The Eternal Empire

by Geoff Fabron

  Shortly after, one of the two men swiftly made his way out of the town heading west. He was confident that Monomachus would pay very well for the information that Alexander was in Arcadiopolis with hardly any men to protect him.

  2nd September 1920

  Mosa River, Headquarters legio I Italica

  The rumour that the Saxons were about to request a cease-fire had also made their way across the river separating the two armies and although there was no official confirmation the news spread rapidly through the imperial forces. In the wake of the fall of Exanzenus the war weary troops were all too ready to believe it and all along the river, encouraged by the absence of harassing fire from enemy artillery the soldiers began to relax.

  The attack by twelve regiments under Franz Maleric came as a complete surprise.

  Cornelius was at the headquarters of the legio I Italica, about two miles behind the river when the attack began. He had spent the previous evening reviewing the legion’s dispositions and briefing the legions’ officers on the army’s defence plan. He had stayed there overnight and had just woken up and was about to shave when the first shells began to land in the headquarters compound. Cornelius rushed out of the tent and dived head first into the nearest trench.

  As the initial barrage subsided, Cornelius raised his head above the parapet and looked around the devastated headquarters area. Smoke from burning vehicles drifted lazily in the still morning air and a pair of horses’ galloped panic stricken through the chaos. About a hundred yards away was the legionary command post, a hastily built bunker dug into the soft clay soil covered with tree trunks and a layer of earth. It had taken a direct hit.

  Cornelius climbed out of the trench and ran over to the bunker. At the bottom of the earthen stairs that led down to the post, he found a tribune crawling out from under a collapsed beam. Cornelius helped him to get free and then set him up against the sandbags that protected the entrance. Looking back into the command post, all he could see was a wall of wooden beams and earth and he realised that the roof had collapsed.

  "Who was in there?" Cornelius asked the soldier whom he recognised as the legions senior tribune.

  "Everyone," he replied grimacing. Both his legs had been crushed. "It was the morning officers meeting. The legate, adjutant, all the tribunes and senior centurions were in there. I was on my way to fetch you when the roof fell in."

  Cornelius looked into the shattered bunker again. The chances of anybody getting out of there alive were remote. That meant that the only major combat unit in the area had been effectively decapitated. And he was the highest-ranking officer in the vicinity.

  "Where's the nearest combat unit," demanded Cornelius.

  "The fourth cohort," he replied after a couple of deep breaths. "It's about a mile from here towards the river."

  A few soldiers began to dig their way into the bunker looking for survivors. Cornelius called one of them over and told him to take care of the tribune. He then commandeered a motorcycle and headed for the fourth cohort.

  On a raised piece of ground on the West bank of the Mosa, Franz Maleric stood watching as more Saxon troops were ferried across on rafts and in small boats. Engineers had begun to assemble a pontoon bridge but Franz knew that the number of infantrymen he managed to get across the river in the next few hours would decide today’s battle. Edwin, dressed for battle with a steel helmet and carrying the short rifle favoured by Saxon infantry officers joined Franz on the small knoll.

  "We've cleared the river front and overrun their second line of defence, "he informed Franz, a look of jubilation on his face.”I'm taking the 18th regiment and continuing the advance towards Vouzaria."

  The small town of Vouzaria was the main rail and road hub in the area and its loss would severely disrupt the Roman supply lines.

  "Go Edwin. Drive them all before you. One more victory and there will be no more talk of a 'cease fire'." He spat the word out in disgust.

  "One more victory!" repeated Edwin, and left to rejoin his men.

  A group of sullen but defiant Roman prisoners were marched past by their guards as Franz looked on with satisfaction. He felt for the piece of paper in his pocket as he had done regularly that morning. It contained the announcement of a great victory over the imperial forces and called on the rest of the army to join his drive on Lutetia. As soon as Vouzaria had fallen he would send it to every Saxon formation still on the East bank of the river.

  The 4th cohort of the legio I Italica was also in a state of confusion, but Cornelius quickly identified their senior centurion who was busy getting his unit back into some semblance of order. Informed of the loss of all the legions senior officers he acknowledged the right of Cornelius to take over command and gave him a summary of what he knew.

  "The Saxons are across the river in strength but so far only on a fairly narrow front, no more than a mile. The auxiliary cohort manning the river defences has been overwhelmed and we have just lost contact with our advance century."

  "Are you in contact with the rest of the legion?" demanded Cornelius. "I must contact them."

  The centurion led Cornelius to the cohort’s command post, a sandbagged position inside a small copse. A table with a map of the area took up most of the space but along one wall was a field telephone.

  "I'm still in touch with the 2nd and the 5th cohorts as well as one artillery battery sir," said the legionary manning the telephone, "but the lines to the rest of the legion must have been cut by the Saxon artillery barrage."

  Cornelius moved over to the map and his practised eye quickly took in the situation.

  "Vouzaria. They must be going for Vouzaria," he said partly to himself and partly for the benefit of the centurion. He looked at the map again, trying to find somewhere to form a line of defence, but he did not find one.

  "Order a general retreat to Vouzaria," he told the centurion. "We haven't got the time or the manpower to hold them anywhere else. Send a courier to the town to warn whoever is there that we are coming." He turned to the soldier still trying, in vain, to raise other units of the legion on the telephone. "Tell the artillery to lay down a barrage to cover our withdrawal."

  The centurion saluted and began to leave to implement the new legates orders. Cornelius called after him. "Send me a dispatch rider. I must get word to General Comenus immediately."

  Otherwise thought Cornelius, my first experience as the commander of a legion is likely to be rather short-lived.

  2nd September 1920

  Vouzaria,Gaul

  By midday the Saxons had launched three separate attacks on Vouzaria and the legionaries of the legio I Italica now only held the centre of the town. The suburbs were in flames, some fires caused indirectly by the fighting, others by either the Saxons to support an attack or by the imperial defenders to cover their withdrawal further into the town.

  The fighting was desperate and mainly at close quarters, especially once the Saxons had penetrated into the town itself. As the number of defenders fell Cornelius slowly contracted his defence line.

  Vouzaria was built on a flat plain in the bend of a small river, which was a tributary of the River Mosa. The railway centre with its large station, marshalling yards, workshops and warehouses nestled in the bend of the river on the east bank. A series of railway bridges across the river led into the station like arteries into a heart and the town had grown around this complex, its streets radiating out from the station in a series of semi-circles.

  The first defence line had been on the edge of the town with both flanks protected by the river. The initial Saxon assault on the town had been beaten off but the second attack was better prepared and more successful. Cornelius had ordered his men to retire to a series of barricades that had been erected by those civilians who had not fled. Some groups of legionaries were cut off from the outer defences during the retreat and made desperate last stands in side streets or buildings. The ferocity and intensity of the fighting was such that little quarter was asked or received. The Saxons
immediately launched a third attack on this second line but it was repulsed, and a lull occurred as they reorganised their forces.

  A few reinforcements had arrived, but General Comenus, believing the ceasefire was a ruse was now expecting attacks all along his front and dare not risk releasing his few remaining reserve formations. The legions 3rd cohort, now only 350 men strong, had turned up during the third attack and Cornelius had led it in person to relieve the battered remnants of the 5th cohort, holding the centre of the line.

  Cornelius was returning to his headquarters in the railway station when he came upon a medical post operating out of a small church. He saw Fulvia outside giving a soldier who was waiting to be attended to by the small group of doctors and nurses a drink of water.

  "What are you doing here Fulvia?" he demanded. "The front line's only a couple of hundred yards away!"

  "And whose fault is that!" she countered lightly as though she was exchanging witticisms at a dinner party, "I've got my job patching your soldiers up. It's your job to keep the Saxons away."

  Cornelius ignored the jibe. "I thought you were an administrator, not a nurse," he said noticing the blood stained apron that she wore.

  "Not much paperwork at the moment," she replied with a smile, "and they can always use another pair of hands. However," she added with a stubborn grin, "I'm still not changing bedpans."

  For the first time that day Cornelius smiled. Fulvia's indomitable spirit had raised his own, if only momentarily. ‘If you can laugh in the face of danger’, he thought to himself, ‘you are strong enough to confront it, and if you can confront it, you can win’.

  Cornelius told Fulvia that she should get the aid post moved to the station, or better still over the river before the Saxons broke through.

  "Surely they would respect a hospital, especially one in a church! After all they're not Turks or Arabs!"

  "Usually I would agree, but in the heat of battle, and after the heavy casualties that we have inflicted on them, I wouldn't depend upon the enemies’ restraint for the safety of your people and their patients."

  Fulvia reluctantly agreed and began to issue orders. She would have made a first class centurion Cornelius thought as he continued back to his headquarters. He would tell her that when the war was over, although he would have to make sure there was nothing close at hand that she could throw at him.

  2nd September 1920

  Mosa River, Headquarters of Saxon 54th Regiment

  The Romans had not been the only ones who were surprised by the Saxon attack that morning. At first General Godisger had thought that the Roman Army of Asia Minor had arrived and had launched a counter attack. He ordered the army to stand to and there were several exchanges of fire across the river between two confused and nervous armies.

  Eventually it became clear that only the regiments commanded by Edwin were involved and that they had crossed the Mosa. Godisger drove to the army headquarters accompanied by some troops from the 54th regiment to find the army operations room almost deserted.

  "They have all crossed the river, General," said one of the few remaining occupants, a crippled soldier assigned to desk duties, "Tribune Maleric has taken every able bodied man with him to fight. He left this letter for you, sir."

  Godisger took the envelope and tore it open. It contained the rumpled notice of the cease-fire from Minden and a short note signed by Franz Maleric.

  'We have come too far to have victory snatched from our grasp by weak willed politicians and cowards. I will lead the attack myself to show that with determined leadership we can win. Bring the rest of the army behind us and the Roman legions will be destroyed. Saxony has waited for revenge for three decades - it must not wait any longer.'

  Godisger read the letter again. Although his face did not show it he felt ashamed and guilty. He had made Franz Maleric and the others into what they were. The defeat of the Romans was all that he had lived for these past thirty years and he had instilled his own hatred into this new generation. They now believed in victory at all costs. Godisger now knew that some victories were not worth the price that had to be paid.

  The General turned to the commander of the men who had accompanied him.

  "Tribune Maleric is to be arrested," he said to a shocked room. "All Saxon forces across the Mosa are to disengage and withdraw. Contact the Roman commander and inform him that we request a cease fire prior to discussing the complete withdrawal of our forces back across the Rhine."

  Enough was enough. It was time to stop.

  2nd September 1920

  Arcadiopolis, Thrace

  Stephanie let a cigarette and helped herself to a large goblet of red wine from the bar. She had left Alexander sleeping deeply in their room after a Guard medic had given him a sedative and had come down to the deserted bar.

  “His Majesty is well I trust?” The voice echoed slightly in the empty room.

  Stephanie turned to see Exanzenus by the doorway. He made his way into to bar, found a comfortable chair a few yards away from where she was standing and sat down.

  Stephanie remained standing, gave the First Minister a distaining look and took an elegant sip from the goblet. “So, what are you going to do now? Everybody is against you. The assembly has always hated you, the senate will disown you and the army would happily shot you. Shortly Alexander will be looking for a scapegoat and I think you are perfectly qualified for the job.”

  “If I fall Stephanie Dikouros, so do you.” Exanzenus gave her a cold look. “I have plenty of evidence about ‘our arrangement’, plus some additional rather scandalous stories about you, which while not true, will play very well with the newspapers and the crowds. I very much doubt even your renowned bedroom skills will save you once it becomes public that you have been working for me all along.”

  “You bastard.” Spat Stephanie.

  “That’s as maybe, but I don’t take betrayal from anyone! You were well paid to keep Alexander distracted and well disposed to me becoming First Minister - not to undermine me and follow your own agenda.” Exanzenus stood up. “I suggest that you think upon our situation and use your charms to find a solution for both of us.” He turned his back on her and left the room.

  Stephanie watched him leave then had another cigarette, drank some more wine and for once did what Exanzenus asked. Think. After several more cigarettes and most of a bottle of wine she had a plan. “Time to get out of here I think.”

  She made her way up to the room she shared with Alexander where she collected the jewellery that she had managed to grab when they fled the palace as well as the purses of gold and gems she always travelled with. Then she sat on the bed next to the sleeping Emperor, stroked his forehead for a few moments and them kissed him tenderly. “Goodbye Alexander. It was fun while it lasted... and quite rewarding as well.” She got up, left the room and walked out of the hotel.

  She found a few shops that were still open where she picked up some non-descript clothes into which she changed, and a bag before joining one of the groups of refugees heading away from the fighting. She had sufficient money on her and not insignificant funds in various private bank accounts around the empire. As she made her way out of Arcadiopolis she reflected that life need not be that bad for a rich and attractive widow.

  2nd September 1920

  Vouzaria

  Infantrymen of the Saxon 17th regiment rested amongst the ruins. Some cleaned their rifles or patched up a wounded comrade whilst others used the time for a few minutes sleep. Edwin moved from group to group talking with the junior officers, giving field promotions to fill gaps in the chain of command and reorganising units that had taken heavy losses.

  A dozen soldiers appeared out of the smoky haze that covered most of the town and from their clean uniforms Edwin took them for reinforcements. Then he recognised Franz, his staff officer's uniform partially disguised by helmet, battle harness and rifle.

  Franz drew Edwin aside. "Godisger has abandoned us," he told him quietly. "He has cut off all supplie
s and sent orders to withdraw. The 21st and 34th Regiments - our reserves - are already pulling back."

  Franz spoke calmly without a hint of anger. There was a perverse aura of peace about him. "He also sent orders for my arrest, but they refused to do it." He turned his head briefly to indicate the others who had come with him. All were junior staff officers and like Franz were now equipped as infantry. "I told them I was going to the front and they insisted on coming."

  "Why have you come Franz?" asked Edwin.

  "I'm not giving up this fight. We still have enough men to break through and even if the rest of the army does not follow we can make a point. We could have won were it not for the pusillanimous actions of the council and the army high command. History will judge us and history will condemn those who held us back."

  Franz looked his friend in the eyes. "Are you with me Edwin?"

  There was no hesitation in his voice. "Of course I am."

  2nd September 1920

  Arcadiopolis, Thrace

  Smoke hung heavily over the city, but most of the fires had burnt themselves out or had been extinguished by now. The rebel Moesian legions had killed the Praetorian defenders and now Alexander and Ex-Chief Minister Exanzenus stood before Monomachus, self-styled Emperor in the ruins of what had once been a luxurious villa on the outskirts.

  "So Alexander," said Monomachus, reclining casually on a dining couch that had been hastily draped with a purple cloth, "what am I to do with you?"

  Alexander stared back at him sullenly but said nothing.

  "Having two Emperors doesn't work. It's been tried in the past and only causes more problems than it solves. Of course in the old days we could have just put your eyes out," Alexander winced at this but still remained silent. "But that's regarded as rather barbaric nowadays. I suppose I could have you locked up in a monastery - another 'traditional' solution - but given your known depravity, that would be a fate worse than death for you and I'm not a cruel man." He smiled in a way that questioned that claim.