"...The bells for Christ Mass echoed inside the dome of Constantinople's Church of St. Sophia. The Emperor Justinian knelt and gave thanks for the year 529, Anno Domini. Peace held with the old enemy, Persia. The War in the West went well, too. Belisarius and Narses had reduced the Vandal's African possessions to their besieged capital, Carthage, and one province. And, praise God, the eastern steppes were secure as well. The empire's soldiers had erased the menace of the Hunnic kingdom forever. Far to the north, the worrisome growth of Slavic power had been temporarily checked by the empire's Gepid allies. In the distant West, though, the Visigoths grew in might, swallowing up large tracts of Frankish, and now Ostrogothic, land. Would the New Year see them march as enemies against the empire? Justinian prayed for another year of God's grace, equal to the last..."
A Frankish Kingdom, Cornered
A feeling of desperation was seeping through the Frankish kingdom. Their enemies, the Visigoths seemed to be herding them, cutting off first this corner, then that corner of their realm. Soon, they would have no land left to stand on. The Frankish king knew he had to strike out, to take the war to his enemies. He ordered Goderic to march from Lugdunensis and invade the Visigoth-held Breton lands. Goderic faced a young warlord, Vortigeric, who collected the scattered Visigoth garrisons and galloped to meet him. Once again, though, the Visigoth horse trooper proved superior to the Frankish warband. Goderic's men were routed and streamed back into Lugdunensis. Many that had marched to Breton with determination lay dead on the road of their retreat, cut down by the Visigoth pursuit.
Border Raid Avenged
Angered by the Ostrogoth's unprovoked border last season, the Visigothic King ordered his warlord Iadoric to invade Liguria. He was met in the steep hills by Usdrilas, the local Ostrogoth commander. As they deployed, Iadoric noticed the Ostrogoths divide their cavalry evenly onto either flank of their spear phalanx. Iadoric weighted his left wing with nearly all of his horsemen, hoping to overwhelm them there. His warbands were deployed opposite the Ostrogothic spears, supported by two troops of cavalry. Usdrilas saw the danger immediately and began to shift his troops. However, the Visigothic attack proved too swift -- the redeployment was not complete when the battlelines met. Iadoric's horsemen drove the Visigoths back steadily towards their camp. Meanwhile, the warbands, thrown back twice by the Ostrogoth phalanx, finally burst through, chasing the Ostrogoths from the field. The foothills of the western Alps now belonged to the growing Visigothic empire.
Fall of a Kingdom
Scipuar the Burgundian had been itching to strike back against the Visigoths, who had conquered the southern half of his kingdom. When the Ostrogothic king married off one of his daughters to Scipuar, and added a talent of silver as dowry, the bridegroom was more than happy to listen to the Ostrogoth suggestion of war against the Visigoths. However, as he was assembling his army, riders arrived with news of a first strike by the Visigoth warlord Bordoric. He marched quickly to meet them. Scipuar formed his much larger army into a shieldwall and rumbled forward. Dust clouds on the right heralded the arrival of the Visigothic cavalry, cresting a hill, and charging towards his right. Scipuar turned his men to meet the threat, but then the enemy's light troops entered the fray, swarming around the flanks of his warbands. In the dusty gloom, an arrow flashed and struck Scipuar in the throat. He fell, unable to choke out orders to his rapidly surrounded battleline. Leaderless, and unused to the speed of the Visigothic attack, the Burgundians fell back. Bordoric's troopers pursued and broke the disheartened Burgundians. With Scipuar's fall, his army and kingdom were lost.
A Delaying Action
The ships had been coming for days, but the Vandal warleader Geleric knew more had to arrive. The massive army of his cousin, Huneric, was ferrying across the Mediterranean to Italy. However, Totila and the Ostrogoths were on the move and Geleric had been ordered to invade Tuscia, slowing them down with a preemptive strike. Geleric's outnumbered men charged hard, though. At one point, it looked as if the battle might go their way. Superior numbers began to tell, though. Totila's army drove the Vandals from the field. Their losses were sufficient, though, for Totila to wait till Spring before continuing southward. Geleric's delaying action had done the job and Huneric had arrived in force on the Italian peninsula.
A City and Kingdom Besieged
The Vandal warlord, Ammatas, trotted his horse up and down the lines of his troopers, shouting. "There!" he pointed, "Our capital, Carthage, besieged by bloody Belisarius! But more, what lies beyond Belisarius?" The troopers squinted into the haze, uncertain. "The sea, men! If we drive him off, his army has nowhere to go -- they drown in the sea! Let us drown bloody Belisarius in the sea, THE SEA!" The chant of "The Sea!" was taken up by the Vandals as they cantered to their positions. When all others had brought home defeat, lately, Ammatas had won victory over the Byzantines. They would drive the Byzantines into the sea for Ammatas, for Carthage. When the battlelines met, it appeared as if the Vandals would win. The Byzantine light troops were hurled back by their Vandal counterparts. Vandal horsemen burst through the Byzantine cavalry, threatening envelopment. And the Vandals opposite the Byzantine phalanx held back, not dashing themselves futilely against the spears, like in previous battles. But the battle for the relief of Carthage proved that despite a general's plans, despite the valor of the troops, victory is also won by those upon whom fortune smiles. And that day, in addition to being Justinian's favorite, Belisarius was Fortune's favorite. The Byzantine army held off in the face of the attack, then pressed here and there, routing one Vandal company, cutting down another. Victory was won by the slimmest of margins, and Ammatas was forced to call a retreat. However, inspired by the brave show of its army, the garrison of Carthage continued to hold off Belisarius' engineers. One province and one city were all that held out of the Vandal's once numerous African possessions.
Lost in the Hills
When Narses looked out over the range of hills, he shuddered. How does one fight a battle among these peaks, he wondered? The only consolation was that the Vandal commander, Gaeseric, would suffer the same problems as he. So, Narses picked out the least steep area in front of him to deploy his troops. Gaeseric obliged by marching towards the same patch of valley, surrounded by rolling or steep hills on all sides. It was a cramped battle, with Vandal horsemen charging into Byzantine spearmen or clashing with Narses' horse troopers. Initially, it looked as if the Vandal elan might carry the day, as several units broke on the Byzantine side. However, Narses second line surrounded and cut down over-eager Vandal pursuers. With the Vandal spearhead chopped off, the rest of the army dashed itself futilely against the Byzantine soldiers. Seeing the day was lost, Gaeseric ordered a retreat. With Mauretania gone, the Vandal kingdom was down to one province in Africa.
The Peril of the Huns
General Maurice, rising in favor with both the emperor and his commander Belisarius, had faced the Huns twice before. He knew them to be a dangerous foe, so much so that Justinian had ordered the last enclave of them in Kutrigur to be eradicated. When he met the Hunnic army, he deployed his infantry on the right and his cavalry on the left. He kept a couple troops of light cavalry and impetuous horse back for a sweeping movement around the right flank, hoping to catch the Hunnic chieftain Sandal off guard. Sandal seemed undeterred, and closed to contact quickly. A large force of light horse encircled the Byzantine cavalry, pouring onto the flank and rear. Meanwhile, a line of mixed cavalry and light horse charged Maurice's troopers from the front. The Byzantine left began to collapse quickly. Maurice counterattacked, though, and the Huns began to take losses from the heavier Byzantine horsemen. When Maurice's flank march arrived, the Huns had only scattered troops to sent piecemeal to stop it. It was this force that turned the tide, although Maurice knew it had been a near thing. The last tribes of the Huns were conquered. The Empire could rest safely.
Next in Line
Rumors of war and slaughter drifted closer and closer to the Bavarian borders. The Slavic wave of conquest soon lapped up against the borders of Noricum. When he was certain the Slavs were marching, Theodoric the Bavarian mustered his army and awaited them in the forest. He formed his troops in a rough square in front of their camp, hoping to hold off the swift-moving enemy. The Slavs of the warleader Santilaus were too experienced in war, and too fast to be defeated by a static defense like Theodoric's. They surrounded and swarmed over the Bavarians, routing them. Noricum became simply the next province that the Slavic migration rolled over.
Silver Spurs Invasion
After last season's slaughter of a Slavic invasion, the Gepids were in high spirits. The dark forests of Dneister and its great river seemed a little barrier. When their Ostrogothic allies sent a talent of silver to the warlord Elemendus, that was all the encouragement needed for them to ride. Fording the river, they looted and burnt Slavic villages until they encountered the army of the local warlord, Zwentibald. The battlefield was dotted with large areas of woods, with clearings between. Elemendus watched Zwentibald divide his forces among the gaps in the woods. To oppose the Slavic skirmishers, Elemendus sent his warbands. The main Slavic battleline, he rode against himself with most of his cavalry. The remainder were sent to loop around the battlefield and storm the Slavic camp. A shoving match between the warbands and skirmishers quickly bogged down into a stalemate. Meanwhile, Elemendus cavalry crashed through the ranks of the loose-ordered Slavs, slaying Zwentibald. The unengaged sections of the Slavic battleline folded in on the Gepid cavalry, trapping several bands of horsemen. Then Elemendus' flank march arrived, and the Slavic camp was overrun. Disheartened, the Slavs fled the field, while the elated Gepids marched to complete the conquest of Dneister.
Yuletide Hate
Meetings had been held in secret for months, weapons forged and hidden, awaiting the day. As Mid-Winter day dawned, the conquered Saxons rose up against their Slavic overlords. "As stubborn as a Saxon," was the saying, and the men of Germania were out to prove its truth again. The rebel army cut off and stormed a few Slavic garrisons before the local warlord, Piastes, collected a force to meet them. They met in the thick of the snow-laden forests. Not awaiting their foes, like in times past, the Saxons instead swarmed to the attack, pushing back the Slavic battleline. Their foes, used to victory, fought back just as fiercely, pouring around the vulnerable flanks of the Saxon shieldwall. The Slavic warlord Piastes fell to a Saxon woodcutter's ax, and disappeared beneath a press of warring men. Both armies took grievous losses, and continued fighting after many others would have broken. Saxon will finally broke when two companies of Slavic warriors charged into the rear of their battleline, shattering its solidity. Confused and fragmented, the Saxons broke and melted away into the forests. The exhausted Slavs cheered themselves hoarse in relief, and then shouted even louder when Piastes was found to be just wounded, not slain. Germania, bloody Germania, remained in their hands.
Hard Fighting, Hard Dying
As his army advanced on the village of Demstein, the Slavic warlord Kawalskus
finally received news of the Saxon rebels. They were drawn up behind the
village and a gentle ridge on his left. The province of Rhenus had been
in flames for two weeks as the Saxon revolt raged, and now, he had finally
tracked them down. He sent a few companies of skirmishers up the ridge to
slow down any Saxon battleline that tried to seize it. Meanwhile, he ordered
his cavalry to circle the village while several bands of Slavs marched in
and occupied it. Two groups of Saxon skirmishers tried to contest the village,
but the infantry chased them out, then they were ridden down by the Slavic
cavalry. The Saxon battleline finally crested the hill, chasing off Kawalskus'
own skirmishers. His own faster-moving line awaited them on level ground,
while the cavalry and their infantry escorts circled to hit the Saxons in
the flank. When the battlelines clashed, it was a even fight. Across most
of the front, the Saxons began to push Kawalskus' line back. But at the
crucial juncture where the Saxons had turned to meet the flanking movement,
the Slavs won the push. The battle wore on until the Saxon losses grew too
great, and the rebel army broke. Kawalskus knew why the Slavic commanders
whispered to one another of their respect for Saxon tenacity. Though nearly
always victorious against them, they always died hard.