Death of an Empire

[Chingis Khan]

Caeser tapped his lip thoughtfully as he pondered on the letter. Not five weeks in his new office as governor of the Spanish provinces, and already the games had began. He let out a sigh and read the letter once more,

My dearest Julius,
It has been too long since Rome. I pray this letter finds you in good health, as I pray you will return to my arms soon. The fires of my heart burn brightly to hear of your recent election, however, you must be careful of your newfound success, lest it go to your head. Remember, I think of you always,

S

At first glance, the letter appeared to be a love note, but since Julius had no loves in his life, and none of the girls he had lain with had half the wit to write a letter this eloquent, he knew it to be a dire warning. But from whom? “S” was the only signature he had, and that may or may not be a real initial. He shook himself slightly; whoever wrote the letter was a mystery for another time. “Fires of my heart burn brightly of your recent election”. The “heart” must mean the heart of the empire, Rome. And if it was burning with the news, that must mean that there were some Senators who were not pleased with the way that he was gaining power. No doubt they felt jealous and threatened. That was no surprise in itself, Senators were a notorious bunch for scheming against one another for money and power; no, what was surprising was why he should be “careful of his newfound success, lest it go to his head”. Why would his life be in danger? Surely the Senators wouldn’t go that far, would they? After all, his popularity with the people of Rome made him near untouchable. There was obviously more going on in Rome than he knew, and that made Caeser uncomfortable. He doubted he would get much sleep that night, but sleep he did; and his dreams were filled of assassins and knives.

A loud booming knock woke Julius with a start. His hand was already reaching to his side; reaching for the short bladed gladius that took Caeser's sleep weary mind a second to realize that he no longer wore. Damn, but he was tired! He hadn't had a good night's rest in, what?... two months? Ever since he had receive the news. Nonetheless, Caeser was one of those men that could go from dead sleep to full awareness in split seconds, and he was already to his feet and halfway dressed when Crassus barged his way into Caeser's room. Two of Julius' slaves were attempting to stop the intruder from disturbing their master's rest. It was an exercise in futility as Crassus swept them along with his large frame.
Julius' face broke into a wide grin at the sight of his dear friend; he waved off the serving men as if they were flies as he greeted Crassus in a monstrous bear hug,
"By the Gods, it is good to see you!"
Crassus laughed heartily, "And you, Julius."
Caeser turned away as Crassus dropped his huge body onto the couch, "A drink?"
Crassus was busy admiring the couch he sat on; a beautifully carved slab of marble, lavishly covered with finely crafted pillows of all sorts. "Eh? A drink, you say? Do the Spaniards cower like dogs at the sight of our legions? Of course a drink! Ha! I must say, you have definitely moved up in the world. This place would do a Senator proud."
Caeser laughed as he brought two goblets of plum wine, "No, Senators are too busy stabbing you in the back to worry about where they live."
"All too true."
The two men busied themselves catching up on old times. The last time Caeser had seen Crassus had been during the Punic War. Julius laughed to himself as he remembered their first meeting. Crassus had been a businessman; well, a businessman of sorts, anyway. Crassus had owned the only fire service in Rome. He would be the only one to show up who could help a large building on fire. Then, he would buy the burning building at a bargain price before agreeing to put out the flames! He had made a large sum of money this way; as well as a lot of enemies. Men who had been only too glad to get at least some recompense for an otherwise lost building, later accused Crassus of foul play; a man could amass a good amount of enemies at profiting from others misfortune. So Crassus had gone to Caeser, who was young enough then to help another man for the good of it, and also gaining popularity rapidly among the people of Rome. Caeser's support of Crassus had helped both men immeasurably in their respective political careers.
Suddenly, and without warning, their conversation died off. Both men looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then Crassus looked downwards and cleared his throat before speaking again,
"I heard of Little Villa, Julius. A great shame."
Julius' face seemed to freeze over instantly. He paused for what felt like an eternity before draining his goblet and reaching for a refill.
"My family are safe within the underworld, Crassus. They are with the Gods now. And those that put them there, shall join them soon enough. This, I swear!"
Julius looked down in sudden surprise at the wine which slopped over the side f his goblet. He had crushed the finely worked silver in his hand as if it were paper. He made an exasperated noise as he reached down to make a clumsy and fruitless effort to straighten the ruined cup.
"That is why I took this job here in Spain, Crassus. It was here, in this Godless land that the murders took place. It is here that I will find my vengeance. But it seems as though even here, even at the outermost reaches of our empire, I cannot escape the machinations of our politics. Here...", he fetched the letter he had receive and handed it to Crassus, who read it with a blank expression.
"I didn't know that the resentment against you ran so deep. You should watch your back, my friend. They never would have dared to make a move so bold in Rome against you."
Caeser sighed and sat down again, "I know. But now that I am out here, with no friends, except those I buy.... That was part of the reason I sent for you."
Crassus leant forward, "Part of the reason...?"
"Yes, the main reason is that I want you to General the legions for me."
Crassus choked on his wine, sending it spraying in a fine mist across the fine carpets. "You must be out of your mind! You know that you are by far the greatest General Rome has ever seen! Why in blazes would you want this fat old buzzard to command your legions? You must know that each victory you win over the Spanish barbarians brings more fame and power."
Caeser laughed. "You may be a fat old buzzard, but I remember the Punic wars, and you seemed to do quite alright as I recall. As for the other. Well, I am a Governor now. I can't just pick up a sword and go charging off to battle! And I need time to find those responsible for Little Villa." A silence fell once again between the two. Crassus gazed levelly at Caeser, before Julius cleared his throat and continued, "Besides, perhaps having you win victories and fame will change the Senators mind about having me killed."
"What! And I suppose they will then want to kill me! Some friend you are!"
Caeser joined in laughter with Crassus. His face grew more serious before going on,
"I am afraid I will have to press you for a response, my friend. Forgive me, but word of an uprising of the Spanish barbarians has reached me, and the legions will march at the beginning of the week to destroy them. I want you to lead them. Will you?"
Crassus thought for a moment; then downed the rest of his wine.
"Why not?”

When the legions of Rome marched, it was a sight to behold. The sandals of over eight thousand soldiers shook the dry, dusty land across which they marched. A huge trail of dust rose into the blue skies above, as if to point out the approaching army. The brightly painted scutum stood out from miles away, so that one looking from afar would see a bright red smear streaking across the landscape.
Almost two full legions marched on this day. A huge column of men marching onwards; a mass of brilliant colors, interspaced with the banners and standards of the two legions, each man carrying his scutum, two pilum, and wearing the famous lorica segmentata. It was a sight to inspire fear into the hearts of the stoutest man.
Crassus rode among the main body of the army. He had arranged the legions into the traveling formation, with cavalry riding up front, along with some light infantry as a vanguard, followed by the main force of infantry. After them, came the baggage train and servants, guarded by more cavalry. Forming the rear guard, were several units of the best infantry and yet more cavalry. Surrounding the army on all sides were several units of light infantry, acting as a scouting screen. It was the standard formation for a legion on the move, and Crassus mused on how well trained these legionnaires were. Well, after all, they had been trained and tested under Caeser’s watchful eye. It would almost be a joy to see them in action against the Spanish barbarians.

Not fifty miles to the west, in the dry and gritty land, the Spanish “freedom fighters’, as they had called themselves, gathered together in preparation of the forthcoming battle. The heads of all the tribes sat together in grim silence for a while. One spoke,
“No one before has survived facing the legions.”
“We must do what we must do. Would you rather lay down and give our father’s lands to these Roman dogs?”
“We have less then ten thousand men. I hear that the Romans bring not one, but two whole legions to destroy us! That is almost ten thousand men they have themselves!”
“Good, then it will be a fair fight.”
“Ha! In what lands would that be? If we had three times their numbers, I still would not give an ounce of goat’s piss for our chances!”
There was silence for some time, and then ,
“We should ready the men. The Romans will be here the day after tomorrow. We have no time.”
The Spanish went about their preparations with heavy hearts. There were few who doubted the outcome, yet it was a testament to Spanish courage, and heart, that they would fight nonetheless…

The Senate. The most powerful, and influential group of men in Rome. Perhaps the world. They sat in meeting, wearing their togas, which they all privately hated, and couldn't wait to get out of. The damn things may look grand, thought Gnaeus Pompeius, but they were an inconvenience to keep on. They kept wanting to fall apart at the slightest movement. Gnaeus grumbled to himself as he readjusted his toga for what felt like the millionth time. Ah! Good, it is finally over, thought Gnaeus. He hated the pomposity of the other Senators, and had come to dread the sittings of the Senate. As they headed towards the entrance, a beautiful marbled floor leading through finely carved columns to a grand staircase, he caught sight of Augustus Romanos, one of the most senior members of the Senate, and not without influence.
"Ah, good day to you Senator. I pray the Gods smile on you."
Augustus barely broke stride, "And to you, Senator."
Gnaeus swallowed his snarl; the older man was dealing with him as though he were a fly! Well, he would soon learn different. They all would! He continued in a smoothly oiled voice, "I hear word from the Spanish provinces is most favorable to Rome. Another great victory for Caeser."
Augustus kept the same pace and hardly flickered his eyes at Gnaeus, he had almost reached the staircase, "Yes, yes. Of course another victory for Rome. Did you expect different?"
Gnaeus choked back his anger. The old fool was not taking the bait. Well, he would just have to try another angle.
"I am sorry to hear of your daughter, Senator. Such a tragic loss, yes? Well, I am sure that Caeser can be trusted to find the culprits responsible for the massacre. After all, he was so eager to take the Governorship of the Spanish provinces. And so close to the site of that horrible act."
Augustus stopped so quickly, that Gnaeus almost tripped over his toga. When he turned, his eyes were full of a terrible, cold rage, but when he spoke, not a hint of it entered his voice.
"You seem to have a problem with Caeser, boy. Do you really think your petty games concern me? I have been a member of this Senate for two decades! I have played all the games there are to play; I created a few games that would spin your foolish head in circles! You think to manipulate me? You dare to use my daughter's death to pull me around like some damned puppet? I will tell you this one time, and one time only, whatever problem you have with Caeser, is between you and him."
Gnaeus replied in an instant, "I am sorry Senator. You are right, I should not have used your daughter's death in such a crude manner. It is just that I think there is more to Caeser than meets the eye. I don't know who else to turn to... you are the most powerful man I know, and if you can't help me..."
Augustus lowered his brows and motioned for Gnaeus to continue. Gnaeus looked around, and lowered his voice,
"I think that somehow, Caeser was behind the massacre at Little Villa. I think that he caused the massacre of his family, along with many others to whip up sympathy for himself, and to have an excuse to take the Governorship of Spain! You well know how much power he has to gain there. He is already ordered the legions to destroy all remaining resistance in the provinces."
Augustus stopped him with an upraised hand, "This is preposterous!", he paused, and shook his head slightly, "I will not believe it of Julius, he may be an ambitious man, but that does not make him a murderer. Perhaps if you had some kind of... proof?"
Gnaeus nodded as he smiled to himself. Another seed of doubt raised. Soon enough, he would need no proof, the whispers around the hall, that he started, would soon begin to seep into every corrupted nook and cranny of the Senate. Soon enough, the rumors would be proof of themselves, as they fed upon themselves in a vicious feeding frenzy, and at the center would be the lie made true. Julius Caeser would fall, and then....

[Chingis Khan]

”He whose light infantry is good should cover his center by forming them in it’s front and charge both the enemy’s wings at once. This is the fifth formation.”

General Revolutionary

Crassus surveyed the field. The Spanish had attempted to fortify their position on a rocky incline. It would make little difference. Spanish arrows, darts, and spears had all proven most ineffective against the Roman army time and time again. And once the legions closed ranks with the Spanish, the outcome was all but assured. Crassus had decided to make this a spectacular victory for the Romans, and a crushing defeat for the Spanish dogs; not from a sense of glory, or bloodlust as some other generals had in the past, but to serve as a valuable lesson for the peoples of this new land. They must learn who controlled Spain. They would learn here, now.
Crassus had arranged the legions into the fifth formation, a variation on the fourth. In the fourth formation, the army was arranged into four parts; the left wing, the center, the right wing, and the reserves. The entire army would be brought close to the enemy, where the two wings would then charge. This tactic had proven useful in surprising an enemy and often bought a quick resolution to the battle. Using the fifth formation reduced the risks of having the enemy survive the initial attack, and counter with your army divided, by reinforcing the center with light infantry and archers, thus making it far less vulnerable. Crassus chuckled to himself as he recalled the last time he had used this maneuver, so many years ago. The tables had been turned on him then, and he would have lost many men, if not for the intervention of a bright young general named Caeser. However, today, thought Crassus, today, there would be no mistakes. Although he had chosen a tactic quite disdainful of the Spanish abilities, especially considering the two armies were of equal size, he already knew the outcome of this battle as if Mars himself had descended the heavens to tell him personally.

The centurion looked over his men. Most were green, and had never been close to a battle before today. But that was okay; the centurion had trained most of these kids himself, and he was a harsh teacher. He knew they would perform well. One young man looked as though he might lose his lunch. The centurion walked to him, and clapped him on the back,
“Ah, don’t look so upset, lad. You’ll get the chance to kill a few Spaniards before the day is through!”, he flung his arm out across the century, “You all will! Make no mistake, my young lads, you stick to what I taught you, and they won’t stand a chance! Remember, these Spanish fight as though they all want to be heroes. Well, let them! We will fight as one team.” He picked up some dry sticks from, the ground. He plucked out one of the bigger sticks, “One man alone, no matter how strong he may be, is weak by virtue of his isolation,” he snapped the stick in half with a lazy movement. Then he grabbed a bundle of smaller sticks and held them together. “Many men together, no matter how weak they may be, become strong by virtue of their teamwork.” He strained to snap the bundle of sticks, but the bundle held firm.
“Remember, stay close to one another, trust your fellow man to defend your weak side, as you defend the man next to you. If I see a man leave the formation for heroics, I’ll kill him myself. Now get ready, for we charge the Spaniards soon.”
The green faced young man looked grateful at the words of encouragement, “Thank you, centurion. Um… I am new to this unit, what is your name?”
The centurion turned to look out over the battlefield, he answered over his shoulder, “My name is Glavius.”
Caeser stood at the balcony of his mansion. The view here was quite spectacular; overlooking the town of Santa Barbos and the Bay of Barbos. He mulled over the latest news his detectives had brought to him. He had hired several such detectives, and at no inconsiderable cost. The lead detective, Antonius, a former policeman of Rome and a one time lieutenant in Legion XXI, had come to Caeser three hours ago with some disturbing news,

Antonius marched his way into Caeser’s lobby, led by Caeser’s retainers. He stopped abruptly, knelt to one knee, and proceeded with his report without preamble,
“Governor, you said to report directly upon light of any new development into the case of the Little Villa massacre.”
Caeser motioned impatiently, “Yes,yes. Go on…”
Antonius stood, “It was not the Spanish rebels who attacked. It was no Spanish of any kind.”
Caeser came to his feet sharply, in shock, “Not the Spanish?”
“No sir.”
“Then who? How can you be sure? What… I mean… not the Spanish?”
“There were several clues, at least to those trained to look. The way that the whole slaughter was conducted, for example, was far too organized for the rebels, bandits, or even a group of discontented Spaniards. Every man, woman and child was systematically rounded up and killed. This would take either great luck, or good planning and execution. My instinct tells me that the perpetrator of the deed had prior knowledge of how many people there would be, where they would be, when they would be most lightly escorted…”
Caeser broke in, “Are you trying to say that the massacre was committed by Romans? An assassination of the families of high ranking Roman officials?”
“I don’t know politics, sir. I do know that it was no Spanish who attacked that day. The material evidence also points to Romans. The arrowheads are Spanish style, but after questioning a local fletcher, the arrows are not made in the Spanish way. The fletchings are too short, and the head is not attached in quite the same way. A good imitation, but not the same.”
Caeser slumped back into his chair, “Thank you, Antonius. You will be well rewarded for your troubles, please…” He motioned towards the door. Antonius bowed his head, and left Caeser alone with his thoughts.

Now, as the newly appointed governor overlooked his new territory, dark thoughts swirled dangerously through his head. Threats on his life from the Senate. The Spanish rebels moving an army against him, however hopeless that was. His family murdered. No, assassinated! By whom? The Senate? What in Hades was going on in Rome? The look on his face darkly mirrored the lands he overlooked in the setting sun. Dark, murky, deep.

Garcia del Estranza knelt in brief prayer. As he rose to face the Roman legions, he pushed thoughts of his wife and children from his mind. They would only distract him, and today he would need a clear head to keep from losing his head. Almost ten thousand of his Spanish brothers had gathered in defiance of the rape of their homeland, and almost ten thousand of the Roman vermin had gathered to do more killing of free men. As he looked around him, he could see the grim determination etched on the faces of his brothers, yet underneath that resolve, like a festering wound, was an unmistakable air of fear. Garcia’s thoughts broke off as battle cries rose all around him. The Romans had begun their advance!
The Romans marched forward like some unstoppable machine, shrugging aside any darts or arrows that rattled harmlessly from their huge shields. As they closed the distance, Garcia felt his pulse racing. His breath became short, and hard to catch as fear and panic tried to claim him. He let out a mighty yell, screaming his defiance to the Roman filth, and he felt better, as if he had released all the paralyzing effects of his fear to the enemy, and kept all the rage induced strength to himself. The Romans had closed enough distance now to launch their odd looking spears, tipped with long metal spikes. Garcia raised his shield and felt one spear deflect off it. Then another spear hit and Garcia jerked back as the long metal tip pierced his shield and came all the way through, stopping just short of his eye! If I hadn’t pulled my head back…. He shrugged off the thought and tried to pull the spear from his shield, but the tip had bent over and jammed; the shield was useless with a five foot spear hanging from it! He threw it to the ground in disgust, let out another yell and charged at the wall of red shields facing him.
He swung his long sword again and again, each time striking the shields before him. The damned Romans were packed in close together, each shield virtually protecting two men! He had nowhere to strike with his large sword, but the Romans had no trouble jabbing and thrusting with their short swords from in between their shields. As Garcia looked around him in frustration, he saw that his brothers were having the same problem. He had never felt this helpless in battle! He fervently wished the Romans would break ranks and fight him as God intended; one on one! Matching his skills against anothers; but the Romans did not answer his wishes, and the machine slowly drove the Spaniards back. Garcia heard cries from his right, and glancing over he was shocked to see that their flank had been broken, and the Romans were sweeping in around them. Shock gave way to outright panic when he realized that the left flank had also fallen! He heard the captain yelling orders to him, but he had seen enough to know that this fight was lost. He dropped his sword from nerveless fingers, turned and fled.

Crassus sat astride his horse, overlooking the battle with detached interest. It had been too easy; the two legions had practically walked through the rebels! After the initial assault down the middle, the two wings had swept up and around both of the enemies flanks and broken them like so many twigs. Now all that was left was to have the light cavalry round up the fleeing dogs while the infantry swept up the wounded Spaniards. A great victory, thought Crassus dryly. He almost longed for a real battle again; like the Punic wars. Now there were some battles!
How could Crassus know that his wish would soon be granted. And he would soon learn that some wishes were best left ungranted...

[Chingis Khan]

The doors to Ceaser's antechamber were thrown open with a crash to reveal Crassus; a huge grin was spread across the big man's face and he spoke with a tone of merriment and glee, "We have done it Ceaser! We crushed the Spaniards at Stonehaven and finished the resistance. Ha! Not a Spaniard in the land will think about rebellion after..." He broke off as he saw the dark expression on his dear friend's face, "What is it, Julius? More bad news from Rome?"
Ceaser leaned back in his chair and regarded Crassus silently across his expansive desk for several moments.
"What is it Julius? Tell me what is...", again Crassus was cut off as Ceaser slid a note across the desk to Crassus and continued to look at Crassus with that same bleak, expressionless gaze.
Crassus returned the look for a moment before reading what was before him,

Dear Julius,
I fear I must write you with betrayal in my heart. After all, what can hurt more then the treachery of those closest to one's heart? We will always have Rome, yet distances can be so very deceiving. What may seem so far away, can have a tremendous impact on us so quickly. realize that if you continue your present course, our future is doomed.

S

The letter slipped from Crassus' hand and he sat down heavily facing Ceaser. The silence between them stretched to eternity.
"You cannot believe that I would betray you, Julius."
Ceaser's expression turned from dark and grim to outright fury, "It seems to make sense to me know, old friend. Plots unfolding all around me, as the power I gain here in Spain increases my standing with the citizens. Senators fearful of what I may accomplish. Who better to watch me and report my plans back to the Senate then an old and trusted friend? Who better to stab me in the back? I begin to understand the stakes of this vile game now. I didn't fully appreciate the influence I had to gain with the conquering of this accursed land, yet obviously it is creating ripples that spread to the very heart of Rome, and back again to rip my life to shreds!"
By the last, Ceaser had risen his voice to the point that Crassus actually cringed back. He replied with a shocked expression that spread to his voice, "You can't believe that I would... I wouldn't... Julius, think man! How can you believe these letters? You don't even know who is sending them! Please..."
Caeser smashed his fists down on the desk so hard that the inkwells overturned and small statuettes jumped. He stood abruptly, shaking with rage, "Whoever is sending these letters is a FRIEND! A TRUE friend! Why should I doubt them when it is so blindingly clear to me now! My family murdered! And for what? Oh yes, Crassus, I know that it was Romans who committed the massacre at Little Villa! Oh yes, I KNOW! Did you have a part in that too? Such coincidence that you show up now, in the midst of this turmoil? Very convenient!"
"Please, Julius! You have known me for years! don't do this!"
Julius started to come around the desk, before visibly shaking himself; forcing control on his ire.
"GET OUT! Go Crassus, My dear friend! It is only for the sake of our past that I do not have you executed! Hanged, no less, for your treachery. But know this, you are dead to me! Set foot in this province whilst I rule, and it will be the last steps you take."
Crassus stared at his long time friend in shock and disbelief. How could Julius believe this of him! Finally, a cold rage overtook him, and his jaw set itself hard and cool, "Very well, Julius Caeser. Believe what you will. I will go. And for the sake of our friendship, I tell you this; consider the source of your information very carefully. You are caught in an intricate game with the Senate. Be careful not to aid them by folding yourself in a spider's web, for it will only benefit them."
As Julius stood, pale faced and filled with terrible rage, Crassus turned and walked out, but as he reached the door, he turned and looked Ceaser over with a gaze full of hurt, worry, and disappointment, "Whatever else, you never used to be a fool."
And then he was gone.
Ceaser sat back in his chair and stared into nothingness. Emotions ran rampant. What had he done? Were the letters sent to deceive and confuse him? No! The first had been true, and the second had rang true also! It made sense, dammit! It had to be true! It just had to be. Julius knew that he hadn't been thinking clearly since he had learned that his family had been slain; was it possible that he had misjudged? He had been so sure until he had seen the look on Crassus' face. Such emotions could not be truly falsified, could they? Ceaser buried his face in his hand and prayed to the Gods. He prayed that clarity of thought would be returned to him. He prayed that his family were safe within the Gods embrace. He prayed that he would survive this assault from Rome. He prayed. And when his servants brought him his lunch, they found Ceaser laughing uncontrollably into his hands, tears running down his grief-stricken face.

Hundreds of miles to the east, Rome.
The desk was littered with reports; mostly from the newly conquered Spanish provinces. Gnaeus sifted through each message with painstaking patience. Every move he made from now, until his plans came to fruition was vitally important. He could afford no mistakes! He had Ceaser's head on the block, but the sword had yet to be delivered.
The man must be in turmoil by now! Many months had been the planning for Julius Ceaser, and Gnaeus was counting on the man's leadership to bring his plans to a close! Crassus had been a small obstacle, but Gnaeus Pompeius was fairly sure that he had driven a wedge between the two men. He needed Ceaser alone, emotional, and most importantly, he needed Julius Ceaser paranoid of the Senate! That was the key to his plans. The Key! Surely by now Ceaser had determined that it was Romans who had committed the massacre of his family at Little Villa. And he would naturally assume that he was the victim of a plot against his further ambition in the Senate! Short-sighted fool! Gnaeus almost laughed aloud; when his plans came to bear, they would shake the very foundations of the great Roman Empire, and nobody, nobody could ever see what was coming!

Near the center of the German empire, lay the Capitol city of Berlin. An industrious city, rich with merchant's gold flowing through it. However, not much of that wealth was ever seen by the hard worked people of Germany. Most of the gold went to the King's coffers, to be used in building Germany's great war machine. It was used to raise great castles and fortresses. Such as Drachensfell.
Drachensfell was a monstrous citadel; it looked more to be a small mountain then a castle! And in the heart of Drachensfell, sat Bismark, King of Germany.
He sat in the war room, laughing over the latest message he had receive from the Roman traitor, Gnaeus Pompeius. He turned to the Grand Marshall of the Armies, "It seems as though our Roman friends' plans are going well! Ha! Roman fools! How goes the preparations?"
The Grand Marshall cleared his throat and gave his moustache a quick preen before answering in a smoothly oiled tone, "My Lord, all divisions of our armies stand fully ready. I have moved over forty thousand men to within a weeks march of the border. Close enough to move in quickly, but not close enough to alert the Romans. I have also placed five thousand heavy cavalry with the divisions. More then enough to destroy half of Rome by themselves! My spies report that the Romans rely on their infantry very heavily, and use only light cavalry. Our heavy cavalry and heavy infantry will have no problems with the Roman legions, especially if all goes to plan!"
Bismark nodded slowly before leaning back in his magnificently gilded chair and a predatory smile creased his jowls.
"Good. Soon these cultured Romans will feel the steel fist of the German empire. Soon..."


The great hall of the Senate was most impressive. Beautiful marbled floors, heated from beneath by a complex arrangement of steam pipes, were lavishly covered by finely woven carpets from the East. Fluted columns seemed to rise from the floor to meet the high, domed ceiling above.
All of this great beauty and craftsmanship was lost on the Senators, however, as they listened with grim faces to the young Senator, Gnaeus Pompeius. He spoke with eloquence and verve of a threat from one of their own.
"And so, with the evidence I have presented of the troubling actions of Julius Ceaser, I must insist, by the laws of our people, that he be bought to justice!" Looking around the Hall, Gnaeus could see many thoughtful expressions. His many months of planting seeds of doubt, and spreading whispers of Ceaser's "crimes" were paying dividends now. Time to bring a close to this phase of his plots, "Ceaser may be influential! He may have great sway with the people! He may have friends and supporters amongst us, even! But in the interest of justice, we must put aside personal biases, and let integrity take it's course. A choice between allowing one man to commit a massacre to manipulate us and gain power, and imprisoning a one time friend, is no choice at all", he turned to a middle aged Senator nearest to him, "Marcus, Julius helped you attain Mayorship of your town many years before you ascended to the Senate. He taught you much of politics, did he not? But didn't he also teach you that the law must be maintained lest anarchy rule? We have the trust of our People as Senators, and though it may grieve us, we simply have no recourse but to summon Julius Ceaser to trial for the murder of the many innocent lives at Little Villa."
He finished his oration in a soft voice, filled with just the right amount of regret. He knew that Ceaser had much support from within the Senate. He knew also that he had days of agonizing waiting before the Senate ruled on his proposal. If they should deny him, Gnaeus knew his future in the Hall was forfeit. And that was very possible, considering that his "evidence" against Ceaser was very weak; little more then conjecture and circumstance. But if they should vote in the direction he had been steering them in for months, with his rumors, manipulations, bribes, and lies... His plans would be unstoppable! But for now, he must wait. Patience. After all, time wears everything down eventually. Mountains can become hills, young, vibrant warriors become old and decrepit, and even mighty Empires can become little more then footnotes in history with time.


Julius Ceaser had been in a most foul mood in the weeks following Crassus’ departure. His local friends began making their visits rarer and shorter. Even the slaves kept their distance from him in fear of one of his outbursts. He had also become quite paranoid. Guards were spread throughout his estates; in his study, the gardens, even outside his bedchamber. He had hired a food taster, and made frequent visits to the kitchens under the pretense of inspecting cleanliness, while it was transparently obvious that he was checking on the staff. The gates to his estate had been closed for two weeks now, and Guards patrolled the walls constantly. The only visitations were set by appointment, which explained some of his friend’s reluctance to see him anymore. Whispers spread around the house with various explanations: They were going to war again. They were soon to be invaded. Assassins had been sent to kill Ceaser. And in part, they were all true. So when twenty prefects arrived some weeks later at the gates, it caused some commotion.

Ceaser sat in his antechamber, reclining the large couch staring into space, as he so often did nowadays, when two slaves burst through the doors.
“Governor Caeser! Prefects at the gates!”

Caeser stopped them with a look. He slowly set his goblet on the nearby table and stood up, straightening his robes. This news should have startled him, yet somehow, he had known this would happen. He would lay Florins that he knew what message they bought with them. “Very well, send them in. I will receive them in the Main Hall.

The word was sent to the gates, and the prefects entered, riding their travel weary mounts along the tree lined road to the front entrance of the house. They dismounted, rudely handing the reins to the servants before brushing arrogantly past the slaves, and retainers of the house, marching straight into the house and into the main hall. The Hall stretched from the antechamber about one hundred feet to the small dais that normally held statues. But Caeser had replaced those with what could only be called a small throne. And that was where he now sat. If any impression had been made on the twenty policemen from Rome, they didn’t show it. Stern-faced to a man, they marched right up to the foot of the dais before halting. One of the prefects, most likely the captain, stepped forward and handed a scroll to Julius before stepping back to stand with his men. Julius regarded the prefects for several minutes noting the hands on swords, chilly expressions, and tense stances before unbinding and reading the note.

Gaius Julius Caeser,
By order of the Supreme Magistrate, you are hereby ordered to return to Rome henceforth, relinquishing any and all duties which you may hold at this time, and immediately upon receipt of this message, to stand trial and face the accusations of the Peoples of Rome for the following crimes;
To whit: On or about the fifteenth day of March of this same year, you are charged with conducting the massacre of no less then forty seven men, women, and children at the location of Little Villa, Province thirty two, Spain. Your are accused of violating each of the very Precepts of Roman Law; To live honestly, to injure no-one, and to give every man his due.
Magistrate of Rome, Keeper of the Jurisprudence

Ultium Flavius

He read and reread the message twice with no change to his features. He had halfway expected a move of this sort, but blaming him for the massacre of his own family? He hadn’t foreseen that. Why, the entire Senate must have turned against him! And with chilling certainty, he knew that if he returned to Rome now, he would be convicted, sentenced, stripped of his title, and imprisoned. Or worse. He felt a great pressure lifting itself from his mind. He knew now what course he had to take! For the first time since he had learned of Crassus’ betrayal, his mind was clear, his way was laid out before him. He still didn’t know wether this way was the right way, but he no longer cared. He had direction! He stood with a half smile on his face, “Well. It seems I am indeed a bad, bad man, does it not?”

The captain of the prefect guard replied with a wary expression on his face, “Governor, I do not know the charges against you, nor do I wish to. My orders are simply to return you to Rome, and this I will do at all costs.” As if to add emphasis, he returned his hand to the hilt of his sword.

Caeser simply smiled more, “My dear captain. You are a good policeman. Did you know that policemen are much like soldiers? There is little difference between you and a legionnaire! You follow orders blindly, and without thought. That is good. That is what a good soldier does. But what happens if your General turns out to be incompetent; or even worse, a traitor? Do you still follow those same orders?”

An uncertain look came across the captain’s face, and he licked his lips nervously before answering, “I am a policeman, not a soldier, and the law is quite firm. The JurisPrudence guides our hands, and the guilty are punished by the Gods. Now please come with us" He started forward to escort Caeser, but was halted as Julius Caeser’s expression went from mirth to cold fury in a split second. No sane man changed moods that quickly!

Caeser flung out a hand and spoke with a voice filled with terrible rage, “The Senate is your General, prefect! And your general is corrupt! Yes, yes! The Senate is a rotten fruit poisoning the people, and I am the cure for all that filth! I will remove the rotten core from the heart of Rome! Me!”

Caeser paused to smooth his hair back and take a calming breath before going on in a normal voice, “I do not expect you to understand, captain. I have been plotted against. I have been under attack and for what purpose I do not yet know. You have heard of me, yes?”
Of course, all of the people of Rome had heard of Julius Caeser, and most loved him. Seeing the hesitation in the prefect’s eyes, Caeser took a step forward toward the captain, coming close enough to look the man face to face, “Can you believe it of the great Gaius Julius Caeser to slaughter innocents? Women and children, hmm? Yes, that is the charge, the Little Villa massacre! You should know that I show great mercy to fallen armies! I have the wounded well cared for, and the ‘slaves’ taken are given humane treatment! Can you truly believe that I would kill my own family?”

The captain cleared his throat. Looking quickly to his men before answering gave away the depth of his confusion, “Sir, I…I have my orders… I don’t know politics…”

Caeser turned away from the man with a dismissive gesture, seating himself once more. At a gesture, guardsmen stepped into the hall with bows drawn and arrows nocked, surrounding the Roman prefects. Now Caeser seemed calm, and almost regal. The prefect captain noted the many mood changes and wondered at the great general's sanity. His uncertainty increased, and he jumped a little when Caeser spoke again
"I have decided not to be arrested today, but I do not like to see good men die, so I will give you a chance to join me. You can die, nobly and foolishly following corrupt orders from a rotten Senate, or you can serve under me. I could use good policemen such as yourselves. You see, I already have former prefects working for me. Antonius Careales is one you may have heard of. He has discovered many things pertaining to the case of Little Villa which you may find… compelling. Of course I will give you all the chance to decide for yourselves after reviewing the evidence.”
The prefects, looking wildly about at the arrows directed at them, all turned as Ceaser spoke. Finally the captain spoke, “We will… we will examine this evidence. But how can we join you? We would become deserters, and the penalty for that is quite steep! More prefects would come, and we would simply join your fate.”
Ceaser smiled, happy again, “My dear Captain. I wouldn’t worry about Rome. I intend to take Rome with my loyal legions here and elsewhere. A general, a good general inspires much loyalty, you see. By the end of this campaign, I will be Emperor. That is the only way to remove the rottenness which has pervaded my beloved government!” And Ceaser laughed. “No, I wouldn’t worry much about the Senate or Rome at all!

[Metaliturtle]

a hefty read, some spacing in there would be nice, but overall a good roman conflict. Nice one. I'll probably keep reading if it stays interesting.

[Chingis Khan]

Thanks for the feedback Metaliturtle. Any criticism (or praise ) is appreciated. By the way, this story is very loosely based on the actual Roman empire. I know there are some real history guys in this forum and even I cringe at some of the historical problems with this story, so I can only imagine what some may think! Anyway, on with the story...



*****

The journey back to Rome had been long and Crassus was weary. He walked through the great marketplace barely hearing the yells and cries from hundreds of merchants hawking their wares. His thoughts were elsewhere. He still found it hard to believe that Julius had turned on him. After all they had been through! What had happened to his old friend to change him so? Julius was normally the most level-headed and strategic thinker that Crassus had ever known, a fact attested to by any number of defeated foes; be it on the battlefield or in the quagmire of Roman politics. Crassus had never seen his long time friend so... so...unhinged! Perhaps the death of his family had hit him harder than he thought. I should have reached him sooner!

Immediately he brushed that thought away; he would take no guilt on himself for Ceaser's choices! None! Could Ceaser have really lost his mind? He had definitely changed; the old Julius would never have believed a stranger's letter over Crassus. Never! He wondered about several things now, was Ceaser simply being paranoid about the attacks from the Senate? On the other hand, there was the letters after all...
Someone bumped into Crassus's ample frame overly hard in the milling mass of people and Crassus instantly turned to face him, one hand already checking his purse.

The man turned to Crassus with words of apology and submissive gestures, "...so sorry, citizen, I did not see you! Please accept my... why, my word. General Crassus! What an unexpected pleasure. I had heard that you had left Rome some time ago."

Crassus searched his mind for recollection of the finely dressed man who seemed to know him. In a second it came to him, "Ahhh, Senator Pompeius. How nice to meet you again. Our last meeting was some time ago I believe. Amost hard to believe that you remember me. And know my traveling habits."

Gnaeus answered in a smooth voice, "Forget you? One of the great generals of the Punic Wars? I am quite an admirer of your work, and you are hardly of no consequence in this 'small town'! As for the other, I make it my business to keep informed of a variety of trivial information, please take no offence that I knew you had visited Ceaser. How is Julius doing, anyway?"

Crassus stared at the Senator for so long that Gnaeus began to think that he had miscalculated his tactics. He was furiously working on a new tact when Crassus sighed. His huge body seemed to sag, "Julius is not doing so well I'm afraid. Little Villa seems to have hit him quite hard. Are you a family friend of the Ceasers Senator?"

Gnaeus barely kept the relief from his voice, "Oh yes. I am quite close with Julius. Terrible business that massacre, and worse still that they have accused Julius of conducting it himself! Can you imagine..."

"WHAT! What have you heard!?! Tell me, man!" Crassus had fairly roared into life, grabbing Pompieus by the arms.

Gnaeus shook himself free, "Well. Just like I said. Julius has been summoned to stand trial for the massacre at Little Villa. Of course he is innocent. He is undoubtedly the victim of some elaborate conspiracy from the Senate, after all, no sane man could ever slaughter his own family, could he?"Crassus just stared at the Senator.

"Look, I am sorry to be the one bring such news to you. I thought that you had heard... Please, won't you allow me to bring you to my home? News like this should be followed by a good bout with wine."

Crassus, mind still racing to digest this latest development, mumbled his assent, and the two men, one Ceaser's greatest friend, and the other Ceaser's most dangerous enemy went to drink together.
And on the inside, Gnaeus Pompeius laughed. Oh, how he laughed.

***

A soft breeze swept across the moonlit landscape and the campfires of Legions IV and XII flickered gently. The Spanish weather was one thing about this land that all of the legionnaires would miss. Cool nights and sunny days, Just like Rome. The legions were camped about a mile from the city; far enough not to cause trouble, but close enough for convenience. Talk from the soldiers drifted into the breeze.

One legionnaire with a huge scar running the length of his face and neck, chewed on a chicken leg as he leaned into his companions around the fire, “Bloody Ceaser and his planned march against Rome! I don’t like this at all! He’s getting us into a bloody Civil War! I don’t know about you whelps, but I have family in Rome, I do. It’s like fighting your own bloody family! It’s not right, I tell you.”

One of the others disagreed, “I may not have family in Rome, but a civil war would affect most corners of the Empire. I still think the general is doing what’s right,” he paused as he chewed down some maize, “I mean, seriously, do you think he done what they accused him of? Killing his own family, and all? No way. I fought under Ceaser in the last wars, and he looks after us, you know what I mean?”

Scarface replied heatedly, “Yeah? So what? I still say it’s wrong. Let the bloody Senate hang him for all I care. If it saves civil bloody war, then I say it’s worth it!”

A new figure emerged from the darkness into the firelight. “Mind if I join you fellows?” The legionnaires jumped to their feet as they recognized the uniform of a centurion. A big centurion.

“No, no lads; as you were. Relax. Hey, hand me some of that chicken, will you. Thanks.”

Silence descended on the group as it usually does when rank joins an unknown group of regulars. The centurion took a large bite of the chicken and began to speak, occasionally pointing with the chicken breast for emphasis, “Now then, my lads. I couldn’t help but overhear what you all were discussing. And you all have some mighty fine points to make. After all, what fool would blindly follow a man into Civil War, eh? Heavy business that; so what that the Senate wants to try and convict the great Julius Ceaser. Why not sacrifice the man for the greater good,” he leaned in to the group of men, gesturing with the chicken, “But then again, what is the greater good? Why are battles fought at all? Why follow one man’s orders to kill, oh, I don’t know, Spaniards? And refuse another man’s orders to kill someone else? A soldier’s life should be a simple thing, my lads. Go where they say go, kill who they say kill, and collect a nice paycheck at the end of it all. General Ceaser, is probably the greatest of all Roman Generals alive today. And a damned fine man. I personally would follow that man to the gates of hell, and that may well be where this particular adventure ends. Because, my lads, not only are we following our general for something as base as loyalty, but because the greater good lays behind him! Confused? Then mull on this. How are we defending Rome, if we allow it’s system to break down into chaos? If the Senate can pluck a man like Julius Ceaser from his house and decide to convict him for an unspeakable crime with absolutely no evidence, then how is any one of us safe from that system? You have all seen the evidence collected from Ceaser’s prefects. Can you dispute that? Can you? You see, my young lads, back in the early days of Rome, we had a system similar to what I just described. Pure chaos. No real laws beyond that which the emperor decided on any given day. The people of Rome gave voice to their feelings and a Senate was created The Senate. A group of men that came from the people, and was for the people. When did they become a class apart, hmm? Is the Senate for us anymore, or are they so wrapped up in their own petty squabbles, that the people of Rome get forgotten? Ceaser knows how rotten the Senate has become. Would it be so bad to remake the Senate in it’s intended form. What it was, for a time? Hmm, well, just some things to think on, my lads. Thanks for the chicken.”

With that Centurion Glavius got to his feet and disappeared into the night, leaving behind a group of very thoughtful legionnaires.

***

The Great Hall of the Senate. Tiers of seats were arranged in a large oval around the speaking floor, all arranged in front of the emperor’s chair. Large fluted columns rose from the marbled floor all around, and set in between those, sat plinths carrying busts of past emperors. Great tapestries from many lands adorned the walls; even the walls themselves were practically works of art. The emperor had no power in the Senate, and in fact, on the rare occasion that he sat in, was not even supposed to speak, according to custom. Except in times of war.

And on this day, the great general Julius Caeser, Conqueror and Governor of the Spanish provinces, Victor of the Punic Wars, and alleged mass murderer, had declared war on the Senate of Rome. A strange declaration, to wage war on a group of men, but Gnaeus Pompeius thought it to be a very shrewd move on Caeser’s part. By declaring war on the Senate, and not on Rome, he would garner a great deal more respect and loyalty from the legions he would lead into civil war. After all, even considering the fact that a large portion of the legions had never even been to Rome, let alone had family there, it would still be difficult to convince men to attack their own country! But Gnaeus knew that Caeser would be able to do it. He was probably the only man in all of Rome popular enough, and smart enough, who could do it: the very reason that Gnaeus had chosen Caeser to be his puppet. He shifted on the cushioned bench as he listened with half an ear to the furious discussions of the panicked Senate.

Oh yes, his plans were rapidly coming to fruition. Pompeius knew that at least seven of the legions were totally loyal to Caeser. The two legions that were in Spain, two on the French border, one on the German border and another two located to the east. Those last two legions had already been reported as marching west to join with Caesar. There may be two or three more legions loyal to Caesar, but none of that really mattered. It was enough of a threat, especially under the command of the great Julius Caeser to seriously endanger the Senate, Rome, and the Emperor. And with the Senate panicked and under attack, Gnaeus would allow Caeser to win some small victories on the way to the city of Rome, before “saving” everyone from the madman. Then would the Germans pour from the North to crush Caeser’s legions, led by Pompeius himself!

His ‘diplomatic skills’ of allying with the Germans, and then general ling their armies would serve two purposes; one, he would rid himself of Ceaser, his biggest political threat, and the second purpose would be to use the political power he would gain to catapult himself into the emperors throne! Ha! Once on the throne of Rome, the people would soon discover what real power could do. The Senate? Gnaeus sneered, as he looked about him to see this pathetic group of old men arguing amongst themselves. How could any nation function when there were too many leaders? No, one nation, one leader! That was the only way. And he would be that leader! Emperor Gnaeus Pompeius! The greatest emperor Rome would ever see. Of course, there would be a price to pay to Bismark. All the German King had asked for in return for his ‘aid’ was control of the newly captured Spanish lands! A barren, godless land filled with troublesome barbarians; let him have it!

Then again, Emperor Pompeius may just crush the Germans once the legions were reunited under one standard. That was for another time though. Regardless of what comes after, Emperor Gnaeus Pompeius would have Rome; the most cultured, civilized, and powerful nation on earth. Of course, there was just one other, small, price to pay; the total destruction of a fine and noble man, Julius Caeser. And it had been all too easy to drive him to rebellion! Arranging the massacre of Little Villa to get Caeser to go to Spain had been nothing. Once Julius was out of Rome, his manipulation just got easier. And of course, the death of one's loved ones tended to soften a target; necessary to one so tough as Caeser. The letters he had sent Julius (signed S for Senate) had been filled with just enough truth to be believed, and just enough conspiracy to set Caeser's paranoia. Ha! It had all gone so perfectly! He had used one of the great general's tactics against him! When an enemy is strong, isolate and weaken him; when an enemy is weak, surround and crush him. Once Caeser had been primed, along with the Senate with months of hard work, it was a simple matter to turn the Senate against him, and him against the Senate. The outcome of that had been predictable enough; as current events showed!

That fool Crassus had almost ruined things, but it had been a simple matter to drive the already paranoid Caeser to distrust him. And now, just to be cautious, Gnaeus had found Crassus and driven a wedge into his heart also! If he could convince Crassus that Caeser had committed the murders... Well, that really served no purpose to Gnaeus besides proving his formidable manipulative skills. He supposed he could use Crassus as a General for some of the legions, he really was quite a capable leader...

And soon would come the relatively easy task of convincing the Senate to allow him to utilize his special methods to deal with Caeser. Gnaeus allowed a smile to creep across his features as the crusty old men of the Senate, rambled on and on in their arguments of the defense of Rome. Soon enough, he would have to listen to their drivel no more; their time in power was surely coming to a close.

***

The morning sun threw aside the half-light of dawn, revealing a macabre scene of broken and twisted bodies. The rotten stench of death drifted from the fields; the only movements to be seen were those of the carrion eaters, drawn to this grisly site in droves. Caeser was already awake, in truth, he had only slept a few fitful hours, and was now staring blankly across yesterday’s battlefield. First contact with any sizable force; it had hardly been a battle at all, more of a slaughter. Caeser’s scouts had come across the force early in the morning and Julius knew that it was part of the force set to burn the land as the rest of the legion withdrew to join other forces. Too much of the land he had crossed thus far had been fired, and it was becoming harder to feed the men.

Of course, it was always the same in war and Julius Caeser well knew that the larger part of leading an army to victory lay in the logistics. Hungry men did not fight well. Poorly made weapons and armor just got men killed. Horses with no shoes performed badly. Men that had marched for days on end needed rest. The list was endless, but from the smallest details, victory could be assured. One of the reasons his soldiers loved him was the simple fact that he looked after their needs so well, never suspecting that the real reason was that by looking after his men, he made them a superior fighting unit!

Caeser did remember a time when he looked after his men through sheer compassion, but that seemed so very long ago. As he stared at the carnage before him, he tried hard to feel something… anything, any small spark of the humanity he once had. Even satisfaction would be better then the nothingness he experienced now. Once he would have let this small group go; let them flee back to their legion. But instead he had ordered for them to be swept up like so many dried leaves in the wind. He examined his own dispassionate heart with a detached curiosity as he stood looking over the bodies of his own countrymen. Soon the medicine tents would be done patching up his wounded men, and the field would be scavenged for anything usable. Then his army would continue its inexorable march against Rome. Caeser idly wondered if he would feel anything when he breached the walls of the great city.

[Metaliturtle]

Believe it or not I'm one of the history guys, finding stuff wrong historically makes me a lot sharper on the time period, keep putting the incorrect stuff up Chingis

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Its great!! and its even better to see you back with another story please keep the goods coming.

[Samuel Johnson]

I enjoyed this as well. I assume this is leading up to a conflict between Crassus and Ceasar.

[Easthaven I]

I'm entertained. I've bookmarked this story and will be waiting for the next showing. You can never get too much Ceasar, especially if you write good stories such as this.