Cato's Cavalry

By the 7th century, primarily due to invaders from Central Asia, such as the Avars, stirrups began spreading across Asia to Europe.[20] The iron pear-shaped form of stirrups, the ancestor of medieval European types, appears in Japan around AD 470-550, and was found in Europe in 7th century Avar graves in Hungary.[21] A total of 111 specimens of early Avar-age, apple shaped, cast-iron stirrups with elongated suspension loop and flat, slightly inward bent tread had been excavated from 55 burial sites in Hungary and surrounding regions by 2005.[22] An early 7th-century date is secured for most Hungarian finds of stirrups with elongated suspension loops., though some of these may even be dated to before 600.[23] The earliest stirrups of western Europe, those of Budenheim and Regensburg, were either brought from the Avar Khaganate as booty or gifts, or were local imitations of stirrups in use at that time among Avar warriors.[24]
By the 8th century stirrups began to be adopted more widely by Europeans.[25] However, the Avar-style stirrups were not as widely adopted in western Europe. Stirrups do not appear in the Merovingian and Italo-Lombard milieu in large numbers, nor as frequently as within the Carpathian Basin.[24] Most other stirrups found in Germany that date to the 7th century do not resemble the iron Avar style commonly found in burial assemblages from Hungary and neighboring regions. Instead, hanging mounts occasionally found in burial assemblages in southern Germany suggest the use of wooden stirrups.[26] The scarcity of early-medieval stirrup finds in western Europe was noted by Bernard Bachrach: "Out of 704 eighth century male burials excavated in Germany untill [sic] 1967, only 13 had stirrups."[27]

The Great Stirrup Controversy is a controversy about the Stirrup Thesis, the theory that feudalism in Europe was largely the result of the introduction of the stirrup to cavalry.
The idea, first proposed by Lynn White Jr. in 1962, contends that as mounted warfare became easier and more effective for Frankish cavalry, they replaced infantry as the most powerful force on the battlefield, and thus aristocracy with wealth enough to own a horse became the dominant force on the battlefield, and thus were in a position to offer protection to horseless peasants.
It is agreed that cavalry replaced infantry in Carolingian France as the preferred mode of combat around the same time that feudalism emerged in that area, but whether this shift to cavalry was caused by the introduction of the stirrup is a contentious issue among historians. It has been asserted that armored cavalry were used successfully without stirrups before their introduction, and that the transition to cavalry was not a result of new technologies.
Modern reenactment and experimental archaeology has, however, shown that stirrup provides very little benefit for a mounted lancer, and a cantled saddle and spurs are more avail. Stirrup provides stability for striking with a sword or mace, however.
The first fully armoured cataphracts appeared in third century BC, almost 1000 years before the Carolingian dynast


A cataphract was a form of armored heavy cavalry utilised in ancient warfare by a number of peoples in Western Eurasia and the Eurasian Steppe.
The word in English is derived from the Greek: κατάφρακτος Kataphraktos (plural: κατάφρακτοι Kataphraktoi), literally meaning "armored" or "completely enclosed". Historically the cataphract was a very heavily armored horseman, with both the rider and steed draped from head-to-toe in scale armor, while typically wielding a kontos or lance as their weapon.
".. But no sooner had the first light of day appeared, than the glittering coats of mail, girt with bands of steel, and the gleaming cuirasses, seen from afar, showed that the king's forces were at hand." Ammianus Marcellinus, late Roman historian and soldier, describing the sight of Persian cataphracts approaching Roman infantry in Asia Minor, c. 4th century.[1]
Cataphracts served as either the elite cavalry or assault force for most empires and nations that fielded them, primarily used for impetuous charges to break through infantry formations. Chronicled by many historians from the earliest days of Antiquity up until the High Middle Ages, they are in part or wholly believed to have given rise to the Age of Feudalism in Europe and the later European equivalents of Knights and Paladins, via contact with the Byzantine Empire.[2]
Notable peoples and states deploying cataphracts at some point in their history include: the Scythians, Assyrians, Sarmatians, Parthian dynasties, Achaemenid Empire, Sakas, Armenia, Seleucids, Pergamenes, the Sassanid Empire, the Roman Empire and the Byzantine Empire.
In the West, the fashion for heavily armored Roman cavalry seems to have been a response to the Eastern campaigns of the Parthians and Sassanids in the region referred to as Asia Minor, as well as numerous defeats at the hands of cataphracts across the steppes of Eurasia, the most notable of which is the Battle of Carrhae. Traditionally Roman Cavalry was neither heavily armored nor all that effective; the Roman Equites corps were composed mainly of lightly armored horsemen bearing spears and swords to chase down stragglers and routing enemies. The adoption of cataphract-like cavalry formations took hold amongst the late Roman army during the late 3rd and 4th centuries AD. The Emperor Gallienus Augustus (253–268 AD) and his general and would-be usurper Aureolus, bear much of the responsibility for the institution of Roman cataphract contingents in the Late Roman army.

Feudalism was a set of political and military customs in medieval Europe that flourished between the ninth and fifteenth centuries, which, broadly defined, was a system for ordering society around relationships derived from the holding of land in exchange for service or labour. Although derived from the Latin word feodum (fief),[1] then in use, the term feudalism and the system it describes were not conceived of as a formal political system by the people living in the Medieval Period. In its classic definition, by François-Louis Ganshof (1944),[2] feudalism describes a set of reciprocal legal and military obligations among the warrior nobility, revolving around the three key concepts of lords, vassals and fiefs.

300px-Ancient_Sasanid_Cataphract_Uther_Oxford_2003_06_2(1).jpg
 
Yep Lazy as hell. i know. but it might help. i can see where Cymraeg is going with this, Very nice Idea, having Early Stirrup in The British isles at just the same time as the Anglo saxon invasion. it is looking V much like The Locals have just got a force multiplier, just at the right time! and in Deva Victrix. just far enogh away from the south east to use as a bace of ops.
 
Marcus Valerius Poplicala was swearing briskly under his breath as he got down off the horse and he continued to swear as he stood next to the beast and glared at the iron triangles that were attached to the expensive saddle. “It’s so.... simple!” he finally exploded at Aurelianus, who had been watching his old friend to one side with a highly amused look on his face. “Why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t anyone think of this earlier?”

“I think that our minds are too sophisticated,” Aurelianus said with as straight a face as he could muster. “We don’t do simple things well.”

Poplicala squinted at him and then burst out laughing. “I like that,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Too sophisticated indeed.” He looked at the triangle in front of him again and then nodded. “Right then, you’ve convinced me. What now?”

Aurelianus gestured courteously and they walked into the atrium of the building, leaving the horse in the company of an attendant. “Now,” he said as they walked into his office, “We start building up our strength for the fight ahead.”

“Trouble where though?” Poplicala rumbled as he sank into a chair. “There’s so much of it all over the bloody place. Last time I was in Rome the place was in a panic. Same with Augusta Treverorum. No money, shambles for legions, barbarians all over the place, foederatii who don’t know their place in life and who stab you in the back every five minutes... take your pick.”

“I pick Britannia,” Aurelianus said quietly. “This island is defensible – if we have the right tools.”

Poplicala looked at him grimly. “We don’t have the right tools any more. You know that.”

“I know,” he said, closing his eyes for a long moment and then sighing. “Twenty years ago we had an army here in Britannia. We had a fleet. We had everything. Now – thanks to Magnus Maximus and his mad dream of becoming emperor! – we have nothing. The legions have gone. The auxiliaries are going. Trade’s faltering, government is in chaos...” He shook himself as if he was shedding the dark thoughts that clung to him like water. “Well, no more will go on the transports to Portus Itius. The word’s gone out to various friends of mine that all auxiliaries are to be reclassified as ‘volunteers’. It’ll be tricky, but we can arrange it.”

“Are you sure you can arrange that?” his friend asked dubiously. “It’s not like you have the authority.”

This comment earned him a shrug. “Who does have authority at the moment? No-one knows – government is still functioning at the lower level but it’s total confusion at the higher level. I have enough authority to give orders and make people do things without thinking about them too much, and quite often people like that because it eliminates some of the uncertainty.”

Grunting thoughtfully Poplicala nodded slowly. “What about this Great Council they’re talking about establishing?”

Aurelianus grimaced slightly. “It’s been proposed that the highest remaining officials and people of authority in Britannia assemble and discuss the situation. Decidivatus down in Londinium wrote to me last month to say that we should appeal to the Emperor himself.”

“You’re not enthusiastic about this council then?”

“I think that assembling such a group will open it up to all kinds of people with all kinds of views, who will talk and talk and talk! The last thing we want is a Senate in Britannia right now – there are too many decisions to be made.”

Poplicana looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment. “Are you saying,” he said carefully, “That we need an emperor here?”

His friend looked at him wryly. “No,” he replied almost gently, “We don’t. We both know where that would end.”

“So what do we need?”

“A smaller council, with people in it who can take the tough decisions and do what it takes to defend Britannia,” Aurelianus said forcefully, leaning over his desk. “We’re further north than parts of Germania, but we have a better climate. There’s a lot of good land here – and that’s something that’s always wanted. The Hibernians are getting restless again according to the people I have in Segontium. The Votadini are reporting that the Painted People are stirring as well. And then there are the Saxons. You know what the Sea Wolves are like. The minute that they sniff weakness here they’ll be all over the east coast like flies on fresh meat.

“We have to organise, while we still can. We’ve lost so many men to the wars in Gaul that it makes me feel ill at the implications. I’ve got agents out looking for retired veterans from the Eagles who we can use to start training. But that’s going to take time. Money too, but that’s something that we still have at the moment. Time’s the main factor though. That’s where those iron triangles come in – we have to find a better name for them though. I’ve got the centurion who came up with them out training as many cavalry as he can. Those triangles gives them far more force when it comes to fighting. Can you imagine a full charge now?”

Poplicana nodded with a shudder. Roman cavalry had never been the force that they could have been – the Empire had always used Gaulish cavalry because they were far better at fighting on horseback. But now... well now that had something that could give them a real edge. Cavalry could travel faster than infantry, obviously, but lacked punch. Or should that be had lacked punch. “You’re thinking about using cavalry to fight off any raids then?”

“Yes,” Aurelianus said, sitting back down behind his desk.

“What about this council? You know that Lucius Vitalis is pressing for a place on it don’t you?”

Aurelianus pulled a face. “Yes,” he said in a voice like stone. “I am aware of that backstabbing bastard and his poisonous son.”

“Poisonous and charismatic,” Poplicana pointed out. “Don’t dismiss them lightly Marcus. They’re dangerous. And they have support amongst the tribes. Oh and they wouldn’t shed any tears if they heard that you and your son were dead.”


“Well then,” Aurelianus said with a gleam in his eyes, “we’d better be careful hadn’t we? Especially as we have so much to do!”
 
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Ahem. If I may offer my assistance... Vortigern's father's name was--Vitalis. (Unless you're talking about Britu when you mentioned the son, but it's a bit early for him.)
 
Thanks for that bit of information Space Oddity! The records of that time are patchy at the very best, so I suspect that there's going to be a fair bit of patching up here and there for this timeline. That said - I'm enjoying it! :D
 
Hey, don't mention it. I've spent a lot of time collecting these odd facts on the bit players of the Arthurian mythos/semiobscure figures of British antiquity. It's good to see them getting used. Actually, a fun thing to note. Magnus Maximus has been mentioned--as well he should be--and guess who, in quite a few sources, is his son-in-law? Yep, our good buddy Vortigern is married to Magnus's daughter. With a son of his own on the way.
 
Ahem. If I may offer my assistance... Vortigern's father's name was--Vitalis. (Unless you're talking about Britu when you mentioned the son, but it's a bit early for him.)

Thanks for that bit of information Space Oddity! The records of that time are patchy at the very best, so I suspect that there's going to be a fair bit of patching up here and there for this timeline. That said - I'm enjoying it! :D

The more commonly accepted theory is that Vortigern's name was actually Vitalis or possibly Vitalinus, and Vortigern itself was a title rather than a name (Vortigern translates roughly as "Over-King," or High King). Perhaps you can have the father be Vitalis and the son Vitalinus.

Incidentally the site linked above has a lot of really excellent info on the period Cymraeg is writing about. I relied heavily upon it when writing BRITONS TRIUMPHANT.
 
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The more commonly accepted theory is that Vortigern's name was actually Vitalis or possibly Vitalinus, and Vortigern itself was a title rather than a name (Vortigern translates roughly as "Over-King," or High King). Perhaps you can have the father be Vitalis and the son Vitalinus.

Incidentally the site linked above has a lot of really excellent info on the period Cymraeg is writing about. I relied heavily upon it when writing BRITONS TRIUMPHANT.

That theory is somewhat questionable, actually--the problem with 'Vortigern' being a title is that only one person ever seems to have gotten it--Vortigern. And while the name may mean 'High Lord' it doesn't necessarily mean that it isn't a name--plenty of children have been named Rex or Regina, after all.

As I see it, there are three major ways it can be represented...

A) Vortigern is a title, created on the spot for our prospective Lucius Vitalinus, and never duplicated. (It can even indicate being head of the Council.)

B) Vortigern is a nickname/pseudonym, either given to Vortigern because of his high position, or assumed by him for roughly the same reason.

C) Vortigern is his name, and is a good indicator of the Vitalis family's ambitions and pride. (In this case, it would mean 'High and Lordly'.)

Really, anyone can work. Writing about this period is heavily speculative, even by althistory standards... :)
 
That theory is somewhat questionable, actually--the problem with 'Vortigern' being a title is that only one person ever seems to have gotten it--Vortigern. And while the name may mean 'High Lord' it doesn't necessarily mean that it isn't a name--plenty of children have been named Rex or Regina, after all.

That's true, of course, but nevertheless, it is the commonly accepted theory as it stands. There could be any number of reasons why nobody else ever got the title. The most likely...Vortigern/Vitalus is recorded as having been widely reviled as the person responsible for the whole Anglo-Saxon invasion of Britain. Whether he really was responsible or not, possibly there was so much revulsion that became attached to the title itself, which had become so identified with the man that his own name was forgotten, that his successors chose not to use the title again. Or maybe his immediate successors did use the title again, and it was edited out of later histories as the "Bad Vortigern" story gained currency.

At this early period, it is unlikely that somebody like Lucius Vitalis would have given his son a Celtic name. So the idea that Vortigern is a title rather than a name actually makes more sense.
 
It had been a very long day, and what Aurelianus was really looking forward to was a cup of wine, anything edible at all, a plunge into a bath and then a lot of sleep. Unfortunately the reappearance of Centurion Cato in his office put that plan on hold. What was ominous was the fact that Cato had his helmet under one arm and a po-faced look of unease that he was quite familiar with. It said that here was an man with a burden.

“Beg pardon sir,” he rumbled almost hesitantly, “I have come to make my report.”

“Then please give it, Centurion,” Aurelianus commanded with a slight frown.

Cato stamped forwards and placed a set of wood-framed wax tablets in front of him. “Recruiting goes very well sir. I estimate that we have the equivalent of two centuries of men so far, with more joining. All are being trained in the riding of horses with stapeda, sir.”

“With what?” Aurelianus asked, partly distracted by the report in front of him which seemed to be written in the terse language of the professional non-commissioned officer. Then he made the connection. “Oh, I see. Very clever – who thought of that?”

“I did sir – well, it was after a discussion with Valeria – um, a female civilian,” he said, his ears turning slightly pink. Then he almost visibly shook himself. “We should have sufficient trained men in a few months for a cohort’s worth.”

“Good,” Aurelianus said, before leaning back in his chair wearily. “Do you have any more news?”

Cato stirred slightly and inspected his boots for a moment before looking up. “Beg leave to report an incident sir.”

“What kind of incident?” Aurelianus asked carefully.

“It took place on the road to Eboracum sir,” Cato said, looking a bit strained. “I was exercising some of the new recruits when I was approached by an officer from the Eboracum garrison. He was... an excitable gentleman.”

Translating this in his head Aurelianus knew that Cato was basically saying in NCO-language that the officer was an officious imbecile. “Did this excitable gentleman have a name?”

“Yes sir. Flavius Claudius Constantinus, sir.”

Oh in the name of Christ, Aurelianus thought despairingly. Not that idiot. Yes, he hated the Vitalinus clan with their nest in Glevum, but he despised Constantinus because he was a charismatic idiot with no head for reality. Worse, he’d been making loud noises about the need to go to Gaul with the new volunteers and ‘put matters right again’, which was the kind of thing that Maximus Magnus had dribbled just before he’d announced that he was the Emperor of the West.

“Very well, Centurion, what happened between you and this officer?”

Cato shifted uneasily on his feet. “Well sir, like I said, we were training when he approached. And he looked at the stapeda, sir, and he laughed at them and asked me what we were doing with such silly toys.”

Aurelianus looked at Cato and could tell at a glance that the Centurion was not a man to tease when it came to his invention. “What happened then?”

“Well sir, I told him the purpose of the stapeda, but he refused to listen and all he wanted to do was make fun of them and tell his own men that when he was in charge this kind of nonsense would be ended. Then he asked me who I was and what I was doing and who had given me orders.”

Aurelianus suppressed a wince. “And what did you tell him?”

“That I was training men under your command sir. He made a number of derogotary comments about you sir and then he claimed that the stapeda were toys again sir. So I told him again what they could do. I don’t think he believed me sir. Anyway, he challenged me to a practice fight on horseback sir, him against me.”

“He did?” Aurelianus asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“Yes sir,” Cato said, looking even more shifty. “So we both mounted up with wooden swords for weapons and then when he said so we charged at each other.”

Aurelianus stood up and walked over to the table to one side where he poured himself a goblet of unwatered wine. “And what happened then Centurion?”

“Well sir,” Cato rumbled, carefully inspecting his boots again, “When I got near him I rose up and I clobbered him one sir. I mean, I broke his sword and knocked him clean off his horse.”

“Did you really?” Aurelianus asked with a barely suppressed grin. “What did he say to that?”

“Not a lot sir, because he landed on his head and broke his neck,” Cato said uncomfortably.

Aurelianus stood there for a long moment, looking at Centurion Cato. “Have some wine Cato,” he said eventually, pouring the rich red liquid into a second goblet. “I think you deserve it. What did his officers say?”

“Begging your pardon sir, but they said that he was an idiot,” said Cato as he accepted the goblet.

“Oh, so he was,” Aurelianus replied cheerfully as he sat back down again. “Right. When we have a cohort’s worth of men you’re going to be the Primus Pilus.”

“Thank you very much sir,” Cato said faintly and then look a very large gulp of wine. “Can I ask why sir?”

“Because you’ve just rid Britannia of the biggest military idiot on the Island,” said Aurelianus. “More wine?”
 
All Right! Except ...

Is this Constantine the IIIrd, or the Constantine who was High King before Vortigern? That is a real question. . .

But if it was Constatine the IIIrd, he will never take the last Romano-British forces to die in Gaul. He was the man who put finis on Roman Britain, and we know next to nothing about him. . .
 
Is this Constantine the IIIrd, or the Constantine who was High King before Vortigern? That is a real question. . .

But if it was Constatine the IIIrd, he will never take the last Romano-British forces to die in Gaul. He was the man who put finis on Roman Britain, and we know next to nothing about him. . .

It's Constantine III. And you're right - we very little about him bar his name. So I decided to get rid of him fairly early on. :D
 
Is this Constantine the IIIrd, or the Constantine who was High King before Vortigern? That is a real question. . .

But if it was Constatine the IIIrd, he will never take the last Romano-British forces to die in Gaul. He was the man who put finis on Roman Britain, and we know next to nothing about him. . .

Those are the same guy, actually. (Well, more or less.)

Much of the early British history we have is... confused.
 
Thank you for this great time line

Thank you for this great time line. I have often wondered if better use of horse soldiers with good equipment would have made a difference toward the end of the Western Empire. Also, the way that this is written makes it fun to read. I hope that you continue this time line since I am very interested in how it develops.
 
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