May – August 490
He could feel the moment approaching. It was within his grasp. A wave of his hand, unleash the horsing, and it would be done. They would break, another tribe subdued by might and will. So why did he hesitate? Remus could sense the faint tug at the back of his mind, the sudden rise of caution. What was it? He scanned the battlefield, observing the familiar chaos, the screams of warriors charging fruitlessly against the massed ranks of the
miliaria. There had been such confidence when the battle began, everything evolving as he had anticipated. So what then….then he spotted it. Gundobad! Encamped on the rise behind his vast army, not even twitching. Even from the distance, Remus could see how the Burgundian King sat still on his horse…serene…clearly not a ruler whose army was in danger of losing. Something was amiss.
He turned to one of his
scrinarii, faint concern mounting.
”One turma
each flank, charge. Hold back the second. Wheel the Bretons right, towards the marsh.” To his credit, the aide blinked only once and turned his horse away, ready to send fast runners to either flank. His commanders knew him, trusted him even, but even the most inspiring leader can spread dismay with an abrupt change in plans. Kicking his horse, he began to trot along the rear of his army, the reserve ranks standing solid, none daring to break discipline to observe his passage. The screams, the sounds of metal on metal, the whoosh of arrows, all of it rolled over him like a soothing blanket, the familiar feeling of control amidst insanity. He paused to watch a
carroballista resume its barrage, its vantage perfect from a tiny knoll. Bolts shattered the Burgundian lines, pausing their flank attack, just in time for the armored horse to sweep through. Beautiful, he mouthed, as he watched the slaughter. The carnage, repeated on the far side, was swift and deadly. The
cataphractii bludgeoned their way into the open ground behind the enemy warriors, ready to complete the encirclement…it was just like Soissons, he exulted!
Then the horns blared. His suspicions bore fruit then. Everything in front was open and visible, which meant that surprise could only come from…roars echoed from his right flank, and to his shock, he observed columns of Burgundian infantry and horsemen trotting out of the marsh. Hardly impassable, he growled to himself. Never again would he do without native scouts. His mind raced, calculating the numbers. Two…no three thousand certainly…no doubt in place since the morning. No wonder the King sat calmly. With a rueful smile, he nodded across the field, wondering if the King could even see his gesture. Remus could almost picture his return nod, one commander to another. Effective and deadly, this last maneuver, he mused. But not mortal. With a cry of defiance, he wheeled his horse and galloped back to his remaining cavalry. Thank God for his instincts…even as he heard the first melee behind him, the Breton
clientiarii battered by the onrushing enemy, their short blades and light armor ill-fit against Burgundian hand-axes. He pulled up near the
turma and its
Decurio praepositus, the officer suppressing his confusion.
”Did I put your men on parade?! Get them moving, or it’ll be my iron piercing your hide!” With grim resolve, the horsemen responded with precision, the rustling of leather and mail. Within minutes, they were in motion, and the crisis he felt began to dim. For a fleeting moment, he longed to join them. The youth he had been struggled to the fore, the exuberant
Decurio longing to lead the charge. He began to trot after the distant horsemen…
”General,” he thought he heard…but his own men, his…responsibilities, brought him up short. With a last wistful sigh, he turned back to his army. His mind gave up the tactical for the strategic…he needed to commit more infantry.
Clientiarii were useful to slow the enemy, but only the Roman infantryman could provide the stopping power. Even as he barked more orders, he glanced across the field. There, beyond the retreating Burgundians, Gundobad still sat. Even…still confident? Impossible. Unless.
More horns, this time from the left. His heart raced, and he quickly realized he was surely dealing with Gundobad’s entire army, every warrior massed from within his kingdom. The Visigoths be damned! Gundobad and Euric must’ve settled, the Visigoth monarch seeking revenge by proxy. Well, Remus would exact his own recourse in time…for the moment, however, he had a battle to rescue. His own triumph in the center would be meaningless if the heart of his own army was cut out from under him. He pushed his horse to the limit, each gallop not fast enough. Move! At last he reached the flank, even as the shadow of yet another Burgundian force appeared out of the distant forest. So the King had maneuvered even more men out of the town, surely. He was throwing all of his dice in one throw. Remus quickly observed the ground, scanning the terrain. Too broken for horse? He had only the one
turma to throw in, and no more
clientiarii. His armies would need more such men, he reasoned. He knew Calvus was gathering captured Franks into such units, emulating Remus’ own example with the Breton prisoners. They would prove invaluable in situations such as these. When he needed time!
The Breton clientarii were weak and ineffective but bought valuable time to save Remus’ right flank
He turned back to where his…they were gone! He wanted to curse himself, but no general could lose composure in the heat of the moment. That was worse than panic…that was defeat. But his infantry were still gone. His last reserves were committed to the right. So what did he have? The battle was still in full fore, and he had clearly taken the field. The
cataphractii had met each other, completing the trap of Gundobad’s main body. Would it matter though? One
turma of heavy cavalry would be hard pressed against two thousand enemy infantry. For a split second, he felt the heavy weight of an unfamiliar feeling. Hopelessness? In dreams, he saw the door shutting, the thumbs down. History’s verdict, then. And then, like a small bubble rising in a still pond, he had a fleeting thought of Selenus…why? He hadn’t seen the lad in…years? How did he fare? Did he writhe still under Romulus’ thumb? Had he been granted his wish, to never again see battle? But why was he thinking of Selenus, even as his left caved in…what did Selenus and a brittle flank have to do…it was a lightning bolt in his mind! Of course!
The lad never kept silent about anything ancient. How many times had he meandered on and on about old battles, his men laughing at the poor boy playing at war. What did he possibly know about war? Which was the point, he finally discovered. What the boy knew…the legions, a threatened flank….Cynoscephalae! The word appeared unbidden and instantly, everything became clear. Flaminius could reverse maniples to crush the Macedonian right, why could he not do the same against undisciplined barbarians?!
”Scrinarius!” Another aide trotted forward, panting after the hard ride to keep pace with his general.
”To Photius. Reverse immediately..to me!” That should bring his rear
miliaria into battle…but soon enough? He scanned the field for anything, any weapon he could use. He turned to another of his officers.
”The sagitarii
?” Shaking his head, the man leaned closer.
”Spent, general. Out of arrows, mounts exhausted.” Remus mused for a moment, craning his neck to observe the Burgundian approach. No other recourse.
”They don’t know that, however. Bring every able horsemen, hard and fast. Deploy just out of range...” Yes, he thought. That might buy precious moments.
Within an hour, he was proven right. The sight of the
sagitarii boring in with confidence, toothless though they were, intimidated the Burgundian commander into slowing his advance, spreading out in looser formation to protect against deadly missile fire. By the time they noticed the horse archers’ impotence, the advantage had passed. The shadow of Photius’ infantry spelled the end to the last Burgundian flank attack. Bravely enough, they formed and attacked, repeating on a smaller scale the collapse of the main body only hours before. The crash of the awaiting
cataphractii into their right finished them off.
The recall of Photius’ miliaria broke the last Burgundian counterattack at Bibracte
When Remus once more scanned the field, there was no Gundobad to salute and in turn be saluted. Sensing futility at last, the Burgundian King emulated his Frankish brethren, leading one last and vain royal charge.
* * *
The victory at Bibracte broke the back of Burgundian resistance. King Gundobad’s gamble had failed to achieve the surprise upon which he had counted, instead incurring the wrath of Macrinus’ growing military might. Despite the Burgundians’ superior numbers and clever maneuvering, Bibracte illustrated the flexibility of the Gallo-Roman system of warfare, combining elements of heavy and light troops, along with missile elements to pin and destroy a foe in quick succession. After the battle, having left over half of his army dead on the field, Gundobad slipped away to the south, having little stomach for holding the fort against a siege. It would evolve into a race as Macrinus, leaving a third of his army under Photius to take Bibracte and nearby settlements, took the bulk of his army south in pursuit, hoping to cut off the Burgundians and achieve the grand prize: Lugdunum.
Hard marches devastated the countryside as the desperate tribesmen struggled to escape annihilation and prolong the struggle, while equally desperate, the Roman army sought a final decision, to complete the conquest. Another factor was the worsening weather, the desire to avoid a long campaign in the summer heat. Gundobad’s lead elements reached Cabillonum in early June, having achieved his goal of reaching the Arar before his foe. With the river between him and the Roman columns, Lugdunum and safety would be within reach. The next day, however, brought a complete reversal of fortunes. While Remus Macrinus had brought his army in a steady if restrained pursuit with his infantry and train, his cavalry was dispatched further south, effecting a crossing at Matisco days ahead of the Burgundians, slipping across the ford there to race northward. Even as the Burgundians began to cross, their lead patrols were decimated with ominous ease. Leading his army forward in a last courageous if foolhardy attack, the Burgundians struggled in vain to breakout past Remus’ army, with very little success. Only Gundobad and his remaining horse slipped away towards Lugdunum.
The last stand at Cabillonum
Even in his moment of triumph, as he regrouped his army and awaited Photius’ arrival, news came out of the north. With his Roman foe distracted, Clovis and the Franks had pulled off an unlikely defeat of their Alemanni rivals at Divodurum, forcing Gebavult to recall his armies back towards the Rhenus. His rear secure and emboldened for revenge, the Franks again massed for war. Now it was Remus’ turn to secure his rear. Luring Gundobad out of hiding with promises to leave his kingdom and capital intact, Macrinus extracted what many dubbed a moderate if necessary peace. Retaining his kingdom, Gundobad ceded the lands around Bibracte south and east to the banks of the Arar. In addition, the Burgundians returned the lost Alpine provinces seized in their war with Odoacer years before, to Remus in person, and to Gallia, thus Rome, in title. With de facto independence, the Burgundian King guaranteed the safety of Roman communications through his lands, promised payments of five hundred talents in silver, and entered into clientage with Gallia Romanum, promising two thousand warriors for Remus’ coming campaign against the Franks. It was the first formalization of the new order in Gaul, and marked an early hint of the tribal return to subordinance in the West. Most importantly, it restored a line of supply and communication from Rome to its Gallic outposts.
The Burgundian campaign and Macrinus’ victory at Bibracte was the third defeat of a major barbarian tribe in three years. Having checked the Visigoths and destroyed the cream of both the Frankish and Burgundian army, the Roman presence in Gaul was once more solidified. Though neither tribe was truly subdued, the battle brought a return to the fourth century system of using tribes against tribes, with Rome remaining in the ascendant. Battle, however, and the grueling Gallic campaign, still loomed for Remus Macrinus, even as turmoil gripped the Western Empire in other provinces.
