by Geoff Fabron
The legionary adjutant brought up his clipboard and began to read from the roster of units.
"The 1st, 3rd, 4th and 6th cohorts are now at 75% strength after transferring men from the 5th and 7th. They have also incorporated two centuries from the 8th cohort in Isca. The landship cohorts are at 60% strength and the artillery has been re-supplied. Eight guns are out of action due to damage or wear."
"Any news of the 2nd cohort?" someone asked. The second had been in Londinium protecting the governor.
The adjutant shook his head. "No, we can only assume that they are all either dead or being held as prisoners."
The legate cut the digression short by asking the air cohort commander about the state of his aircraft.
"We have managed to establish an airfield about fifteen miles from here, this will reduce flight times on sorties, but our air strength is down to 14 fighters and 12 light bombers. We lost another fighter to ground fire yesterday."
"Thank you Marcus," said the legate, "well, so much for what we have got, or rather what we have left. Now, what are we going to do with it?" he looked over to Virius Primus, who had taken over as the legions operations officer since his predecessor had been killed in the fighting.
Virius picked up a pointer and began to indicate parts of the map which had been marked in red or blue, bending over the table as he did.
"Rebel forces are deployed in a semi-circle across Ermine street blocking our advance on Calleva Atrebatum. We will launch an attack on their left flank to turn their defences. The 3rd cohort supported by half the artillery will undertake a holding action to pin down the forces facing us whilst the 1st and 3rd cohorts, led by the landships will launch the flank attack. The rest of the artillery and the light bombers will support them. The 6th cohort together with the armoured motor carriages will remain as the legion reserve."
Virius straightened up. "The remnants of the 5th and 8th cohorts will be posted as detachments to guard our communications with Isca. Any questions?"
The senior centurion of the 3rd cohort leaned forward to study the map. "Why don't we attack on both flanks and encircle them," he said. "Then we won't have to fight them again next week."
There were murmurs of agreement from around the table. Virius could see the legate watching him out of the corner of his eye, but his expression gave away nothing. It was his plan and he had to sell it.
"We don't have the manpower for a double envelopment," Virius replied confidently. "We can barely put half a legion into this attack as it is. If we split the flanking force in two we risk being beaten back on one or both flanks."
Another centurion spoke up. "In other words tribune, we drive them out of this position, losing perhaps a hundred or so men and some vehicles, then do the same thing in a couple of days a few miles down the road."
"Unfortunately, that about sums it up," agreed Virius. "We simply don't have the strength to deliver a decisive blow. They can replace their losses with civilian volunteers, who have proved quite tenacious in defence, and call on fresh units from the north. We fight with what we have."
"We'll still be doing this come Christmas!" said the centurion. "If there's any of us left!"
"I think not," the legate interrupted, speaking for the first time since Virius had begun to outline the operation. "I received some news this morning which I've been keeping to myself, but now seems as good a time as any to share it." All eyes turned to the legate and there was complete silence as he took a piece of paper from the pocket of his battle dress.
"Yesterday," he began, "units of the Rhine army that have been dispatched to Britannia broke out of Dubris and moved on Londinium. Durovernum has already fallen and heavy casualties have been inflicted on the rebel forces."
The atmosphere in the tent changed instantly from one of resigned pessimism to almost euphoric optimism. Everybody agreed that it was good news indeed. Attacked on two fronts the rebels would have to split their forces in two or abandon Londinium. Titus glanced over at the full size provincial map hanging on the tent wall. Trapped between Londinium and our forces up in Deva and Petuaria, they will have to surrender, he thought. After all, who's going to help them.
28th June 1920
Somewhere in Saxony
From the observation tower Tribune Vadomar of the 12th Infantry Regiment watched his men move stealthily towards the edge of the Imperial base. He could see the legionary guards patrolling the perimeter checking visitors and vehicles at the main gate. He turned to the man next to him who was dressed in the uniform of a senior tribune in the legions.
“Your men certainly look the part Sunno.”
“They should do. Their kit is standard legion issue and they have been trained to think and react as Roman soldiers.”
Tribune Sunno was proud of his men. The X Cohort appeared on the Saxon Army list as the 5th Training and Education Depot, but in practise reported to the Intelligence and Special Operations Bureau not the Training Directorate. The unit consisted of men fluent in Latin and Greek who had been trained as Roman Legionaries by ex-centurions of the Imperial Army who had a grudge against the Empire or an overriding need for Saxon Gold. Their purpose was to evaluate the effectiveness of Imperial weapons and tactics and act as the opponents in wargames with selected units of the regular Saxon Army. As part of the units’ establishment they maintained a fully functional Legionary base where the men of X Cohort remained ‘in character’ at all times, operating the base as is they were on the Rhine frontier. The existence of X Cohort was suspected by Imperial Intelligence but not the full breath of its remit in preparing the Saxon army for operations.
By the perimeter wire a ‘Roman’ guard spotted one of Vadomar’s men creeping towards the base and shouted a challenge and then fired a shot. Other guards quickly joined in until an umpire emerged from a nearby hut and put an end to the exercise by blowing a whistle. The firing stopped and more Saxon troops appeared from the nearby woods and undergrowth where they had been concealed. They wandered towards the wire, gathering into groups, lighting up cigarettes and chatting amongst themselves.
“You are going to have to do a lot better than that.” Observed Tribune Sunno.
“Yes, they are.” Agreed Vadomar grimly. “And they need to do so quickly.”
5th July 1920
Lactodorum, Britannia
The theatre in Lactodorum was the largest building in the city. For that reason it had been taken over by the rebel government. The decision to abandon Londinium to the advancing imperial forces had not been an easy one, but it had soon become clear that if they had tried to defend the capital the legions could have encircled the city, and Londinium would become a huge prison camp.
The withdrawal up Watling Street had gone smoothly but the outlook was bleak as Quintus Flaccus, the newly elected leader of the assembly war council, made clear to the other council members. Sextus was now a member of the war council, having joined the rebels after the fighting broke out. He was the highest ranking provincial official to support the rebels and his administrative skills were welcome.
The meeting had started with a review of the military situation by Claudius Camilus, the leader of the provincial Equestrian Party. Due to his previous military experience he had been appointed as the head of the rebel forces.
He informed the council that he had some ten thousand men dug in around Verulamium, about twenty miles north east of Londinium. He also had a smaller force outside Glevum to guard against an attack from Isca. The auxiliary forces from the border had been moved to screen the naval base at Petuaria and the legio XX Valeria Victrix at Deva. A small reserve of three thousand men were at Lactodorum. There were not enough troops to launch a counter attack against the forces driving from the south or to eliminate the imperial bases in the north.
"What about the civilian population?" asked the head of the Radical Party. "There are thousands of volunteers ready to fight for the freedom of Britannia."
"With the exception of some retired veterans, none of th
em are trained soldiers," said Camilus. "We can issue them with rifles and they will give a creditable account of themselves in defence, but sending them to attack a legion would be suicide." He did not add that the supply of volunteers eager to fight had dried up considerably since the retreat from Londinium. Few people are keen to fight for a losing side.
The people around the table remained silent but looked at each other willing someone to provide a solution to their predicament. Eventually Quintus Flaccus spoke.
"I believe that the only option is the 'foreign volunteers'," he said with a note of resignation in his voice.
"I'm not happy with the Caledonian army marching in to help us," said Camilus forcefully, "it'll change the whole nature of this conflict and alienate many of our people."
"And even if we succeed in getting Constantinople to recognise our independence," added the leader of the Federal Party. "How free will we be if it's won for us by others. I've no desire to become a client state of Caledonia!"
The others muttered in agreement and Flaccus raised his hands for quiet in order to speak again.
"I understand your fears," he said, "and I share them. But I don't see any alternative. We've all heard what has happened to our colleagues who have fallen into the hands of the imperial forces." The retreat from Londinium had seen a number of the assembly members and a few senators taken prisoner by the advancing legions. The peregrini had summarily executed those who had voted for independence. Any auxiliary officer taken prisoner suffered the same fate. Flaccus continued.
"Without help it's only a matter of time, possibly weeks before the Empire has re-established control over the island. If that is the case I can only recommend that we surrender immediately to prevent anymore suffering to the province."
Again, everybody was quiet. Flaccus could see that each one was struggling with the choice before them. It was Camilus who broke the silence.
"What form will these 'volunteers' take?" he asked.
Flaccus allowed himself to relax a little. He knew that he had won the argument.
"There are volunteers waiting to aid our struggle against the Empire," he spoke to his fellow council members as though he was addressing a political meeting, "not just from Caledonia, but from Hibernia, Scandia, Saxony and the United Provinces. They just need to know that we want them and they'll come. They will bring their own weapons and will be integrated into existing auxiliary and citizen militia units."
"What about heavy weapons?" asked Camilus. "Without artillery and armoured vehicles we don't have a hope of defeating the legions."
"We will hire mercenary units of artillery, landships and aircraft," he announced.
There were expressions of surprise from other council members. This was the first that any of them had heard about the use of mercenaries.
"Where're they coming from and how are we going to pay for them?" demanded Sextus.
"Actually, they will be regular units of the Caledonian army with some Saxon army equipment," replied Flaccus, "but to maintain the illusion of Caledonian neutrality they'll officially be independent mercenaries hired by us."
"And payment?" persisted Sextus.
"Academic," said Flaccus dismissing the question. "Payment is the least of our problems at the moment". He was in control of the meeting now and meant to maintain his authority. "I hope that that clears up all the questions. We'll have to move quickly if we want to stop the imperials before they push us up to the wall."
Sextus wanted to discuss the matter further but Flaccus pushed for a vote. With only Sextus abstaining, it was agreed to accept 'volunteers' from other nations and to hire mercenaries.
Sextus still had his doubts as he left the meeting. He could not throw off the feeling that the council was a puppet and that somebody else was pulling the strings.
Later that day, Quintus Flaccus met a representative of the Caledonian government to pass on the official request for volunteers and mercenaries. The Caledonian official congratulated the council leader for persuading his colleagues to accept help.
"It was easy to get them to agree when they had no choice," replied Flaccus. “Our own auxiliaries are too weak to hold off the legions for much longer. It's either help from outside or a bullet in the back of the head from the peregrini."
"And once the imperials have gone," said the Caledonian, our troops will be available to ensure a speedy return of law and order - within a new Britannia/Caledonian federation." He picked up a pair of glasses and gave one to Flaccus. He raised his glass in salute to the council leader.
"Here's to the 'independent' province of Britannia", he said, "and to Quintus Flaccus, its first leader and one of Caledonia's most loyal friends!"
16th July 1920
Minden, Saxony
Katherine had to get away from Minden. The crisis over the trade laws and the growing animosity towards the Empire made the atmosphere at the university very tense. Some of those who knew about her friendship with Cornelius had started to shun her. Others had quietly suggested that it would be the 'patriotic thing' to do to break off the relationship.
Her response had made it very clear that it was up to her who she associated with, and just because Cornelius was a Roman, it did not make him an enemy of either her or Saxony.
She decided to travel down to the hunting lodge for a quiet weekend. The lodge had been a place of refuge for Katharine and her mother when father had lapsed into one of his really dark moods. Later, after Frederick had become Count they would come down here together when he was using the family home to host meetings or entertain guests on behalf of the government. She had hoped that Cornelius would be able to come with her, but since the outbreak of fighting in Britannia all Roman diplomatic personnel, with the exception of the ambassador, had been restricted to within a five mile radius of the embassy.
Katherine arrived on Saturday afternoon. As she turned into the grounds she noticed a number of military motor carriages parked in the garage. She learnt from the housekeeper that her younger brother Franz and a number of his friends from the staff school had been staying there all week. The housekeeper, who had been with the family for as long as Katherine could remember, discretely mentioned that Edwin was one of her brothers’ guests.
Katherine headed straight up to her room, and asked the housekeeper not to tell her brother that she was here. She had come here to get away from the tension and the hatred in Minden. She was neither looking for a bitter argument with Franz nor to open old wounds with Edwin.
She unpacked the few things that she had brought with her - some clothes, a couple of books and the research paper she was currently working on - and then sat by the window. She often used to do this when she was younger, just sit on the window sill and stare out at the hills and the dense forest surrounding the lodge. It was peaceful yet slightly frightening in a primeval way, bringing to mind stories of goblins, witches and trolls that had frightened her as a child.
This time she thought back to the weekend that she had spent here with Cornelius, just before all the trouble had started. It had almost been perfect and may well have been except for her confrontation with Franz in the evening. She clenched her fists at the thought of it; her younger brother really knew how to get under her skin! Then she remembered sitting in front of the fire with Cornelius, talking and then kissing with the expectation of more. A part of her was secretly glad that Franz had interrupted them when he did. After her affair with Edwin and the pain that had followed, she was scared of getting involved again. Yet it felt so right with Cornelius she thought angrily, and now because of this crisis over trade she might lose him. She really wished he was here now, holding her.
As she sat on the sill, her knees tucked under her chin, staring out at the rich green landscape she heard some voices. Faintly but quite distinctly she could make out a number of men's voices and with a start she recognised one of them as Edwin's. For a moment she thought that she was beginning to lose her mind but then she realised that the sound was coming
from the open fireplace. She got off the window sill and went over to the large chimney on one side of her bedroom. She bent down and as she put her head into the empty grate the voices became quite clear. Katherine remembered that she was directly above the study and realised that the chimney was acting as a conduit for sounds from the room below.
The air in the study was stale with the smell of tobacco smoke and beer, but Franz and the others were so used to it that they barely noticed. A map of the Rhine frontier lay on one of the large tables brought in from the dining room and it was covered with small wooden blocks marking the positions of Saxon and imperial forces.
The door opened and another officer came in, a piece of paper in one hand and a pipe in the other. "The latest news from Britannia," he announced loudly as he marched over to Franz, "the Caledonian 'volunteers'," (there was a round of laughter at that), "have surrounded the Roman bases at Deva and Petuaria. The rebels are moving against the imperial troops further south!"
"Excellent!" exclaimed Franz, "we can expect to see more troops withdrawn from the Rhine and sent across to Britannia."
"When will we strike, Franz?" Katherine recognised Edwin's voice.
"Once they're fully committed against the rebels and their 'allies', we'll issue the order for Sea Lance. Then we'll cross the Rhine and within a month the Roman army in the west will be either destroyed or marooned on Britannia!"
Franz felt a flush of exhilaration. Soon, he thought, Saxony would be in a position to dictate terms to Constantinople.
"What about the rest of the Empire's forces?" asked another voice.
