The Battle for Rome
The Senate Command Tent, the night before the battle
Marcellus Aemilius, having just returned from the fateful meeting with his nephew, dismounted. He wasn’t quite sure why he had agreed to go through with that. Servius was a traitor, he should have brought some guards with him and arrested him right there! But no, he couldn’t. It was not his way. He knew, however, that by the end of the next day, he would regret it a thousand times over for each man killed, each good family shattered forever.
Decius Laevinius was waiting for him at the entrance of the tent. “How’d it go?” he asked.
Marcellus sighed miserably. Decius chuckled.
“That bad, eh?”
“Yeah, that bad. I’m pretty sure he knew about Carthage.”
“And his reasons for starting the war?”
“Power grab.”
Decius nodded and beckoned to Marcellus. Together the men entered the tent, where four other generals were waiting for them. The men present were not who Marcellus would handpick to fight this battle.
So we have Decius’ father, Publius. He was a fine Roman – twenty years ago. But then he lost that eagle at Massilia Ford and hasn’t seen any action in over a decade. My tribune Augustus Porcius is a fine man, but he’s just that – a tribune. The man simply doesn’t have enough talent or combat prowess to advance to legate. Vibius Domna was utterly useless as Governor of Roma, and has never fought a battle. Oh well, perhaps he might surprise us all. And then there was Luca Mamilius, the man who was in the spotlight once about 30 years ago for saving Verginius’ life, and ever since that he had been drinking and womanizing. Where’s Lucius or Coruncanius or even Numerius when I need them?
Marcellus, who was unaware of what happened for the past thirty minutes or so, spoke.
“All right, what do we have?”
Luca spoke up. “Marcellus, Servius’ army is coming from the north, reinforced by Quintus Naevius and the garrison of Ariminium. The deep woods to the north are shadowing their movement somewhat, but we believe that Servius is on the eastern flank and has the garrison in reserve.”
Marcellus nodded. “And our placement?”
Decius now took over. “You’re going to be facing Servius, with me in reserve. As we all know, Servius is the person we need to target so we’re concentrating on him. Besides, he’ll probably summon the Ariminium garrison commander (let’s see, what was his name? Appius Ignatius.), so you’ll need some help anyway.”
Decius’ razor-sharp mind had most likely gone through every possible scenario, calculating and inferring, until the optimal strategy would surface. Although he had never been in a battle before, this man was an excellent person to have around the night before one. The question was, would he lose face in the moment of truth?
The generals talked about strategy long through the night. Luca was arguing for wearing Servius down, Decius for shattering him with a massed cavalry attack. Both had merits. However, the main strategy, which none of them spoke of but all of them knew, was to bring down the man himself. Capture or kill Servius, and the war would be over. There would be no one else to take over. The people were loyal to him. He was the chain of command.
The tent soon had another occupant. The six generals stared. Was it an assassin who managed to get past the guards?
No, it was a young man dressed in battle-armor of a Roman patrician. The man’s handsome features could not hide his young age (sixteen) or the traits that so commonly identified his family. Kaeso Coruncanius, brother of Manius and loyal to the Senate, had joined the group.
Decius was the first to speak. “I thought Marcellus had ordered you south. Away from Roma.”
Kaeso scoffed. “I cannot, in good graces, stay away from this battle at the moment where every man counts. I have brought fifteen loyal Praetorians with me. We can, and want to fight. We want to redeem the Coruncanius honor.”
Augustus Porcius, mostly quiet, spoke up in a gentle tone. “Son, this is not the place for someone your age. Do you have a death wish?”
Marcellus chipped in. “Please, Kaeso. I do not any more Coruncanii dying needlessly. Go back to the Scriptorium. Live a good life. Teach future generations about what took place here, and why we are still a Republic.”
Kaeso, however, was adamant. “How can you say that? How will I be able to live with myself, teaching all those people about what happened? What will I say when they ask where I was? Marcellus, your brother Oppius was the same age when he was at that Battle of the Fort, and his intervention was decisive! Why can’t that be me here?”
Marcellus knew that the next argument would be futile but said it nevertheless. “That was different. Oppius was-“
“Oppius was my age! Don’t be a hypocrite, Marcellus. I saw through that letter that Servius sent to everyone but after this, I’m not so sure. I’m staying.”
Marcellus, beaten, sighed. “Okay, fine. If you must. Stay with Luca. He’ll need some help against Quintus.”
And so, the seven generals, ranging from sixteen to sixty in age, went to sleep. By the next night the war would either be won or lost. Dreams would be fulfilled, or careers shattered forever. But all thoughts of glory and the Republic soon turned to sleep. Night was upon them all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morning
Before they marched, the soldiers looked at Marcellus expectantly. It seemed like they were expecting a speech; some encouraging words from their general to lead them to victory on this most critical of battles. Even Augustus Porcius, Marcellus’ tribune, was ready for one. But they would be denied.
“In order to win this battle I am going to have to exhibit a colossal disregard for human life,” Marcellus said to Augustus. “If I look too many of these men in the eye I am afraid that I will not have the guts to do what is needed. These men know me from Afrika. They know my style of fighting, and they know what is expected of them. That is all they need.”
Marcellus would establish his headquarters somewhat behind and to the left of his infantry reserves, leaving Augustus to command the critical Senate cavalry on the right. Reinforced with the Praetoria of Publius Laevinius and Vibius Domna, they would be an unstoppable blow to the Consular forces, smashing through the flank and rolling his army over. This would be the day where all doubts about Augustus Porcius would be proven wrong. This would be the day where he would become a major player in Roman politics, taking a leading role in the reconstruction of the Republic.
And it would be a glorious day for Publius Laevinius too, if Fortuna smiled upon the Senate that day. He had been a has-been, a relic ever since he was stripped of his titles and positions over ten years ago. This would be the day that he put that all behind him, and regained his honor, either by proving his worth on the battlefield or dying a glorious death.
Or both.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Forwarrrrrd… MARCH!”
The general plans were simple. Marcellus’ advance guard was to wait up for the rearguard, and then they were to engage and destroy Servius’ famed Iberian veterans (with some help from Decius). Then, Marcellus and Decius would turn to the west and finish off the last army loyal to the Consul, the one belonging to Quintus Naevius.
However, no general in the history of warfare ever had the battle go exactly as planned out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Late Morning
Augustus Porcius was getting worried. Sure, it was perhaps anxiety before his moment of glory but he had been in battles before. Something was wrong. The Numidian skirmishers expended their javelins to little effect, and Decius was taking too much time to bring his army up. The man was probably still thinking that he was in Corinth, drawing up the plans for the construction of a new building. By now, Servius’ lackey Appius Ignatius was probably up with his force. It was small, but still packed a punch, and if they came for him… Augustus shuddered. Better not to think about it. Publius Laevinius was a reliable commander who was probably anxious to prove himself after the disaster at Massilia. He would bring with him 60 fine Praetorians. That would be enough to overturn any flank.
Then he saw two things happening. First, to the left of him, Marcellus’ army was advancing at a slow pace.
“Why?” he thought to himself. “He knows the value of this flank. Shouldn’t he wait until Publius comes up?” And then, to the rear, he saw what he had been looking for. Publius’ Praetorians, as well as some Gallic alae, were moving to them. This was more than he had hoped for. He grinned. This battle would be over sooner than anyone had hoped.
…
Marcellus was watching it all, calmly. He was worried about the left flank, particularly if Quintus defeated Luca quickly and moved on to crush him, but said nothing. If all went well, Servius would have other problems.
He saw a rider coming in from the west. In the far distance, a few units of Italians were heading their way. This would either be a welcome blessing or terrible news. The rider came up to Marcellus and delivered his message, breathlessly:
“Sir! I am a runner for the Italians currently approaching the field! Luca Mamilius sends them, along with his compliments!”
Marcellus looked at the rider in wonder. “Then… he must be doing better than expected against Quintus! How goes the fight to the west?”
“What fight? The two haven’t engaged yet!”
Marcellus now took on an expression of puzzlement. “Then why would he send them…? No matter. We’ll put them to good use. Tell whoever is commanding them to flank those Roman troops to the left! As soon as they are pinned, flank!”
The rider took off with a “yes, sir!” leaving Marcellus to continue watching the armies move.
Across the green fields of Latium, the same fields that Marcellus and Servius had crossed to meet one final time the night before, the same fields that would soon be soaked with blood, over two Consular armies marched to destroy the other. Some men, those who were the most intelligent, wondered what the Republic had come to, when it sends Romans to destroy fellow Romans. Some looked upon the other side with utter distaste, convinced that their enemy had abandoned all thoughts toward ruler and country. And some, notably the Afrikan and Gallic mercenaries, were suddenly regretting their chosen line of work when they saw what lied ahead of them.
But they all marched forward, nonetheless. And then they came together, engulfed in the fiercest melee the known world had ever seen. For there were no Gallic or Thracian alae to muddy the waters. This was nothing but Romans against Romans. Italians against Italians. The one Afrikan phalanx unit engaged looked worlds out of place.
But on the right, things were not going as well as hoped. The entire Ariminium garrison had come bursting out of the woods, buoyed by support from Servius himself as well as Appius Ignatius’ escort. Augustus Porcius had no choice but to retire. Decius’ Gauls were coming up, but Publius Laevinius’ 60 Praetorians were not moving. This was bad. If they didn’t have those Praetorians and Servius attacked…
“You there! Numidian!” One Numidian javelinman looked up at Augustus.
“Have you got a good horse?” The man nodded. “Make for those Praetoria in the rear. Tell them that Servius is threatening to overturn the flank, assistance requested. Don’t stop pressuring him until he moves. Got it? GO!” The Numidian took off, leaving Augustus in a far larger state of worry than his commander.
…
Marcellus studied the situation. So far, all was pretty much going well, except for the situation on the right. But Publius would soon be up. He saw a rider going from Augustus to Publius’ Praetorians and now it looked like the man was conversing wildly with the elder general.
On the left, the result was unclear. The two Roman legions had fought each other to a standstill. Luca’s Italians looked to turn the tide, but a group of Servius’ Iberian mercenaries had come from nowhere and were now making progress against the Italians. In addition, a unit of Consular cavalry had come from the west and was threatening his missile units, but he had enough troops to bog them down long enough to charge in and hack them down himself.
In the middle, the Italians and Afrikan mercenaries were doing a fine job, but eventually Servius’ numbers showed and his men began to be flanked. Being attacked on two sides and about to break, the Italians were aided by Marcellus’ Second Senate Legion – the reserves. They charged in, counterflanking and routing Servius’ men after they put up a short but fierce resistance. The middle battle had been decided, with a huge hole in the center of Servius’ line and only ¾ of a victorious Second Senate Legion standing.
But on the right…
Augustus Porcius couldn’t believe it. This was not the way things were supposed to happen. A large body of Consular forces had charged, threatening to swarm around his men and destroy them all. Publius was nowhere in sight. He had seen the Numidian man reach Publius and talk with him with his own eyes, but apparently it was to little effect. The Gauls would not help much.
Another Praetorian looked at him. “Sir? Your orders?”
Augustus sighed. The Consular forces were getting dangerously close. “Damn it all. I’m going to kill Laevinius if we survive this. Charge! Break through those Italians and try to bring down Servius!” The horn blew, and soon some 150 horsemen, less Publius’ 60 Praetorians, were charging at the men bearing down on them.
The impact was horrendous. The sound of iron upon iron, men getting trampled, and horses screaming would have been too much for a normal man, but these were all battle-hardened veterans and knew their duty. So the terrible destruction continued. Within minutes every soldier’s uniform was stained with red from the blood of men and horses.
For a minute it looked like they were going to break through. The equites had been inflicting grievous damage on a unit of Italian Swordsmen, and only their commander was keeping them from breaking. Thinking quickly, Augustus turned and hacked the man down, bringing the weight of his depleted escort down on the already-beleaguered Italians. That was enough for them. They turned and fled, leaving… precious daylight. Augustus roared in triumph. They had done it.
But that daylight evaporated in an instant. Instead, Augustus’ men were now facing what seemed to be a mirror image. But there were two differences. First of all, these men were more numerous. And secondly, their uniforms were sparkling in the sunlight.
Servius had committed his own escort and Appius’ to stop this desperate charge.
Instantly, several other men that were breaking rallied around their Consul. Servius barked an order, and they swarmed in against what was left of the Senate cavalry. The effect was devastating.
“Come on, men! Charge! Bring him down! Bring him down! Rally to me! Forward, men!”
The remnants of the Senate cavalry pushed forward, desperately trying to break through once again. But this time there were simply too many enemies. Augustus watched as his brave men dropped. His dreams were slipping away. There would be no Consulship, no triumph. He would never see his wife, Julia, again. His world was ending.
He felt a sharp pain in his gut and tumbled off his horse, staring at the sky, blood seeping out of his stomach. Marcellus would recognize his corpse as just another body in the Senate in his dream. Augustus stared up at the burning sun as he passed.
The sun was blotted out, as the man who had killed him looked down. He stared into the face of Servius Aemilius, who gave him the briefest look of pity before moving on.
His last thoughts before his life trickled out were “Damn you, Laevinius.”
…
From a distance, Publius Laevinius witnessed the massacre that was taking place on the right. With his were his escort and Vibius Domna, who, along with the Numidian, had attempted to make him go forward for the past hour.
“You see, young Domna, this is why I chose to ignore all of you juniors when you pressured me to move in. We would have been along with them and died along with them. I may be old, son, but I am not stupid. Of course that attack would have failed. I have just saved all of our lives.”
Vibius Domna nodded. This Laevinius guy wasn’t that big of a disgrace after all. He would follow his orders without question from now on. Meanwhile, the Numidian rider that Augustus Porcius had sent to deliver the message looked on in frustration and despair. Those men would have made the difference and he was probably the only one that knew it. The battle would now drag on unnecessarily, costing many more lives.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Early Evening
Marcellus Aemilius had no time to visit the body of his tribune. His escort had just destroyed the Consular equites and now he was redirecting the Second Senate Legion, who had just finished off the Ariminium garrison (along with Decius’ Gauls and –finally- Publius’ Praetorians) to face the west.
Servius’ famous army, as well as Ariminium’s garrison, had been destroyed. Only the two enemy escorts had survived, and they escaped through the woods. However, it had nearly taken Marcellus’ army with it. All of his forces, including Luca’s Italians, had either perished or routed. Only his own escort and the Second Senate Legion were left standing, but Decius’ forces were now up. They had taken light casualties so far, but were of inferior quality.
Marcellus read Servius’ response to his surrender request one more time
and crumpled it up. Servius had escaped and linked up with Quintus Naevius’ elite army, which was heading straight for him and Decius. There was more fighting to be done. And this would not be easy.I cannot flee from fate Marcellus, or the ghosts of what could have been would haunt me forever.
Promise me, when this day is over, Eutropia will be well cared for.
Servius
Maybe I should threaten him with her, he thought, and shook it off. He couldn’t do that. He was still a true Roman, and he would see this fight through. If Servius wanted to see his last army still loyal to him (he received word that Oppius had been ambushed in Sardinia, further inciting his hatred for his nephew) go down fighting, then they would go down fighting. But Servius wouldn’t live to see it.
Marcellus marshaled the Second Senate Legion and pointed at Quintus’ army, which was forming into a defensive semicircle and would soon be attacked on all sides. The men that were left listened to him eagerly. Finally, they would hear a speech.
“Okay men, this is it. This is the time that we right every wrong that has been done in the past year by that man over there! His last army is trapped, and we are going to be the hammer blow that destroys him forever.
”We're going to make an all-out push on the right flank. We are not alone in this. Decius' auxiliary Praetoria and his Gauls will be aiding us in this. We're going to overrun his flank and then turn and smash his center. Do not stop until the last man is either dead or waving the white flag! FOR THE REPUBLIC... CHARGE!!!”
The men cheered and charged in, but something was wrong. Marcellus buried his head in his hands when he saw what it was.
Publius Laevinius had refused orders again.
Servius had fallen back, and the flanking push was ineffective, as they only faced light troops. Marcellus called off the attack and led his men into the woods for the night. The day had been something of a success, but the original objective –win the war by nightfall- had not been met. Tomorrow would be it, for sure. It would be a fight to the death for Quintus Naevius’ army. They had no way out.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Night
The three generals met in Decius Laevinius’ tent. The mood was tense. All present felt that this meeting should have been a celebration, and not a strategy discussion. In any case, there was little to discuss. Decius gave his father Publius a good dressing-down and threatened his unit with decimation if he did not obey orders.
Luca proposed the idea of a unified assault at dawn. The other two acknowledged the idea’s merit, knowing that it was the only way to win. The number of generals present was less than half than that of the previous night. Publius Laevinius was dismissed from the meeting early, Augustus Porcius was dead, and Vibius Domna was not even invited. Kaeso Coruncanius, much to his protest, had been assigned to oversee the Consular prisoners captured.
The men left the tent talking of enjoying the next night in the comforts of Roma, drinking the drink of the victorious (Marcellus, a noted teetotaler, was even considering joining in, saying to himself that he would need it after this).
No chances, he thought to himself. We go in together, and crush Servius through sheer numbers. Gods, I hope that he is captured. He deserves to die a thousand deaths for what he did to Oppius alone. I no longer hold any empathy for him. Thank Fortuna that Oppius survived and that he’s out of the war, but Servius needs to stand trial and face the consequences.
When returning to his headquarters, Marcellus was also informed that his spies had intercepted a message from Servius bound for Oppius. Marcellus read it over and smirked.
Well, if all else fails this could be useful.
He slept, knowing that the day ahead could potentially be even bloodier than the one that had just ended.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dawn
“Come on, men! Faster! Keep pushing!”
It was the start of what could be the last day of the war. The Second Senate Legion, backed by Decius’ Gauls and (possibly) Publius’ Praetorians, were crashing through the woods, aiming to come out and crack the Consular semicircle, hopefully destroying Servius himself.
“Move! Just a little further!”
The men could see daylight up ahead. Finally, they would be out of these woods. Finally, they would collapse on Servius’ semicircle, after being delayed in the previous evening. The soldiers closest to the action reached the edge of the woods, they burst into the open fields…
The first thing that they noticed was the smell. Having been in the woods for about twelve hours, they had been relatively immune to the after-battle reek that was permeating through the fields, as the trees blocked most of it. But now, the stench was so overpowering that many of the soldiers stopped in their tracks, doubled over.
This bought enough time for Servius to detach three units of hastati to fight off the Senate advance in the north. Marcellus, annoyed to the point where he was immune to the smell, frantically ordered his soldiers to push forward.
“Come on, men! They smell it too! Three hastati here means they’re not somewhere else! Keep pushing! Once we’re through these it’s victory!”
The remainder of Marcellus’ forces obeyed his orders, although for different reasons. The Second Legion desperately wanted everything to be over, and reluctantly started to surround their fellow Romans. Meanwhile, the Gauls were caught up in the fighting, and were howling in a battle frenzy. Marcellus was screaming at them to push forward and searching for any sign of Servius. The thoughts of Publius Laevinius, half a mile away and disobeying orders once again, were out of his mind. It was now completely taken over by his obsession of defeating his nephew forever.
All signs of organization were nonexistent. The battle had devolved into a brutal melee. Quintus’ army was being pressed on all sides. Marcellus could vaguely make out a cavalry engagement to the south. But none of that mattered. All that did was…
…kill…
Marcellus rode every which way on his horse, much to the aggravation of his escort. The man was shouting himself hoarse, yelling at soldiers that weren’t there. The rage had taken over.
As the Senate forces pushed on and the sun rose higher in the sky, more men continued to fall. Every soldier, inspired by either their general’s encouragement or hope that it would soon be over, operated with a ruthlessly cold manner. Mars demanded blood, and they would give it to him. And when they gave blood to him, they would find the nearest enemy soldier and offer him to the god of war, father to every Roman as well.
Marcellus continued screaming everywhere, in sharp contrast to Decius’ continued attempts at organization or Luca’s pulling himself together after barely surviving an engagement with Servius’ Praetorians.
“Forward, men! Keep up the fight! They’re almost broken! They’re almost broken! Just a little more, and you have won the day! Flank them! Crash through! Don’t let up! Don’t stop!”
One of Marcellus’ Praetorians leaped off his horse and tackled Marcellus to the ground. Marcellus snapped out of it and looked around. It was over. Quintus Naevius had surrendered.
Marcellus, quickly meeting with Decius and Luca, looked over at where Quintus and Appius Ignatius stood and looked over at his allies quizzically.
“Quintus surrendered? Did we bring down Servius?”
At this, Quintus spoke. “I did. He insisted on fighting to the death. I had to do something to save my men, so I killed him. His body lies over there.” He pointed to a fallen man that wore the Consul’s helmet but was most definitely not the Consul.
“He was a proxy for Servius. I have not seen Servius since several days ago. This man has been giving orders to us for the Consul’s safety.”
The Senate generals, but especially Marcellus, were disgusted. Servius had escaped, and they had no cavalry to pursue him. The hunt would begin immediately, but for all purposes, the Battle for Rome and the war was over.
Thousands of bodies littered the fields of Latium. The terrible casualties taken at Ancyra less than a year ago looked like a skirmish compared to this massacre. The fields of Northern Latium, especially to the east where the first terrible engagement had taken place, had turned a dark red. The civil war had ended with a decisive Senate victory, but not a completely crushing one. Servius was still at large.
That night, back in Roma when the three Senate generals (including Marcellus) shared drinks to celebrate, there was a hollow feeling in all of them. They had won the greatest battle since the time of Alexander, but the experience had changed them forever. Each general, as well as each soldier, would be infinitely hardened by the experience.
But they had won.
Originally Posted by TosaInu
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