The Eagle Falls

[Lady_Mornington]

Flavia Procopia Aurelia Aquilina

True to her husband's promise, Cornelia Nerva did show up an hour or two after Flavia had been to see Marcus. The tribune's wife being her usual loveable self, and although Flavia was less than inclined to play hostess to her and her oldest daughter, duty and decorum dictated that she did so. One thing had still to be made clear and that was that no word of King Clodio's death were to reach Fredegund. It was not the time nor the place to break the news to the Germanii Princess.

While trying her best to respond to Cornelia's attempts at making conversation, part of her mind was occupied with the haughty promises she had made to Legate Scudilio regarding the welfare of her guest. In Flavia's mind Fredegund had transcended the position of hostage, and even though her father and his subordinates may view her as such, Flavia had come to regard her with great affection.

If not love.

"I'm sorry Cornelia I wasn't really paying attention." Flavia smiled apologetically as she patted Livia's head absentmindedly.

"Oh don't you worry my dear. I'm sure that Dux Marcus will be up and about in no time. Although I am so sorry and outraged about the way your brother has behaved. How did Dux Marcus respond?"

Cornelia looked intently at Flavia as she put the cup of honey water down. "I mean what depths can a man sink to?"

Flavia shrugged, not really wanting to discuss the matter of Secundus but knowing that everyone expected her to react in outrage. Not that she didn't feel that way. It was just that she'd rather not discuss the man at all.

"To be honest my dearest Cornelia I have no brother. Secundus have severed the ties with his family and between the two of us I am immensely happy that he has. I just hope that the legati do what is necessary, namely to hunt him down and crucify him."

Flavia kept her features impassive as she watched Cornelia nod her agreement.

"And should, and Christ forbid that it happens, Secunds stand victorious I will rather slit my wrists and die an honourable death than suffer to be at his mercy." The last sentence delivered without the merest trace of emotion.

Cornelia raised her eyebrows and reached for Flavia's hands "You are truely brave my dear Flavia, and a credit to your father..."

She was interrupted as the captain of the guard stepped inside, helmet carried beneath his arm. "My Lady Flavia. Dux Marcus has regained conciousness and requests your company."

"Thank God!" Flavia had to bite her tongue not to invoke the pagan deities. Not that she thought that Cornelia would have an opinion. For all intents and purposes the tribune's wife seemed blissfully devoid of any predjudice, religious or other. Standing up and nodding apologetically to Cornelia. "I'm sorry to rush of like this but..." Unable to form the words and thankful for Cornelia's response. "Nonsense dear you run along now"

Flavia was escorted by the Captain Veronius to the infirmary. The gristled old veteran had been the one giving her the affectionate agnomen Aquilina, which had spread about the legion. "The Eagles re-united again." He smiled as he escorted her inside.

Marcus was still on his couch, propped up with a few pillows and heavily wrapped in blankets. He looked weak but there was the unmistakable gleam in his eys, and even a faint smile as she walked inside. Flavia turned sharply to the orderlies and the legates alike ordering them out before she kneeled by his bed.

"Tata I was so worried." Leaning closer and pressing her lips to his.

 

[magbeam]

Marcus Procopius Elafius Aquila

"No, no, no!" Hypatius was practically screaming, tearing at the remaining wisps of hair that cluttered his shiny head. "General, please, you must not stress yourself in this manner!" The physician was even now attempting to change the already-soiled bandages that he had just set. However, thankfully the blood was flowing slower now, more watery than deep crimson. It had worried the others, thinking their general was almost empty of blood, but the Greek physician had seen it as a good sign - one of the only ones. A good sign that even now was at risk of being ruined by more rash actions from a man who seemed so collected and rational in everything else.

"Tell me, Hypatius, would you rather I be killed by my own son or by greasy barbarians?" Marcus asked, his voice weak but steady. The physician was quiet, not liking the point.

"Nevertheless, General, what good will it do if you expire before then?" he pressed on.

"At least then I will have imparted final instructions," Marcus said, unconcerned. "Let us now put this behind us." His voice gave no hint of leeway in the matter as he turned to face his legates and a number of his tribunes.

"Much as I would wish to do so, I do not believe that I am capable of making an appearance in the thick of fighting." Hypatius gave a sigh of relief, as did some of the other officers, going out of their way to assure their dux that he need not make any excuses. Their talking paused as he held up his hand.

"That does not mean I will lounge around like some courtier of the Eastern City, however. They cannot be ignorant of my injuries. For me not to appear would be to make them think that I am dead. This may be a useful tool to employ, to stoke their overconfidence. At the appropriate moment I will have to show myself on whatever camp parapet is closest to the fighting. Perhaps the sudden distraction will give us a decisive advantage. For a few moments only perhaps but I need not tell you who have fought at my side for so long how important even a few moments can be." The other officers returned his smile of affection.

"Now, if I am to expire before-"

"Perish the thought, Sir," one of the tribunes said.

"That is well and good of you to say, Pinarius, but time is short, I have much to say, and I am even less inclined to tolerate interruption than when I was of good health." His soft words took out some of the sting, but nevertheless, he had little time for idle pleasantries now. "If I am to expire before then, your goal will change. You must keep up the fiction that I am still alive, only unable to come out of my tent. Make sure all orders are ostensibly given by myself, and shouted loud enough for the enemy to hear. You've all fought under my tutelage long enough for you to convincingly imitate me, I hope." He smiled again, but was this time interrupted by a coughing wrack that took over his body, blood coming out with phlegm.

"Away, away!" Hypatius hurried over, snapping at his personal slaves to bring him clean bandages. As he worked at replacing the bloodstained ones as Marcus's coughing fit subsided as he was propped up and given warm wine to drink, a sentry announced that his daughter was approaching. Marcus browbeat the doctor at the news.

"Faster," he urged. "Do not let her see me like this. No one is to mention this fit." Thankfully, the changing was done in time, and the officers, and even Hypatius, slinked away to give the couple a modicum of privacy, even before Flavia ordered them out in a show of still-unbroken spirit that made Marcus smile more than anything.

"Oh, my little dove," Marcus said with a smile, holding her upper torso against him, as tightly as possible as her lips met his. When they pulled away, he saw her look - it was all well enough to clean up the blood, but this he hadn't been able to foresee. He smiled reassuringly, running his hand through her hair.

"I promise you, Flavia, you need worry no longer. I will not leave you in this manner. I love you so much, my brave little eaglet." Smiling, he took her in closer for another kiss, pulling away when a pain shot through his upper abdomen.

"Ugh...It's nothing. Let me worry about it," he said, waving away her concern, changing the subject. "The men told me about how you hassled the legati over Fredegund, even cajoled poor Nerva to speak for you." He smiled sadly. "The time may come when I will be forced to follow up my duty. Nevertheless, until then, I promise that no harm will come to your friend. I know that you two have become close since she arrived. I know how hard it is to lose those that you love. I know it all too well," he said bitterly, before smiling again as he stroked her cheek. "I would spare you that pain to the best of my abilities."

His face grew serious. "We must now turn to the matter of your own safety." He eyes her, critically and proud. "Your brother is marching his army here to meet me in combat. The Germani may also be crossing. This camp will very soon be no place for you to be, my...my love. Nerva will see to it that you are taken to Treverorum with a detachment, and arrange for you to go from there to Italia, or perhaps Africa. If this is a total calamity, those provinces will likely be the safest until a counter-offensive can be made. It may be that you could make it to Hispania to be with your sister and my grandchildren. I would have liked to meet them, some day. Perhaps you could do so in my stead."

He smiled, again sadly, proud of her spirit as she objected. "If you love me as much as I know you do, Flavia, then please. Do not object to me on this one issue. It may be that our actions on this day will spell the fate of the Empire. I...cannot bear for it to also have your life hang in the balance. Now please. The longer you wait, the longer it will be for your escort to return." He could not afford to lose even that small a number of men, and for any other person Marcus would not have. But his daughter was not other people. Flavia was still the one person who could force him to overcome the ultra pragmatism of command, at least to a degree. She was the only thing worth it.

"Now, Nerva will-"

At that moment, a red-faced Rufus came into the tent. "Sir! The scouts have reported sighting the traitor's army, coming from the direction of the main road! And...and ships on the river." He gulped at that, and Marcus cursed. So the Germani were coordinating their strike as he had feared, and Secundus had blocked off the path of retreat further into the province with his army.

"Give us a few more moments, Rufus," Marcus said tiredly. "I do not think that will make much of a difference at this stage."

Turning to Flavia, he looked at her sadly, regret and self-loathing in his eyes. Why had he allowed her to join him here? Why had he been so selfish to succumb to his loneliness and her pleading to join him? This was a war zone. He had utterly failed his parental duty by letting her come anywhere near here.

But then he saw the look in her eyes, and all doubts were washed away.

"It looks as if you get your wish after all, my love," he said. "Whatever happens, I hope that you will forgive me for bringing you into this." Then, softer:

"Whatever happens, it was worth it to know our love, my dear."

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Flavia Procopia Aurelia Aquilina

Flavia felt a pang of fear as she heard Marcus utter the last sentences. He had never before expressed anything resembling this current state. In a small way it felt as though the world crumbled. He was the Eagle, the legendary Marcus Procopius Elafius Aquina. He had seen more battles than most of the other generals in Imperial service put together and he had yet to be beaten.

For a treacherous second Flavia felt like crying, but she quickly steeled herself and even forced a smile to her face.

"Don't be ridiculous Tata, you will show the treacherous Germans who they are dealing with, not to mention.." Flavia's face contorted into a grimace, the very thought of her brother making her shrudder "my brother."

She gave Marcus' hand another squeeze as the legates entered again, Scudilio looking less than pleased with seeing her by the general's bed. Still in deference to his superior officer he kept his emotions in check. "General, I must really insist that Lady Flavia leaves us for the time being." Scudilio gave Flavia an apologetic look that didn't quite manage to conceal the irritation that he most certainly felt for her. "The honour guard will remain with you milady and your guest." Scudilio couldn't have poured more sarcasm and hostility in the last word had he said 'child murderer'.

Flavia returned his glare, contemplating answering back in a snappy tone but settling for giving him a sweet smile. "Thank you legate Scudilio. I am most thankful for the no doubt great sacrifice it means having to cope with civilians during a battle." She leaned down and gave Marcus a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I shall see you afterwards then Tata:" It was a statement rather than a question.

As she walked past the tribune Nerva, who didn't look to pleased at all, she couldn't resist taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "It would be a great pleasure to have Cornelia and your children staying with us for the duration of the fracas." She offered the tribune another smile as he nodded his assent to the suggestion.

Leaving the infirmary but not before having managed to locate the Greek doctor. Telling him in no uncertain tones that she required to be given a lancet, and explaining to the the worried Greek that if the worst happened then she would rather die by her own hand than being put to the mercy of either Germanii raiders or Gods forbid, Secundus. It took some persuading but finally Flavia managed to get the doctor to hand her two of his lancets.

Yes rather die by her own hand. She daren't think what Secundus might do should he prevail. Given his recent history, Flavia would guess that he'd sell her into slavery in some Gods forsaken place just to put her in what he thought must be her 'proper' place.

She hurried back to her lodgings and was greeted by the men of the honour guard. The situation had been made clear to them and perhaps it was the reason to the way they talked to her. Still deferential but rather more personal than they had been earlier. One of the men even offering her a sword with the explanation that "The Eaglet would be as good a commander as the Eagle Proper". She declined politely and hurried back to her room where Fredegund was still fast asleep. Gods that girl would probably sleep through the entire battle. Flavia couldn't help but smile. There was something reassuring about the Princess' behaviour, and as she sat by her bed she could not resist the impulse to kiss her cheek.

"I promise you that should the worst happen I will be the one next to you."

She whispered the words before quietly sneaking out of the room. Left to her own and waiting for what was to happen.

 

[FazilKotuk]

Secundus Caesar

Now openly rebellious, Secundus had a plan...he would attack with speed, surprise, and ferocity, and then send for the Franks and Goths. It wouldn't take long to destroy his father's army between them...but what to do with Father and his underbred half-sister? Yes, Father would be shown some mercy, as a Roman nobleman....because any disgrace would reflect poorly on the new Caesar of Gaul. He would be allowed to fall on his own sword. After that.....Flavia would be held as a hostage to ensure that Honorius didn't try anything.

He would ignore Elafia and her family altogether.....

He only hoped that Laurentius and Somnus convinced the Emperor that this wasn't really treason, since Gaul was effectively lost in the first place. He was holding Gaul in trust, for Rome to regain when she was strong enough again. Yes, that was it....a good pretext, though not one that he would tell his Germanic confederates. To them and the Gauls he must appear the Great Liberator, the end of Imperial oppression, and indeed the oppression would end...Gaul and Britannia would together be the model for the Roman state of the future. No more religious persecution, no more inquisitors and secret agents framing innocent men for treason....no more stinking court eunuchs cutting the army off at the knees.

Yes, he would be what Tetricus had only dreamed of being....the true Liberator of Gaul....Caesar Secundus. That he chose not to adopt the title of Augustus was to be a signal to the Emperor that he still deemed Honorius his nominal lord in some way.

The important thing was that he would hold the power himself, with Philippa as Queen to his Caesar. Take that, Flavia....I deem her better bred than you!

Oh, he didn't have any personal thing against Aelia as a woman...except that she had held out for a marriage above her station. Philippa hadn't....she was truly grateful and surprised at the formalization of her union. Her patience, humility, and loyalty had been rewarded due to Secundus's need for a consort and his confidence in her. That and the appearance of comity between the detested Flavia and Fredegund, which tainted the Frankish princess. He could only guess that his sister had poisoned her mind against him already. That would make for a poor marriage.

So, by default, who would best serve as his royal wife than his loving and subservient concubine? One who had been loyal, trustworthy, and unwilling to condemn or judge him, unlike his family....That she was a Christian would reassure any of his subjects who feared life under a Mithraist Caesar....feared reprisals for the persecution of Mithraists under previous rulers. Besides, Mithras being a God only for men, his wife needed some religion of her own anyway.

He had already sent a formal missive through Somnus to the Emperor, explaining the situation and urging the Divine Augustus to regard him simply as a vassal of Ravenna, loyal if autonomous. Hence the lesser title. The treatment of Somnus would be the first signal of the Emperor's attitude. If Somnus was spared, then Honorius was favorably inclined.

If he was executed, however, then at least Secundus had some warning and could prepare for the inevitable civil war. And he fancied himself a much better general than the Emperor, at least.

Meanwhile, he rode toward the town, hoping that he would catch them by surprise and have what he wanted. And if he failed.....well, he would be dead very soon and have nothing to worry about.

Hopefully, the Germans would also aid him in the confused melee...

"Ride with me, cavalry of Gaul!" he shouted to his men, as they approached the town.

To which they replied, "Hail, Caesar!"....and rode with him, closing the distance to the town.

 

[magbeam]

Marcus Procopius Elafius Aquila

"Afterwards, then, young one." Marcus smiled as Flavia kissed him, growing wider despite the desperate - and he did not use that word lightly - straights they found themselves in as he saw her bold words with Scudilio, her kind words with young Nerva, the great bearing and dignity she maintained at all times and with all people. His heart felt that it would burst from swelling, an analogy Hypatius might not like but none more accurate existed. Flavia was his daughter through and through. His love. He once more blessed the Divine Hand Who had brought her back to him. His little bastard son's pet deacon might not like the thought of the Father sanctioning such things, but then what did he know of the love that was the supposed province of the Kingdom of Heaven? And a woman that Marcus could love more than Flavia did not and never would exist.

Especially since the world would be ending rather shortly.

"Dux Elafius." Scudilio's serious voice cut through Marcus's reverie. "The situation is serious. We are being enveloped in a pincer. It is our worst fear, Sir, is it not?"

"It is our worst fear, Legate Scudilio, our worst fear indeed." Marcus's voice was soft and without any emotion save confidence. "Yes it is for that reason that we have trained so hard for this very contingency. It may be that we will meet our Creator soon enough, but by the shades we will take ten times our number with us. Rufus."

"Yes, General?" The rust-haired man stepped forward.

"The docks cannot be defended if they are crossing en masse at night. You know what to do. Give the orders to the fleet and the garrison there." A large step, and one that could not be reversed; but it could not be helped and it was making the best of a nigh-impossible situation, and so Marcus did not give it any second thought. From this point on, if he brooded over ever option of least evil, the battle would not last the night.

Rufus saluted, turning to leave and supervise the commands, when Marcus called him back.

"Rufus? One more thing. The German hostage, Prince Fritigern...See to it that he is prepared to be, ah...reunited with his father and family. In the swiftest possible way."

The legate's face showed confusion, then, a slow, understanding, cruel smile crossed his face.

* * * * *

The great games of state and warfare are like any other game. Just as with draughts, a battle or an elevation could be over with in a few minutes. And just as with draughts, those who hurry through the game will often fail. Any confrontation between the great masters of game or warfare will be played out over time; and it is such prolonged campaigns that most shape the lives of those who lack the power to do anything more than watch from the bylines.

It was two more hours before the rebel army completed its encirclement of the frontier garrison, although that amount of time, Marcus thought contemptuously, was more due to his son's lack of any sort of military training and the qualityless 'soldiers' he had at his disposal rather than due to any other sort of stratagem or excuse. In that time, a messenger from the encampment at Sarsparium announced that they were also under attack from Germani crossing the river. From the garrison at Claudia, located closer to Dispargum and where the river was shallower, there was no message. Marcus publicly stated that all it meant was that they were unable to send a messenger for the same reason they were now unable to receive any. Privately, he worried.

The encirclement was not deep, of course; there were too few men at arms under Secundus, at least now, and for the present it only served to cut off messengers or supplies from reaching the well-fortified and defended Imperial garrison. If Marcus had had his entire army here, he could easily have punched through; but then, the Germani of course would be free to cross at any point along the undefended frontier they chose. Already it seemed that they were sending more men here; and while Germani had never before been able to successfully siege a defended city, more of them would make his job all the more difficult when dwindling supplies precipitated a breakout. And although Secundus appeared to have no artillery pieces or siege weapons at the moment, if the Germani did conceivably overwhelm the border garrisons or if he had any engineers, it was possible that that could soon change.

One more immediate effect of the Germani excursion across the sea was the loss of the dockyards, built just outside the natural and artificial defenses that had been constructed around the garrison. This had been expected, of course, and the soldiers there acted on the contingency. After making final preparations, they fought a contained withdrawal to the fortified rear gates of the camp, the Germani shortly behind them but unable to break through. Once the soldiers were safely inside, a wing of archers sent fire arrows into the no-longer needed river fleet - each ship of which had been soaked in tar and pitch, and spectacularly combusted, killing many Germani and providing illumination for archers and carroballistae to pick off others coming across the river. It had destroyed their ability to send a punitive raid to the German side of the river; but the fleet had never truly been large enough anyways, and now that was no longer possible regardless. And the fact that they forced the Germani raiders to land further south or north to avoid the Roman projectiles, thus providing at least an initial night of relief to one section of the garrison, was more than worth the tradeoff in Marcus's mind.

As an act of defiance, Marcus had four objects raised from the central observation tower outside the command tent, far enough for all of the encircling traitors to see. The chi-rho of the True Faith. The SPQR emblem of the Roman State. And finally, after some coercion of the two aquilifers, the mighty bronze eagles of the Twentieth and Second Legions, two of the last remaining eagles for two of the last remaining legions. A taunt to his enemies, of all that they had aimed themselves against and all who had had similar aims crumble to dust before them.

Marcus slept little that night; although the campaign went relatively quiet and his subordinates followed their commands precisely, he was in no mood to relax and possibly miss something that could change the course of the campaign. The mere fact that he was wounded certainly did not give him any special right for delinquency; he was still a Roman soldier in a field of war, was he not? Nevertheless, he dozed off just before dawn, Hypatius proclaiming it exhaustion brought on by a loss of the humors, and using the opportunity to change the dressing on the wound.

When Marcus awoke, angry because he had succumbed to a human weakness that he would find excusable in anyone else but him, it was to two primary pieces of news. The first was that Secundus had offered a deal of peace if they would but swear allegiance to him; by proxy, Marcus had the staff's best orator declaim in his thunderous voice to the rebel army just how pathetic the attempt and the man behind it was. The second piece of news was the standard of King Tudrus had been seen in the remains of the burned dockworks, even now clinging to whatever remnants of Rome he could scrabble together for the status, however meager, it would bring to him to his impoverished followers or as if it was some great victory to rub in to the forces of Marcus. Or perhaps, like a frightened dog, he was hiding in the best shelter he could find. To that, there could only be one reply.

"Let us give the king his son back," Marcus quietly ordered to Rufus.

Several minutes later, a ballista was loaded with a special cargo. Shortly later, the mangled corpse of Prince Fritigern tumbled back to earth outside his father's headquarters.

* * * * *

It was the next day before Marcus could spare the time to return to his home, carried on a litter most unceremoniously but on the orders of Hypatius and the request of everyone else, to see Flavia again. Pale, wrapped in heavy clothes and his injured arm still held stiff and immobile, he nevertheless insisted on walking in to his house when the litter was lowered down in front. Saluting the guards who still were assigned to Fredegund - a situation which would have to change once the actual fighting started - he greeted Flavia with a warm hug that was well worth the pain it caused his arm.

"I am sorry I have been unable to see you before now, my dear," he said as he sat down on the couch, longing to address her as his love as he motioned for her to sit next to him. "But affairs of service..." He sighed.

"So far they've been unable to scale walls or knock through gates, and we've been able to harass them with the artillery and archers. But if they get a large number of archers, or any siege equipment, the game will turn. And eventually we'll have to force a battle once we run low on supplies. They have the upper hand there. If only we had had just some forewarning, we could have gathered supplies and burned the rest in the countryside, denied them everything, forced them to be the ones to look over their backs..."

Marcus stopped talking, and smiled. "And now even I'm fretting like an old woman. I'm sorry. How have you been holding up, my dear? You and Fredegund?" His face drew serious at that. "I hope she hasn't taken too harshly to the fate of Fritigern. Or that any of the men haven't been treating her...unkindly?"

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Flavia Procopia Aurelia Aquilina

The hours seemed to pass at snails pace as Flavia did her best to uphold some kind of normality about her household. There had been rumours among the servants circulating and Flavia had made it a point of making sure that the despondency did not grow.

She couldn't claim to be versed in matters military but she understood that the position of the Roman army was under threat from two sides at once. On the one hand the large and undisciplined masses of the Germanii. Flavia refused blankly to consider them to be Fredegund's kinsmen anymore than they were her own. For all intents and purposes the Princess was a Roman and more to the point, her sister and more...

The other threat to the Roman position being that which her brother and his band of irregulars posed. Perhaps more skilled in modern warfare but still led by a half-wit. The mere thought of Secundus made Flavia's cheeks colour. Gods she hated her brother, and should it come to the worst she would take great pleasure in watching him watch her die. At least he would be denied that particular pleasure.

She found herself wondering what Philippa could possibly see in him. The man suffered from a bloated ego and he was probably notoriously unfaithful as well. Besides Secundus had not denied the fact that he was prone to bedding youths as well, and if Flavia had sussed him out, then he would be the submissive part in such a relation. When all was said and done her brother was a pitiful human being only worthy of scorn.

Excusing herself to Fredegund who for reasons obvious had chose to stay in their room. The poor girl was in a right state and who could blame her for it. Her father was dead and her people now stood pitted against those of her captors. For all their oaths of friendships and the numerous signs that the two had exchanged there still came a time when blood spoke louder than anything else.

Flavia had contemplated her own reaction had the situation been the opposite. Would she had stood by and watched as the Germanii stocially killed and was killed by her people? No probably not, although she wouldn't mind seeing Secundus killed of.

Gods how she hated him.

Well nothing would be served by getting bogged down in such sentiments right now. Hence Flavia made sure that the arrangements for supper was being taken care of. One never knew if Marcus would be in attendance and if he were then he would see that there were still aspects of normality even at times like this.

He showed up a few hours later, looking ragged but still displaying the same determination as usual. She greeted him with the same familiarity and allowed the embrace to go on for a fraction longer than she would usually do.

As Marcus recounted the situation Amiftre served him mulled wine. Flavia had noted that they were running low on the commodity and seeing as it may be the last time they would be sitting together it was better to drink it themselves than letting what little that was left be given to the marauding Germanii.

"If you force a battle then surely our army will be victorious? The Germanii wouldn't stand the onslaught of a disciplined force such as this would they?" Flavia sipped her wine as she reached across the table to take his hand in hers.

"And if nothing else perhaps you ought to contemplate doing what that horrible man.." She refrained from refering to Secundus as a relation "I mean get a message across to the Germanii that Secundus is only using them to wear down the defences of the Roman army proper so that he will be able to win a swift and bloodless victory over them when they had bled themselves to death laying siege to the camp. It's not honourable but we aren't exactly facing an honourable opponent are we Tata?"

She stood up as she finished her wine. "I'm sure you're tired and I think that if Legate Scudilio can be trusted to run the defenses for an hour then he can allow you to rest for half an hour as well." Smiling as she leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I shall make sure that there are braziers lit in your room.."

 

[FazilKotuk]

Caesar Secundus

While it took longer to surround the town than planned, Secundus could now be assured, as could his confederates, that the enemy was doomed. The fall of his father's army would begin the new age of a separate empire under his aegis, with the barbarians playing a key role in defending it rather than pillaging it. He would want their fealty, of course, but they could leave in peace and practice their way of life, including whatever religion they preferred.

Secundus knew that he was inexperienced at war, but this crash course in strategy had proven most fortunate for him. He didn't believe that he was the military dunderhead that his father insisted on believing him. After all, he had forged an alliance that would destroy his father. All of his life, he had taken the Dux's lectures about how poor he was as a soldier, and he had believed it. Not anymore......Why did his father assume that he was inept in the field of Mars, anyway? Because he wanted to, that was why. He couldn't stomach the idea that his son might prove his equal. It was jealousy, nothing less.

Besides, he had always been partial to Flavia, indifferent to Elafia, and hostile to Secundus. All because of his favorite, second, and less noble wife, Aelia. Maybe his father preferred a common wife. She was less threatening or something. It all came back to his father's resentment of any potential equals. His father demanded to always be superior in every way. It always came down to that, didn't it?

That was also why he insisted on being a prude with his son, when he clearly wasn't with most people. He had deliberately sided with his favored and priggish daughter, Flavia, on the issue of Secundus's then concubine and current bride. It wasn't like his father to be so insistent upon sexual chastity, so it must be something else.....a desire to excuse his own jealousy toward his son. Yes, that was it.

Not that it mattered. If Secundus had his way, his father would soon learn who was the better man. The battle was almost certain to lead to victory at this point. A surrounded and besieged enemy stood no chance. Secundus was sure of that much. And he would soon be master of Gaul.

 

[magbeam]

Marcus Procopius Elafius Aquila

Marcus gratefully accepted the cup of spiced wine from his daughter's woman. Truthfully he had not had much of an appetite since he had woken back in camp. No doubt part of that were the unguents and salves Hypatius had submitted him to, or the imbalance of humours, or even nerves, for Marcus was not too proud to admit to himself just how dire the situation truly was. However, the largest factor was his souring towards himself at not having foreseen this, tried to move against Secundus or the Germani earlier, somehow known better or more or quicker, no matter how impossible it was for a single mortal man, even a Roman, to be an omni-cognizant entity, aware of the thoughts and intentions of those around him. Sadly, such traits did not manifest themselves in real men.

Nevertheless, Marcus found himself drinking down the contents of the cup, not wanting to insult Flavia by refusing to partake of what was quickly becoming a scarce commodity. And to his surprise, it felt good. That probably meant that he was healing. In a way, Marcus viewed it more as a waste than anything else. After all, it seemed rather likely that that state of affairs would not continue much longer. Even if he did, by some grace of God, manage to defeat his son and recover both, the Emperor and his inner circle would likely seek someone to pin this whole fiasco on. Perhaps Constantinus would manage to pull his influence again. Perhaps the Master of Soldiers or the Prefect of Gaul would arrive tomorrow with the field army and stamp these provincials and barbarians down. Or perhaps Marcus had finally lost his race against Fate.

He put the cup down, with Flavia taking the now-free hand of his uninjured and whole arm, and Marcus smiled. No, it was much better in his mind to attribute his reawakened hunger to the presence of his daughter. Listening to her words, he smiled sadly. The fact that she was a woman speaking of warfare only amused him somewhat. After all, was she not his only true child? Was she not the Eaglet of the Army of the Rhine?

"The barbarians that Marius and Caesar and Germanicus, even Marcus Aurelius, fought were no match for our legionaries. Now, however, we have spent the past century training them, paying them to fight for us, unifying them with the True Word. We have made the agent of our own demise. True, our soldiers are experienced. But they are also tired, and no longer have the advantage of weaponry and armor they once did. Every minute more of them will arrive on the shore. Soon, if not already, numbers as well will be against us..."

Marcus was silent, staring into his cup, before squeezing Flavia's hand, reassuringly, though for whom he did not know.

"I think at this stage the Germani are beyond negotiating with, my little one. They have, in their minds, been forced to stay behind as their brethren crossed the frontier into lands of wealth and warmth that, truly, only exist in their dreams. They have been humiliated and driven back by Romans, not just recently but for the past five centuries. They hate us, and now they smell our blood in the air, and want their share. No god can stop a hungry man. And more immediately, I did kill one of their kings, the son of another, and hold the daughter of one. And I cannot match the gold that Secundus has offered them. It will likely be that soon they will realize that even he cannot give what he offered, or he will ask something of them that they do not want, or he will just be his usual self and they will have the same reaction to him as we."

Marcus offered a genuine smile then, one that lit up his face and showed his teeth for a second. "Knowing Secundus, that day will happen upon him before he knows it. We can draw satisfaction from that, at least, although I wonder if even that will be better for the Empire." His smile faded at the thought, and as he followed Flavia into his room, the door closing behind him, he sat on his bed as she lit braziers, and ruminated.

"This...this was not how I imagined it ending," he could not help himself from saying. If he did not speak his mind, alone save for the one person he trusted, loved, and was closest to above all others, to whom could he say this? "Whether we win or lose in the upcoming battle, whether in a year or a century, the Empire is finished. It's crumbling around us. In my grandfather's day, even, this was safe and prosperous Roman territory, with ten legions along the river. Now look. I should have...I don't know. Should have forced Constantius to have sent longer-range field pieces so we could at least pick them off on the shore. Should have given more gold to Clodio. Should have, should have, should have..."

He slumped into himself as Flavia sat down next to him, her arms around him, head on his shoulder.

"I will force a battle tomorrow," he finally spoke up. "They won't expect it so soon, our soldiers won't be starving yet, and hopefully not all of their warriors will have arrived. I should have done so today. I was...slow. I'm not sure I like being old."

He turned his head to kiss Flavia's cheek, smiling once more. "Hypatius told me about the lancets. I...I do not wish to think of you carrying through with the idea, any more than I like to think of you dying in combat or suffering through...Well, the fates worse than death that befall women after battles. Nevertheless, you make me proud, Flavia. Very, very proud to know how brave you are, my child."

His kiss to her cheek became a kiss to her lips, and as he pulled away, Marcus still needed to ask: "Will you...that is, will you stay with me, here, now?"

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Flavia Procopia Aurelia Aquilina

Flavia had stayed quiet throughout most of the exchange, partly because of the tone her father had taken but also due to the demeanour that Marcus was displaying.

For most of her life Flavia had come to view Marcus, Tata, as the unbending rock on which the tides of change broke and dissolved into nothingness. It had been reassuring and the notion that whatever may befall the Empire or the lives of its citizens, Tata would remain the same.

Now however he showed signs of being at his wits ends and it was disconsoling to say the least. Then again, the way he asked her to stay with her showed a different side to him, one that Flavia could only assume he had only showed Serena and her mother. She smiled softly as his lips found hers and gently disentangled herself from his grip.

"Of course I will stay, Gods know that there is no other place I'd rather be right now."

She held his gaze as she pulled the pins from her shoulders, letting the palla fall to the floor and revealing her nakedness to his eyes. Proceeding to kneel down before him and gently running her hands along his sides, as she unclasped the cuirass from his chest and then continued to help him rid himself of the tunic and the other garments.

Flavia would never cease to marvel at the difference of their bodies, she had done so as a child when she had seen the scars that her father carried, and she continued to do so now. His skin was almost leathery to the touch, the sunburn heavy and the creases and wrinkles making their marks on it. In comparison her own was like silk. No blemishes to disfigure it, no scars to mar the surface.

Perhaps life was unfair, or rather that the Gods chose different tasks for each and every one of them. Tata had paid the price with blood and sweat and probably tears to make sure that she would be able to retain her own unsullied appearance. Thus each and every scar of his was a gift and she slowly bent closer to press her lips to the scar on his shoulder.

"Let us pretend" She intoned softly as her lips made their way from his shoulder to his chest, kissing the numerous scars that adorned his torso "that tonight we are Jupiter and Venus." Flavia's lips touching his skin as she placed her hands on his thighs. "Or perhaps it would be better to assume that we are Mars and Bellona?" She looked up at him, placing her fingers across his lips to silence his protestations. "I know that you are a Christian and that I should be one as well but I'd rather have Bellona watching over you than the Christ come tomorrow. Besides the Christ does not know the pleasures of the flesh like the old gods do, nor does he condone unnatural congress.."

Flavia smiled as she echoed the words of her brother. "We are Romans tata, furthermore we are patricians, we stand above petty moral convictions. Does not Father Mars Strider engage in congress with his daughter Bellona? Does not Father Jupiter share the bed of his daughter Venus?" She kissed him deeply as her hands centered around his manhood, gently fondling him until he grew hard.

"I am not sorry for anything but the fact that when we die you will go to the Christian Heaven and I will be left to roam the underworld." She kissed his chest again and gently pushed him back onto the couch. "Will you come for em then Tata? Will you do what Orpheus did for Eurudice?" Flavia panted as she felt herself grow more moist and gently straddling him.

"I shall wait for you and I take Pluto and Proserpina both as my witness that my shadow will not find happiness until you are there with me" With a barely muffled sigh she sank down on his hardness, biting her lip as she felt him enter her.

Tracing her fingers along his lips to keep him from replying as she ground her hips against his, willing him to let go of the stresses that plagued him. Her own body responding in kind to his movements and not before long she could feel herself tensing up as his hands grabbed her slender waist, pulling her closer to him and trembling as her own climax mirrored that of his.

 

[magbeam]

Marcus Procopius Elafius Aquila

Marcus reflexively closed his eyes as Flavia undressed him, her fingers and lips and tongue moving over every inch revealed, reveling in his scars and body and causing him to moan like a youth. It was amazing that she could play him this easily after only the few times they had coupled. Then again, perhaps it wasn't that startling. If she was anything, she was the daughter of her parents - and an amazing woman on her own. One whose equal Marcus very much doubted existed, or at least that he would have ever known even if he had lived another five decades.

It was that thought that caused Marcus to open his eyes, to look down and take in his daughter's form as she tended to him finer than any Athenian hetaera. No, he never would see another woman like her. It was best to take in as much of Flavia as he could before the end.

Marcus frowned at her words, tinged as they were with an unmistakable melancholy that seemed all to close to an air of finality. That, much more than her professions of Hellenic belief, caused him to frown, saddened. He opened his mouth to respond, but her fingers reached up to brush his lips, and Marcus closed them. He would not disobey his daughter's wishes, not now of all times, and not when he agreed - it would be a shame to mar what was likely to be their last enjoyment of each other with his apologies or lectures. Contenting himself with kissing the pad of her finger, silently listening to Flavia's words as he grew hard beneath her pleasurable - loving - touch.

There was only one thing he had to reply to. His conscience could not allow him to let her think otherwise. "I cannot believe a Lord of Love would subject us to such torment. But, if He does...I will always come for you, Flavia, both in this life or wherever we go beyond. You must know that by now, my sweet."

Marcus groaned, long and ragged as he felt her tight wetness surround and compress his manhood, content to let her fingers seal his lips, having said all that, in the end, ever needed to be said. He thrust into her own grinding hips, his hands winding up along her skin, grabbing hold, pulling her tight for the wondrous moment when he exploded deep within her.

Afterwards, they lay for a time together, the braziers providing flickering light and warmth to supplement that of their naked bodies pressed together. They said nothing, Marcus stroking her back and front slowly. They spent more time together than was perhaps advisable, true; but then again, it seemed doubtful that anyone at this point would care, for those few who would even notice. And soon enough one or both of them would be dead, and even if he lived it would just be another piece of evidence to support the condemnation the Emperor would hand out anyways.

And so Marcus allowed himself to lie with his daughter for a long, long time before rising, slowly dressing himself once more with her silent help. When at last he was done, he turned back, kissing her firmly, before offering his last words to her prior to leaving to plan the final battle:

"Remember what I said, my love. No matter what, we will be together again."

* * * * *

The officers had took to his plan with a brooding, accepting silence that would almost be ominous if Marcus had not had the comfort of knowing that his soldiers were smart and trusting enough, after years of serving under him, to be nearly appendages of his will. Brushing off Hypatius's concerns, Marcus announced his intentions to ride out with them. They all cared for their general, yet the soldier's code, the knowledge of the need to avenge both professional, honorable, and familial slights, prevented them from saying anything, not when one such as Secundus was still to be dealt with.

Within the hour, the army - on its toes still after such a short siege, and still eager to avenge their premature deaths, to tear apart the enemies that had caused them to be posted out in the ass-end of Empire and made their lives so miserable - had formed up. As the gate at the front of the encampment opened, the cavalry alae swarmed out, taking the front ranks of the Germani - drunk and hungry and sleeping and disorderly as always - by surprise, the ballistae letting out continuous rounds of iron and flame.

The infantry was next, with Marcus at their head. The Germani and Secundus's traitors were beginning to form up and offer a firmer resistance. As the gates closed behind the field army, preventing any enemy detachments from making a run for the vulnerable spot, Marcus took no head of that final act of commitment to the plan. He was too busy looking for a sign of his son.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Flavia Procopia Aurelia Aquilina

There had been precious little sleep for Flavia, the siege playing its part as well as the fears what might happen should her brother emerge victorious. Flavia was far from a pessimist, the might of her father's legion was reassuring enough, but his words of caution had still managed to unsettle her. Perhaps this would be the last stand for the Eagle, and what would come next?

Chaos. Utter chaos.

Flavia could, perhaps understand the rationale behind her brother's actions, at least had it been any other man than him rebelling against the crumbling order of the Empire. Then again, Secundus had no other real reason to do so than to bolster his own barren ambition. The whole silly idea of religious co-existence between Mithraists and Christians was just to stupid to seriously contemplate. Then again the more she had seen of Secundus the more she was leaning towards thinking him cursed by Apollo. There could be no other explanation. The man was as insane as they came and even though his wits had never been his most defining feature, he was still dangerous enough.

She found herself cursing his name as she went to wake up Fredegund. Maybe just maybe the Gods of the Underworld would listen to her, Gods know that the man deserved whatever punishment was coming his way.

Instructing Amfitre to help dress the Germanii Princess in her native clothes rather than the Roman garments that she had acquired, telling her that should the worst happen, then she was far more likely to survive should her countrymen recognise her as one of them. Fredegund nodded her assent, seeing that there was a fair point to the argument. There was a moment of awkward silence between the two, never before had the enemity between their differenet peoples been so palpable as it was now. Either the Germanii were victorious and that would mean the end to the world such as Flavia knew it, or the Eagle would, thus pushing the former federates back into the grey area of semi-serfdom.

On a personal level Flavia could very well understand the feelings of her friend and her people. She figured that if the situation had been the opposite, then she would be less likely to cheer King Clodio, or rather the late King Clodio, on. Then again, Rome and her empire was doomed, if Tata had declared so then it was only a matter of time before the Empire crumbled into dust and ashes, and with that the light and civilisation of the world.

It was not at all a reassuring thought, but Flavia was realistic enough to understand that the change would take place, and that the future belonged not to the people of Italy but would be borne by the kinsmen of the Germanii Princess. Perhaps...

"We're going for a walk"

Flavia declared her intentions even before the plan had hatched. It would be better if the adversary could see that there were more to the Romans than the rule of force. It may be an impossible gamble, but what else was there to do? Even if the Germanii and the Quadi were beaten back today, they would come back, and finally the Roman rule would be ended. Yes better then to do what was right.

Leading her friend through the camp until they reached the ramparts and scaling the same. There were a few irate looks from the soldiers manning them, but since no orders existed to drive her away from them, Flavia was left to roam them. She could see the battle, the Roman soldiers having pushed the Germanii and their allies back and were holding their ground. Yet the sheer numbers meant that every legionnaire had to kill at least two if not four Germanii warriors to balance the score.

On the fringe of the battle loomed the cavalry screens of both armies, the Germans driving closer but avoiding any confrontation with the Roman horse. It was bloody a spectacle but Flavia could still see the standard of her father's and it's presence bespoke that he was still in command. She leaned closer over the rampart, straining her eyes to make out details of the battle raging before her.

She never saw the arrow, just the sharp pain as the iron head of it drove into her body just below her collarbone.

 

[FazilKotuk]

Caesar Secundus

Typical of the rawest Germani that they fell back, but they were now stiffened by the combined resolve of Secundus and Clodio. The fact that a small, but disciplined and organized component of Roman cavalry was among them, with a self-appointed Caesar at the head, didn't hurt their morale. Especially given that some of the troops were also Vandals, and Secundus displayed a firm confidence in his own God, Mithras.

It took a while before he saw his father, but he didn't hesitate. He charged with his force toward them. He wouldn't run or flee....he would confront his father and let their combat decide the engagement, once and for all. Better that than surrender and execution, or even a more prosaic fall in battle. He would either conquer or perish.

"Marcus Aquila, I warn you to lay down your arms and surrender, or I shall have to put you to the sword! It is bad enough that you presume to condemn my chosen companions, but it is even worse that you take up arms against me, Caesar of Gaul and Britannia. Swear allegiance now, and win my clemency!" he thundered with disdain, deliberately excluding the paternal or public titles of his surviving parent.

 

[magbeam]

Marcus Procopius Elafius Aquila

"It's her, all right," Legionary Gaius Vibinius said as he hoisted the girl down into one of the medical tents. It was uncrowded at the moment; however, that spoke more to the efficiency of the Roman defenses against projectiles that the Germani largely lacked, and the fact that the main gates were still sealed against admittance of casualties from the infantry battle shaping up, than any lack of Roman casualties.

Of which there were already far, far too many.

"What are you...oh, Holy Iesu," Hypatius, the Greek medic, said as he walked over to investigate the unusual patient the two legionaries brought in. "The Dux's daughter." He ran his hands down the shaft, before jerking away, calling for his slaves.

"Is she...Do we..." Vibinius asked, not daring to say the words that Hypatius understood anyways.

"She is still alive...for the moment. And even if we could tell the Dux, you will not."

"What? But this is his daughter!" Vibinius, a new father, protested, his face red.

"Precisely," the physician said. "And if we are to have any hope of winning here, the Dux must have his full faculties about him. He cannot be distracted by worry or tempted to leave the front. I promise you that I will do what I can, but..."

He looked down at Flavia, patting her brow with a wet cloth one of his slaves handed to him. "But I'm afraid it seems that he will lose more than one child this day."

Flavia said something, and Hypatius leaned down to her ear as she repeated it again, then nodding, saying soothing words as he pulled away.

"What did she want?" Vibinius asked. Hypatius looked back at the legionary.

"Send for Tribune Nerva."

* * * * *

Marcus Procopius Elafius Aquila, Dux Germaniae, Commander of the Rhine Frontier, stared out across the order of battle at the individual who until recently had been his son. The army had been manuevering for some time now; the initial cavalry rush against Secundus's infantry had scattered them, and his alae had reformed for a second push, but then had broken up and scattered. It was better than nothing, for a tired and demoralized force, Marcus had thought with more than a touch of bitterness. After all, after so long fighting other Romans, I can forgive them for the Germani throwing them a bit of a challenge.

Marcus had spent the rest of the time riding out at the front of his men, doing his duty as best he could as injured. His men had their orders, and for once, Marcus knew that there was little else he could do. The men at the front needed him to lead best he could, and he needed this, to feel young again, to feel the fire in his veins. Yet it was still somewhat unsatisfying, the sensation, lessened by the knowledge that with it he was experiencing the eclipse of the civilization of the Inner Sea. Cold and pale the air and sun were, Marcus soon was sweating from exertion, stinging his eyes and causing him to shiver from the cold air that mixed beneath his armor - not good, causing him to grow weaker. Or perhaps he was drawing a fever from the wound that he could feel had reopened and was causing his arm to lock up. Marcus shifted in the saddle, stabbed down through the neck of a Quadi, blinking through the pain of the sweat flooding his eyes.

It was then he caught site of Secundus, hurrying towards him as fast as his marginally-more-martial coterie could clean through Marcus's soldiers and whatever of Secundus's own men and allies that could not get out of the way fast enough. Despite his situation, Marcus snickered at the sight, laughing out loud at the boy's wordy proclamations.

"My son," he called out. "It pains me more than you were ever capable of understanding that it comes to this. I realize that now. Perhaps if I had kept you close to me instead of sending you to the City, you would be different. I doubt it, from what I have seen from you. But at least we would not be ending things like this. As it is, I am afraid I cannot offer you the same terms you have given me. You have betrayed your nation and your God and your Emperor. For that, the only penance I will accept from you is death."

The cavalry alae met, and Marcus cried out as he felt a slicing pain in his right side. Nevertheless, he managed to take down his would-be killer, disappointed in a detached way that it was not Secundus, and even managed to stay on his charger for another turn. By now, it was little more than a mired melee, and Marcus cut down two more enemies - without honor, as they looked like little more than old veterans who had had no choice but to take his son's coin - before he re-caught sight of Secundus's banner. Marcus was almost at his son before he was knocked off, onto ground that was frozen with permafrost and slicked with blood.

Scrabbling for his lost blade, Marcus let out a shout as he felt, rather than heard or saw, a gladius glide right by his head, only later, as the adrenaline of the battle wore off, realizing he had lost a slice of his left ear. His fingers closed around a hard object. Not his sword, but a sword, and in a situation like this that was better than good. Picking it up, his hand slipping only slightly from the blood the sword's previous owner had left on the grip, Marcus took it and stood...

To see Secundus before him, having taken a similar fall, one that looked like it might have broken a leg. He looked up, his face in shock, a hand half-raised.

"Father..."

Marcus raised his sword and thrust down. Secundus's head rolled onto the ground, with the dirt is belonged in. Marcus felt no need to say anything else; he was pained to do it, true, but not sorry, and he had already said his goodbyes. He had done his duty. Nothing more or less than any other Roman officer would have done. At least, in the world that Marcus was fighting for and no longer existed.

It was as if, with the consummation of his purpose, whatever resolve he had left suddenly abandoned Marcus, and he slumped to the ground, exhausted. Figures appeared over him - his own men, Tribune Flavius among them. "Come on, General, time to get you back. This area won't be safe much longer." Then in a quieter tone to his comrades, "This can't all be the others' blood, can it?"

Marcus allowed himself to be lifted up, quiet even as his wounds were jostled and he was positioned on Flavius's horse, the legionaries justifiable nervous at whether or not they could return with their general in time, before the barbari and rebels returned. Throughout the ordeal, Marcus said only one thing:

"My son...You must bring my son back with us."

* * * * *

It was almost five more hours before the battle petered out. Secundus's forces had been eliminated for the most part shortly after his death, but the Germani seemed never-ending, and outside their walls and with their cavalry dispersed, the Roman forces were increasingly vulnerable to numbers and, especially to the invaluable and irreplaceable cavalry, spears. Secundus's head had been mounted on a pole on the ramparts, his body strung up like a grotesque caricature of the Christ on a hastily-erected crucifix. Marcus was in one of the sheltered oversight sections of the rampart, having waved away Hypatius's care after the physician had done more than simple re-bind the wounds, telling him that others were more deserving of his care. He had looked disturbed at that point, but said nothing before leaving, and Marcus soon put it from his mind.

Marcus dropped in and out of awakeness, but when conscience he was fully in command, giving orders and receiving reports, almost his old self. Even when asleep, Rufus - Scudilio having died an hour after Secundus - largely concerned himself with carrying out the Dux's commands.

After the five hours, the Germani suddenly pulled back at the sound of trumpet horns, and shortly later a white-flagged deputation approached. Rufus dispatched for a tribune as he roused Marcus, who was fully awake in time to hear that Germani's shouted words.

"I am Marcomer, shield-brother of Clodio and I command the Franci in this battle. The other thegnes and kings have spoken with me and we are one on this. I speak to Marcus the War-Chief. You have fought well today and we will sing the song of this battle far and wide, so our grandsons' grandsons's will know it. Your garrisons to the north have fallen. The hosts of Germania will pass through there into Gaul. We wish you no further pain, and even if you try to stop us, you cannot. Already our brothers there have moved their wagons and families. We have no further wish for violence between us. Allow us to withdraw and there will be an honorable peace between honorable warriors."

Marcus listened, his eyes blinking slowly as he pulled the thick wool blanket, caked with brown blood, around him. He finally nodded, once.

"General?" Rufus asked. "Are you...Do you really-"

"The Emperor will have my head for it, Rufus, but yes, I am sure." Marcus's voice was like a whisperer from the darkness. "Marcomer speaks the truth. We cannot stop them any more. They will cross whether or not we fight to the death here. The only difference is that if we do not, we will give them less cause to hate Rome and more soldiers remaining to defend her. This...There is not other way. Do it."

Silently, Rufus turned to give the tribune his orders, and Marcus watched as, within the hour, the Germani began to march west, for the land of warmth and riches that would no doubt prove just as disillusioning to them as it had turned to him. Nevertheless, he wished them well. After all, even after all this, they still worshiped Rome, revered it as an immortal and omni-powerful empire, wanted to serve its rulers. Perhaps this would be the blood that would revitalize Italy. Or perhaps the narrow-minded inbreds at Ravenna would squander this opportunity as well.

Marcus stood up shakily, shrugging off help. "Sir? Where are you going?" Rufus asked.

"This battle is over. My time is...almost over. I have just killed my son. I would like to see my daughter now."

Rufus and one of the tribunes looked at each other, before stepping up to him. "Sir, about your daughter..."

Marcus's eyes turned to diamonds at those words, and before Rufus had even finished explaining the situation fully, Marcus was hurrying as quickly as possible to the infirmary where Flavia lay. It was a measure of the crisis that he allowed two legionaries to practically pull him up as he started to stumble. But still, his gaze remained fixed ahead, needing to lay eyes on Flavia, before it was too late.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Flavia Procopia Aurelia Aquilina

First there had been nothing but searing pain, the mind-shattering sensations of flesh being ripped through, followed by the pulsating stream of blood that soaked through her delicate palla and continued to colour Flavia's stola a deep shade of red.

That was the initial response.

Then came the second wave of pain, burning through her every fibre, as the serrated head of the arrow pushed through her body. Thankfully it only lasted a second before blessed unconciousness draped her shroud about Flavia. She was dimly aware of being carried down from the ramparts, of being placed on a litter or stretcher and taken to a room that reeked of insence.

There was something familiar about it and after a few moments she realised that she was in the infirmary. She could hear voices, mentioning her name and that of Tata's. He was fighting. she remembered that, fighting her brother.

Flavia tried to stay focused. She knew that she ought to hate her brother, but right now she couldn't muster the strenght to do so. She was numb and experiencing a tiredness hitherto unknown to her. Yet she knew that she ought to speak to someone.

Tata.

But her was busy fighting was he not? Fredegund? Where was she now? She racked her increasingly incoherent mind until one name sprung up.

"I want to see the Tribune Nerva."

There was a brief pause as the Greek surgeon leaned closer and asked her repeat her request.

"I want to see the Tribune Nerva."

Flavia tried to keep her voice steady but the loss of blood had made her weak. She tried to focus on the worried face of the physician but the image kept blurring, and as she slid back into the darkness.

There was a gentle rustle as she opened her eyes again, to look into the blood stained features of the Tribune. He looked worried, causing Flavia to smile. Everyone was worried it seemed. Everyone but her. He said something, the meaning lost to her as she reached out to take his hand.

"Tell my father that I was honoured to know him, to have been his daughter." She coughed and felt the taste of blood in her mouth, noticing the way that the Greek physician looked at her.

I'm dying.

The realisation was a calming one. So this was the end then? To die in the stinking tent of the physician of a legion. Who would have guessed. Then again, now was as good a time as any.

"Tell the Dux that I want a funeral according to the old ways. Leave two coins for the ferry man."

She grasped his hand, giving it a feeble squeeze as she felt rather than saw Nerva nodding his understanding.

"Good. I will rest now until Tata comes back..."

 

[magbeam]

Marcus Procopius Elafius Aquila

"No. No, no no!"

Marcus collapsed to his knees before the bed where Flavia lay, unnaturally pale against even her dark crimson palla. Nerva the young tribune, looking as if he had earned himself a few new scars in the fighting, stood to one side, reaching out, trying to say something, but Marcus pushed him away. However nice and loyal and friendly to Flavia he had been, Marcus was not in a mood to listen to it, not now. He wasn't of a mood to listen to anyone, or anything, or care about what even an hour before had seemed so important.

Marcus collapsed to his knees, burying his face against Flavia's cold, hard chest, her blood smearing what was already left on his face from friend and foe and himself alike. He took one of her awkwardly-repositioned fists, prying the stiffened fingers apart to insinuate his own between them. His tears, colored salmon by the path down his face and nose, dripped onto her clothing, leaving diluted areas amidst the bloodstains. As if, if he only cried hard enough, shed enough of his tears onto her, she might be washed free of this hell, baptized and reborn and he could already almost see her smile, feel her standing up...

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Marcus angrily shrugged it off, not wanting to hear their words of sympathy, for those would mean that this was true, that he had to admit to this terrible reality; not wanting to give orders or advice, for that would mean removing himself, however slightly, from his mourning. Marcus no longer cared what his soldiers thought, what orders and duty and propriety meant. The battle was over, the war was lost and with it the Empire and civilization and the Italian race. He no longer had a legion. He no longer was a general. He no longer had to worry about any of the frivolities and hypocrisies; now, he was free to indulge, to mourn his little Flavia, and he found the sudden freedom suddenly terrifying.

"Why? Iesu, why have you cursed me?"

He had converted when it had been necessary. Pledged himself to the strange new god out of the East. Turned his back on his forefathers. Left his homeland, his dear Britannia, in perpetual exile to serve a succession of emperors which outdid each other only in the amount of narrow-minded and selfish damage they did to the Empire. Followed orders slavishly, even when he knew they were wrong; fought his best against usurpers who, at the worst case, could have been no worse than Honorius. Given up so much to see his son become someone, only to kill him with his own hands. To live with the shame that he had killed his son, but not before his son had killed the empire and Flavia and Gaul and how many other sons of the Eternal City.

Nerva was talking. The realization hit like a lightning bolt from Jove. The men were all standing around, staring or trying not to stare at the spectacle their general, the height of manliness and order and gentlemanly conduct, was making, blubbering over his daughter like someone from a Greek tragedy. And Nerva was still talking.

"...said she wanted an old funeral, done in the manner of the...of the old ways," the young man said, even now finding it hard to speak of the proscribed pagan ways. "And she said she would wait for you. Then she...She waited for you."

"Wait for me." Marcus's voice was hard as he rose, unsteadily from Flavia's bed. "Yes. She told me that also. That she would always wait for me." Marcus stood still, feeling as if his age had finally caught up with him.

"Sir?" Nerva finally asked. "The men, they need to know what to do, what's next-"

"What's next? Whatever else could be next?" Marcus turned to look at the others, his watery eyes showing a remnant of the hard determination that had kept him afloat for the past three decades. "We obey her final wishes, of course."

* * * * *

The flames of Flavia's funeral bier rose what must have been thirty feet into the cold air from the east that now was German in ownership as well as temperature. Had he looked out at the river who had failed its final duty as a defense of the Empire, Marcus could even have seen its reflection there. But he could not take his eyes away from the image, already long gone, of his daughter's body being consumed by the flames, fueled by the torn-down defenses of the legionary camp. It, at least, had served well. And now it was performing its final duty.

No other survivors had come from the frontier garrisons. Only this main fortress had held out. In a way, Marcus could not help but feel a slight bit relieved at the realization that everyone else had died. The Germani had been too strong, in the end. They would have overpowered his army no matter what. It was pure luck - pure bad luck - that he had not been killed also. Now, at least, he could pretend it was the will of God, or the gods, or the celestial music, or whatever there was up there. They had willed this. The triumph of Germania over Romania, a new people for a new age. An age that someone like him could never have survived in.

Marcus barely moved when Fredegund approached him, saying her teary farewell before retainers escorted her back to her camp. He said little when Rufus asked for orders to give the remainder of the army - the few hundred men who hadn't succumbed to their wounds within the hours after the battle, for no man had gone unwounded. There was little point to give orders that meant nothing. However, when a courier, tired and near collapse, had arrived with notice that Flavius Constantius, the Master of Soldiers himself, had received Marcus's request for aid and was en-route...Then, Marcus stirred.

It was his way out.

* * * * *

When the Master of Soldiers arrived two weeks later, at the head of the twenty-thousand men of the field army, it was far, far too late to do anything beyond make a token show of force for the huddle remnants of Gallic civilization. Constantius made his way to the camp where the Army of the Rhine had once been, formally meeting up with the remains under Rufus. A decent man who valued competency as well as friendship, Constantius had grieved on both accounts to hear of the death of Marcus Procopius Elafius Aquila in the fighting. However, there was little time to mourn, little time to engage in any emotions whatsoever. The Vandali were making trouble in Hispania, the Easterners were acting uppity, there was a rumor of revolt in Africa. The Empire was on the verge of collapse, as if it, too, grieved for the loss of its favored son.

And so, after a week's rest and with Rufus as his new staff chief, Constantius marched West, abandoning the now useless frontier, and leaving behind only a burnt palisade as a monument, all too ephemeral, of where the eagle had finally fallen.

 

[magbeam]

Epilogue

Tintagel, Britannia
Many years later

"But that's not where the story ended, Father, is it?" the proud youth - man, now, of course, Marcus reflected; so hard to remember that - asked, despite already knowing the truth in his heart. "You didn't die. So you...deserted."

"I had done my duty, my boy. More than that. My...my entire life was over. Even you and your friends, you can't understand what it was like in those days, for a soldier of the Empire. And then, to find out that it...It was all nothing, it was gone even what was left..."

The young man put his hand on Marcus's arm. "You would have been blamed for the Emperor's shortfalls, for his misplaced trust and complicity. Again. So you did what any reasonable, loyal man would do. I understand, Father."

"Do you?" Marcus squinted his rheumy eyes, then smiled. "Ambrosius, if any other man now living on this island understands, I do think that it would be you. Yes, I deserted. Even I, and even after all these years, must still live up to that in my heart. I admit that at first I did not know where to go. Maybe Constantinopolis; the Eastern Empire always needs more officers. Or even one of the barbarian kingdoms. I could have found myself a trusted and powerful thegn, even among those I had just fought; perhaps Fredegund and I could have been happy together. But in the end, I decided it was finally time to return home. The Londinium council was near collapse, the barbarians were at the doorsteps - they needed someone to take command. And it turned out one of my cousins was in the council, which made things somewhat easier. To listen to Vortigern talk, he made me Count of the Saxon Shore right off, but it was more of him giving me the title of the job I had been doing for some time."

"You saved the island, Father." Now Ambrosius sounded like he was reciting something well known, a commonly spoken legend - which he was. "And built Tintagel as your headquarters, and married Isotta and had me and Drustanus and Sister. And continued to serve the Commonwealth. Until now."

"Until now...Count Ambrosius," Marcus affirmed. "Finally, it is time for me to rest, now that I am sure that I have found a successor who won't."

Ambrosius nodded, than rose, downing the last of his cervisa before once more grasping his old father's shoulder. "Thank you, Father. For telling me this."

"Well, I had to tell someone, after all this time. You'll be taking command of the Combrogi. You're my...my eldest son. It felt right. Just...take an old man's advice. Watch out for Vortigern. And look out for your friends Gwrlais and Uter. They're all too headstrong and impetuous. Bad traits in commanders and subordinates both."

"I will, Father," Ambrosius promised with the air of a man, however cautious and open to suggestion, who has heard the same advice one time too many, as he strapped on his armor painted with the red dragon standard. "But at least now I know one thing."

"And what would that be, my boy?"

"Now I know why you gave little sister such a Roman name as Flavia." He flashed his father a white smile. "Until the campaign season is over, then...Farewell. I'll make you proud."

Marcus smiled in return. "I do believe that you will."

Finis