is to be found in the tabularium, among the archives of our republic, but here I am looking for a piece of arcane history from the Greeks. You see the senator Pullo and I have somewhat of a disagreement on the exact events surrounding the fall of Sparta to Thebes, and my library has more poesy than history… I’ve come to look at Diodoros, Xenophon and others to see if I can come to a proof that will allow me to win the debate with Pullo. Yet when I saw you here I could not pass on the occasion to speak to you, especially as you have been rarely seen at the salutatio those last few weeks…”

“I know and am deeply sorry senator, as you know how much I like to be of service to your family. Yet in the last few weeks I’ve been fully immersed in my research, to the point that the slaves here are getting mad from my incessant requests for new scrolls… Oh and by the way I would be unable to help you with your quest, I don’t read the Greeks much beside Polybius and Diodoros latests books, finding in Rome’s history more than enough subjects for my curiosity… But ask for the slave Arete, he’s the most learned of those caring for the Greek section and will probably be able to provide you with if not a direct answer at least with the reference of the volumes you should peruse to solve your issue.”

 

[Hecatee]

After a period where real life business (4 academic papers to present between June and August, a new job, and various trips to visit archeological remains and museums in France, Italy and Greece) competed with a lack of motivation following the few reactions from the readership. Yet I've been asked by one of you to keep going so here we are with a new chapter, we'll go back to our schedule of a post every monday. Yet for this week I'll post two, with the hope that you'll enjoy them !

On the bank of the Tisia, early spring 118 CE


Seven days had passed since the large battle that had seen the destruction of any coherent Iazyge defense had been won. All around the imperial tent wounded soldiers walked in order to carry some duty or just for the pleasure of walking and being alive. While not so many romans had been killed, only some four hundred men, the wounded were numerous, hundreds of men having lost limbs or been severely hurt in another way : eyes gouged by the iron of a spear, face cut by swords’ points, bones broken by the pressure of the bodies of the warriors behind and in front of them…

Still, they were much better off than their enemies. Thousands of their best warriors had died in the front line, unable to pierce the wall of wood and steel and flesh of the legions, unable to overwhelm the Romans despite the large numerical advantage they held. The narrowness of the plain had constricted them, hampering their moves and limiting the number of arms they could bear against the legionaries and their auxiliaries, and the Romans’ discipline and almost mechanical way of killing had meant they could keep fighting much longer than the Barbarian. At one point they had even made a retreat of half a hundred paces in order for fresher men to take place on the front line, breaking contact for a few seconds before the stunned barbarians could react.

And then the cavalry had come. Not many men attacked the barbarians from their back, only about a thousand horsemen, but they were enough. They had spread enormous fear in the heart of their enemies who began to flee under the despairing calls of their women and children already being taken captive by the force of auxiliaries that had crossed the river with the horsemen.

Hadrianus had been remembered of the divine Caesar’s description of the final defeat of the Helvetii. Here too he’d captured a very large crowd making a full people, with many of their warriors killed or taken captive. But, unlike his predecessor, he did not intend to set them free and to give them a new land. The proceedings of the sale of the whole lot as slaves would greatly improve the Empire’s finances as well as his own. Or at least such had been his initial thinking…

It had been one of his subordinate who had come with the innovative idea: why sell them all to others who would get rich from their labor when he could as well settle them on imperial lands currently unoccupied where they would be able to build cities and pay taxes forever, taxes that would go to the treasure instead of into the fortunes of the senators. Also they could be settled in distant places where they would cause no troubles and serve the empire, especially if they were to be isolated from their free brethren. Had not the divine Caesar done something somewhat similar when he had ordered the Helvetii back to their abandoned lands where they had served as deterrent to Germanic raids on northern Italia ?

The debate following this novel idea had been fierce, to say the least. Yet a solution had finally been found, with all the captive without consort and all the couples without children being sold into slavery, the rest, being mostly the younger couples, to be split into about a hundred groups of some twenty families that would be sent to Syria, Mauretania and Britannia where each group would found a village to work the land and later to provide recruits for the local auxiliary forces. Those lands had all known recent unrest and could benefit from peoples that would be grateful for the opportunity not to end up in slavery… while also being loyal out of fear of being killed because they’d be the stranger taking good lands from the locals.

Now that this issue had been resolved the emperor had also to plan his next move. He had not expected such a swift and crushing victory on his enemies in the west. He could probably begin the real work of settling the area with roads and fortresses as well as plan for more civilian settlements. But should he set the territories into a new province or simply add it to either Moesia or Dacia ?

 

[Hecatee]

Near Piscul, Dacia Inferior, late spring 118 CE

Caius Cassius Voltinius was furious. That stupid commander would see them all killed before this war would end, and it would not be Rome that would be the victorious party. First he’d wanted to wait for news of the imperial campaign to the west before beginning to move his forces. Then he’d gone with a slow, meticulous, cleaning of the area, instead of following the initial imperial plans.

Instead of coming vigorously from the south with two legions and supports and push the enemy toward the forces launched from Troesmis, he’d decided to use the numerous rivers of the area as limits to sectors he wanted pacified before moving on to the next one. Thus had first the I Italica moved across the Danuvius, going toward the north east, alone in enemy territory, while the forces under Voltinius command had also gone toward the north.

The I Italica had suffered casualties in many skirmishes, it’s progress hampered by cavalry raids by the Roxolani, mainly horse archers darting in and out before anyone could react. The legion had not even received all the cavalry support it could have, so they were unable to retaliate. Then the XI Claudia had also launched its attack, about one month and a half after the garrison of Novae had left. From Durostorum they had gone north, meeting up with the I Italica near the Dacian citadel of Piscul, well to the west of their intended march plans.

Voltinius himself had received orders to reinforce them there, traveling with his half legion and most of his auxiliaries. They were now some twenty thousand men, about a fifth of them cavalry, about to fight against a massive Roxolani army of some thirty thousand men, at least two third of them being cavalrymen.

Voltinius still remembered his shock when he’d learned, more than twenty five years earlier, how the legio XXI Rapax had been destroyed by the Roxolani. Possibly some of the men he was now going to fight had been present that day, sinking their iron into Roman blood.

The Romans were thus at about half the strength they should have been, and had been cornered in a place where they would have to give battle, unable to wait for the forces from Troesmis which had finally left their camp and were coming from the north-east toward their position, meaning that while they would probably not be able to help in the coming battle, they would probably be able to crush those victorious Roxolani left alive after Voltinius’ men death. And thus providing their commander with all the glory... and the loot !

Voltinius chastised himself. Such way of thinking could only lead to defeat. It was not the Roman way. After all did not the legio III Gallica succeed in destroying a force of 9000 Roxolanian cavalry in the time of the cursed emperor Nero ?

With those thoughts in mind, he went to the meeting organized by his fellow legati to plan for the next day...

 

[Hecatee]

I also like the way you write about battles. Usually I find them hard to follow, so I skip them, but not in this case.

I'm not good at writting action packed scenes from close inside the battle, so I don't even try : English is not my first langage (it's actually my third or even fourth, depending on how you count them) and I know my limitations So I won't try to compete with Harry Sidebottom or Robert Fabbri, to mention but two authors, and try to take a different point of view, a bit like Richard Blake does with his Aelric books, but without the humour

It'll be good to see the Romans avoiding the stupid (from our modern perspective) mistakes they did OTL

I do not want to make this TL a wank, so they won't stop making mistakes, but I do intend to adress some of them

Without further ado, here's today extra-long post :

Near Priscul, Dacia Inferior, 118 CE

The battle was going badly. The Roxolani had not many horse archers, but most of their infantry carried a bow. They had heavy cavalry to cover the archers, ready to cut off any roman attempt to attack them, and no centurion was crazy or inexperienced enough to try such a feat. The Parthian campaign had seen to it. Thus the legions were suffering under the rain of arrows, men being cut down despite the shields and armors they wore.

Voltinius remembered the famous Greek quote about fighting in the shade of the Persian arrows, and felt it was quite appropriate: sometime the volleys of projectile were so dense as to filter the light of Sol Invictus himself.

Of course the Romans were not idly standing under arms. Keeping their inferior cavalry in reserve, they had adopted a slightly bulging line, so as to prevent encirclement by the enemies. Ditches with sharp banks going back to the camp’s walls did also help to prevent a flank attack, but the main strength of the Romans sat with their field artillery.

Carrobalistae were an innovation of the defunct divine Trajanus’ engineers and were, for all purpose, a light ballista mounted on the back of a chariot that did also carry ammunitions for the weapons. Mounted as they were, the weapons could shoot above the heads of the legionaries, striking deep into any enemy formation daring enough to try to close the distance with the infantry. If the enemy came into range…

They’d done so twice now, heavy cavalry charges on the right and left flanks designed to terrify the Romans and make them flee, turning around just before hitting the infantry lines. The Roxolany knew well from experience that any attempt to go to contact with their huge kontos lance would lead to their demise: the heavily armored cavalrymen would not have the opportunity to strike many infantrymen while those would be able to unseat them, effectively making them almost paralyzed by the weight of the very armor that made them so fearful when on horseback.

The two failed attempt had left about two hundreds horsemen lying on the ground, some alongside their dead or dying mounts. The sounds of the wounded, both men and animals, could be heard even in the center of the Roman line, alongside the cries of the wounded Romans themselves.

It was a stalemate. It was clear to everyone that the Romans would not move from their carefully prepared positions. Still the Romans had access to the river, so they could get fresh water. Also they had enough food with them for about half a month. And they did not have to worry about a second army catching them in the back in the middle of a battle, a possibility made more credible for the Roxolani by every passing day. That, at least, was the message Voltinius gave to his men to give them confidence.

The fighting stopped for a moment, both sides staying on their positions. The battle was not finished for the day, just paused so that everyone could evaluate the situation. Wounded were brought to the rear of the roman lines, formations were tidied, flasks of watered wine passed around with some bread.

While the Romans thus rested, the Roxolani decided they had no choice. Caught between frustration and strategic concerns, they would have to break through the center of the Roman line, flood between the camp and the legions and kill everyone they would meet there or they would be the one defeated. Four waves of a thousand horsemen each would be sent in succession against the Romans, the weight of the horses hopefully being able to open a way toward the Roman’s rear.

Of course Voltinius did not know it yet. He was amongst his men, making sure they had drunk and eaten something. In the sky the sun had finally lifted above the clouds, darting his hot rays on the ranks of waiting men. Half of the day had already been spent.

Suddenly a great cry arose, the ground started to shake as a thousand horses started to gallop toward the roman legions. Tubae sounded the recall for the legionaries. Hurriedly soldiers took back their positions, holding their shields together to make a wall of wood designed to deter the enemy horses. Commanding officers looked above their shield’s rim despite the danger of a stray arrow, waiting for a sign. Then the piercing sound of the bronze trumpets sounded once more and the roman army went backward one step, then another, as if shrinking and trying to escape the shock of cavalry.

The ranks parted slightly, revealing wooden poles between the retreating men , a first and then a second line of young trees cut and planted into the ground during the night in pre-planned holes which the Roxolani had not seen, the legions being in place early enough in the morning to deny them any view on the defenses. After half a dozen step the soldiers stopped and once more dressed their ranks, their officers smiling at them: their ruse had worked.

It had been an idea of Voltinius, born of previous experience with the horsemen's tribes. The Roxolani saw the threat appear in front of them but it was already too late: the speed and mass of their horses meant they could not turn in time, could not slow, could not get back : the horses came straight on the sharpened poles, rearing in front of them or impaling themselves, throwing their heavily armored owners on the ground where the weight of their leather and metal armors prevented them from getting back on their feet.

Dying horses made an awful noise while thrashing on the ground, crushing the men lying alongside them while Roman spears tried to mercifully end their pain. Blood flowed everywhere, wetting the ground to the point where the poles crashed down, the Romans losing their protection. But it did not matter: the surviving Roxolani were now fleeing toward their main army whose leaders were already turning around. The legions would survive the day.

 

[Hecatee]

Porolissum, end of summer 118 CE

The Emperor was looking at the map displayed along one wall of his council chamber. He was pleased. Of course the area would still need campaigning for two or three years, but most of the goals had been achieved and losses had been relatively light despite the stunning stupidity of some of his commanders. Or former commanders should he say…

There were still operations taking place, the season being far from finished, but everyone was already beginning to plan for the winter season. Camps were being built for the bad season, using strong points to control travel in the new territories and prepare for the next year’s campaign. He’d decided to reorganize the whole region, with an inferior and a superior Dacia, and border changes to Moesia and the two Pannonia defined by Trajanus.

Thanks to his victory on the Iazyges, Hadrianus had received a formal notification of victory from the senate, soon followed by a second one after news of his legates’ victories in Dacia had reached the capital. Those, he hoped, would be the firsts of many. He’d had money stamped to commemorate the victory, and not in cheap silver either but good gold aurei and quinarii with a gold content to rival with those of the time of the blessed Augustus himself. Of course not that many of those had been coined, but enough for them to make an impression in the right circles.

With his goals now achieved and his rule uncontested since the repression of the Mauritanian rebellion, Hadrianus could look forward to going back to Rome and make his formal entrance in the capital city of the Empire. He already had great plans to commemorate his victory, but before those he had first to see to some other tasks, some more pleasant than the others. And it was one of those more pleasant tasks that was now awaiting him in the form of a man standing in front of his imperial presence.

Caius Cassius Voltinius still bore bandages around his broken arm and his nose was still not completely set. Still, the man held himself upright, proud but still aware of his place in front of his emperor. Hadrianus liked such men and knew he needed them if the Empire and his reign were to be preserved.

On a gesture of Hadrianus came a slave carrying a richly ornamented box presented on a pillow, which he proceeded to open, masking its content to the legion commander. All around the council chamber high officers stood silent, looking at the face of the emperor. Hadrianus rose, and took the content of the box, showing it to all before putting it on the head of Voltinius while a deadly silence had taken hold of the room. It was a finely woven crown, a corona obsidionalis made of freshly cut grass taken on the battlefield where the officer had bled.

There was no doubt in the room that the officer being honored merited it, as his orders had prevented the destruction of the forces his legion was part of. The corona would forever remember those who met the legate of the fact that his actions had saved an army, a distinction that not even the emperor had. No one had received one since the divine Augustus and only nine names had been deemed worthy of the award before, including Fabius Cunctator, Scipio Africanus, Sulla and Quintus Sertorius.

As the grass crown settled on the legate’s head the assembly erupted in loud cheers for the emperor had just granted Voltinius the highest possible military honor, higher even than a triumph…

 

[Hecatee]

Sirmium, Pannonia Inferior, early winter 118 CE


Caius Cassius Voltinius was relaxing in the large and almost empty bath of the governor’s palace. A few of the most well off wounded of the year’s campaign had been sent to Sirmium by river barges on order of the Emperor, and they had been offered all the confort the province could provide. Which, admittedly, was not much. Pannonia inferior was still a mostly military province, with few town and even fewer amenities.

Even the governor’s palace was drafty and drab, the owner of the position being expected to spend most of his time reviewing the troops in the numerous watch posts along the Danube. Still, it was better to stay here than in one of the legionary barracks were the common soldiers tried to heal in the cold winter north of the river while their comrades fought against any tribesman not yet convinced to yield to the roman arms.

No, the baths of the palace, with their large hot pool and the slaves always ready to bring some wine or help the guests in any way they could were a nice improvement on his campaign tent. Especially when he could share his bath with intelligent men such as the one currently lying a bit further with his eyes closed.

Lucius Flavius Arrianus was a rather young up and coming cavalry officer but also a devout philosopher. Having done his military service he was spending some time with his old philosophy tutor Epictetus in Nicopolis when he’d heard of his emperor’s upcoming campaign and had directly come to Oescus : riding hard he’d gone north along the coast past Dyrrachium and Lissus. It had taken him 15 days to reach the point where he’d had to veer north-east toward Ulpiana, Naissus and Bononia, in Moesia, where he’d taken advantage of the fact the Danube was not yet frozen over to take a ship to Oescus. He’d been on the road for almost a month when he’d reached the imperial praetorium and had offered his services, which had been promptly accepted by the emperor as the Prefect of a cavalry ala whose commander had fallen ill.

Thanks to this timely arrival he’d been part of the imperial campaign against the Iazyges, including the battle on the Tisia in which he’d played an important role, being the commander of one of the units that crossed the river behind the back of the barbarians. He’d been wounded later in the campaign, during mop up operations while his men dispersed a group of Quadi barbarians trying to use the region’s troubles to their own advantage. A germanic lance had taken him in the leg, leaving a long scar but no lasting damages. Still he’d been sent to the rear area by the legate in charge of the operations and was now indulging the pain soothing effect of the hot bath while discussing philosophy and history with Voltinius.

He’d been particularly interested in the anti-cavalry tactics used by his famous companion, and they’d spent hours discussing how best improve them for use against the Parthians on the eastern front. They’d even had some bored soldiers of the garrison shoot a few catapult shots of iron caltrops to study how they’d disperse on the field and whether it might be an efficient way to disrupt a charge.

Arrianus had started writing about those discussions and about the war, the idea of writing a book on the topic of the war seeming a good way to spend his winter in this town where many officers going back to Rome for the winter stopped and were more than happy to spend an evening drinking wine and sharing their stories with the wounded officers, including the hero of the campaign, the famous Voltinius, whose story they also wanted to hear...

 

[Hecatee]

Near Rome, late spring 119 CE


The men walked their horses on the via Salaria at a sedate pace. They were coming home, after a long campaign and an even longer winter that had seen them heal their wounds and become deep friends. They had just passed the last hill before the Urbs and their first reaction had not been one of awe… The stink of the city had hit them full force, close to a million inhabitants’ smells mixed together to create that noxious cloud that marked the greatest city of the world.

Still it was home. From their vantage point they could see the magnificent buildings of the city, the temple of Jupiter foremost among them as it sat high on the capitolium. Temples rose through many neighborhood, as did large bathing complexes such as Aggripa’s close to the theater of Pompey or the brand new therms built by the now divinized Trajanus.

All around the two men dozens walked the road, many carting fruits or vegetables toward the city or bringing animals to be slaughtered at the altars of the Gods. Other were obviously travelers coming from distant land like themselves, taking advantage of the recent opening of the sea ways for the yearly season. Coming down from Sirmium to the coast, they’d taken a ship at Salona, in Dalmatia, and crossed over to Castrum Truentinum, where they’d bought horses for the some 125 miles to the capital.

Along the way the two former officers had crossed italian recruits sent to reinforce the units across the Danuvius, where the auxiliaries were engaged in mop up operations while the legions were busy with the construction of new forts, towns and roads which would ensure the Romans’ control over the area. Some adventurous settlers were also arriving, eager for a free plot of land where they might raise their families. It had been almost a century between the last great conquests of the Empire and the capture of lands by the divine Trajan and his successor. The news of the victories beyond the Danuvius had made many uncertain candidate fix their mind as they considered the danubian provinces much safer now that the army’s presence on the other side was assured. Few would go as far as the new provinces, for fear of brigands or rebels, but it would certainly bring new life to Dacia and the provinces south of the large river.

Of course both men knew that imperial recruiters were behind this wave of settlers, men promising money, tax exemption and equipment to those willing to take the risks. Hadrianus would also settle veterans in the area, distributing larger than usual tracts of lands to the deserving soldiers so that they may give birth to new generations of soldiers and serve themselve as a kind of reserve force when the active military presence would diminish. That had always been the policy of the Empire and of the Republic before. The Iazyge and Roxolani lands were almost pristine, with few villages and no real town, and were thus perfect for establishing such kind of colonies.

In fact both men themselves had received large tracts of lands from the Emperor, lands they thought about using for raising horses and mules if they could find any good stock to trade in order to start their cheptel, something they would set about finding once home. They’d need to send a villicus and some slaves to break the ground and build the first buildings before they could send horses, but hoped to turn a profit in under five years : the army would buy any horse flesh they could find, and a lot of troops were in the region… Senator and equestrian had in common their eye on good investments, and both Arrianus and Voltinius were shrew enough to recognize the potential for raising their fortune…

 

[Hecatee]

Indeed I think Dacia can be a place from where to project power all around, but the eastern side would still be vulnerable and needs it's Hadrian wall based upon the rivers, which are much shorter than the Danube... but let's not get too far ahead and go back to the story

Rome, winter 119 CE

Hadrianus was once more meeting his concilium behind closed doors, settling some of the many matters that demanded his attention. The Parthians were once more agitating the Jews, and there were the most disturbing information about troubles brewing in the German territories.

The Emperor was not planning on participating in any war by himself, having decided to let his generals handle this business without him, but he still needed to make sure they’d get enough money and enough men to accomplish their tasks, and of course all the others things armies needed to operate inside and outside of the Empire.

At least the borders of the trans-Danubian provinces were quiet, and he had the possibility to redispatch some of the forces concentrated there back to their original units. Of course there was always a risk for revolt in the region, but he thought it would not happen for at least half a decade : three wars fought on this land in less than twenty years had left the area much depopulated, especially with his resettlement program.

His mind so went his own way until a word brought him back to the meeting. Yes, what to do with the talented Caius Cassius Voltinius ? Well the solution being presented by the Ab Epistulae looked good, a military command in Britannia might be a good idea for his next position, but not before he’d spent a year in Rome during which he’d hold a consulship for one month, maybe in December with Hadrianus himself for colleague ?

Britannia was also a thorn in the Empire’s side, with a lot of troops required to defend the area against the barbarians from the north and any attempt by the already subjugated tribes to rise in revolt as they had done under Boddica, in the time of the damned Nero. Actually there was a revolt currently under way at the very moment, although the forces in theater under the command of Pompeius Falco seemed sufficient to take care of things.

Abandoning the island, as he’d once thought about, would not do, not after all the investments which had been done. He would simply not survive politically from such an abandonment. It was one thing to let go of dangerously exposed mesopotamian lands when one’s rear was threatened by insurrection, it was quite a different thing to abandon what had been a province for more than a century.

As he was entertaining this train of thoughts, Hadrian let his eyes roam the large mosaic map that showed the limits of his Empire. They were really but two solutions to the dilemma of Britannia, either build a wall to protect the south from the savages or invade and beat them into submissions, finishing what the general Agricola had not been allowed to end fifty years earlier.

While such solution might not allow for an immediate withdrawal of the troops toward the Rhine border, it would make it possible in the longer term, especially if a good deal of the population was killed or enslaved with troublesome peoples exiled there in their stead and fighting for sheer survival in an unfamiliar environment where the Empire would be their only guaranty of safety. So far from the East the Jews would not be influenced by the Parthians anymore…

But it was no use making plans now. He’d go to Britannia himself and see what the situation looked like before taking any decision. Maybe he’d even give Voltinius his first independent theater command, although he had to be careful not to create a threat to himself such as Agricola had been to the damned Domitianus…

 

[Hecatee]

Rome, 1st January 120 CE


The cold had not hampered the procession coming from the Palatine hill. A century of praetorians made way for the long files of notables that followed their emperor toward the Capitol. Musicians played their instruments, followed by the ruler of the empire and the man destined to be consul alongside him for the first few months of the year. They both carry their heavy toga with the large purple band symbol of their senatorial rank, the large clothe protecting them from the cold. Their red shoes insulates them from the cold stones of the forum romanum, where the plebs has gathered to watch them pass. While Hadrian walks with his head naked, Voltinius bears a grass crown freshly woven in his hairs, as is his privilege to his last day.

Behind Hadrian and Voltinius stands the whole senate, dressed similarly and talking with each other, although some stop for lack of breath as the procession begins to climb to the Capitol where the ceremony is to take place. There the former consuls and the priests await those who will soon give their name to the new year. Two bulls are already standing next to the altar, their horns gilded and their neck covered in flowers, with enough drugs in their system to make sure they’ll go willingly to their death.

Next to the beast stand an augure that will look to the sky, attempting to decipher the will of the gods in the flight of birds while an haruspice will do the same in the entrails of the soon to be sacrificed beasts. Of course the augure has made sure that his assistant stands hidden in the rafter of the temple with a number of doves kept in cages, to be released at the appropriate moment so as to give propitious tidings to the emperor…

Finally the procession has arrived. The two former consuls officially abdicate their power and swear they’ve done nothing contrary to the laws of the state, officially presenting their accounting books. They thank their lictors for their services during the few months they’ve spent in office and shuffle toward the mass of waiting senators.

Attendants now come toward the emperor and his designated co-consul and invite them to proceed with the sacrifice. Knifes are given, beasts slain by the two men who’ve put their toga above their head in deference to the gods. Both are used to the process and no blood splatter their togas, which would have been an ill omen. The haruspice hurries to take the livers, which he soon proclaim to be without blemish, and the augure raises his staff to the sky, defining the window in which he’ll look for the gods approval with soon comes as doves fly straight through the area he has designated. Peace is to be maintained in the coming months, another good sign.

Now the two men swear the oaths to the gods that they will uphold the laws of the city and attendant come with new togas : the white, purple striped toga praetexta is replaced by the prestigious purple toga that marks their new rank as consuls of Rome. Of course it is not a first for Hadrian, but that is a detail.

For Voltinius on the other hand this in a dream long though unachievable that becomes reality. He also knows that this is a challenge, as the Emperor had dispensed him from a number of positions to promote him almost a decade early to the position, thus making a number or angry or jealous adversaries. He knows that many whispers in his back and hope to see him loose imperial favour. It does not matter : he knows staying in Rome would be a risk and does intend to do his term in office and then take a single governorship in the provinces before retiring to his estate so as not to take the risk of always remembering the emperor that he has received the honor of the grass crown, to which he’ll probably never be able to pretend.

Attendants now bring two curule chairs, another symbol of consular power, and lictors come forward to swear their services to the two men for the duration of their mandate. Hadrian, as senior consul, thanks them. Then the quaestor assigned to them arrive, junior senators that will be held accountable for the money of the state the consuls will manage during their term. Here too it is routine, and in fact Voltinius has already spoken with his quaestor a number of time. He’s a bright lad, awed to served under the hallowed Voltinius but not letting the fact go to his head.

Finally the ceremony winds up and everyone retires to his home, hoping not to have catched a cold. Life in Rome goes as usual...

 

[Hecatee]

Vindolanda, early spring 122 CE

The huge wooden palace creaked in the wind, rain falling noisily on its roof. Yet inside the main room, deep into the temporary building, none heard it : the sound was covered by the voices of those having an animated discussion about what ought to be done. The scene was quite similar to the one which had played five years before in Oescus, with the Emperor surrounded by his generals and planning the demise of the barbarians.

One of the men around the table was the new governor of Britannia, Voltinius. Quintus Pompeius Falco, the previous governor, had been thanked profusely by Hadrian and given time to stay in Rome for a bit before taking his new position as proconsul of Asia, an opportunity for him to become rich and thus prepare for a leisurely retreat to his country estate in a few years, if the state had no more need of him. Voltinius would take his place and implement the imperial strategy the Emperor was about to embark upon.

The legions had by now mostly vanquished the rebel Brigantes, and while the losses had been heavy they had been acceptable : the units were still operational while their enemy had suffered grievous losses. Some thought it was the ideal moment to spring from the various bases in the area and conquer the lands to the north up to the coast that Agricola’s expedition had seen some fifty years before. Thanks to the care of the secretary ab Epistulis Latinis, the scholar Suetonius, copies of Agricola’s reports and of Tacitus’ biography of the general stood on the table that occupied the middle of the room, laying on top of a large map copied from the imperial archives before Hadrian had left Rome and then updated with more precise informations from the local forces.

Five years had been necessary for the campaign of Agricola, and while the battle of Mons Graupius had temporarily tamed them, the northerners had since been able to repopulate their tribes with two generations of warriors. But then maybe Voltinius might prove able to follow in the steps of Agricola ? The general was standing the the right of Hadrian, keeping mostly silent and looking at his emperor. When Hadrianus looked at him, Voltinius gave him a sign of acquiescence : he thought the challenge possible.

The emperor rose from his seat and silence came into the room. Walking to the table, he put his hands on the northern territories and said : “We take it. Voltinius, I give you command to vanquish those tribes. We are not on the eastern front, there is no huge lands north of us that would be an unfinishable conquest as was Parthia. Yet such a conquest will take time and resources, and require all the strength already present on this island. But I can’t send more reinforcements from the german limes, so we will have to raise new forces. We will thus recruit one legion in Gaul and four auxiliary units, two of cavalry and two of infantry, from elsewhere. The gold from the Iazyge and Roxolani campaigns has slept long enough, it is time to make it work. And I think I know the perfect recruitment ground for your forces. Dacia. There are many warriors there, half mad with hunger after the devastation we brought to their lands, which would certainly serve in our units if it meant a chance for redemption from the shame of defeat and, more importantly to them, food for themselves and their families.”

All around the table acquiesced : not only was it the imperial will, but it also made sense. Taking a few thousand warriors out of Dacia and reshuffling them on various borders of the empire was a good idea, especially if that meant that some heavy cavalry were sent to the east to get acclimated to the local weather in anticipation of the next war on that front. It would allow to reshuffle other units toward Britannia to keep order there while the main force was active in the far north.

Voltinius made a sign and the emperor gave him permission to speak : “Augustus, may I ask what naval means will be provided for this expedition ? I’ll need fleet support both to resupply my force and to prevent the enemy from escaping to the islands Agricola’s expedition reported both on the northern and western coast, especially the Hibernian island…”

With this first question the true work of planning the campaign started. It would go on for a few weeks before the legion would walk north under the eye of their emperor, the eagle of the ninth legion opening the march toward a new future for the whole island.

 

[Hecatee]

Ninth legion’s camp, caledonian lowlands, early winter 123 CE

Lucius Norvius Crispinus Saturninus was the tribune laticlavius of the ninth legion, its second in command. Actually he should have been back in Rome, but the Emperor’s decision to launch a campaign in the far north had meant a longer tour of service in the damp, cold and overall completely miserable place. Now the time had come to rest for a bit and wait for the arrival of his replacement, a younger man eager to make a place in the sun for himself. Saturninus would go back to Rome and a junior seat in the Senate, and go up the steps of the cursus honorum.

But for the time being all this was but a dream : he was still in the winter camp of a legion, in a place where a barbarian raid could still claim his life, as might a bad sickness brought by the gods-cursed weather.

Presently though Saturninus was warm, a cup of wine in his hand, seated in the temperate room of the bath house built by his men, surrounded by his fellow officers who chatted easily with each other. As for him, he was speaking with the commander of the whole campaign, the famous hero Voltinius, a man he’d learned to know and jealous in the past years.

Still he dared not let his feelings show, knowing that the man’s influence could make or break his further career. Voltinius and him were thus speaking as civilized men should, the topic being the unsuitability of the land they were conquering for roman lifestyle.

“Yet, Saturninus, one has to ask what it is that this land may lack ? Why can’t we seem to pacify those barbarians like we did the Gauls in the time of the divine Caesar, or the countless other nations who do Rome’s bidding ?”

Taking a sip of his drink before answering, Saturninus said “Well, legatus, how do you want to bring civilisation to savages living in such hovels as what pass for a house in the area ? Mud and sticks looks to be all that they might use, with some thatch for their roofs, and sheeps for wives, or so it seems. Where are the cities, where are the places where a man can spend some quality time. There's not even a whore in this damn region ! At least the southern tribes had some cities to begin with, places where they had people making jewels and ceramics and all sort of products that, while crude, helped them to elevate their spirit from the baseness of their coarse life. But here ? Have you seen a single fibula worth taking back to Rome for your domina, or anything else to ornate your domus ? It is truly similar to what the Divine Caesar encountered when he met with the Belgae during his subjugation of Gaul. Fortissimi viri sunt Belgae, yes, but because they were too far to be reached by the ideas of civilization ! ”

Voltinius looked thoughtfully at his subordinate before answering : “You may actually be closer to the truth that you may think, tribune. Indeed the areas of Dacia where we had the most success were those close to cities like Decebalus’ capital, and the divine Caesar’s campaign years in Gaul were mostly spent besieging oppida. Varus had no city to fall back on during his retreat toward the Rhine, as the tribes of the new province had not yet started to build capitals such as those Agrippa made for the Ubii at Colonia Aggripina or for various other tribes of Gaul and Hispania, using veterans and relocating the tribes from the hills to the plains… I’ll have to think about this… Thank you for the thought !”

The conversation would keep going on for some hours, but an important idea had been planted in the mind of Voltinius, he who would later be called “the founder of Britannia” by the anonymous writer of the Historia Augusta.

 

[Hecatee]

Diocaesarea, Iudea, mid-summer 124 CE


Esther was walking alongside the wide shaded columnated street central to Tsipporis, as she still called the city the Emperor had recently renamed Diocaesarea. The young women, just wed, was shopping for some ceramics to replace a broken pan and a leaking jug. It was also an opportunity to enjoy a day out of the fields where her husband and her were toiling the soil for one of the city’s notables.

Next to her carts pulled by oxen were going up toward the Acropolis, loaded with wood and stone for the new temple to the romans gods that Hadrianus had ordered built at the same time he changed the city’s name.

Of course she was not alone during this walk and her dear David walked alongside her, as was proper. She had been lucky her parents had chosen him for he was both handsome, strong and loving toward her. He was also a good Jew, listening the priests and following the Shaba as prescribed by the sacred laws. He was also brave, although he was not stupid enough to go provoque the Romans, still numerous in the region after the rebellion of seven years earlier.

There were now rumors going around that the hated foreigners had started to deport people from the villages to the big coastal cities such as Caesarea, but she had not met anyone who’d actually known one of the deported, and she doubted such acts had been committed. It would cause too much troubles and a new revolt…

Another rumor going round to which she gave more credence was the arrival of numerous fair skinned barbarians, young couples with children, who now lived in the cities or even sometime in isolated farms, settled there by legionaries who seized empty lands and gave it to the foreigners. Many were outraged about those actions, seeing it as a way for the Romans to limit the presence of the Jews in their own country.

Esther was not surprised, there were always people so conservative that any novelty was to be treated as something bad. But the foreigners were not enough, by far, and had already proved to be vulnerable to the sun, falling from heatstrokes or getting horribly burned skin.

As she spoke with a pot seller one of those barbarians came and waited for his turn. She used the time the merchant spent looking in his stock to study the foreigner. He was big, much bigger than her husband, and taller by a head too. His muscles were also indicative of great strength, more akin to a soldier’s than a farmer’s. Yet the dirt under his nails showed he too tilled the land of Judea to feed his family.

Presently the merchant came back with new jars and she picked one the right size, large enough that she would not need too many trips to the well but not so big that she would not be able to carry it home. Handing some bronze coins she concluded her transaction before leaving the shop, not without a last look upon the barbarian who had begun to try trading using what seemed very bad latin, at least what she thought to be the language of the conquerors of Judea...

 

[Hecatee]

Ninth legion’s camp, caledonian lowlands, late winter 124 CE

Caius Cassius Voltinius sat behind his desk in the wooden praetorium of his winter camp, surrounded by his closest officers who were seated in comfortable chairs. Winter had fallen, cold and snowy when it was not rainy, and hot brazier tried to dispel the damp atmosphere inside the command office. The hot, honeyed and spiced wine delivered by the personal slave of the commander was admittedly more effective than the charcoal burning in the bronze tripods, but no one complained about their effort.

Hanging on a wall behind the general was a map showing the progress made by the roman forces and what was known of the land ahead. The campaign had gone rather well at first, the Brigantes and Selgovae were still weak from their attempt at revolt, and had been rather quiet. Those few fools that dared attempt stopping or even simply slowing down the march of the legions had been thoroughly crushed. As a further precaution Voltinius had, as per an agreement with the emperor, demanded that each settlement gives a number of families according to its size, for resettlement in the Dacian lands.

Fighting against the Otadini and the Damnonii had been more difficult, as those tribes had well recovered from the fighting of forty years before. They also had the support of the Venicones, a powerful tribe living north-west of the lowlands, below the Graupius mounts where Agricola had won his great victory in the age of the despicable and damned Domitianus.

The camp of the ninth legion had actually been set up in the remains of the legionary base Agricola had founded on the Venicones’ territory, a stepping stone for the campaign of the following year that they were now planning. Yet Voltinius was uncertain.

The land was poor, barren even. Nothing grew on it but a short herb fit only for hairy sheeps and cows. Conquering it might simply be too much troubles and he might be better advised to found small colonies and fortress to protect the land he’d already captured and start draining the marshy areas around the narrower part of the land so as to make them safer and more productive. This proposal had been sent to the emperor, who was travelling somewhere in Africa, but no answer had yet been received by the general.

Suddenly noise from outside disturbed Voltinius’ thoughts. The door to the council room opened and a soldier came in, wet from the rain. Saluting, he gave the general a metallic tube sealed with wax impressed with the emperor’s personal seal. Dismissing the soldier and ordering that he be given food and dry clothes, Voltinius opened the tube under the watchful eye of his commanders.

There was no point asking them to get out of the room, so he began to read aloud the text written on papyrus in the ornate style of the imperial latin chancellery. The orders were clear : to find the best place around the narrower parts of the island to build a defensive wall designed to hold the barbarians at bay and to develop the necessary infrastructure to support its future garnison, to build roads, camps and settlements for the troops and resettled barbarians : familial ties were to be broken, villages split apart and distributed all over the conquered territories so that no one might recognize his neighbor, any previous loyalty forgotten and the delocalized inhabitants fully dependants on the Roman power. Settlers would also arrive from other places in the Empire to further dilute the local population. As for the tribes living to the north of the new wall, they should be raided and, as much as possible, exterminated to ensure the peace of the south.

Voltinius smiled grimly. The task ahead would not be pleasant, but it would certainly offer opportunities for incomes that had thus far escaped him : slaves would be sold, lands attributed according to bribes and resources taxed in ways that would finally make it up for staying so long in this cursed land. And when he’d come back to Rome it’d be to live in a house that would be the envy of all the senatorial class !

 

[Hecatee]

Sirmione, Northern Italy, early spring 126 CE

Voltinius was furious of the delay, but going south was simply too dangerous. A plague had come from northern Africa, beginning in Numidia. But the sickness had not stayed south of the Middle Sea and travellers met in Gaul had warned the former governor of Britannia and Caledonia that villages and town had been emptied by the illness : the victorious general had not wanted to catch it and had thus decided to wait for news in the villa one of his friend owned on a nice lake in Gallia Cisalpina.

He’d taken the opportunity to study all that he could find on the situation of the Empire, especially the situation on the Eastern and Danubian front. While he was just coming back from a long war, the only living owner of a grass crown was already longing for the next conflict. His stay in the villa had made it clear that what life he had longed for during the long nights of the northern winter was in truth not made for him...

But the Emperor had no wish for conflicts and was travelling around his lands, giving orders for new borders fortifications such as those he’d defined in the Aures mountains of Numidia, or for new aqueducts, temples and public buildings in the cities he went through.

A war with Parthia had been narrowly averted three years before, proof that the empire vanquished by Trajanus less than a decade ago was back as a threat, and some troubles in the newly conquered Dacian lands had been quelled without much troubles by the local garrison. Even the Germans were quiet, not having staged much more than small thieving raids in the night.

Hadrian was spending some quality time in his palace of Tibur, apparently looking after his succession : friends well in court had recently advised Voltinius that the palace was not safe, with rumors about an upcoming decision that might lead to some imperially requested suicides, the names of Cnaeus Pedanius Fuscus Salinator and his son being mentioned by some, the name of the highly respected brother in law of Hadrian, Lucius Iulius Ursus Servianus, being also whispered as a potential candidate for forced suicide despite his age and the prestige of his three consulships. If such men were in danger, a rather unimportant but too popular general might also easily receive orders of a similar nature…

The same rumors said that the eerily young new eponymous consul, Lucius Ceionius Commodus, might be the cause of this instability, as Hadrian might want to design him as his heir, thus causing a risk of rebellion since Fuscus Salinator or his son, backed by Servianus, could be seen by many as more legitimate than Commodus.

Imperial politics, the most dangerous game in the world, was becoming even more dangerous and that only contributed to make Voltinius even more angry against the world...