165 - Reviving the Roman Name

Hello, and welcome to the History of Rome, episode 165, Reviving the Roman Name. In early 412 AD, two forces converged on northern Italy. Coming up from the south was Atolf and the Goths, who were now more than a year removed from the sack of Rome, but still no closer to finding the permanent home or the permanent place in the Roman world that they had been searching for. Coming down from the north was Constantius III, commander-in-chief of the Western Roman army, who had just whipped two usurpers in the span of a single summer. Neither side was entirely sure what the motivations of the other were, so they gingerly skirted around each other trying to get a feel for what the other intended to do. Were the Goths going to follow up on their sack of Rome by attacking Ravenna? Was Constantius going to go for the hat-trick and press for a decisive battle?

As it turned out, the answer to both of these questions was a resounding no. Atolf was obviously interested in all the things Alaric had been interested in, a homeland for the Goths, a regular stipend for his people, and a place in the Roman military order for himself personally, but he was not particularly interested in using brute force to get there, at least not at the moment. Constantius for his part opened with a hard line, ordering the Goths to leave Italy immediately, but he was clearly not sitting on a hair-trigger. A battle with the Goths, even a victorious battle, risked the precious military resources of the faltering Western empire. The other side wanted a battle, and so it was to everyone's great relief that the Goths decided to leave Italy without a fight, and Constantius decided to let them go without a fight.

The man who did the most to convince Atolf to leave Italy was, surprisingly, the deposed puppet emperor Priscus Atolus. Just because he had not worked out as an emperor did not mean that the Goths did not still value his counsel, and he had stayed on with Alaric as an advisor after the sack of Rome, and now served Atolf in the same capacity. Atolus pointed out to the Gothic king that southern Gaul was now not only pacified, but in the process of remaking itself politically and economically after five years of chaos. It would be the perfect time for the Goths to head over the Alps and stake some kind of claim for themselves. Atolf was intrigued by the possibility of becoming a power broker in a newly reorganized Gaul, and so he ordered his people over the mountains.

The departure of the Goths was a mixed blessing for Honorius and Constantius. Naturally, Ravenna was happy to see them out of Italy, but it's not like Gaul was a really super place for them to be setting up shop. Jovinus' revolt in upper Germany was still in full swing, and if the Goths decided to join forces with the usurper, then their combined strength might overwhelm the imperial defenses. Worried about this possibility, and about the future safety of the imperial hostage Gallia Placidia, Honorius authorized a payment of gold to greet the Goths when they emerged on the far side of the Alps. Hopefully, the gold would be enough to keep the Goths at least neutral in the coming showdown with Jovinus, and keep Placidia safe until arrangements for her release could be made.

But the perfunctory down payment was not enough to keep Atolf from exploring his options, and as soon as the Gothic horde entered Gaul, they opened up negotiations with Jovinus, offering their strength in exchange for all the concessions Honorius had been refusing to grant. An agreement in principle between the two sides was reached, but then Jovinus made a critical blunder. Well, actually, who knows if it was Jovinus' blunder. Though he was formerly the emperor, like Priscus Atolus in Rome, or Maximus in Spain before him, he was really just a puppet of the local military. In this case, the main powers behind the throne were the Burgundian king Gundahar and the Alon king Goar. So it was much more their blunder than Jovinus', but it is less complicated to just group them all together under Jovinus' name, since he was the legal authority under which they had chosen to operate.

Anyway, their collective blunder stemmed from an imperial soap opera that had played out down in Ravenna, where ever since the rise of Constantius, the Goth general Saurus had fallen from favor. This falling out was mutual, however, as Saurus was still nursing a grudge against Honorius for not properly punishing the men who had betrayed and executed Stilicho, the man who had brought Saurus over to the Roman side in the first place. Saurus was also annoyed that one of his retainers had been recently murdered, and no one seemed interested in investigating the matter properly. With the Goth incessantly complaining about the emperor's inaction, and Constantius proving himself to be an eminently capable military commander, Saurus was pushed out of the inner circle in 412. In a huff, the Goth general sent a note up to Jovinus, offering the usurper his services, and he began to march north with a group of twenty-eight still loyal retainers.

If you recall that the families of Atolf and Saurus were blood enemies, then you can probably guess what Jovinus' blunder is going to be. The puppet emperor accepted Saurus' offer of service, which immediately alienated Atolf and opened up a rift between the usurpers on the Rhine and the Goths in southern Gaul. Right at the moment when they were about to bind themselves to one another, Saurus walked into the picture like a polarized magnet and pushed everyone away from everyone else. Not that Saurus ever actually joined up with Jovinus, mind you, Atolf wasn't going to let that happen in a million years. On their way north, Saurus and his party were met by a force of Goths that Olympiodorus reports as being at least ten thousand strong, which may have been a bit of an overkill, but hey, blood enemies deserve the red carpet treatment. Saurus apparently staged a brave last stand, but you know, the outcome is never really in doubt when it's twenty-eight against ten thousand.

With Saurus out of the picture, relations between Jovinus and Atolf should have improved, but the bad blood that had been generated continued to poison their relations. Shortly after Saurus' death, the barbarian kings backing Jovinus decided to elevate their puppet's brother Sebastianus to serve as co-emperor. This unilateral move to expand the imperial college without even discussing it with him offended Atolf mightily. If the Goths were going to play a meaningful role in an alliance, then they were going to have to be consulted when it came time to elevate new leaders. Already in a mood to be ticked off by the actions of Jovinus' court, Atolf was ticked off by the actions of Jovinus' court.

So instead of the Goths and the Rhine armies joining forces and potentially overrunning Constantius and the imperial legions, Atolf sent a message down to Constantius, saying, hey, it turns out I don't like these guys any more than you do, so what say we join forces and whack them back into the stone age? Constantius, who was more than happy to let the Goths take the lead in attacking Jovinus, agreed that an alliance was a mighty fine idea. So either in the autumn of 412 or the spring of 413, Atolf and the Goths advanced north to confront the forces of Jovinus and Sebastianus, and by that I mean of course the forces of Gundahar and Goar. The two sides faced off at some indeterminate location in central Gaul, and the Goths carried the day, capturing Sebastianus in the process. The junior puppet was handed over to the prefect of Gaul, who immediately had him executed.

Definitely now in 413, Atolf followed up his victory by laying siege to Jovinus at Valentia in south-central Gaul. Valentia soon fell, Jovinus was captured, and like his brother, was executed by the prefect of Gaul. The heads of both brothers were then sent down to Ravenna, where they were publicly displayed, before being sent down to the north African port of Carthage, where they were publicly displayed again, to warn off anyone contemplating insurrection in the breadbasket of the Western Empire.

Atolf's quick work against Honorius' enemies re-cemented the positive working relationship between the Goths and the Romans, that had been shattered by the death of Stilicho five years earlier. Gaul certainly saw bright enough days ahead, that on January 1, 414 AD, he forged a familial alliance between the two nations, by marrying his imperial hostage, Gallia Placidia. Hinting at his long-term ambitions, Atolf wed Placidia in a traditional Roman wedding, and himself wore the uniform of a high-ranking Roman general for the occasion. Like his brother before him, Atolf was clearly angling for an official position within the Roman ranks, and as the new brother-in-law of the Western Emperor, how was he to expect anything less?

Further evidence of Atolf's intentions comes to us by way of Orosius, a contemporary, that is contemporaneous, Christian historian, who published a history of the Roman Empire in 417 or 418. In this history, he reports that upon marrying Placidia, Atolf declared that, and I'm quoting a bit here, At first I wanted to erase the Roman name, and convert all Roman territory into a Gothic Empire. I longed for Romania to become Gothia, and Atolf to be what Caesar Augustus had been. But long experience has taught me that the ungoverned wildness of the Goths will never submit to laws, and that without law, a state is not a state. Therefore I have more prudently chosen the different glory of reviving the Roman name with Gothic vigor, and I hope to be acknowledged by posterity as the initiator of a Roman restoration, since it is impossible for me to alter the character of this empire.

Now, of course, Atolf never actually said this. As was the case with ancient histories, the actual speech would have been written by Orosius. But it is entirely plausible that Atolf would have said something like this. The Roman Empire was weakening by the day, but even in its current state of decay, it was still too powerful for the Goths to simply overthrow and replace with something else. It is thus reasonable to presume that Atolf's ambitions were now firmly focused on creating a Gothic ascendancy within the framework of the empire, by way of the family he was creating with Gallia Placidia, and by way of the son she would hopefully soon bear for him. Like the Spanish nobles who took over the empire in the 2nd century, and the Illyrian generals who took it over in the 3rd century, with a little luck, the 5th century would belong to the Goths, who would give the empire just the shot in the arm it needed.

The tantalizing prospect of Romanized Goths stepping in and forging a new dynasty that would rule the Western Empire and return it to its proper place of power and glory was brought remarkably close to fruition 9 months later, when Gallia Placidia gave birth to a healthy baby boy. When you look around the imperial family circa 414, you can see just how close that boy came to inheriting the empire. Honorius himself had no children, and showed no interest in ever fathering any children. His late brother Arcadius had died after fathering four children, the boy Theodosius II, who was currently reigning in Constantinople, and three daughters, the rising power that was Aelia Pulcheria, and her two younger sisters, Arcadia and Marina, all three of whom appear to have taken a vow of virginity after their brother was made Augustus, so not much chance of any new heirs coming any time soon from that side of the family. Arcadius and Honorius had the one living sister, Gallia Placidia, who had thus far given birth to no children, until now. So if Honorius were to die any time soon, that meant that the only living male in the imperial family who was not already an emperor was the newborn son of Atolf and Placidia, named Theodosius after his grandfather.

But just as the empire seemed poised to give itself over to the Goths, the course of history suddenly shifted again. Constantius III knew darn well what the implications would be if Atolf and the Goths wormed their way into the imperial power structure. He'd be fired from his job, and most likely executed. So he convinced Honorius to sanction an offensive against the Goths, who, he assured the emperor, were up to all manner of nefarious double dealings and sinister agenda-pushings. The emperor was already unhappy that the barbarian king had made a wife of his sister, and so he approved Constantius' plan to break Atolf and the Goths, despite the good work they had just done on his behalf.

Constantius got to work at once blockading the ports of Gaul, with the aim of starving the Goths into submission. Shocked by this betrayal, and it was a betrayal, Atolf renounced his alliance with Honorius, and elevated yet another puppet emperor to swear his allegiance to. And since, hey, why not, he's here and still technically a Roman senator, Atolf decided to re-elevate Priscus Atollus to the rank of Augustus. But the second reign of Priscus Atollus went no smoother than the first, and in the end it would only last for a few months.

Constantius' blockade was effective enough, but Atolf decided the Goths could no longer survive in Gaul, and he led them west, across the Pyrenees and into Hispania. Along the way, Atollus either ran away or was purposely ditched, and he was soon picked up by imperial agents. He would be kept under house arrest until he could be paraded in an official triumph in 416, after which he was exiled to a small island off the coast of Sicily. No word on whether the local birds made him emperor for a third time.

It was after the Goths arrived in Barcelona in late 414 that Placidia gave birth to young Theodosius, but as 414 gave way to 415, fate delivered a cruel blow to the mother's love and the father's ambition. The infant Theodosius, half-Goth heir to the Western Empire, died in early 415. As quickly as hopes had been raised that the Goths would become the new masters of Rome, those hopes were dashed.

Atolf now presided over a harried and hungry tribe that was trapped between an imperial blockade and the Germanic tribes, among them the Vandals and Alans, who had already taken control of the best parts of the Spanish peninsula. But Atolf did not have to fret over the plight of his people for long. After killing Sarus in 412, Atolf had magnanimously agreed to take his blood-enemy surviving supporters into his retinue. One of them would prove to be a ticking time bomb, that finally went off in 415. While Atolf was taking a bath, this secretly revenge-minded retainer entered the chamber and murdered him.

The sudden murder of their king had two major effects on the Goths. First, it sent their political order spinning into chaos, and second, it was debilitating to general morale. When Alaric had died, Atolf was right there, ready, willing, and able to step into his brother's shoes. But when Atolf died, there was no clear-cut replacement waiting in the wings, and so a power struggle ensued. Seeing the throne open, and resting his legitimacy on better-to-ask-forgiveness than permission, a noble named Segeric bypassed the usual election process and seized the crown for himself, possibly within hours of Atolf's death.

Segeric is a doubly interesting figure, because he was the brother of Sauris, and thus came from the minority faction that had long chafed under the rule of Alaric and Atolf's families. So this was not just a power grab, it was a power grab by the long-standing enemies of the entrenched parties. Segeric's attempt to realign Gothic politics, however, quickly fell apart, and just seven days after seizing the crown, he himself was assassinated, and replaced by a cousin of Alaric and Atolf's, named Walia, or Walia. Walia, supported by the majority of the Goths in Barcelona, was able to hold on to power until his death in late 418 or early 419, a short reign that will see relations between the Romans and Goths repaired. But instead of the Goths dictating terms, as Alaric and Atolf had envisioned, Walia would be forced to accept that it would be the Romans who dictated the terms in the end.

The fact that Walia could relent to Roman pressure, accept vassal status for his people, which he is about to do, and maintain his hold on power, is proof of the second great consequence of Atolf's death, that morale within the Gothic ranks was driven to pretty dismal lows. Since the death of Stilicho, they had been on a pretty good run. They had been reinforced by the remains of Radagaisus' army, laid successful siege to Rome, and then gotten paid a pretty penny to go away, came this close to forcing Honorius to give them independence and a cash stipend, sacked Rome without breaking a sweat, defeated Jovinus and Sebastianus without breaking a sweat. But suddenly the well of good fortune had dried up. Now they were wedged into a corner of Spain, the architects of their success dead, and everyone else starving. Fortune, she is a great and terrible mistress.

So one of Walia's first acts upon becoming the new king of the Goths was to open negotiations with Constantius. The Roman general announced that he was happy to lift the blockade and hand over all the grain the Goths would ever need, on two conditions. First, the Goths must fight for Rome, rather than for themselves, and in effect become little more than a division within the Roman army. Second, they must surrender the emperor's sister, Gallia Placidia. Walia and his advisors considered these terms and decided they could live with them. After all, we're not the ones who had given up on the alliance we formed against Jovinus. That was all on you. If you want us to fight your battles for you, that's fine. We've done it before. Just, you know, don't blockade us into submission when we're done. As to Gallia Placidia, well, she was a mighty valuable chip, but sometimes you have to cash in your mighty valuable chips to get stuff you need. Like food, so that your children don't starve to death.

So in 415, Walia cashed Gallia Placidia in for food. Which means that I misspoke last week when I said it would be a full decade before she was released from Gothic custody. I'm not entirely sure why I said that. It was only about 5 years. I just misread the dates, I guess. Sorry about that.

Deal with the Goths in hand, Constantius knew exactly what he wanted to do with his new auxiliary army. He wanted them to retake the Spanish peninsula from those still-loose barbarian squatters who had set up shop there. Wrenching back control of Spain from these tribes, mostly Alon and Vandal, was not just a matter of satisfying Roman pride, or making the map look clean and pretty again. It was a matter of raw economic calculation. Their presence was disrupting the collection of taxes. Hispania had always been a well-insulated cash cow for the Western Empire. But now, suddenly, the milk had dried up. Which was a terrible development, because Spain had been just about the last steady contributor to the imperial coffers over the last few years. Italy had been ransacked by the Goths. Gaul had been overrun by barbarians and civil war, so it was not like there was a lot coming in to begin with. The loss of Spain was making the imperial position completely untenable.

On top of all that, the island of Britannia was looking more and more like it was never coming back into the Roman fold. In fact, I buzzed past this last week, but historians tend to date the permanent abandonment of Britain by the Romans to 410 AD. After expelling Constantine III's officers, and taking the defense of the island into their own hands, the local Britons found themselves outgunned by the incoming Saxon pirates. So they wrote to Honorius, requesting a new garrison to help protect them. Honorius replied that he could spare no resources, and that Britain must look out for itself. Now had things gone a little different, this might have wound up being merely a temporary retreat. But things didn't go different, and the Romans never did go back. It would be a few generations before cultural Romano-Britain gave way to its Anglo-Saxon successor, but politically and militarily, Britannia was lost to the Empire for good. Which is why it was so important to circle the wagons and make sure that the same thing didn't happen to Spain.

So next week, Constantius will direct the Goths to begin operations against the Alans and Vandals at once. The interesting thing, though, is that while the Gothic offensive will be mostly successful, it will be mostly successful against the Alans, who were, at the moment, the strongest of the barbarian tribes in Hispania. By focusing their attention, correctly, on the Alans, the Goth offensive will unfortunately prove to be somewhat less successful against the Vandals. And if you've read ahead, you know that the failure to crush the Vandals will wind up having fairly disastrous consequences for Rome. Because though Spain had long been an insulated cash cow for the Empire, the even more insulated and even bigger cash cow had always been North Africa. What's that you say? In just a few short years, something called the Vandal Kingdom is going to appear in North Africa? That can't be good. That can't be good. At all.