Narius

By SamN

Note: This story is an alternate history to that which has actually happened at the end of the Ancient World and the beginning of the Medieval Period.

Chapter Seven: Northern Conquest

Brixellum, Western Roman Empire, 479

“So, with Odoacer captured, what is our next move, Sire?” Flavius Sextus asked as Narius and his generals crowded around a small table in Brixellum’s forum.

“The main campaign is to move north,” Narius explained, “secure Genua, Mediolanum, Genava, Augusta Vindelicorum, and the northern provinces.”

“Genava is a Burgundian city,” Urses warned, “we do not have the men to fight them.”

“Unfortunately, between Orestes promising them land and Odoacer attacking them, we may have no choice,” Narius replied, “I doubt they know who I am.”

There was a brief silence for a few moments before Narius began speaking again.

“Genava, however, will be the last city that we visit,” Narius continued, “If there is no apparent hostilities from the Burgundians, the mission will be a peaceful one.”

“We have no ambassadors, Sire,” Urses informed him.

“We will serve as temporary ambassadors until I can pick a more permanent nominee,” Narius said back with a sigh.

Flavius Sextus and Urses nodded in acceptance of the decision. There was not much of a choice as Narius’s campaign was a military one to crush Odoacer. No one had bothered to think that non-military men would be needed. But now, after actions taken by others, and Odoacer a prisoner, they had found that a diplomat was needed.

“What do we do with Odoacer and his followers?” Flavius Sextus asked, changing the subject.

“Until this campaign is over, they will be coming with us,” Narius said firmly, “They are to be chained and restrained. Their armor and weapons are to be placed with our supply wagons.”

“It will be difficult to guard them all,” Flavius Sextus commented, “and Odoacer, himself, seems rather disgruntled about being a prisoner. Wouldn‘t it be better to send them to a facility better suited to guarding them before continuing?”

“That would mean sending them to Rome,” Narius commented, “and it would require at least one legion marching them back.”

“It will require patience, but, if we have to fight the Burgundians as well as the remnants of Odoacer’s own tribe,” Flavius Sextus answered, “we will not have the men needed to both guard our prisoners and fight at the same time.”

Narius sighed and thought about this and looked down. Sending his prisoners to Rome would take time, and force him to remain at Brixellum for the immediate future. It would risk allowing the Sciri and Heruli to regroup and continue the civil war against his authority as Rome’s ‘Caesar’. At the same time there was already the risk that there would be a future conflict with the Burgundians, and Narius’s generals were right. If they did have to fight the Burgundians, he would need his full compliment of troops. He couldn’t afford to have them be divided between a possible war and guarding prisoners. Janus and the local militia’s could guard Narius’s prisoners much more effectively while the campaign was finished up.

“Very well,” Narius sighed, “Urses, your legion will be given the task of taking the prisoners to Rome. Send at least one rider ahead to inform Janus that you will be arriving with men to be imprisoned. That way the cells will be ready by the time you arrive, and you can begin your return to the ‘front’ sooner. We will await your return here.”

“At once, Sire,” Urses saluted and turned to carry out his orders.

That left Narius alone with Flavius Sextus and the Eastern Roman Empire observer, Illus. Narius then turned to his other general.

“General Sextus, with Urses headed back to Rome with our prisoners, it will be unlikely that we will be able to continue the campaign for the remainder of the year,” Narius spoke, betraying much of his own frustration, “I will therefore require your men to undertake the task of gathering supplies.”

“Of course,” Flavius Sextus answered with a slight nod.

“You are to remain close to Brixellum, however,” Narius continued, “Bedriacum is the absolutely farthest north that I will allow you to move.”

“Of course,” Flavius Sextus nodded and saluted, “I’ll also keep part of my legion here. That way we have the ability to respond any move south by Odoacer’s remaining followers.”

“Good,” Narius responded.

Genua

Odoacer’s nobles became immediately alarmed when a small group of men came limping up to the city walls. They had all come from the same general direction that Odoacer had marched in earlier. The leading noble quickly had the gates opened and rushed down to meet the men.

“What happened?” the noble asked urgently.

“We lost, my lord,” the man groaned, “we couldn’t beat Narius.”

“Odoacer? What happened to him?” the noble demanded.

“I don’t know,” the man answered, “I think he was killed.”

“Where is Narius?” another noble asked, “did he follow you? Are there any others who escaped with you?”

“There might be some others, but most of them were headed toward Mediolanum,” a different man answered, “we don’t know if Narius has moved. He hasn’t followed us, and we don’t want to be captured. We hope to make it to the Visigoths, Narius won’t attack them.”

The nobles sighed and nodded. The men then made their way through Genua and kept heading west.

That night, the nobles gathered in the appropriated home of a Roman noble to discuss recent events.

“We must leave Genua,” one noble spoke.

“And do what?” another asked, “Odoacer is likely dead, and our warriors are dead. What are we to do? Tell our elders that they must pick up a sword and fight someone who will do anything to eradicate us?”

“Many would,” the first noble commented, “and many of our young people near the Ister were never recruited into the army.”

“There aren’t enough of them,” a third noble told him, “our best option is to flee. Narius will kill us for being important and we don’t have the strength to fight him.”

“But our people?” the first noble questioned, sounding desperate.

“Are left in the hands of fate,” the second noble sighed, “Narius as likely already claimed my lands in Bononia. We won’t get anywhere without an army, and even if Narius isn’t moving now, he will be moving soon. We won’t have time to raise a new army.”

“What about some of our allies that Odoacer rewarded?” the first noble asked.

“Not strong enough to fight Narius,” the third noble commented.

“And with Odoacer dead, they probably won’t be to willing to help and could very well side with Narius,” the second noble added, “I’ve seen the refugees of Narius’s march. They won’t fight.”

“This land is our land,” the first noble said firmly, “I refuse to let some weakling take it.”

“We won’t stop you,” the third noble warned, “but you displaying foolish courage. Your safest options are to submit or flee.”

Rome, Western Roman Empire, Imperial Senate

Janus quietly walked into the Senate chamber to face a sea of disgruntled faces. The Senators were all disgruntled over the events that had so far dominated the Empire. When Narius claimed the Imperial throne he had promised that the Senate that they would have greater involvement in the Imperial government, but so far, little had really changed. Narius was busy with the war and the Senators were impatient for what the new government would look like and how it work.

Janus as Narius’s Regent in Rome continually promised that the government would be reworked once Narius had secured Roman rule a defeated Odoacer. This had managed to keep the Senators from launching a revolt, but little to increase their patience. Janus hoped, however, that the news given to him by a rider from Urses’s legion would fix that.

“And here is the stooge Regent trying to import on us ‘the Emperor’s’ lies on us,” one Senator spoke bitterly as Janus approached the center of the room.

Janus sighed heavily, knowing that even this would be tough.

“I again assure you that things well be set right in due time,” Janus spoke, “and that I’m sure that Narius knows of your anxiety. But you must be patient. In order for the Roman government to be reformed, Roman rule must survive.”

“We know that,” another Senator spoke up, “But Narius insists on being the reformer! If he wants to be so, give the Senate and the people the power! So far, all we’ve had is a repeat of the same sort of military Emperors that we’ve had for years.”

“When the war is over and Roman rule is secure, the process of reforming the government will begin,” Janus repeated, “and things have changed and you will not have to wait much longer.”

That attracted the attention of several senators, who were now curious that they did not have long to wait. Janus then carefully cleared his throat.

“A rider has recently returned with news from the war,” Janus spoke carefully, hoping what he said would please his audience, “He reports that the most difficult phase of the war is over. The Ostrogoths have agreed to obey their agreement with Zeno and will occupy Dalmatia, securing our eastern borders.”

Janus received only few half-hearted claps in response to that announcement.

“That however, is not the greatest news that has been delivered,” Janus continued, “Odoacer has been defeated and captured at Brixellum. The only part of the campaign that remains is to insure the loyalty of the northern provinces, which should be easy to establish with Odoacer as our prisoner.”

“Odoacer has been defeated?” a young Senator asked.

“Yes,” Janus answered, “General Urses will be bringing Odoacer and his captured warriors to be imprisoned in Rome. Given that Urses will have to return to Brixellum to finish the campaign, the Senate will be expected to help insure that the prisoners are properly looked after until Narius can deal with them.”

“When will the campaign end?” an elderly senator asked.

“The messenger did not say, I would assume that Narius is not certain of the timing,” Janus answered, “but we can be certain that Roman rule will be restored and that the needed reforms will be passed. All that is required is time.”

Brixellum, Western Roman Empire

Narius sat quietly at small desk in what had been the offices of the village mayor. Brixellum was so far the smallest village he had camped his troops in. Most of them were camped in the town’s small forum, while others were in the stables where locals kept their horses and cattle. Urses’s departure for Rome with their prisoners from the battle had freed up more room, but not much. The people of Brixellum had all welcomed Narius with enthusiasm, including a few people from Odoacer’s own tribe, and Narius did not want end up having crush an insurrection while his forces were at half strength. As a result he made sure that his men were as well behaved as possible.

“Enjoying the time off? Illus asked as the Eastern Roman Empire came up behind him.

Narius sighed and turned to face the man. Since his northward advance had been stopped to allow Urses the time to march the prisoners to Rome, Illus had become somewhat of an annoyance to Narius. Since Narius had not collected any new funds from Germanic tribesmen who had taken over Roman lands and villas, there was no money to count, and with Odoacer defeated, Illus had no reason to offer suggestions on strategy. With that, Illus had become a rather high ranking tourist. Thankfully, he caused no harm and seemed to be most interested in the landscape of the Italian peninsula.

“There is no time off,” Narius said firmly, “Odoacer’s supporters could try to advance south. With Urses absent I don’t want a major battle to be fought while I’m at half strength.”

“Even against a foe you’ve already beaten?” Illus asked, “I understand the importance of being alert and ready, but I also understand that there are times to be confident.”

“I am confident,” Narius responded, “but I will not allow that confidence to undermine competence. Too many generals have become over confident in their own strength and made fatal mistakes as a result. Even Julius Caesar made them.”

“I doubt you will meet Caesar’s fate,” Illus commented.

“Maybe, but I have no intention of testing fate and the will of God,” Narius said firmly, “Rome is no longer in a position to take the risks that Caesar took.”

Mediolanum

The first noble slowly made his way into the city where Odoacer had won the battle against Orestes and the Burgundians that had once secured the northern Italian provinces for Odoacer. Now, with Odoacer likely killed in battle against Narius, Mediolanum would be the southern most bastion for the Sciri and the Heruli, who were now really leaderless. The noble knew that he personally knew little about rallying men for a cause. He had been good at enforcing Odoacer’s orders with his small retainer of guards, but they would not last long against Narius, especially as the other nobles were now fleeing to the Visigoths in the hope of protection. He needed help, and he had come to Mediolanum to enlist the help of someone who could help him fight Narius.

The noble’s search for help took him to the location of Mediolanum’s bishopric so he could meet with an ally of Odoacer’s who had been made the Bishop of Milan shortly after Odoacer had defeated Orestes. He was met by a relatively young monk as he entered the church.

“Is there something that can be done for you, sir?” the monk asked.

“I must speak with the bishop,” the noble answered urgently, “It is of a matter of great importance.”

The monk gave him a puzzled look, but soon nodded and turned to lead him.

“If you will follow me,” the monk spoke.

The noble nodded and then followed the monk into the basilica style church. They carefully approached an elderly looking man praying at the alter.

“Bishop Glycerius, one of King Odoacer’s nobles wishes to speak with you,” the monk spoke to get the man’s attention.

The man then stood up and allowed the man who had preceded Julius Nepos as ‘Emperor of the West’ to more easily seen. The noble’s father had supported Glycerius firmly, and was bitterly disappointed when Nepos had forced him out. The noble hoped that the Burgundian would know how to deal with Narius.

“So, what brings you here?” Glycerius asked calmly, yet firmly.

“Your help is desperately Bishop Glycerius,” the noble spoke nervously, “Odoacer was defeated at Brixellum and his army scattered.”

“So, Narius has won the war,” Glycerius spoke sounding barely concerned.

“Yes,” the noble answered, “and many of the survivors of the battle are fleeing Italy. Your help will be needed to defeat Narius.”

“My ‘lord’,” Glycerius spoke carefully, “I became Emperor because of strong Burgundian backing. When they lost interest, Nepos was able to remove me from power. While I rejoiced at Odoacer defeating Nepos, I have heard many reports from refugees headed north from central Italy on Narius’s activities. Narius is an even firmer version of Nepos, and Nepos ‘beat’ me. I’m not about to fight a stronger version of someone I’ve already lost to.”

“But, he is a Roman tyrant,” the noble argued, “The Sciri and the Heruli have the right to be ruled by at least another German, not some Roman weakling.”

“If Narius were a weakling, he could not have beaten Odoacer in battle,” Glycerius informed him, “When Nepos removed me from the throne, I was fortunate enough to be given a very minor bishop’s position to keep quiet. I will be lucky as it is to avoid being killed by Narius. The last thing I can afford is to enter into another war with an angry Roman.”

The noble sighed heavily. He had hoped that Glycerius would be eager to claim the throne again.

“Could you at least offer some advice?” the noble asked.

“My best advice would be to go to one of the Germanic kingdoms beyond Rome’s control,” Glycerius spoke firmly, “They may decide to help you and will attack Narius, and at the very least, they will allow you to take refuge there, and you’ll be alive. If you fight, Narius will surely kill you, and if you submit, he may still kill you because of your noble rank.”

The noble only sighed.

Rome, Western Roman Empire

Urses arrived in Rome to find a practical celebration had been set up as he lead his prisoners into the city and began to march them toward the prisons. It came as a great surprise to him, but tried to keep calm. He kept his men marching in their ranks and making sure that the chained prisoners had no opportunity to escape. He kept the march along his original route to the old Praetorian Camp, which Narius had been converting into a mixed army camp and prison when took command of Rome’s legions. He found Narius’s regent, Janus waiting at the gates.

“The Senate seems pleased with Odoacer’s defeat,” Urses commented as he approached.

“The Senate is happy that Odoacer has been defeated,” Janus answered, “but they are not pleased.”

“What? Urses asked, shocked at the answer.

“Narius promised change when he claimed the throne,” Janus replied, “the Senators want that change and they want it now. They do not want the war.”

“If Narius didn’t fight the war, Odoacer would have taken Rome and there would be no change,” Urses answered, “Victory will make those changes possible.”

“The Senate does not see things that way,” Janus warned, “They merely see a continuation of policies that has more and more marginalized the Senate. They want proof of the changes Narius will make.”

“I don’t think those changes will be known until Narius institutes them,” Urses answered “General Sextus and I do not know his political plans.”

Janus only nodded.

“So, who did organize this celebration?” Urses asked, “If the Senate did not?”

That made Janus chuckle slightly.

“This has been a rather spontaneous celebration be the people since they learned that Odoacer has been beaten,” Janus answered, “It has been so long since a Roman has won a major battle that the people have had little to celebrate.”

Urses thought for a moment on Narius’s talks on history and commented, “I think the last time that happened was with the defeat of Attila the Hun in Gaul.”

“And Narius told me that even that was a wasted victory, all that was done after the battle was to try and scare our ‘allies’ into staying allies,” Janus added, “Most of them are now Rome’s enemies.”

“Narius will fix that problem,” Urses said confidently.

“Tell him he needs to move quickly,” Janus warned, “Public celebration will not keep discontented senators quiet for long.”

“Don’t worry,” Urses spoke, “We’ll be heading for Brixellum as soon as these people are locked away.”

Janus nodded and followed Urses into the camp to see to the placement of the prisoners inside their cells and that the local militia units were ready to guard them.

Brixellum

The summer was beginning to draw to a close when Urses and his legion rejoined the army. Narius quickly drew the men into an established camp to prepare to either continue the campaign or settle down for the winter. For now, the camp would only be a temporary one to allow the men to rest as comfortably as possible, while Urses delivered his report on what had been happening in Rome.

“So the people are celebrating the victory,” Narius commented with an amused smile.

“Yes,” Urses nodded, “but Janus warns that you must finish the campaign quickly, or you’ll have to fight the Senate.”

“I can’t believe the Senate would be so willing to risk treason to get change,” Flavius Sextus spoke, “Narius is the only one that will enable real change to happen.”

“It is perhaps why the Senate has been marginalized,” Illus spoke up, “Only one man can make decisions needed to advance the Empire. It is why there is only one Emperor.”

“The Senate is frustrated with a series of corrupt Emperors who used the military to increase their own power,” Narius corrected, “the Emperor must have power, but the best Emperors used it to serve the Empire. The Senate will be needed to insure that my successors serve the Empire rather then abuse it.”

“The republic had its own problems,” Illus commented.

“And that s why a compromise between the two will be required,” Narius answered, “and remember, it is not your job to offer political advice.”

There was a brief silence for a few moments before Narius continued speaking.

“We should move quickly, however,” Narius continued, “Odoacer has been beaten, but we can not give his survivors the time to regroup. That would only lengthen the war.”

“So what is our first move?” Urses asked, “we have a lot of territory to retake and a potential conflict with the Burgundians”

“We will move on Genua first,” Narius spoke, “it will secure our borders in the west and it is in a moderate enough climate that if we are still there come winter, we will have no problems.”

“Very well,” Flavius Sextus and Urses answered.

The forced march of enforcing Roman rule resumed the next morning. Nothing was done in Brixellum, but that would change as they moved away. The plan was to move through Cremona and Placentia before turning south toward Genua.

Genua

The first noble was heavily frustrated as moved about Genua. He wanted to leave as quickly as possible. He had heard rumors that Narius’s army was moving again, and marching on Genua. He did not want to be there when Narius arrived, but he had quickly hit problems. One was that a small group of refugees attempting to flee stole his horses, and left him without transportation. On top of that, the wagon that he was taking his family in was broken in all the chaos. Trying to get the wheel fixed and acquiring a new horse had taken up a few days.

“Come on, how long does it take to make a simple wheel?” the noble asked angrily.

“You don’t want something hastily made,” the wheel maker answered, “I’m working as fast as I can.”

“But Narius is coming here,” the noble said urgently, “I must make it to the Visigoths before he arrives.”

“Let him come,” the wheel maker commented, “You might do better to serve Narius then to act like a frightened enemy.”

The noble was about to answer when there came a large number of screams coming from streets outside. The noble glanced down to see that the wheel maker had returned to his work. He then sighed and moved out into the street. There he found many people running, hoping to make it to the far gate, and all of them appeared to be in some sort of panic.

“What is it?” the noble demanded, “What is happening.”

The noble received only one answer, but it was all that he needed to hear.

“He’s here!” one man spoke in a frightened voice and the kept running.

That one answer meant one thing. Narius and his legions had arrived at what had been the functioning capital of Odoacer’s kingdom. The troubles that had prevented him from escaping earlier had now insured that he would be captured. He couldn’t leave his family, and he couldn’t get them out before Narius could block all possible escape routes from Genua.

The noble then carefully made his way to the walls of the small city. He couldn’t flee and he knew that the small body of guards could not fight Narius’s army. As he made his way onto the section of wall above the main gate he found Genua’s mayor nervously pacing.

“Narius is here,” the mayor spoke in a terrified voice.

The noble looked out over the field and watched as Narius’s men began quickly moving to prevent anyone from escaping the city. The small number f guards that were there to stop criminals would not stop an army.

“I know what you did when Odoacer first arrived here to finish Orestes,” the noble spoke in a grave voice, “that will not be necessary again. I am the only thing of value that Narius will want. Open the gates and surrender the city, and I will give myself in.”

Outside the walls, Narius calmly watched as his men began taking up positions to cordon off Genua. The march had been fairly calm. There were one or two hold outs along the way, but they presented no challenge for his men. Most of the Sciri and Heruli that were living in villas along the route had sworn full loyalty to Rome. Now, he was ready to insure that any that still resisted Roman rule could not escape.

“Do you think they’ll fight?” Urses asked, noting that all the gates were shut and a few figures could be made out on the walls.

“I wouldn’t think so,” Narius replied, “the people of Cremona and Placentia didn’t fight. These towns and villages don’t want to be ransacked. It’s the ones who own large private villas that have ‘demands’.”

They all sat quietly on their horses while Narius’s two legions took up position to surround the city. Just as they finished moving into position, Genua’s gates opened, and a lone man emerged and walked toward Narius’s legions. The man was unarmed.

“It’s a truce bearer,” a cavalryman reported as he rode up and saluted, “He’s alone, Caesar.”

“Bring him before me,” Narius ordered, “alive.”

“Yes, Sire,” the cavalryman answered.

A few moments later, the man was brought before Narius, trembling nervously.

“Who are you?” Narius demanded.

“I am Heirtz,” the man answered, “I am a noble of the Sciri, and I ask that you do not attack.”

Narius eyed him carefully, and the man quickly continued.

“Genua holds no wish to fight,” Heirtz continued, “those loyal to Odoacer have fled to the Visigoths. All that remain are poor peasants.”

“And yet you are a noble,” Narius spoke to him.

“My family and I feared you would kill us and wanted to leave, but circumstances prevented that from happening,” Heirtz answered, “I have no wish to fight, and I beg that you spare my family.”

“Are there any left who will fight Rome?” Narius questioned.

“None in Genua,” Heirtz told him, “the city and I submit to your authority.”

“Very well,” Narius spoke, “but you must swear to obey Rome without question.”

“I swear,” Heirtz spoke quickly and bowing to Narius.

Narius the turned to Flavius Sextus and Urses, still seated on their horses behind him.

“Reform the men into a marching formation,” Narius ordered, “We will move in to insure that the government recognizes its true rulers.”

“Yes, Sire!” Urses and Flavius Sextus answered in unison.

That night, Narius, his generals, and the Eastern Roman Empire sat in moderately sized dining hall, mostly talking about what needed to be done next.

“You’re sure we can trust this man, this Heirtz?” Urses asked.

“He did surrender the city to us, and, there has been no resistance here,” Narius told him, “we can trust him on what we’ve already seen. As for what lies further north, he says he doesn’t know.”

“That’s what we’re concerned about,” Flavius Sextus commented, “He must know something.”

“Maybe, but he surrendered and pledged his loyalty to Rome,” Narius answered, “We can not do more then what we have done. He is a Roman subject, and unless he pays to become a citizen, he’ll stay that way.”

The others reluctantly nodded. They could just torture a man who’d pledged loyalty to them. They quickly moved on to the next topic.

“So, do we move on to Mediolanum now?” Flavius Sextus asked, “Winter isn’t to far off, but, considering that Genua was their functioning capital, and they surrendered it isn’t unlikely that Mediolanum will also surrender.”

“A possibility,” Narius sighed, “but a risk I will not take. From what we learned from Odoacer’s men, he charged into Genava during the fall, to find that the Burgundians would fight and lost most of his men to the winter. We’ll winter here at Genua where the temperature is much more mild and will move to finish the campaign next year. It will give us more time to train the new recruits that we raised in Ravenna that are still with us.”

“What about Janus’s warning?” Urses asked.

“If the Senate is going to be so impatient that they can not wait for me to restore relative stability, then I will disband them and put together a new Senate,” Narius said firmly, “Rome needs both a strong Senate and a strong Emperor, but it also needs them both to be smart.”

Augusta Vindelicorum

The lone noble who wished to continue Odoacer’s fight finally found an audience in the northern most reaches of what he called Italy. Large camps of Sciri and Heruli refugees surrounded the fortress town of Augusta Vindelicorum. All of them had been thoroughly frightened by Narius’s army, but there were willing to fight if lead, and that pleased the noble most. They were young and old, so much so that they wouldn’t be great warriors, and their weapons were generally pieces of farming equipment.

The noble watched as his ragtag army practiced against nearby trees and new he would need to acquire weapons somewhere that would be more effective. The metal workers in Augusta Vindelicorum had agreed to forge weapons for them, but it would take time for them to be made, and he feared Narius would move before then. He hoped to ride to some of the other villages and see if he could buy weapons there.

“Do you really think you can win?” a voice asked him from behind.

He turned to find Augusta Vindelicorum’s mayor standing behind the noble’s horse. The man looked seriously concerned.

“I would hope so,” the noble answered, “these are my people and we need a homeland. The Huns forced us out of our lands, we have moved here.”

There was a brief pause for a moment before the noble continued.

“And that is something Narius doesn’t understand,” the noble continued, “we want to be ruled by our own people. Not by lazy Romans who never work a day in their lives.”

“That may be where you’re hitting problems,” the mayor commented, “the lands you’re in were Roman long before the Huns invaded Europe. Men like Narius will not give up hundreds of years of history to give you a homeland.”

The noble was silent for a moment.

“On top of this, men like Narius, even men like Nepos, have seen have not been the action of small groups trying to find sanctuary, but groups out for conquest of their own,” the mayor continued, “I have seen many men like Odoacer. He was not content to settle in one small area, I’m sure he wished to rule over the Romans as well. Why else would he proclaim himself ‘King of Italy’?”

“We were strong,” the noble spoke, “and the Roman nobles are lazy. The lazy should not rule the strong.”

“I think recent events have shown that ‘strength’ and ‘laziness’ are not so easily defined,” the mayor warned, “Fighting Narius may not be your best choice.”

“Why do you speak this way?” the noble growled suddenly.

“I am a Roman citizen, sir,” the mayor answered, “I supported Odoacer because he was the only one that I knew of that could restore some sense of political order. Julius Nepos was far too friendly with the Eastern Roman Empire, which despite its money has done nothing for the betterment of Rome to deserve Rome being surrendered to them. Orestes was a corrupt and conniving man who sought to destabilize Rome by having his son rule. I thought Odoacer might have been able to calm things down so that we could recover, but now, Narius has proved to be stronger.”

“And because of this, you think he will be a good ruler?” the noble asked pointedly.

“I do not know,” the mayor answered, “but I do not know if it is wise to fight when you don’t have the strength to fight.”

“We must fight,” the noble said firmly, “We must.”

Genua, Western Roman Empire, 480

The winter passed by slowly. Weather conditions remained very mild around the Mare Internum port, and Narius spent most of it running his men through drills and preparing for the next campaign season. By the time spring came, Narius could sense that his men were spoiling for a fight with someone. This made him slightly concerned. With Odoacer defeated, and his army shattered, it was unlikely that they would face a situation where a battle would be fought, and that meant there was a danger that his plans to keep mindless destruction to an absolute minimum might fail.

“General Sextus, your men will lead the march to Mediolanum,” Narius spoke as he gave the day’s marching orders, “Urses will follow behind you.”

“Of course, Sire,” Flavius Sextus answered with a nod.

“Everyone is also to be alert,” Narius continued, “while major resistance is not expected, any remaining hold outs might have been able to regroup over the winter.”

“Of course, Sire,” Urses and Flavius Sextus answered in unison.

They then set about moving the men out. Units were set in protective flanking positions so that they could not be easily ambushed on the road, and once everyone was in line, Narius and his legions headed out on a road headed north. Heirtz and Genua’s mayor watched from the wall as they left. Both were rather surprised by what had happened over the winter.

“He didn’t kill me,” Heirtz spoke, some surprise still lingering in his voice, “I wasn’t even imprisoned.”

The mayor looked over at the Augustan banners now flying from the walls. They had been sewn over the winter and now shown the ruling nationality of the city. Very little had changed so far. He was expected to follow Narius’s orders, but other then that, nothing had really changed.

“I’d think that the rumors that Narius was only a mindless tyrant were only that,” the mayor commented, “He obviously wants Roman rule, but it doesn’t look like our people will be mindlessly punished the way other Romans have tried to do to us.”

“Hopefully things remain that way,” Heirtz nodded and continued watching Narius’s legions march north.

Augusta Vindelicorum

The last fighting noble looked out with a great deal of personal frustration. His ragtag force numbered less then one legion, and while he had managed to arm them, he could not fully train them over he winter. The cold and snow kept most indoors, and considering that most were either old or young, even being indoors didn’t entirely keep the cold off of them. The noble knew his best hope would be to use his men as archers and to strike suddenly and then disappearing quickly.

“You can still lay down your arms,” Augusta Vindelicorum’s mayor spoke, “I would be more then willing to negotiate with Narius for the sparing of your life.”

“No,” the noble sighed, “This is a fight for the salvation of my people. If I die, then that is the fate I’ve earned. I will not live as a Roman slave.”

With that the noble turned to the small body of men that he had gathered and motioned for them to follow him. The mayor only watched as the small force began heading south. They were too small in number and had no real training before they were being rushed into combat. And even if they had, the fact that most were old men who were not at the peak of physical service and the rest were too young and did not have the strength to carry on a war.

It was those things that really saddened the mayor. He could respect the noble’s cause and his bravery, but the people he had recruited were tired and had been trying to flee Narius’s advance. They had no overarching interest in fighting Narius, and in their condition, it was a lost cause. If they stood a real chance of winning, the mayor might have seen things differently, but to send the very old and the very young into a battle that they could not win because of personal beliefs was incredibly foolish in the mayor’s eyes, and he prayed that Narius would show mercy.

Mediolanum

Narius stood calmly as the commander of the small force of guards for the city of Mediolanum came out to his position as his men began establishing a camp outside the city. He was then surprised to see a bishop soon coming to follow the guard commander.

“Allow them to pass,” Narius ordered to the men around him.

After a few moments, the two men arrived in front of him. The guard bowed and the bishop seemed to look on.

“I am Captain Meinor, Captain of the Guard for the city of Mediolanum,” the guard spoke, “Mediolanum welcomes you, Caesar.”

“You do not follow Odoacer?” Narius questioned.

“I follow strength,” Meinor answered, “When Odoacer defeated Orestes here, I accepted him because my guards did not have the strength to fight him. Now, I will follow you.”

“Do you prefer my rule to Odoacer’s?” Narius asked pointedly.

“I have no preference,” Meinor responded, “I have seen over the years that leaders are generally interchangeable. The only things that change are nationalities.”

Narius slowly nodded, “and is your partner here? I trust he has not come to say I should leave.”

“I am Bishop Glycerius,” the man spoke, “I was made to take the Bishop’s seat here after Odoacer defeated Orestes.”

“Glycerius?” Narius spoke eyes narrowing.

“I have no ambition, Caesar,” Glycerius answered, “and no wish to fight.”

“Why didn’t you remain where Nepos put you?” Narius questioned.

“I had no choice in the matter,” Glycerius spoke, “Odoacer assumed that because I am a Burgundian, I would support Arianism, but we Burgundians are Catholics. I follow the Bishop of Rome.”

Narius slowly nodded and then asked, “are you willing to obey my commands, even if they aren’t in your best interest?”

Glycerius looked down. He sensed that Narius wasn’t going to execute him, but neither was he going to make things easy. He decided to be grateful that he was not killed outright.

“I will follow whatever is the will of Caesar, as an act to prove that I am in no position to be anything but a loyal subject,” Glycerius spoke.

“Good,” Narius responded, “First, what is the status of the fighting spirit of the Sciri and Heruli in this region.”

“Most of them have been fleeing north,” Glycerius answered, “I would assume to save their own lives. As a word of warning, there is at least one noble who still denies that he has lost, although, he headed north when I refused to help him.”

“Do you know where this noble is now?” Narius questioned.

“No,” Glycerius answered, “but he is likely to be operating in the area north of here, somewhere.”

“Very well,” Narius sighed and then continued in a very serious voice, “so long as you remain loyal to Rome, you may retain your positions. Betray Rome in any way, and you will meet a bloody end.”

That evening, Narius sat with his generals and Illus to discuss the latest developments in the campaign.

“This noble must be very foolish,” Urses commented, “If we’ve forced the Sciri and Heruli into a northward migration out of Roman territory, he couldn’t have gathered anything more then a handful of guerillas.”

“That is probably a given,” Narius answered, “the real question is what to do about it.”

“The best option would be to scout them out with cavalry,” Flavius Sextus spoke, “they could move and react faster to this group, not to mention that they could probably find this group easier the our main force as a whole could.”

“Why not draw them out?” Illus asked.

“That would take too long, and is too risky,” Narius dismissed the option, “we’d either have to sit still and wait for them to find us, which could give them the time to raise and train a force that could fight a real battle, or, we’d have to mindlessly attack villages and force them to come out of hiding, which could create a greater rebellion. Sextus’s idea is a good one. We will continue to march north while our cavalry scouts ahead. If they find these guerillas and the noble, they are also free to engage them at will, but I want the noble captured alive if at all possible.”

“At once, Sire,” Flavius Sextus and Urses answered.

The two generals then left to relay their orders, leaving Narius alone with Illus. Narius glanced at the Eastern Roman representative. The man looked slightly frustrated as he sat there.

“You look rather depressed that the people we’ve encountered have largely been loyal, or at least peaceful,” Narius commented.

“It is the lack of work that gets to me,” Illus answered with a sigh, “I am a general, Caesar Narius. If this were the army of the Eastern Roman Empire, I would have say in how the campaign is to be waged, but it is not. My mission here is to make sure your campaign provides my Emperor, Zeno, with the money to pay for the provinces you wish to buy from the Eastern Roman Empire. If I wished to spend my life counting other people’s money and valuables, I would have become a tax collector.”

“So, you do not like counting money,” Narius commented.

“Not in the present situation where the money is not mine, and when there events transpiring that normally, I would have some part in.”

“Well, do not worry,” Narius replied, “this campaign is in its final stages. Hopefully, by the end of the year, things will be peaceful and you will have returned to your post in Constantinople.”

“I hope so,” Illus answered.

Days Later

A young cavalry officer from Flavius Sextus’s legion, named Titus, brought his section of cavalry to a halt at the intersection of three roads. They were a heavy cavalry unit armed with lances, swords, and shield. The horse archers were following behind them in their units. Their mission to find this last rebellious noble while the rest of the army continued to march toward Augusta Vindelicorum had not been entirely successful. So far, they had found no sign of the noble or whatever force he had raised.

“We should have found them by now,” Titus grumbled, “we’re more then halfway to the Ister, and there has been no sign of them. And the main body is not that far behind us.”

“Maybe they turned and fled to the Alemanni,” one of his aides spoke up.

“We still should have seen evidence of such a movement,” Titus answered, “They must b encamped somewhere, or they are moving even slower then standard infantrymen would.”

“Shall I send his to Narius, sir?” the aide asked.

“No,” Titus said quickly, “save the report until we’ve found them.”

They then continued to ride forward, intent on continuing until they had caught their quarry.

Elsewhere, the small band of Heruli and Sciri ‘warriors’ continued to move south. Their pace was frustrating to the noble who hoped they could stop Narius. The younger ones rarely listened to discipline and the older ones were slowed by aches and pains. This slowed their march down to a snail’s pace and kept them on the main roads. This made the lone noble if he truly was right in fighting, but he continued to press on. He had started something, and he was now determined to finish it.

Titus and his branch of Narius’s cavalry units came to a halt again on the top of a small hill overlooking a road intersection below them. One road moved west while the other split off from the first road and headed north. The reason for their halt was something that Titus spotted in the distance. He quickly called for a scout to come forward.

“Yes, sir?” the scout asked as he appeared before Titus.

“I want you to ride forward and get a good look at those people there in the distance,” Titus ordered, “We might have finally found what we’ve been looking for. Try your best not to be seen. I don’t want them to suddenly turn and run on us.”

“Of course, sir,” the scout answered and then turned to ride along a route that would take him along a path parallel to the road that headed north, but tried to keep enough distance between him and the road itself that he would not be easily identifiable or immediately noticed.

Titus and his men watched from the top of the hill and were silently thankful that there were a few groves of trees the gave the scout some cover with which he could use to keep out of sight. The man rode out, and after a few moments began to ride back, taking a path that went in a wide ark so that he was not close to the road. He quickly rode before Titus and saluted.

“I believe it is them, sir,” the scout reported, “they’re being lead by one man who is dressed like a noble. Attacking them will not be challenge.”

“Hmm?” Titus asked.

“They’re made up of old men and young boys,” the scout answered, “he’s sending children and our grandfathers against us.”

Titus then turned to the rest of his men.

“We move to surround them,” Titus ordered, “We’ll see if we can talk them into surrendering first.”

The rebellious noble and body of men reached a turn in the road where they would actually have to turn east in order to remain on the road to Mediolanum and where the noble believed Narius’s army to be. As they began to turn, the thunderous sound of hoof beats rumbled down toward him and his group. He looked up to see a unit of cavalry come down the hill and quickly surround them before any of them could react. One lone officer rode right up to the noble and politely saluted.

“By the order of his Imperial Majesty, Caesar Julius Flavius Narius, you are to surrender at once,” the officer, Titus, commanded.

The noble looked at the gathered Roman cavalrymen, all ready with lances. They had him surrounded on three sides. He sensed that he couldn’t defeat them all, and at such close range, he doubted he could escape them. That is what finally broke his determination. This was a fight that that could not be won, and he was facing only a part of Narius’s army. He then looked at his men behind him. None of them looked eager to fight any more. The younger ones were visibly frightened, and the older ones merely looked grim.

“I would rather die free then live as a slave,” the noble said firmly and drew his own sword, “but I ask that you treat my men with honor.”

Titus screamed out a command, but it was to late as the noble thrust his own sword into his neck and fell from his horse. The noble rolled around slightly before finally dying. Titus sighed and positioned himself to deliver more orders.

“Disarm them,” Titus ordered, “we’ll camp and hold the m here until Narius and the main force can arrive.”

It took a couple of days, but eventually Narius and the main force arrived. When they did, Titus found himself face to face with his emperor.

“Where is the noble?” Narius asked.

“He killed himself after surrendering his men,” Titus answered somewhat nervously, “we covered his body with his horse blanket and laid him over there beside the road.”

He then pointed in the direction that the body lay. Narius looked at it for a moment and sighed.

“Take the body away from the road and bury him,” Narius ordered, “There is no villa or town close enough to do the job for us.”

“What of the prisoners, Caesar?” Titus asked, “They’re all old men or young boys.”

Narius turned to look at the gathered young men and old ones. They younger ones looked too young to have the stamina to fight for long and the older ones looked as though they did not have the strength to fight.

“We do not make war on our children or our fathers,” Narius spoke firmly, “We will escort them back to Augusta Vindelicorum. Hopefully they can be reunited with their families there.”

“At once, Caesar,” Titus saluted and moved to gather men to bury the now deceased noble.

Flavius Sextus and Urses came forward to stand by Narius. They watched quietly as Titus and a few men began to carry the noble’s body up the hill. After a few moments, Flavius Sextus spoke.

“Do you think this will end the fighting?” Flavius Sextus asked.

“If this was the last rebellious noble, then the fighting with the Sciri and Heruli is probably over,” Narius commented, “Then we’ll need to prepare for the possible fight with the Burgundians.”

There was a brief silence for a few moments before Narius continued.

“We will continue the march along the Ister for a while and must insure that Virunum is in Roman hands,” Narius continued, “That should secure our northern border, and insure that ‘war’ between Rome and the Sciri and Heruli is truly over.”

To Be Continued…