Chapter 16: The Assassination of Emperor Caracalla
Chapter 16: The Assassination of Emperor Caracalla
At that moment, a veteran centurion ran over and hoisted Titus onto his back.
“I’ll take him! Commander, keep directing the battle!”
The soldiers around us fought even harder, rage surging through them at the sight of a comrade falling.
“For Rome!” someone shouted.
“For our comrades!” another answered.
“For ourselves!” I shouted.
In that instant, I realized something.
War wasn’t only for the emperor or the empire.
It was for the comrades fighting beside you—for protecting each other’s lives.
As the sun tilted toward the west, a horn sounded from the Germanic side.
A retreat signal.
They gathered the bodies of their dead and withdrew across the river.
We did not pursue.
Everyone was utterly exhausted. I was too.
My armor was caked with blood and sweat, and my sword was dulled.
I climbed the wall and looked down at the battlefield.
Corpses lay scattered everywhere—Germanic warriors and Roman legionaries mixed together.
The price of victory was enormous.
Comazon approached.
His face was smeared with blood.
“You were excellent, Varius. If you hadn’t held the right flank, we would’ve lost.”
“It wasn’t my achievement alone.” I looked over the soldiers around me. “We held because everyone fought together.”
That night, we held funerals for the fallen.
Titus was among them.
He was twenty-three.
“They fought for Rome’s glory,” Comazon recited in his eulogy. “We will never forget their sacrifice.”
Tears came without warning.
The grief of losing comrades outweighed any joy of victory.
That was the truth of war.
But I also felt something else.
Why we fought here.
The quiet villages near the Rhine, the farmers and children living there—We were the shield so they could live in peace.
On the way back to the barracks, I looked at the Rhine.
The water still flowed calmly, moonlight glittering on its surface.
Today’s brutal battle felt like a lie.
[This really feels like I’ve become a real soldier now?!]
“Yeah. You only understand once you’ve lived it.”
Compared to when I first left Rome and came here…I learned what mattered.
True courage wasn’t fighting without fear.
It was enduring to the end with your comrades.
And more precious than victory were the lives of the comrades who fought beside you.
**
We originally came here planning for about two months.
And yet, before I knew it, nearly a year had passed.
Countless battles.
And the camaraderie that came with them—Comrades who fought together, ate together, laughed together, and sometimes cried together.
A year with them made me into a real soldier.
As I sank into thought, a messenger from General Comazon came running from afar.
“The general urgently requests you!” His face was tight with urgency.
Something serious had happened.
I quickly adjusted my armor and headed for the command tent.
Outside were two dust-covered horses, breathing hard.
They had clearly ridden a long distance without rest.
Inside, I saw General Comazon and two messengers. The messengers were imperial cavalrymen from Rome.
The imperial crest was embroidered on their red cloaks.
“Varius, you’re here.” Comazon’s face was pale. “Sit. You need to hear this.”
“What is it, General?”
Comazon couldn’t speak for a moment.
He nodded to the messenger, and one of them spoke.
“His Majesty… Emperor Caracalla has passed away.”
My mind went blank.
What? Already? I thought there was still plenty of time…“Passed away? What happened?”
The messenger lowered his voice. “He was assassinated.”
“Assassinated…!”
[Good. I already know this, but I should act shocked in moments like this.]
“On the eighth of last month, during the Mesopotamian campaign, near Carrhae,” the messenger continued. “His Majesty was traveling to Edessa. He dismounted to relieve himself, and at that moment, the guardsman Martialis approached and stabbed him.”
In the records, I remembered Caracalla dying on the way to pray at a temple—had the messenger received a different report?
But right now, that detail didn’t matter.
“A guardsman killed the emperor…?” I made my expression look disbelieving.
“Yes. Martialis was immediately killed by other guardsmen, but the emperor died on the spot.” Comazon spoke heavily. “The problem is what followed. Two days later, the Praetorian Prefect Macrinus was proclaimed emperor by the legions.”
“Macrinus?” I remembered my conversation with Comazon. The warning that Macrinus had been meeting senators frequently… his ambition. “Is there evidence Macrinus was behind it?”
The second messenger produced a sealed letter.
“This is what Rome’s informants gathered. Recently, Martialis’s friend was executed by Emperor Caracalla. It’s said the cause was that his promotion to centurion was refused.”
“So that’s the motive for the assassination?”
“On the surface, yes. But…” The messenger lowered his voice further. “There are testimonies that Martialis was close to Macrinus. And Macrinus had been at the emperor’s side right up until the assassination—but in that exact moment, he was absent.”
Comazon slammed his fist onto the table. “It was planned. Macrinus waited for his chance, and he finally acted.”
“But if the legions proclaimed him emperor…” I continued. “Doesn’t that mean he has military support?”
“That may have been engineered,” Comazon said with a cold smile. “Macrinus was the Praetorian Prefect. He controlled the Praetorians, and in the chaos after the emperor’s death, he moved fast. The legions likely had no real choice.”
“What about Lady Julia Domna?” I worried for my great-aunt.
The messenger’s expression darkened. “That’s the most concerning part. The Empress Dowager is currently in Antioch. She remained in Syria, accompanying Emperor Caracalla’s campaign.”
“How is Macrinus treating her?”
“Outwardly, he pretends to show respect. In reality, he has stripped her of all authority—control over finances, review of imperial correspondence, the power to recommend appointments… everything.”
Comazon ground his teeth. “He’s trying to neutralize her. Julia Domna symbolizes the legitimacy of the Severan line. To Macrinus, she’s the greatest threat.”
“There’s worse news.” The messenger pulled out another letter. “Rumors say the Empress Dowager is suffering from breast cancer. Some even say she may take her own life.”
“What are you saying?!” I sprang up. “Lady Julia Domna? She wouldn’t—!”
“I know,” Comazon said gravely.
“But it shows how desperate the situation is. After losing Geta, then Caracalla, having her power stripped away, and then falling ill…”
“Grandmother… what is Lady Julia Maesa doing?” I asked urgently.
“That is why we must return to Rome,” Comazon said, standing and spreading out a map. “I’ve heard Lady Julia Maesa is currently in Emesa. She knows about Julia Domna’s crisis, and she has likely begun moving quietly.”
“What kind of moves?”
“She’s contacting Syrian legion commanders. Meeting local power holders. Holding talks with the priests of the Temple of Elagabal.”
Comazon’s eyes sharpened. “Lady Maesa hasn’t given up. She’s preparing to oppose Macrinus.”
“But Macrinus is already emperor. How—”
“Varius. In history, the throne isn’t decided by blood alone.” Comazon looked straight at me.
“Military backing, Senate recognition, and above all, public sentiment. Macrinus comes from the equestrian class. He isn’t a senator, and he isn’t from a great noble house. His legitimacy is too weak.”
“Then Grandmother is…”
“She’s dreaming of restoring the Severan dynasty,” Comazon said firmly. “And shouldn’t we help make that dream real?”
“General, what exactly do you plan to do?”
Comazon leaned toward me.
“First, I hand command of the fortress to the deputy commander. Then I return to Rome—with you, and a few trustworthy centurions. We assess the situation and join Lady Julia Maesa.”
“But if you leave, the Rhine defense—”
“Don’t worry. We’ve won several large battles. The Germanic tribes will need time to regroup. And Deputy Commander Aurelius is capable.” Comazon placed a hand on my shoulder. “Varius, do you remember what I told you a year ago? Don’t stay too far from the center of power. Now is the time to step into it.”
I fell silent, thinking.
A year here flashed through my mind.
The comrades I fought beside. The sweat and blood. The bonds we built.
Leaving it all behind and returning to Rome wouldn’t be easy.
But at the same time…I saw the faces of Lady Julia Maesa and Lady Julia Domna.
They were in danger.
And more than anything, the empire stood at a crossroads.
We had to go.
“When do we depart?”
“Tomorrow at dawn.” Comazon’s expression softened. “Travel light and move fast. One month to Brundisium, then one week to Rome. We must arrive as quickly as possible.”
That night, I gathered the men I had fought beside.
Quintus. Gaius the Gaul. David the Syrian…Comrades who had lived and died with me for a year.
“Tomorrow morning, I have to return to Rome.” I looked over them. “It’s sudden, but something major has happened in the empire.”
Surprise and regret crossed their faces.
“If you leave, commander, who will lead us?”
“The deputy commander will lead well. You’re already strong enough. I’ve seen what kind of soldiers you are over this past year.” Veteran centurion Gaius stood. “Commander, thank you for this year. It was an honor to fight with you.”
One by one, the others rose and saluted.
I shook each man’s hand.
The year we shared played through my mind like a fast-moving dream.
“Let’s meet again someday,” I said sincerely. “Until then, survive. That’s my final order to you.”
“We will obey, Commander!”
Outside the window, the Rhine shimmered under the moonlight.
It was time to leave the fortress, the river, and the comrades who had been my entire life for a year.
What lay ahead would be even more important—and more dangerous.
A battle for the empire’s fate was about to begin.