Chapter 31 Echoes of a Forthcoming War

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.