The Eagles of Avalon

Fulcrumvale: Bloody results are par for the course where this story is concerned.

Chief Ragusa: Well, the ability to alter history on such a dramatic scale as this is based off a long string of almost impossible luck. Though Remus does experience setbacks, too. We'll see if there's one in his near future. As for Burdigala, from what I've read of its terrain, it's got two halves on hills separated by a ravine. The old Roman maps seem to indicate a civil part on the east, with temple and forum, with residences to the west. So figure perhaps half or a little more on the east side, 500-600. Remus has maybe 300 or so total after racing across Gaul. The Goths are on the lookout for him, so they have patrols out, which is why Remus had to circle around and approach from the south. So say maybe 400-500 in the eastern half. If he can get through the aqueduct and take the gate, which is very possible, he's outnumbered but not by much. Plus his army is focused and compact while the Goths are surprised and spread out on the walls and in the key buildings. Taking the city would still be very tough but he could do damage.

stynlan: I was trying to think of an attack plan that none of you guys had mentioned, hehe and which seemed viable. I remembered reading about how Belisarius had sealed the last aqueducts of Rome in the 530s to keep the Goths from penetrating into the city and the idea was born.

Storey: I'm not sure there's a limb on Remus I haven't wounded. He's suffered from exposure, a thigh wound at Mediolanum, and the bad sword wound to his right arm in Gaul.

Darks63: Well, he cultivates officers steadily, I just haven't focused on them enough as characters. Medone is his aide of sorts, more into religious tensions than Remus. There's still Gillenus, the young Gallic officer fending off Clovis at Laudunum (we hope). It's hard to find young Roman officers out here in Gaul, but I'm sure he'll run into many when he returns to Italia with perhaps Gallic-sized chip on his shoulder.

Stuyvesant: Yes, it's about time for Remus to grow into a strategic commander, watching the battles from his horse rather than leading the charge. And just in time as the story will soon bring him opportunity to command real armies in the field.

Draco Rexus: It all depends on what sort of victory it is. So far it's quite a surprise to the Goths that someone can move with such speed and strike so deep into their heartland. It'll make them nervous, and certainly knock their offensive ideas back a little. Maybe give Gallia enough time to deal with the Franks alone.

Lord E: Well, Remus isn't old old, persay. He's simply becoming less agile and not as physically active as he once was. Plus he really hasn't recuperated since that last arm wound. He's been in the field almost constantly. In time, given the chance to have even a few months' rest, he could regain a measure of his physical prowess. Plus he's put his men through a grueling forced march campaign combined with night attack. They are at the limits of their physical endurance.

dublish: Oh, I look forward to Remus' next conversation with Romulus as much as you, though it isn't mapped out in my head yet. This probably won't be a decisive victory over the Visigoths. He simply has too few men and the Visigoths too many for him to prevail right now, even if some elements of the Gallic population leans toward him. But by putting them out of the picture temporarily, it makes the war with the Franks much more palatable. And in time, the Visigoths can be dealt with with significant force.

coz1: Glad you liked the aqueduct imagery, though the imagery of Depends makes me wince.

VILenin: I know we've discussed the soundtrack by PMs, but I heartily endorse the King Arthur soundtrack. Same composer as Gladiator, Hans Zimmer, but with a certain grit and power to it that seems suited to the 5th century rather than the 2nd.

Avernite: I can safely say that this is not Remus' last adventure. But you probably won't see any more personally-led night assaults on towns.

Something whizzed by Remus' head, causing him to flinch. He saw nothing in the darkness, but the sound was unmistakable: arrows, fired blindly from the walls perhaps. No, he corrected himself. There was sporadic torchlight in the courtyard. And on the walls, he realized. "Hasta!" he shouted. On command, two of the nearest soldiers hoisted their spears and flung them in the general direction of the walls, a fruitless gesture, he knew, but one that might keep the enemy soldiers off balance. To his amazement, a distant cry from the eastern wall signaled a hit. The exercise, however, was wasting time. Soldiers with one or two spears were little worth against foes with scores of arrows apiece. The walls, however, were beside the point.


He gazed toward the Porta Garumna the object of the attack. "To me!" he shouted, more bravado than fact as he pushed himself to jog across the stone work. His escort of protectorii lumbered around him, one grunting as an unlucky arrow struck him in the thigh. Too slow, Remus growled to himself. Cursed legs!

They reached the east gate just in time to strike down the last defenders. Clearly the Visigoths were caught completely by surprise, leaving only a small detachment to guard tall wooden doors. Waving his spatha in encouragement, Remus willed his men to push aside the tall beams and help fling open the gate. With a cry from within and without, the remainder of his force poured into Burdigala, still outnumbered but now united and facing off against a scattered garrison.

Remus quickly barked orders to his officers, separating the army into smaller units, reducing their exposure to the desultory enemy fire. They hastily scrambled across down the wide roadway with the same object, the shadowy edifice of the Templum Mercurii. Go…go! With a perseverance born of newfound experience, they stumbled in the darkness towards the templum, closing in from the east in a wide arc. Each small force aimed for its own assigned point, just as they had planned the night before. Like brave fools, individual Visigoths emerged groggily from scattered barracks, to be cut down on the run. All of Burdigala was up in arms, but few of those were protecting the eastern half of the town. With their patrols sent wide to find Remus and the need to watch the entire length of the fortifications, he hoped his force was more than enough to prevail in this quick surprise blow. Having crept out of the aqueduct tunnel to no opposition, his confidence was high and his blood was up.

The first boots trampled up the stone steps, racing between the marble columns to the main entrance. A pair of small lamps flickered above them, casting an eerie glow on the mass now assembling in front of the temple. "Hold!" he barked. The men managed to stop their bold rush in a confusion of shields and armor. A few cursed, but the centurions quickly put them back into order. Remus turned to the nearest protector. "Wood, straw, pitch, anything you can find. Now!" There was no need to look for compliance and he pushed himself up to the top. Almost a full century of his force now controlled the front approach to the temple, half of them holding the ornate entrance and the remainder fanned out behind the columns, safe from enemy view and their arrows. Years of neglect had sooted the marble walls so that the glow of the temple was lessened. The temple no longer dominated the town vista at night, which diminished sight at long distance, a beneficial effect to its decay. Yet the Goths still did not come. Surely their commander was aware of the threat? In their haste to sweep Gaul clean of his army, did they even fathom his temerity in attacking such a distant town? To their doom, then.


"The praefectus! I want his report!" he shouted at a nearby courier, clapping him on the shoulder. If Seric's information was correct, the temple had five entryways, one wide in the front, a small passage on each of the long colonnaded sides, and two hidden holes in the rear for the arrival of supplies. Medone was in command of the force at the rear.

Gradually, and with agonizing delay, groups of his soldiers returned, bearing small bunches of straw, firewood, and more hopeful, an occasional barrel of pitch. Any port had the sticky and flammable substance, though not so far from the waterfront. It was fortune's favor once again, he mused. Or God's. Perhaps He desired the same result Remus did: the temple's destruction. While he certainly had no personal desire to ruin this once proud building, the raid had a purpose.

The first cries from inside emerged like a storm of harsh wind. He could hear the crashes at the doors and sword on sword. Burdigala's garrison was waking up to their danger at last. Too late. On either side of the temple doors, a hastily contrived pile was being laid. Marble and stone would not burn, of course. Yet the wooden framework, the beddings….the people? The Goths would burn, he thought with an unexpected turn of anticipation.

Someone inside must have spotted the kindling for the cries turned from proud battle roars to shouts of desperation. The pressure on the Gallic comite intensified and Remus could visibly see the line sag outward as the temple garrison attempted to bludgeon their way into the open. With a nod to one of his aides, reinforcements were quickly dispatched to snuff out the enemy sortie. The sudden sound of arrows caught his attention and he snapped his gaze towards the south wall. Another tap, more reinforcements rushed along the walls, yet the feared assault proved to be merely small group of Goths stumbling into his men. A scouting party? Or some foolhardy chieftain? Was it truly this easy? Still the Goths did not come in force.

With the front entrance once more secure, he signaled to the men to light torches. Perhaps with an acceptance of their fate or perhaps with survival instinct, the attack on the doors ceased, the defenders now reverting into terrified individuals, now searching for a way...any way, out of the trap. Remus stepped up to his men, torches burning on either side of him. There was no need for ceremony. "Light them."


The flames' roar carried across the courtyard, and all around the Templum Mercurii, the flames licked at the walls and began their inexorable march inside. Screams danced around his ears, and one of the levies, a young bruised soldier, visibly winced. "Surely that wasn't…" he whispered audibly, but subsided under his mates' glares. Did it matter? Remus stared stonily into the burning flames, his eyes wide with the majesty of it. Women or men…they were all Goths. How many, he wondered? Fifty? One hundred? Fire was an effective weapon, he was coming to learn. Nodding to his notarius, the withdrawal began even as the flames began to light up the houses nearest to the temple.