After Julian's death, a new emperor ascended the throne of the Byzantine (Eastern Roman) Empire—Valens.
Valens was not a great strategist or philosopher. He was a simple and skeptical man. But what happened during his reign shook the foundations of the Roman Empire so deeply that it never recovered.
The story begins not in Rome or Constantinople, but thousands of miles away, in the desolate steppes of Central Asia.
From there, a storm arose that changed the geography of the entire world. These were the Huns.
Roman historians wrote horrifying stories about the Huns. They never dismounted their horses. Incisions were made on their faces from childhood to prevent beard growth and make them look terrifying. They would soften raw meat by placing it under the saddles of their horses and then eat it. They seemed more like devils than humans.
In the face of this terrifying storm of the Huns, the barbarian tribes of Europe—the Goths—were blown away like straws.
376 AD. The Danube Border
Millions of Goth refugees (women, children, old men, and soldiers) fled for their lives to the border of the Roman Empire—the Danube River. Behind them was the Huns' deadly sword, and ahead lay the mighty river and Rome's army.
Fritigern, the leader of the Goths, sent an envoy to Emperor Valens: "Let us cross the river. Give us refuge in your empire. In return, we will plow your fields and shed blood in your army."
Valens thought this was a fantastic deal. He was getting free farmers and fierce soldiers. He ordered: "Let them in."
But here Rome made the biggest and most shameful mistake in its history.
The responsibility of handling the refugees fell on two corrupt Roman commanders—Lupicinus and Maximus. They exploited the Goths' helplessness in a way that would shock humanity.
The Goths had nothing to eat. They were starving. Instead of giving them grain, Lupicinus and Maximus began selling them rotten dog meat.
And the price?
They demanded Goth children. In exchange for the meat of a dead dog, a Goth father had to hand over his living child to the Roman commanders as a slave.
The Goths gave up everything they had. Their children were taken away, their honor was robbed. Rome, which they considered their protector, turned out to be a monster even worse than the Huns.
377 AD. The spark of rebellion.
The Roman commander Lupicinus invited the Goth leaders to a banquet in Marcianople to pacify them. His real plan was to murder them by plying them with wine.
During the banquet, Roman soldiers began killing the Goth bodyguards. Hearing the commotion, the Goth leader Fritigern realized it was a trap. He drew his sword, left the banquet, and went to his men, shouting: "The time of peace is over! Now only our swords will bring us food!"
A rebellion broke out. Hungry, naked, and mad with rage, the Goths burned the entire Balkan region (present-day Bulgaria/Greece) to ashes.
378 AD. The blindness of arrogance.
When Emperor Valens received news of this catastrophe, he was fighting the Persians in the East (Syria). He immediately returned with his best army.
At the same time, Gratian, the emperor of the Western Roman Empire (and Valens' nephew), was also coming to Valens' aid with his army. Gratian sent a message: "Uncle, please wait for me. The Goths are too numerous. Together we will crush them."
But Valens' ego arose.
He thought, "If I wait for Gratian, I will have to share the credit for the victory with him. I alone will defeat these wild beggars and immortalize my name in history."
This was the decision that sealed Rome's fate.
August 9, 378 AD. The Battle of Adrianople.
The scorching heat of August. Fire was pouring from the sky.
Valens' army (approximately 40,000 soldiers) had marched 13 kilometers continuously since morning. The soldiers were tired, thirsty and wearing heavy armor.
At noon, they reached the plains of Adrianople. The Goth army was encamped in front. The Goths had built a "Wagon Fort"—that is, they had parked their ox carts in a large circle to protect their families inside and prevent a direct attack from outside.
The Goth leader, Fritigern, was very clever. He knew that his cavalry had gone foraging and were not present in the field. He needed time.
He sent false peace messengers to Valens to waste time in negotiations.
Meanwhile, the Goths set fire to the dry grass in the field.
A whirlwind of smoke and ash blew directly into the faces of the Roman soldiers. The intense August heat, thirst, and now the smoke made them miserable.
The Roman soldiers were so tired and irritated that, without the emperor's orders, some Roman cavalry angrily attacked the Goth wagon fort.
The battle began prematurely! The Romans had no formation.
Just then... the ground began to tremble.
A huge cloud of dust rose from behind the field. The Goths' heavy cavalry, which had gone foraging, had returned just in time. And they were no ordinary horsemen; they were angels of death clad in iron armor.
They attacked the Roman army from the flanks so hard that the Roman cavalry were blown away like a pack of cards.
Now the Goths surrounded the Roman infantry from all sides.
The Roman soldiers were pressed so close together that they couldn't even unsheath their swords. They were falling on top of each other. This wasn't a battle, it was a slaughterhouse. The Goths began piercing them with arrows and spears from above. The heat and dust were so intense that soldiers were being crushed under the feet of their own comrades.
Rivers of blood flowed. Two-thirds of Rome's field army was wiped out forever in a single afternoon.
The Emperor of Ashes
Dusk was falling. Amidst this horrific massacre, Emperor Valens was struck in the face by an arrow. He fell from his horse, mortally wounded.
His bodyguards picked him up and hid him in a two-story wooden farmhouse (watchtower) near the field.
The Goth soldiers, while looting, reached the farmhouse. They did not know that the ruler of the world's largest empire lay inside.
From inside, the Roman bodyguards fired arrows at the Goths.
The Goths were enraged. They did not try to break down the door. They gathered dry grass and wood, placed them around the farmhouse, and set it on fire.
The flames soared to the sky. Trapped inside, Valens, Emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire, was burned alive to ashes in an unmarked wooden house, on his own land.
When night fell, the plain of Adrianople was strewn with the corpses of 30,000 Roman soldiers.
The historian Ammianus Marcellinus wrote: "Never since the Battle of Cannae had Rome seen such a greater massacre and humiliation."
This battle had proven one thing—Rome was no longer invincible. The Goths had discovered that they could stand on Rome's chest.
With the ashes of Valens, the end of that old world began. Now the Byzantine Empire needed a messiah to unite this broken empire, or the Goths would swallow Constantinople as well.
And that messiah arrived. He was a Spanish general, a master of both diplomacy and the sword. He completely transformed Rome's state religion and ended the ancient Olympic Games forever.
Read more : - The Divine Flower
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