by Geoff Fabron
The chief centurion gave the order for the rest of the men to return to barracks. They formed up and marched away from the governors’ mansion past the human wreckage in the square. The cohorts’ officers gathered around the chief centurion, who was watching the men march off.
Their faces were cold and full of suppressed anger. The chief centurion pre-empted their questions, telling them to wait until they were back in barracks with the rest of the cohort. One of the junior centurions nodded back to the gate house where the bodyguards were watching the departing auxiliaries and jeering after them.
"Do you think they'll fire at us?" he asked.
The chief centurion stared at the gate house and the governors’ mansion. He stood there for a few moments, watching the movement on the walls whilst listening to a woman crying on the cathedral steps and the obscene laughter of the men who had caused her grief.
He turned back to answer the junior centurions question.
"Not now they won't,” he said. His expression changed, the anger and shock was replaced by a grim determination. "But I reckon that they will before long."
19th February 1920
Constantinople
Gregory Nicerites put down the report he had been reading when a highly excited and flustered Georges Carbaros burst into his office without knocking. Gregory looked up, startled by his personal assistant's unannounced entrance. Georges was normally highly deferential to his superior, so something dramatic must have happened to cause him to lose his composure and to forget his manners. Gregory did not even get the chance to demand an explanation.
"Tarraco has revolted!" Carbaros announced in a shocked voice, waving a piece of paper in the air. He started to expand on this statement but was too excited to make any sense.
Gregory looked at his agitated assistant and decided that calming him down was the first thing that needed to be done.
"Sit down Georges," he said, trying to convey a cool and controlled expression that he hoped would settle his assistants’ nerves, "and give me the full story."
Carbaros sat down and took a couple of deep breaths, whilst Gregory maintained what he hoped was a serene air. It seemed to work, and Carbaros proceeded to give a formal report.
"The news just came in from Carthago Nova." Carbaros began, "The auxiliary cohort at Tarraco has mutinied and murdered the Governor. The local Radical party leadership has taken over all administrative posts with the support of the mutineers and declared a self governing city state. Weapons have been distributed from the local armoury to the citizens and the approaches to the city have been blockaded."
"Diogenates, bloody Basil Diogenates", Gregory spat out the name. He had warned the Emperor against appointing him to a place such as Tarraco, but even he had not expected a fully fledged revolt.
"What caused it?" he asked his assistant.
Carbaros looked at his superior with a blank expression. "Sorry sir, what do you mean, caused what? The auxiliaries mutinied."
Gregory gave his assistant an exasperated look. "Georges, five hundred auxiliaries do not just decide on a whim that they want to shoot the city governor, no matter how much they may dislike him. There is a reason for every action; I've been trying to drum that into you for the last year! Now what happened!"
A subdued Carbaros quickly scanned the report from Carthago Nova, the capital of Hispania.
"According to reports from Tarraco, the governors’ personal guards opened fire on a rioting crowd after arresting the leader of demonstration. The auxiliary commander was also placed under arrest for insubordination."
"Probably for trying to talk some sense into that idiot Diogenates!" interrupted Gregory. "So what is happening now?"
Carbaros turned to the last page. "The Provincial Governor ordered auxiliary cohorts at Barcino, Saguntium and Valentia to restore order, but the troops barricaded themselves into their barracks and refused to move. There are reports of other demonstrations in support of Tarraco throughout the province and even some in Gaul and Britannia"
The situation in Hispania was fragile, thought Gregory. It needed a strong and intelligent man to resolve it without the entire province turning into a conflagration that could consume half the Empire. Gregory knew the provincial governor of Hispania to be highly capable and well thought of by the people of the province, but would it be enough to avert a catastrophe?
20th February 1920
Minden, Saxony
Cornelius gathered up the papers that he would need and left his office. Taronites had been away visiting some important Saxon officials for the last week and the first thing he had done on his return to the embassy was to schedule a meeting with Cornelius to bring him up to date on the trade negotiations. The discussions had been going well and the ambassador did not want to lose momentum by adjourning the meetings, so he had allowed Cornelius to act as head of the negotiating team during his absence.
The extra work meant that there was little time for socialising and Cornelius had only been able to see Katherine once their dinner together. They had met for lunch a week ago, and had spent the time happily debating various contentious points of Romano-German history. After the meal they had walked along the river, with Katherine pointing out all the spots where they could come for picnics in the spring. Since then he had only managed to speak to her on the telephone between sessions at the trade talks. She was usually at the university library and so was rarely home when he found the opportunity to call. As he walked down the corridor to see the ambassador Cornelius hoped that his work load would become lighter with Taronites return. He was keen to spend more time with Katherine.
Taronites signalled Cornelius to take a seat as soon as he was shown into the ambassadors’ office. He had been reading a report and from the frown on his face Cornelius could tell that he was not happy with the news it contained. However as Cornelius sat down, the ambassador put the report aside and replaced the frown with a diplomatic smile.
"Welcome back ambassador," greeted Cornelius, "I trust you had a good visit."
"It was very enjoyable," replied Taronites, "but I'm not sure how useful it was. Endless visits to the estates of important Saxon nobles to be shown how advanced and civilised they have become and tell them how important their friendship is to the Empire." He patted his stomach with his hands. "Every night some kind of banquet or reception. I must have doubled my weight in the last week!"
Cornelius smiled at the ambassadors’ exaggeration, and they got down to discussing the trade talks. When Taronites had left, there had been deadlock over the question of timber sales from Saxony. The Saxon grievance was that they sold the wood to the Empire, who mass produced cheap furniture in their factories and then sold it back to the Saxons. The restrictions that the Empire had placed on the sale of machine tools and advanced equipment had held back mechanisation in the Germanic states and the furniture industry was a typical case. The Saxons could produce high quality hand crafted furniture which sold for a good price to the rich, but they could not compete with the highly mechanised factories across the Rhine and Danube in the mass market. The Saxons were threatening to put high tariffs on Roman furniture unless the Empire promised a significant increase in the volume of 'quality Saxon furniture' that they purchased.
Cornelius believed that he had a solution, and handed a file across to Taronites.
"Many of the big companies in the Empire have been complaining about industrial unrest in their factories for some time," began Cornelius, "I'm sure that some of them will be only too willing to set up factories in Saxony. The furniture will be made in Saxony by Saxons with Saxon wood, which will keep them happy, but the profits will remain with imperial companies."
The ambassador scanned through the papers in the file and thought about the proposal for a few moments.
"What about the restrictions on the sale of heavy equipment outside the Empire?" he asked.
"The factories can be equipped with old machinery that has been superseded," countered Cornelius, "it wi
ll still be more advanced than what the Saxons have at the moment."
"What about the loss of jobs when the factories are relocated?" asked the ambassador. "The radicals will riot - which is what they're already doing, according to this morning’s news report."
"If the Saxons impose those tariffs there would be even more jobs lost than if we adopted this proposal," explained Cornelius before changing the subject to the rioting.
"I heard about the massacre in Tarraco and the mutiny. Has the trouble spread?"
The ambassador picked up the report he had been reading when Cornelius had entered and waved it in front of him. He glanced at it and informed Cornelius of some of the more pertinent points.
"A number of auxiliary units in Hispania refused to put down the mutiny and there were demonstrations throughout the province," he turned the page, "and in Gaul there've been sporadic outbreaks of industrial unrest but nothing too serious. However," the ambassadors voice took on a more concerned tone, "in Britannia, widespread rioting has broken out with some places following the example of Tarraco and declaring a self governing state. So far only a few small towns have done so and the local auxiliaries are remaining loyal, but I don't like the trend. It bodes ill for the Empire."
Cornelius agreed with the ambassador, but at that moment he was more worried about his brother. If the unrest was that widespread, the provincial governor would call upon the legions and other regular troops to support the auxiliaries. Riot control was not a pleasant duty.
21st February 1920
Abonae, Britannia
Titus looked up the street from the entrance to the docks where he could see crowds of youths looting the shops which lined the main road into the town. Occasionally somebody, egged on by the others, would break away from the crowd, run a few yards towards the entrance to the docks and throw a stone at the double line of legionaries.
Usually the stone would fall short, but sometimes the missile was on target and a dull thud indicated that it had been deflected by a shield. The legate had ordered that half of each century be issued with the shields, scutum, used in ceremonial parades, but with leather covers to protect them. The front rank of the century that Titus commanded carried a curved oblong shield in front of them, held up high so that only their eyes showed between the top of their shields and the bottom of their helmets. The legionary helmet with its horizontal neck guard was based on the headgear worn by Caesar's troops, and with their short swords drawn and held in their hands instead of being fixed to the tops of their rifles, they might well have been about to engage some first century barbarians instead of twentieth century rioters.
The legio II Augusta had been ordered from its base two days before to protect imperial government installations. Demonstrations had turned into riots when the news of the massacre in Tarraco and the subsequent revolt had broken. Titus and a cohort had been sent to the naval base at Abonae, where they had sealed off the entire dockyard area from the town. The local auxiliaries and police were bringing the centre of the city under control, but the rioters were moving towards the dockyard area and the warehouses that surrounded it.
The street where the legionaries were deployed was made up of a number of small double storey houses and shops, many of which had been hastily boarded up by their inhabitants before they had fled. Huge four storey warehouses were visible behind the houses and smoke had begun to pour out of their broken windows.
A scattered volley of shots echoed around the area. The legionaries became tense, the front ranks held their shields closer to their bodies whilst the second rank gripped their rifles more tightly. They were scanning the area in front of them for signs of danger. The firing increased and Titus noticed that some of the crowd at the end of the street were moving towards the sound of the shooting. Titus caught the eye of the centurion in charge of the troops and indicated that he should join him.
"What do you think is going on?" Titus asked.
The centurion was a seasoned soldier with some twenty years in the legions. He stared over towards the warehouses and thought for a few moments before answering his commanders’ query.
"Some of the big trading houses maintain their own armed guards," he said, "perhaps they're trying to scare off looters."
The firing continued, and increased in intensity. Titus and the centurion exchanged glances.
"It's beginning to sound more like a fire fight," said Titus. The centurion nodded in agreement.
Titus though carefully. His orders were to defend the naval base, but he could not just stand there whilst a full scale battle raged. Another unit of legionaries or some local auxiliaries could be in trouble. He had to do something.
"Centurion," said Titus, "you will remain here with half the century and protect the entrance. I'll take optio Lepidus and the other half of the century to investigate the shooting."
The centurion looked sceptical, but said nothing. Optio Lepidus, the centuries second in command barked out a few orders and half the men moved away from the gate and down the street towards the sound of the shooting. The front rank held their swords out in front of them showing the bare steel to the crowd in front, whilst the second rank held their rifles at the ready, scanning the windows and roof tops for snipers.
The crowd, which had thinned considerably since the first shots had been fired, retreated rapidly as the line of troops advanced. A single group of youths threw a few desultory stones as a parting gift before taking to their heels and disappearing around the corner at the cross roads. Titus brought his men up to the junction and halted them whilst he reviewed his position. To his right was a large warehouse with a sign indicating that the building was the property of the Exanzenus Trading Company. Titus could see men appear at the first floor windows and fire their rifles at the rioting crowd below them. It would not be long before the crowd broke into the warehouse and tore the guards to pieces. Titus decided that the best he could do would be to rescue the hapless guards and escort them back to the safety of the naval base.
The street ahead of Titus and to his right was clear, so he wheeled his men round and headed towards the warehouse. As the distance between the legionaries and the crowd narrowed, Titus ordered the second rank to load their rifles. The metallic sound of rifle bolts chambering a bullet drew the rioters’ attention. The crowd drew back and a channel appeared between the legionaries and the warehouse. This encouraged the guards inside the warehouse who increased their volume of fire. Titus used the speaking trumpet that he had with him to shout an order to the warehouse guards to cease fire and come out and join him, but either they did not hear or they chose to ignore him.
At that moment, hundreds of auxiliary troops began to pour into the area in front of the warehouse from the streets to the right. They formed a line in front of the warehouse facing the legionaries, their rifles at the ready. Titus again ordered his men to halt.
Titus was confused; the auxiliaries had deliberately interposed themselves between his men and the warehouse. Spotting the commander of the auxiliaries, a sour faced man, Titus detached himself from his men and strode purposely over to him intent on obtaining an explanation. However as he came up to his counterpart, it was the auxiliary officer who got the first word in.
"What're you doing here?" he snarled at Titus as though he was some raw recruit who had wandered into the officers’ mess, "the legions are restricted to protecting the naval base."
Titus felt his cheeks flush red hot with rage. The auxiliary was also a junior tribune, but as legionary troops took precedence over auxiliaries Titus outranked him. He did not intend to allow this arrogant provincial to make him look foolish in front of his own men.
"I go where I wish to go auxiliary!" Titus snapped back at him, the anger evident in his voice, "and as the ranking officer here, I demand to know what you think you're doing!"
In a calculated show of disrespect, the auxiliary officer did not immediately reply but looked Titus up and down. When he did reply he did not speak directly to Titus, bu
t looked over to where the legionaries had halted.
"This is a civil matter, not a military one," he said in a quiet voice, "I don't consider the legionary precedence rule to apply here." He then looked straight at Titus and spoke so that only Titus and a few of the auxiliaries close by could hear.
"I strongly suggest that you take your men and return to the dockyards where you belong. We'll deal with this matter."
"And if I don't?" Titus retorted.
The auxiliary gave him an insolent smile. "I think that you should count the rifles around you, then you will discover that at the moment I outrank you."
Titus glanced around. His men were holding their positions, but were looking confused and apprehensive. The auxiliaries were looking surer of themselves and more troops were arriving. Titus estimated that he was outnumbered four or five to one. This was neither the time nor the place to make a stand on a point of military law.
Gritting his teeth and barely controlling his anger Titus stared back at the auxiliary officer.
"I'll break you for this!" he said before turning around and rejoining his men. He ordered the optio to take the men back.
The legionaries formed into a column and marched back the way they had come. The rioters were jeering and laughing. Titus turned to look at the long line of auxiliaries. They were not laughing or jeering, but there was a look of quiet satisfaction on their faces.
27th February 1920
Imperial Palace, Constantinople
Lucullus Verus, chief minister to the Emperor was standing before his sovereign in the audience chamber. Alexander was not seated on his throne but was pacing up and down in front of Verus, sending the occasional venomous look at him. Finally he stopped and spoke to Verus.
"It was on your advice that I accepted that package of laws," Alexander said, "and now my cousin is dead, his body hanging on display from the Tarraco city gates, the army is in mutiny and half the Empire is in open rebellion!"
