Chapter 31: A New Model Army?
* Apologies to Oliver Cromwell.
13 September 1619, Castle St. Maso, Rome
It was his last day as Chancellor. Consul Drusus Germanicus had served the Empire for years, and it was time to retire. As much as he loved his late Grandfather, he had no intention of staying in the government until he was a senile old man. In his opinion, he'd done all he could. He didn't envy his replacement, Innocenzo Buti, formerly Minister of Internal Affairs. From what he'd heard from some of his employees, Alexander was a very different sort of Emperor.
Alexander I grew up without parents. His father died when he was still a toddler. His mother died shortly afterwards in a shipwreck. As a future Emperor he didn't want for anything materially. He was taught by the very best minds in Europe money could buy. His language tutor was the accomplished scholar Brother Simon. The precocious young Emperor very early on realized that the supposed theologian was no priest of any kind. At the age of 13, Alexander finally coaxed the truth out of Drusus Germanicus. Brother Simon was actually Pietro Leopoldo Farnese, his elder brother.
From that moment, Alexander and Pietro grew a lot closer. Alexander didn't share his brother's distaste for the military, but violently hated paperwork and bureaucracy. On matters of diplomacy, however, they were much synchronized. Alexander showed signs of not only being an excellent Emperor, but a good man. One of his first decrees not only formally restored Pietro's name to him, but acknowledged his heritage. Pietro's children, if he had any, were recognized as potential Heirs to the Throne.
It turned out to be fortuitous. With the peace that had reigned during the regency, young Alexander and Marshal Karel van Dijk traveled to London to inquire about the possibilities of an alliance. Politely but firmly rejected by the King of Great Britain, they prepared to return home. They were given a royal carriage to take them to Portsmouth. The carriage never made it.
Their progress was interrupted by a large army. Their leader, clad in traditional Celtic garb, gave his name only as O'Connor. Many of his followers were screaming in Gaelic, with those who did shout in English calling out "Death to tyranny!" Alexander and Karel looked at one another; clearly, the Irish army had confused them for English nobles. The ensuing battle was a defeat for the Italian guards, who fought as bravely as they could. Alexander was gravely injured; a musketball took him in his spine, paralyzing him from the waist down. An enterprising soldier tried to remove his ear; when Alexander jerked away, his face was badly scarred and his eye gouged.
They were taken back to the rebel camp. When O'Connor discovered their true identities, there was much debate in the camp. Some of them wanted to execute the Italian and the Dutchman on the spot. Others wanted to ransom them. One of them actually recognized the Marshal and approached the prisoners when nobody else was looking.
"You're Jan's older brother, aren't you?"
The Marshal, beaten and bloodied, lifted one eye towards the young Irishmen addressing him. He'd spoken in Latin. "That's right. How do you know my brother?"
The huge lad looked about furtively. "I served in his mercenary company for a few months. He's a good man and talked a lot about you."
Karel nodded. "What's your name, lad?"
"Alexander. Alexander O'Connor."
The young Emperor and Karel looked at one another. "Are you related to our captor?"
The Irishman nodded. "Yeah, but he doesn't know it. I'm his son, but I'm in disguise. Let's just say he and I don't see eye to eye on a number of things. I'm here to try to free some of my friends."
"Very well, young O'Connor. Can you do something for us?"
"Your young friend there is the future Emperor of Italy, isn't he?"
The Marshal nodded.
"Can I leave with you? There's nothing left for me here. I can't think of a better way to punish both my father and the English to see the Roman Empire return."
Karel van Dijk considered for a moment and consulted with the Emperor in ancient Greek so that the young Irishman wouldn't understand. "Yes, I think that's agreeable."
Alexander O'Connor smiled. "Then I can get you out of here. Give me a few minutes to gather my mates and I'll be on my way out."
True to his word, O'Connor and his band sneaked the future Emperor and Marshal out that night. They were already on the ship in Portsmouth before the elder O'Connor knew what had happened.
As Drusus recalled the episode, related to him by the Marshal, he then regarded how Alexander had changed. His injuries ensured he would never marry nor would he ever have children. He grew withdrawn and cold. He was polite in public and in private, but he took to wearing an all-concealing cloak. He refused to be seen by anybody. When he had to speak with others, he did it from a darkened corner. He never left his bedchamber.
Drusus sighed. For this reason, Alexander was the first Emperor not to give a coronation day speech. He wouldn't even allow a public coronation. Drusus's last duty would to be publish his first set of decrees, including naming Pietro as the Prince of Constantinople until such time as he could have children. Germanicus chuckled dryly. For the first time and probably last time, the Prince was older than the Emperor. The new Emperor also officially named Innocenzo Buti as the new Chancellor. The last official decree that Drusus signed was the Inheritance of Nobility Decree, which read:
All hereditary nobles, which are those reaching rank 5 (Praetor or Lt. Commander), may pass on their patent of nobility to their designated heir, preferably the eldest son if one is available. However, they will enter the cursus honorum at rank 8 (Governor or Lieutenant). Those heirs who demonstrate a University education will enter at rank 7 instead. Only the Emperor himself can issue a dispensation.
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25 February 1620, Genoa
In a very solemn ceremony, the Doge of Genoa handed the official seal to Chancellor Innocenzo Buti. Many commentators were worried that Alexander would use his
imperium to declare war on his first day as Emperor, perhaps a Crusade against Morocco. Instead, it began with the peaceful annexation of Genoa.
Chancellor Buti immediately ordered the conversion of all available Imperial revenues to make sure that there were no stability problems. His assistants estimated it would take about a year to make sure Genoa would remain peaceful and to make sure there wouldn't be unpleasant consequences in the rest of the Empire.
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15 July 1620, the Marshal's office, Rome
Karel van Dijk looked over the report from Captain O'Connor. The Marshal had tasked the young Irishman with coming up with a way to increase the speed of the legions. His solution was an interesting one. Essentially, O'Connor wanted to replace the artillery in legions with cavalry, for 6 infantry regiments and 4 cavalry regiments. The first of these new Legions would be L. XVI 'Draco', which was even now forming. The Captain excitedly reported that the increased speed would be especially useful where the Empire had to deal with great distances or needed quick reinforcements.
Karel grinned at the lad's eagerness. When Alexander O'Connor first came to the Empire, he was hired as a tutor at the Germanicus Academy and given the rank of Captain. O'Connor had been part of the Irish nobility, and so the Emperor wanted to make sure that was respected. After a few glasses of wine, Alex finally explained what had happened to him in Ireland.
Alexander O'Connor was the second son of Seamus O'Connor, a minor Baron in County Cork. Seamus was also the underground leader of the Irish resistance to British rule. At the age of 16, he was given a commission as a
Leftenant of Cavalry in the Irish Guard, the British army unit in Ireland. Even as a young officer, Alex despaired to see the mighty fortifications and formations that the British had produced. He tried to convince his father that armed rebellion just wasn't a practical way to contest British rule. Alex advocated making ties with powers overseas. Seamus disagreed, and called his son a coward for not wanting to join the rebellion. He even suggested his son didn't want to rebel because he secretly liked the British.
Their conflict came to a head at a strategy meeting. Seamus favored a direct strike on London itself. Alex tried his best to convince the other leaders that such an attack was suicide. His recommendation was to take a squadron over to the Continent and train them in the most modern techniques and look for foreign support. Seamus became angry, saying that only the Irish could save the Irish. As the argument became more heated, they nearly came to blows. The next day, an anonymous tip identified Alex O'Connor as one of the leaders of the revolution. He was stripped of his commission and narrowly escaped arrest.
Alex discovered that it had been his father who'd leaked the information to the British garrison commander. Angry at his father for betraying him and the British for oppressing his people, he knew that he had to stay abroad to avoid execution. He joined with Jan van Dijk's mercenary company, based in Holland. He was very quickly promoted and became the second-in-command. By 20 he was a seasoned veteran of dozens of battles and hundreds of fights. He took his mercenary pay and tried to buy a commission in a foreign army, but he was effectively blacklisted by everybody north of the Alps. The British reach was long. So he did the next best thing: infiltrated his father's camp with some effectively created disguises. He was going to free his most trusted men from captivity and escape to the New World, where he'd probably have better luck getting support against the British. That all changed when he met Alexander Farnese, future Emperor of Italy.
Since his stint as an instructor at the Cavalry School of the Germanicus Academy, Alex had been begging for a field assignment. That was when the Marshal assigned him the problem of finding a way to make the legions quicker. His concept for the Legio Celeris (quick legion) was a truly brilliant one. In fact, although Alex didn't know it, Karel had just submitted a recommendation that Alex be made Lieutenant Commander of the new Legion he'd organized. He knew the Emperor would agree, since Alexander I liked the young Irishman too.
The fun stuff over, Karel's brow furrowed. He had a war to plan. The Emperor, tired of waiting ten years to integrate the regions that properly belonged to Italy, had declared war on Ferrara.
Savoy and Castille would probably intervene. What was worse, the Emperor refused to call any allies, making his job that much tougher. The Marshal knew that Ferrara would be a piece of cake, but it would be far tougher convincing Savoy and Castille to let Italy keep Ferrara.
Alex's idea would be tested much sooner than anybody had thought.
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28 September 1620, Cuneo, Savoy
Alexander O'Connor wasn't the only beneficiary of his idea for more cavalry in the legions. Colonel Galeazzo Maria Galilei finally got the promotion to General he'd been waiting for. Then again, his path to the army was as unusual was his last name. His uncle was the famous Professor Galileo Galilei of the astronomy faculty of the University of Rome. His brilliant proof of heliocentrism had won him a lot of respect in the Empire of Italy, even though the Pope didn't like him. The General smiled. The Empire itself was not popular with the Pope, so maybe that made him even more popular.
His father idolized his older brother, and so he'd planned a career in science for his young son, Galeazzo. It wasn't to be, however. Galeazzo was enamored with the army almost from the day he was born. His uncle personally intervened with Chancellor Germanicus to get him a commission, and so he was a Lieutenant of Cavalry. His own career seemed to top out at Colonel-in-Chief of Cavalry. Cavalry just wasn't that prestigious in the Empire of Italy. Until Alexander O'Connor.
The new General was placed in charge of the armies that would invade Savoy. His skill at shock tactics ensured two major victories.
He was also promised the Legio XVI 'Draco' once the rest of the officers were chosen, but that was taking far longer than many thought. Also under his command was the conquest of Ferrara, which was similarly a great victory.
General Galilei went from stalled to career to on the short list to become Marshal some day. He smiled. He opened his uncle was proud of him.
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6 December 1620, Judea
Not all such Generals had such auspicious beginnings to their careers. The new General of the Eastern Theater, Ascanio Maria Buonarotti, was the Commander of the Legio III 'Butterius', assigned to defend Judea. While all the victories and glory had gone west, the problems came east. In a bitter argument with the Mayor of Jerusalem over the appropriateness of military fortifications in his city, the Castillian King Enrique V and 25,000 soldiers invaded, taking the garrison and the Third Legion by surprise.
The bloody victory might have earned Buonarotti a promotion, but he would have traded his new rank for one of those new "quick legions" being raised in Italy. Two legions were on the way to reinforce his position -- the Fifth and Tenth -- but he worried they wouldn't get there before the Castillians attacked again. That the Mayor of Jerusalem was severely reprimanded was small consolation for losing two-thirds of his legion.
As General in the East, he also somehow had to coordinate a new front: Ethiopia had gotten frisky again.
Muscovy dishonored the alliance, but at least all of the vassals honored. General Buonarotti groaned. He only had one legion to deal with this headache. He sent encouragement to the Commander of the legion; he wished him good luck.
What would Italy ever want to do with Ethiopia, anyway? Why did they keep attacking? Only an idiot would want all that worthless desert.
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29 January 1621, Judea
He'd nearly lost the entire Third Legion. That was the thought that kept going through his mind. General Buonarotti had been ordered to take command of the reinforcements instead of his old legion. While his Lieutenant Commander was competent, and probably would have been a great Commander, Castille picked the perfect time to attack Judea again. In the midst of the leadership transition, the Third Legion was forced to retreat, bringing fresh screams from the Mayor of Jerusalem, who hadn't been replaced.
Although it wasn't his fault, the General took the loss hard. He spurred his troops on to drive out the Castillian invaders, and the battle was appropriately climactic.
When he reentered Jerusalem, he found the Mayor cowering in a corner. The first words out of his mouth were "You certainly took your time, General!"
Buonarotti scowled. Ibrahim Iskander just wasn't the equal of his father. At least Daoud had moral courage. Ibrahim had been trying to ingratiate himself with the Castillian invaders. With delight, Ascanio realized that he outranked the Mayor. He had him arrested for treason and sent him back to Rome. He appointed himself interim Mayor until a replacement could be found.
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1 October 1622, Castle St. Maso, Rome
Caterina, Prince Pietro's wife, was exhausted. Pietro, on the other hand, was more excited than he'd ever been before. The Empire was safe! His son, whom he named Francesco after his grandfather, would be Emperor some day. Pietro vowed not to make the same mistakes his own father did and made sure that Francesco would be prepared to ascend the throne some day.
He hoped that might mean he'd finally have an easier time of it. He'd been Prince of Constantinople and Foreign Minister at the same time for too long. He'd successfully negotiated white peaces with Castille and Savoy, ending that war. He deserved a break, he thought. His old friend Julius still ran Constantinople as Magistrate, and Pietro couldn't think of a better choice, but Julius wasn't going to be around forever. His Chief Aedile, a Greek named Daedalus Melas, was capable, but a jump in rank that far was extremely rare. Daedalus was quite young, but Pietro still worried. He wondered if he could convince the Emperor to promote him to Praetor for Constantinople.
As soon as he saw his infant son's smile, all thoughts of Constantinople vanished. He was a father, he was home, and he had a good and important job. What more could any man want?
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19 June 1623, Marshal's office, Rome
Marshal van Dijk looked carefully at the list of legions available for combat. This war against Morocco was one he wholeheartedly agreed with. North Africa was and always would be Italian, or at least it ought to be. He had three legions in position; two in Constantine and one farther south. The conquest of Bone was a key objective in this war. An imperial archivist under Leo III proved that he could establish Italy's claim to Bone as a core province if conquered, and that goal had been one that had taken a while to achieve.
He ordered General Buonarotti to the frontier with Oman, who would likely intervene. General Galilei would take the Legio XVI 'Draco' and invade from the sea. His orders were to get to Marrakesh as quickly as possible. He began drafting orders for the fleet when he heard a knock at the door. "Enter, please."
In stepped the incorrigible Alexander O'Connor. After saluting, a huge smile broke out on his face. "I hear I'm to see action now, Marshal?"
The Marshal couldn't help but chuckle. "That's right, Lieutenant Commander. You'll be on the next ship out of Rome. Your idea is getting put to the test. What do you think of General Galilei?"
"He's a marvel, sir. I've probably learned more from him in the past two months than I had in Great Britain in two years. Why did it take him so long to be promoted, Marshal?"
Karel weighed his words carefully before responding. "He's a little too... aggressive for some of my younger commanders. Cavalry was always the third branch in importance for our army until your 'quick legion' was developed."
Alex nodded. "You don't have very good country for cavalry, Marshal. Nobody's perfect."
At that, the Marshal laughed again. He noticed that Alex wasn't leaving, but shuffling uncertainly. "Is there something else?"
"It's the Commander. I don't think he's fully on board with the concept, sir. He's been actively dragging his feet and some of the Captains agree with him. If the General is in command, he'll behave, but he'd have to be directly attached to the Legion."
The Marshal frowned. "Who's the Commander of your legion again?"
"Stefano del Moro."
"del Moro... is he related to the former Marshal?"
"I think so, Marshal."
Marshal van Dijk sat and thought for a few moments. "Let's see how he does in combat, Lieutenant Commander. Some people will argue in the wardroom but still be brilliant on the battlefield. I will keep a close eye on him and ask General Galilei to do the same. Does that make sense, Alex?"
"Of course, Marshal. I had to tell you; it's been weighing on my conscience."
The Marshall smiled gently and patted him on the shoulder. "Listening to your conscience is never something to be ashamed of, my friend. Dismissed!"
Alex saluted, turned, and left.
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28 December 1623, Tlemcen, North Africa
The soldier still couldn't believe that Christmas had come and gone. It was always so damned hot in these deserts during the day. He joined to be a cavalryman, but he had an unfortunate handicap: he was good with figures. That got him stuck in the artillery so quickly his head was still reeling. A 22 year old from Neapolis, he was a Sergeant for his battery. He found he liked life in the army. His father was a farmer and always strutted when somebody asked about his boy. His brother joined up too, but he was in the Legio VII 'Asia.' They'd been in a battle in Aures, one which they'd won. He'd been worried, since his brother was an infantryman. Even with Morocco being so backward, there was still no guarantee the victories would be bloodless.
His own legion fared better, although it was still no easy task defeating these Moroccans.
His own battery had performed very well, dispersing a cavalry charge with a well-timed barrage. He'd even heard from Captain Zappa that he might get a promotion. He was nearly bursting with pride at the news. After all, Lieutenants got a patent of nobility. Not bad for the son of a farmer!
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18 March 1624, Tobouk, Oman
General Buonarotti smiled slightly to himself. Unlike the last war, he got the easy time of it this time. The Moroccans, hardened by years of soldiering, were much tougher opponents by all reports. The Omani, on the other hand, were pushovers. He'd won two great victories and was sieging Tobouk.
These victories weren't just glorious for the Empire, but pushed him a little farther up the list to replace Marshal van Dijk. The Dutchman had been Marshal for a long time and many were speculating that he would retire soon. With only two Generals, that meant it was a coin flip to become one of the most powerful men in the Empire, unless one of the Colonels caught the Empire's eye.
He laughed to himself at his own joke. As if any soldier would ever see the Emperor's eye!
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22 April 1624, Figuig, North Africa
Alex O'Connor was miserable. His appetite for combat had been long since whetted, and worst of all, he burned in the hot African sun. His idea was officially proven, which was nice for his career, but he might not survive the war at this rate. Between sieges and battles, his legion was at about 50% strength.
Even worse, Commander del Moro was constantly riding him. It seemed that the Commander had a close friend on the Marshal's staff, who'd shared Alex's conversation with the Marshal. So while the General was around, del Moro was nothing but praiseworthy for his second-in-command. When he wasn't, del Moro made sure the cavalry got every disadvantage he could. That Alex's concept had proven successful must have grated even more heavily on del Moro's nerves.
At least the General liked him. As a way to better understand the General, Alex had read some of his uncle's work, and while he couldn't understand the math, he was impressed with the writing. He quietly resolved to himself that he would see if he could find a place at one of the Universities to improve his knowledge after the war. For now, though, the war was far from over. Alex needed to keep training his men.
If he was lucky, maybe he would be able to rest and recover his strength.
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27 July 1624, Marrakesh, Morocco
Victories kept piling up for Empire of Italy, but they were no closer to breaking Morocco. General Buonarotti insisted that Oman was ready to surrender, but he'd had no luck finding someone to negotiate with. General Galilei had no such illusions about Morocco. Until he destroyed the Moroccan General's army, there would be no peace. A victory at Fez had put 'al-Walid on the run. He was able to get reinforcements from the Seventh Legion; the Sixteenth would engage the enemy, and the Seventh would bring support up.
The system would have been perfect, if not for the idiot in charge of the Sixteenth. del Moro was easily the most shameless sycophant Galilei had seen in his years of service. The only reason del Moro hadn't been fired were his political connections. He'd forwarded his concerns to the Marshal, but he knew that major changes were unlikely in a time of war.
Young O'Connor was a brilliant tactician, on the other hand. His skill with cavalry charges had proven decisive at both battles of Marrakesh.
As Galeazzo began to prepare to dig in, he hoped victory would happen soon; a lot of good men had died for these miles of desert.
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24 November 1624, Tlemcen
Brutus Porcius Cato, Commander of the Legio IX 'Italia', was not a happy man. He felt his family had been disrespected for years, despite being one of the the two oldest families in the Empire. Yes, his father, Cornelius, was Chief Magistrate of Italy, one of the most powerful men in the entire Empire. But it still wounded his pride that his father wasn't even a candidate to become Chancellor after Drusus Germanicus retired. It was even worse when he himself had been passed over as General of the Western Theater for Galilei.
When he was alone, he blamed the Farnese family. Under the Dattis, the Catos were respected and honored by every citizen. Oh, his fellow nobles paid lip service to his family's superiority now, but it was mocking respect at best. But what could he do? Only one thing: win. Only victory would restore what his family had lost. And he'd done what that usurper Galilei couldn't -- he'd destroyed the army of Morocco and captured their king. Peace was surely close now.
Maybe he'd get the respect he deserved with this. Perhaps he'd even skip to the baton of a Marshal?
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22 May 1626, Rome
Emperor Alexander I was pleased with the results of the war against Morocco.
As the Italian border pushed west, the dream of the Roman Empire remained alive. On Christmas Eve, he ordered the construction of a University in Macedonia to honor his father. To further strengthen the Empire's administration, on the advice of Chancellor Buti, he expanded the bureaucracy. He thanked God for the Chancellor, who let him focus on important matters instead of wasting his time on trivialities.
He didn't forget the Generals of his victorious war. General Buonarotti was named Proconsul of Anatolia. General Galilei was named General-in-Chief of the Empire. Both could be recalled to active duty in the event of a war, which suited him well. He'd offered to knight Marshal van Dijk, but he declined the honor, saying he hadn't earned it yet.
Another quickly advancing military mind was Alex O'Connor. The Emperor allowed himself a small smile. He'd turned out very well, had the young Irishman. He'd been promoted twice during the war and was now Colonel-in-Chief of Cavalry. His newest idea was Gallop Cavalry.
As he understood it, they would rely more heavily on momentum during a charge than the older cavalry. The early results were very promising and required less marksmanship training for cavalrymen. What he wasn't so happy about was that the rest of Europe was diving on Morocco like vultures; Savoy, France, and Portugal had all declared war. His bad mood dissipated rapidly, however.
He had something far bigger in mind for the Empire of Italy, and again he had Alex O'Connor to thank.
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I'll try to update sometime next week; there's a big war on the way that will make these wars pathetic and small!