The Plains of Pluto - Chapter 17

Medb was happy to finally get off the train. With the exception of two short boat rides, she had been on one for the past five days, traveling up from Kalb to the coast of Gaul and then from Londinium up to Devnum.

While it was a miracle they could travel so fast, since a trip like that would have taken a month or two at best in the old days, it wasn't particularly pleasant either.

Of course, she could have taken a boat, which would have taken maybe a day less, but she had wanted to stop and talk to a few people on the continent along the way, as she tried to work out her plans once she left the capital again.

What she hadn't expected was the squad of Praetorians on the platform that snapped to attention when she and Claudius stepped off the train.

"What is this about?" she asked the Optio in charge of the squad.

She had gotten a sense the Empress was displeased with her in her message demanding her return to the capital, but she hadn't thought it was clapped in irons level displeasure.

"There have been disturbances in the city, my lady. Things have calmed somewhat, but we were ordered to ensure your safe arrival at the palace."

"Disturbances?"

"Over the new conscription laws. There were protests over them, although that has turned into anger at some of the … better off avoiding service to the empire. The worst of it has settled, but the empress wanted to make sure you didn't have any problems."

Medb frowned at that. She had been so focused on what was happening to the south, that she hadn't realized things were getting out of hand back in Britain.

Another sign she had been in Carthage too long, and had lost a handle on the empire as a whole.

"Lead on, I guess," Medb said, gesturing off the platform.

With her escort in tow, Medb made her way toward the Imperial Palace. After a few minutes of walking, it became clear the upheaval had been a little worse than the Praetorian had made it out to be. Here and there, buildings showed signs of the unrest and a few had been gutted by fire.

The empress was also clearly still doing damage control, with men on most major street corners, reading aloud from some kind of proclamation, surrounded by citizens.

It did seem to be working, as none of the crowds seemed particularly ready to riot.

The biggest sign of what seemed to be recent violence was in the wealthier districts close to the palace. The damage looked more extensive, or at least more recent, on several of the homes along that section, including a home she knew belonged to one of the Imperial senators. It must have been burned recently, as the shell of what had once been a fairly impressive home was still smoking, with brigades of men throwing water buckets on it.

"What happened there?" she asked one of her escort.

"One of the senators. The people's anger over conscription has turned to anger over some elements of the city not doing their part to support the war effort. Word spread that his son was stationed in Uliad instead of serving with his unit. A mob stormed it last night, took what they could get away with, and burned it down. The senator was not home, thankfully."

"Thankfully," Medb repeated, but she wondered how word of that got to the common people.

Senators were normally much better at hiding that kind of thing.

When they reached the palace, Medb turned to Claudius and said, "Go ahead to my offices and start deciding who you want for your investigations. I want names by the time I get back from talking to the Empress. I'm not sure when I'll be leaving, but I'd like your investigation running in the next day or two."

Claudius saluted and turned to walk toward a separate section of buildings where her offices were located while she left her escort behind and was led by a servant to the empress's private study.

She found the Empress at her desk, reading some kind of report. Although their relationship had been rocky in those early days of the empire, when Medb had been a glorified prisoner, since her … adjustment in attitude, she had found Lucilla to be a fairly reasonable monarch.

Which is why the displeased look on her face was a little concerning.

"You have some explaining to do," she said as soon as the door closed. "How did Egyptian ships manage to seize multiple ports without warning? Where were your intelligence networks?"

"I did warn you, as soon as we had a hint of their involvement. These weren't some random criminals, this was an organized attempt supported by a government that has spent the last two hundred years keeping itself alive under Carthaginian rule. They knew what they were doing. My agent died uncovering the link between the shipments in Carthage. That is how closely they guarded their secrets."

"Not good enough. Maleth. Cyprus. Our trading outposts. All lost because we didn't see this coming."

"Because we uncovered them. They were set up to react as soon as they were discovered. Had we not found the shipments, they would still be our 'allies' siphoning off whatever technology they could while secretly helping the easterners. We didn't get attacked because we missed the signs, we got attacked because we found them."

"How did they get their hands on our newer weapons? They aren't part of the alliance, and so were limited to much older weapon sales only," Lucilla asked, her tone much less accusatory than when Medb had first walked in.

"I'm not sure yet, but it is troubling. We've looked at the weapon shipment we captured, and they are pristine. No wear from transportation or battle. Most still packed with grease and protection, exactly how it comes out of our own factories."

"You're suggesting these came out of our own factories?"

"I am. Everything I've seen suggests they didn't come from leaks in our supply lines. I think they were diverted before they even reached any of the armories. Probably before they were tallied on the quartermasters rolls."

"Something worth looking at. Although, even if they were getting weapons, it doesn't explain how they managed to duplicate them so quickly."

"Something else I've been concerned about. Even the Carthaginians, with all their resources, never managed to copy any of the weapons we created. The only firearms they ever used were the cannons sold to them by the Easterners. And yet, somehow the Easterners have production versions in the field in a few months?"

"Yes. Although reports from the front indicate their accuracy remains inconsistent."

"If they get a chance to copy more of our designs, they'll improve."

"Which we need to prevent from happening. Have you identified which factory the shipments went missing from?"

"Not yet, but we will soon. I have Claudius putting together a team right now and they should start the investigation before I leave, so I can make sure they're on the right track."

"What do you mean 'leave'?"

"I'm heading to the front, specifically to the prisoner camps to start questioning prisoners and try to learn more about who we're fighting."

"Absolutely not. If we have some kind of leak in our development, that is our priority. We cannot defeat them if they keep up with us on our technology and we need your expertise to root out these traitors."

"Claudius can handle that investigation. I've spent the last year training him on intelligence and he was deeply involved in uncovering the current smuggling. He knows what to look for, who to watch, how to build a network of informants. I agree this is important, but I think our lack of information on the Easterners is our weakest point. Besides, we don't know yet, for sure, if the smuggling is directly connected to the Easterners. Yes, they got their hands on the end product, but that doesn't guarantee that the people selling the goods knew who they were selling it to. It could be simple corruption, merchants selling to whoever pays highest."

"A point, although I find it unlikely, but we've had this lack of knowledge about the Easterners ever since the last war. Why is it so urgent you go now?"

"Because for the first time, we have access to actual Eastern soldiers and officers, not just their proxies. Men who know not just about the capabilities of their army, but who can give us some kind of real sense about who the Tian-You are. The smuggling is a problem, yes, but it is not the only place we're blind."

"You believe the prisoners will reveal such information?"

"Some will. They're soldiers, not fanatics. They have families, homes, lives they want to return to. Some will talk simply to improve their conditions. Others will let things slip without realizing it. A few might even decide their loyalty to their empire isn't worth dying for."

Lucilla was quiet for a full minute as she considered Medb's proposal.

Finally, she nodded slowly. "You're right. I apologize for my earlier harshness. The Egyptian betrayal ... it has had everyone on edge. It wasn't your fault."

"I appreciate that."

"But I want regular reports, both from you and Claudius. If either investigation reveals immediate threats…"

"You'll know as soon as possible."

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow, if possible. Day after at the latest. The sooner I begin questioning prisoners, the better."

"Okay," Lucilla said.

***

Middle Sea, Southeast of Sicilia

Valdar squinted against the early summer sun, the spray stinging his face. They’d been in the middle sea for almost a week, and the hunting had been good.

It helped that the Easterners didn’t seem to have much in the way of ships in this region. The only thing they’d found were Ptolemaic ships, mostly either Britannian-built merchant designs mixed with some attempts to copy the better Britannian warships.

They were generally smaller than the Easterner ships he’d faced in the south and less sturdily constructed. This, coupled with the fact that Egyptians had never been the best sailors, made their ships easy pickings.

Thankfully, the shells now being used by the Eastern forces on land, the ones copied from the Britannian designs, had not made it to their ships yet. Every Ptolemaic ship was still using round shot. While that could be deadly, it took a whole lot more cannonballs to sink one of his ships than it did explosive shells, which meant their attempts to fight back did not last long.

They’d tried, though.

The first few days, the hunting had been good, with the Ptolemaic ships trying to take his small fleet head-on.

None of those fights had gone well for them.

After that, the hunting had gotten slimmer. They’d heard word from some fishing ships off the coast of Italia that the Egyptians were now sailing in small convoys, presumably hoping more guns would keep them safe.

They clearly hadn’t been paying attention to what happened in these same waters during the last war.

“Sir,” one of his officers said, running up and skidding to a stop, saluting. “Scouts report they’ve spotted the convoy we were told about, and the direction suggests it’s heading for Malfus.”

“Probably trying to slip in relief supplies now that we have the island under blockade. Order the scouts to chase the convoy this way but keep their distance. I don’t want the Egyptians to decide to turn and fight just yet,” Valdar said, pulling out a spyglass and examining their position.

Waving to a signalman, he ordered, “Signal the fleet to position behind that northwest promontory, with the exception of the Aquila and Seadreki. I want them further down. Positioning is at their discretion, but I want them far enough away to be out of sight, but close enough to be able to hear the guns when the fight starts and come in as a blocking force. I want the convoy to be caught between us. When we launch the attack, I want all of the schooners to fan out behind us and come around in crescent formation, spread out south of the convoy. They are not to engage directly in the fighting. Their job is to grab any ship that tries to run south. If they strike, fine, otherwise, sink them.”

The signalman saluted and ran off to deliver the orders. It took a few minutes for everything to be delivered, but his captains were good and had been in enough fleet engagements to know what he expected of them. He could see the first ships beginning to peel away to their assigned positions before the last signal was even out.

Most all moved close to the coastline, where the terrain to the east jutted out, helping to block them from view as the convoy passed. The only exception was the Aquila and Seadreki, which made sail and disappeared to the west.

Time seemed to drag on as they waited. Naval combat was slow combat, and a lack of patience had forced many a captain to make a mistake and end their sailing days early.

“Signals from the scout ships, Admiral,” called his flag lieutenant. “Enemy convoy maintaining course and we should see them soon.”

“Good,” Valdar said, pacing the quarterdeck, counting the minutes as the distance closed.

Finally, he caught them. Tiny dots at first, but quickly growing large enough to see details as the Ptolemaic ships drew closer. He’d dealt with Egyptian captains many times over the years, and he’d never been overly impressed by their ability behind the wheel.

They did not change his opinion now.

Their formation was tight. Too tight. Any kind of scattering would require coordination, with the outer layer peeling off first and the inner ships being forced to wait for them. It would make them vulnerable when the trap closed.

Their escorts were also spread out, two in front, two in back.

Good for anti-piracy work when you had singles and pairs to worry about, but they were now at war with a major power.

“Ready the gun crews.”

His officers relayed the commands to his gun crews and those of the other ships. Their captains would have been watching, but he wanted to make sure everyone was ready. While this would be an easier fight than the ones he’d had over the last year and a half, it wasn’t just the fight.

This was to be a message.

Below decks, gun crews worked quietly as the convoy drew closer.

When the lead Ptolemaic escort was less than half a mile off the coast and parallel to their position, Valdar raised his telescope one final time. He could see their crews clearly now, sailors moving on deck and soldiers stationed along the rails with rifles.

Again, the fight then thing to do if they were facing pirates.

“Signal the flanking ships,” he commanded. “Prepare to emerge.”

As their ships passed, flags snapped up the Bellona’s rigging. In the distance, answering pennants appeared briefly above the coastline.

“Helm, bring us about.” Valdar’s voice was steady. “Gun crews stand ready.”

The Bellona swung gracefully from her hiding place, her sister ships following in line. The Ptolemaic convoy spotted them immediately. Valdar could see the sudden flurry of activity aboard their decks as men began to panic and shout orders.

“Too late,” he muttered, before yelling, “Open fire!”

The Bellona’s guns roared. The range was short and they’d had a lot of time to work out firing solutions thanks to the Egyptians’ very straight path of sail. Shells arced across the water, bursting into flames and shards of metal as they struck the Ptolemaic warship’s hull. The explosions ripped through the vessel’s wooden sides as one, then two, then three hit, tearing a hole in the side of the ship.

His guns didn’t all fire at once. The cannons fired staggered, something they’d worked out after the last engagement against the Easterners. They’d found if they fired all the shots at once, they would more or less hit at the same time, with the explosions of the ones that hit an instant before the later shells came in actually setting off the later shells away from the boats.

True, the explosion would still be close enough to do damage. They found if they staggered the fire of a broadside into two groups, separating them by a second or so, the second set of shells would either also impact the ship instead of going off prematurely or, sometimes, they would get lucky and the round would go through the hole created by the first shell and explode deeper inside the target.

This didn’t seem to be as true against harder to penetrate stone targets like forts, but it was very true against wooden ships.

And they got lucky.

And it’s what happened this time. A shell punched through a hole opened in the side of the lead Egyptian ship, disappearing past the open planking before impacting and exploding. A beat later there was a thunderous blast as the ship’s powder magazine went up that sent burning timber high into the morning sky.

The shockwave rolled across the water. One of the merchant ships, sailing too close to the escort, caught fire as blazing debris rained down across its deck. Panic erupted across the convoy as ships tried to turn, only to spot the Britannian vessels emerging from both flanks.

“Second volley!” Valdar commanded. “Target the next escort!”

Again the guns thundered and again, they found their mark, hitting the second escort ship in the rear of the convoy. They weren’t so lucky as to hit the powder magazine twice in a row, but several shells did impact near the ship’s waterline, tearing splintered holes that let the seawater rush in. It didn’t take long for the crew to start scrambling over the sides, jumping into the sea.

The remaining two Ptolemaic escorts tried to put themselves between Valdar’s ships and their charges, who began to scatter, apparently trying to break west for Maleth and safety.

They were going to be very surprised when Valdar’s other warships came into view and they realized they were trapped.

“Helm, three points to starboard,” Valdar commanded. “Gun crews, prepare to fire on my mark.”

He had no use for the warships, but he wanted as many of the merchantmen as possible. The Ptolemaic warships turned and finally managed to get off a response to the earlier Britannian vollens, but their shots went wide, splashing harmlessly into the water. Black powder smoke drifted across the waves as more ineffective round shot sailed past.

“Signal the schooners, tell them to focus on cutting off escape routes. Don’t waste ammunition on crippled vessels. Any ships that break out, they are to force to strike or sink them.”

The lighter, faster schooners continued as his caravels turned to engage the warships, swinging around the small fleet to keep them moving toward the anvil in Valdar’s hammer and anvil, blocking them from fleeing south.

Some, apparently, smelled a trap and tried to turn and beat the schooners, while a few others looked as if they wanted to head for the shoreline of Sicilia, maybe to beach and run inland.

Or maybe they were just panicking. Either way, it was complete chaos with ships much too close together even if they’d coordinated the maneuver. Which they hadn’t. Three of the vessels collided, their yards becoming entangled.

The Bellona’s guns thundered again, joined by the rest of the battle line. Shells slammed into the escorts, who managed to stay afloat in spite of it. Some of the rounds went past the escort, hitting into the tangled merchant ships, tearing several apart and sending flames racing up the rigging of another.

His men reloaded and targeted one of the remaining escorts. It was trying in vain to maintain some kind of protective block for the merchants, but its positioning was poor, especially once the merchants started to scatter.

Two of his schooners were currently chasing down the ships trying to make landfall, bow guns hitting the ships in the rear. One struck its sails, pulling the cloth down and dragging to a halt.

The other tried to make it in spite of the warning shots and was quickly headed to the bottom.

Valdar noted it but kept his eyes on the warship.

“Fire as you bear!”

The Bellona’s guns roared in sequence. The first shells struck the warship’s bow, blasting holes below the waterline. The second set of shells hit amidships, destroying gun positions and sending splinters scything through the Egyptian gun crews.

Two more shells and the ship was both sinking and burning.

Which was the moment the Squila and Seadreki made their appearance, causing even more panic among the merchants. If such a thing was possible. Several of the ships began to throw cargo overboard, desperately trying to lighten their ships. Barrels and crates bobbed in the growing debris field.

One of the merchant captains showed more cunning than his fellows, turning between two of the ships currently burning down to the waterline, using the smoke from burning comrades as cover.

Valdar smiled grimly at the attempt. Valdar had to applaud the attempt.

“Clever, but not clever enough. Signal Seadreki, I want bracketing fire through that smoke screen. Drive them out.”

Their two ships began to fire shells blindly into the smoke. The resulting flashes of explosions told them that something had hit. The ship came drifting out of the smoke a moment later, clearly out of control with its main mass hanging down loose, hit by a lucky, or unlikely from their point of view. 

Seeing one of the merchant ships who struck their sails being left alone, for the moment, several more dropped their sails sending the cloth crashing to the deck and immobilizing themselves. A few even sent up white flags to make their surrender very clear.

“Signal one of the schooners to take possession of that surrender,” Valdar ordered, then turned to his first officer. “Target the vessel to their starboard. They seem less inclined to wisdom.”

Orders were passed and his guns roared again. Three shells punched through the merchant’s wooden hull just above the waterline. Secondary explosions ripped through the ship’s hold as the shells detonated, flames and smoke pouring out of the holes.

The rest of his schooners were chasing down merchantmen, raking them with fire until they struck. It had become a chaotic mix of ships, however, and Valdar was starting to have difficulty keeping track of the position of all of the ships.

It was until a junior officer ran up and drew his attention off the port side. Valdar turned to find the final Ptolemaic escort, which he’d honestly thought was sunk, coming through the smoke, directly at the Bellona, apparently planning on ramming them.

It was a confusing decision, as most of the merchants had already struck and the other warships were already below the waves, while he still had a dozen ships in total on the water. Even if they were successful and took down the Bellona, did they think they would stop this attack?

Or was it worth it to spend their lives trying to take one ship with them. Not that they were going to be successful.

A flash of movement caught his attention. The final Ptolemaic escort had come about, turning directly toward the Bellona. Puffs of smoke erupted from its deck as riflemen tried to strike out at them in vain, although the range was long for them.

“Have half the guns loaded with canister, the rest targeting the hull with explosive shells. Fire at the gun captain’s discretion.”

It was a bit overkill. If he was going to sink them, there was no need to rake the deck with shot, but he wanted to message sent loud and clear to those who survived the battle what happened when they stood against Britannian.

His guns fired again, this time in full broadside. The combined effect of grape shot and explosive shells was devastating at such close range. The grape shot scythed through the Egyptian soldiers on deck while shells tore massive holes in the ship’s hull. The escort’s charge faltered as its bow began to settle into the water.

That took the fight out of the rest of the ships, the last ships striking their sails and running up white flags. The battle was over. The waters around them were littered with floating debris and burning wreckage. Only half the merchant ships had survived.

“Signal all ships,” Valdar commanded. “Begin rescue operations for survivors. I want prisoners segregated by ship and rank. Officers are to be brought to the Bellona and have the lowest ranked officer brought to me. Also, have damage control parties inspect each captured vessel. I want to know which can be salvaged and which need to be scuttled. And get teams searching those holds, I want a full accounting of their cargo.”

“Aye sir,” his first officer replied, already moving to relay the orders.

Valdar watched as boats were lowered to begin collecting prisoners from the water. The morning’s work had been productive. They’d eliminated another Ptolemaic escort squadron and captured several merchants with their cargo intact. More importantly, they’d demonstrated that the Middle Sea remained Britannia’s domain, regardless of Egypt’s betrayal.

Valdar checked over his own ship’s damage, which was minimal, with only one round shot striking his hull. It cracked some wood planking higher up that would need to be fixed, but other than that, they were untouched.

One of the schooners had a little damage, but it also was fairly minor and could be fixed in a few hours without the need of a drydock.

By the time he finished the survey of the damage to his ships, two of his soldiers escorted an older-looking Ptolemaic officer onto the quarterdeck. He looked like the old sea dogs that could be found on most ships at sea. A man with decades of experience but without the connections to rise above the gun decks.

The man’s uniform was soaked and he’d clearly spent some time in the sea before he’d been fished out. Blood trickled from a cut above his eye that had yet to be patched.

“Your name?” Valdar asked in rusty Greek.

“Kemeni.”

“What was your position?”

“Commanded the gun deck on the Nebet.”

“By right of combat and the laws of war, your ships are now property of the Britannian Empire. While your fellow officers will be questioned, then transported to prisoner camps, you are the lucky man that gets to avoid that fate.”

“I know nothing to tell you, and wouldn’t if I could.”

“You misunderstand. I don’t want information from you. I want you to lead all of the non-enlisted, who will be put ashore on the African coast. No weapons and no cargo, just the clothes on your back and a little provisions. If you are lucky enough to make it back to Alexandria, I have a message for you to deliver.”

“What message?”

“I want your leaders, and anyone else you see, to know that every captain we see under an Egyptian flag will suffer this same fate. I will not allow a single Egyptian ship to remain afloat in the middle sea. Tell your leaders this is what they wrought by choosing to throw their lot in with the Eastern hordes. Tell them that choice has consequences. Take him away.”

The next hour passed in organized chaos as prisoners were processed and distributed among the Britannian vessels, with those being taken to a prison camp to be hauled back to Kalb on one of the Caravels while two of the schooners were dispatched to drop off the rest in Africa as promised. Valdar supervised from the quarterdeck, dispatching orders as needed. When a midshipman reported the preliminary inspection of the captured merchants complete, he nodded.

“Very well. Begin scuttling the damaged vessels. I want nothing left that could be salvaged.”

The midshipman hesitated. “Sir, two of the merchants still have substantial cargo in their holds.”

“Can they be safely sailed to port?”

“No, sir. The hull damage is too severe.”

“Then sink them. Better their cargo feeds the fish than supplies our enemies.”

Valdar watched as demolition crews went to work on the crippled ships. They worked methodically, setting charges below the waterline where they would do the most damage. One by one, the vessels disappeared beneath the waves in a cascade of bubbles and debris.

Rashid observed the destruction, his expression unreadable. “You sink good ships like they’re worthless.”

“Ships are tools, nothing more. These tools were used against us. Now they’ll rust on the seafloor where they can do no further harm.”

The last merchant ship slipped beneath the surface with a final gurgle. Valdar turned to the Egyptian.

“Remember this day, gun commander. Remember what happens when you challenge Britannian control of these waters. Your Eastern allies may have matched our weapons on land, but the sea remains our domain.”

“For now, perhaps.” Rashid’s voice carried a note of warning. “But the world changes. The old powers fade. New ones rise.”

“Then let them rise on land. The waves belong to Britannia, as they always have.” Valdar signaled to the marines. “Take him below. See that he and his gun crews are ready for transfer when we make landfall.”

As the Egyptian was led away, Valdar’s first officer approached. “Sir, preliminary count shows three hundred twelve prisoners. Forty-eight officers, including ship captains.”

“Separate the officers by vessel. I want to know exactly who commanded what. And check their papers against our intelligence reports. Some of these men may have been involved in earlier raids on our shipping.”

“Aye, sir. What about the civilian merchants we found aboard?”

“Keep them isolated from the military prisoners. Once we verify they’re truly civilians, we’ll decide their fate.” Valdar frowned. “Though any merchant willingly carrying military cargo to our enemies forfeits the protections of civilian status.”

The officer nodded and moved off to implement the orders. Valdar returned his attention to the debris-strewn waters. The morning’s work had been productive, but it was only the beginning. Egypt’s betrayal had opened a new front in an already complex war. Their ships would need to be hunted down and destroyed, their ports blockaded, their trade strangled.

It would be a long campaign, but necessary. The Eastern Empire had to learn that challenging Britannia at sea carried a steep price. Every ship they lost, every cargo seized, every crew captured would reinforce that lesson.

Valdar allowed himself a grim smile. They had chosen this path. Now they would walk it to its bitter end.

“Signal the fleet,” he ordered. “Make for the African coast. I want these prisoners offloaded before nightfall.”

The signalman raised his flags, and the Britannian vessels began forming up for the journey south. Behind them, the last traces of the morning’s battle disappeared beneath the waves, leaving only scattered debris to mark where a Ptolemaic convoy had sailed its final voyage.