Chapter IX: A Winter of Discontent
Caesar and Octavius have a Pleasant Chat
For hours now, Gaius Julius Caesar, dictator for life, father of the fatherland, and micromanager supreme, had been hunched over in his chair, feverishly pouring over his letters, as he responded to each and every one. Now normally, he would’ve delegated this work to one of his slaves, as inscribing ink into papyrus was grueling work, normally not fit for a man of his stature(1). But with the siege of Sarmizegetusa stretching on for an eternity, with his supply chains strained and its surrounding fortresses refusing to break, he felt the need to involve himself with every single part of the process, delegating to his subordinates with a gusto unmatched. After finishing yet another letter to Publius Vatinius, a stern Spartan hated by almost everyone in his ranks, he’d drop his bronze-embroidered dip pen and knock over his ink well, cursing to Hercules as his hand burned like the fires of Mount Vesuvius. His head now pounded like the walls of Deva(2), besieged on all fronts, as he felt another one of his migraines coming on, so he decided to take a break. In his cubicle, he’d sip on diluted
garum as he ate a dish of wild figs and pheasant, happy that he had regained some of his weight after the nightmare at Pelendava: not that this siege bode any better. In many ways, it was worse. Unlike the wooden mottes scattered across the cis-Danube, Sarmizegetusa was both well-supplied and ridiculously well-fortified, meaning it could theoretically hold out for months, or even years if the gods demanded it. Rather than dwell on this however, Caesar would order one of his slaves, a foul-mouthed bondsman from Gaul, to bring in his nephew Octavius; he had other affairs to attend to.
After a long conversation with his friend, Quintus Salvius Rufus(3), where he compared Aggripa’s cooking to the excrement of a bear, Octavius would be called to Caesar’s quarters. A lanky beanpole of a man, whose health had deteriorated due to the Alpine air, he’d enter into his tent wheezing, shuffling in like a corpse. Not wanting to be seen as weak, he’d desperately try to regain his composure, red-faced at what his great uncle might think. The old general would simply smile and laugh it off however, wryly congratulating him for winning his little “battle.” The two men would talk well into the night, sipping on white wine, as they enjoyed each other's company. And after rattling off their favorite
thermopilia(4) and lengthily dissecting one of Xenophon’s stratagems, where Caesar did most of the talking, eventually the topic would come to politics. See, young Octavius had been growing restless, as the life of a military man wasn’t for him. He excelled at the administrative side of things, sure, but when it came to anything involving actual planning or warfare, he had been mostly relying on Agrippa for help; even his heroism at Genucla has been something of a farce, as his friend let him take most the credit. Caesar fully knew this of course, as he was no idiot. And sure, the boy was no Marius, but he more than made up for that by virtue of his intellect and wit. He had natural-born political instincts and near boundless gumption, and he was thoroughly impressed with how he ran his camp and wooed his own generals, so he’d finally decide to throw him a bone. Pulling out a reed
calamus and a new roll of papyrus, he’d lay out his career path for the years to come.
First, he was to complete his term of service as
tribunus laticlavius in the foothills of Armenia, being allowed to return to Rome in 42 BC after fighting the Parthians. Once he got back, he was to then enter into the tutelage of Gaius Trebatius Testa(5), his legal counsel and old friend, where he was to receive an education in debate, rhetoric, and law. Finally, once he reached the age of 25, though that number wasn’t set in stone, he was to receive the Urban Quaestorship: one of the most powerful positions in all of Rome. Octavius was immediately taken aback, not necessarily by excitement, but by his concern over the optics, as he feared that he’d be laughed out of the senate for becoming quaestor before the age of 30. He’d immediately challenge Caesar on the point, preparing for a fiery debate, but the dictator would tell him to simply relax, as he already had things taken care of. He had an omnibus bill in the works that would fix everything, and even that wouldn’t matter much in the end in lieu of what was coming; he had
a very special surprise awaiting the boy in Antioch. Octavius immediately got what he meant, as though he had been suspecting it for months now, he now had confirmation it was actually happening. With a sly grin, he’d shake his uncle’s hand, thanking him for everything before promptly departing. And Caesar couldn’t help but smile, as though the boy could never replace his sweet Julia, it felt good to be a father again. His brief moment of happiness would be interrupted however when he got back to the campaign at hand. These Dacians were sure giving him a run for his money, as they were proving themselves more resilient than the Gauls.
Part of The Sacred Enclosure of Sarmizegetusa Regia
And rightfully so, as Sarmizegetusa was a sight to behold. Composed of 10 terraces encircling the
Gradivus Mons(6), with a population numbering in the tens of thousands, it was one of the most impressive urban centers north of the Danube. It had all the hallmarks of civilization, whether its markets and workshops, where the
comati congregated on the lower levels, its grand palace, chiseled by the finest Greek masons picked by Burebista himself, or its sacred enclosure, crowned by a temple made of andesite, with a stoa nearly 80 columns long and a silver sundial to cap it all off (7). Now Caesar was, of course, quite shocked, as he never would’ve expected such a barbaric race to have built such a marvel. In a chapter of his
Dacian Wars, he’d even go as far as to compare them to his fellow Romans, noting their use of Greek architecture, imitation Denarii, and advanced drainage systems and aqueducts(8). His admiration could only extend so far however, as though these people pretended to be civilized, at the end of the day, they'd always be barbarians who had to be destroyed. And their robust defenses certainly weren't going to make that easy. For surrounding the mountain was a chain of 5 forts(9) that had to be taken before the city proper could be encircled, and they were made of far tougher stuff than anything he had witnessed at Tapae. They were built through a method known as the
Murus Dacicus, the Dacian Wall, where they were triple-reinforced through volcanic ash and masonry, back loaded with rubble, making them near-impervious to battering rams or siege artillery. And unlike the emaciated forts of Scythia Minor, they were well nourished by Transylvania's bounty, and with Burebista’s army to man them, they could hold out for almost an eternity. Now, dreading the idea of having to stay the winter, Caesar would attempt to take the forts with shock and awe, bombarding them with hellfire until they surrendered.
This would fail however, as the enemy refused to budge, and their numbers would only be bolstered by more supplies and reinforcements. By the time late October rolled around, only Deva had fallen, granting him access to the Marisus River valley. He attempted to march south, razing many towns and even the royal fort of Singidava(10) in the process, but when he attempted to move onto Sarmizegetusa proper, he was stopped dead in his tracks. He was faced with a corridor of 3 forts set atop cliffs and endless chasms that awed the very gods themselves. Burebista had set them up in the event of an invasion, building upon pre-existing infrastructure from the days of the Celts, and though he may have passed, he now had the last laugh (11). As hard as he tried, Caesar couldn’t pass through, and though he now had provisions from Singidava’s sack, it would only be so long that they’d last. And matters weren’t helped by grim news from the front. There weren’t enough troops to encircle Sarmizegetusa from the south, exposing one of their flanks. Winter was also setting in unusually early, as Caesar felt Boreas brush up against his bald spot. He knew that if he stayed any longer, his situation would be compromised and his men would be goners. So swallowing his pride and planet-sized ego, he’d make the tough decision to abandon the siege and settle in for the winter. Working day and night, erecting camps faster than Mercury’s sandals, the Romans would quickly withdraw, entrenching themselves from Tapae to Albocensia and all across Getia and Thrace. They’d settle down in their tents, making ready for the winter ahead, but nothing could’ve prepared them for the hardships that’d follow.
The Romans Celebrate Saturnalia
Around the Ides of December, hunkered down in the snow-topped stronghold of Berzobia(12), Caesar would take center stage around a campfire, riding in atop a goat. Wearing a gaudy, multicolored coat and a Phyrgian cap, he’d take a long gulp from his flask, announcing that
Saturnalia had begun. What followed would be an orgy of bedlam, the likes of which the world has never seen as, tired from their traumatic campaign, his men let it all out in one night. From dusk to dawn they’d binge drink whatever they could get their hands on, whether it wine, ale, or rain water, as any semblance of order broke down. The laws of society no longer applied, as peasants now paraded around like patricians and senators acted like slaves. And hiding behind costumes and wild masks, many a drunkard would use the opportunity to voice their real thoughts. Caesar’s own servants would even curse him out to his face, forming a line to his “throne” where he was inebriated: too drunk to know what was going on. And as hundreds huddled around in his tent, each with something to say, senators gambled away their fortunes over exotic nuts, all the while a centurion frolicked about naked in the snow, only to come back having lost his cock to the frost. Finally, the Romans were getting the rest and relaxation they needed, even if they did err a bit extreme. And for a brief week, they were able to ignore their the problems: all the men that had been lost to the cold and disease. And unbeknownst to them, the Dacians were doing the exact same.
In the early part of January, dressed to the nines like a billy goat, Deceneus would gallop throughout the Sarmizegetusa streets in order to inaugurate the annual
Aizlia(13) It was a festival dedicated to the god
Sabazios, the almighty king of the goats(14), to bring about the new year. And Dacians of every stripe, whether they be cap-wearer or
comati, would all come together as his servants, dressing themselves like beasts with ornate dyes and wools to banish evil spirits from the world. They’d all assemble in the sacred enclosure, and after consuming heavy psychoactive substances, nectar, and mead, they’d enter into a frenzied trance, clopping around like creatures of the land in an intense, hours-long dance. They’d then cool down afterwards in a large, banquet-style feast, gorging themselves on fermented boar, pork, and pig meat leftover from the prior month: all the while, they got even more drunk(15). While all of this was going on, Deceneus would retire to his chambers in order to strategize with his generals. Their current situation was, as it stands, grim, as they were effectively hemmed in. The Romans had reinforcements on the way, and once the winter turned to spring, it would only be a matter of time before his kingdom collapsed. So, once he sobered himself up, Deceneus proposed a bold strategy that he hoped would save his nation: a surprise attack. Now normally this type of thing would’ve been considered suicide, as marching an army during the winter was a oneway ticket to death. The old priest was desperate however, and he figured that, if he could lure the Romans out of his heartland with an attack on their lower flank, he would have time to recapture Albocensia and Tapae, putting him in a stronger position for next year(16). Besides, after a strangely brutal December, January had so far been pretty mild, and after making some calculations about the sun’s trajectory, he didn’t see any reason that would change. So after receiving Gulista’s very reluctant consent, he’d send out missives to his eastern federates to plan the attack for next month. After changing his attire, he’d retreat to a nearby cave and first sing Zalmoxis a hymn, wishing for this “cycle” to end. He then prayed for Burebista, hoping he would be reincarnated into a higher plane: his death repaid with Roman blood to restore balance to the cosmos. Finally, he thought back to the comet in all its unending rage. Perhaps the peoples of these lands were destined to endure this hardship due to their decadence, and now under his reign, the rot would be undone. But alas for Deceneus however, the corruption ran deeper than he thought, festering in the skies and earth, as it would now make its fury known.
The Romans Bear Through the Hellish Winter
In early February, a large army would assemble in Petrodava, consisting of some of Burebista’s most elite veterans, Bastarnae from the Atmoni clan, and brigands from the Senses confederation(17). Numbering at around 20,000 men, they’d assemble whatever supplies they could get before marching south to attack Argedava. By capturing the Getic metropolis, they hoped to create a wedge jutting into the Ordessus River valley, and from there, they could draw the Romans out from their positions before retreating back up north. They’d set out soon after, hoping that the mild weather would hold, but suddenly and almost without warning, everything changed in an instant. Like an apparition from the gods, the skies would be covered in luminescent smog, as an azure halo enveloped the sun. Temperatures dropped to levels these men had never before seen, all the while swarming blizzards cursed the land (18). Most of them would drop dead from frostbite, and the survivors would either contract hypothermia or starve. By the time they reached Argedava, they were reduced to a shambling funeral pyre, down to just 3,000, who were immediately captured by the Romans and put out of their misery. When Deceneus heard the news, he couldn’t help but scream and bash his head up against a wall, realizing the true extent of what he had done. For once the snow had melted, Sarmatians raiders would ravage the east, plundering its villages and davas, as refugees fled into the
Albius Mons(19).
Caesar was, of course, quite pleased, as it was a major win for him. Sure, the weather had taken a toll on his men as well, as in braving hellish snow, many of them either choked up blood or froze. But that paled in comparison to the Dacian tragedy, as their soft underbelly was now exposed, and with invaders attacking them from every side, it’d only be a matter of time before Sarmizegetusa fell. By the time late March rolled around, Caesar maneuvered his way down to Sucidava, stopping in Thrace to help his newly formed allies, the
Picensi and
Tricornenses (20), before heading back at Thessalonica. There, he’d clasp hands with Mark Antony, giving him a burly bear hug. He’d also be reunited with Cleopatra and their little son, Casaerion, who he’d gift a toy soldier and a collection of oddities from Dacia. The pair were planning on staying in Macedonia, where they’d take a grand tour of Greece, before sailing with him to Antioch, where they’d then return to Egypt. And Caesar was happy to see them again, even if for a brief moment, and he was absolutely ecstatic to finally meet up with his long-awaited reinforcements. The following morning, they'd hold a
suovetaurilia, a pig-sheep-bull sacrifice, near the city's
agora dedicated to
Mars Gradivus, with Antony officiating the rights (21). And after purifying themselves, they'd prepare to set off, as they were to march north at dawn to drag the Dacians to their graves.
(1): For context, this is before paper was disseminated throughout the Western world. Writing in ancient times was brutal.
(2): Deva, Romania: an important fortress along the Mureş River where Trajan fought against Decebalus in OTL.
(3): One of his closest friends during the civil war who, in OTL, would die young in 42 BC.
(4): The Roman equivalent to a restaurant/food court.
(5): A renowned jurist and close friend of Caesar who fought with him in Gaul, serving as his lawyer when he returned to Rome. Originally, I was thinking Cicero as his mentor, but considering how rocky his relationship was with Caesar, I chose someone else.
(6): The Orastie Mountains in Romania, named after Mars: the god of war. Also, by the time of Decebalus, this would be 14 terraces, but I decided to lower to number as that would be a century later.
(7): A way bigger temple would be constructed later on this site by Decebalus. It seems that the old one was destroyed to make way.
(8): So that part about the imitation denarii, drainage, and pipes seems to be pretty well backed by evidence. The part about Hellenistic architecture however seems a bit more contested by scholars, but I thought it made sense to include it considering that Burebista campaigned against the Greeks and was probably influenced by them.
(9): Would expand to 6-7 by the time Decebalus became king.
(10): Cugir, Romania.
(11): Something similar happened with Trajan in OTL. He had to secure the broader area around Sarmizegetusa before moving onto the forts surrounding the city proper. The forts in question correspond to Costeşi, Blidaru, and Piatra Roşie, Romania.
(12). A fort from a fragment of Trajan’s
Dacian Wars in modern Berzovia, Romania.
(13). A festival loosely based on the Romanian
Capra: a goat dance with seemingly pagan origins to inaugurate the new year. I made up the name of course, pulling from what seems to be the Dacian word for goat.
(14): Sabazios was a god worshipped throughout Dacia and Thrace. He seemed to be associated with rams and goats, as he was often syncretized with Dionysus.
(15): A reference to
Ignat Day: a Romanian pork-eating festival in December that also seems to have pagan roots.
(16): So for reference, this is directly pulled from OTL. During Trajan's Dacian Wars, Decebalus was in a similar position, hemmed in by Roman troops near his capital, so he'd launch a surprise attack during the winter with the battle of Adamclisi. Both here and in ITL, they go through with the plan because the weather seems mild. Decebalus’s army however survives and Deceneus’s doesn’t, and I'll explain why shortly.
(17): Piatra Neamt, Romania. The Acmoni are a subdivision of Bastarnae living north of the Danube, and I already mentioned the Senses.
(18): So the years of 43-42 BC would be some of the coldest on record. The hypothesis is that this was caused by the eruption of a super-caldera, known as Mt. Okmok, Alaska, that erupted in the earlier part of the year, hence the sudden change in climate. It would cause famines, large-scale starvation, and a whole lot of civil unrest. If you're wondering if this is going to affect the Parthian War: yes, yes it will.
(19): Fagaras Mountains, Romania.
(20): Artificial tribal autonomies created by the Romans in OTL after their conquest of the area.
(21): This was a purification ceremony that'd often be held to sanctify an army before campaign. Trajan did one in his OTL Dacian War, and it's dedicated to the soldier variant of Mars, Gradivus, due to the fact that they're on campaign. Also, Antony was appointed a a flamen for the cult of Caesar earlier that year, so I'm pretty sure he could technically do this.