The Eternal Empire (53 page)

"Why have you come Franz?"
asked Edwin.

"I'm not giving up this fight. We
still have enough men to break through and even if the rest of the army does
not follow we can make a point. We could have won were it not for the
pusillanimous actions of the council and the army high command. History will
judge us and history will condemn those who held us back."

Franz looked his friend in the eyes.
"Are you with me Edwin?"

There was no hesitation in his voice.
"Of course I am."

2nd
September 1920

Arcadiopolis,
Thrace

Smoke hung heavily over the city, but
most of the fires had burnt themselves out or had been extinguished by now. The
rebel Moesian legions had killed the Praetorian defenders and now Alexander and
Ex-Chief Minister Exanzenus stood before Monomachus, self-styled Emperor in the
ruins of what had once been a luxurious villa on the outskirts.

"So Alexander," said
Monomachus, reclining casually on a dining couch that had been hastily draped
with a purple cloth, "what am I to do with you?"

Alexander stared back at him sullenly
but said nothing.

"Having two Emperors doesn't work.
It's been tried in the past and only causes more problems than it solves. Of
course in the old days we could have just put your eyes out," Alexander
winced at this but still remained silent. "But that's regarded as rather
barbaric nowadays. I suppose I could have you locked up in a monastery -
another 'traditional' solution - but given your known depravity, that would be
a fate worse than death for you and I'm not a cruel man." He smiled in a
way that questioned that claim.

"Your Majesty will have need of
experienced officials," said Exanzenus, addressing Monomachus for the
first time. Alexander gave him a vicious sideways look. "Traitor!" he
spat. Stephanie had abandoned him without a word and now Exanzenus was turning
against him.

"So you're offering your services
to me now?" said Monomachus, slightly amused. "Quick to change sides,
aren't we."

"I serve the Empire," he
replied, his voice still tinged with his natural arrogance. He had never had to
beg for anything and he had no intention of starting now, even if his life
depended on it.

The conversation was interrupted as a
tribune hurried unannounced into the room, gave Monomachus an imperial salute
and spoke quietly into his ear.

Monomachus waved the soldier away.

"It appears that the Pannonian
legions have defeated my main army about twenty miles from here and are on
their way to rescue you."

He stood up and looked directly at
Alexander. "I'm afraid that signs your death warrant. The Pannonian
legions put you father on the throne and they still have a strong attachment to
the house of Ducas. They will never accept me while you are still alive."

He turned to a centurion standing
nearby. "Take him out and shoot him."

He looked briefly at Exanzenus.
"Take him too."

2nd
September 1920

Vouzaria,
Gaul

The next Saxon attack forced Cornelius
to pull all his surviving men back to the railway station. It was a huge,
impressive and solidly built two-storey edifice, erected nearly half a century
before during the heyday of railway construction. It was shaped like an
elongated horseshoe opening onto a series of platforms facing the river. The
front of the station, facing the town, housed the booking halls with a
restaurant upstairs that served the Imperial Hotel that made up the base or
north side of the 'horseshoe'. An impressive staircase led down from the
restaurant onto the station concourse that was covered with a steel and glass
canopy that had somehow escaped any noticeable damage so far. To the south were
offices for the staff of the Imperial Railways that ran the station and
controlled the marshalling yards. On the other side of the platforms was a
pedestrian bridge that connected the station to a complex of houses built for
employees of the railway. Fulvia was organising the evacuation of the wounded
across the bridge. Cornelius pleaded with her to go as well.

"No," she said curtly and
with an air of finality. "There are some men who are too badly wounded to
move. I'm staying."

Cornelius thought about arguing with
her or even ordering a couple of military policemen to carry her across the
river, but decided against it. Once Fulvia had made up her mind about something
it was like talking to a brick wall, so reluctantly he left her in the hotel
that now served as the hospital.

The restaurant was being used as the
legions command and operations centre. The dining tables had been rearranged to
accommodate maps and equipment, and it was here that Cornelius held what he
expected to be his last senior officers meeting.

Besides Cornelius there were only two junior
tribunes and four senior centurions present instead of the usual thirty or more
- a reflection of the decimated state of the legion. The centurion of the 4th
cohort, whom Cornelius had co-opted as the legion's adjutant gave a brief
summary of the legions strength and deployment.

"We have between 800 and 900 men
still capable of bearing arms, organised into four very weak cohorts. The 4th
is holding the station buildings with the 2nd cohort dug in by the marshalling
yards. The 1st cohort is holding the line between the station and the northern
bridge while what is left of the 5th is holding the southern bridge."

"How are we for ammunition?"
asked Cornelius.

"Plenty of rifle rounds and hand
bombs," replied the acting adjutant. "We helped ourselves to whatever
we could find in the warehouses although some of it was earmarked for other
legions."

"There'll be hell to pay with the
Quartermaster General when this is all over," commented an old centurion
from the 2nd cohort with a laugh. "I think I'd rather face the
Saxons!"

That raised a smile all round and
Cornelius was grateful to the old soldier for lightening the mood.

"Despite the plentiful supply of
bullets, we are short on machine rifles. We lost a large number in the fighting
and during the withdrawals. We have been depending on their fire power to
break-up the Saxon attacks."

They all nodded grimly in
acknowledgement. The heavy water cooled machine rifles could spew out five
hundred rounds a minute, but they were not very mobile.

"When can we expect
reinforcements," asked a nervous young tribune. "I need to tell my
men something," he added quickly lest someone thought he was scared. He
had only arrived from Rome two days earlier and this was his first time under
fire. He still had not realised that being scared in battle was quite normal.

"Soon”, answered Cornelius. A
message had arrived from General Comenus half an hour ago. The rest of the
front was still quiet and he had received a cease-fire request from Godisger,
so he could release his reserves to help Cornelius. However they would not get
there for at least another four hours.

The sharp crackle of gunfire drew
everybody's attention to the open windows. A squad of riflemen lined the window
ledges and the optio in charge glanced outside carefully.

"They're driving our pickets in
sir," he announced, gripping his rifle tightly and subconsciously slipping
the safety catch off.

The area in front of the station was
fairly open with a small park taking up most of the space with only a few
buildings along the edge. Whilst inadequate for defence, the park could serve
to cover the approach of an attacker, so Cornelius had deployed a dozen
legionaries in a picket line to give warning of a Saxon move on the station.

"Well gentlemen," said
Cornelius picking his helmet up off the table, "it looks like this meeting
is over. Return to your units, and good luck."

They all saluted and made their way
out, leaving Cornelius and the adjutant alone with the squad of riflemen in the
room.

"Permission to rejoin my cohort
sir," requested the adjutant formally.

Realising that the centurion would
rather fight what may be his last battle amongst his old comrades Cornelius
nodded his approval.

"Yes, of course. I don't have much
need of an adjutant any more. Thank you for all that you have done."

The centurion saluted, picked up his
helmet and collected his rifle from the rack beside the door on his way out.
Cornelius walked over to the rack and selected a rifle for himself and filled
the pouches and pockets of his battle dress with bullets. He then went over and
joined the men at the windows.

 Franz sighted his rifle at the figure
in the window and slowly squeezed the trigger, holding his breath as he did so.
The figure in the window disappeared, and Franz swore when just as quickly it
reappeared again. Franz worked the bolt on his rifle, ejecting the empty shell
and chambering another round. He then took out his pocket watch.

"Another minute," he muttered
to himself, and turned to the men around him amongst the trees and bushes of
the park opposite the front of the station. "Keep firing! Make them keep
their heads down!"

The tempo of gunfire from the Saxons
increased in obedience to his exhortation, and Franz took another shot at the
elusive figure in the upper window. A yelp of pain distracted him, as the
soldier ahead of him took a bullet in his shoulder and was spun around by the
impact, falling close to where Franz was crouching. The soldier lay on the
ground clutching his bloody and shattered arm, cursing the Romans through
clenched teeth. Franz ignored him and took aim at the window again.

Cornelius flinched as another bullet
ricocheted off the masonry around the window and showered his helmet with stone
chips. The squad of riflemen in the room with him kept up a steady return fire,
all except one man, shot through the head and lying in an ever-increasing pool
of his own blood.

The first rush by the Saxons had been
beaten off easily and the two sides had settled into a fire fight with the
attackers laying down a heavy, if generally inaccurate, fire. Cornelius sat
with his back to the wall for a moment to reload the magazine of his rifle,
comforted by the thick stones that separated him from the enemy outside. The
Saxons had not tried to storm the station again since their first attempt and
Cornelius was beginning to think that they had lost the stomach for another
attack, when a tremendous shout rang out.

Raising his head carefully to look over
the window ledge Cornelius saw a solid mass of Saxons in their blue-grey
uniforms charging out of side streets and from behind buildings at the south
end of the park, heading for the offices on that side of the station. From the
upper stories of the building where the Saxons had been hiding came the flashes
of dozens of machine rifles blazing away at the Romans defending the offices.

Cornelius watched for a few seconds as
the Saxons poured across the gap between the buildings, oblivious of
casualties. Then he turned to the men around him.

"You two!" he shouted at the
nearest soldiers, "come with me. The rest stay here and keep those buggers
out there occupied!" He ran out of the room followed by the two
legionaries. Cornelius collected half of the defenders from the other rooms and
led them down the ornate staircase to the concourse where he found the
ex-adjutant with another group of legionaries.

"They've been holding our
attention here while they infiltrated men on our right," shouted Cornelius
above the noise of the battle that echoed around the cavernous space of the
station concourse. "They're going to break in at the offices and then take
the rest of us in the rear. We've got to stop them or the town will be
lost."

There were about twenty-five men in
total, many with blood stained bandages, all with rifles and fixed swords. This
was his last reserve. "Follow me!" cried Cornelius and set off at a
steady run towards the sound of the fighting.

The offices on the southern side of the
station comprised a number of small rooms and had windows looking out onto the
marshalling yard. However there were no windows and only a few doors that
opened onto the station concourse. In the centre of this block of offices was a
tunnel, about fifteen feet wide that led into the station from the railway yard.
At the entrance to the tunnel was a pair of heavy wooden gates, which were
barred and reinforced with a couple of railway sleepers.

The heavy machine rifle fire had forced
the legionaries away from the windows and into the interior of the offices, allowing
the attackers to reach the building. Saxon casualties piled up outside the
windows as the defenders concentrated their fire on those brave enough to
attempt to climb through. The Saxons then began throwing hand bombs into each
room, killing or disabling enough of the Romans to allow them to gain a
foothold inside.

The surviving legionaries made a
fighting withdrawal from the offices, as more and more attackers poured through
the windows. One group of Saxons made their way into the tunnel through a side
door and began to remove the railway sleepers wedged up against the gates.