The Eternal Empire

by Geoff Fabron

  Dikouros could hear the senators chatting outside his study and the giggling of the 'entertainment girls' that he had procured for them. How would it look, he asked himself, if he told them that he had to leave because the Saxons were about to invade? How would it look if nothing happened!

  "Send me those plans Petronius," he said gaining a bit of control over himself, "I'll evaluate them first thing in the morning."

  "But an attack could occur at any moment!" shouted Tiberius, barely able to keep his temper. "We must alert the army!"

  "It's already past two o'clock," Dikouros snapped back, "it'll be light in about three hours. I'll deal with it in the morning. That is all!" he slammed the phone down and went back to the party. He had had his eye on a little brunette and hoped that one of the senators had not claimed her already.

  Tiberius swore at the telephone with all the elegance of someone who had spent his entire life in the army. When he had finished he told the orderly to start contacting the legates of the other legions along the Rhine. If Dikouros was not prepared to do something then Tiberius would. Even if it meant a court martial.

  This time it only took a few minutes to make contact with the commander of the legio IV Primogenia even though it was stationed over a hundred miles away near Moguntiacum. The legate there was an old friend and it did not take long to persuade him to alert his command as well. He was just about to ask him to contact the next legion when the line went dead.

  Tiberius looked at the useless telephone in his hands and yelled to the orderly that he had been cut off.

  "All the lines are down sir," cried back the orderly who was frantically trying out all the connections on his board. "They must have been cut!"

  Chapter Fourteen

  2nd August 1920

  Headquarters, legio I Germanica

  After handing the plans over to his uncle, Cornelius had been directed to a room in the officers’ quarters. He was exhausted and collapsed onto the bed without undressing and fell into a deep sleep. He would probably have slept until the following afternoon had he not been woken up by the sound of gun fire and an explosion that shattered the window of his room.

  He sat up, disorientated and confused by the noise around him, the room lit by the red glow of flames from outside. As his mind began to clear, Cornelius remembered where he was and realised what was happening. The war had started and a Saxon advance team was making an attack on the legions headquarters.

  Leaping off the bed, Cornelius ran to the door, broken glass crunching under his feet, glad he had not taken off his boots earlier. He opened the door and looked out into the dimly lit hallway before leaving the room and heading for the exit. He was half way there when a legionary with a hand gun appeared in front of him. Cornelius was about to ask him what was happening when the soldier brought up his gun and fired.

  Cornelius dived onto the floor as soon as the saw the gun being raised and heard the bullet hit the wall close to where he had been standing. Cornelius shouted that he was a Roman and to stop firing. The legionary approached Cornelius slowly, keeping his gun on him. From his prone position, Cornelius could see that the soldier was very young and had a cut on the side of his head. He was constantly wiping the blood out of his eyes.

  "Who are you!" demanded the legionary, who was breathing heavily and with some difficulty.

  "I'm Cornelius Petronius, nephew of Legate Tiberius Petronius!" Cornelius did not normally approve of name dropping but considered it justified in the present circumstances. The legionary did not look convinced but hesitated and did not fire again.

  Cornelius got to his feet slowly, the legionary covering him as he did. Then it dawned upon him that he was still dressed in the clothes that he had been wearing since he had left Minden and hardly looked like the relative of a senior Roman officer.

  "I've just arrived from Saxony," said Cornelius, indicating his distinctly un-Roman like appearance, "and have not had a chance to change."

  The young legionary still kept his gun on Cornelius but relaxed slightly. Cornelius breathed a little easier. A tribune came through the door at the end of the corridor.

  "Cornelius," he said, "are you all right?"

  He was one of the officers who had been with his uncle earlier, and at this confirmation of Cornelius's identity, the legionary swiftly dropped his gun to his side.

  "I'm fine," said Cornelius smiling at the embarrassed legionary, "just tell me what's been happening."

  "A group of about twenty to thirty Saxons got inside the perimeter fence and tried to get into the legates quarters," he explained. "Luckily we had been alerted by your warning and they were spotted. But not before they had blown up the legate's house."

  "Damage and casualties?" asked Cornelius, automatically slipping back into his old military role.

  "We've a dozen dead and wounded, but fortunately the house was empty. Your uncle is still in the operations centre. He hasn't moved from there since you arrived."

  "What about the Saxons?"

  "Dead or taken prisoner," replied the tribune with satisfaction. "Your uncle wants to see you straight away," he added remembering why he had come looking for Cornelius in the first place.

  Tiberius Petronius was busy giving orders to a group of officers when Cornelius arrived at the legion's operations centre. The room was full of grim faced men. Armed legionaries in full battle dress were posted around the room.

  As Cornelius approached, the officers around Tiberius saluted and left, leaving his uncle alone peering at a detailed map of the area around Colonia Agrippina.

  "The telephone lines have been cut," he said without taking his eyes off the map. "And until I get word from my front line units I don't know what is happening!"

  Tiberius hit the table with his fist in frustration and then turned to his nephew.

  "I need information Cornelius. You've read their plans. I need to know what they are going to do."

  Cornelius studied the map and then turned to his uncle. He had only managed to read through the stolen plans once during his trek to the Rhine and although there was a mass of detail, there was no overall strategic overview in the safe and it would require a lot of analysis before would he had taken could be useful to a battlefield commander. All he could tell his uncle was the bare outlines.

  "The Saxon attack comprises three main thrusts," explained Cornelius, pointing to the map of the Rhine frontier, "one here at Colonia Agrippina, another further south at Moguntiacum, and one through the Duchies at Argentoratum."

  "What's their objective?" asked Tiberius.

  "It must be Lutetia," said Cornelius pointing to the map. "Everything in the plans point towards it."

  Tiberius examined the map as though looking for something hidden in the contours and forests represented by the colours on the paper.

  "That's what we expect them to do," said Tiberius shaking his head. "Lutetia is not only the provincial capital of Gaul but the hub for all the rail and road links - it's the obvious target. It sounds too obvious."

  He turned to Cornelius. "You must take this information to the Rhine army headquarters. There must be more to the Saxon plans than just a drive on Lutetia. If anyone can work out what it is, you can."

  He called over the legions adjutant. "Virgil, see to it that Cornelius gets transport and an escort to Augusta Treverorum. But first," he gave Cornelius an appraising look, "get him cleaned up and issued with a uniform." He gave his nephew a smile, the first one to cross his face since Cornelius had arrived. "You look like a Saxon peasant, and smell a lot worse. I wouldn't want one of my legionaries taking a shot at you!"

  2nd August 1920

  East coast of Britannia

  Dawn was breaking as the aircraft involved in operation Sea Lance approached the coast of Britannia. Trusting that the directions provided by the navigation ships during the night were correct, the flight leader turned his force north and followed the coast line towards the Imperial Naval Base at Peturia.

  In the harbour, the
ships of the Classis Britannia lay peacefully at anchor. A few cruisers and escorts were on patrol in the Oceanus Germanica, but all five battleships were in harbour. The Caledonian Navy was no match for the Imperial Fleet and the mere presence of an Imperial battle squadron was enough to secure naval superiority for the Empire. The boilers of the battleships were not even lit, a legacy of the previous year’s austerity measures.

  As they approached the city of Peturia, seventeen model V fighters split off and headed towards the airfield located a few miles away from the harbour. The remaining thirty-eight aircraft, all model VII bombers, separated into two groups. Thirteen began a slow dive towards the harbour while the rest maintained their current altitude.

  The first target to be struck was the airfield which was being used as a base for a number of air cohorts transferred from the Rhine army. The rebels had no aircraft of their own so the fighters and bombers were lined up all along the runways ready for the coming days sorties, making a perfect target for the Saxons. They dropped their bombs amongst the tightly packed imperial aircraft and then returned to strafe the airfield.

  The thirteen bombers which had broken away from the main force attacked cruisers and escorts in the harbour. The pilots dropped their bombs on the sterns of the Roman ships aiming to penetrate the thin deck armour and to cripple the ships engines. The remaining Saxon bombers circled the harbour like vultures identifying their targets. Instead of their standard load each of these bombers carried only a single bomb, a converted large calibre armour piercing naval shell. Slowly and deliberately, the bombers split into five groups, one for each battleship and flew a steady course directly over their victims.

  Each battleship was targeted by five Saxon bombers. At the optimum altitude recommended by the air force ordinance technicians who had converted the shells, only 30% of the bombs were expected to hit a stationary target, but the crews on the planes involved in Sea Lance were the best that Saxony had. The ‘Emperor Vespasian’ was hit by 3 shells, two of which penetrated through to the boiler rooms completely destroying them. The bridge and fire direction equipment of the ‘Alexus III’ were wrecked by two hits whilst the ‘Justinian the Great’ received four hits causing a major list. The ‘Emperor Theodosius’ was only hit twice but the explosions started fires below deck which the crew could not contain and the magazines had to be flooded to prevent an explosion.

  The ‘Caesar Augustus’ had been undergoing major maintenance and repairs at the time of the attack and some of the blast doors to the magazine had been left open. Three of the converted shells hit the ship and one of these exploded beneath the aft turrets. The blast from the shell shot through the gunnery area and found its way to one of the magazines. The rear of the battleship erupted in a bright orange fireball blowing the rear turrets a hundred feet into the air. An escort moored nearby was capsized by the force of the explosion and several more ships were damaged.

  The Saxon bombers, escorted by the fighters headed back out to sea away from the thick black smoke rising from the harbour. One fighter and three bombers had been lost to anti-aircraft fire from the surprised defenders. No imperial aircraft had managed to get into the air to contest the Saxon attack.

  It was a small price to pay for the neutralisation of an Imperial Fleet.

  2nd August 1920

  Headquarters, legio I Germanica

  It was daylight by the time Cornelius was ready to leave his uncle’s headquarters. The muffled sound of distant artillery could be heard, and the legions headquarters had been attacked again, this time by Saxon aircraft.

  Washed, shaved and wearing a clean uniform, Cornelius returned to the operations centre. Tiberius had re-activated his military commission and had given him the temporary rank of deputy legate. It would give him some authority when dealing with army headquarters, Tiberius told him. Once again he found his uncle studying the maps and giving orders to those around him.

  "It's not looking good," he said as Cornelius came up beside him. "They attacked the airfields and the supply depots last night as well as cutting all the communication lines."

  "How long before you can re-establish contact?" asked Cornelius.

  "At least two hours," he waved a piece of paper at Cornelius. It was hand written and had what looked like blood stains in one corner. "The Saxons have already crossed the Rhine at Colonia Agrippina. The auxiliary cohort in the city has been overwhelmed and reduced to a few scattered groups but they did manage to get a despatch rider out with this message."

  He pointed to a fresh pencil mark on the map. "I have the 3rd cohort establishing a blocking position about five miles outside the city along this ridge, but it will be midday at the earliest before any artillery or armoured vehicles will arrive to support them."

  He turned to another map. "I don't know what's happening elsewhere along the frontier but I doubt whether they are any better off than we are."

  "What are you going to do?" asked Cornelius.

  "Stick to our existing defence plans," replied Tiberius, "without more information there is nothing else that I can do. If I try to change things now without good information and a plan it will just make the situation worse."

  Tiberius used his finger to indicate a line of red stars that lay parallel to the Rhine. "Our strategy is for the auxiliary infantry to hold the 'Trajan Line' of forts along the frontier with the mobile auxiliary units launching local counter attacks to slow the Saxons down."

  He turned away from the map to look Cornelius straight in the eye. "The legions will back up the line of forts," he continued but there was a mocking note in his voice. "Once the Saxon offensive has begun to run out of steam, they will launch an attack of their own to drive them back over the river."

  "You don't sound very confident," said Cornelius, picking up on his uncle's tone.

  "I'm missing nearly a third of my legion!" snapped Tiberius raising his voice suddenly. "Other legates along the Rhine are in even worse shape. How confident would you feel!"

  Tiberius calmed down and put his hand on his nephew's arm. "I'm sorry Cornelius," he apologised, "it's not your fault. Without you the situation would be a great deal worse. The auxiliary units were hardly affected by the transfer of troops to Britannia and the forts are still fully manned. Hopefully that should hold them up long enough for our men across the channel to return and for reinforcements to be sent from the armies along the Danube."

  "Will you be able to hold them for that long," queried Cornelius.

  Tiberius took a deep breath and stared at the map again.

  "I really don't know," he replied. "The 'Trajan Line' blocks all the roads from the frontier into Gaul, and until they are taken the Saxons won't be able to move up large quantities of supplies. The forts are designed to hold for two to three weeks. By that time the first reinforcements should have arrived."

  "The Saxons are sure to know all this," said Cornelius. "They must have a strategy to counter it, and I know that it's in the details of those plans."

  "Then that's what you must find out," said Tiberius. "And persuade that spineless idiot Dikouros to do something about it!"

  Fifteen minutes later Cornelius took the plans and left in a motor carriage escorted by a pair of motorised bicycles. They took the back roads to Augusta Treverorum as the main road which ran parallel to the Rhine had already been blocked by the Saxons.

  Cornelius could see aircraft in the sky and hear the sound of artillery but otherwise the countryside looked strangely peaceful that morning. Small groups of civilians were fleeing from the frontier, on foot, with carts and even a few in motor vehicles, but not enough to block the roads as yet. They were stopped several times at road blocks manned by nervous auxiliary soldiers who examined their travel pass in detail before allowing them to continue.

  As they got closer to Augusta Treverorum, signs of confusion and chaos became more evident. Soldiers milled around fields and villages, artillery and landships sat immobile along the side of the road while officers wandered around shou
ting at each other. They were held up at a bridge over the Mosella for nearly two hours as two units tried to cross in opposite directions. It was late in the afternoon before they managed to reach army headquarters.

  Cornelius dismissed his escort and sent them back. Tiberius would need every man that he could find, especially dispatch riders. His rank and the pass from Tiberius got him through most of the checkpoints but when he got to the operations centre, he found his way barred by a squad of heavily armed legionaries.

  "I'm sorry sir," said the optio in charge, respectfully but firmly. "Only army staff officers are allowed in."

  "But I must see General Dikouros immediately," pleaded Cornelius, "I have critical information about the Saxon attack!"

  The soldier would not be budged, but Cornelius was not going to give up that easily and demanded to speak to a senior officer. Eventually the optio sent one of his men to fetch someone.

  Ten minutes later, the soldier returned with a tribune whom Cornelius recognised and greeted with relief. "Silvanus Anemas!" shouted Cornelius as the intelligence officer approached. "Get me inside. I have important information on the Saxon attack!"

  The tribune looked vacantly at Cornelius for a second before recognition spread across his face, "Cornelius Petronius! What are you doing here, and in uniform?"

  Silvanus passed Cornelius through the guards and took him to his office where he listened enthralled to the story of the theft of the plans and subsequent flight across the Rhine. When Cornelius had finished, Silvanus eyed the briefcase, eager to inspect its contents.

  "It's mainly raw data rather than information," said Cornelius, trying to temper Anemas's enthusiasm, "but it will give us an idea of their capabilities, but first I must see Dikouros. He may not have been happy to see me last time but with this..." Cornelius tapped the briefcase, "I'm sure he will be more receptive."