On the eve of the third day, following Marcellus' order of stirrups, the man in question was fast asleep. In his dreams, another vision had come to him. It was a discussion from the perspective of Frank Caruso, with a friend of his from college. The two men were in the basement of of the friend's house playing war games.
With a haughty smile, Frank moved his heavy cavalry into place as they flanked the enemy. After a roll of the dice, it was determined that his attack had dealt a critical blow to the enemy forces, causing his friend to lose many of his elite troops. The young man cursed at frank as he gazed upon the devastation that had been done to his miniature army.
"You bastard! You took out my fire wizards! How am I supposed to beat you now?"
Despite his friends' protests, Frank was in a good mood. He knew the young man's comments were not hostile in the least, and were merely friendly banter exchanged between two men. Instead, he had a shit-eating grin on his face as he poured salt on the wound.
"Bah fire wizards? You seriously think that such petty magic tricks can contend with the might of a couched lance? You have much to learn, my friend!"
The friend looked at Frank with a pitiful expression, he knew Frank was flouting his history degree in his face. Even though he did not want to sit through another one of the man's lectures, he knew that it was going to have to happen either way. Thus, the young man bit the proverbial bullet as he asked what his friend was talking about.
"What the hell is a couched lance?"
A smug expression was on Frank's lips. He always loved talking about his area of study, so much so that his friends and family found it tedious. However, he couldn't help it. He was passionate about history, and thus had come to see himself as an educator of the ignorant.
"You seriously don't know what a couched lance is? Okay, so you know what stirrups are right? Basically, some time after stirrups were invented, some unknown genius had the idea to hold the lance in a special way beneath their shoulder. This provided stability for the lance, allowing for serious damage to be inflicted on his foe, when the lance collided with the speed of the horse.
The reason why such a tactic was never used before the invention of stirrups was because there was nothing to keep the rider seated. If he dared to do such a thing, he'd probably end up falling off his horse..
The friend scowled at Frank as he watched the man shamelessly perform the gesture of couching his imaginary lance. This guy wasted all of his brainpower on something so worthless. Just when the hell would he ever need to know how to couch a lance? Eventually, he ignored Frank's comments and shifted his attention towards his crumbling lines of defense.
"No wonder you cut through my wizards then, if even a heavily armored knight would meet his end against such a tactic..."
Marcellus awoke with a sweat, as he gazed over at his side where Sigefrida lay asleep. He did not know why he was having another dream about stirrups, but despite the strange occurrence, there was some useful information in the vision. He quickly got out of his bed and got dressed. After all, the sun was rising, and today was the day he could finally test his newest invention.
Hours passed and Marcellus was waiting patiently in front of the blacksmith known by the name of Catus. For the first time, Marcellus had heard the man's voice as he spoke up about the stirrups. It was a deep and gruff voice befitting the man's masculine appearance.
"As promised, I have made your devices. If that is all, I have other matters to attend to."
Marcellus did not take offense at the blunt nature of the man, and instead thanked him for his help.
"Thank you, Catus. If these work out as planned, I will be back for more orders later."
Despite Marcellus' offer of future business, the blacksmith ignored him, and instead began cutting out some iron nails. The man's work was never truly finished. There were a lot of things that needed to be made of iron in the village, and he was one of the few blacksmiths in the region who could fulfill such a task.
Marcellus paid no heed to this and instead took his stirrups to the tanner, who by now would be finished with his new saddle. The tanner had an excited look on his face as noticed the General's approach and quickly greeted him. Unlike Catus, he was a much more sociable person..
"Dux, come take a look! I have completed the saddle you have asked for."
Marcellus gazed upon the fine leather saddle with a hint of pride in his eyes, it was made of a chestnut brown leather, and was truly fitting for a man of his position. After closely examining the saddle, he attached the iron stirrups before nodding his head to the tanner.
"Excellent job. If my experiment works, you will be the first to know, as I will need quite a few more of these new saddles."
The tanner smiled and nodded his head. Afterward, Marcellus ordered his personal guard to carry the saddle back to his villa. He planned to test the device out himself. As he turned to leave, the tanner thanked him for his business.
"I look forward to your results!"
Marcellus nodded his head with a smile on his lips before returning to his villa, where the stables kept his personal steed. It was a fine horse of noble lineage, who had been Marcellus' mount for many years. The stallion had a chestnut colored coat, and a white spot on its forehead. Marcellus calmed the horse as he equipped its saddle.
"Shhhh... shhhh... Behave yourself, Romulus!"
The steed, named Romulus, was obedient as Marcellus took a deep breath before putting one foot into the stirrup and hoisting himself onto the beast's back. He calmed himself once both feet were secured in the iron fittings before commanding the steed to take a slow trot forward and out of the stables.
Though the sensation was strange, Marcellus soon became used to the stirrups and had finally mustered the courage to usher the horse forward at a faster speed. He guided the beast into the field as several targets had been prepared in advance for the experiment. After arriving at the area, a soldier handed him a lance, and a shield where Marcellus snapped the reins, ordering a full charge at the target.
Marcellus followed the instructions from his dream as he clumsily couched the lance beneath his arm and charged towards the straw target, which was covered in a mail coat at full speed. When his lance collided with the target, it pierced through the riveted mail armor as if it was made of butter, bringing a smile to his face.
Not only did he pierce through the armor of the straw target, but his lance had practically gone out the other side. Despite the speed at which he had struck the target, Marcellus was still seated on horseback. When the soldiers watching him saw this, they were shocked, believing he would surely fall off his horse at such speeds.
The stirrup solved many problems with cavalry, for starters it made it incredibly easy to mount the horse, before this invention it took significant training just to be able to properly mount a horse. Secondly, it made it easier to ride the horse. The amount of training required to stay seated on your mount was extensive. This was no longer the case with the invention of stirrups. Finally, the stirrups allowed the rider to remain seated even at high speed collisions, making it ideal for cavalry.
This was one simple test. Marcellus rode back and forth between the many targets at breakneck speeds, using his couched lance to thrust through whatever defenses were in its path. He spent several hours conducting experiments on the use of stirrups, and the many weapons that cavalry utilized. He was particularly fond of its capabilities, with heavy cavalry and horse archers.
By the time the sun went down, Marcellus regrouped with Ordius, and outlined his findings in an extensive report.
"It would appear my suspicions were correct. The stirrup greatly increases the controllability and maneuverability of the rider. I suspect it makes learning how to ride easier, as it is a simple task to mount the horse, let alone stay on it.
With these devices, we could raise a troop of Cataphracts in a fraction of the time it would normally take. Years of training could be halved with this invention! Not to mention the role it plays in horse archery! My friend, I think I have just started a new era of cavalry warfare..."
Ordius gazed upon his commander with shock in his eyes. Cataphracts were among the best cavalry units in the empire. If they could be raised with less training and expense, it could be a game changer. He quickly nodded his head before responding to Marcellus' summary.
"Tomorrow morning, I will begin requisitioning as many mounts and saddles so that we can begin raising cavalry forces. Though we might not be able to afford cataphracts at the moment, we can still make a significant difference on the battlefield with this discovery!"
Marcellus nodded his head in agreement. The invention of the saddle would change warfare as the world knew it. It might even be able to aid him in his future battles with the Goths. He had no time to waste and quickly approved of the idea. After speaking of these issues, the two men departed. There was much work to be done, and not enough time in the world to fulfill it.
Marcellus gazed at the gory scene with a stoic expression on his handsome face. He had seen much death in this life and had even put many men to the sword. However, every time he witnessed the savagery of the Goths, he felt bitter in his heart.
Word had come in the night that the goths had raided a nearby village in Illyricum. Though this village technically wasn't Marcellus' responsibility to protect, the fact that the barbarians had dared to ransack a village so close to Castra Regina meant one thing: They were testing him.
It was not a well kept secret that Marcellus had been banished from polite society, forced to look after a small stronghold at the edge of the world. As time passed, word reached the ears of the goths. Though Marcellus had never been granted the victory title of Gothicus, his past glories were worthy of such an honor.
In the hearts of many of the tribal warriors, Marcellus and his proud legions of palatini were a serious threat to their dominance in the region. They were pleased to hear that previously he had been shipped to Gaul to fight a war with another Roman. However, that relief did not last long. Now the Goth-slayer himself was sitting at the borders of their territory.
Such a thing could not be tolerated, and Alaric had decided to test the Roman General's resolve. The scene of the town was a smoldering ruin, with corpses littering the field. Among the dead, they were mostly men, undoubtedly the barbarians had kidnapped the women and children for the purpose of slavery.
Smoke filled the air, despite the fires having long since died down. Suffocating the Roman soldiers who witnessed the bloody scene of their neighbors' destruction. It was evident just by a casual glance that there were no survivors remaining in the village. However, there was one thing of notice which confirmed that this was a Gothic raid.
In the center of the village was a large zierscheibe constructed out of the severed limbs of the raiding party's victims. Such a gruesome sight was revolting to gaze upon, and surely, if one was less accustomed to death and bloodshed, they would have vomited the contents of their stomachs upon witnessing such a scene.
There was only one reason for such brutality, and that was the fact that the chieftain in charge was leaving a message for Marcellus. Soon enough, the Goths will march on Castra Regina. Such news did not bode well for the Romans. After all, Castra Regina was essentially the gateway into Italy. If the Goths wanted to invade from the east, they would either have to traverse for countless miles around the stronghold, or seize it with force.
Upon realizing the intentions of his enemies, Marcellus immediately snapped the reins of his horse and began to ride back to the village, ordering a swift withdrawal to his soldiers as he did so.
"We return to Castra Regina at once. There is nothing to salvage here..."
With their commands, the makeshift cavalry that had been assembled in the weeks following Marcellus' successful experiments followed their leader back to the frontier stronghold. Completely unaware that a pair of pale blue eyes gazed upon their actions, hidden in the thick foliage of the nearby woods.
After the Romans retreated from the area, a burly barbarian who wore the skin of a bear, and not much else, spat on the ground as he addressed his commander.
"They're retreating! Should we attack them now?"
The Commander gazed into the distance as he watched the backs of the Roman forces withdraw. He shook his head before responding to his warrior's question.
"No, they have seen our message. It is now up to Alaric to negotiate with the Romans for the promised payment."
The bearskin warrior simply nodded his head in silence as he dreamed about the spoils that he would soon enjoy. War was coming to Italy, whether or not the Romans paid the ransom, bloodshed between the two peoples was an inevitability.
----
Back in Ravenna, Stilicho stood within the senate with a stern expression on his face. Currently, he was engaged in a bitter argument with Olympius and his supporters. Honorius acted as witness to this dispute, but truthfully could not care less about the topic at hand. With a boisterous voice, the Supreme Commander made his case.
"Alaric has made his demands. If we do not pay him a ransom in gold, he will invade Italy through the borders at Illyricum. If we do not agree to his demands now, then I fear we will soon be facing an invasion in the both the East and West! When that happens, Rome can not defend itself. Our forces are dwindling. With the defeat of Marcellus in Gaul, we now have even fewer soldiers to rely upon. We must pay the man!"
Olympius scoffed when he heard the words that Stilicho Spoke. Perhaps the man was too close to his godson and was merely trying to appease the enemy so they would not claim the boy's head. Regardless of the actual reason that Stilicho may have for agreeing to the Goths demands, the senator refused to admit defeat.
"Bah! For what purpose should we hand a treasury's worth of gold over to these filthy barbarians? Did we not assign Marcellus on the border to keep Alaric and his filthy band of savages at bay? You even said it yourself. Marcellus is a rare talent. If you ask me, it was a wise decision by the Emperor to place him on the border as a deterrence against the Goths. He does have a fearsome reputation among them, does he not?"
Stilicho was furious at the mention of Marcellus' reassignment. One of his best generals was now acting as a glorified border guard. He could not fathom the stupidity in Olympius's mind to be so foolish as to compel the emperor to dispatch Marcellus to Castra Regina. He immediately began to rebuke the man for his statement.
"Do you not realize what you have just said? You are asking us to rely on the faith of the Goths and the ancient terror of the Roman name! A simple army of limitanei can not hope to hold the line against a gothic horde, even with a commander as brilliant as Marcellus at its helm!"
The two sides of the senate argued back and forth for some time. Only a small minority of the men gathered accepted Stilicho's voice of reason. The foolish senators looked towards the courage of their ancestors on how to deal with the Gothic menace, when they instead should have followed their wisdom.
Honorius, while initially unconcerned with the events that were being discussed, scowled when he heard Stilicho praise Marcellus once more. He had thought that he had gotten rid of that thorn in his side, but in the end, he still could not escape hearing praise for the man. Thus, he responded in Stilicho's favor, but for all the wrong reasons.
"Titus Claudius Marcellus is a disgrace sent to guard the border as punishment for his failures. If the Goths truly pose as severe as a threat as Stilicho implies, then we can't simply leave the region's defense to that fool. I would much rather take solace in paying a simple ransom to those filthy Goths than trusting the lives of every Roman to a man like Marcellus."
Olympius' smile grew bitter as he heard this. The Roman Treasury was dwindling each day, and inflation was at an all-time high. However, it could still afford to pay a ransom here or there, thus he sighed heavily before nodding his head in agreement.
"If that is what his majesty wishes, then we will pay off the Goths. We will just need some time to collect the funds. In the meantime, I am sure that Marcellus can handle the pressure from the Goths. Or perhaps he is as incapable as the emperor suggests, and if so, we will be facing a crisis. Only time will tell."
Honorius nodded his head in silence, while Stilicho felt like crying. Though he could not refute Olympius' words, he knew the man would deliberately take his sweet time to collect the funds. His intent was clear. Olympius wanted to get rid of Marcellus once and for all, and having the boy act as the first line of defense against a Gothic Horde was a good way to accomplish such a thing.
Though Stilicho was unaware of the recent raids on the border, he suspected such things were occurring. If Marcellus could not successfully deter the Goths long enough for their payment to be delivered, then the Italian peninsula would soon be flooded with barbarians. Ultimately, it was as Olympius had stated. Only time could tell what would transpire.
Paragraph comment
Paragraph comment feature is now on the Web! Move mouse over any paragraph and click the icon to add your comment.
Also, you can always turn it off/on in Settings.
GOT IT