It seems like everywhere the Romans are fighting now turns into a free for all/chaos at some point. 
The Mauricians: A Medieval Roman novel
- Thread starter Pururauka
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Chapter 8 -IV-
Unfortunately, the temperature and the curved map were some of his lesser worries. His earlier assumption on how easy the conquest of the African Exarchate would be, had proven awfully wrong. Though he had already disrupted, if not outright stopped, the convoys sailing east to supply Theodosius, still the son of Maurice had remained unaffected in Egypt. Moreover, even the capture of the provincial metropolis was exasperatingly elusive. The three thousand men under his command outnumbered the local forces by almost five to one, and his fleet had had the ports completely blockaded for over a month, but there was still no breakdown in the enemy’s resolve. He knew that he could not be bogged down before the walls indefinitely; he was certain that the Exarch Heraclius had already called on Theodosius’ Berber clients to relieve Carthage. Perhaps, his men could defeat scattered groups that came near them; but that was a war of attrition that he knew he would be doomed to loose. God knows how many troglodytes will fall on us eventually…
He ran his hand over his beard and his face, wiping some of the perspiration away, sighing out in frustration. The news from Syracuse were not very encouraging either: having lost his self-control and jailing Marcellinus was beginning to have consequences that his thousand men garrison would be hard pressed to deal with. Worse still, was the excommunication that Pope Boniface had hurled at him, and publicized throughout Sicily, for having dared to imprison the Bishop. The fact that Theodosius had executed an Orthodox patriarch in the East seemed irrelevant to the irate Syracusan crowds that obscenely demanded their pastor’s freedom.
“Stratege, did you send for me?” called out a voice, recapturing his attention.
Glancing up, his eyes found doryphoros Theophilos at the entrance of his tent. “Theophile, come in,” he said cordially. Releasing the ends of the map, permitted the scroll to bend in and roll freely off the tabletop. He only scowled, aggravated.
“How are we doing with the rations?” he asked, getting up from his seat.
“We have enough for two months, at our current strength. The last cargo ship we intercepted boosted our supplies considerably,” explained his subordinate, standing at ease.
Domentziolus nodded in silence, before he began, as he walked around the improvised desk. “You are a young man Theophile; but I trust that you know your history.”
It was the doryphoros’ turn to assent. “Just what is necessary stratege.” At that moment, they were interrupted by a soldier bringing in four small pebbles. “Stratege, what you asked for…”
“On the table.”
The man made an affirmative gesture, and placed his delivery where indicated, before racing out without a word. Domentziolus resumed the dialogue, ignoring the rocks and the map on the ground: “You must know then, of Troy, and how the Hellenes won that war…”
“I do, stratege.”
“Well, it seems we find ourselves at a similar impasse; we need an innovative approach to capture Carthage. And believe me; I do not have ten years to figure it out.”
The doryphoros winced, and let out a suppressed chuckle. Domentziolus smiled in reply. “I’m not joking. If we don’t take this God forsaken mud ball soon, we’ll be overrun by the barbarians…Hence; I’m open to any suggestions…”
The young officer reflected quietly for an instant before presenting his recommendation. “Perhaps we should approach the Berbers ourselves, stratege. After all, we are in representation of the Imperial government. We could throw them some scraps after the province’s retaken.”
Really, now? “And what are we going to give them? Wheat? We ran out of gold long ago in Sicily! I had to sack churches to pay the men!” Domentziolus retorted.
Theophilus remained silent again, for a brief moment. “We could offer them to relinquish Septum [1], if they stay neutral. Caesarea [2], if they throw their lot in with us.”
The strategos turned on his heels, and paced slowly as he continued. “I’m beginning to think that we’re not going to achieve any lasting gains in here. Even Sicily is ready to blow up at any moment. And if we need to hand out what we recover in order to win it in the first place…then, in my opinion we’re no better than the barbarians...” For four fucking weeks I’ve been cooking my brains under this goddamned sun. The men haven’t been paid since we got here, they look eagerly at the boats to go home, some have already deserted, and the rest know that the Moors can fall on us at any moment… Shit Phocas, what were you thinking?
He started to voice his thoughts aloud, without noticing the messenger that had entered the pavilion; “Even if we manage to take this cursed city, Theodosius has already won a much bigger granary by securing Egypt. We’d be trying to win the race by taking an old horse from him. And how long could we keep it without reinforcements from Constantinople…depends on my brother’s mood, I guess…” He ruminated over the letters dispatched to The City, and how they had gone unanswered thus far. The loss of Antioch and the war in Cappadocia may rank higher on Phocas’ priorities. Too bad for us.
“Ahem…stratege; an urgent message from Sicily” the courier informed him, clearing his throat in order to be noticed.
Stopping on his tracks, he gestured the man to approach him, took the epistle from him, and dismissed him. “Carry on Theophile,” he indicated, as he untied the string around it, and started to read.
“The only other option stratege, is to attempt a frontal assault…one more time. But our lack of appropriate weaponry and siege equipment has already become notoriously obvious since our failure last week. We have no guarantees of success this time either.” Domentziolus did not need to be reminded, how the embarrassing defeat they had suffered at the hands of the provincial guards when trying to storm the southern section of the wall had only soured the spirits of his entire expeditionary force.
But he had only half heard the doryphoros’ remarks. As he kept on reading the missive from his legates in Syracuse, his worries began to dissipate, and his facial expression changed. A new opportunity to truly affect the outcome of the war had presented itself. The option he had discarded earlier had resurfaced, in a much more appealing light. This, this is it…
“Stratege?”
“Theophile…the dog has turned on its master. Prepare the men to sail back; Italy now looks like a much better place to spend our summer at.”
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[2]Caesarea at Mauritania.
Pururauka
Well on the bright side it does mean that N Africa is relatively safe from Domentziolus forces. Also about 3000 men aren't likely to be a big factor in Italy. However it will make maintaining any sort of order in Italy and mean yet more chaos with them being added to rebellious Lombards and invading Franks.
Steve
Well on the bright side it does mean that N Africa is relatively safe from Domentziolus forces. Also about 3000 men aren't likely to be a big factor in Italy. However it will make maintaining any sort of order in Italy and mean yet more chaos with them being added to rebellious Lombards and invading Franks.
Steve
Things are certainly getting delightfully messy...
I wonder if Big Dom will attempt to suggest that Tiberius and Theodosius' son be pardoned in exchange for a peaceful surrender of Italy to the loyalists? Should things really be going badly with the Lombards, I can see this course of action perhaps being the most sensible one...
Should anyone be interested in reading it, I've posted my dissertation about Egypt under Justinian and Justin II here.
I wonder if Big Dom will attempt to suggest that Tiberius and Theodosius' son be pardoned in exchange for a peaceful surrender of Italy to the loyalists? Should things really be going badly with the Lombards, I can see this course of action perhaps being the most sensible one...
Should anyone be interested in reading it, I've posted my dissertation about Egypt under Justinian and Justin II here.
Hmmm. I'm not sure exactly what happened in Italy to change his mood, but I imagine it has something to do with the Lombards. Either way, it doesn't seem like this is going ot end well for Theodosius...
definitely sounds like he has heard of Gisulf and the lombards raising their ruckus in the north. If he gets there and then Clothar gets there too. . . it will be a nice little four way war going on, then maybe we could see tiberius ally with clothar or Gisulf against the Phocas-ians or more likely dom and tiberius join up against the barbarians after things in the east go poorly for Phocas
Chapter 9 -I-
“…to allow our beloved Augustus, to authorize the beginning of these races!” cried out the announcer at the top of his lungs, before the assembled throngs on the tribunes exploded with cheers: “Phocas!” “Ave Auguste!” “Basileus Basileon Sebasto boithei!” He stood up, holding the white mappa in his right hand, undid the folds in the jeweled loros he was wearing with the other, and having walked to the end of the marble Kathisma [1], stretched right his arm out, over the track, making the crowd fall to silence. Not one sound could be heard, with the exception of the occasional horse neighing. It actually is incredible, how easy these vipers can be calmed. The mob of ungrateful bastards…if they only had one head… he thought. With popular anticipation building up, he quickly threw the mappa down, signaling the start of the day’s contest.
The eight chariots, adorned in the colors of their respective demes and pulled by four steeds each, dashed forward. Instantly, the roars and the applauses of the crowds blasted the previous stillness, shaking the floor of the Imperial box itself. Chuckling, the Emperor walked back to the throne, and took his place next to Leontia. To his left, stood Alexander; behind them, the palace eunuchs, a handful of excubitors, and surrounded by the a few members of the clergy of Hagia Sophia, sat the old, and ill, Patriarch of Constantinople, Cyriacus. Signaling to one of the eunuchs, Phocas turned his head slightly, while asking, “Symmachus; bring us something to eat, and drink, would you?” The beefy servant bowed low, and departed swiftly.
Picking up where he had left before the entertainment began, the Caesar continued. “As I was saying then, that is what Zeno did a hundred years or so ago” he casually commented, in a moderate tone, turning to the Comes Scholai. “And now, I could care less about the way the Italians fare. Think about it; we’ll be killing two birds with one stone.”
Alexander shook his head slowly, as if allowing the comments to settle somewhere in his brain, before answering. “We’ll Kyrie, there is something that we need to consider; do we antagonize the Pope in such a manner? We’ll never dislodge the Avars from the peninsula once we’ve won the war.”
The ovations from the Sphendone[2], where most of the Venetoi, supporters of the Blue deme, were seated, overwhelmed the sound of the Emperor’s voice momentarily; one of the Green chariots had been pushed against the wall, had had one of its wheels shatter and the driver had been flung over his horses, which trampled him to death in short order. Take that, Prasinos [3] son of a bitch. The handlers waiting by the open gates leading to the track, rushed to catch up with, and calm the beasts, before the rest of the racers ran them over. Tittering, he repeated himself: “Here is the thing Alexander; as we all like to say, God works in mysterious ways. I look at it in this fashion: Gregory opposed my decision on the ecumenical question, and now he is dead. The new Pope is nothing but a tool of Theodosius, I am sure that the Avars will once again find us an Orthodox Pope; someone that will guarantee the loyalty of the West…”
Breathing heavily, the fat eunuch walked back in, carrying a large silver bowl with a lid on it. Behind him, came three blonde girls, perhaps Sklavenoi slaves, with a small table, two smaller vessels, three emerald encrusted cups, and a large golden pitcher. The steward directed the young women, with single word commands in Greek, as they set up the table in front of the Emperor, arranged and filled the chalices with wine, placed a bowl with bread in place, and surrounded it with several olive oil filled saucers. With their task completed, they were shooed away by Symmachus, who bent low once again, and stepped back in silence.
Phocas grabbed the goblet closest to him, took a sip and continued to watch the race, as he said: “Leontia, Alexander, please help yourselves.”
“I’m not hungry at the moment” replied the Empress, while she rested her head on her hand, leaning to her left side. No sooner has she finished the sentence, at the foot of the Kathisma, another of the Green chariots was cornered; the stallions broke free and cut their way across towards the Spina [4], while the cart with the driver crashed against the marble base of the box. Another one! Great!
“Did you see that? …Ah!...Fine. Suit yourself,” he answered, clapping his hands. “Alexander…”
The Comes nodded slightly, grabbing a piece of bread from the bowl and dipping it in one of the oil filled saucers, before he continued, “my only concern at this point Kyrie, if I may say so…” he paused looking at Phocas expectantly. He nodded, as he took another gulp. “My only concern is as to the provenance of the funds to satisfy the greed of the barbarians. We can barely keep the pace of the subsidies, and Italy at this moment is not as appealing to them as Dalmatia and Dacia. There, they don’t have the Lombards to deal with…”
He knew that they were still in trouble. Most certainly, the situation could still be saved, but it would take more than a regular, or even mediocre, exertion to regain the initiative. The loss of Egypt had forced Constantinople to exhaust the grain in the state warehouses. In spite of the effort that had been made to import grain from Anatolia, and Hellas, and even the attempts at cultivation that were made in the open areas of the city between the Old Wall and the Land Walls, cheap food would very soon become scarce. Securing Cappadocia and penetrating Armenia would not win the war; and if Bonosus was beaten, God forbid, there was no other army to stop the Persians from reaching the Aegean. The levies that had been called from the European provinces were still being gathered, and still only numbered about five thousand men. Moving south from Cilicia, Syria was lost. Not only had the heathens secured Antioch and its surroundings, but had advanced as far south as Antarados [5] and Emesa [6]. In the meantime, the forces of the son of Maurice had recently seized Gaza in Palestine, and landed without opposition in Cyprus. And after a good start in Sicily, his brother Domentziolus seemed bogged down before the walls of Carthage. Really, the only source left to conduct counterattacks and offensive operations were the Illyrians and Praesental armies, under the commands of Comentiolus and Priscus respectively. But to move them without the Avars occupied otherwise would be suicidal; thus his newest proposal: have the Avars invade Italy “on the Emperor’s behalf,” and do away with the Lombards and all the Romans who rallied behind the “child.”
The Comes tore another piece of bread off, and soaked it for a few seconds; the bread saturated with olive oil before being immediately consumed. “They might expect us to double the payments, in order to finance their expedition, or to sweeten the deal in some other manner” he said, swallowing the bite.
Phocas guzzled down whatever wine remained in his cup. “I’ve already thought it through. I knew that Constantina’s daughters would be useful, at some point, that’s why I kept them alive. I’ll send the oldest, Theoctista [7], to the Kaghan, and ship off enough money for two years’ worth…as to its provenance; we can collect it from all of the unscathed provinces.” As he concluded his comment, another chariot, one of the Blues, had attempted to overtake one of his competitors by passing him on the left side, next to the Spina. The attempt failed, as the wheel was pressed hard against the rock ledge, causing the axles to push against the spokes, breaking them, and making the cart to turn abruptly, with the driver landing, head first, at the feet of the bronze babies, Romulus and Remus, sucking on the She-Wolf. The acclamations of the Greens were not long coming. Damn!
“It seems like a good plan indeed Kyrie. Once we move the troops from the West, we’ll be able to crush the Persians in Armenia, and if you would allow it, I’ll lead the expedition to retake Syria myself” Alexander pretentiously proposed, after taking another bite of oiled bread.
“Alexander…Syria doesn’t really bother me right now. What I need is to have enough forces to move, retake, and hold Egypt, and keep The City stable. We wouldn’t want to risk another episode like the ones we had…Once we’ve secured the grain, and have the home front calm, we’ll deal with the remaining slaves of Chosroes” the Emperor informed him, pouring himself some more wine.
“We know Kyrie that you have to win; you have such great plans for the Empire. God must surely grant you the final victory” the Comes remarked. “These times are just times of repentance; for the Jews have brought down on us all of the forces of Satan to bear…But we shall overcome them.”
One could technically say that the campaign to Christianize the unbelievers had backfired. But such ridiculous thoughts could only come from a heathen or a heretic; not a true Orthodox Catholic Christian like himself. Damn Jews would’ve betrayed us in any case; it was just a matter of time.” The sudden coughing fit of the Patriarch made all of them stop the conversation, and refocus their attention from the remaining chariots, to the Bishop of Constantinople.
“Holiness, are you well?” Alexander asked aloud, approaching the preoccupied priests, followed closely by the Empress. Phocas thought about getting up, but desisted. He remembered the reason why he had had the sick man brought to the Hippodrome; he just enjoyed the sight of his consumed frame, exposed to the outside air. The ungrateful bag of bones…even after I allowed him to be oikoumenos, he intercedes for Constantina, and calls on me to pardon the rabid rabble…maybe that’s the just punishment for your arrogance old man; maybe the Almighty has deemed it necessary to remove you from my sight. With the coughs continuing and getting drier, one of the priests approached him, on his knees, before petitioning “Please Kyrie, we must return the Patriarch to the Great Church…we can tend to him better there…”
Whatever. Waving his hand slightly as he finished sipping loudly, he retorted, “sure, sure. He’ll miss the end of the race…but that’s his loss.”
“Thank you Kyrie!” the cleric cried out. Soon after, the priestly party departed, escorted by Alexander and two of the excubitors present, but Cyriacus’ hacks continued echoing down the hall leading away from the Kathisma, in spite of the noise from the delirious aficionados.
“You could at least pretend you care” chastised him his wife, returning to her seat.
And they wonder why I drink. “Bah…” he said dismissively.
The concentration on his resentment, had kept Phocas from noticing that the Greens had lost yet another of their drivers. Down on the track, the last three Blue chariots continued on, in the second to last lap, but still behind the opposing deme’s remaining one. The Prasinoi jeered and hissed at their enemies, and minutes after the Patriarch had left, a brawl broke out where the two factions met; at the end of the Sphendone and the beginning of the straight tribunes. Leontia rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. Phocas laughed out loud. Now, the going is good. “Symmachus! More wine!”
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[2] Curved tribune at the southern end of the Hippodrome.
[3] One of the Prasinoi; a member of the Green deme.
[4] The middle barrier of the racetrack, where several sculptures and monuments brought to Constantinople by Constantine were placed; such as the snake tripod from Delphi, an Egyptian obelisk, a statue of Romulus and Remus, as well as an Heracles by Lysippos.
[5] Modern day Tartus.
[6] Modern day Homs.
[7] IOTL she was executed along with her mother and her two sisters in 605. ITTL she is around 7 years of age and still secluded in the monastery along with her younger sister Cleopatra.
Great update! Another chance we find out what happens with the negotiations between Theodosius and the Persians soon?
Poor old Italians. Interesting that Domentziolus is now going to be walking into a charnel house without Phocas knowing about it. I can definitely see a Domentziolus/Tiberius alliance beginning to form now, because a four-way war just seems untenable, and you've specifically said that you have plans for Tiberius as things go on.
I did think you were going to kill Phocas off them, I must say, but still he continues! I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's nice to see Phocas as a fully rounded character here, who's actually making some vaguely sensible decisions.
I did think you were going to kill Phocas off them, I must say, but still he continues! I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's nice to see Phocas as a fully rounded character here, who's actually making some vaguely sensible decisions.
Basileus Giorgios
It does sound very bad for the Italians, presuming Phocas's plan works. Also sounds like he's seriously losing the plot and likely to stir up markedly more opposition. There is definitely a rift with the current Patriarch and the way the emperor is treating him could well cause problems. Plus it sounds like his position is still very fragile with the loss of Egypt and what happens when the grain warehouses run out? Also that Theodious has taken Cyprus, apparently without fighting suggests that he is able to threaten the coastline of the eastern empire. If he could get an army into Greece and isn't back-stabbed by the Persians it sounds like the wheels could come off Phocas's position.
If the Avars can be persuaded to invade Italy that would be a huge boost to his position. Less in terms perhaps of the loss of Italy for his opponents than removing them as a threat. But would the entire nation go? Especially since Italy is smaller and poorer than the lands they now threaten. A 7 year old girl from a deposed family isn't going to be much reward and a move west will mean its more difficult to keep pressure on the eastern empire.
Also if they do move how long will it take? Sounds like Phocas might be willing to do a Samson and pull everything down with him if he goes down but it might not make much difference.
It might even help in some ways in that the 1st people who will have to fight the Avars would be the Lombards opposing Theodicus. It could be that survivors of them could end up fighting with loyalist forces against the Avars. Also as predominantly nomadic tribes [IIRC] they won't be at their best in a narrow and mountainous peninsula. However likely to be pretty bad for the Italians at the very least. Theodicus might end up winning the east [and the Persian problem] but losing his base in Italy.
Steve
It just seems like the stage is being set for this to blow up in Phocas' face....
Yes indeed. We’ll get there in about a couple of updates.
Italy just happens to be sort of in the middle, literally, of it all.
I must admit that I’ve gotten to like Phocas, in a certain way anyhow. At the very least, he’s trying to put up a good fight in the face of increasing odds, instead of drowning his problems in wine altogether…
Good catch.
Sorry to keep you in suspense!
Anyhow, to all my cherished readers:
Although the next update is half complete, I am afraid that I will not be able to post it for a couple of weeks. More like 3 to be exact. I am finally taking a vacation from work after three long, tedious, and exhausting years. I'll be away for 2 weeks, after that I'll need another week to complete the next installment, to a degree that I'll be personally pleased with.
Thanks to all of you, and hope we meet again at the end of the month!
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