Rivals in Blood Read online

  ‘Well done Salvius’ the instructor shouted.

  ‘The next time it will be from the right hand side or onto a moving animal, but well done. Get down.’

  Begrudgingly feeling that in some way he had personally proved his worth towards the military effort he athletically cast his leg over the saddle horn and slid to the ground without trapping his chainmail or weapons. Naturally, and because of his past, he knew about horses but he didn’t know how to use them yet today he had been taught a small lesson in turning that knowledge into being a cavalryman. Having been abducted against his will to serve in this place far from home and to learn nothing more than what he already knew had frustrated him and he bore that resentment. There were many young men here of his age so why was he needed? Often spending idle time to think about it had cast a shadow over the distant memory of his wife Faustina, for she wouldn’t have been pleased although she fully knew that her husband had been destined for a military command in Britannia. Therefore in having to accept his praise he stalked back to his line but instead of watching the next man jump he turned his spiteful gaze towards the distant mountains and home. How long was this adventure going to last for confidence alone now wouldn’t be enough, he felt, to stop him from running?

  A commotion behind drew his attention and out of which cantered in the emperor Magnentius, seemingly not drunk, and to the excitable squeals of ranks of tethered horses. He was followed by his bodyguard. They all stopped short of the arena where an order was yelled out for the training to continue under supervision. Reluctantly the next man to go took up his place and failed to execute the task sufficiently well to impress which drew nothing but an iron silence from his audience whilst Magnentius sat implacably on his horse and stared at them. Salvius Castus could only return the glare with nothing further that he would wish to say whilst the instructor rushed out to beat the man with a stick for publically embarrassing him. The emperor spoke to the man next to him pointing at the ground and at which he dismounted. Walking across to the recruit he growled...

  ‘Like this!’ and snatched up the shield before running at the mock horse whereupon he easily leapt into the saddle. Grabbing a spear he repeated the task from the opposite side and again dismounted.

  ‘Learn to do it or you will die!’ he suggested and threw the weapons on the floor before returning to his own horse.

  More commotion was then to follow with the rapid arrival of a messenger at the emperor’s side causing his own animal to turn about. It was quickly settled with a tight rein whilst the two men spoke only briefly before the small group wheeled their horses about and galloped off to the sound of horns blaring out. More experienced men leapt into their saddles and raced to catch up, insignia in hand.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Salvius nervously.

  He was suddenly as scared as the rest of them and afraid at what might happen next. The experienced instructor however was less concerned and stood still while the unfolding events told their story. Once he had reassured himself as to the nature of the alarm he turned about and replied.

  ‘I would deduce that we are on the attack, Salvius. See, our army is moving out to meet the threat and not collapsing in on itself in defence. Now listen to me all of you’, and he went on to list what they were to do.

  Horses were to be saddled and made ready, soldiers were to dress themselves for battle and they were to try and eat a little food if they could whilst standing. They were to then arrange themselves in their cunei and wait for instructions as nobody knew where the enemy was or where the fighting was taking place but it would serve as good practice. Untrained as they were, they were still recruits in the army and therefore part of the defence of Magnentius’ empire. He couldn’t afford to lose them.

  Sitting on his horse and trying to remain alert for any sign of danger was tedious work. The flat plain before them hadn’t seen any commotion since the alarm was raised ages ago and Salvius became suspicious of it being nothing but a ruse; a way of instilling fear into the young and old together without harming them. It was a way of heightening their senses as to what war was about. Regardless, he tried to remain vigilant by not talking to the man alongside him but instead took an opportunity of shifting his weight in the saddle and stretching his legs out to delay the cramps that otherwise would have followed. His left hand ached holding the shield and he experimented with the most efficient way of gripping it in order to remain comfortable during these long periods of inactivity. Then with the weight of his iron helmet pressing down on the crown of his head, his chain mail compressing his neck muscles and his hips beginning to ache he was desperate to get off. With every passing cloud shadow that ran across the face of the sun the long day momentarily cooled and Salvius turned his face sidewards in an attempt to relish what little breeze caught him. Nobody brought out any water for them to drink and he, along with everybody else, was thirsty. Others less disciplined simply couldn’t take any more and fell from their mounts to the ground where they were ordered to pick themselves up before being helped to one side. He had considered falling off but resisted the temptation and licking his lips for moisture continued his vigilance of nothing. They had been on guard for what had remained of the morning and now well into the afternoon whilst the background sounds of a camp continued. Flapping pennants occasionally raised themselves to life, empty tents fluttered whilst metal smiths beat away loudly at iron weapons and messengers arrived unannounced. The silence of war was misleading and only broken eventually by the harsh call to dismount.

  This order followed a rider having brought fresh news for no sooner was he gone then they were allowed to ease out their formations and told to rest. Above the dreariness that had accompanied their vigil voices freely arose congratulating themselves on their steadfastness and ability to remain there despite every discomfort. To a man they suddenly felt the value and the involvement in the war that they didn’t know had already started.

  It was two days later and with the return of the hardened cavalry units, the truth came out. The alarm had been real and the element of speed necessary to catch out a small detachment of Constantius’ army trying to negotiate their way across the mountains. None of Magnenetius’ men had been lost in return for the destruction of a part of the enemy, for seeing them first the men in the fortlets had done their work well in relaying their positions. They had been easy to ambush not having the space to fan out and deploy their cavalry screen thus giving the impression of being naive. In blocking both ends of the valley, Magnentius personally witnessed an easily won victory as his men cut the besieged troops to pieces so that afterwards he could freely declare that Constantius was both unfit to rule as a military commander or an emperor. Salvius watched them return full of bragging, unaware that it was no more than five hundred men that had done the work in hand to hand fighting ably assisted by the archers who had taken the high ground with help from the auxiliaries. The horsemen had defiantly chased the stragglers away hacking at them as they fled until ordered to stop by their commanders. Still, they were now bloodied in combat and able to match the legions in deployment. Confidence around the camp was high as the inexperienced drew renewed courage from the experienced who no doubt would lead them through the passes themselves and onto meeting and defeating the eastern army in full. Victory, it was said, was now assured.

  Magnentius wasn’t seen in their camp again and neither did he personally issue comments upon the readiness of his less able troops. Instead, keen to follow up the initial success, he gave orders for his legions to push forward and spill into the valleys beyond where they were to seize a town as a base for further campaigning. Forewarned against being ambushed himself and marching into a trap, his cavalry were to scout the new territories ahead. That meant Salvius with his unit being told to break their camp and slowly climb over the foothills beyond the view of the fortlets.

  So with Aurora’s morning shafts of light creeping towards them they did as they had been ordered and set off. Initially it was satisfying work
. His horse swayed easily beneath him keen to keep up with the one ahead whilst all together as a group they made good speed and the changing ground concentrated their thoughts as their hands shuffled to and fro along the reins preventing their mounts from tripping. His round shield lay comfortably across his back ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice whilst he quietly practiced at arm’s length swinging his sword and making sure that it wouldn’t snag when needed. Sol’s shadows glided silently across the ground and the empire was at peace in the vast expanse of hillside before them. Below, and in view, marched the columns of the legions also striding out in good time without their baggage train as a hindrance.

  Then after a while even riding started to become hard work. Salvius and others longed to stop and eat but their request was denied. Horses required watering he moaned but to no avail; they had to keep going. Hour passed beyond hour and it very quickly became apparent that there was to be no quick victory. This province was larger than they could imagine and the enemy nowhere to be seen in the emptiness before them punctuated only by the shimmering roofs of farmhouse villas centred on their estates. Then as night drew them to its eventual stop they dismounted and slept the deepest sleep wrapped in their blankets on the ground whilst far below legionary campfires glowed yellow and flickered silently.

  Magnentius himself was at ease in the discomfort of campaigning, but not with them. The careful military planning was proving thorough and the initiative his. Constantius had lost their first encounter and his army had fled providing enormous encouragement for his men yet he was no fool, no inexperienced general despite large sections of his force having been untested. It was going to be a war of overwhelming numbers and the best troops sacrificed first in order to achieve that one decisive victory. The one he desired the most: The opportunity of gaining mastery across the Roman world and over all those living within it.

  At night he called his commanders together partially to boast about his prowess and to witness in their faces his own confidence in the eventual outcome of the war but also to see if they were going to weaken? Actus, one of Constantius’ generals, had been captured and this was the belittlement of watching the enemy kneel before him in submission before a laughing Magnentius ordered his decapitation. At the tumbling of the head came the bitter understanding amongst his elite that forthwith there would be no mercy offered and none would be received. They were going to sacrifice their lives in return for uncertainty. If captured or injured themselves, they were supporting him and there would be no sympathy given to their plight. They were officers; they knew the risks although Magnentius’ actions had found little praise. Some thought him delirious on power and without conscience.

  A week later the rampant army faced a major obstacle having marched without a siege train for speed. However good news had also been received that Constantius’ main force was bound up in a fortress to the east and following the recent setbacks he wasn’t yet going to commit himself to the field of battle. He had secured his supply lines and could delay for months if necessary when to choose the most opportune moment to attack Magnentius. There was little military bait with which to tempt him out for Actus must have been thought of as expendable and not to be avenged. The rebels had to sow fear elsewhere. The town of Siscia was chosen to be besieged and the inhabitants massacred and if that had no effect then Sirmium too would suffer the same fate but time was wasted in the clumsy attempt to get them to open their gates and supplies needlessly used up in keeping the army going. Magnentius, desperate to progress and in the throes of his personal destiny, careered around the edges extorting his men to scale the walls and burn the gates down. Shouting encouragement, the huge man led them forward as the terrified inhabitants fought their pathetic battles and at the inevitable end his army took stock of their meagre gains. Most of the rations had already been taken and any part of Constantius’ army long gone. The victory was an empty one for troops who had without reign, freely practiced their art of butchery on victims who couldn’t fight back. With the stench of cold death came the following stains of guilt for tough men yearned the emotion of having faced, and then fairly despatched, their rivals in war.

  Outside the walls of both towns Salvius waited nervously on his horse and wondered when he too would confront the fates, and again being discarded, would he survive? This could have been the chance at releasing the simmering frustration that he felt at having been kidnapped yet more anger arose at why Constantius wouldn’t concede defeat to the better general? The sooner the conflict was over, the better. In the meantime he was ordered to withdraw only then to follow the legions south weeks later along the banks of the meandering Fluvius Savus. Hidden marshes constantly blocked their way across the wide fertile plains as they sought the road towards Poetovio and Magnentius, desperate to cross, pushed them on towards defeating the emperor of the east until his advance was unexpectedly halted by the offer of an envoy.

  In his tent commanding the view of the river plain the armed, unrepentant soldier stood and waited impatiently for the enemy to arrive.

  ‘My loyal greetings to your imperial majesty’ spoke the manicured voice of Flavius Phillipus as he was ushered in and proven to be from the court of Constantius himself.

  ‘You owe no loyalty to me?’ instantly replied an excited Magnentius resenting his enemy.

  ‘I am expecting you to be loyal to your own master whose defeat will be soon enough.’

  ‘I am not here to give credit to defeat my Lord.’

  ‘Then quickly state your case or else suffer as Actus did!’

  ‘Actus?’ He enquired.

  ‘What has become of him?’

  Stalling for a little time to further poison the conversation, Phillipus easily recognised the answer he sought in the guilty faces of the generals. Magnentius was too frustrated by his own provision of information and lack of diplomacy so retorted in the manner he knew best with a threat.

  ‘My legions are poised again to strike you. My borders are secure in the rear and I have reserves enough despite that traitor Vetranio crying to your cause.’

  ‘Vetranio?’ slowly replied Phillipus and repeating Magnentius’ accusation.

  ‘Vetranio recognised that his claim to wear the purple was false and that my master’s own destiny was true. Constantius is the one faithful emperor of the east whilst Vetranio was rewarded well for his acknowledgement of that fact as you may be.’

  There was the trap.

  ‘Now speak your terms Phillipus as my patience is fading!’ demanded the rebel.

  ‘What are you here to offer me?’

  ‘I am here to speak with your legions, imperator, and then you will hear Constantius’ offer. Not until.’

  Magnentius laughed louder than anybody else there could. He was taller, his chest broader and his sense of the ridiculous more acute.

  ‘You take me for a common soldier?’ he implied, struggling with not wanting to instantly draw his sword to strike him down at the insult.

  ‘How would you address my troops who are already victorious and in a manner that won’t delay the inevitable? You mock me standing there and why wouldn’t I seize you for your impunity?’

  Yet it was too late. Berating himself Magnentius had given the envoy the simplest of opportunities in achieving his master’s wish. Militarily he was strong; diplomatically and without his brother’s support, he was weak.

  ‘Tomorrow then’ he reluctantly and embarrassingly conceded at the dismay of his generals.

  ‘Tomorrow they can hear your lies but I will be listening and waiting for your offer. If you refuse then you will die as Actus did! I have given you my warning.’

  With that said he ordered him out and gave the responsibility of the watchful guard for the night to Claudius Silvanus, his trusted master of cavalry.

  The following day dawned with hope and expectation that there could be peace. With a relaxed stance the legions massed before another tribunal, another appeal to them from the protagonists in this war. Many looked
forward to a treaty being agreed and then returning to their homes uninjured whether in Gallia, Hispannia, Germania or Britannia. From there they could maintain their vigilant guard over the barbarian hordes always wanting to invade whilst their comrades in the east would watch over their territories. Together and in unison they would be the one empire. It was with this expectation that Phillipus walked forward to address.

  ‘Brave soldiers of the West, you have achieved much in the pursuit of domination but do not forget who you are fighting against. The armies of the East have proven their loyalty in Constantine’s struggles to unite all peoples and now his own son appeals to them in the same way. Constantius has the legal right to wear the purple whilst Magnentius wears it falsely.’