by James Mace
“That last time I was here, my own soldiers wished to hang me as a traitor,” Aquila grumbled. “They might have done so, had General Celsus not intervened.”
The legate was filled with many bitter and resentful feelings regarding the previous war. Otho had been the lawful Emperor of Rome and the Vitellians, who dared to now call the Flavians traitors, had committed mass treason.
While General Primus laughed off Aquila’s suggestion that, if unleashed, his legion would destroy Cremona, the legate knew full well the simmering wrath of his soldiers. In fact, all of them hoped the people of Cremona and their garrison would be stupid enough to defy them. One way or another, they would have their revenge.
A deep sense of gloom hung over the Vitellian Army since word spread regarding their commanding general’s betrayal. And no sooner had they found the Flavians, they were ordered to retreat with scarcely a blow struck. Now they were taking the excruciatingly long route to Cremona, all the while looking over their shoulders lest the Flavians catch them spread out in what had become a vast and disorganized column, stretching for several miles along the Via Aemilia. It was a tribute to their discipline and tenacity, though, that the entire army had not simply crumbled. Casualties, discharges, and reassignments to the Praetorian Guard may have depleted their numbers, but they had lost none of their fearsome resolve. After all, they were still the Army of the Rhine. Despite the repeated blows to their morale, they moved with a purpose, achieving an astounding sixty miles the first two days.
All were aware of the two legions waiting at Cremona. Should they be overrun before the Vitellian forces arrived, it would spell disaster. Conversely, should they succeed in outracing the Flavians, they would add eight to ten thousand legionaries to their ranks, along with several hundred cavalry.
As he led his regiment in the vanguard, half a day’s journey ahead of the main army, Tribune Lucius Artorius was particularly vexed by Caecina’s betrayal. He had been one of the two most responsible for getting Vitellius onto the imperial throne in the first place. How could he so callously abandon his oath while his soldiers remained loyal? Regardless of the circumstances surrounding Caecina’s treachery, all that mattered now was getting their troops to Cremona. At Centurion Liberius’ suggestion, Lucius rode back to speak with General Fabius, the de facto leader of their division.
“Sir, the enemy has no troops south of the River Padus,” Lucius observed. “I recommend taking my regiment ahead to Cremona. We need to inform the garrison as soon as possible that they have reinforcements coming. If the Flavians reach the city before us, they could simply cow them into surrendering, should they think we’ve abandoned them.”
“Yes, well, we cannot allow that,” Fabius said, with a nervous nod. The legate was still struggling with the concept of commanding such a vast force, and he hoped General Valens would rush to Cremona to assume command.
Upon returning to his regiment later that afternoon, Lucius arrayed his companies into two marching columns and began to make haste towards Cremona. Halfway between the cities of Parma and Placentia, the tribune’s spirits soared. He saw the first welcome sight in many days. There was no mistaking the gleam off helmets and armor, yet the tribune knew it was impossible for the Flavians to have gotten around and in front of them.
“It would seem General Valens is joining us after all,” Centurion Liberius, said with a relieved smile.
“Hard to tell just how many men he’s brought with him,” Lucius remarked. “But I would say at least two legions.”
It was, in fact, a single legion, the Fourth Macedonia, along with vexilation cohorts from seven other Vitellian Legions. The rear guard of the column had turned about to face the unknown force coming up behind them. They quickly broke into cheers once they saw the standard of the Siliana Regiment of Horse.
“By Mars and Victoria, you are a welcome sight!” their chief tribune announced, as he rode out to meet Lucius and Liberius. He was accompanied by a number of staff officers. “We were dispatched immediately, once we heard about General Caecina’s betrayal. A pity that my own legate should prove to be a traitor.”
“Is General Valens not with you?” Lucius asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” the chief tribune replied. “A damned stomach illness has overtaken him. He made it as far as Florentia, but he can’t stop shitting and vomiting long enough to mount his horse. About half of the remaining division is there. The rest are holding in reserve at Narnia, along with most of the Praetorian Guard.”
“Did he leave instructions as to who he’s leaving in command?” Liberius asked.
The chief tribune shook his head. “No.”
“General Valens hopes to be well enough to ride within a few days,” a staff tribune spoke up.
“The trouble is, we will most certainly have a fight on our hands before then,” Lucius remarked. “The Flavians are headed for Cremona. If they get there before us, all of Italia north of the Padus will be lost, and we’ll be cut off from any reinforcements from Germania or Britannia.”
“That explains why you’ve come this far so quickly,” the chief tribune noted. “How far back is the rest of your column?”
“About half a day,” Lucius replied. “General Fabius sent us ahead to inform the Cremona garrison and reinforce them as needed.”
“Sir, we should send our legionary cavalry with them,” a centurion said to the chief tribune, who nodded in reply.
Lucius did not know the details of the dispatch Fabius had sent to Valens, though it now appeared to have been rather vague, as had the commanding general’s orders to the reinforcements he sent on ahead. It seemed that all the chief tribune knew was Caecina had defected, and that a Flavian division had reached Patavium. That enemy forces were now rushing to take Cremona was unnerving, and made their current mission all the more urgent.
“Our original intent was to take the road to Placentia before heading to Cremona,” the chief tribune said. He looked to his master centurion, who appeared to be acting as both his second-in-command and his senior advisor. “We should break off and head due north, cross-country.”
“Sir, if you take this road as far as Ad Fonteclos the ground is a lot flatter,” Centurion Liberius spoke up. “You’ll also avoid any river crossings that way. It’s not as quick as marching along the roads; however, the distance of your journey will be halved.” As no one in the Rhine Army was familiar with the terrain, it was good to know they had some soldiers who knew the region.
“Yes, thank you, centurion,” the chief tribune replied. He extended his hand to Lucius. “We’ll see you in Cremona. Let the garrison know we’ll be there by tomorrow evening, should Fortuna favor us.”
It was now the afternoon of 23 October, and the streets of Bedriacum were lined with thousands of cheering citizens when the Flavian Army crossed over its bridges. Unlike the Cremonans to the west, the populace here hated Vitellius and were hopeful Vespasian’s army could succeed where Otho’s had failed.
“We need to reestablish the stronghold here,” Primus informed his senior officers. He surveyed the ruins of the fortifications Otho’s army had erected. “Though I’d like to end this war quickly, we must prepare ourselves for a protracted campaign. Bedriacum is a natural supply base, and I want it built up into a fortress.”
“What of Cremona?” Legate Lupus asked.
“We’ll send a massed mounted reconnaissance forward,” the commander-in-chief replied. “As quickly as we managed to reach Bedriacum, it will take the Vitellians at least a few more days to arrive at Cremona.”
“And if the garrison refuses to surrender?” Aquila asked. “They have two legions posted there with a sizeable force of cavalry.”
“The only way across the River Padus is a bridge just southwest of the city,” Primus stated. “It is wide and made of stone. Tearing it down will not be practicable. We can, however, blockade it with siege engines and archers, thereby hindering any reinforcements from the south. The closest crossing to there is at Placentia.�
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“Even then, they’ll have to cross the River Addua,” Arrius noted. “The total journey is at least eighty miles.”
“By which time we will have smashed the walls of Cremona into dust,” Primus said grimly. Unlike Aquila, he was reluctant to raze any Roman cities no matter how defiant.
“I can leave two regiments behind to patrol the outlying regions,” Arrius said. “That will still give us four thousand troopers to conduct your reconnoiter tomorrow.”
“The sight of so many horsemen should be enough to compel the garrison to capitulate,” the commander-in-chief reasoned. “They will know our legions are not far behind. And with their own reinforcements nowhere in sight, they will have little choice. The men of the Italica and Predator Legions are exceptionally brave, but they are not stupid. They will hand Cremona over to us once they know their cause is unwinnable.”
Primus breathed a sigh of relief as he surveyed the legions making camp and beginning the work of rebuilding all of the fortifications around Bedriacum. Little did he know, he had unwittingly committed a grave strategic error, underestimating the pace of the Vitellian Army’s march. Had he sent a section of scouts south to Brixellum, the deposed Emperor Otho’s final resting place, he would have known the Vitellians had passed through two days prior. While the Flavians were brimming with confidence that they would soon take Cremona with ease, Legio IV, Macedonia had arrived and was securing the bridge to the southwest. By the following day, the rest of Caecina’s former division would arrive from Hostilia. Antonius Primus would soon be facing the same Vitellian Army he had stared down scarcely a week prior. Only now, they were reinforced by three legions with numerous additional attached cohorts of both infantry and cavalry. Should Valens bring the rest of his division up from Narnia, the Flavians would find themselves terribly outnumbered.
On the following morning, 24 October, Primus ordered his legions to continue fortifying the camp around Bedriacum. Cremona was now just twenty miles away. With the main Vitellian Army having to conduct a much longer road march, the Flavian commanding general was convinced he had two days to spare. He would rest his infantry this day while waiting for the arrival of Seventh Claudia. Outside the western gate of the camp, the vast array of imperial horsemen stood by their mounts. While they conducted their massed reconnaissance, Primus sent his auxilia infantry cohorts out foraging for food and building materials.
“General, sir,” Arrius said, as he saluted his commander-in-chief.
“We’ll send your advance guard forward,” Primus replied, returning the salute. “The rest will remain in echelon formations on either side of the road, keeping the foraging infantry cohorts in ready reserve.”
“We’ll bloody up any Vitellians who are foolish enough to scrap with us,” the cavalry commander proclaimed.
It was just after breakfast when General Primus departed the camp at Bedriacum. His auxilia infantry cohorts were relatively fresh, and he allowed them to forage afield while he led his cavalry in a massed reconnaissance. His lead scouts were sent even further ahead, with Commander Arrius leading them personally.
The only sounds heard as the large force departed were the calling of birds and the River Ollius to the north. The river wound northwest, and after the first few miles it could no longer be heard. The Via Postumia was a wide and well-traveled road, and the large reconnaissance force moved at a rapid pace. As the miles went by, there was no sign of the Vitellians, though Primus did halt his men for a brief moment when they reached the sight of that terrible battle between Otho and Vitellius.
“And along this road, Otho’s hopes were dashed,” Primus mused.
He looked around for any sign of the bodies left to rot where they fell. He knew the previous struggle was being called The Battle of Bedriacum , even though most of the fighting had taken place much closer to Cremona. After six months, the flesh of the dead had mostly been devoured by wild beasts, or rotted away. Piles of bones would litter the area for many years to come.
“How many of us will soon join them?” he quietly asked himself.
Tribune Lucius Artorius and his regiment of Siliana Horse had arrived at Cremona the previous evening, warning the garrison of the pending Flavian attack. He reassured the legates that the main Vitellian force was but a day’s march behind him.
“They covered an impressive thirty miles yesterday,” he stated. “I suspect they will arrive here by midafternoon.”
“And what of my cousin?” Legate Manlius Valens of First Italica asked. “Is he assuming command now that Caecina has betrayed us?”
“He promises he will soon,” Lucius replied. “He’s already sent Fourth Macedonia forward. They should also arrive by the morrow. However, the good general himself has been stricken by a stomach illness and will need a few days to recover.”
“Well, he’s certainly not as young as he once was,” Manlius, who was a good fifteen years younger than Valens, replied.
Rumors had reached Cremona of the Flavian invasion, and the legates were relieved to know the emperor was sending his best troops to deal with the rebellion. Their forces began to arrive in the early afternoon, along with Valens’ advance cohorts. Lucius was given the day to rest his men and their tired horses. This would be cut short, however, with the sighting of Primus’ cavalry scouts.
“Enemy horses have been spotted, sir!” a trooper frantically reported. “General Manlius has ordered all cavalry to make ready for battle. First Italica and Twenty-First Rapax Legions are preparing to advance on them.”
Even as the rest of the army crossed over the Padus and into Cremona, to the shouts and cheers of their mates, there would be no rest or reprieve for either side this day.
“And so it begins,” Lucius said grimly.
Chapter XIII: The Second Battle of Bedriacum
Four Miles east of Cremona
24 October 69 A.D.
Legionaries unleashing their javelin volleys
(Photo © Cezary Wyszynski)
Antonius Primus could not fully explain his trepidations, but his instincts told him he had committed a rather grievous mistake by not pressing on immediately for Cremona. This was soon confirmed, as his previously serene calm was shattered by the hurried approach of his forward scouts. They were sprinting their horses and in a panic.
“The Vitellians approach!” one of them shouted. “They have sortied a large contingent of cavalry, and it looks like they are deploying both legions from Cremona.”
“So much for taking the city without bloodshed,” the commanding general acknowledged glumly. He turned to one of his aids. “Return to Bedriacum at once. All legions are ordered to advance with all possible speed.”
“In the meantime, I’ll sort out the impudent bastards from Cremona,” Arrius said.
Before Primus could stop him, the cavalry commander shouted a series of orders. Soon, almost a quarter of their entire contingent was racing after him.
“Shall we sound the general advance, sir?” a nearby centurion asked.
“No, damn it!” Primus snapped. He could not believe that Arrius was so recklessly leading a thousand cavalry in a head-long charge against an unknown enemy force. “Recall all auxilia infantry cohorts and form a defensive line here. We will not advance another step until the legions arrive. In the meantime, I want a thorough reconnaissance of our flanks, as well as back up the road. We are out in the open here, and we need to find more suitable ground.”
General Primus’ nerves were wracked. Now, there was no mistaking he had committed a series of errors. The first was underestimating the strength and tenacity of their adversaries. The Italica and Predator Legions were neither beaten nor demoralized, but were clamoring for a fight. His second and most serious mistake was deploying so far forward without his legions. He thought he was being prudent by having them fortify Bedriacum into a viable stronghold. Instead, it appeared he had blundered into a pair of legions supported by an unknown number of cavalry regiments.
“Perhaps it is all f
or the best, seeing as how they wish to fight me in the open,” he reasoned quietly to himself.
They were now roughly fifteen miles from Bedriacum. It would be four or five hours before the legions arrived. Primus had yet to learn of the arrival of the main Vitellian division. There would soon be more than just two legions from Cremona advancing on him.
Though they had arrived at Cremona in astounding time, the Vitellian’s main army was now slow to advance, despite the sighting of a sizeable Flavian force. With Valens still absent, the senior officers were arguing amongst each other over who should assume overall command. While Legate Fabius did not want it, most of the division from Hostilia was arguing in his favor. It was only when Manlius Valens rode into encampment that the other legates and senior commanders realized how serious the situation had become.
“While you lot have thirty thousand men sitting on their asses, my two legions from Cremona are engaging the enemy!” he snapped. “An entire corps of enemy horsemen are moving towards the city, so you can bet their legions are not far behind.”
“Our army is still mostly on the far side of the bridge,” Fabius noted. “It will take some time to get them across, several hours at least.”
“Then you’d best hurry them along,” Manlius said impatiently. “Your men did not march a hundred miles in three days, just so Cremona could fall while their legates squabbled like a bunch of fucking Sicilian whores!”
