Vae Victis -Germania II
Trained Integrity of the Broken

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Castra Prima
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Verius Tiberius Julianus stood on the ramparts of Castra Prima of Western Germania Superior in the most western and northern tribal territory. The sun beat down on the drying grasses surrounding the castra while the trees of the nearby forests wrestled with the wind. Tiberius stood recalling the most recent events of the campaign. First he remembered how with the aid of many commanders he was able to secure this territory from the rule of the Marcomanni tribe. Since that battle, he set to the construction of intricate networks connecting outposts, castrae and supply lines; increasing scouting frequency and radius; as well as eliminating one tribal threat at a time so that blunders of the past would not recur. Tiberius also thought of the recent victory by Curtius Thrax over the Vandals and his transfer to the Belgican front. He would need to set to the task of rebuilding that provincial area as a recent victory had established temporary peace. This event made Tiberius both confident in the gaining momentum of the Northern Campaign and saddened to have lost such a capable leader.

Increasing the commander’s enthusiasm was the recent report given him by Legate Marius Vitellius of his successful plot to assassinate Cniva. Now that the Germanic tribes were feeling the strength of Rome and central command lost with the death of Cniva, Tiberius found it appropriate to send emissaries to the four remaining tribes within Western Germania Superior: the Cherusci based in Valkhof, Ubii in the central regions, the Alamanni south of the Cherusci main forces, and the Helvetti whose troops march closely with the Cherusci. Messengers were also sent to those tribes north of the Rhine and those in Eastern Germania Superior. He sent capable men to negotiate terms of withdrawal and assimilation to these leaders one week previous and was awaiting word from his representatives.

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Plains near Valkhof
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Romulus Fortunus Julianus moved along with his cohort of cavalry, through one of the few wide-open spaces of Western Germania Superior. The brutal winds stung at his cheeks, as he traveled along the path, far ahead of his troops. In the distance, Fortunus sighted a near equal number of German horses, milling around, with little to do. Fortunus heard his men talking, busily, behind him, their attention suddenly aroused by the sight of so many German warriors in one spot.

Fortunus looked behind at his men, with a wide, jovial smile. Most of the men laughed, as they had become accustomed to their Legate’s habitual eccentricities over the last few weeks. Fortunus waved at his men, giving them the thumbs up in excitement, as he pointed to the mass of Germans at the far end of the area.

No command for a charge was given, nor did the Romans rush into the woods for cover. Instead, they kept their pace, heading straight for the German horsemen. This was not a mission for blood.

The Roman horsemen soon stopped while Fortunus continued with two accompanying officers toward the halfway point in the field. Likewise, three German riders rode out to meet his delegation. The legate came to a spot, as the form of the most prominent rider became clearer. Fortunus watched, with avid excitement, as he squinted to make out the sight of one of most famous barbarians of the world.

The entire area was silent, except for the distant sounds of so many German and Roman horsemen on the field. Fortunus listened to the winds, hoping for some whisper from Venus to enlighten him in his discussions with the German prince. The legate nodded his head at Cniva, as the prince stopped within a few yards from the Roman.

Silence permeated the area. Fortunus studied the features of the man before him. After a time, the Roman spoke, as a great childish smile crossed his face. “You are most impressive, Cniva! Or, you are Cniva, right?” he asked, inching his horse closer.

Cniva’s face bore the same stern expression. “Yes, that would be me, young Roman,” said the German, in nearly perfect Latin.

“You speak well!” exclaimed Fortunus.

“I was taught well,” said Cniva.

“Ah, yes, I heard of the stories, of ‘educated’ Germanii,” said Fortunus. Pausing for a moment, the Roman continued, “My name is Romulus Fortunus Julianus, a-”

“A representative of the Proconsular Legate, Verius Tiberius Julianus, yes, I know,” said Cniva. He continued, pointing over his shoulder as he spoke, “I had that tent raised, so that we could speak, in private, away from our men,” said the German.

Suddenly Fortunus’ jovial expression turned to a gaze that could only befit a serpent. “I feel rather comfortable here, Cniva.”

The German looked at the Roman, the wind snapping at his hair. “Well, you are wise to be cautious. But it was your Proconsular Legate who summoned this meeting, and I do not prefer to discuss such drastic matters in the middle of a field, shouting over the wind,” said Cniva. “Isn’t this no place for statesmen to meet?” he continued.

Fortunus smiled, bearing his teeth, holding back a laugh. It was clear this German was attempting to build himself some sort of fame, some sort of a career, some kind of a name. For a half-nomadic barbarian prince to declare himself a statesman was quite an arrogant move, indeed. “Well, then, Cniva, I should only hope to please Your Majesty,” said Fortunus, hiding any hints of sarcasm.

Cniva looked back at the Roman, obviously confused by the odd nature of the man. Fortunus continued, “But first you must send your horsemen away, at the far end of the field, for the moment. You may go with them, if you’d like, for I will send my cohort to the area around the tent, to inspect it.” Fortunus paused.

“And?” said Cniva.

“And then, when it is deemed safe, I will lead my men to the far end of the field. When you sight us there, I would be pleased if you would accompany your men to a comparable location on the field. You and I will meet up, and ride, alone, to the tent, to have our discussion,” said Fortunus.

Cniva thought for a moment, “And what of the other commanders of the Germanii forces? Would you not like for them to know your commanders’ terms so we may accurately report them to Arminius?”

“That will due Cniva. I shall meet with you and the commanders of your forces while I bring advisors of my own,” Fortunus stated with mixed emotions. Cniva was trying to hide the death of their leader. Fortunus then smiled knowing Cniva was unaware that Fortunus had the knowledge of Arminius’ assassination.

Cniva thought once again, squinting in the early morning light. Looking behind, at his men, he nodded. “Alright, that will work. You exhibit an unusual amount of caution for a Roman,” said Cniva. Fortunus smiled brightly, and rode back to his men.

For the next few minutes, Cniva and his men cleared the proximity of the tent, as Fortunus and his cohort inspected the area, searching for any signs of traps or tricks. Proconsular Legate Verius Tiberius Julianus had instructed Fortunus carefully, on all he was to lay on the table for Cniva. This was to be a cautious move. The Romans were now in the superior position in the region, and the commanders of the legions were willing to offer clemency to Cniva, to save barbarian blood.

After a time, the several hundred Roman cavalry stared over at several hundred German horsemen. Many of the Germans laughed, and pointed at the Romans. One bold young barbarian jumped off his horse, and squatted, mimicking the battle movements of a Roman legionnaire, obviously insulting the Latin race’s height. Most of the Romans just watched, taking in the stature of the Germans. It was rare that one could actually look at free German warriors, without being in the heat of battle. These Germans really were bigger than the Romans, some of them being well over six feet in height. They were characteristically light skinned, and most of them held light brown, to blonde colored hair.

Fortunus realized the stark difference between Germanic and Latin stature, as he dismounted his horse and walked alongside Cniva into the tent. The structure was simple, a far cry from the warmed tents used in Roman officer camps, but it did shield the pair from the wind and cold outside. Fortunus immediately noticed that there were no tables or chairs.

Cniva immediately began speaking. “So, I received your Proconsular Legate’s first few messengers, asking for a meeting to discuss the current situation. This shows, to me, that he either has something to offer me, or Rome is in a difficult situation.”

Fortunus immediately responded. “This great occasion was brought on by Verius Tiberius Julianus, not out of weakness, but out of kindness. Rome is always willing to show clemency to cooperative subordinates,” said Fortunus.

Cniva shook his head. “Rome, so haughty, on thee, some day shall come, oh haughty Rome, a fitting stroke from heaven,” hissed the German, his eyes narrowing as he spoke the omen. Fortunus could not help but feel taken aback by the evil, yet poetic, omen. “Thou the first shall bend the neck, be leveled to the earth, and fire shall utterly consume thee,” continued Cniva. “And thou shalt become all desolate, as though thou hadst not been. And then, as the gods laugh,” said the German, moving closer to Fortunus, “On thy sight shalt wolves and foxes dwell.”

The two men stood, as silence permeated the room. Finally, Fortunus spoke up, “Those are not wise words, Cniva, for you-”

Cniva laughed, interrupting the Roman’s retort. “Do you know where I heard that, Fortunus?” asked the German. Without a pause for an answer, he continued. “I heard that from Arminius on several occasions. He took it from a meeting he had with the Dacians, some years ago. They were discussing commerce, and such, and the issue of Rome and her growth came up. Both came to the conclusion that nearly all the world has come to look at Rome with disgust. On that evening, a Dacian noble read to be an omen he had heard, taken from a Macedonian priest. Those words have stayed with me ever since,” said Cniva.

“Oh?” muttered Fortunus.

Cniva smiled, softly, at the Roman. “They are most prophetic.”

Fortunus looked at Cniva, his features still like the gaze of an ancient statue. After a moment, his lips turned upward, in a crooked smile, and he let out a laugh that nearly shook the entire tent. The German was, yet again, baffled by the behavior of the Roman. Finally, Fortunus spoke up. “I like you, Cniva. You are definitely intimidating. And, yes, it is prophetic, in that one day I’m sure Rome will meet her doom, as all nations do,” said the Roman. “But I sure as hell know we won’t receive our doom from you and your people!” laughed Fortunus.

Cniva smiled, and let out a chuckle. “Perhaps not,” he said.

Very quickly, Fortunus broke all his tension with his laughter, as he realized that he was not dealing with a sub-human barbarian who was only capable of murder. Fortunus quickly sat down, on the ground, motioning for Cniva, his men, and the Roman officers to sit. “We have pressing matters to discuss, Cniva. Rome offers you, and your people, her clemency. If you and your army leave Western Germania Superior, crossing the Rhine, to never return to our territory again, we need not fight.”

Cniva looked at the Roman. “Your territory? This is our territory!” said Cniva. This was true for the Helvetti tribe occupied the lands opposite Valkhog on the northeastern shores of the Rhine.

Fortunus broke his gaze from Cniva, to search for the correct way to handle the situation. It was foreign land. Rome had invaded territory that was home to thousands of indigenous peoples. “Yes, it was your territory, Cniva. But our Emperor found it necessary to further Rome’s dominion, for security. Pressing Rome’s control to the western bank of the Rhine serves our national interest. We have no need for more bloodshed, when we have obtained our objective.” Fortunus paused, and then continued. “You have my word, Prince, that Rome has no business, north and east of the Rhine.”

Cniva shook his head. “You have nothing to bargain with, you have not destroyed us, decisively in battle. My army rests, out here, waiting to fight!”

“Then why has Arminius not led his men into open combat? Please, Cniva let me be frank. Your troops are decades, if not centuries, behind ours in training, skill, and devotion. Our men are professional soldiers, our legions, capable of efficiency beyond your wildest dreams. Rome’s legions have defeated Phoenician chariots, Macedonian phalanxes, and every European tribe that has come our way, from the Lusitani, to the Gauls, and now, to you,” said Fortunus. Pausing for a moment, he continued. “You, your Dacian friends, you are right. I am a realistic Roman, Cniva, and I can see that you are a practical man, capable only of rational thought.”

“Rome is haughty. And, one day, many years from now, some greater, more civilized people will run through our streets in a day of conquest.”

Cniva opened his mouth to speak, but Fortunus continued. “But, on this day, Rome is the premiere of the world. Our troops are superior to all others. And, the will of the Emperor will be heard through every village, city, and wilderness in the known world,” said Fortunus. The Roman paused, and grabbed a fistful of soil, displaying it to Cniva as he continued speaking. “I am practical too, Cniva. And I realize that Rome has taken this part of Germania. Your villages are burned, civilians are slaughtered, and food supplies are gone. Your men are starving. They are angry,” said Fortunus. The German sat in silence, his mind swimming with thoughts.

“And do not think I don’t know of your plans. You are very powerful, amongst the tribes. But you are not all powerful. You only control a single faction. And now the one man who could have united the Germanii is dead.” Cniva’s face turned pale as he discovered the Roman knew of Arminius’ death. “There are many, within the Helvetti, who would love to see you toppled from power. They believe you waged destruction by allying with Arminius and not Rome. The longer you wait out here, the more they will hear of Rome creating chaos, west of the Rhine. The longer you wait out here, avoiding our troops, the longer your men starve, and the less they will be willing to fight,” said Fortunus.

“And, do not think that Rome will not fight your army, openly. You, no doubt, heard of the attempt by Julius Daia to attack your troops while encamped,” said the Roman. Cniva stared back, blankly still trying to gather his thoughts.

“You have nowhere to go. If you fight, you will lose everything. You will be captured, and paraded around Rome, only to be executed in front of thousands of screaming plebs,” said Fortunus.

“But, if you leave, if you cross that river,” said Fortunus, pointing in the direction of the Rhine, “you will be able to do whatever political business you see fit, and you can bring the tribes under your control. It is only a matter of time before you will be a king…” said the Roman, pausing for effect. “Not only will you be a king of the Helvetti, but a king of Germania.”

Cniva smiled, and spoke up. “But how can I trust a people who would invade Western Germania, the homeland of my tribe, suddenly and deliberately without negotiations?” asked Cniva.

“The Emperor finds it hard to negotiate with dozens of tribes. It would be much easier to negotiate with a king, of your race, of all the tribes,” said Fortunus.

“Oh?”

“Well, the Emperor has respected the wishes of the King of Seluecia. And that man is an utter fool,” said Fortunus. “You are a much brighter ruler.”

The discussion continued on, as Fortunus tried to master his oratory enough to convince the German that the war was lost on their part, in Western Germania, and that true gains could be made if he chose to move beyond the Rhine. For the most part, Cniva was silent, taking in all the Roman had to say. Fortunus felt encouraged by the silence of his counterpart; in that it signified that the German had little to bargain with. It was his negotiation to lose. Finally, when Fortunus finished spelling out Rome’s offer, Cniva sat, in silence.

The German stood, in the tent, and wandered outside. Fortunus stood, and followed. The wind had turned fiercer, as mid-morning was turning to afternoon. Cniva stood and watched his horsemen, and then moved his eyes over to the armored, well-fed, and thickly muscled Roman cavalry. Turning his eyes from the soldiers, the German looked down to Fortunus. Cniva broke the silence, “I must consult with my commanders alone. Give us one hour by which time we will have an answer.”

Fortunus responded, “Very well Cniva. Take what time you need to make this decision. But know that if you refuse there will be no other offer quite as kind as what Tiberius Julianus has allowed me to present to you today.” With that Fortunus took his escort and awaited word from the German commanders amongst his troops.

As the sun approached it midway journey, Cniva signaled to the Roman forces that he was prepared to give an answer. Fortunus rode in a trot with his escort to receive the Helvetti prince’s response. He dismounted and walked into the tent after his officers. Cniva motioned the Legate to sit and both began to converse once again.

“It seems that I have no choice. I had thought that your new emperor would have abandoned this idiotic campaign knowing that what could not be established in a decade would never be established. I believe Rome’s eye has grown too big and Arminius would have been the one to trim the fat from its lands. You have yet to see the brunt of my strength and yet to see how well my men can fight. However, I am no fool. I know that without the unifying leadership of Arminius the Germanii will not be successful. Even now the tribes fight amongst each other for control. If your commander decides to break this agreement, know that I will not tolerate any further infringement into Germanii lands. If your emperor decides to continue his expansion north he will find me waiting and he will likewise need dealing with every king, chieftain, and warlord, of Germania,” said Cniva.

Fortunus smiled politely, as he realized Rome would obtain a diplomatic resolution to gain victory in Western Germania. Cniva, somewhat confused by the legate’s smirk, walked off to his horse and rode to his men. As the two peoples moved in opposite directions, a thought quickly passed through Fortunus’ usually cheerful mind. Perhaps Rome had let its greatest northern threat go to gain strength; perhaps he should have attempted to strike down the German prince when he had a chance. Maybe, thought the Roman, Cniva was the true spirit of Germania, a man who was more dangerous than thousands of roving barbarians.

“Ha, of course not,” laughed the legate, as he led his men back to his camp to report on the incidents of the meeting.

Castra Prima

The moonlight crept into the small tent where Verius Tiberius Julianus sat discussing Roman politics and the Northern Campaign with his dear friends and companions Fabius and Lucius. Tiberius had been awaiting word from his emissaries from beyond the Rhine and from Eastern Germania Superior. As for the tribes in Western Germania Superior, Cniva had accepted his offer of a peaceful resolution to the conflict as did the remaining tribes of Western Germania Superior.

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Result: Western Germania Superior submits to Roman Rule

By: Romulus Fortunus Julianus and Verius Tiberius Julianus

AD 52