Spring's Dawn and the First Citizen's Feast
Winter was finally waning even in these distant northern reaches. As vibrant and subtly flushed with warmth and splendor as the coming spring, this place belonged to Londinium's first citizen—its grandest mansion. Just two years prior, that citizen had been Merlinus. Now it was Artorius. Normally, the fall of an old house takes time, but such a radical shift? Was there treason involved? No. Londinium's citizens had elevated the giant of Avalonia to first citizen themselves. Everyone who could enter the Forum packed in, while those just short of entry milled about outside, cheering as the name Artorius ascended to Magister militum.
In truth, Artorius held only the title of supreme commander. From the moment the legions departed, he had been no different from the king of this land. That left one question: Had Britannia's betrayer Constantinus and the abandoner of Britannia, Honorius—those two emperors—been unaware of this? Honorius had been ignorant; Constantinus knew. But Constantinus lacked the power to challenge Britannia's hero, backed by the ancient houses of Londinium and Camulodunum. Honorius simply had no thoughts on Britannia at all.
And that indifference shone through in the lavish banquet hosted in this glittering Londinium mansion by Guinevere, who could now rightly be called Britannia's mistress of the house.
"Hahaha—"
"Oh, is that true? Dominus Antius, to Domina—"
"Next, a poem for Dominus Invictus. Inspired by the victory at Isca Dumnoniorum—"
"Letters keep coming from my kin who crossed to Hispania via Gallia, and things seem far worse there. What will become of this empire..."
"It's old news by months now, but the far east is in turmoil too. Not east of Gallia—farther, beyond Phoenicia (the Syrian coast including Antioch) and Coele Syria (the inland Syrian deserts). The Persians are stirring again... Our empire's eastern front is chaotic as well—"
Like all societies, human civilization couldn't function without social bonds, and Romans placed particular weight on them. Hosting such gatherings typically fell to the lady of the house, whose skill in Rome's jungle—where reputation was both opportunity and peril—mattered far more than most realized.
She's masterful. Grown so well.
History was stained with the blood of nobles whose talents failed them at home. Knowing this all too well, Merlinus—who had never even built a family—watched Guinevere command the banquet's heart from a quieter corner, apart from the revelry's glamour. Strangers fell for her beauty and grace, said to surpass childhood promise and rival Galla Placidia as the empire's finest, spilling secrets freely. But Merlinus still saw the spunky tomboy who once bowed fiercely in Camulodunum or Londinium.
Uterius at Dubris Fortress likely felt the same. As the great poet Virgil said:
Tempus fugit
Translation: Time flies.
His contemporary Horace added:
Carpe diem
Translation: Seize the day.
"What do you think?"
"Fine verses, Dominus Merlinus."
"Apt metaphors too. Haha. Time flees heedless, urging us to seize the present all the more."
Muttered half to himself, yet the two men's expressions—desperate as drowning men grasping for a lifeline—betrayed its weight. One was Yobinus from Honorius; the other, Julianus from Constantinus. Both hailed from grand, wealthy houses in Italia and distant Pannonia, trusted names under their emperors. Merlinus had gathered these envoys here, in Artorius's mansion at his lady's banquet—a blatant signal even the obtuse could read.
Merlinus, and thus Artorius, wanted something from the emperors. The question: What? And did these emperors—who had devoured even Hibernia—have anything left to give? The envoys smiled softly, words honeyed, minds racing. Sweat beaded on the spines of these skilled administrators, Yobinus and Julianus, for their masters' plights were far grimmer than boasted.
Honorius's vaunted 40,000 amounted to 30,000 at best, including Goths creeping north from Italia's south—20,000 Romans alone. Reserves of 5,000 each guarded turbulent Hispania and suspicious Africa, another 5,000 defended Ravenna's heartland. That was his limit.
Constantinus's Gallic "50,000" peaked at 20,000. Unlike Honorius, he couldn't sway central Gallia's barbarians and relied on scant Frankish mercenaries. Worse, his veteran Gerontius in Hispania had crowned a new emperor and rebelled. Constantinus sent his son to crush it, leaving 20,000 in southern Gallia's capital, Arelate.
Honorius's 30,000 versus Constantinus's 20,000. Honorius held a numerical edge, but Constantinus defended. Hispania's chaos? Africa's reaction to a prolonged war? Central Gallia and northern Hispania's entrenched barbarians watching Rome's civil strife? Emperors fretted; ministers' heads throbbed.
Enter Britannia, the new wildcard—or rather, the emperors extending hands eagerly. Grab me from this storm-tossed sea! Save me, and I'll reward you! Of course, once ashore... different story.
Merlinus read their signals perfectly. On balance, Honorius holds the edge. Astonishingly.
He'd once predicted Constantinus's rebellion would drag on, not from the usurper's skill or lack, but barbarians ravaging the empire. Alaricus's death flipped it. Honorius suddenly claimed Italia's greatest threat as ally; Constantinus failed to harness Gallia's barbarians. Luck, more than merit—though luck is skill too. Still, Merlinus loathed crediting Honorius.
That wretched, lucky fool hunkered in Ravenna, scheming darkly.
With conflict shortening, Britannia must move boldly. Some urged: Ignore both emperors! March on the empire, crown Artorius Invictus Pendragon! But the world remained Rome's. Why challenge order for Britannia's prickly pride? Though Britannian himself, Merlinus agreed with provincials calling his kin "wild," "ungovernable," "rebel-loving." A king's traits, fine; an emperor's, fatal.
Fools chased quick gains; Merlinus played long. Honorius or Constantinus victor, the empire was broken. Time favored Dominus. The Goddess smiled on him. Fools.
"You both grasp time's value and reality's primacy. May I broach the crux?"
"Hahaha. Of course, Dominus Merlinus. Ravenna's court and our empire's wise first citizen heed the prudent."
No mention of Constantinus, but Yobinus slyly undercut him with glances, gestures. Julianus mirrored it. Merlinus watched these Italian and Pannonian nobles' eloquence with interest. Romans separated business from personal ruthlessly—unlike Britannians?
Under Artorius, Britannia united as never before. Was it the people? Or Artorius against the emperors? Rome, care to test?
"Beyond the Britannia our Dominus defended lies Hibernia, now imperial too. Too vast for one Magister militum? History recalls no Hibernian conqueror before our Britannian master. Now Britannia, Hibernia, northern Gallia kneel to him. What title fits?"
Offer one. No barbarian Rex; no Imperator. Only Patricius—"ruler," vague, traditional, mighty.