The Eagles of Avalon

Darks63: Yes, indeed, she is. It's interesting...the only little snippet you find of Barbaria (some sources say it is probably her name, but no one says for sure) is that she and her son founded a monastery to St. Severinus around this time. Could be piety, could be doing what one can to advance one's position in such a dark religious time. But that's about it. So my portrayal is nowhere near what the historical Barbaria might be. The pic I use is not of her, of course, but I use a collection of Roman funerary portraits (obviously damaged and incomplete), but this one looked suitably haughty for my purposes.

cthulhu: Well, Odoacer did defeat Orestes early on in the story, took Ravenna and Rome and kept Zeno off his back. Plus he fended off Nepos (sort of). So he's not all incompetent, hehe.

Avernite: I think it wouldn't be easy for Selenus to become the next Pope, as a fresh face and not even clerically trained. But who knows?

Lord E: Battles coming, don't you worry. I wanted to set the scene with Barbaria, Selenus, and Romulus enough so that the coming intrigues will seem fleshed out enough.

Midgardmetal: Well, that'll be answered shortly, but an interesting thought though.

TC Pilot: Of course, it is the lot of aristocrats to be out of touch with military reality.

VILenin: In this story, the patrician class has suffered somewhat under Odoacer. Ahistorically, with Odoacer fighting the Goths, then the Burgundians, then Nepos/Ovida, and now Remus, he's sapped the Roman classes for all the treasure and manpower they're worth. So they're weakened, but also not a big fan of Odoacer right now.

coz1: Good point. Barbaria certainly fixated on Selenus early, even before he's been socially trained, dressed, and otherwise.

Charles II: Welcome! And oh yes, the East will definitely notice what's going on in Italia.

April – August 483

The Battle of Tusculum assumes a grave importance in most historical texts, primarily because it was believed, both at the time and in retrospect, that this engagement would decide once and for all that great Italian question, as to whether civilization or barbarism would rule for all time on the ancient peninsula.

By the spring of 483, both sides in the harsh conflict in Italia had had a chance to rest and refit their armies. Heavy raiding took place throughout the various provinces, and few were treated as innocent. Villages were burned, churches torn apart, citizens killed, impressed into service, or worse. While the aristocracy kept itself primly aloof, two armies prepared to meet outside the old Imperial capital for the deciding blow.

Each army, numbering just over ten thousand – a moderate to large force in the 5th century – was a study in opposites. The defending army of the Italian Patriciate, the remaining cream of Odoacer’s military power, had evolved since the debacle at the Calor the prior year. Gone were the vestiges of Roman discipline, formation, and even its commanders. Donatus, the commanding general and a close confidante of Odoacer’s
since his days fighting the Hun, loved to boast that the only Roman blood he possessed was soaked into his cloak, a grisly indication of just how far Rome’s defending army had come. Most of the force was a mix foederati allied troops from scattered tribes, including a fierce Illyrian infantry contingent. His cavalry was drawn likewise from the north, with horsemen drawn from Liguria, the Alpine tribes, parts of Germania and Gaul, and even some Gothic deserters.

The weaponry of this myriad force was as chaotic as the composition of the troops themselves. Most of the infantry would use the elongated sword, the sax, possibly derived from the northern tribe bearing the name. There was also use of old Roman gladii and the occasional battleaxe (the falxe) or throwing axe (the francisca) with its swept head. The difference in combat power was perhaps the vulnerability of Donatus’ army, though his cavalry was formidable, bearing primarily the fearsome ‘Sarmatian’ heavy sword and the small but deadly frameae lance.

On the other side, the army of Remus Macrinus was a force transitioning into a more professional composition. The commander – he was thought to be a Comes by this time – was experimenting in what would become the backbone of his armies, the concept of ‘mixed cavalry’. Most notably was the use of sagitarii, not just in their traditional role as missile cavalry, but adaptable to melee as well, discarding their short bows – typically when the arrows were spent – and becoming free to engage the enemy in hand-to-hand and slip away at will. These, in particular, were to be used to great effect at Tusculum.

The light, versatile sagitarii​

The heavy cavalry was a cumbersome mix of sword (spatha) and spear (hasta) type. Their primary weakness was their mounts. The incessant demands of armies marching up and down the Italian peninsula had all but denuded the lands of effective horses to use in battle. It is estimated by some sources that a third to a half of Remus Macrinus’ cavalry at Tusculum used smaller, untrained mounts or, in extreme circumstances, draft horses from local farms.

Remus’ infantry was somewhat more standardized by this point. He had come to use a core force of the traditional comitatenses to form the center of his front with a scattering of lighter infantry, local garrison limitanei, to hold the flanks. Thanks to the capture of the vital Capuan fabricae – ‘factories’, which constructed much of the actual weaponry of war – Remus’ army boasted significant uniformity in their use of weapons, though armor was sorely lacking.

By now, all trace of the old late Roman division between fixed and field force was gone, swept away by the constant drafting of garrisons into mobile armies. Few troops could be spared for static duty. The Comes’ final advantage was probably his officer corps, which consisted of deserters from the late Imperial and Patriciate armies, clinging to the only force in which they could survive and thrive. Thus were these two disparate armies coming together outside Rome itself.

Tusculum sat on the northern edge of the Albanus Mons, the Alban Hills, a region of great tradition dating back from Republican times. It was the land of Aequi and the legendary Alba Longa. It lay some eleven leagues to the southeast of Rome, and sat above the Via Latina which snaked by just to the south, once one of the major arteries connecting Rome to the southeast. By 483, with the Roman road system lapsing into disrepair, the Via Latina had become a crumbling ruin in some places, matching perfectly the edifices of old temples and abandoned settlements that lined it in the 5th century. Yet forsaking the use of the more maintained Via Appia to the southwest, the army of Remus Macrinus approached Rome by means of the Via Latina. Tusculum, with its nearby hills, was an ideal place to stop him, and it was here that Donatus set up position to block his foe.


Remus beckoned for Varic to sit, not having much time for idle pleasantries. ”Well, what have you learned?”

Varic simply smiled and helped to himself to a nearby pitcher of water before replying, which, as was his intent, annoyed Remus to the brink of anger. Just before it seemed the general would break, Varic held up his hand, brushed some of the trail dust off his cloak, and set down the goblet with a pleased sigh. ”Patience, general. I have much to tell. Donatus didn’t fall for it, just as I predicted. He hasn’t spared one sword to block the Via Appia. No, general, he’s sitting right in Tusculum, waiting for you.”

Scowling, Remus clenched a fist and stood up, walking to the edge of the tent and watching some of the men break down a nearby tent. The last thing he wanted was a slugging match to push his way into the capital. While Rome was the prize, of course, he knew it wouldn’t end there. Having spent a couple years nurturing the first seedlings of a powerful army, he couldn’t let it break in the field. It was too fragile. He turned around to find Varic beaming, the smug bastard no doubt forming another plan that involved Remus being totally reliant upon him.


”The Via Latina isn’t the only road into Rome from here, you know.”

That surprised Remus, who hadn’t any seen major road leading out of the Compitum Anagninum, a nearby settlement which lay nestled next to a nearby hill. Then it clicked. ”I thought the Via Labicana was practically wilderness by now?” Having fled down that very path years ago, back when he was a fugitive Decurio, he could attest to that. But an army?

Varic shook his head in disappointment. ”You think too Roman, general. Of course the road through Praeneste is overgrown, partially blocked by boulders in some places. You, as a Roman officer, would know that of course. But think of your opponent. How long has Donatus lived in Italia? And not Ravenna and the battlefields of Venetia either. How long near Rome itself?”

As Remus nodded with a respectful ahhh, he could appreciate sometimes how useful Varic could be. Which was what made the man so dangerous. Sensing Remus’ suspicion, Varic stood and walked to the map. ”That’s right, general. Like our lady, her budding emperor, and our other partners in this little enterprise, you’re going to have to trust me. Give me a cohort of light cavalry and two days, and I’ll make Donatus think twice about the Via Labicana approach. That should thin him out a little. You can then march to Tusculum and do your little part in this business.”

Agreeing, Remus began to think about which horse he could spare for Varic’s mission, knowing that the more he used Varic, the harder it would be to discard the man after all this was over.


Having sent a small holding force to the north, Donatus had ensured that the two armies were almost equal at Tusculum. The Comes had slowly brought his force along the route of the Via Latina, clearly nervous about ambush and being outmaneuvered. When he finally spotted the army of Donatus, it was drawn up off the main road, near the branch from the Via Latina up to Tusculum itself. From here, Donatus had tantalizingly left the main road north to Rome wide open, almost daring Remus to gamble on the city, exposing his right flank to the Italian army. It was a proposition the Comes was reluctant to accept, neither was the idea of approaching the defensive position Donatus was occupying, along the shallow crests of the northern Albanii.


Claudius squinted at the map, shaking his head. ”It’s far too risky. If you leave the road, you expose the baggage. We only have a few engines and besides, there’d be nothing left between Donatus and your rear.” Yet he was surprised how self-assured his commander seemed. How could the man be so bold? Having carefully husbanded his army up the Latina, now he commenced to risk it all on one mad sweep?

”You forget, Claudius, that Donatus has a rear too, and he’s made a foolish error in leaving more than one route open to it.” He pointed to the map, his finger resting on the city to the north, but still Claudius did not understand. Remus’ hand then moved to the blank area west of the Via Latina, west of Tusculum.

Claudius frowned. ”That’s wilderness out there, thick underbrush, tall trees. You couldn’t push the men through that and keep formation. The army would move so slow, that Donatus would have all the time he wanted to come down and block you. In the end, you’d still have to attack him frontally.”

There was that look again, Claudius thought with exasperation. Surely the man knew the risk.

Remus sighed and took in some of the night air, never feeling that destiny stood on his shoulders that much. In his deepest dreams, he could sometimes feel like Caesar planning Alesia, or Marius at Vercellae, even Aetius at the Fields. The biggest success required the biggest gamble, did it not? He began to roll up the map. ”You answered your own question, Claudius. Donatus would come down. Hmm?”


Although the battle would be called Tusculum, it would actually be fought some two leagues to the west, in the thickening forests off the Via Latina, where the rough terrain made it difficult for armies to maneuver quickly. Indeed, Remus had spent the better part of the 11th of August traipsing through the brambles, bushes, and knots of trees to slip past Tusculum, a move which predictably drew the ire of his opponent. By mid-morning, with the rebel force so openly moving past his position, Donatus abandoned the hilltop camp west of the town, and swept down to move against Remus’ right flank. Indeed, lacking a large baggage train of his own, the Italian army moved far faster than the Comes had foreseen and was, by dawn of the 12th of August, threatening to roll up the enemy flank before they had time to deploy. His heavy horse was already crossing the Via Latina itself, the rebel army a mere league off, partially in sight in the rugged countryside.

It was at this moment that the sagitarii shined. Fast, flexible, and armed with both the arcus bow and the short semispatha, the mobile horse archers, were thrown into the opening moves of Tusculum with abandon, perhaps surprising the Scirian commander with the sheer desperation of the move. Emerging from the protective canopy of the Latin forest, they quickly engaged Donatus’ cavalry which was taking the lead in his approach march. Moving forward and back with abandon, they unleashed their first volley before their heavier counterparts could counter-charge. This was the first decisive moment at Tusculum, where the decision between victorious rout and a protracted struggle faced the Italian general. Possibly sensing more power behind the sniping attacks, Donatus refrained from throwing in his cavalry, which might have won the battle right then and there. Instead, he decided to deploy his army in full, bringing up his infantry to face the hidden foe in the forests. Driven off yet still potent, the sagitarii had done their job, giving Remus Macrinus the chance to bring up his own army.


They paced behind the lines, the four of them, Remus, Claudius, Gaius, and Gnaeus. His staff had fierce anticipation in their eyes, at the thought of finally going into a true pitched battle, with equal armies, on open ground. No more hiding or slinking away from superior foes. No more tricks or gambits to lure enemy armies into disadvantage. No more negotiation or political maneuvers. It all came down to swords meeting on flat terrain. God help us on this day, Remus whispered as he ran the final plan through his mind. Already, he could see the enemy force approaching, and he signaled to his officers to mount up. All but, Gnaeus who growled and smirked at the other three on their horses. ”The rankers would laugh at me on a horse, Comes. I’d lose all respect. Besides, the general here,” he pointed good-naturedly at Claudius, ”will need someone with sense on the ground.”


Remus nodded, not trusting to his sentiments to say anything. He turned to Gaius. ”Remember, hold back the horse. Let Donatus commit. Everything depends on that.” And with that, the trio saluted him and rode to their positions.

The opposing army having developed a healthy respect for his horse archers, Remus again used them to open the true battle. It was a tricky move, as he possessed less than one hundred of these versatile troops. Yet here was the maneuver that they were designed for – the ”harry and pin” tactic that Remus would use to such fruition in coming years. Again charging forward from the protective massed army, they swept forward on either flank and moved to fire harassing volleys at Donatus’ cavalry which was gathered in the Italian rear and flanks. Both vanguards of infantry had already begun the slow march to melee, and one marvels at the discipline of troops holding to this inexorable approach even as cavalry sweeps around them on either side.

This time, however, Donatus did not hold back. Frustrated at the sharp yet light stings of the sagitarii, the Italian commander committed his cavalry on his right flank. On the left, he held back, not wishing perhaps to expose the flank in the more open ground. First the Gallic light horse, than the Gothic spearmen, and soon more and more contingents of his cavalry swept forward and easily frightened off the sagitarii, crashing boldly into Remus’ left. Delighted at the quick maneuver in his favor, Donatus prepared to commit more and more of his mounted reserves to what he viewed as the decisive front of the battle. Slowly but surely, virtually all of the Italian horse would be committed to the growing clash on that flank.

The Italian horse develops a heavy attack on Remus’ left​

On Remus/ right, things developed more slowly. The Italian horse ignored the sagitarii, who quickly expended their depleted supply of arrows, and sat threateningly off to the right, a bit too light to move to melee. Gradually, Donatus and Remus would move most of their horse to the opposite flank, pushing for a decision there in the massed struggle of cavalry. Commanding the right flank of Remus’ army, Claudius, who had not yet won his more familiar cognomen, led the core of the infantry, comitatensii primarily, in a frontal attack on the enemy line. It was the kind of steady, ponderous engagement that Claudius excelled at and it demonstrated how effectively Remus used his officers.

Claudius’ frontal attack on the right​

At this point, however, the Comes’ initial decision to mass his cavalry in the center rear now worked against him as his left flank was threatened by Donatus’ sudden counter attack. Not just his cavalry, but his infantry was plunged into grave danger as the Germanic horse, fierce warriors armed with falx and heavy throwing spears, the angon and bebra. Sweeping in after an initial volley, they tore enemy horsemen apart.

Italian cavalry began to press back their foes​

Remus committed his horse piecemeal, hoping to hold some back for a frontal charge perhaps. The lack of effective mounts was another factor at this point, weakening the cohesion of his deployments.

Remus contemplates the worsening situation on his left​

By early afternoon, with a hazy sun beating down on tiring troops, the Italian horse was winning the cavalry action on the left. If Remus’ left broke, then his entire force was open to envelopment. It was at this point that he took the potent gamble of personally plunging into battle, losing all communication with the rest of the army, and seeking to commit the strength of his own equites to the struggle.


Around him the clash of metal competed with guttural screams and growls to deafen him to anything else but the man in front of him, Struggling to keep the emotions of hand-to-hand combat in check, Remus’ spatha sword swept back and forth, trying to bring down the enemy horseman in front – a brutish Goth – while checking his sides and rear whenever he could spare the glance. A loud blow landed on his short shield, and he felt his right arm ache in protest, but fortunately the Goth fell at that moment to a freak arrow that swept out of nowhere, possibly friendly or otherwise. Remus skirted the knot of melee, looking to find another opponent. Ahead, he saw what he thought was an enemy commander, a large burly man decked out in Gallic armor, his blonde hair protruding from his helmet. Kicking his horse, Remus raised his sword to strike as the man turned and presented his falx to block. And suddenly they stopped, amazingly, both men halting on the field. For a few confused moments, they let the battle carry on around them.


Remus couldn’t believe it. ”M-Modestus?”

Suddenly the man’s eyes burned and he raised his hand-axe, the moment gone. ”Curse you, Remus!” A loud blow knocked Remus’ sword from his grasp and almost swept him off his horse. Just at that moment, before the Gallic trooper could finish him off, the remainder of his unit caught up to him, and pushed the foe back. Gradually, he could feel the enemy give way, the critical point having passed.

But he would not forget what he had seen. That was Modestus!


With the left flank stabilized for the moment, the deciding point of the battle now moved to the right, where Claudius’ comitatensii slammed into the Italian ranks.

Claudius surveys the actions on the right​

It was here that the Roman discipline, which was well on its way to turning farmers into veterans, helped the formation to hold. Despite being outnumbered, and despite the enemy Illyrian force, whose mad screams were intimidating, Claudius bludgeoned his troops forward like a ram, literally pushing the entire enemy left backwards, his infantry equally unnerving with their own spontaneous chants of ”Dux Calor!”, invoking their famous commander.

The army of Donatus begins to give way​

(cont.)​

By late afternoon, having failed to prevail on the flanks and with his infantry being driven back, Donatus began to withdraw, hoping to salvage his army before the scatter became a rout. Fortunately for him, the hot summer fight had exhausted both sides. Being out of touch with his entire army, bogged down in his own personal combat, Remus found himself unable to muster a quick pursuit. All he could do was bring his scattered formations together, and move to secure Tusculum the next day. Camping at Donatus’ old site for the next two days, the Comes brought up his baggage train and contemplated his next move – taking Rome itself.


Another mounted courier galloped up, the third in an equal number of minutes. Remus impatiently snatched the message, not letting Gaius pre-read as he had a tendency to do. Around him, the exhausted columns slowly tramped northward, the flush of victory and the approaching city keeping their spirits up just enough to push past the limits of their endurance. In a constricting circle behind him, as anxious as he, his staff stood curiously. Gnaeus, nursing a wound to his left shoulder and Claudius with his bloodied hair, stood around waiting. Remus shook his head, not sure whether to be admiring or wary. ”It seems that the Imperator has already set out for Rome, apparently, if Varic is to be believed, some two days before we fought at Tusculum. Their procession will be here in a week.” His officers’ expressions matched his own. He looked ahead down the road, thoughts of Modestus and now Romulus intruding on his unfolding campaign.

Within days, his tired army, having suffered moderate casualties at Tusculum, limped its way to within sight of the old city. By the end of August, the Porta Latina on the Aurelian Walls lay right in front of the lead columns. And there was yet another welcome sight for Remus Macrinus to take in. A delegation from one of the governing leaders of the city, Papa Felix Tertius, the new Bishop of Rome, Felix III, emerged from the gates soon after with relieving news. Donatus had withdrawn to the north and the city was open.