Legends Never Die: Rome (ch. 141)

Four years. It was strange to think about at times, but it had been seven years since he decided to take his chance to make a fortune in the military. Three years for the grand conquest that forged an empire. And it really spoke to how ridiculous of a feat that was because the four years spent in the Mediterranean had only been a fraction as successful. 

For some, at least. 

Hjalmar slammed a cup full of dice on the table, already knowing which sides would be facing up as he revealed them with a flourish, drawing a chorus of groans from the various officers arranged in the tent. He fought to keep a smirk from tugging at his lips, reaching out and scooping coins his way and stacking them up -- there were Norse coins, Bulgarian coins, and… Roman coins. 

He held one up, seeing that it was a new mint. On one side was Emperor Charlemagne's visage with a script of Frankish letters around the rim. On the other was Empress Irene surrounded by Greek. One of the coins that went into production at the time of their wedding in Rome, so the silver in it was pure. 

“Heard they're already expecting a new little Roman heir,” Hoffer the One-Eye remarked next to him, letting out an eyewatering belch as he nursed his cup of ale. He was a cousin or something to King Hoffer, who ruled the island kingdom that Siegfried had left in his wake. Hjalmar didn't pay much attention to the relation -- when all their menfolk were named Hoffer, he doubted they even knew who they were related to and how. Not to mention, he was one of dozens that were sprinkled about the Mediterranean in the years since the Conquest. 

“Aye?” Trym questioned, laying about on a lounging chair that they had liberated from a Roman villa, stretched out like a well rested cat as he flicked up a grape into the air and it landed straight into his mouth. 

“Hm. Heard talk about it in Norland,” Hoffer replied as the other officers slammed more bets on the table and the dice made another roll. “Might have even been born already.” 

“That has to be a real mess of an inheritance,” Hjalmar remarked, leaning in his own seat and tilting his gaze up to the ceiling to see a painted mosaic. It was some story of the Bible, the one with God telling some guy to sacrifice his son just to see if he would do it before delivering a lamb. It was one of his favorites -- it felt like a trick Loki would pull. “The Romans, the real Romans, will hate the idea of a half-blood on the throne. But they'll hate the idea of a full-blooded barbarian even more.” 

By default, the child between Charlemagne and Irene would be the one to inherit. That was the only chance the restored Roman Empire had to remain intact. Meaning that his other sons wouldn't be inheriting a crown. And there were few people more dangerous than those who had expected to receive a crown but didn't. 

“Eh, I say let them tear each other apart. More coin for us,” Trym reasoned, tossing up another grape. 

“I almost feel for King Charlemagne,” Hjalmar replied with a small shake of his head. “Imagine breathing new life into a dead empire, and knowing your sons are going to muck it up?” 

“Price of having sons,” Hoffer snorted. “We're all fools until we make enough mistakes to be called wise. Usually by the time we're old and gray.” 

Hjalmar made a noise of agreement, flipping the roman coin between his fingers. Then he heard a yelp from Hoffer, prompting him to look over to see Ulfar had arrived and plucked a hair from Hoffer's beard. 

“A gray hair? You must be wise indeed,” He teased, dodging out of the way of a playful swat. But then his gaze landed on Hjalmar, who cocked an eyebrow. “King Hoffer has summoned us. He's planning another raid,” he added, much to the cheer of the men. 

Hjalmar nodded before he placed a few coins into the pile on the table. “For the love of the game,” he said, patting a likely winner on the shoulder as he passed. Because the man was almost as good of a cheater as Hjalmar was. That earned him a few cheers before he left the room with Ulfar. 

They walked the halls of a Roman villa that had fallen into the hands of King Hoffer. It had felt old when they first arrived, the aged stone telling that it endured from an age gone by, but it was vast and well cared for. Enough so that it had only been a small surprise to learn that the island had once been the personal pleasure island of Emperor Tiberius. And now it was a  base for foreign forces to raid up and down the Italia coast, almost with complete impunity. 

“You seem unusually thoughtful,” Ulfar remarked to him as they walked by a beautiful view of the sea and a cliffside. As well as an assembled army. 

“Thinking about kingdoms and empires," Hjalmar admitted. 

“Thinking about carving one out for yourself?” Ulfar asked, earning a snort from Hjalmar. Others had talked about it, he knew. It was a fairly popular topic these days, and one that even felt possible. The wealth of the Mediterranean still felt unimaginable some days. It wasn't quite the ‘rivers full of wine, villages full of beautiful and willing women, and cities built of silver and gold’ like in the stories, but there was a richness in the land that was simply lacking back home. 

It was a wonder that the Allvaldr had it in him to return. If it had been Hjalmar? After settling that blood debt, he would have taken everyone he could and migrated down to the Mediterranean to carve his kingdom out of a much more pleasant land than the frigid north. 

“More like how they rise and fall,” Hjalmar retorted. “Bulgaria fell, and now it's larger than it was thanks to us.” 

“And the loose grip of the Romans,” Ulfar added, earning an agreeing nod. 

They had spent two years in Bulgaria, aiding King Krum retake his kingdom. While they had reclaimed the core territories, everything south of the Danube River was decidedly lost. Which amounted to roughly half of what had been Bulgaria. Instead of beating his head against that particularly well-fortified wall, King Krum had instead swept to the west, towards the recently conquered territories that had once belonged to the Magyars. They were taken with little resistance, the Romans having far greater concerns than territory that was barely worth holding, much less fighting for. 

By the end of their first two years? Bulgaria stretched from the Danube to the Dnieper Rivers, over the Carpathian Mountains, but not beyond. Krum had been fortifying his borders and settling his new lands by the time they left, their thirst for treasure not sated. So, they heeded the Allvaldr and the Caliph, trekking to a small mountain kingdom before they were escorted across Anatolia through the Caliphate due to Constantinople refusing to allow their ships to sail through the strait it controlled. 

In the years since? They had settled in King Hoffer's kingdom, and they had grown fat with wealth. They raided with impunity across Anatolia, Illirya, Italia, and the parts of Gaul and Hispania that were now in Roman hands. The latter less so, as five years wasn't quite enough time to recover from the savaging the Allvaldr had given it. Hjalmar wasn't sure if Siegfried had left the people there with a pair of coins to rub together. 

But everywhere else? Especially the trade ships that came and went between what had been Francia and Rome? Absurdly rich. 

The temptation to stay and carve out a petty kingdom for himself was there. It felt like it could be an easy life in an easy land. Yet… 

“But it can't last,” Hjalmar continued. “Not the petty kingdoms, not Bulgaria, and not Hoffer's kingdom.” That's what stayed his hand. What prevented him from washing his hands of responsibility and the reason why he didn't simply retire to a villa with an army of servants to attend to him until his dying day. 

Ulfar nodded, “I think King Hoffer realizes that as well. It’s why he seeks to rush securing his territory before the Romans decide to swat away the flies annoying them so they can focus on the Abbasids and Scandinavia.” 

That was it exactly. As things were, Hoffer's kingdom and Bulgaria were minor concerns. A lower priority. But that wouldn't always be true. Once the unrest following the merging of their different cultures started to subside, Rome would have the strength to spare to deal with them. 

“Not to mention it's only a matter of time before the Abbasids tire of fools pirating their trade ships and coast,” Hjalmar reasoned as they walked. It was the nature of those that were willing to travel a world away in the pursuit of wealth -- they tended to be fools, and short-sighted ones at that. And once the Abbasids grew tired of them, Hoffer would lose his ally in the Mediterranean and be sandwiched between two giants that would each seek to control the seas. 

“Then you are settled on returning next year?” Ulfar asked, making Hjalmar hesitate before nodding. “How many men do you think will follow you back?” 

“A thousand, I think. Perhaps more for the glory of participating in a Great Raid,” he reasoned as they passed through a hall and walked down some stairs towards a courtyard. There, he saw a number of gathered commanders, many of them Norse and many of them not. “You?” 

“A few thousand. It will be difficult to convince them to return. Short-sighted or not, it's easier to think of today and not tomorrow,” Ulfar replied. The conversation lapsed as they arrived in the palace courtyard, finding King Hoffer seated on a throne. They were but a pair of faces amongst the commanders, albeit ones possessed of more influence than some, when they were brought towards the king and placed in seats of honor.  

Hjalmar kept his thoughts off of his face as he swept his gaze over the gathered commanders. He didn't think much of most of them. 

Hoffer's kingdom was a drawing point for mercenaries and pirates. Hoffer welcomed them with an open yet firm hand for the sake of having the manpower to resist the Romans -- be it garrisoning forts on the mainland, securing islands, or raiding. Hjalmar wasn't sure how many people dwelled within Hoffer's borders, but he was convinced at least half of them were fighting men and cutthroats. 

Another reason why he had no intention of staying. If he did, then his dying day could be tomorrow, when some pirate bribed the right servant and he woke up to a skewered heart. Admittedly that would technically be true anywhere, but it was especially true here. 

“I have received a message from our friend and ally, Emir Hadi al-Ghayb,” he began, holding up a folded letter. “A request for a series of raids along the coast of Roman controlled Hispania, lower Gaul, as well as Italia.” 

The information was interesting, but Hjalmar already knew where it was going. In the years since Siegfried's Great Raid, the Abbasids and Romans had been fighting to push each other out of the new territory. They were minor skirmishes for the most part, with villages changing hands, but little more than that across a back and forth border. However, everyone expected that to change after the marriage. 

The signs were all there -- armies drilling, fortifications being built, grain being stockpiled… war was in the air, and it was only a matter of when it would start. 

That didn't interest him much, largely because he had no intention of being here when that war did start. His only concern was how this would impact his ability to drag some fools back North with him. That, and the fact he knew that Hoffer would seek to influence him, and them, to stay. Instead, his focus was on Hoffer himself as he spoke towards the other commanders. And what he hoped to gain with this announcement. 

Predictably, the men were excited, but Hoffer stalled them with a raised hand. And it spoke a great deal about him that bands of blood-thirsty pirates, mercenaries and fools quieted down with the simple gesture. While Hoffer wasn't quite as physically imposing as Siegfried, he wasn't that far off. A useful trait when dealing with violent men who only cared for wealth and pleasure. 

“However,” Hoffer continued, raising another letter. “I fear that our Abbasid allies underestimate us. The strength that we command. Our reach!” He started, and the men cheered, roaring with approval. Partly because everyone loved a compliment, but mostly because they knew his words meant a chance for even greater wealth. “In but ten years, we have transformed ourselves. We have gathered strength and power and on this day? We have mustered an army of fifty thousand men!” 

Fifty thousand men on the Capri. It seemed high, but it fit his own estimations. 

“The Romans seek to dislodge us. The Abbasids seek to diminish us,” he continued, and Hjalmar got the feeling that this was turning towards a very dangerous destination. “I say that we strike back! Let us strike the beating heart of the Roman Empire -- Rome itself!” 

And that explained why fifty thousand men had been gathered on such a small island. King Hoffer planning something was obvious, but he hadn’t thought that Rome itself was the prize. 

“He wants to kill the restored empire in its cradle,” Ulfar whispered over the sound of cheering. 

“That'd explain it,” Hjalmar agreed. “He's likely planning to push them out of Italia altogether." It showed that King Hoffer was similarly aware of his position, so he wasn't waiting for either Rome or the Abbasids to decide his kingdom was more trouble than it was worth. He was attempting to shatter the union between Francia and Rome while it was still young and fragile. 

Sacking Rome itself would be a huge blow to the legitimacy of the union. Then there was the fact that Italia was a natural point of connection between Francia and Rome. Losing it meant that messages, edicts, and what have you would need to go through Illirya. Which was under threat by the Bulgarians. 

Francia could still call itself Rome if it wished, but severing that connection meant that they would functionally be two, divided empires. When used in conjunction with the Abbasids launching their invasion into Hispania and possibly Anatolia? They wouldn't be bolstered by Francia's support. Nor would Francia be supported by the Romans when it came time for conflict with  Scandinavia. Not to mention the wide sweeping unrest that would follow a decade’s worth of effort, dozens if not hundreds of marriages, and countless unpopular policy changes being rendered pointless as they would no longer be integrating two empires together. 

It was ambitious. More ambition than Hjalmar thought that King Hoffer had in him. If he succeeded… then that would be the end of it. Depending on how bad the backlash and the loss of face were, Emperor Charlemagne and Empress Irene could lose it all. Their empires would fracture and ill-timed invasions from Scandinavia or the Abbasids could shatter both their realms like glass. 

The more he thought about it, the more audacious the move seemed. 

And the more foolhardy.

“Charlemagne would rather lose everything in Hispania all the way to Northern Gaul before he’d let Italia slip between his fingers,” Hjalmar added, earning a small nod. 

“Not to mention the Romans. Irene is no less dedicated to this union,” Ulfar replied. “Both will respond in force… and if Hoffer does not win that war? Then his kingdom is done. Perhaps not instantly, but within a few generations… his kin will lose their grip on the islands until they are subjugated by either the Romans or the Abbasids.” 

Which was why Hoffer sought to secure Italia. A center of power so that his kingdom would grow and stand amongst equals between the Romans and Abbasids. 

“You know what this means, don't you?” Hjalmar questioned, and based on Ulfar's expression, he did. 

“He will be less than agreeable to have so many of his warriors departing as was planned by the Allvaldr.” 

… 

The men on Capri were eager to depart. They had suspected that they were gathered up for a Great Raid, but they had never guessed that Rome was their prize. The city, despite falling into ruin, was still one of the beating hearts of the Christian faith, and there were few things that the Christian God seemed to love more than gold and silver. In another time, it would be the obvious choice to sack. 

Yet, things had changed since the planned restoration of the Roman Empire. Rome had seen a resurgence, becoming an important centerpiece -- a declaration, of sorts. Rome had been a neglected, rotting city, and it was being remade to symbolize the remaking of the empire itself. And, if Hjalmar had to guess, it also had something to do with King Hoffer seizing the bottom half of Italia, making it a natural stronghold city.

It had a standing garrison, though Hjalmar had heard numbers ranging from as little as a few hundred to as many as a hundred thousand. He wasn't sure of the number himself, but he did know that it would be enough that Charlemagne and Irene felt the city would be secure. Meaning that despite all the talk of easy plunder, Hjalmar knew that they were in for a fight. 

And as he stood at the bow of his flagship, five thousand warriors under his command, with his ships a few amongst many, when he caught sight of the ancient city? A city that had withstood the test of time and endured armies, be they foreign or of ambitious fellow countrymen?

He knew that it would be quite the fight indeed.