Sorry for the delay, but real life got in the way.
This update is also a lot longer than usual - I kept trying to find a nice place to cut it off but couldn't. Whether that's a good or bad thing I leave to your judgement.
And before you ask, Narnia was a real Roman town - tempting as it is to imagine Catiline talking to Aslan...
Part VII - The Battle of Narnia
"When I think on you, my soldiers, and weigh your deeds, I have high hopes of victory. Your spirit, youth, and valour give me heart, not to mention necessity, which makes even the timid brave. But if Fortune frowns upon your bravery, take care not to die unavenged. Do not be captured and slaughtered like cattle, but, fighting like heroes, leave the enemy a bloody and tearful victory."
Catiline’s oration to his army just before the siege of Narnia – Sallust, the Wars of Catiline.
Historians have long amused themselves trying to work out why, in the middle of a bitterly cold winter, with blizzards sweeping across the countryside, Catiline decided to leave the protection of Rome and lead two understrength, under-trained and ill-motivated troops into a snowstorm to confront a battle hardened army that outnumbered him by at least two to one. Although of course most strategists will allow that in many circumstances attack is the best form of defence, military logic does not suggest that Catiline’s circumstances in early 62 BC were examples of such circumstances.
Cicero, and indeed most writers since, have had little difficulty explaining this decision as yet another manifestation of Catiline’s disordered mind; a boldness and impulsivity that bordered on insanity and an ego that could not conceive of the possibility of failure.
However, as an explanation this remains unsatisfactory. Doubtless, Catiline was recklessly brave, but explaining all of his actions as merely the result of madness runs the risk of truly explaining nothing at all. Mentally ill he may well have been – and at a remove of more than two thousand years, we will never truly know the state of his mind – but for all Cicero’s protestations, Catiline had managed to forge a movement that spanned all sections of Roman society; had led a ruthlessly efficient coup that had made him master of Rome inside a night, and had managed to co-opt, contain or liquidate almost of all of his potential opponents within the city within a matter of months – including men like Crassus, whose power, influence and wealth vastly exceeded his own. Mad he may well have been, but he was also undoubtedly clever, charismatic, decisive and primed to exploit any weakness his opponents displayed. Before simply dismissing his sally as the result of insanity, the true scholar of history must attempt to see if there was, in fact, some logical - or at least semi-logical - reasoning behind his actions.
It is, of course, important to remember he was a gambler at heart. He must have realised that remaining in the city, whilst perhaps safer in the shorter term, was not a strategy that could be pursued forever. His support grew weaker every day; Scipio menaced him from the south, and there was every possibility that Murena could successfully storm the city should he reach it. Even inside the city, a successful a assassination attempt could not be discounted; and he would have been well aware that many of his wealthier supporters – possibly up to and including Crassus – would be coldly considering their chances should they attempt a coup attempt of their own.
By contrast, in the midst of his army, he would be guarded by well armed and (mostly) loyal men. He would be seen to be taking the fight to the enemy, convincing his wavering supporters that he was still in the fight and had not been backed helplessly into a corner. And, perhaps most importantly to him, leading his army personally showed he was, whatever else his opponents might say, willing to risk all for his cause; dying as a true Roman should in the line of battle. To a man like Catiline, steeped in the oldest and harshest traditions of Rome, only death or victory were acceptable. Far better, he may have reasoned, to die gloriously than wait, huddled in Rome, waiting for a killer’s blade or the judgement of an opportunist like Scipio.
And there was always the chance of victory. In the narrow passes of the Appenines, where snow covered ice-slicked roads, where blizzards reduced command and control to the bare minimum, the advantages of Murena’s numbers and superior training would be minimised.
It was, undoubtedly, an exceptionally risky gamble; and one that excited a curious mixture of bafflement, fear, and reluctant admiration, even amongst his staunchest opponents. Cicero, in particular, mentions it throughout his writings; indeed at times one is left with the impression that the politician, never overly noted for his bravery (although he could be courageous in extremis) was, despite his denials, somewhat envious of Catiline’s reckless boldness
It was, however, likely a sentiment not shared by many of Catiline’s own army; a mixture of poorly trained but loyal plebs, stiffened by a core of sicarii and Sullan veterans, and active-duty legionaries whose loyalty to Catiline had likely been obtained via a mixture of threats and bribery. However they felt, they proved willing to follow him out of Rome. and down the via Flaminia. The winter conditions hampered their march, and it was not until late January at the earliest that Catiline’s army reached Narnia where the road split. Here, one branch led to Interamna Nahars and thence to Fulginium , whilst the other led, more directly, to the towns of Casuentum and Mevania, before rejoining the other branch at Fulginium.
Catiline, of course, had no way of knowing which route Murena was using; the latter, via Mevania, would have been more likely as it was shorter. However, had Catiline decided to march that road, he might well have been outflanked by Murena should his opponent have chosen the other route, who would then have a swift march to the shelter and safety of Rome whilst Catiline’s army froze in the Appenines. The tempting source of action was to fortify Narnia, which was at least defensible – but even then, his forces would still be outnumbered by at least a factor of two, and more likely much more than that.
(As with most battles in the ancient world, determining the sizes of armies is as much about guesswork as it is a science. Murena likely had four regular legions, which would have equated to around 18,000 men in theory, whilst Catiline is stated to have had two legions, or around 9000 - although whether groups such as the sicarii had been folded into these, or acted as their own formations, is unclear. However, Sallust, Cicero and Varro all reference at various times Catiline's forces being significantly outnumbered; Varro at one point mentioning that Murena's auxiliary troops outnumbered his legionaries, giving a a total of perhaps 40,000 men, and Cicero alludes to the fact that Murena had five men to every one of Catiline's. Catiline was definitely outnumbered; and his troops were, on average, less experienced and of poorer quality, but comparisons more exact than that are impossible).
In such circumstances splitting his forces before he further advanced seems as if it would have confirmed any doubts his troops might have had about his sanity; and it probably speaks to his charisma that he was able to convince his officers and men to obey such orders. One legion, commanded by Porcius – half his army – marched down the road towards Interamma Nahars, whilst the other turned, and marched towards Casuentum.
In point of fact, Murena was indeed heading down this latter oute, and by the time Catiline’s legion reached Casuentum, Murena was only a few day’s march away. After a brief skirmish between scouting elements of the two armies, Catiline started to retreat, back towards Narnia, losing several hundred of his troops in a desperate rearguard action as Murena, knowing the killer of his brother and traitor to Rome was within grasp, urged his legions onwards.
Their sacrifice, however, gave Catiline time to fortify – or at least barricade – Narnia; conscripting the locals into his own forces. Amidst flurries of snow and howling winds, Murena forced Catiline back into Narnia, before surrounding the town with four legions. His own forces were low on supplies, and Murena likely realised that a forced march to Rome in this bitter weather, bypassing Catiline, would weaken his army still further. Far better to kill trap Catiline, put him and his traitors to the sword, overwinter in Narnia, recuperate, and then march on Rome to overthrow the remnants of Catiline’s regime.
Sources are almost unanimous that Catiline’s army was both outmatched and hugely outnumbered; with most estimates giving Murena at least five men to every one of Catiline’s. Catiline’s men fought with desperation; knowing the fate that Murena had dealt his prisoners in Claterna. Catiline himself fought in the front ranks alongside his men; always found, so Varro tells us, where the fighting was fiercest and ‘never once turning his back upon the enemy’. Other, less sympathetic writers describe him fighting less like a Roman commander, and more like a gore-slicked barbarian chieftain – or perhaps a demon.
For their part, Murena’s army knew that Narnia had to fall, and soon, lest they be trapped without shelter and supplies, facing the choice of marching either back along their route or towards Rome, in both cases with the prospect of Catiline’s army at their back. Urged on by their commander, and knowing that taking Narnia would likely win them the war, they launched wave after wave of attacks against the town walls. Unlike Catiline, Murena held back, coldly watching as his men attempted to batter down the gates and scale the walls.
Murena’s three assaults upon Narnia were only barely beaten back, with horrific casualties on both sides – Catiline was, we are told, down to barely eight hundred men; whilst Murena’s losses were likely in the low thousands. The weather itself played a vital role; a blizzard blowing across the battlefield hampering Murena’s attempts to coordinate his army and blunting the effectiveness of his assaults – a sign, Catiline is supposed to have claimed, of the favour of the Gods for his cause. Favoured by the divine he might well have been, but he would have been aware that another attempt to take Narnia would likely succeed. Most of his legion was dead or injured and those that remained were exhausted. Indeed, were it not for Murena’s self-indulgent slaughter of prisoners at Claterna, it is likely that Catiline’s army would have begged to surrender.
However, there was one thing Murena was not aware of. He was not facing all of Catiline’s army, but only half of it. Upon hearing that his commander was under siege in Narnia, Porcius turned his army around and marched back, towards Narnia; the inclement weather hampering any sort of scouting on the part of either army.
Porcius, realising that Catiline’s situation was desperate, decided on the sort of bold action his commander would have favoured. As dawn broke, his men, already exhausted from several days of forced marching, came upon Murena’s encampment. As Murena’s army gathered for another attempt to storm Narnia, Porcius ordered his own legion to advance. Catiline, realising that the decisive moment was now upon him, ordered whatever forces he could muster to sally forth. As the winter storm grew ever more severe, the three exhausted armies clashed; the engagement degenerating into a series of bloody, chaotic melees amidst the earthworks, palisades and earthworks of the siege; the snow rendering any sort of grand strategy impossible.
Porcius himself, we are told, died in the early stages of the battle; his horse breaking its legs as it tried to leap a trench; Porcius himself hacked to pieces in the bloody mud. Catiline himself was, Varro tells us, surrounded almost alone; and would surely have perished were it not for the desperate efforts of his bodyguard and his own ferocity. The battle hung in the balance for most of the day; the superior training and numbers of Murena’s forces slowly beginning to tell – until Murena himself, riding too far forward, was struck in the throat by a stray javelin; the victim of one of those arbitrary accidents that play such a role in history.
Seeing their commander fall transfixed to the ground, his exhausted, bloodied, cold and demoralised army withdrew from the battlefield. Their erstwhile opponents were in no condition to pursue; indeed, they were likely still outnumbered by Murena’s former army. But, as night fell, it was Catiline who claimed victory.
It had been a victory dearly won. Sallust estimates that a staggering three quarters of his army had fled or died outside Narnia – including Porcius, one of his closest associates. But it is unlikely he considered himself as in the same unhappy predicament as the ancient king Pyrrhus of Epirus, who had lamented that his victories ruined him more than his enemies. The immediate, and major threat from the implacable, vengeful Murena had been halted – indeed, as it turned out, neutralised forever. Within a week, the battered remnants of Murena’s army had split into three groups, no one commander able to hold it together.
One faction began a weary march back to Arpinium; aiming, it seems to overwinter there and then resume the war in the spring, under the command of a young aristocrat, a former military tribune by the name of Marcus Junius Brutus. Another group, appears to have been led by an old, senior Centurion referred to only as Marius, instead a attempted to go south, linking up with either Cicero at Brundisium or Scipio at Neapolis before, we are told, rather anti-climatically disintegrating during the harsh winter.
However, it was the third faction that provided to be the most noteworthy. It was led by a man whom was not even part of the army originally, but whom instead had joined Murena at Arpinium, and whom was famous – or infamous - even at a tender age, for his profligacy, his slipperiness, his debts and his unpredictability, as well as his scandalous, passionate homosexual relationships. As the other factions marched away, it instead marched back to Narnia – but this time, not as an enemy.
Instead, Gaius Scribonius Curio came to offer Catiline his support, his loyalty – and two thousand legionaries.
