by Geoff Fabron
Going from position to position the leader was pleased to see that the men were all well camouflaged and waiting patiently, their weapons by their side, ready for use. They were dressed in civilian clothing in brown, black or dark green, and their faces were blackened with soot or mud. Their weapons, ammunition and explosives were standard imperial army issue, as was the short sword that the leader wore in a scabbard at his side.
The leader took up his position next to a tree on the embankment. He could see all the way down the road to where the lookout was located. He stared at the spot where he knew his man was waiting, hoping that he was alert. Eventually the signal came - a series of light flashes - only a few minutes later than their agent had told them to expect their target. He shouted one clear command and there was the metallic click of weapons being loaded and readied.
The sound of the motor carriages grew louder and he could see their headlights loom larger as they approached the ambush. This was the worst part for him, too late to do anything he could only wait. He watched the two vehicles move closer to the explosives.
There was a brilliant flash that temporarily blinded the leader, as the explosives were set off. It caught the lead vehicle at the rear and not directly side-on as planned, but the effect was the same. The vehicle spun round out of control before slamming into a tree on the other side of the road. The second motor carriage slowed down to avoid hitting the first vehicle skidding in front of it and was raked by rifle fire from the men hidden along the embankment. It also crashed into a tree a short distance beyond the first, its driver dead.
Even before the second vehicle came to a stop, the attackers were running towards the wrecked motor carriages. Three of the passengers managed to get out. Two were gunned down before they could draw their weapons. The third managed to use the vehicle to shield himself and calmly opened fire, hitting two of the assailants before being overwhelmed.
The leader made his way to where the second motor vehicle had come to rest. His men were checking the bodies of the occupants for signs of life. Provided they were unable to resist they were to be left alive. They wanted witnesses. His men were shouting orders in Latin and even his two wounded men, the leader was proud to notice, were screaming for the medic in Latin.
The rear door of the motor carriage was open and the body of an auxiliary was lying half in, half out of the vehicle. One of his men was standing by the open door, his rifle pointing inside. As the leader came up to him, he came to attention, brought his rifle down and with his other hand gave an imperial army salute.
The leader stepped over the body of the auxiliary into the interior of the luxury motor carriage. Philokates, Governor of Britannia was lying up against the other door, a gash across his head and a bullet wound in his shoulder. He was covered in blood, but most of it had come from his driver whose head, or what was left of it, lay on the seat in front of him.
The governor was dazed and only semi-conscious, and probably did not notice as the leader drew his short Roman sword. He spoke loudly and clearly, "Death to those who would betray the Empire!" He then thrust the sword deep into Philokates chest. The governor doubled forward clawing at the sword for a few seconds before collapsing onto the floor of the carriage.
The leader got out and ordered his men to withdraw. The diversion at each end of the road would only hold up traffic for a short while and he planned to be as far away as possible before daylight. They gathered up their wounded and made off in the direction of the nearest imperial army base for a few miles, making sure that their route could be identified before splitting up and heading north. The leader watched his men move out. The governor would not be meeting the leaders of the Radicals and Federals now. He shouted at a group of men who had stopped to loot a body. The order was in Latin, but his thoughts as always were in German.
15th May 1920
Isca, Britannia
The assassination of Romanus Philokates came as a shock to the entire province. The survivors of the ambush reported that the attackers had appeared to be legionaries, and the gladius found in the governors chest gave weight to the rumour that the killing had been the work of extremists from the traditionalist party. Throughout Britannia, crowds of provincials began attacking known traditionalists and members of the imperial army.
A large mob stormed an office building in Isca that housed the Traditionalist party head quarters, murdered its occupants and set fire to the building. The mob then turned its attention on the airfield just outside the city.
There were two centuries of legionaries on guard at the airfield under the command of Virius Primus. He had heard about the attack in the city and could see the smoke rising from Isca. As a precaution he had issued weapons to all ground personnel and ordered the perimeter air defence guns to be prepared for action. His men had just finished stringing a line of barbed wire across the road from the city when the mob arrived.
Although he had faced rioters before, Virius shuddered with fear as he watched the mob come into sight. There were thousands of them, ten thousand at least the young tribune estimated, all of them screaming their hatred of the men at the airfield. Half a century were deployed fifty yards behind the barbed wire, front ranks with shields, second rank with rifles. As the crowd got closer and stones began to bounce off the shields, Virius nodded to the centurion in charge. An order rang out and the second rank raised their rifles and fired a volley into the air. The mob halted its advance for a few moments but then continued moving again as the pressure from the rear propelled the front forwards. The barbed wire proved more of a hindrance than a barrier and barely slowed them down.
Another order was given and the men retreated, the rear ranks doubling back to the main guard. The front rank marched steadily backwards, their shields fending off the increasing hail of missiles. The crowd seeing the soldiers retire, gave a roar of triumph and surged forward. They spread out off the road and formed a wide front approaching the perimeter wire as well as the main gate. Virius tried one more volley over the heads of the mob once his men had rejoined him but seeing the blood lust of the crowd bearing down on his men, he gave the order to shoot to kill.
The imperial army had never believed in half measures, and if the lives of his men are in danger, an officer is expected and authorised to use any means at his disposal to protect them. If that meant civilian casualties, then that was regarded as unfortunate, even tragic, but necessary.
The pair of machine rifles from the heavy weapons section were the first to respond, shooting hundreds of bullets into the densely packed mob. The rest of the legionaries and the armed mechanics and aircraft technicians soon joined in.
As the people at the rear to realised what was happening they ceased the pressure on those at the front. They began to stream away from the airfield allowing those nearest the murderous fire to turn and run, but in those few moments hundreds of rounds were fired including some explosive shells from one of the anti-aircraft guns.
As soon as he saw the crowd break and run, Virius ordered his men to cease fire. He did not enjoy killing for the sake of it.
In the wake of the Isca massacre, the senior army general in the province declared martial law. As he was also the most senior imperial official after the governor this flamed the rumours of a conspiracy by the army and the traditionalists to replace Philokates with someone more in tune with the wishes of Constantinople who would veto the planned Free Trade Areas. The general met with the leaders of the provincial assembly and managed to calm their fears of a military coup. They agreed to postpone the next assembly meeting until the arrival of a new governor and to appeal to the populace for calm. However they made it clear to the general that with the death of Romanus Philokates what little trust the people had had in the imperial authorities had died with him.
19th May 1920
The Upper Rhine
The imposition of the waterways tariff had led to less trouble than had been expected. The patrol boats of the Rhine fleet had developed a good working relat
ionship with the cargo vessels that sailed the river and they had come to an understanding.
When a patrol boat came along side a non-Roman vessel to demand payment of the new tax, the ship’s captain would sign a piece of paper which the patrol boat would send to the local tax procurator. As far as the patrol boat commander and the ship’s captain were concerned that was the end of the matter. It was up to the tax collectors to try and get Saxony to pay up. This kept those on both sides of the river happy and postponed any confrontation for the time being.
However, towards the end of May the Thuringian barge 'Saint Jerome' refused to stop when hailed. This came as a surprise to the crew of the patrol boat because until now all Thuringian ships had actually been paying the tax. The Saint Jerome kept ignoring the demands of the patrol boat to stop and every time they approached the barge the captain would make obscene gestures and shout curses at the sailors onboard the imperial vessel. Finally the exasperated commander of the patrol boat put a shot across the bow. When that had no effect he ordered his crew to fire their rifles at the funnel and superstructure, taking care not to hit anybody.
The Saint Jerome stopped and a party from the patrol boat boarded her. The captain subjected the imperial sailors to another stream of verbal abuse and refused to pay any imperial taxes or even to show his documents of registration. The commander of the patrol boat ordered the Saint Jerome to be impounded and taken to their base at Moguntiacum.
How news of the Saint Jerome got to Thuringia, nobody is quite certain, but that evening crowds began to gather in the capital of the Duchy. Someone would stand up and denounce first the Empire, and then the Duke for being a Roman puppet. The crowd would cheer and then someone would shout that there were some Roman owned stores nearby. The crowd quickly transformed into a mob and soon every property that was owned by Romans or which sold Roman goods was being ransacked and set alight. Appeals to the police and local militia to restore order went unheeded and the fire vigiles only came out when there was a danger of the fire getting out of control or spreading to neighbouring, locally owned properties.
Claus Hortar, senior tribune of the Ducal guard watched the turmoil in the city from the battlements surrounding the Dukes palace. He picked out the sites that were ablaze - the 'House of Caesar' furniture store, the 'Empire Food' emporium and the Imperial Trading company warehouse down by the docks. He smiled to himself at the last one. It was owned by Exanzenus, the Empires new chief minister the one who had started all of this. Serves the bastard right thought Hortar. Further down the road he could see a crowd looting a tavern. He knew it sold wines from Italia, Gaul and Hispania, but its main trade was in good German beer and local wines. Oh well, he shrugged, any place with stocks of drink is probably fair game at these times.
He heard footsteps approaching and turned to see who it was. He came to attention and saluted as he recognised Baron Johan Alarician the Dukes eldest son and commander of the Ducal guard.
"There's a large mob gathering in the main square and they might mount an attack on the palace," he told the tribune, "have your men ready."
He acknowledged the order and sent a sentry to call out the guard. He turned back to his commanding officer.
"Do you really expect them to attack the palace sir?" he asked.
"I'm afraid so," he replied, looking out over the battlements to the flames flickering in the city.
He looks a lot older thought Hortar, he must really be worried. The tribune liked Baron Johan, he was a good commander, firm but fair and not overbearing. Although Hortar and most of the Thuringian army disagreed with the Dukes pro-Roman stance, it had never been a major issue. Until now that is. These new trade laws had shattered the complacency on which the Duke had based his rule.
"Deploy the men to defend the walls and the main gates," the baron instructed. "We'll concede the gardens to the mob." A forced smile briefly lightened his worried face, "that'll upset mother, but I don't think that it's fair to ask the men to defend her prize roses."
Hortar returned the baron’s smile, then saluted and left to oversee the deployment of his men. As he descended the stone stairs from the battlement, he saw the Dukes son staring out over the city as though in a daze. The glow of the fire from the city caught his face and he thought that he saw tears in the baron's eyes.
Two hours later the palace was surrounded by thousands of people demanding that the Duke abdicate. The battlements were lined with the men from the Ducal guard, metal helmets in place of their parade hats and rifles held nervously in their hands instead of their ceremonial spears and shields. Calls to the nearest infantry regiment for support had gone unanswered.
The baron and the senior tribune were in the west tower, which gave them a clear view of the main gate and the wall leading down to the Rhine. As they watched, the crowd forced the gates into the palace gardens and like a river bursting its banks flooded through trampling the flower beds under foot. The mob was impotent against the thick 800 year old walls of the palace so they just shouted slogans and demands at the impassive guardsmen on the battlements.
At about the same time a loud, rhythmic banging began from the other side of the palace, each crash was greeted by a roar of approval from the mob. The baron and Hortar moved to the other side of the tower but could not see what was happening. The tribune was about to send somebody to find out when a junior centurion arrived, out of breath and red faced. He came up to the two senior officers and saluted. He then asked if he could speak to the tribune in private. Hortar looked at the baron in surprise and was about to demand that the centurion explain himself when the baron said that it was all right and moved out of earshot.
After several minutes Hortar dismissed the centurion and rejoined the baron. He stared his commander in the face and tried to speak, but his mouth and lips were dry and the words stuck in his throat.
"It's all right Claus," he said kindly, "just tell me."
The tribune cleared his throat and swallowed hard. "The mob have brought up a tree trunk to act as a battering ram sir," he said, "and are breaking down the gate in the east wall. The centurion in command over there reckons that they will be through within ten to fifteen minutes."
The baron looked at Hortar. "And?"
The tribunes voice began to crack again as he spoke. "The men won't fire on the people." There were tears in his eyes now as he spoke to the baron. "I'm sorry sir, but the guard will not fight to protect the palace."
Baron Johan nodded his head slowly and put his hand on the tribunes shoulder.
"It's all right Claus," he said again, "I would not have ordered them to shoot anyway. I won't kill my own people."
He looked down at the crowd beneath the tower. "There are bigger things at stake here than people just being tired of my father's rule and his pro-Roman sympathies."
The tribune came to attention, "Sir, I respectfully suggest that you gather the Duke and the rest of your family and cross the Rhine immediately."
The baron nodded sadly. "Yes, you're right, I would like to stay but they", he indicated the braying mob below, "wouldn't be in the mood to listen to anything I have to say."
"I know a few men who will help make sure you can get safely away," added Hortar quietly, "I'm truly sorry."
For a moment the Baron thought that he was going to be overcome with emotion, "thank you Claus," he finally managed to say, "that means a great deal, but I don't want you or any others to be put at risk for me." With that he turned and walked away.
Early the next morning it was announced that Duke Otto of Thuringa had fled the country and until a new ruler was chosen an interim government mainly made up of the city council would run the Duchy.
The events in Thuringa took Constantinople by surprise, and were followed within days by similar 'popular revolts' in the other Duchies. Saxony recognised the new governments immediately but scrupulously kept within the terms of the treaty which restricted the Kingdoms involvement in the affairs of the Duchies. Constantinople protested the remo
val of the ruling families but provided that the Duchies continued to comply with the neutrality clause in the treaty, the Empire had no justification to intervene. However the anti Empire rhetoric of the new governments caused unease in Constantinople, and the commander of the Rhine armies was directed to reinforce the units along the upper Rhine by transferring units from the lower Rhine.
27th May 1920
Londinium, Britannia
The declaration of martial law and the appeal for calm by the assembly leadership had brought the unrest that had followed the assassination under control. However it was a fragile peace that covered the province and everyone in Britannia awaited the arrival of the new governor with apprehension.
The appointment of provincial governors, like that of senior military commanders was the sole prerogative of the Emperor, although usually in conjunction with senior ministers. Alexander kept anything even remotely like work at a disdainful distance, but when it came to handing out prestigious appointments in the civil or military hierarchy, he jealously guarded his rights. He might not be a particularly conscientious ruler, but he was fully aware of the power structure of the Empire and the fact that every successful overthrow of an Emperor had started in either the administration or the army. By putting his own nominees into key positions he believed that he was protecting himself from any threats to his position. Alexander had not learnt that competence in a senior official is normally a better quality than loyalty. Against the advice of his chief minister, Alexander appointed Demetrius Dalassenus, an obscure relative from Cappadocia in Asia Minor to the position of governor of the province of Britannia.
