The Rise of the Alemanni - PBM write-ups thread

[econ21]

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.



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



Only the fierce fighting of Hortar’s own mounted escort…



…and the late arrival of Cimberius’s men save the Alemanni from defeat.



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.



Sometimes the Roman detachments found themselves hopeless outmatched and fled the battlefield, hotly pursued by the Alemanni.



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.”