The Eagles of Avalon

Fulcrumvale: I guess I wanted to give Romulus a little bit of sense, even if it perhaps comes too late.

Darks63: Indeed, Remus coming back to Italia is like the story coming full circle.

cthulhu: Well, that's the tragedy of the man, I suppose...if he never lets that sentiment go.

Chief Ragusa: I think Romulus, and probably Varic, are hoping to use Remus one last time, leaving him in place in his position and playing on his loyalties. Risky after his exile, but that's their mode of thinking. I'm not sure Selenus will be able to capture Lilybaeum without a large enough navy...from my readings on the Vandals, I'm thinking Selenus is lucky the Vandals are too busy fighting the Berbers and Moors to truly concentrate on him.

Vincent Julien: Indeed it has, now it's to you to write the next part. Yes, Theuderic is part of the first link in the clientiarii chain binding Gaul together.

Draco Rexus: Tangled, for sure, and thanks. One thing I know I've tangled up is the dates...when I go back through this story, polishing it up, I'm going to need to adjust the years...it's been very easy sometimes for me to forget what year I'm in, hehe.

Deamon: Sometimes I laugh at myself when I think how simple it seemed when the story began. A story about Remus' rise, sure, but then on to the good stuff in Brittania. But the more I write on the Continent, the more interesting it becomes, and the more I want to fully flesh out my ideas. I've been wracking my brains lately, wondering if I honestly should rename the storyline. The Britain part might make a good climax, but it doesn't seem to be the critical point in the rise of Remus, Claudius, the West, etc. If anything, it's the closing act...but we'll see.

Spothisto: Thank you! As this next update will highlight, one wonders if Remus has matched the practicality of Caesar.

TreizeV: Honored, sir, and welcome aboard! Your L'Empereur works are classics in their own right.

Lord E: Thanks, sir! Remus is slowly developing into his own man, but he's not quite there yet. Even after all the struggle in Gaul, the abandonment and the rise using his own abilities, he's still not quite prepared to jettison his imperial notions.

boehm: All too likely...I'm sure VJ will have something to say about this.

Silence descended upon the battered walls of Mediolanum as its garrison stood to, watching impassively and with mounting nervousness, the arrival of the large Roman army along the Via Gallica. It was as if the earth had gone still, the heavy clouds casting an evening shadow over the western walls, scant beams of sunlight providing the only daylight. A single horn occasionally pierced the silence, blaring out from the distant columns, boldly announcing the arrival of this unexpected military force. Secure enough behind their fortifications, the soldiers lining the walls could not help, however, but be impressed by the precision of the army as individual columns peeled off to form the outlines of a military camp. The mass of heavy infantry and cavalry was awesome to behold, a force rivaling that any of the experienced legionaries had seen in their campaigns with Claudius. Then there were the wagons, the baggage and siege train and many wondered if there was to be a battle.


The rumors had flown for weeks as word of a strong force decamping from the Alps and racing through Cisalpine Gaul. Claudius had given orders to let the army pass down the Via Poenina through Aosta without incident, yet that did not settle the matter for some. The Empire was not supposed to have any armies outside of Italia, to say nothing of one as powerful and disciplined as this. Where had it come from? And what did it mean? There were a few soldiers, grim-eyed veterans who had seen more than their share, convalescing in the town, recovering from battlefield wounds. They whispered that it was the return of Remus Macrinus. But everyone knew he was dead, killed by the Burgundians…or was it the Visigoths? Or the Franks? Surely he had perished. Yet what was this army then?

To the surprise of many in the garrison, the gates immediately opened, the new wooden doors of the Porta Occidentalis swinging wide to allow a small party of horsemen to trot purposefully towards the growing encampment half a league away. A second party of horsemen soon broke away from a column of heavy cavalry currently tramping up the Via Gallica. Both parties carried their standards, both eagles. Yet while the Mediolanum standard was the traditional Roman eagle, its wings tucked inward with the head looking vigilant off to the left, the newcomer’s eagle was different, a bold silver with the eagle’s wings spread wide, as if in flight. Scarcely visible from the walls, some wondered if they meant the same thing. They would’ve been even more shocked had they known they were witnessing a reunion.

”This is a large escort you bring with you, Remus,” Claudius said easily, though his eyes couldn’t hide their favorable appraisal. He was silent for a moment, scanning the disciplined ranks of cataphractii trotting past. These weren’t for show, he noticed immediately. Their armor had seen many tough battles. ”I see you’ve solved the problem of the heavy horse,” he said quietly, as if this was a discussion on military tactics and strategy. He seemed to catch himself, and turned back to Remus with a bemused smile. ”Well then, welcome to Mediolanum, my new home. Safe journey?”

Remus nodded as he sat casually on his own horse, his eyes mirroring Claudius’ as he scanned the city walls, instinctively searching for weakness. ”Safe enough. There was one Burgundian chieftain who hadn’t gotten the news in time. I passed on the message swiftly enough,” he said, and Claudius’ eyes flickered to the siege train in the distance. How long had it been since he had seen ballistae in the field? He was transported back to his first meeting with Remus at the camp in Latium, the defeated general and the victorious young rebel. Why did he feel the same nervous fear?

”I heard Romulus had recalled you, yet I scarcely think he expected you to bring your army.”


”He explicitly ordered me to leave my army behind.” Pausing for a moment, he seemed to pick his words delicately. ”I’m convinced the Imperator was misinformed of the level of danger in the Alpine provinces. A strong force was needed to allow me to carry out my orders.”

Claudius’ eyebrows rose as the side of his mouth curled. ”Subtlety from Remus Macrinus? One wonders what went on in Gaul.” He laughed, holding up a hand to forestall Remus’ retort. ”Say no more. Your Gallic campaign is already being discussed in military circles, you know. Some compare it to Caesar’s own.”

Remus flushed a little, his mind casting back briefly to his dreams. They hadn’t come recently, but they never left his thoughts. His eyes fell upon Claudius’ escort, and he noticed a particular Roman officer eyeing him with open interest. The armor didn’t strike him as Italian in manufacture, yet clearly he was an officer, an experienced one at that.

His eyes following Remus’ gaze, Claudius nodded. ”Ahhh, my other guest. Seems Mediolanum is a focal point for Roman interest these days. But first, is there a place to take the dust off our feet? I imagine you could use a good chair yourself.” Remus nodded with a smile, and led them back towards the camp, both parties moving parallel to the other.

The Praetorium had been one of the first structures to be erected. ”The old camps were a lost art, I always said,” Claudius said with approval as he stepped inside.

”An old primicerium named Gnaeus drilled the practice into my head,” Remus replied as he sat them all comfortably around the hastily erected table. ”Now then…your companion? Clearly you’re not from Suomar’s army.”

The man nodded. ”Maximinus Aurel, Magister,” he said, giving Remus a quick salute as he sat across from him. You could see it in the eyes, he knew, whether a man had killed someone, had seen battle. This officer had seen more than his share of both. He nodded for him to continue. ”I’m a Tribunus detached from the army of the Comes Viator.”

For a moment, Remus blinked, then his mind quickly caught up to him. Since the deaths of Julius Nepos and Glycerius, the Roman province in Dalmatia had lingered under independent military control. Repeated attempts to subjugate it had met with reverses. Italia, the Ostrogoths, and the eastern Empire, had never been able to successfully defeat its armies. First General Ovida had gained a formidable reputation as a mountain fighter and now his successor, Comes Viator, was equally as hard.

He kept quiet for a time, half-listening to the sounds of his army outside, rushing to make camp in record time. They were safely in Italia, yet never would they abandon discipline even in the laxest moment. Situations changed all too quickly.

Claudius cleared his throat. ”The Tribunus arrived soon after I retook Ravenna from the Goths. It appears that Viator wished to keep a channel open to the west.”

Remus looked from general to officer and back. ”No general worth his salt could not help but respect the Comes’ achievements in Dalmatia,” he opened calmly. Maximinus nodded with a gracious smile as he continued. ”Yet why not go to Rome? Surely the Comes’ army could’ve helped suppress Theodoric.” The pair looked uncomfortable, and his eyes quickly narrowed. How he despised maneuvering.

”Simply put, Magister, Maximinus began, ”the Comes does not recognize Romulus Augustul----Augustus, as his emperor.”

The statement dropped like a flat stone, and Remus wasn’t sure if the misspoken name was a deliberate insult or not. He chose to deem it accidental, yet his features flushed at the tone. ”Romulus is the emperor in the West…my emperor. Claudius and I are both subject to him.” He paused and looked at around at his staff officers, each actarius attempting to work, yet clearly straining to hear the discussion. With a word, he dismissed them, sensing the tone of the conversation.

There was a pause as they were left alone and then, leaning forward to take the goblet that had been placed before him, Maximinus spoke quietly. ”Is that, Magister, why you brought an entire army with you to Italia? Even when your…emperor…commanded otherwise?”

Angry, Remus stood, ready to order the man out of his camp, yet Claudius rose with him, interrupting him. ”Remus! Hold!” Breathing tightly, it was all he could do to stop himself. ”You are with him then, Claudius? You know what this is, don’t you? This plotting?”

Claudius shook his head slowly, while Maximinus again pounced, sensing his opportunity. ”No one respects the Empire more than you, Magister, but please listen. Please.” The softening tone at least drew them back from the brink and it was Remus who was the last to sit.

”I was a trooper in my youth, just like you. I served in Nepos’ army, Remus,” he said, daring to assume such a confidence. ”You know, you might’ve seen me at Aquileia.” He smiled and even Remus caught himself trying to picture a young version of Maximinus, tramping around the ruined port. ”I’d heard about what you did, saving Julius’ life.” Maximinus set down his goblet, spread his hands imploringly.

”You must understand, we served Julius Nepos. He was the emperor before Romulus’ father threw him out and installed his own son. When Odoacer took Ravenna and Romulus abdicated, there was no question. Nepos was our emperor. Even Zeno in Constantinople recognized that. Odoacer printed coins in Nepos’ name. After Odoacer and Zeno turned on us, we were on our own, as we are today. We certainly do not recognize Romulus as anything but a usurper.”

Remus felt the heat return, but turned instead to Claudius. ”Why does he come now? Surely he knows whom you serve.”

Leaning back on his chair, Claudius placed his hands atop his legs. ”Remus, I’ve served as long as you in Rome’s armies, Italian and Roman. You are the dreamer, not I. I serve whoever brings order, whoever can rule with some measure of justice. But whether it’s an ancient empire or a barbarian king, I…don’t….care,” he said with emphasis on the last three words.

Remus scoffed, not wishing to believe what he was hearing. ”And what of the army you forged? That wasn’t barbarian discipline you used at Ravenna, that wasn’t Odoacer’s tactics you adopted to protect Italia from the Goths.”


”The army Suomar broke?!” Claudius snapped. ”Yes, I admire the tactics and strategy of the old Empire. But the rulers? Romulus emulates them far too closely, removing generals at a whim. What I had forged, what I had achieved, I had done with very little bloodshed. In a month, Suomar Verus has ruined all of it.”

Again, Remus voiced his question. ”Then answer me, Tribunus,” he said stonily.”Why did Viator send you to Italia? To Claudius?”

”Because the Comes knows the truth of these times that every general knows. The same that Claudius knows and that you know deep down in your heart, Remus. It is the armies who rule, and the generals who are their ruler.”

The stone fell a second time, and Remus found himself instinctively shaking his head. Something awoke inside him, something that tore at him. He could feel the rushing in his mind, the voices from the dreams, the ones he had struggled to suppress. The dream came back, the door, the down turned thumbs, the men glaring at him. The bald general came to mind…take it! He heard the voice inside. Was it the man, was it Caesar who said this? Take it! He heard again, and thought in horror that it was his own voice. With a twitch, he found himself glancing across the table at Claudius and Maximinus, neither appearing concerned. How little time had elapsed?!

”What do you want, Maximinus?” His question faltered, his voice losing its earlier vehemence.

”What we all want, Magister,” the Tribunus replied calmly. ”A strong Empire. Ruled by those with the power and means to bring order and stability. As it has always been, Remus. With your exile, I came to see Claudius first. He rebuffed me, naturally, but didn’t send me away. I think he was waiting…waiting for you to return.”

Remus glanced at Claudius, who couldn’t meet his eye just then. ”Romulus is the emperor. Through him we bring order and stability.”

”Passing water through a corroded pipe quenches nothing, Remus,” Maximinus continued. ”Let us be frank. You, Claudius, and Viator are all great generals. Yet none of us dispute that you are the one above us all, the one who by sheer force of will kept the Empire going. Romulus is a mere token, keeping power only because you let him. His corruption and incompetence corrodes the Empire. Enough of this pretense, Remus. How much longer will you abide him? You have your army. Claudius has Mediolanum and a strong garrison. I can offer the Comes’ army and loyalty. And I’m sure Suomar’s army will rally to your standard.”

With mounting distress, Remus could again feel the rushing, that part of him that he had suppressed for so long, since before he had first journeyed to Aquileia. He remembered the conversations with Gaius, who had openly wondered at his course. Surely he was wrong! Rome needed its symbols, needed it. Take it! The voice returned…his own? No, he realized, it belonged to Maximinus, with Claudius nodding alongside him.

”Enough is enough, Remus. The Tribunus is right. Take it,” Claudius said simply.

With his dignity strained by conflicting thoughts, loyalty and glory at war, Remus slowly stood. After a deliberate pause, he shook his head. ”I cannot turn my back on the Empire. For all that, he is still my emperor…” The tone in his voice reeked of finality, and no more was said. A polite if stiff meal followed, and then Claudius and Maximinus returned to the city in darkness.

The next morning, both army and garrison stood out to watch Remus Macrinus ride southward, with only a single protector as an escort. God help me, he thought to himself as he rode towards Placentia. He would give the loyal soldier one more chance. In his mind, the thumbs again came down.