The Battle of Hadrianople

The first known sighting of Goblins by a Roman citizen occurred in the year 1130 AUC, when the future emperor Flavius Theodosius was visiting the Dacian estates of one of his clients.¹ The Iberian General, as he was affectionately known to his men, was making a last round of friends and allies before putting his legion, the famous IX, into winter quarters. This visitation followed an old Roman tradition by allowing patron and client to exchange gifts and reaffirm allegiances while enjoying generous entertainments.

Background to the Battle

The client in this case was Athanaric, King of the Visigoths. Only a generation before, the Visigoths had themselves been invaders of the Empire but, as so many had before, they had been defeated and tamed into Roman allies (socii), defending her frontiers. As king, Athanaric's father had received vast holdings, much of which was north of the Ister River (sometimes called the Danube), in the province of Dacia. Theodosius' father had gained the respect of the youthful Athanaric, and Theodosius himself had gained the friendship of Athanaric in his maturity.²

The King took the General on a hunt of several days' duration, based out of a hunting lodge on the northern reaches of his estates. It was on this expedition that the first encounter happened, so portentious for the future. Somewhere near the Drave River, probably in the Sende Hills, and probably in early October, Theodosius, proconsul of the Empire, saw a Goblin.

We cannot speak of this encounter, so important to the history of Altearth, without introducing the incomparable Ingilene, who saved Theodosius' life that day. She was the daughter of Athanaric: a woman of about seventeen years. Orosius describes her as "dark-haired and fair of skin, dark-eyed and light of heart, soft-spoken and iron-willed, of incomparable beauty."³ Allowing for the florid literary style that can make Orosius tedious to read, the description is likely accurate. The Visigoths were indeed dark-haired and dark-eyed, with light skin (compared with Mediterranean peoples, anyway). As for the rest, her actions bear out the description amply.

Ingilene was along because her father doted on her. The fact that a beautiful princess was still unmarried at seventeen is evidence enough of that. She herself loved the hunt (though, by reports, not the kill) and had plenty of experience. The king had no other children and no queen. He was a staunch Roman who cared little for the old tribal inheritance. No man was good enough for his daughter and he probably fully intended to keep her with him until he himself passed away.

So Ingilene rode with them that fateful day. Despite the many tales, we know very little of what actually happened. Orosius, the court secretary who personally interviewed the aged Theodosius on these points, has only this brief and typically vague passage:

The Proconsul hunted until noon, and the mules were burdened with game. As the hunters dined in a small glade, a band of one thousand Goblins appeared. Great was the consternation among the Romans, who had never seen such creatures. The Proconsul stood clear-eyed among them and met the attack blow for blow. Brave King Athanaric stood by his side, even as men and horses alike fled in terror or cast themselves upon the ground. Through sheer force of numbers, the monsters threatened to overwhelm King and Proconsul alike. But now comes the incomparable Ingilene, flying through the air on invisible wings. With a great wind she knocks aside the monsters. With white arms she lifts the heroes. With a graceful bound she carries them away to safety. ⁴

The passage is typical Orosius: vague, melodramatic, yet close enough to what we know from other sources to be tantalizing. Certainly there were not a thousand Goblins. But certainly the horses would have run. Had Ingilene already learned to command the winds? Probably not. But all sources agree that she leaped to safety, carrying her father and Theodosius with her.

Whatever the details, one fact is incontrovertible: Goblins had arrived within the confines of the Empire. From this day forward, everything would be different, even down to our own times.

Theodosius, ever the man of action, did not hesitate or waver. He knew what to do. Sending Athanaric and the others back to the villa, Theodosius himself rode hard for his legion, encamped a good hundred miles to the south. He arrived after two days and mobilized his men at once.. Leaving only a small force to guard the camp, he forthwith marched back to Athanaric's main villa, south of the Serrorum Mountains.

Battle of the Willows,
October 1130

Meanwhile, Athanaric returned to his villa, known as The Willows, as quickly as he could. Upon arriving, he set about arranging for its defense. This is good evidence that the Goblin force had to be small, for had they known of the size of the Goblin force, they would instead have evacuated at once.

It took six days for Theodosius to reach the IX, mobilize it, and return to The Willows. By that time, scouts reported that a Goblin force of some size, perhaps five or six thousand, was rapidly approaching. Theodosius ordered Athanaric to get his people packed up at once, even as he moved the IX into position to give battle.

The Battle of The Willows ensued the very next day, some time around the Ides of October (the exact date is not clear). This was the first battle between the Roman Empire and an army of the Wild. Orosius tells us that Theodosius was amazed at how the Goblins fought: disorganized, ill-disciplined, yet insanely ferocious and ultimately effective; how they fought as an entire people, with women and children and livestock present on the battlefield; and most notably their use of the "green fire" that burned and could not be extinguished.⁵

Roman arms prevailed that day, however. It should be remembered that the Goblins, for their part, had never encountered an enemy like these Romans. A trained, disciplined, and well-led army will triumph over Goblins every time, though it would be long before this was well understood. In particular, they had never seen an enemy so implacable. The Roman lines bent, but they did not panic and they did not break. The Goblins therefore allowed themselves to be pressed back into the swampy ground near the river, where they were overrun and slaughtered by the hundreds.

The victory at The Willows probably did as much harm as good. For, back in Constantinople, no matter how frightening this new enemy, people told themselves that Roman arms had prevailed before and so surely would again. As a result, the Romans were content to believe its borders were well guarded. They were soon to learn how terribly wrong they were.

Meanwhile, the events of that fall had set into motion figures who would be crucial to preserving the Empire. Foremost among these was Theodosius himself. After the battle at The Willows, he placed his troops far up the Ister in a well-fortified position known as the Iron Gates, near the town of Ad Median, with orders to make sure no Goblins got past them. Leaving his men under the command of his praetor, Albus Ammianus, Theodosius went directly to Constantinople.

Theodosius tries to warn the City

This involved a certain amount of risk. A general was not supposed to leave his province without the Emperor's permission, which Theodosius certainly did not have. He was far from imperial favor as it was, mainly due to his father's treason, and this move could have cost him much. Valens, however, was far away in Antioch, busy with the many details of victory following his successful campaign against Persia.⁶ More immediately, Theodosius ran the risk of exposing himself to certain enemies nearer to home: specifically, Maximus and Lupicinus.

Gnaeus Maximus Cauca was governor of Moesia and was almost a caricature of the avaricious aristocrat. He was, as he would mention to anyone and everyone, of "true Roman" lineage. He justified his lust for wealth as nothing more than a traditional Roman need to live according to his station. He was "narrow of mind, small of stature, but fixed of purpose where money was concerned."⁷ His colleague and accomplice was Lucius Lupicinus, a career army man who had risen through the ranks by sheer duplicity and an amazing ability to make people believe his promises despite all the evidence.

It was once fashionable to place entire blame for the disaster of 1131 upon these two men. After all, for all of his faults, Emperor Valens had just won a brilliant campaign against Persia, a far more sophisticated foe than Goblins. How could he be blamed? Moreover, in Maximus and Lupicinus we have two of the most unpleasant characters to walk the stage of Roman history. Faced with a series of crucial choices, these two not only chose themselves over Rome, but seemingly went out of their way to compound misfortune every way they cuold. Truly, as one historian put it, "had they been less inept, [they] might be called the greatest villains of the Ancient World."⁸

By coming to Constantinople in December of 1130 (either on the 11th or the 12th), Theodosius placed himself squarely into their hands. When he arrived, he suspected nothing. Instead, he set about presenting his case to the Senate. His requests were simple enough, but their scope staggered the Conscript Fathers. He asked for two more legions; he asked the Emperor to return; and he asked that the Ister be closed, by burning every ferry on the great river and secured by building fortifications on the right bank and having the river itself patrolled by boats. He also asked that the IX be allowed to withdraw to the right bank of the Ister.

Needless to say, this cause d a great commotion in the Senate. One senator after another rose to condemn Theodosius for hysteria, frivolity, cowardice, or overweening ambition (they argued he wanted to move the IX in order to threaten the City). His request was rejected on the spot.

That evening, Theodosius paid a visit on an old friend, and thereby nearly wrecked his career but very probably saved the Empire.

Julianus was the scion of an ancient and noble family.⁹ While not quite fallen on hard times, they were much reduced though still influential politically, and Julianus was its one best hope for the future. Unfortunately, he apepared to be uninterested in the family's future. Instead, he spent his time in amusements and diversions, which consisted largely of poking fun at the ruling elite. His pranks were famous, his parties infamous.

How he managed to befriend the rather dour Theodosius is a bit of a mystery. We meet Julianus only after the friendship was fully formed. We know that Theodosius would go into the seedier parts of town with Julianus, drifting from one tavern to another, hanging out with the common folk, including actors, musicians, thieves and other low-lifes. We know that he enjoyed going along with Julianus' practical jokes. While the two men seem very different, yet they could often be found in one tavern or another, long after all the place was closed, talking politics or philosophy. Theodosius once said Julianus was the only man who could make him laugh. To which Julianus replied, in typical fashion, that Theodosius was the only man who did not make him weep.¹⁰

A Famous Prank

Julianus knew about the Goblins, as did everyone in the City by this time. He had listened to Theodosius' pleas in the Senate. By that evening, he had arranged with his cronies, among whom were several actors, to create Goblin costumes. After a respectable time spent drinking, Theodosius and Julianus, along with several friends, got themselves up as Goblins and spent most of the remainder of the night terrorizing various senators in their homes. One of the high points came when they barged in on Flavius Tertius Flaccus, who was entertaining, and proceeded to sit down dressed in their ludicrous Goblin costumes, to dine and converse with the guests in grunts and squeals.

It would have all been in fun except for what happened at the home of Marcus Licinius. Julianus' "Goblins" paid them a visit, and at some point, a fire broke out.

Damage to the home was limited, but damage to Theodosius and Julianus was serious. A charge of arson was brought, along with burglary, both crimes being the worse for having been committed at night. Penalties for such crimes were severe and would ruin both men and their families.

From the beginning, Julianus claimed they were framed, and circumstantial evidence seems to support him. The most telling evidence is that Licinius settled without trial, but Theodosius was forced give up the IX. That is hardly appropriate to a crime of arson. Moreover, Julianus was banished from Constantinople for one year (it would surely have been more but for the great influence of his mother). There were heavy fines, of course, but the key here is that the punishments were essentially political in nature and benefited Lupicinus and Maximus, friends of Marcus Licinius.

As Grün has argued, though, not all the evidence is on Julianus' side. No one could have had prior knowledge of the prank. So, if it was a frame-up, we must believe that Licinius, or one of his slaves, was awakened in the dead of night by screeching, cavorting monsters, deduced this was Julianus, and concluded that here was a political opportunity. He then cold-bloodedly set fire to her own home, but so cleverly that it did not spread.

That's quite a large supposition. The present author holds with the via media that argues the fire started by accident, perhaps even after the pranksters left. Once the fire was put out, Marcus Licinius saw an opportunity and seized it.

We can never know. All our sources give only the version favorable to the future Emperor. What's certain is that the result of the night's adventure was exile and disgrace. Worse, it meant that Maximus and Lupicinus were left unfettered, and the Ister line would be left unguarded.

The signs of a descending cataclysm were everywhere. Refugees, mostly Visigoth, fled across the Ister into Moesia from late November onward. They told horrific stories of atrocities, including the roasting of live horses and the awful Goblinfire. They spoke of armies in the millions, devouring everything that lived.

Exploitation of the Visigoths

For Maximus, the flood of refugees was not a warning but an opportunity. He despised the Visigoths because of some old grudges and because he despised anything not Roman, and they were the physical manifestation of aliens and alien-ness. This was an opportunity to destroy the Visigoths as a people. Even better, it was an opportunity to grow immensely wealthy doing so.

Lupicinus, likewise, saw only opportunity. He hoped and longed for the Goblin hordes, because he wanted to be the man who saved Rome. He was furious when he learned that Valens was to come and fight the Goblins. He truly believed he could destroy their hordes with his two legions. But financing was an issue. Lupicinus was deeply in debt and could not begfin to raise the money needed for a spring expedition into Dacia. He was not highly regarded by Valens, and so could hope for nothing from the Imperial court.

Then along came the Visigoths. Maximus first ensured that Lupicinus and his XXIII legion controlled the crossing points, then he proceeded to charge the Visigoths for the crossing: the standard price was one child per family, plus all their weapons. He then used soldiers to shepherd the Visigoths into camps, where he controlled the food supply. Lupicinus and the XXIII controlled the Visigoths. Between them, they systematically robbed (they called it taxation) the refugees of everything they had. By February 1131 the Visigoths were starving to death and were beginning to sell their own children into slavery in order to save them. Maximus and his cronies sold the licenses for the slave markets and then bought most of the children themselves on the cheap. Maximus was brutally efficient, going so far as to slaughter dogs in his province by the thousands and selling the meat.

By April, the Visigoths were truly on the brink of destruction, two hundred thousand of them now scattered and dying. Maximus used his sudden wealth to finance luxury in Hadrianople and to buy influence at court. Lupicinus had his invasion plans (though evidently they were still just plans-the XXIII was fully occupied with controlling and exploiting the refugees). But by April it was far too late. The Goblins were on the move.

Goblins at the Ister

The Goblin Horde was unique in history. Never again have so many disparate Goblin tribes been united under one leader. That leader was a giant Goblin called Kniva.

Somehow he had gained the loyalty of hundreds of Goblin warchiefs. The unprecedented unity was probably due to the threat posed by the Orcks. He had led them out of the steppes of Russia. In October, he led them down to the Ister, the Great River, and there they had stopped.

Goblins hate and fear open water. They can be induced to wade, but no Goblin can swim, and they despise boats.¹¹ Most likely, at that time, no Goblin had ever even seen a boat. When confronted with the mile-wide river, they turned aside and began heading upstream. It took them two months to reach the IX, encamped at the Iron Gates, for they pillaged widely every step of the way. Their assault on February Kalends was half-hearted, for Goblins ever prefer the easy plunder to the hard fight. They turned around because their slave spies told of even more Romans ahead (this must have been Gratian's forces).

The return downstream was even slower because they had to raid even more widely for supplies. Dacia was stripped bare. Over and over again they tried the Ister, but always its width, its depth, and its treacherous currents defeated them. Sometimes they would camp at the river edge and their mages would cast fire upon it, recalling Xerxes having his slaves whip the sea with chains.

It took them until late May or early June before they reached the Six Mouths of the Ister River, and its swamps and wide waters were utterly unpassable.

They were in desperate straits. Food was short and plunder had become scarce. Moreover, they had been moving all spring back in the direction of the steppes. Apparently the horde was close to dissolving, and Kniva had to kill more than one clanchief to keep authority.

The Goblins Cross the Ister

Then, somehow, they learned to use boats. The old story of Pausanias the Epirote has long been proved untrue, though it resurfaces endlessly, and yet there may well have been some unscrupulous individual, operating from revenge or greed, who carried over a band of Goblins.¹² A single band of Goblins, but it was enough.

For, Lupicinus had ignored all of Theodosius' recommendations and warnings. There were no patrol boats on the river. Not all the landings had been burned. And a good many ferryboat captains had bribed soldiers and officials to allow them to hide their boat rather than burn it. Most of these did not survive the summer to regret their corruption.

The single Goblin band promptly seized the landing and sent the boat back for more. Within a day, hundreds were ranging up and down the river for more ferry boats, and more landings. Within two days it was thousands, within three it was tens of thousands. Within a week, the entire Goblin Horde was south of the Ister, inside the Roman Empire.

Even as reports began coming back to Lupicinus at Hadrianople (he'd spent the winter there), he failed to act decisively. Instead, he tried to stem the tide with the forces at hand, because he did not want the Emperor to know what was happening. He thought he could deal with the invaders himself (he discounted the estimates of numbers), and no one would be the wiser.

Arrival of Valens

Then came the news that shook Lupicinus from his lethargy: Valens had arrived in Constantinople. There had been rumors the Emperor would come north, but it remained speculation until suddenly, one day, like a thunderbolt, there he was, and with four legions in tow.

Valens was not a fool. He'd been hearing reports-about the Goblins, about the Visigoths, about Maximus and Lupicinus. What stirred him to action, though, was news that his nephew, Gratian, intended to drive down from Rhaetia with his western legions, to "help" destroy the invaders. Valens feared Gratian as a rival. He could not afford to let his handsome and popular nephew so close to the capital with a large army.

So, Valens hurriedly packed up four legions-they happened to be his best, as they had returned to Antioch after the Persian campaign. He would win a great victory over these "green-skinned barbarians" and then he would see to some much-needed housecleaning.¹³

Valens spent only ten days at Constantinople-just enough time to get all the men ashore and organized. He then marched to Hadrianople and pitched camp there, mainly because he discovered that the Goblins were close by. Instead of a decisive raid into Dacia, three hundred miles to the north, the Emperor found himself fighting the monsters practically on the doorstep of his capital.

He was, nevertheless, confident. Valens was always a confident ruler, or at least was a ruler who was full of courage and braggadoccio. He was not an attractive figure: short, bandy legs, dark complexion, small eyes, and a round pot-belly that gets mentioned in every source that describes him. He had a short temper and a long memory. But he had proved himself in battle many times and his generals had confidence in his abilities on the battlefield.

The mistake he made here, though, was that he accepted what he was told about the nature and disposition of the enemy and never checked it out for himself. He acted precipitously because he wanted a quick victory and because he had convinced himself that he needed a quick victory. His nephew was on the march and was asking him to wait. If Valens did wait, he would appear to be following Gratian, to be his junior, to be unsure. That would never do. The battle was here, it was offered, and Valens had no thought of delaying it. He had six legions: the four Syrian legions he had brought with him from Antioch, the XXIII under Lupicinus, and the IX under Ammianus. He also had a small force of auxiliaries under the command of Theodosius, but he gave them scarcely a second thought.

Winter at the White Villa

The story of Theodosius and Ingilene over that winter has been told many times. It is a story both appealing and important, and so has been embellished endlessly.¹⁴ But even the bare facts are remarkable.

Theodosius had already seen that Ingilene had extraordinary powers, from their first encounter with Goblins in October. Preoccupied with matters military and political, Theodosius now had time to return to the young woman, as she was staying at his estate near the Ister.

The White Villa, as it was known (for both the buildings and the walls were all whitewashed adobe), had become a refuge for the Visigoths. The general had specifically allowed Athanaric and Ingilene, along with the survivors from The Willows, to reside there. Naturally enough, other Visigoths were soon coming there, begging for refuge. To the extent possible, the White Villa took them all in. It is a testament to the strength of character of the young Ingilene that she took it upon herself to turn away her own people when she saw the resources of the Villa were becoming strained.

This was the situation when Theodosius arrived. He at once called upon all the resources he could, but there were simply too many starving Visigoths. Even so, they crowded into the surrounding hills and valleys, hoping that their king and princess would find a way to help them.

Among the refugees were Mancers.¹⁵ They came quite specifically because of Ingilene. As Visigoth society deteriorated, Mancers became objects of suspicion among their own people. But Ingilene's status was so great, she was able to protect them. Among the first to arrive were some of those who would prove so important in the coming weeks: Sigeric, Vallia, Euric the Elder, Tulga and her brother Recared, were all at the White Villa when Theodosius arrived that winter.

Origin of the Mancers

Theodosius at once recognized the possibilities here. He spent a month working with them, discovering their powers. He soon invented drills for them and experimented with formations.¹⁶ He spent his evenings with Ingilene, trying to work out how Visigoth Mancers might be employed in battle with the Goblins. The pyroMancer Sigeric often contributed to these planning sessions.

In mid-January, he made a trip back to Constantinople, to request permission to form an auxiliary corps. He was vague on the details, saying only that his single cohort would serve as a kind of border patrol. By this time, Rome was becoming concerned by the steady stream of reports regarding the Goblins. Throwing a few of these beggar Visigoths at the monsters seemed a good idea, and so the general received authorization and some modest funding.

Returning to the White Villa the following week, Theodosius discovered that in his absence, Maximus had sent in troops. A brief but furious battle had broken out, in which the Mancers fought Roman soldiers on the Burned Hill. They were led by the headstrong Ataulf, and one Thorismund fell in in the fight. Worse losses would have been endured except Ingilene waded into the midst of the fray and achieved a truce. Peace was achieved only when the Visigoths agreed to disperse.

The general was furious, but in the long run the event proved beneficial. Those who remained, including all the Mancers, he was able to support by somehow tying them to the creation of his auxiliary cohort. He used the army funds to feed them and get them through the winter. The rest of the Visigoths scattered into the surrounding countryside. Some supported themselves by raiding, while others received surreptitious help from the White Villa.

Now work began in earnest. Theodosius and Ingilene came up with a unique method of operation: the Mancers would work in small groups of twelve: five Mancers and seven aides. Of the Mancers, one was some sort of healer (including the most famous of them, Colias). There weren't enough of these, so in some units, the fifth Mancer was simply an herbalist. The aides managed the horses and supplies, and provided armed support in the form of arrows, slings, and long knives-the traditional Visigoth arsenal.

These units, known as duodecem, were to operate completely independently of one another. This was a radical innovation in Roman military practice, which relied upon massed formations for its strength. Theodosius at first inclined in that direction, but soon saw that this would be unworkable. What's most notable is that he didn't simply turn the Mancers loose; rather, he actually trained them to operate as small units. And, even more remarkably, he trained them to operate in such a way as to distract a larger, stronger enemy force and disrupt its ability to attack regular Roman forces. He did so out of purely selfish interests, of course-he was trying to do what he could to protect is beloved IX from what he saw as impending catastrophe. In doing so, though, he also created the first effective battle group of magicians.

All through these months (December through June), Theodosius and Ingilene worked together closely. He was handsome and accomplished, she was beautiful and talented. It was only natural that the two should become interested in each other.

Their romance was as passionate as it was brief. It was not an ordinary love, despite the many fictional works based on it, for these were not ordinary people nor ordinary times. It was more like the combination of two volatile chemicals, two quite different people brought together under conditions of extreme pressure. Both saw their worlds on the brink of destruction. Both saw in themselves and in each other the one hope of saving everything.

Their relationship was common knowledge, and since Athanaric openly approved, the two lovers did not have to skulk about. Their duties often pulled them in different directions, but each evening they dined together and talked long into the night.

The romance appears to have furthered the greater cause. Visigoths and Romans alike saw their leaders together, united, and so they themselves found ways to work with one another, despite the flagrant oppression and dangers around them. As Theodosius and Ingilene came together, so their followers likewise stood together against all the threats from outside. They created a fortress of strength and unity, based on the new-found power of magic.

Disposition of Troops

So the winter passed away. Thousands of Visigoths had died. Countless families and clans had dissolved under the stress of famine and poverty. And everyone knew that worse was to come. The mood at the White Villa, and indeed elsewhere in Moesia, was grim. Even the capital was gloomy.

In late July, the Emperor arrived. The Romans took heart then, for the Syrian legions were with him and they had a proud record of victories. The wolf-head of the XVII, the great bear of the III, the boar-hound of the XII, and the red banners of the V streamed along the great road to encamp north of city of Hadrian. Here was power to thwart the Goblins, the Romans told one another.

Maximus was delighted, for he was eager to entertain the Emperor in luxurious style. Lupicinus was delighted, for the Goblin situation was threatening to overwhelm him and now it would be someone else's problem.

But the Visigoths knew only that there were more Roman soldiers, which could mean only more misery for themselves. And these newcomers did not seem to understand that they were about to go up against something unlike anything they'd ever seen. The Visigoths starved and worried, stole bread when they could, and wondered if they would see the green fire.

Valens brought with him four legions: the III, V, XII, and XIV. The IX was already deployed in Upper Moesia, and the XXIII, under Lupicinus, was along the Ister in Lower Moesia. Lupicinus was, in fact, frantically engaged in trying to stem the Goblin invasion before Valens could find out how bad things had got.

For Lupicinus had badly neglected his duties. He had become so engaged in Maximius' lucrative project, he had pulled most of his cohorts away from the river patrol and engaged them in guarding and harassing the Visigoths. The soldiers, for the most part, were more than happy to do this. Not only did this get them away from the boring and unsettling job of making sure green monsters didn't cross the river (by this time most had convinced themselves that the Goblins could never find a way to cross), it put them in a position to profit directly from Maximius' exploitations. Few soldiers anywhere, in any army, can long resist the temptation of quick profits, and everyone knew that these profits would be had quickly or not at all.

So, the XXIII was levying the "taxes" and guarding refugee encampments when reports began arriving of Goblin bands raiding across the Roman Canal below Axiopolis. No one knows where they crossed, exactly. Historians have "proven" crossings everywhere from Capidava all the way down to the Sarmatica Islands at the river's mouths. Goblin legends would imply the latter, for they speak of being led through harrowing swamps. But this could apply equally well to the Trosnian Marshes or the so-called Wastes of the Getae (Getarum Solitudo).¹⁸

All the ferries should have been destroyed. That had been the advice of Theodosius, so of course Lupicinus had not followed it. Or, rather, he'd begun to follow it but had let greed get the better of him. The ferrymen and boatmen and fishermen of the Ister depended on their boats. Burning them, and burning the landings and docks, was like burning their own homes. So they told Lupicinus, in numerous petitions. Evidently, some petitions were accompanied by substantial bribes, for some stations did not burn. Others, too poor to offer a bribe, simply hid their boats, and operated when no soldiers were around. As the months passed, fewer and fewer soldiers were around.

Consequently, when the Goblin bands appeared on the south side of the river, they found boats and landings. They themselves could not steer, but they captured and enslaved those who could. They quickly learned to threaten family members with the green fire. Few men were brave enough to resist such cruelty.

The more Goblins who crossed, the more boats were seized. The trickle became a flood, and the flood spread upstream by leaps and bounds. The Goblin Horde was stretched along two hundred miles of river, spread out in order to find enough food to live. They were hungry and restless and, we know now, fearful of what was pursuing them from the East. So they shut their eyes and climbed into the boats. Eyewitnesses tell how Goblins, upon reaching the safety of the opposite shore, leaped and yelped, which is the Goblin version of laughter, so pleased they were to have survived such a perilous journey.¹⁹

Lupicinus made so many mistakes, it's difficult to call any one of them his first one. Let us simply say that yet another mistake he made, he made now, upon hearing the first reports of Goblin incursion. He assumed that the Goblins had made some sort of breakthrough and would now be pouring through the breech. So he sent as many troops as he felt he could spare (the Visigoth pickings having become exceedingly slim) marching to hold the Roman canal, roughly the line from Axiopolis, on the Ister, to Tomi, on the coast.

Those cohorts, of course, soon found an alarming number of Goblins on their left flank, and virtually none in front of them. Even more alarming, in some ways, was the fact that the Goblins seemed uninterested in attacking. A little reconnoitering revealed what was going on—that the Goblins were busy seizing boats and crossing the Ister en masse. The praetor in command, one Callixtus Ennius, took it upon himself to countermand his orders, and marched his men post-haste back over the Haemus Mountains. He thereby bought them a few more weeks of life.

When Lupicinus received the news, he knew he was in trouble. That's when he gathered up his entire legion and led it in a series of skirmishes against the Goblins, who by this time (mid-July) were crossing as far upriver as Durostorum. Lupicinus never pressed these positions, however. Instead, he fought Goblins where he found them-mainly outrider and forager bands, all of whom he defeated. He was pleased with himself. He would diminish the Goblin Horde piecemeal, and present the Emperor with an easy victory.

Once Valens arrived, Lupicinus was ordered back. It was time for the Emperor to achieve his victory, settle some matters in Constantinople, and return to his beloved Antioch.

Battle of Hadrianople

The Battle of Hadrianople is one of the defining moments in all world history. For all its importance, our sources are frustratingly vague in the details. We can see the battle from afar, as it were, catching glimpses through the dust. This narrative sets down the best modern scholarship has to say on the business.²⁰

The Goblins were encamped about twelve miles north of Hadrianople, on flat ground between two small rivers, south of the Haemus Mountains. They were in their famous laager-a great circle of waggons with a crude palisade out front-that created a kind of mobile fortification for the Goblins. They sat inside their laager and awaited the attack.

This confused the Romans, and most of the morning was wasted in various futile reconaissances. The delay was critical, for the Goblins had sent out a large force to forage the day before. Upon seeing the Roman forces, Kniva sent messengers for the foragers to return (there were perhaps twenty thousand of these). So, unknown to Valens, there was a large force of Goblins marching even as he was deploying.

It was August 9 and the summer sun beat down upon the men as they stood in their ranks, waiting hour after hour for the order to attack. It came, finally, in the early afternoon, around 1pm. Three Syrian legions were in the center, with the III in reserve. The XXIII was on the right flank and the IX was on the left.

As the Romans engaged the laager, their lines began to bend around the circle, thereby dangerously exposing flanks and rear. The next two hours saw hard fighting, but the Romans appear to have been pressing hard.

Then the foraging party returned. They at once attacked the right flank of the lines, which was mostly the XXIII. Lupicinus panicked at once, issuing conflicting orders, and the panic quickly spread to the other men. The Goblins crashed into them full force and within minutes the XXIII was dissolving.

Kniva now unleashed his Goblinmages. He had held them back until now because there was a great danger of the green fire igniting the waggons. His gamble paid off, though, for it completely undid the Roman horse. The cavalry was also posted on the right and were in fact in the process of beginning a counter-stroke against the Goblin foragers. But the sight and smell of Goblinfire sent all the horses mad, and the cavalry, like the XXIII legion, soon utterly disintegrated.

Now came Kniva's final stroke. The Goblin Horde itself poured out of every side of the laager. At such close range, their javelins did a reaper's work. Their sheer numbers were overwhelming. And the Goblinfire wreaked both terror and destruction.

Valens fought bravely. He stood his ground, urging men to rally to him. He was wounded repeatedly but would not yield. Finally, he was so badly hurt that he fell to the ground, and his bodyguard picked him up and carried him to safety in a nearby peasant hut.

The rout was total. Of all the legions, on the IX retained some cohesion, and Theodosius played a significant part there, which will be related further on. As the sun sank in the western hills, the Goblins swept the field, killing everyone they caught. Of forty thousand Roman soldiers who marched out that day, fewer than five thousand returned to their camp in the darkness. Roman arms had not suffered such a defeat since the days of Hannibal at Cannae.

Valens himself was killed. He was discovered by the Goblins, who were driven back by the fierce defense of the Imperial bodyguard. They tried coming through the roof, but the roof collapsed. So they stepped back, three Goblinmages stepped up, and all were burned alive in the green fire.²¹

The Mancers at Hadrianople

The role played by Theodosius in the Battle of Hadrianople was tactically very small. His Visigoth auxiliaries did provide a minor diversion and probably relieved at least some pressure on the flanks of the IX, but they in no sense "saved" the IX from destruction, as older views would have it. His activities were significant more in that they helped prepare him for the defense of Constantinople.

The IX was called down from its winter quarters at the Iron Gates in March 1131. They passed near to the White Villa and Ammianus took the opportunity to pay a visit to his beloved commander. The two men there set out a variety of strategies, depending on what form the coming disaster would take; for they were sure disaster was on its way. This is where is was agreed that Theodosius and his Mancers would watch the left flank of the IX.

During the actual battle, Theodosius had the Mancers posted along a front over a mile long, running north to south. They rode on horseback, like cavalry scouts. When they spotted the enemy, they dismounted and the horses were led away. They would then attack with fire or wind or ice, whatever skills they had, and try to get away before being overwhelmed. Not all of them made it. But they had the effect of making at least some Goblins chase them rather than attack the Roman legion.

For his part, Theodosius operated a kind of mobile headquarters all through that day, sending and receiving messengers, trying to apply as much pressure as he could. As he got word of the rout, he gave orders that the Mancers should return to camp. Once they were gathered, they set off at a quick march toward Hadrianople. There the general and his prefect had agreed to meet, should the worst happen.

Theodosius met with Ammianus at a small village about three miles outside Hadrianople. Both men knew the city could not be defended, though even they did not suspect Maximus would abandon the city without striking a blow. Given the situation, and especially considering the condition of the troops, it was agreed that Theodosius would go on to Constantinople to organize the defense there, while Ammianus would conduct a fighting retreat with the IX, picking up as many soldiers from other legions as possible. The Mancers under Ingilene would continue to aid the legion as auxiliaries.

Panic in Constantinople

That was on the 10th. Theodosius rode hard and arrived at Constantinople that same evening. He found the City in a complete panic. The Imperial court was paralyzed because so many of its key figures had died or fled. A dozen different officials were issuing orders, many of which were contradictory. He ignored them all, choosing instead to go first to his friend Julianus.

Julianus was already working with the Coprosi to mobilize the City's magical defenses. Theodosius made it clear that they had an important role to play. Tykonos was leery; he wanted assurances of protection. Theodosius could not provide that, and the Coprosi would not cooperate with it.

Theodosius spent the whole of the next day trying to find the Roman government, without success. At the end of the day, the City was no more prepared than at the start; indeed, it was probably worse off, as various efforts were undermining each other's work. To cite but one example, hundreds of men were, at the orders of one official, busy fortifying Kontoskalion Harbor, thereby taking them away from the urgent need to be fortifying the landward gates. Meanwhile, hundreds and perhaps thousands of refugees were pouring into the City, and almost no one was seeing to them. The result was that the streets nearest the walls were jammed with people, who began setting up makesshift shelters. Access to the walls by evening was almost completely choked off.

The IX arrived the next day, the 12th, slogging through heavy rains. The citizens cheered to see the Roman eagle, but the cheering faded as it became clear that this was the only legion that would be arriving. Five legions had been destroyed in pitched battle. Now only one, plus the tatters of others, would have to undertake the defense of the capital. Gloom, as gray as the skies, settled over Constantinople.

Theodosius was waiting for them at the Thracian Gate. He greeted the men as they arrived, speaking to individuals as he recognized them, commending them for their courage. Even those from other legions he embraced openly, telling them that they would avenge their brothers. Witnesses to the scene speak admiringly of how this Iberian General transformed the men by simply talking to them. No great speeches, indeed no words even worth recording. But somehow he found exactly the right words. Men trudged into the Dacian Gate heads down, shoulders slumped. They emerged from the other side with heads up, shoulders back. As one source puts it, "even their armor seemed in better trim, their blades brighter." ²² He was not yet in command of the City, nor was he yet Imperator, but Theodosius was clearly in command of the only Roman troops left in all of Thrace.

With his usual economy of motion, Theodosius was at the Gate not only to encourage disheartened soldiers. He was also carefully selecting his officer corps. One after another he pulled aside until he had a dozen or so. Ammianus was among the last to arrive. When he did, Theodosius had an entire command structure ready and waiting. Together they re-organized the IX into cohorts. Theodosius had to abandon the traditional legion organization because he had more like a legion and a half in sheer numbers. So he reverted to the cohort level, ten of them in all, assigning to each various duties and tasks. He even treated the Mancers as a cohort, with Ingilene as its commander. If the other officers were astonished to find a woman at the war table, there is no record of it.

Goblins Arrive Before Constantinople

The next day, the first creatures of the Wild laid eyes on the Imperial capital.

Goblins arrived at Constantinople the way they always do-piecemeal, in bands of a few score, without organization yet with deadly purpose. On that first day, the first ones were not the fastest but the weakest, forced away from the plunder at Hadrianople to find booty elsewhere. They arrived late on the 13th and even though a watch had been posted, the North Gate remained open until it was almost too late. A postern nearby was neglected at a handful of Goblins actually entered the City. They were overwhelmed by a mob, which dismembered them and paraded their heads around at the end of javelins.

That night was chaotic, filled with false alarms. People were awakened from their beds, rushed to the walls, only to find nothing whatever happening. Dawn found the citizens of New Rome poorly rested, jittery, and altogether grumpy.

Refugees continued to arrive, but in fewer numbers as more and more Goblins were arriving as well. Sometimes a wagon or a group on foot would be run down by Goblin bands and killed right under the walls of the City. The citizens shrieked and hurled stones, but could do little to save their fellow Humans from the monsters. In the soft morning light, the citizens of Constantinople got their first glimpse of the Goblin army. They saw the armor of horsehide and the hide caps. They saw the leather sandals so similar to the Roman style. They saw the oddly-curved swords, straight like a gladius but with a curving tip added to the length. And the innumerable spears favored by Goblins-spears for throwing, for jabbing, and even for fighting somewhat in the manner of a medieval quarterstaff, with a point at both ends. Use of steel in armor came much later, after centuries of influence from both Human and Orken.

That morning, the 14th, threatened to dissolve into chaos. No one was commanding, or rather there were dozens all claiming to command. A gate would be open. Then it would close. Then open again, as orders countermanded orders. Refugees might one moment be slaughtered before the walls, yet at another moment be allowed in. The crisis came at the Thracian Gate, which was left open far too long. Hundreds of Goblins broke through and stormed into the Forum of Arkadios. From there they ran unchecked through the side streets, down toward the Eleutherian harbor to the south, north toward the River Lykos, and further into the City, killing anyone who did not hide in their homes.

Goblins inside the City

Theodosius was nearby, at the Myrelaion. The soldiers of the IX were now very much under his command, and he had watches posted everywhere. He was quickly informed of the breakthrough. At once, he gave orders for the soldiers to assemble at the Forum Bovis (the Cattle Market). He guessed, correctly as it turned out, that while some Goblins might get as far as the Lykos, they would not bother to go up the narrow streets on the other side but would follow the flow of the little river downstream. The street from the Arkadian Forum and the River Lykos both met at the Forum Bovis.

The Iberian General again demonstrated his instinctive understanding of the new conditions of battle. He had only about half his legion at hand, the rest being still scattered about the City, yet he chose not to position them all in the Forum Bovis. Instead, he kept some there and posted others to the flanks, one above the Lykos, and the other between the Forum and the Harbor. He thus kept any Goblins from escaping, but it forced a mere cohort to meet the rush of about a thousand of the monsters and to hold at all costs. Theodosius was not worried about losing a battle here. He was concerned to eliminate the threat as quickly as possible, with as few losses as possible, so he could get his men up to the walls and a proper defense of the City.

He also took the Mancers in hand, ordering them to occupy the Forum of Arkadios and to kill all Goblins who might flee back in that direction. He was counting on all resistance collapsing when the monsters found themselves faced not only with Roman steel but also Roman magic.

Even as he was making these arrangements, various self-appointed leaders in the City were coming to his makeshift headquarters, asking for direction. It was as if a great beacon had been lit in a terrible storm. Every petty captain of every small ship was making for its steady light. Theodosius found time to give them orders, including ordering the closing of the Thracian, and of all Gates, to be opened again only upon his orders. Thus in the space of a mere hour did Theodosius of Iberia assume command of the defense of Constantinople.

The Goblin invaders were quickly destroyed. Theodosius' tactics worked perfectly. The Goblins congregated at the Forum Bovis and a fierce battle erupted. The Roman flanks closed in and the Goblins fled, whereupon they ran straight into the Visigoth Mancers, led by Saphrax. Since no Goblin mages had yet arrived, the invaders were defenseless against magic. They went berserk and were cut down piecemeal.

Theodosius Made Emperor

Word swept through the City that the Iberian General had saved Rome. Theodosius was at the Lykos Tower, the great tower (no longer in existence) that stood above the River Lykos as it entered the City, when he first heard the chant: Ave Caesare! Caesar Imperator! It appears to have begun among the citizens, but it was echoed by the troops soon enough. It was even taken up by the Visigoths.

It was extraordinary. Unprecedented. That morning, Theodosius was literally a private citizen (remember that Valens had allowed him to command the Visigoths, but had not actually granted him a title or office). By mid-day, he was Emperor, Augustus of the Eastern Empire. This leap into power is still so astonishing that historians have argued it must have been contrived, orchestrated by a man who had longed his whole life for power.²³

Those who so argue must nevertheless face some simple facts. The Imperial court was dead or fled. The Roman army had been all but wiped out. If Theodosius was greedy for power, all he had managed to grab was a single legion, a few thousand dispirited survivors and their barbarian allies, and a city that was facing a horde of monsters wielding the green fire. He could easily have run to Antioch, where two more legions were waiting, become emperor there. He could have fled west, to his at least sometime ally, Gratian.

Instead, he stood at the center of the storm, squarely in the face of the enemy, with resources that any sane man would have regarded as hopelessly inadequate. He stood, because he loved Rome and would not see it fall. He stood because he knew his duty when so many had forgotten. He took the title not because he was greedy for power, but because it was thrust upon him and he would not flinch from its burdens.

His first act as Emperor was to give to the Coprosi the guarantees they demanded. He legalized the order, and gave it protections and privileges, including the harbor warehouse in which they had held their secret meetings. Whereupon the talents of the Coprosi were added to the powers of the Mancers. They cast spells on the Gates and on the walls. Hydromancers cast spells upon the Horn, trying to find ways to raise the very waters up against the enemy. And those with battle magic went to the parapets, to cast fire and stone into the enemy ranks. These first efforts were modest enough, but they served notice to the enemy, and heartened the Roman people.

The rest of that day was spent in such skirmishing and preparation. Meanwhile, the first waggons began appearing over the low hills, and toward dusk, the first Goblin mages made their presence known.

The night was tense and uneasy. Fountains of Goblinfire erupted all night long, along with massive bonfires created from the buildings of the suburbs. Together they illuminated the darkness with a frightening combination of orange and green light.

But the night was also filled with tense passions. This was the last idyll of Theodosius and Ingilene, but it was the last idyll of many another couple that night, as well. Everyone knew that the next day would bring terrible, and perhaps final, battle.

First Assault

The 15th dawned with broken clouds and a brisk wind-the "scudding scarlet" of Pantormo.²⁴ It rained off and on that day, so that the ground outside the city was churned into a lake of mud.

Theodosius, along with Ammianus, Ingilene, Julianus, and Tykonos, met an assembly of the people in the Hippodrome. Tens of thousands stood in silence as he gave his famous "Wall of Rome" speech.²⁵ When he had finished, the cheer that went up was so loud that observers on the walls saw the Goblins themselves step back in astonishment.

From there, Theodosius went to the Lykos Tower, where he directed the defense of the City. It was not the greatest of the towers, but it commanded a view of the Horn Gate and the Dacian Gate, and he could almost see the Greek Gate to the south. He was at once beset with matters of command because the Goblins were already attacking.

No one living has seen such a sight, for Goblins have long been scattered across Europa, and nowhere do they approach the numbers of the Goblin hordes. A quarter of a million, perhaps, were before the City that day, but they did not attack together.

Instead, they attacked in bands of varying sizes, each apparently according to its own whims.

The waggons had been arriving all night. They pulled up well out of any possible range of weapon, perhaps even beyond the current (Theodosian) walls, which are about a half mile from the Constantinian walls. They stretched from the Horn to the Sea of Marmara, so numerous were they, and the Goblin warriors were encamped behind them.

Every now and again, bands ranging in size from a thousand down to a dozen suddenly burst forth from between the waggons, to come charging against the walls. They came on in their characteristic low-slung gait, shoulders forward, spear in either hand almost touching the ground. Goblins are ambidextrous, able to throw and fight with either hand, a fact that disconcerted the Roman soldier of the time almost as much as did the Goblinfire. They did not use shields in those days, either; another unnerving fact recorded by every chronicler we have.

These bands came up to the gates and smashed into them with whatever they had in hand. They stood beneath the walls and hurled their spears (the Romans quickly learned to gather up these spears and use them to return fire). They even tried to scramble up the walls themselves, their heavy-nailed fingers able to find purchase in the many crannies and ledges formed by the unfinished stone.

Each band chose to press the attack or to retreat as it saw fit. But, as the sun climbed through the morning sky, more and more bands came forward, so that the assault became continuous, frightening by the sheer unrelenting chaos.

The Gates stood firm. The few that scaled the walls were hurled back to their deaths. But some of the spears found their mark, and the loss of each Roman needed a score of Goblin deaths to pay for it. The Romans diminished but the Goblins seemed to be unending.

Around midday, the first Goblinmages entered the fray. Where they did, a kind of order took form among the monsters. A bodyguard of sorts formed up, or at least no Goblinmage was ever seen to stand alone. In front of them, though, no one stood, for the green fire was fearsome even to their own kind.

This was the heroic age for Goblins, and their mages were greater than any in our own day. Our sources say that they could hurl the fire a hundred yards, but modern calculations show it could not have been more than half that. For we know that the Goblinmages had to approach the walls close enough that they themselves could be struck by a well-shot arrow. To reach the parapets with the green fire, which we know they did, this would give us a maximum range of forty yards or so. ²⁶

Most of the soldiers on the walls had seen the Goblinmages before and did their best to avoid the fires. But casualties were still taken, and ultimately the only defense was to drive them off by standing up, risking the fire, to launch arrows in sufficient numbers to cause the Goblinmages to withdraw. Surprisingly, one of the most effective units in this regard were a contingent of slingers from Crete, positioned at the south end, near the Hellas Gate.

The Mancers were there, but they were too few to make much of a difference. They were most effective against the ordinary Goblin soldiers, and especially near the Gates, where they were busily employed in driving away Goblins with axes who were trying to batter down the great wooden doors. The doors did not burn because of the spells of the Coprosi, but they were still vulnerable to direct physical assault, despite the reinforcing iron bands.

The Night Battle

Nightfall brought no relief. As Theodosius realized what was happening, he began bringing ordinary citizens to the walls so that his soldiers could get food and rest. He was careful not to place amateurs in too great of numbers in any one location, always keeping a solid leaven of soldiers to support and direct them. Despite their overwhelming numbers, the Goblins too must have needed rest, for witnesses could see campfires start up and see figures lying on the ground. In the early morning hours, attacks became sporadic, and many Humans found some way to catch a bit of sleep.

Everyone was now engaged directly in defense of the City. Women cooked and brought food up to the walls, suffering casualties along with the men. Children gathered spears that had fallen to the streets below. Old men fished, to provide food. Those who could walk but were too hurt to fight went into the cisterns to bring up water for the troops, or down to the docks to gather seawater in buckets to fight fires. Old women tended to the wounded until healing Mancers could come by to help. And, everywhere, people stood ready to fight the fires that sprang up anywhere the green fire touched down. Fortunately, the Goblinmages were rarely able to approach the walls closely enough for this to happen.

The 16th of August brought a new assault, even more ferocious than the last. On this day, unlike almost any other day in history, the Goblins fought as a single army. This was a testament to their king, Kniva, who was responsible for the assembly of the horde and for keeping it together for several years.

At dawn, a silence fell over the battlefield that lasted for almost two hours. The Humans rested, ate, tried to sleep. It took no brilliant deduction to know a general assault was coming, and Theodosius hardly had to issue the order for all available troops to man the walls.

Second Assault

Around 9am, under heavy clouds, the Goblin assault was launched. Goblins don't shout or chant when going into battle, but the pure noise of their running and of their arms and armor, made a low-rushing roar as of a great wave running into shore.

And, like a wave, their attack was blindly brutal. It smashed against the walls from the Horn to the Sea, not concentrated at any point. It did not need to be concentrated, for they were forty and fifty deep at every point. The Humans fought with the ferocity of despair. "It cannot be said we fought courageously, for every one of us was afraid. We fought desperately, with no thought of retreat, as ones who know that Death stands but one step behind." so. ²⁷

As on the day before, the Goblins crashed into the walls and tried to climb them, exactly as a wave tries to climb a cliff. Mancers poured down fire and wind and ice. Soldiers hurled stones and spears while archers and slingers tried to single out the Goblinmages.

For even the Goblinmages were attacking. They came right in amonst the Goblin warriors, unleashing the green fire indiscriminately against walls, towers and gates, but burning also their own people. The shrieks of Humans and monsters being burned alive mingled with the clatter of weapons, the hiss of arrows, the shout of orders, the crash of axe and hammer. "We had descended into the well of Hades. We breathed the air of Ruin and Death." ²⁸

The assault was continuous. The Goblins did not retreat and did not rest. Their entire force was engaged, for once the battle had begun, no further forces joined it. One soldier wrote of fighting until he literally could not lift his arm but stood helplessly as a Goblin struck him down, and was saved only when someone appeared out of nowhere to rescue him.²⁹

The next few hours were desperate ones, but the Roman people showed their mettle. As soon as a soldier fell, a citizen took up his sword. The citizens were not trained, but the fight on the parapets was simple enough. There were no tactics, no strategy. It was fight whatever came up the walls at you.

Tactics came only in the employment of magic, and much of this was evidently made up on the spot. For example, one Vesalius, an Italian member of the Coprosi, had learned how to cast a spell against the effects of fire. He was ordered by Theodosius to protect the Hellas Gate. Having cast such spells as he could there, he on his own cast spells on the wooden parapets supporting the soldiers. And then he cast spells on their arms and armor. Results were not always reliable, but it took only a few soldiers to swear their lives had been saved for word to pass throughout the ranks. Vesalius was kept busy for the rest of the siege casting spells, until he collapsed with the strain.

Still the Goblins came on. They fashioned crude ladders and climbed up those, or else they scrambled up the bare walls. They died by the hundreds and by the thousands until the pile of bodies below was taller than a horse. They died in such numbers that the Goblins themselves dragged the bodies of their dead away from the gates because the corpses were piled so high and deep that the Goblinmages could not direct fire against them.

By midday, Humans still held the walls. In the early afternoon, the Dacian Gate burst into flames, killing two Visigoth Mancers who were holding it. But the citizens had filled the entire gateway with stones and mud from the shorelines, so there was no opening to exploit. Indeed, the mud proved even more impervious than did the walls.

It was symbolic. At one point near the Horn, Goblins actually seized a section of the parapets. But a Pyromancer and two Coprosi brought the entire section crashing down, killing defenders and attackers alike. Thereafter, Goblins who arrived at the top of the wall discovered they faced a thirty-foot leap into enemy hands.

The walls held. The sun went down. The City stood.

Again the night was lit by Goblinfire. The defenders were too weary to celebrate, and indeed, the enemy were yet so numerous it would be foolish to celebrate. Everywhere, spontaneously, the citizens insisted that the soldiers sleep, while they stood watch-and-watch.

Third Assault

The next day, the rising sun revealed the Goblins' first attempt at siege tactics. Under cover of darkness they had brought forward a great many waggons, which formed a kind of counter-fortress. Behind this stood the warlord Kniva and over twenty Goblinmages. While the assault was again along the entire length of the City's defenses, these now created a concentration of fire upon the Thracian Gate and the tower above.

The fire was so intense that Theodosius had to remove from the Tower. The Lykus evaporated in steam. No archer could endure the heat to get close enough to get off a single shot.

The makeshift defense of the Thracian Gate held well enough, but the walls themselves began to crack under the terrific heat. This was kept up for almost the entire day.

Elsewhere along the walls, it was a repeat of the day before. Endless assaults, desperate defenses, and every loss irreplacable. But more fighting was happening on the parapets themselves. Fewer legionaries could be seen in battle. Worst of all, there were beginning to be places were there were no Mancers at all to help with the fight.

It was late afternoon of the 17th. The mood everywhere was grim. Everywhere you could see it in people's eyes: they were thinking of how they might sell their life most dearly. Mothers looked at their children, facing an awful choice.

The Arabian

Then, out of nowhere, a single warrior emerged. His name is unrecorded, but two sources state that he was an Arabian. He charged out of a postern gate on the northern wall and began jogging southward.

He was almost certainly a Coprosi, though there's no record of him. All we know is that he had an ability of extraordinary speed. As Goblins spotted him and attacked him, he blurred and a moment latter his attackers lay on the ground, beheaded. He was completely unarmored, wearing only loose-fitting white clothing, his long black hair braided with red ribbons.

It soon became clear that he was heading for the waggons and the concentration of Goblinmages there. Ingilene spotted him and at once directed her aeromance powers to aid and protect him. She knocked away javelins.

The Goblinmages never saw him coming, in part because they were so occupied with toppling the Red Tower, which was now almost completely destroyed, and in part because the Arabian moved so quickly.

Then he was among them, and they dared not attack for fear of killing each other. But he did not attack them. He had but one goal: to kill Kniva. This he did, severing his head before the Goblin warlord could even raise a spear in defense. He then leaped out of the waggon fortification (most likely aided by a spell from Ingilene) and raced among the enemy forces, displaying the head of their fallen leader.

He went along the full length of the wall, at least as far as the Hellas Gate. Was he killed there? Did he escape somehow? Was he magically lifted back inside the walls? Sources that have him racing across the waters of the Sea of Marmara are all much later and cannot be regarded as reliable, but sources closest to the event merely record that he vanished "out of eyesight," leaving the fate of the mysterious warrior unclear.

This is such an extraordinary tale that it would be dismissed out of hand were it not for the fact that every eyewitness source we have speaks of this. However mysterious it might be, it happened. The Arabian charged out from the walls, slew the Goblin warlord Kniva, then vanished into the westering sun and was never seen again.

Notwithstanding later romances, the Goblin assault did not at once halt. Rather, it broke apart little by little as the sun went down. That night, no Goblinfire turned the sky a ghostly green.

And, in the morning, the Goblins were leaving. Not all at once. Indeed, there were some more attacks on that day, the 18th of August. But as they had arrived, band by band, so the Goblins left, band by band. With Kniva dead, their natural tendency to chaos reasserted itself. With Kniva dead, Goblin war chiefs began to think of other targets, easier targets. They began to consider that all the food in the region was gone, and so was most of the wood. All the horses had been eaten. The great city might promise great wealth, but a modest wealth was to be preferred to a certain death.

The Goblin Horde broke apart. The great wave had shattered against the walls of Constantinople and now ran in countless savage rivulets through the mountains of Hellas.

The City stood.