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“Why did you recall me?” Hortar angrily demanded of his father. “My men were the closest to Campus Quadi. I should be allowed to lead them against it.”
Suomar watched his son quietly. He suspected that Hortar had been drinking and the ale had emboldened him. Suomar replied patiently: “Campus Quadi is vital to our war against the Romans. The priests of Thor have promised me their support if we remove their upstart chieftain. But they have promised allegiance to me personally and I must be the one to parley with them.”
Hortar looked away, starring blurry eyed into the distance, so Suomar continued: “I need you to defend our homeland. The Romans may strike at any time. Our warriors are few in number and untested. You must hold here until I return.”
Hortar nodded his head resignedly as Cimberius, the oldest of his younger brothers, entered the room.
“You are leaving, father?” Cimberius inquired brightly.
Suomar smiled sadly at his favourite son: “Yes, I ride for Campus Quadi within an hour.”
Cimberius looked excited: “Is it true their berserkers will join with us against Rome?”
“So I have been promised. But you are to stay here with your brothers and do as Hortar says.” Suomar watched as Cimberius seemed to crumple, becoming downcast.
“Yes, father.” Cimberius assented, without enthusiasm.
Suomar held Cimberius by the shoulders and spoke encouragingly: “Next year, you will become a man, Cimberius. And then I expect you to ride with your brother in defence of our lands. I will even send you and Hortar your own band of berserkers to join you in battle”
“Yes, father!” Cimberius said, with more vigour.
Suomar ruffled Cimberius’s hair affectionately and then turned away to embrace Hortar farewell, whispering: “Look after him.”
Hortar nodded quickly, but Suomar left the room feeling a strange sense of foreboding.
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Suomar sweeps into Campus Quadi, first over-running the archers of the rebellious local chief.
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Entering the centre of the town, the Alemanni spearmen engage the defenders frontally as Suomar and his mounted escort charge them in the rear.
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The rebellious local chief is hunted down by Alemanni war hounds.
Hortar raised his tankard of ale to that of Cimberius. The two brothers were celebrating the defeat of a Roman army under Quartinus Varius outside Augusta Vindelicorum.
“Five battles in five years and each one a victory!” Hortar’s leading drinking companion bellowed out and crashed his tankard into that of the two brothers. The warriors surrounding them roared in approval.
Hortar smiled and his mind drifted back to the beginning of their campaigning. They had gotten off to an uncertain start. The first battle, in 365, had opened with the Romans having taken up a strong defensive position on a hill. Hortar had sought to lure them out by marching with a detachment around their flank while Cimberius had led the bulk of their army onto the hill. The plan had worked almost too well - as Hortar’s detachment had rounded the Roman flank, the enemy army had turned and charged downhill to crush it.
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The downhill charge of the Roman infantry sweeps aside Hortar’s detachment of foot. But Cimberius’s men can be seen rushing to support the crumbling Alemanni line and Hortar himself is locked in battle with the foederati cavalry
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Only the fierce fighting of Hortar’s own mounted escort…
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…and the late arrival of Cimberius’s men save the Alemanni from defeat.
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Subsequent victories had come more easily, in large part thanks to Hortar’s skill at night fighting, which allowed him to isolate detachments of Romans away from supporting forces.
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Sometimes the Roman detachments found themselves hopeless outmatched and fled the battlefield, hotly pursued by the Alemanni.
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Other times, when the Romans did stand, they were punished by a barrage of Alemanni arrows and then an overwhelming charge.
An icy wind swept over Hortar and he broke out of his colourful reveries. An old woman had entered the hall and was shuffling towards the main table, muttering ominously.
“He is coming! He is coming!”
Hortar saw Cimberius look at the old woman in alarm. “Who is coming, you old crone?” snarled Horta’s leading drinking companion.
“Death is coming, you foolish slubberdeguillon, death!” the woman replied sharply as she turned to fix Hortar with her gaze.
Hortar nodded to her quietly and slowly stood up: “Men, break camp. We return to Vicus Alemanni.”
The mood in the hall seemed to almost visibly deflate, as the celebrating warriors began to mumble and mutter. Cimberius rose angrily: “What? We are at the gates of Augusta Vindelicorum - it lies at our feet!”
By now the old woman was beside Hortar, her wizen hand clasped on the warrior's arm. Hortar shook his head firmly. “Break camp. We leave now.”
An icy wind swept in from the west and roused Suomar from his melancholy musing. It had been five years since he had seen his sons and while news of their victories had delighted him, fear for their future still gnawed at him in moments of solitude. The King looked at the snow covered scene around him. His “army” stood on top of a hill outside of Carnuntum, although in truth his force resembled more of a large warband. A small Roman relief force was marching up the hill to Suomar’s front. At the same time - having evidently learnt of the relief force - the Carnuntum garrison had sallied out of the town and was approaching Suomar’s rear.
Suomar watched the Comitanses march implaccably forward.
“Fire at the cavalry!” Suomar instructed.
There was little point targeting the legionnaires with their large shields and chain armour. Suomar had ordered his capital to develop the facilities to train and equip chosen warriors with chain mail and axes to counter the Comitatenses. But it would take many years before Alemanni warriors on foot would be able to match them.
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In the meantime, the Alemanni would have to rely on the crazed bravery of the Lombard berserkers to counter the Roman comitatenses.
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While the berserkers fight the Roman infantry, Suomar’s own escort charge the accompanying Samartian auxiliary cavalry
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And together, the Alemanni elite troops rout the Roman relief force…
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…before crushing the Roman foederati garrisoning Carnuntum, now drawn out of the safety of the town walls.
At the battle's close, Suomar entered Carnuntum, enslaving the Roman population there. He gave thanks to the god Thor for his victory, and more specifically for his berserkers.
But his offerings could give the King little comfort, as he faced a growing sense of unease about the fate of his sons to the west.
Death was called Jovianus Carus.
The old crone had been right - scarcely had Hortar broke camp, than a large Roman army under the command of one Jovianus Carus had appeared. It had come to relieve Quartinus Varius in Augusta Vindelicorum. Hortar had left not a moment too soon, for his modest army would have been no match for the combined Roman forces.
Now Carus had left Varius in Augusta Vindelicorum and was marching east. The large Roman force was evidently seeking to rest back Carnuntum, which Suomar had recently occupied.
“We must march to father’s aid” Cimberius pleaded.
Hortar deliberated. A smaller Roman army had been sighted to the east of Vicus Allemanni, rading the hinterland. Hortar had three choices - drive off the marauders, besiege Augusta Vindelicorum or assist his father by purusing Carus.
Cimberius spoke at length to persuade his brother: “Father’s men are unlikely to be able to withstand a Roman siege for even a season. The Roman infantry is in its element fighting at close quarters on city walls. Until we have trained our chosen axemen, few Allemanni can match them in such fighting.”
Hortar nodded. No doubt the Lombard berserkers would have fought bravely, but they had neither the numbers nor the discipline to be relied upon.
“Yes, I will march to our father’s aid.” Hortar said finally.
“We will march” Cimberius corrected. Hortar looked sharply at the younger man. Hortar planned to take every warrior he could muster, living only a few peasants to garrison their stone-walled garrison. But he had thought of living Cimberius as the governor.
Cimberius seemed to read his mind: “Don’t even think of it!”
Hortar smiled reluctantly. His brother’s escort was a powerful addition to his small army. Having learnt of the size of the Carus’s Roman force, he would need every blade.
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The decisive battle of the decade: Jovianus Carus rounds on his pursuers, Hortar and Cimberius.
Hortar’s men were on the defensive. The Roman force was comprised primarily of cavalry - four companies of foederati, one of mercenary equites, one of horse archers and the Carus’ own troop of German bodyguards. In addition, it was supported by two cohorts of mercenary veteranii and one of unit of bucellari. Two of the foederati broke off from the main force and worked their way around the Allemanni right. Hortar directed his archers to target this flanking force, but still it came on.
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Cimberius’s escort drive off the Roman flanking force, as the main enemy line approaches.
The rest of the battle was a confused and bloody affair. The Roman veteranii charged the Allemanni line, supported by Carus’s own bodyguard. The Allemanni spearmen suffered greatly, but held, allowing flanking forces of berserkers and night raiders to come to their aid. Hortar’s own bodyguard broke several companies of Roman horse but was left isolated ahead of the main melee. Turning back, Hortar saw Cimberius’s escort crash into the battle and give battle to the fierce German horsemen escorting Carus.
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The climax of the battle, but at the moment of victory, Cimberius comes perilously close to the Roman general’s elite escort of German horse.
Hortar reigned his horse back and turned to return to the fray, but already the Romans were broken, streaming past him. He arrived at the centre of the battlefield, looking in vain for his brother.
“Cimberius! Cimberius!” he shouted and then noticed a small party gathered kneeling in a circle. Hortar quickly dismounted from his horse and ran with a rising sense of dread towards the gathering. He pushed through them to see the body of his brother, lying motionless and broken on the ground.
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Cimberius’s body is taken back to Vicus Alemanni for mourning
It would be a lie to say that Suomar had not wept. His grief had been terrible. Hortar’s seizure of Augusta Vindelicorum had not assuaged his bitterness; nor had news of another of Hortar’s victories - this time of a Roman force marauding near Vicus Alemanni. The grief and anger gnawed at Suomar. Then his spies reported the whereabouts of Jovianus Carus and the remnants of his army. In fury, Suomar abandoned Carnuntum, sparking rioting in the streets, and sent off in hot pursuit of the slayers of Cimberius.
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Suomar catches up with the killers of his son.
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The battle was a messy affair, with Suomar joining the Lombard berserkers in an orgy of killing…
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But in the confusion, the wily Roman general Carus can be seen making his escape.
The Romans were defeated but Suomar’s desire for vengeance against their general would have to wait. Reluctantly, Suomar decided to abandon the pursuit of Carus and instead reunite his warriors with the main army under Hortar at Vicus Alemanni.
As a new decade emerged, the Alemanni position was still precarious. They now held four provinces, rather than the one they started with. But the Romans were far from defeated. Vandal hordes roamed near the eastern borders of the Alemanni kingdom, although fortunately Suomar had brokered an alliance with them.
Suomar now faced a choice - whether to strike the Roman towns in the north-west along the Rhine, or whether to drive south to Mediolanium and Italy. Initially, he favoured the former and ordered Hortar to head north. But then, fearing this risked bringing the kingdom into conflict with the Franks and the Saxons, he had a change of heart and recalled his son. In the winter of 373, there was thus a lull in the war between Rome and the Alemanni. The snow covered Rhineland seemed to hold its breath as the direction of the war remained to be decided.
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As the snows melted and the year 373 began, Hortar remained encamped at Vicus Crossing.
“You are nearing maturity,” Hortar stated to his son Bertgarda, “are you ready to learn the lessons of manhood?”
Bertgarda nodded his head eagerly. He knew his grandfather had ordered Hortar to hold the bridge and safeguard the Alemanni homeland, but the entire army was restless and wanted to march.
“Very well,” replied Hortar, “watch and learn. Romans are not just lambs to be slaughtered, they have teeth and can strike back if you are not careful.”
At that moment a commotion came from the Vicus road. A large group of Alemanni nobles had arrived from the capital to survey the defenses and remind Hortar of his duty. Hortar knew he could not abandon his post and march on the Romans while under their disapproving eyes. Suomar could overrule the nobles, but he was the leader of the Alemanni and Hortar was still only the heir.
The nobles ate and drank and talked; they always talked. Endless talk, how he hated it. As if Thor had heard his words, a scout appeared at the entrance to the grand pavilion, disheveled and tired from a vigorous ride.
“War chief, a large Roman force is closing on our position; they mean to force the crossing!”
Hortar smiled at the news. If he could smash the Roman force decisively, perhaps the nobles would give their blessing to his march. He grabbed his sword and rushed to assemble the men.
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It was a simple plan. The archers would harry the enemy as they approached, the spearmen would hold the enemy after they crossed, and the berserkers would crush them from the flanks. The nobles stood back on the hill, watching the scene with curiosity. Hortar knew he would have to impress them in order to receive their support.
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As the Romans charged and the arrows fell, the enemy horse surprised the war chief and began to swim the river rather than further clogging the bridge. He knew he had to rout the enemy foot before they finish crossing or his spear line would be flanked. Hortar unleashed the berserkers.
…
“Could you believe it?” exclaimed the drunken noble. “Those damn berserkers are insane!”
Hortar nodded and raised his drink in agreement. The ‘zerks had not only won the battle, but they had so impressed the watching nobles that not only had they permitted the march, they were joining it themselves. Those crazy Quadi Lombards had devastated the enemy foot in an instant. However their bloodlust was so high that they refused all reason and rushed to attack the enemy horse in the middle of the river.
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The noble shook his head. “Never have I seen a man swim and fight at the same time, let alone against a mounted foe! With such men, no army can stand against us.”
Hortar grinned. As the jubilant army had looted the bodies of the enemy, they had discovered that the force they had just obliterated was not just any army, it was the garrison of Augusta Trevororum. No scouts had escaped to warn the city of the defeat; the Roman city was nearly empty of defenders and ripe to be plundered. What better way to commemorate Cimberius than to sack the city and use the bounty to aid the Alemanni peasants whose farms provided the majority of income?
Hortar knew it was a precarious move though. His army was not large and he would be abandoning the strong defenses of the bridge. “Plunder and revenge are the only motives,” Hortar reminded himself. “We will strike fast and return fast. There is no danger if we are done before they can react.”
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…
Suomar shook his head in exasperation. Hortar had disobeyed him and left the road to the capital open… and in doing so vastly enriched the treasury. His tactics had been flawless. Hortar had marched immediately upon Augusta Trevororum and sent night raiders over the undefended walls at midnight. The gates had been opened to the Alemanni and the city was bathed in blood. A force of heavy Roman horse had put up a fight in the town square along with the garrison commander, some easily forgotten Roman noble. While Carus still evaded him, Cimberius had been partly avenged with the blood of so many vile Romans.
Suomar had ordered that the treasury be dispersed to the entire realm to improve the farmlands and provide a better income in the long term. Such generosity would ensure that Cimberius’ memory lived on amongst the people. Hortar himself had made only one request: that the Roman temple in Augusta Vendelicorum be knocked down and a new shrine to Thor be erected as thanks to the berserkers whose actions had allowed this great boon.
The smile faded from Suomar’s face as he remembered what lay ahead. In the summer of 375, a large Frankish army had entered Alemanni territory and was encamped only a short distance outside of the capital. Hortar had rushed south with the bulk of his force, leaving the now mature Bertgarda in command of Augusta Trevororum and a token garrison. Bertgarda would abandon the city if a large enemy force appeared, but until then he would hold it, strengthen it, and milk it for all the gold he could.
As expected, the treacherous Franks had declared war and besieged Vicus Alemanni with the young Hrodgar still inside. Suomar’s youngest son was not a fighter. He was more comfortable with parchment and quills and had ably managed the city in his father’s absence, but he could not defeat the Franks. Suomar had left Augusta Vendelicorum to add his forces to those of Hortar’s. With such a large Frankish force attacking the city, every man would be needed. Their forces had met up south of the capital, but the joy at seeing his eldest son had not lasted long. Shortly after combining forces, messengers arrived with dire news.
In the east, the Eastern Empire had unexpectedly launched an attack on Campus Quadi. Rumor had it that a berserker had stolen the daughter of an Eastern noble, but the cause was no longer important. Barely a handful of berserks held the town and they were vastly outnumbered. To make matters worse, Athanaric had been besieged in Carnuntum by a vast Western Roman force and he would be unable to march to the aid of the loyal berserkers. Fast thinking had allowed Suomar’s third son to hire mercenary Alan horse archers and Equites Veteranii. He had dispatched them to aid Quadi before retreating inside the city and preparing for the Roman assault. Hopefully they would arrive in time.
In the west, the news was just as grim. A small Roman force had caught Bertgarda unware and trapped him inside Augusta Trevororum. While the city defenses were strong, Bertgarda himself was untried and his forces were minimal. Suomar feared for his grandson, but the worst news came last. Shortly after Suomar had departed to join his son for the fight against the Franks, Jovianus Carus had returned at the head of a massive army and besieged Augusta Vendelicorum.
All five Alemanni provinces were besieged by superior forces and only Suomar and Hortar’s combined force remained in the field to aid them. This would be a bloody year and the future of the Alemanni was in the balance. Suomar steeled himself for the fight ahead. First he would deal with Franks, then he would take Carus’ head. Hopefully Bertgarda could hold out until then. Athanaric and the berserkers were too far away and would have to take care of themselves.
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…
Suomar and the Alemanni had won every battle they had ever fought against Carus, but Carus had taken the warchief’s eldest sons. Suomar wanted to scream as he looked out at the vast and seemingly empty forest. Somewhere out there was Carus and his force, searching for Suomar. They would find him here, alone, and it would be done.
Hortar had fought valiantly beside Suomar outside of Vicus Alemanni.
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The Frankish force had been smashed and scattered to the winds despite the late arrival of Hrodgar’s men from the city.
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The celebration had been brief though as the Alemanni force was immediately turned south to face Carus.
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The battle had been glorious. The spears had held the center while the bersekers smashed the Roman right and Hortar led the mounted nobles against the Roman left.
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It was there that he had fallen, leading his men in their charge. Another battle won, another son dead and another escape by Carus.
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Hatred and anguish had clouded Suomar’s mind. He had forgotten about his grandson Bertgarda’s plight and pursued Carus south to Mediolanum, determined to finish him once and for all. The gods were good though, and news of victory poured in from all directions. The incredible berserkers and a single band of spearmen had routed the Eastern Roman force with barely any help from the haughty mercenary cavalry.
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At Carnuntum, Athanaric cunningly abandoned the walls and hid his men in the streets. The Romans became lost in the maze of passageways and arrived in the town center in three separate groups. Athanaric was able to defeat them piecemeal and eliminate the threat to the eastern provinces. Even Bertgarda had prevailed, showing that he had inherited his father’s abilities with blades and men. He stood his meager force on the walls and gave no ground. It was a bloody affair, but his choice proved to be the right one and the small force held.
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So many victories, and yet the one that truly mattered to him had not arrived. Carus still lived and now Suomar had been caught by himself by a Roman force sent to aid Carus. They were getting close now, though Carus and his fellow family member were still far behind the main body. What cowards they were. This other one, Gratianus, was such a craven that his own men had named him “Lily-Livered.”
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“It will be over quickly,” the Alemanni leader said to his loyal bodyguards as the heavily armored enemy appeared. “Do not flinch from the blood, we earned this day.”
His face was passive. It showed no emotion at the apparent glee in the enemy’s shouts as they ran towards the lone group of mounted men. It showed no emotion as his vast army rose from their prone positions all around him in the forest. It showed no emotion at the horrible screams of the Romans as they were surrounded and the butchery began.
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Carus and Gratianus finally arrived only to discover the field strewn with the bodies of their men. They ran, but Suomar would not allow it this time. As the berserkers tore Gratianus from his mount and inspected the color of the Roman’s liver for themselves, Suomar led his bodyguards in pursuit of Carus. When at last the coward was overtaken and his blood soaked the ground, a smile finally crossed his face.
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“Hortar ensured that Cimberius would not be forgotten,” Suomar stated to his men while standing next to Carus’ body. “Now let us ensure that Hortar is not forgotten either.” He turned and gestured in the direction of Mediolanum. “The city is empty but for defenseless Romans. I desire that it be empty of them as well.” When it was done, all marks of the name Mediolanum were obliterated from the buildings. From now on, the city would be known as Hortarium.
…
Two years passed in peace. The armies were strengthened, the cities repaired.
In the winter of 379, Suomar returned north, leaving Hortarium in the able hands of Adalmun, Hortar’s second son. It was time to return the favor the Franks had given them three years before.
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Standing over the body of their slain leader, Suomar spoke to the surviving Frankish men and women.
“You sought to take our lands, kill our children and burn our houses. In reply, I take your lands and your houses, but spare you your lives. Leave now, take what you can carry and go east or remain and spend the rest of your lives as slaves. I will not butcher you,” he coldly stated, “but neither shall I be merciful.” Thus began the migration of the Frankish hordes eastward.
“I suspect we have not seen the last of them,” said one of the nobles standing near Suomar.
The Alemanni leader looked at him. “You may be right, but there is not a brave soul amongst them. Look at the numbers of that horde and look at ours; yet who flees from whom? We may fight them again, but we will never fear them.”
…
Suomar was tired. He had led his people through many trials and much bloodshed and now he wanted to rest. Vicus Alemanni was close by and soon he would be able to.
The last few years had shown that the small kingdom he had created no longer needed him to solve all of its problems personally. Shortly after taking the Frankish lands, Hortarium had been besieged. Suomar had gone south to aid the city, but before he got even halfway word came that Adalmun had won a heroic victory.
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Hortar’s son had burned the Roman siege weapons and then trapped them in their hour of victory.
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As they had poured through the sapped walls, he had unleashed the berserkers and ridden down the enemy personally.
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As expected, the Frankish hordes forgot the kindness of Suomar and the strength of the Alemanni. Their massive force entered the eastern provinces and a vanguard besieged Campus Quadi.
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Once again Suomar set out with his army to save the kingdom from disaster. Once again, his aid was not needed. Athanaric positioned himself at the bridge crossing to draw off the horde into a battle that would favor him, but even this was not needed. The berserkers single-handedly drove off the vanguard of the Franks and the horde moved north into Lombard lands, showing that they still remained fearful of Alemanni wrath.
Athanaric’s force was in turn pressed by an Eastern Roman force which fell into the trap that he had laid for the Franks. Suomar, hearing of his eldest living son and heir’s growing reputation on the field of battle, decided that it was time to rest. He was nearing 60 and had spent little time at home in the last two decades. He dispatched the strength of his army, a vast force of Chosen Axemen and Noble Warriors, to ensure that Athanaric’s army could stand against anything thrown against them. This completed, he turned his remaining men for home.
Yet rest was not to be his just yet. Shortly before reaching Vicus Alemanni, a terrible plague reached the city, preventing him from entering.
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As Suomar sat in a cold tent outside the walls, word came that the Burgundii had made a grab for the former Frankish territory.
“Have we no friends?” sighed Suomar. “Why must we spend so much time fighting fellow pagans when it is the Roman threat that we should all be concerned with.”
Leaving the Vicus Alemanni garrison in place for fear of spreading the plague, Suomar once again broke camp and marched north. When he finally came upon the Burgundii encampment, he nearly wept.
“Such a pitiful force! I do not enjoy battles such as these. Swatting flies is not the mark of a warrior. Come, let us be done with this mockery and return home.”
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The short battle was predictable and unremarkable. The plague finally abated and Suomar once again made his way towards Vicus. Now, here he was only miles from home, but he was having doubts. He could rest and live out the remainder of his years in peace, managing the affairs of the capital and passing on his able war counsel to his sons and grandsons. He wanted to do this, but deep down he also feared it. He had been a warrior all his life, could he truly leave that life behind? His kingdom was not powerful, but it was strong and able to defend itself. Yet, it was surrounded by enemies on all sides and there was still much work to be done.
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Perhaps there was room for at least one more ride…
It was the summer of 384 AD.
Suomar, the great leader and warchief of the Alemanni had decided to go to war...
He had made his choice the night before, he had called a war council and demanded all the influential nobles to aid him in the expansion of Alemanni lands.
''Why bother risc our our lives, solely to rise you Honor Suomar !'' a scarred and heavy built noble exclaimed. The table, which was full of talk just moments before, turned quiet, awaiting Suomar's undoubtedly harsh response.
'' I never knew that you were such a fool, Radgar !''
'' Surely you can see beyond personnel glory for just one minute ?! '' Suomar exclaimed with added disbelief in his voice.
'' This campaign will not be for my sake, although I would - and you all know it - have more than enough reasons to do so. It is for you all, my friends in war and peace, that we must ride out now. Deep down you surely all know this ?''
Suomar sat down, and poured the remaining ale in his cup down his throat, pretending to not care what the nobles, and especially Radgar, would say.
He need their support, he knew a campaign this big would need the support of all Alemanni tribes.
Radgar still standing looked at the others who were sitting at the table all of them avoiding his black keen eyes'' all fools every single one of them !'', he thought, he was the only one who saw right threw Suomar, the only one !
These wretched men would follow these men even if the fight would take them over the great ocean !
Still Radgar knew he had no chance of winning this battle...
He cleared his throat, and began to speak;
''Suomar, my friend, please accept my apologies, by Thor please ! ''
'' I will, with my fellow Alemannii support you, to whatever end and by whatever road you desire, King of all the free Alemanni people ! ''
Radgar had said these words with as much sweetness as he could, defying Suomar with words once might end with your head still on your body, twice however would be like committing suicide - only a bit more painful. Radgar was not a stupid man, and had perfected the art of orating to a much better extend than probably Suomar himself, but he would very much like to keep that ability instead of taking it with him to his grave.
Suomar now stood again, eying all the men sitting at the table his eyes lingering on Radgar for a fleeting moment spoke to the nobles :
'' friends and warriors, we march for Rome ! ''
Suomar saw his army march through the big hills to Hortarium, hoping to add men to his already great army and head for Rome in the shortest amount of time.
He reckoned it would take them about a year and a half to glimpse Rome's great walls.
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Succes he doubted not, every single man in his army would take at least 2 enemy's to a bloody death before he would die himself.
And of course he knew his berserkers would do even better than that.
He was daydreaming about his sucesses on the campaign when a tall yet fragile looking man, riding a brown old horse, spoke to him :
'' my King, shall we set camp up around here, my men are getting tired''
Suomar acknowledged, and decided to get some sleep too. He had found his headaches - which got worse every day - would ebb down while sleeping.
He blamed it on his age, and of course on that damned wind !
They were in Italy now, and messengers were hurrying back and forth, exitedly giving news of a large force of Romans heading their way.
Suomar, having resupplied both in men and food, was not as worried as his nobles.
'' Are we ready, o King ? '' he asked, trying to make his voice sound steady.
'' The men and I have been longing to spill some Roman blood for ages, of course they are ready ! Suomar said, not hiding his pleasure at the battle before hand.
We shall destroy them all.
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The battle commenced and no sooned had Suomar given order to march towards the Roman battle line, when he heard his scouts shout at him... what they said he didn't hear... something as '' Romans ... they....ehind us ! ''
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Suomar finally understood what was being said when Radgar came up to him, looking tired, exclaiming the second Roman commander had cowerdly snuck up behind The Alemanii main line !.
Suomar hiding his anger at his own stupidity, bade Radgar to go back to his cavalry, which he was to command for this days battle.
Suomar knew that to win, he had to wipe out the army that kay in front of him, before reforming his line to face the army in his back.
He immediatly ordered his troops to speed up, and once in postion he ordered his chosen axemen charge the Roman main line.
The Romans held out only until Radgar charged his cavaly units in the enemy rear, killing the Roman general Honorius, while he was trying to flee from the main fight.
Suomar had seen the enemy army come closer every second, and cried out with joy when Radgar charged home.
He immediatly ordered his foot soldiers, including the uncommited berserkers to form up, and await the comming of the second enemy army - almost 3 times as big as the one they had just destroyed.
They were close now, so close you could see their grim faces as the enemy soldiers advanced and came to a halt before the Alemanni main line.
Not wanting to let his men stand in the rain of Pila that would surely begin in just a moment, ordered all his units to charge in to the enemy line.
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The fight was bitter, but the Alemanni army had the benefit of fighting under their most accomplished leader in ages, wheras the Romans were fighting under command of a man who had never before fought an enemy similar to the one he was fighting now, a Captain Gainus - what kind of name is that anyway ?
The enemy soon started to crumble on the flanks and so their centre was over run.
Victory was total, and the Path to Rome was empty...
The army could now see Rome, a loud cheer errupted from the front ranks of Suomar's army.
They were almost there, just a little longer and they would be bathing in strange things called ''baths'' and plundering heathen temples, the soldiers could not wait - Suomar and his nobles were just as restless.
A mile still had to be marched to the gates, when suddenly Suomar spotted something moving near the gates. It was big, and it reflected back the sunlight as Suomar tried to get a glimpse of this new foe - who had just appeared out of thin air, so it seemed to him.
His soldiers were equally worried, they were blinded, couldn't see their enemy, until the sun was suddenly blocked by a large black cloud.
Revealing a new and powerfull foe to the Alemanni soldiers.
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Radgar had been daydreaming the entire day until he saw the grand army appear out of nowhere and march out to fight them...
He had not thought he would have to fight again, or at least hoped he would not have to...
He was no coward, but he did need rest just like any other man, and his limbs were still aching from the battle 2 days ago.
''Will I survive ? '' he thought , but immediatly dismissed that thought, of course he would, no one could beat Suomar in an open field battle, even Radgar had to acknowledge that the King knew what he was doing, he had hated to admit it at first, but knew he could not cheat himself.
Suomar was not going to be defeated, he just wouldn't not when a mere mile seperated him from that illustrous city of Rome.
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again the Romans managed to outmanouver the Alemanni army, doing this however they had to separate in small groups, making themselves vulnerable to Suomar's archers and cavalry.
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The battle started with skirmishes on the right flank, followed by a foolish head on charge by the enemy general.
Only when Suomar charged the man himself , did the by Roman standards brave man die.
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After that, the army routed, and was hunted down:
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The army looted the dead enemy bodies, burnt their own - and set forth to Rome...
They would not be kind.
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Bertgarda was an ambitious man, like most men in his familly.
He was a grandchild to Suomar, and also Hortar's son, and had inherited Hortar's keen mind and Suomar's command talent and thankfully, his mothers looks.
Ever since he had heard of Suomar's first great victory in Venetia, Bertgarda had been longing for some battle field experience himself.
He longed to go to war, and why should he not, he had a good experienced army and there was always a nearby city to conquer.
That city, Bertgarda had decided, was to be Colonia Agrippina.
Colonia Agrippina was a Roman held city, though with a lot of Gallic people in it. Prospering from Roman rule, but always willing to be free of Roman oppression - or as they themselves called it : Romanization.
Bertgarda was practically given a blanco cheque by his people, and did not hesitated to accept it.
He immediatly set forth with an army of 800 men strong, which he figured would be enough to last him to Colonia Agrippina and who knows, maybe even beyond.
Bergarda was optimistic, they had heard no strong Roman force was in hte area, or so his scouts reported.
He led his unit of loyal bodyguard, chosen by their bravery and unwavering loyalty, to the top of a nearby hill. Watching his army move across the country side.
'' How much of them will still be living a year from now '' he asked himself.
'' a lot hopefully '' his friend and guard Cingeto said, a smile across his face.
'' yes my friend, my thought's exactly, though I do hope I am one of them '' Bertgarda anwered ignoring the jest in his friend's reply.
'' You can not possibly die with me on your side, you do realize that my lord '' Cingeto spoke, the smile across his face widened considerably when his friend returned his words with a smile.
'' for now, however, we must make ready for battle '' a large man said on Cingeto's right side, in a serious tone of voice.
'' How do you know ? '' Bertgarda and Cingeto asked at the same time.
The man just pointed his finger at a tired looking scout, hurrying to their position, his face betrayed the message he had to give.
Bergarda immediatly stopped his army and made a solid line, and soon enough he saw the enemy army moving towards them, it would take a while before they were here though, he thought. How long, no one knew.
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The plan was simple, his spearmen would hold the mijn line - guarding their positions, while the archers positioned in front of them inflicted as much casualties on the enemy as they could when the enemy was in range. After which they would continue to attack only once they would be safe once more behind the spearmen.
Bertgarda would try and flank the enemy general, and kill him in a one on one battle.
Bertgarda was a great planner, and his men were sure the day was theirs, whearas the Roman levies wanted nothing better than to turn back to the warmth and safety of Colonia Agrippina.
The battle was fought in exactly the same way as Bertgarda planned. And most Roman units fled after their first ranks were impaled on the Alemannii spears.
Including thier fool of a general.
This army was no mere army, it was a garrisson, Colonia Agroppina's garisson to be precise.
So Bertgarda and his army raced after their defeated enemy and found the city's gate's opened by Gallic - or better said - Alemannii loyalists.
They were the only ones spared in the ensuing slaughter and rape of the great city Colonia Agrippina
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For now, Bertgarda's mission was compleet.
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His black war horse walked out of Carnuntum's gate, in the sadle sat a tall and muscular man, his face was scarred his eyes were a mixture of green and black, and gave him an air of command and authority.
Around his waste he had fastened his sword, around his back a long wooden spear.
He was riding out to war.
This man was Athanaric, heir to the Alemanni throne, son of the great leader Suomar.
Even though his titel would have given any man pleasure beyond pleasure he did not like it at this moment...
'' I want you to stay in the east my son '' the letter had said
'' someone must watch our back while I head south, I trust only you to do this ''
He had frowned at this last piece of new information, Rome ? That was the only city he knew that lay beyond the southern most city of the empire, Hortarium.
'' Would my father really go '' he spoke these words to no one in particular.
He did not know, he had though he had known his father, but he liked to think that only the Gods knew his father and even they were sometimes surprised at what this man would - and could - do.
He continued reading the letter.
the last lines said
'' Do not disappoint me, if you fall, you'll take us all with you ''.
The letter had been sent by his father. He had received it the day before his march was planned to commence.
But now there was a burden on his shoulder a heavy one, for his father had more or less said he wanted his son to stay where he was, he didn't want to risk his eastern most provinces, however Athenaric had been planning this for as long as he was in that piece of shit that , Carnuntum was.
So now he was ready to go, but he had to stay, disobeying a command from your King was just as good as riding into a wall of spears.
Athanaric however had decided he was going to act as if he never had received the letter, and ordered the bringer of the letter to be executed on the spot, and burned the letter himself that very evening.
Athanaric was riding out to war.
His plan was to ride north and purge the Frankish hordes from his nations lands, he had always haten them, and never quite forgave his father for not finishing them off when he had the chance, so many years ago.
He knew they would be back, those people could not be trusted, that was common knowledge.
He would not make his father's mistake again.
His scouts had reported that the hordes were about three days marching ahead, already weakened by minor skirmished with the Burgundii in the North.
Athanaric encountered his hated enemy on the third day
Athanaric lead the army from the back:
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The two lines met, and the air was filled with screames, cheeres and the sounds of metal clashing against shield and slicing through bone and armor.
The enemy was not giving up any ground at all.
Athanaric grinned, now would be a good time to end this battle he said, and ordered the archer standing next to him to fire.
The archer strung his bow and released a flaming arrow which flew into the sky... it was meant as a signal.
no sooner had the arrow been shot, did the cavalry came out of their hiding places and crashed into the heavily engaged center:
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Killing the enemy general himself, thereby wiping out the back bone of the Frankish strengt.
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Victory was a fact.
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Athanaric gave a triumphant shout, and ordered his troops to chase the surviving enemies.
The Frankish hordes were almost destroyed and fled from the chasing Alemannii.
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Suomar was lying in his bed in the most luxurious house in Rome.
His every movement hurt him, his breathing was hard, and his head was aching more than ever.
Every hour, an Alemanni doktor came changed the sheets of his bed but could do no more than watch as the pain slowly consumed his great King and warchief.
That same night,the pain subsided for just a moment and Suomar closed his eyes and slept.
He never did awake.
The Greatest leader the Alemanni ever had, was now drinking with his ancestors in the afterlife...
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Athanaric was now King of the Alemanni.
What kind of King he would be ? Only time can tell.
:balloon2:
Our people and ways have spread far. Once we were not but bickering tribes within the dark forests of Germany. Now, now we are a powerful kingdom in the heart of Europe. But that will change, for the Alemanni people will become more than any petty kingdom; we shall become an empire the world will never forget!
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The stage has been set. Our lands spread from the Italian Alps to the English Channel to the borders of the Burgundii kingdoms. Athanaric, the fearsome and dangerous king, and Alfuuihi, his second-in-command and a famous warrior, are positioned in the easternmost realm of the Alemanni kingdom. Regardless though, the Eastern Roman Empire has tossed together several large armies to prevent Alemanni expansion. Besides that our military is spread thin with most military forces doing garrison duty on borderland provinces and poor farmers working garrison duty in the German heart of our lands.
In the north, the Burgundii and Franks are the major threats and they have begun to push southward towards Vicus Franki and Campus Marcomanni, shortly they will be besieging the cities. A small Alemanni defensive force positioned on a bridge has already been killed. Surely they will not be the only ones.
On the northeastern border Bertgarda, the faction heir, is planning a tactically sound and economically important invasion of the Roman-controlled southern Britian.
In the south near the Italian Peninsula, the destruction of all Roman pagan temples has been ordered by none other than King Athanaric himself. Unrest is common not only in the streets of Hortarium and Rome but across the vast countryside. But already Adalmun and Gerold are making their own plots to unite the peninsula and possibly even southern Gaul at the same time. Yet the Western Roman Empire still has several large garrisons and powerful armies to prevent Adalmun and Gerold’s plans.
Doubts have been raised as to whether Athanaric will be able to maintain the mighty kingdom Suomar created. But only time will tell…
395 A.D. was a year of great and horrible things for the Alemanni. The previous winter had brought the Alemanni’s rivals, the Burgundii, farther south. Vicus Franki and Campus Marcomanni had quickly been besieged and awaited relief from a recent addition to the royal family. Lanfred, a strong-willed individual with great potential, had just married into the family and was near-instantly given the job of relieving Vicus Franki from the Burgundii. Just before spring, the garrison at Campus Marcomanni sallied forth from the walls and forced the Burgundii to retreat.
That summer the Eastern Army came into conflict with the Goth horde. Victory seemed certain for the Alemanni, but the Goths were not ones to shy away from a battle, not matter what the odds:
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Athanaric used his Lombard archers to pin the Gothic cavalry and infantry to the ground before charging in with his own cavalry division.
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Athanaric’s reign as king would not be a long one. He had vastly underestimated the Goths when he led the cavalry charge. The Goths had traveled half-way across of Europe and while their numbers had diminished substantially it had made the remaining men all that much tougher. Athanaric was quickly cut down by the more experienced Gothic force. Alfuuihi acted quickly and ordered the cavalry back. He then ordered the army’s spear infantry forward and the Goths, running high on adrenaline, foolishly charged into the forest of spears. Alfuuihi himself killed the Gothic king who had been responsible for the death of Athanaric. Alfuuihi’s quick reactions would not only be responsible for his appointment as general of the Eastern Army by the new king, Bertgarda, but would also help throughout the many campaigns he would take part in.
Several days after defeating the Goths at Pannonia, the Alemanni would fight the Western Romans in the streets of Hortarium.
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Knowing that he would not be able to stop the Roman engineers from sapping the walls, Adalmun created a blockade in one of the larger roads that cut its way to the center of the town.
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Adalmun ordered the forces that remained on the wall to fall back behind the blockade before the walls of Hortarium crumbled in on itself.
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Unforunately, not even Adalmun could control his mad berserkers who charged out through the recently caved-in walls and attacked the enemy cavalry who waited outside the gates.
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Then, the Alemanni general pulled all his forces together at the blockade and ordered his spearmen into a circular formation to stave off any cavalry charges. The archers, most of whom had already depleted all of their arrows, stood behind the spear and axe men and harassed the enemy from their point of relative safety.
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After fighting in that single street for most of the day, the Western Romans made one more charge with their own mercenary camels, imported from Carthage. But the spearmen never faltered and sent the last of the Western Roman army east, back to Ravenna.
That winter Londinium was taken in a near-bloodless victory. The miniscule garrison was quickly defeated by the Alemanni chosen axemen. After a quick celebration the invasion force went about exterminating the city. But this too was part of Bertgarda’s grand scheme; he knew that the British Romans were a proud people who would not take well to occupation and if they had to set an example this is how it would be done. For the next several years it would seem like the extermination of Londinium had been a good idea, for their would be no British Roman revolts…
Bertgarda may not have been a fine warrior like the Suomar and Athanaric, the previous kings of the Alemanni, but he was a smart one nonetheless. By taking Londinium he had opened a large and profitable trade between Samarobriva and Londinium that would bring in large profits every year. Suddenly, the Alemanni no longer looked at the raiding of Roman towns for their wealth but instead to trade:
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In the Italian Peninsula, Gerold had left the walls of the once great city, Rome, and was pushing north towards Ravenna with his own army. Yet after laying siege to the city, he was attacked by the Roman army that had been defeated at Hortarium and the garrison of Ravenna. Gerold’s smaller army was about to be attacked from two sides by two powerful foes.
The victory-less besiegers of Hortarium were the first to arrive on the scene and were the first to leave with their tails between their legs. Whether it was from the recent loss at Hortarium, the ferocity of Gerold’s soldiers, or a little bit of both does not matter; the end result was several minutes of fighting before the Roman army turned tail and ran.
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While Gerold and his berserkers rode down the Roman cowards, the rest of the army fought and quickly defeated the garrison of Ravenna. But Gerold did not let the cowards escape and rode them down leaving Ravenna defenseless.
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For his excellent fighting outside of Ravenna, King Bertgarda adopted him into his own family and appointed him the head general of the Italian Peninsula.
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In the north, the Burgundii finally attacked Vicus Franki. A Burgundii victory seemed certain for they were fighting nothing more than a mob of poorly-equipped and untrained villagers.
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Regardless of what should’ve happened, the Burgundii lancers and spearmen were defeated by the disorderly mob.
In the east Alfuuihi and the Eastern Army came into conflict with the Burgundii as well. By February the two armies clashed in the north eastern end of the Alemanni kingdom. The two armies quickly lined up before they met each other on the battlefield.
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Alfuuihi’s cavalry chewing up the enemy cavalry and missile units before smashing in the Burgundii left flank:
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The fierce fighting of Alemanni and Burgundii spearmen as well as a neighboring mercenary golden band of warriors:
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By the winter of 398 Bertgarda’s dream had grown farther than just controlling southern Britian, now he wanted control of both islands. He chose his son-in-law Lanfred to lead the attack on Eburacum, the last British Roman stronghold. It was here the last governor of Roman Britian resided. They called him the Horseman for not only his skills as a cavalry commander but also because he was rarely seen off his own trusty mount.
That didn’t change anything for Lanfred though; the young man was eager to prove himself in battle after disgracing himself in a defeat against the Frankish horde in northern Germany. Had it not been for the events that followed the capture of Eburacum it is likely Lanfred himself would’ve led his men north towards the Celtic lands for he had already hired some mercenary gallowglasses to serve garrison duty.
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Placus the Horseman’s men were not capable of holding the walls of Eburacum and Lanfred’s own axemen quickly overwhelmed the much less skilled Roman garrison.
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Placus awaited Lanfred in the center of the city. While Lanfred’s axemen and Placus’s cohorts fought the two men and their bodyguards charged each other. But after quickly defeating the cohorts the Alemanni axemen turned around and chopped their way through Placus’s mounted bodyguard. By the end of the battle Placus the Horseman lay in the center of Eburacum dismounted and dead.
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While Eburacum was not under Alemanni occupation the British Romans did not roll over as Lanfred and Bertgarda had planned. The northern British Romans picked up arms against the Alemanni. By the end of winter, Maglocunus Sanctus, once a British Roman himself, had joined the revolt as the new leader. He had arrived from the still Roman controlled Campus Frisii. These powerful rebels called themselves the Romano-British and were set solely on the goal to remove the Alemanni from their land.
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Within six months the Romano-British were ready to strike against the Alemanni and their first target was Londinium. Unfortunately, Londinium’s garrison commander was unexpierenced and untalented and no one expected him to hold the city against the superior Romano-British army and the military genius, Maglocunus Sanctus.
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But the garrison commander, Captain Malorix, realized something very peculiar about the Romano-British army. They were all very experienced warriors and most were talented horsemen. But the Romano-British army lacked two major components of a well-balanced army, infantry and archers.
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Thus, Malorix ordered all of the infantry under his command on to the walls of Londinium to try and defeat the few British Legionaries and coastal levies.
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The Romano-British cavalry, incapable of assisting their infantry was forced to wait outside the walls and watch the legionaries get hacked to bits or fall from the walls.
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Eventually the Romano-British became so desperate to take the walls they ordered their holy men to climb the ladders up on to the walls. To say the least, it didn’t work one bit.
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The Romano-British would flee Londinium without a single man on foot amongst them. While they were far from defeated it seemed their ability to defeat the Alemanni in either Londinium or Eburacum was gone.
In the Italian Peninsula, Captain Duva led a large force towards Massilia. Trying to prevent further Roman defeats the Roman general Oppius Flavius ordered all nearby Roman forces to try and crush the Alemanni army before it reached the walls of Massilia. Thus Captain Duva found himself surrounded in southern Gaul.
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The battle did not last long though, partly because Oppius Flavius himself was quickly isolated, surrounded, and killed by the Alemanni axemen.
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Flavius’s reinforcements were quickly defeated by Duva, who first showered them with arrows and then sent his axemen to finish off the cohorts.
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Shortly after Duva’s victory something unthinkable happened. Bertgarda met with an Eastern Roman diplomat and both of them stayed up that night in Samarobriva. They drank and yelled as they each tried to gain more from the peace talks. In the end, to the horror of the Alemanni people, Bertgarda agreed to become a procterate kingdom under the Eastern Romans as well as put the sword down in the war between the Alemanni and the Western Romans. In exchange Bertgarda received a large amount of gold as well as a large chunk of Eastern Roman land which included Aquincum.
While people across the kingdom were outraged at this, threatening to overthrow Bertgarda or even some of the king’s own family members trying to break free from Alemanni rule, Bertgarda had his reasons. By controlling Aquincum and the land around it he opened new trade routes with people from the east like the Vandals. At the same time he knew that Aquincum would be necessary for any further expansion in the east and besides, he had no intention of keeping his word with the Eastern Romans.
Shortly after the peace talks the Alemanni were ordered to go back to their old ways. Gerold launched besieged and quickly took the near-undefended city of Tarentum in southern Italy. Vicus Chatii was besieged by Alfuuihi who had pursued the Burgundii north into hostile territory. Captain Duva himself had regathered his forces and besieged Duva.
Duva, now an honorary member of the Alemanni royal family, launched his assault on Massilia against that winter. The Roman city was defended by a small garrison and a young, untested general. The Roman general, Andragathius, was famed from Spain to Constantinople for his seemingly godly perfection. Women (and even some men) across the world who had never even seen the man talked of his beauty. Duva thought of how great it would be to smash the pretty Roman boys face with his axe.
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Duva’s loyal followers quickly fought their way across the Roman walls and seized control of the gateway, allowing Captain Duva himself to hunt down Andragathius.
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Duva and his axemen charged towards the center of the town eventually meeting the Roman general. Duva’s personal guard crashed into the back of Andragathius’s bodyguard, killing the pretty-Roman boy.
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Meanwhile, Alfuuihi led his own men in the assault against Vicus Chatii. The Burgundii had harassed the Alemanni border for two long. Now it was time to bring the way to them.
Alfuuihi quickly ordered a group of axemen and a golden band up on the Burgundii walls. The fighting was fierce and very close leaving many Alemanni and Burgundii corpses strewn about the walls.
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After seizing the walls Alfuuihi, his loyal cavalry, and his fierce berserkers attacked the Burgundii general who was hiding in the center of the city.
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The Eastern Romans, not willing to take such disgustful treatment launched an attack against Aquincum in hopes of punishing the Alemanni. The men who once served garrison duty in Aquincum were sent to deal with the rebellious Germans.
The Eastern Romans, with the help of many ladders and siege towers, pushed their way to the walls of Aquincum. The Alemanni seemed to put up enough of a fight to begin with but eventually the superior Roman infantry forced the Alemanni from the walls of Aquincum.
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On another end of the wall the Eastern Romans released a surprise force which seized one of the gateways which would later allow the Roman cavalry to attack the center of Aquincum.
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Unfortunately for the Romans, their warriors were too tired and spread out to contend with the Alemanni cavalry who destroyed the separated groups of Romans as they attempted to make their way to the center of the city.
By the summer of 402, Arles, in southern Gaul, was captured by Captain Duva in an easy, uneventful victory. Suddenly it became apparent to not only the Alemanni but also the rest of the world: the imperialism of Rome had ended. A new power had risen from the dark forests of Germania. The Alemanni had spread their ways and culture from Roman controlled Britain to the southern end of the Italian Peninsula like so many other great empires before them like the Macedons, Egyptians, and of course the Romans.
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King Bertgarda sat back on his new throne in Samarobriva and pondered these things himself. He thought of the great men who had come before him and who had helped found the great Empire that rolled out in every direction. Suomar had made a small tribe of brave Germans into a powerful kingdom with the help of his sons Hortar and Cimberius, both of whom had sacrificed their lives for the good of the kingdom.
Bertgarda himself had once fought beside his father, Hortar, and grandfather, Suomar. But that seemed ages ago. Somehow as the kingdom grew he found his place became within the newfound capital of Samarobriva more and more. Perhaps this is how it had been with the Romans too. Maybe they too had started out like the Alemanni as great warriors, but as their land grew their old ways faded. Somehow, Bertgarda knew this to be true.
But he did not have time for such reflections, there was an Empire to be run and whether he wanted to or not it had become his job to do so. The Alemanni had rose to great power but it would take more power still to maintain their current Empire. Maglocunus Sanctus and the Romano-British were still raping the Alemanni controlled Britian. In the east the Burgundii and Eastern Roman Empire, both bitter from their defeats, plotted against their hated neighbor, the Alemanni. In the west the Western Romans had been isolated in the Spanish Peninsula, but they still had teeth and would still bite if they got the chance. Perhaps there were even new threats to the recent Alemanni Empire; the Western Roman Rebels had grown powerful on African Coast and Mediterranean and the Vandals had grown powerful in northern Greece…
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Maybe the struggle was just beginning…