After ascending to the throne, Basil launched a series of wars to enhance his legitimacy and prestige. He first eradicated the Kingdom of Bulgaria, then expanded the navy, and eventually recaptured Crete from the Saracens.
For this campaign, he assembled a massive army of fifty thousand n. Two-thirds were dostic soldiers, while the remaining third comprised rcenaries from Eastern Europe.
Furthermore, Basil funded southern Italy and the Balkan region with vast amounts of wealth. Now, with the barbarians invading in full force, the populace of Italy was highly enthusiastic about joining the war. Over twenty thousand militia mbers had already gathered. Receiving weapons and armor from the Eastern Roman Empire, they were eager to drive the Vikings away.
On September 15th, Basil set out in advance, leading one thousand cataphracts, two thousand nomadic cavalry, and two thousand Varangian Warriors.
During the march, the nomadic cavalry and Varangian Warriors traveled on horseback. The cataphracts, adhering to a much higher standard, each possessed three mounts:
one horse for general riding, another for carrying the rider's armor, warhorse barding, and grain, leaving the dedicated warhorse completely unburdened for combat.
Thanks to this arrangent, Basil's marching speed reached thirty miles a day, with expectations of arriving in Ro City within ten days.
"Logically speaking, the militia from all over are gathering in Ro City. If they cannot even hold out for ten days, I cannot be blad."
September 25, 872 AD.
The autumn sun, stripped of its harsh sumr heat, shone gently upon the Latium Plain. After a long journey, Basil stepped onto the final stretch of road leading to Ro—the Appian Way.
The road surface had long lost the smoothness of the imperial era. The inscriptions on the roadside milestones were blurred, and so of the stones had been taken by farrs to build houses or serve as pig troughs.
On both sides of the road, the noble villas and bustling markets that once dotted the outskirts had long faded into obscurity. They were replaced by vast expanses of farmland and marshes, where reeds swayed in the autumn wind, emitting a damp, slightly decaying scent.
After walking for about two hours, Basil reached the southern suburbs of Ro City. The massive Aurelian Walls crawled across the horizon like a giant gray serpent.
Ahead lay the Porta San Sebastiano. Clerics and nobles, having heard the news of his arrival, ca out to welco him. Basil offered a few perfunctory words before dismissing the crowd, choosing to lead a small squad of the Royal Guard on a patrol through the city.
The magnificent Baths of Caracalla sat to the left of the main road. Its massive walls still stood tall, but the interior had long ceased operations. Parts of the facility had been dismantled, serving as a quarry for building churches and noble mansions.
The situation at the Circus of Maxentius was even more deplorable. It had been reduced to an open-air enclosure for raising sheep, pigs, and cattle. The ground and side walls were covered in copious amounts of filth, exuding an unbearable stench.
Covering his nose and mouth, Basil stepped closer to observe before silently continuing northward. The areas he passed through were sparsely populated, cultivated into wheat fields and vegetable gardens by the residents. Under the dim autumn sun, farrs and herders toiled among the ancient ruins—a particularly ironic sight.
"How could a perfectly fine Eternal City be ruined to such a state?"
Gazing at the dilapidated state of the empire's forr capital, Basil's mood abruptly soured.
After an unknown amount of ti, he arrived at the inhabited core district.
The Colosseum, too, was no longer functional. Its interior had beco an open-air market, and stones from its outer walls had been stripped away to construct churches and other facilities.
Palatine Hill—once the site of the imperial palace—was similarly abandoned.
By the dusky banks of the Tiber River, the Emperor carefully avoided the sewage dumped at street corners as he made his way toward a sprawling plaza.
Centuries had passed, and the ground level of the plaza had risen several ters compared to ancient tis. The Arch of Septimius Severus still stood, but its base was buried under earth, surrounded by weeds and rubble. Many temple pillars only had their upper halves protruding from the ground.
"Where is the Curia Julia?" Basil grabbed a peddler, shoving two gold coins stamped with his own likeness into the man's hand.
"Huh?" The peddler scratched his ssy light-blonde hair, completely failing to understand what this Greek was talking about.
Basil spent a long ti explaining before he finally made the peddler understand the specific aning of "Curia Julia."
"Oh, you an the Forum Julium! Why didn't you say so earlier?"
Pushing a handcart filled with figs and cheap wine, the peddler led the Emperor and his group of Royal Guards through the winding streets before pointing at the plaza ahead. "It's right there."
The main structure of the forr Senate house remained largely intact, but the open space out front had beco an open-air market. Vendors peddled pottery, vegetables, and fruits beneath the colonnades.
Many pack donkeys were tethered next to the surviving relief pedestals, and the air was thick with the stench of livestock manure.
At the top of the steps stood a massive bronze door. A fragnted Latin inscription, "SPQR" (The Senate and People of Ro), lingered on the lintel. According to historical records, after Caesar's assassination, Mark Antony had delivered a speech right here.
As the sky darkened, Basil headed toward the final famous landmark—the Pantheon.
Outside the temple, the statues of the ancient gods had long been removed. He stepped inside, where motes of dust danced in the beam of evening sunlight casting down from the do's oculus. The floor still retained its ancient Roman colored marble mosaics, though the patterns in certain areas had been forcefully scraped away or crudely slathered with a layer of concrete.
Basil looked up. Most of the gilded bronze plates on the ceiling of the do were missing, likely stripped away and lted down for coin.
More than ten minutes later, he walked out the main doors just as the final ray of sunset slipped beneath the horizon. At this ti, the Royal Guards quietly reminded him that the city's dignitaries had already prepared a banquet.
"They ruined Ro to such an extent, and they still have the mood to seek pleasure?"
After spending the better part of the day touring, Basil's beautiful impression of the empire's forr capital was completely shattered. The city was filled with endless ruins, and its population of no more than forty thousand was less than a tenth of Constantinople's.
The next day, Basil began to reorganize the city's defenses while simultaneously dealing with the local Italian nobles. They were primarily Franks who had risen to power during the ti of Charlemagne, along with a small remnant of Lombards.
In recent decades, Naples in the southern peninsula had broken away from Eastern Roman rule. During this period, the Duke of Naples proactively softened his stance, claiming that everything he had done was out of necessity, and that in his heart, he had always remained loyal to the Roman Empire.
Basil was highly skilled in court politics and could not possibly be deceived by such tricks. He suppressed his disgust while communicating with the duke, secretly plotting:
'The Duchy of Naples is close to Greece. If the Eastern Roman Empire wants to control Italy, we must reclaim Naples. Perhaps having him die on the battlefield would be beneficial for the majority of people.'
September 28th.
The number of troops within Ro City exceeded twenty thousand, though the vast majority were poorly trained militia. Basil busied himself with organizing the command structure while dispatching scouts to gather intelligence.
Four days passed before news arrived from the front lines. Over sixty thousand Viking soldiers were currently besieging Siena, a city approximately a hundred miles away from Ro.
The Great Viking Army was coming!
Reviews
All reviews (0)