The Wings of Mercury - Chapter 11

Carthage

Medb slipped through the narrow alleyways of Carthage, her cloak pulled tight against the cool spring air. The streets were quiet, partially because of the early hours and partially because of the continued pervasive unease that had settled over the city, everyone feeling how close it was to boiling over. She approached a small, abandoned house, its once-white walls now stained and crumbling, the door hanging slightly ajar, broken down by sword and club.

She was aware that being alone in this area of town, as a woman, was dangerous. She had to battle with Cormac for an hour when she told him what she was doing, that her informant had left a mark indicating he needed a meet and that she had put the response for it to be tonight. Claudius had been even worse, demanding to be allowed to go with her.

She had to put her foot down. They couldn’t both be visiting Geral every time. They needed to be able to switch off, to keep people from noticing a pattern of who he was meeting with, or putting together a pattern of the two of them leaving together to this area of town, and paying more attention.

She paused at the door, listening for any sign of life within. Silence greeted her. She pushed the door open, wincing as it creaked loudly. The house was small, a single room with a hearth at one end and a dark stain in the center of the room suggesting that whoever had lived here had met an unfortunate fate.

She didn’t question what places Claudius picked for meeting spots, trusting his judgment, but she did wonder. She stepped outside again and pulled a small piece of chalk from her pocket and drew a symbol on the wall next to the door before moving back inside. She waited. Patience was a key to her work. Sometimes doing nothing was better than doing something for the sake of doing it.

She didn’t stir out of her meditative waiting when she heard a rustling outside the door. Her hand dropped to her knife, only to relax as Geral emerged through the doorway.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “I had to wait until the meeting broke up and I was sure I wasn’t being followed.”

“It’s fine. What was this meeting about?”

“It was a gathering of low-level operatives like myself, along with our group leader, to hand out new instructions. They do it somewhat regularly.”

“And? What were these instructions?”

“Mostly to continue the small disruptions and differences against the Britannian occupiers.”

“So nothing toward their bigger plans? Their endgame?”

“If there is an endgame, they’re not sharing it with us. It’s all vague talk about ‘restoring Carthage’s greatness’ and ‘dislodging the Britannians.’ Nothing concrete. That and they’re pushing us to recruit more people, especially the youth. They’ve talked to us about targeting the poorer quarters, looking for those with little to lose and plenty of anger to spare.”

“We knew this was happening, though. This seems like things are remaining the same and you’ve gained no new information, so why the request for a meeting? You understand each time we meet, it puts you in danger and opens a chance for this to all fall apart?”

“No, there is something new to report. You asked that I keep an eye out for outside agitators being behind the movement, or at least involved with it. And I think there are.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“No. They’ve never admitted it to us, but they can’t keep people from gossiping, and there is a lot of talk of benefactors supporting us and a powerful group willing to come in and help us when the time is right.”

“If they’re not telling you about what’s happening outside your group, how would you know?”

“The gossip is pervasive, and our leaders have told us it isn’t true and that to talk about such things is tantamount to hurting the cause. For a rumor that only energizes the true believers, who think we need outside help and have been asking when someone would come to our aid, it doesn’t make sense for them to so aggressively deny it. Unless it’s true, and whoever this benefactor is doesn’t want us to know about their activity.”

“Maybe,” Medb said, although she wasn’t sure she agreed with his reasoning. “Do you think it’s the easterners? The people who helped Carthage during the war?” Medb asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“But you just said they’re not telling you anything.”

“I know, but part of the talk is because one of the groups a few of our people were lent to one of the groups on the other side of town for some kind of big operation, the one I messaged Claudius about. They said the leader of that group was much more talkative, mentioning that there were friends visiting, and that they had been observing some of the meetings of the various cells, including ours. They must have blended in well, since I don’t remember anyone standing out. New people, sure, that happens all the time, but no one notable. From the stories I heard about them near the end of the war, people who saw them delivering weapons, we would notice. They stood out.”

The big operation Geral had mentioned was an attempt to break into one of the praetorian armories and steal rifles and ammunition. They’d bribed one of the tax collectors, who’d used his position to demand a key to the armory, which he was going to give to the insurgents. Eoghan had denounced the man at once, but it was another sign of the deep corruption that ran in the governor’s administration. The praetorians and even bureaucrats assigned from home were well vetted and watched for this kind of thing, but the system he put in place, independent of checks, was clearly rotten to its core.

“Yes, that is how I understand it to be. If there is someone else, other than the easterners, in play, I need to know about it.”

“That won’t be easy to find. Other than the one leader who seems to be more willing to talk, they’re very tight-lipped.”

“I know. See if you can get moved to his group, or try and move up the ranks. Push for a leadership position. Get yourself in a position to be allowed to know more.”

“I’ll try. But it won’t be easy. They’re careful.”

“Just do what you can. Finding this out could be crucial.”

She knew pushing him to expose himself more, bring notice to himself by whoever was behind this manufactured uprising, was putting him in danger, but that’s what assets like him were there for. He said the danger was worth keeping the Carthaginians from returning.

Now it was time to prove he meant it.

***

Devnum

Lucilla made her way down the main street that led from the palace through to the Colosseum. As with every time she set foot outside, a small procession followed behind her. Guards, courtiers, aides were added to by throngs of citizens curious about what was happening and joining in until it filled the street and stretched far behind her.

While she knew her people appreciated, and even loved, spectacles, she also knew impromptu parades such as those created in her wake disrupted the city that she needed running as smoothly as possible to continue transitioning the empire back onto a war footing.

Today’s parade led her to what had once been a traditional hospital but had slowly converted into something that would have felt more in place in Factorium.

She had, under Ky’s urging, replaced every physician and natural philosopher supported by the empire with men less stuck in their ways and more willing to learn the new techniques Ky had to teach them. The men who’d served as his father’s chief physician and advisors on all matters medical had shown an inability, or at least, unwillingness to adapt to Ky’s methods and information.

She understood it, in a way. She’d always paid strict devotion to the gods and understood their teachings to be paramount, and Ky’s explanations for what causes sickness and diseases went in the face of everything the priests had ever told them. It had been a struggle for her, if she was being honest. She’d fought it in the beginning, stuck on her belief in Ky’s supernatural existence, but he, and mostly Sophus, had finally convinced her that it wasn’t that at all.

She wasn’t sure she grasped the idea of him coming from the future where magic was everyday, but he’d never given her a reason to doubt him. And it meant that, no matter what tradition and the physicians said, the old way of treating the sick and injured had to change.

And he’d been proven right. People survived illness at a rate nearly unheard of before, and children were living to become young adults more than twice as often as they once had. Ky was still appalled by the rates of death during pregnancy and to illness, but from what Lucilla saw, what he’d managed was nothing short of a miracle.

And part of that miracle was what brought her here today. Four years ago, she’d finally had enough of her father’s physicians stalling and procrastinating in adopting Ky’s new techniques and removed them all from their positions, finding new people with some background in more traditional methods but who were willing to learn the new ways.

Surprisingly, there had been few Romans who’d fit that description. She’d never thought of her people as particularly hardheaded, especially not with how much they’d taken to Ky’s other innovations, or how advanced they’d been before Ky. Well, innovative for the pre-Ky world, anyway.

Thankfully, her people weren’t just Romans anymore, and there were plenty of Ulaid and Caledonians who’d been more adaptable. Which included the Caledonian who’d adapted the fastest, and who two years ago she’d crowned as the Imperial physician and put in charge of training new physicians and setting imperial standards. She’d also placed him in charge of the legion’s medicos, but that was more to set standards for legion physicians and appoint deputies that would travel with the legions themselves.

He was waiting out front of the Imperial Medical Center when Lucilla arrived, along with what looked like most of the building’s staff. The man was almost as busy as Hortensius with how busy he kept himself, so Lucilla had sent a warning she would be visiting to make sure he was available to talk to her, since she had limited time in the day and too much to deal with.

It was always a surprise to see the man in person. Had she not known he was Caledonian, Lucilla might not have known it. Most of the Caledonians she’d known had all been large men with thick mats of hair. Hywel was almost frail-looking, his arms thin and his back slightly hunched, which explained why he also walked so slowly.

There was nothing, however, slow about his mind.

“Empress, it’s good to see you again,” he said, bowing. “Your message did not say to what I owed the pleasure.”

“The Consul has sent a lot of instructions for you. Now that we’ve met the enemy, it is clear we will be facing a new type of war which will create new types of wounded, and we need to be ready to adapt to that.”

“Certainly, certainly. Please, follow me inside.”

Lucilla waved to her protective detail to wait outside along with most of the courtiers, taking only her private guards inside, walking past rows of beds, only about a third full at the moment. That was to be expected. This was not the only, or even the largest, of the hospitals in the city, only taking the worst cases, and otherwise used for teaching and medical study.

She passed through into a series of smaller rooms and hallways, eventually ending at a nearly pristine office, full of papers, but each organized neatly, everything in its place.

Lucilla settled into the chair across from Hywel’s desk, waving her hand at Claudius, who pulled a stack of papers out of his bag and set them on the physician’s desk.

“The Consul has sent new instructions regarding medical techniques,” she began. “Before you say anything, I know this is going to be challenging and a lot to ask. But it’s imperative we manage to reach the goals he’s set. Facing firearms now, we are expecting, and already seeing, new wounds that will require new medical procedures to deal with. The death rate among our wounded is much higher than what the Consul feels is appropriate. So this has become your top priority.”

“Surgery?” he said, shocked, looking over the pages and then back up to her. “Does the Consul understand how high the mortality rates that come with surgery?”

“He does, but that is what this is covering. You’ve already learned so much about diseases, which was important for healing people, but was also to prepare you for now. It’s not that much different from how you lowered mortality on cuts and puncture wounds. Any opening into the body allows infection, as you’ve learned. Surgery is just a larger opening into the body, so infection control becomes more important. Which is what a lot of these instructions cover.”

He continued to flip through pages, nodding as he looked through them. 

“Okay, I can see that,” he said.

“Ky said the key was, with the kinds of wounds we will find, if the bone is not broken, cutting away the infected or damaged flesh, then stitching the wound closed to allow it to heal. The damaged flesh will decay in the body and allow new infection to come in, which is why surgery so often results in death. There will be a point where enough flesh is dead, or bones are broken badly enough, where the limb might have to be removed. This is dangerous, and is harder to control the spread of infection, but is often the only way to save a patient. This is more likely with the large-sized bullets, which will shatter bone easily.”

“This seems very difficult,” the physician said, looking at the diagrams. “I only understand part of it myself, which will make teaching it difficult, to say the least.”

“I know, which is why the sooner we can start, the better. We’re also ramping up production of antibiotics and other medicines to help, as well as additional distilled disinfectants. In addition, you’ll see that the instructions on some of the surgeries and amputations include putting the patient to sleep. There will be a new medicine coming that, when used, will render the patient unconscious and unable to be woken, allowing them to withstand the extreme pain of the procedures. However, it is incredibly dangerous and must be used extremely carefully. Used inappropriately, it could render the physician unconscious or kill the patient and it is incredibly volatile and easily set afire. However, without it, most of these procedures would become impossible on a practical level. Until you get it, it’s important we focus on the basics. Sanitation, debriding the wounds, closing the wounds properly, and maintaining post-surgery care.”

“This is all fascinating, Empress. Truly groundbreaking work. But I must confess, theory can only take us so far. The only way to truly master these techniques is through practical application; real surgeries on actual patients.”

“You’re right, of course,” Lucilla said. “Which is why I’ve made arrangements to ensure you receive the necessary experience.”

The physician’s eyebrows rose in curiosity.

“I’ll be instructing the Praetorians, and expect you to instruct your people, to bring the first serious injuries directly here. We will, of course, be looking for specific types of injuries for you to work on. Injuries that would typically require amputation or complex surgery for the patient to survive.”

“That’s... quite a responsibility, Empress. The odds are against many, or even most, of the people that are brought here for quite some time.”

“Again, we know that. To be fair, many of these people would not live regardless, and of course, if you think you can defeat them otherwise, then by all means do your best to save them. But if not, then you can attempt these methods and... pray to the gods.”

“And until you find my first patient... although I should probably call them victims.”

“Study the techniques provided thoroughly,” Lucilla said. “Practice on animals where possible. Do everything in your power to prepare yourself and your staff for what’s to come.”

He didn’t like the instruction, but after a moment he nodded. “I will, of course, do my best, Your Majesty.”

“I have every confidence in you. Keep me informed of your progress,” Lucilla said.

She just hoped he could prove her right in time.

***

Eastern Germania

The early morning sun cast long shadows across the sprawling military encampment as Ky, Ursinus, and Bomilcar stood outside of the command tent, watching men assemble for the march. Their mobile camp had grown over the month of retreating, adding more legions to the one that had retreated out of Sardinia.

Unfortunately, the enemy’s ranks had also swelled, growing at a faster rate than the Britannians had. They didn’t outnumber the Britannians the way the Carthaginians had, but firearms made any distance more impactful. The style of war had changed, and Sophus and Ky had worked on getting new tactics for the legions. Simple line tactics worked when facing off against more ancient style weapons, but there needed to be a change.

They had gone over as many options as possible, with Sophus going over the deadly styles of combat seen in Victorian era combat, particularly after the invention of the rifled musket. Ky had Sophus go through its records and give him an idea of later combat techniques, but most of those only worked if the units had a higher rate of fire or were mechanized, neither of which were likely in the near future.

The lower rate of fire meant that the best use of firepower was still massed volleys unless his men could attack from a prepared position. Rifled muskets weren’t as accurate as he would have liked, not compared to later weapon systems, which made loose skirmish formations safer in terms of loss of life, but less effective for breaking enemy units.

Beyond the rate of fire, black powder just had too much drop over range to be accurate in real practice, when the smoke was thick and adrenaline high. Ky doubted having his men spread out and firing independently would be accurate enough to cause sufficient damage to enemy formations.

The other big issue that limited tactics changes was that you had to stand up to reload the weapon at all effectively. It was possible to do it lying down, but it was much slower, which was saying something considering the already slow reload times.

There were, of course, changes that could be made to increase the effectiveness of the tactics they had at hand. Sophus’s records showed, again and again, that defense gave a significant force multiple to offense, especially when used in a prepared position.

That wouldn’t always be possible, but he and his officers had discussed for several weeks now how to best achieve that result, and why that was so much more important. Ky could only hope that his knowledge of real-world tactics in these kinds of engagements would give his men an advantage. 

“It’s good to see you on your feet, Consul,” Bomilcar said to Ky.

Although he had been out of his coma for several weeks, Sophus had insisted he stay more or less immobile and bedridden to allow the nanites to do their job, bringing commanders into his tent to go over strategy while he recuperated.

“Indeed, Consul. The injury you sustained would have felled any other man,” Ursinus said. “The men have already started to talk about it.”

Carus had already reported to him some of the gossip going around camp since his first steps out of his tent yesterday, when Sophus gave him the go-ahead to get up and move around again. The gossip was getting back to the levels it had been when he first arrived in Britain almost ten years ago. Ky had hoped he had put that kind of talk behind him, but apparently it took just one preternatural feat to bring them back.

“I’ve heard,” Ky said. “I appreciate their concern, but please tell your commanders to keep a lid on that kind of gossip.”

“It does the men good and makes the men feel confident to have an agent of the gods with them,” Bomilcar said. “Morale was very low after our defeat and the constant retreating did not make it better. Your recovery is the one thing they’ve had to cling to. Don’t take it from the boys now.”

Ky made a non-committal noise. He didn’t enjoy the talk, but Bomilcar had a point. Carus had said something similar about the men’s morale finally starting to turn around.

He just didn’t love the way it was happening.

“That’s all fine and good until I don’t pull through a miracle and let them down. Then morale will plummet further than ever.”

“Except that hasn’t ever happened,” Ursinus added.

Ky shot him a look, but it was clear from both of their attitudes that they had no plans to shut down the gossip any time soon. It had been the same reaction he had gotten from Carus.

“Well, let’s focus on the matter at hand,” Ky said. “What’s the latest from our scouts?”

“The easterners are advancing again. They’ve been pushing hard since dawn.”

“I’m not sure how much longer we can run,” Ursinus said. “We’ve run out of ground to give. We’re only a few days’ march from our only rail line out this far, and if that should fall, we will have trouble supplying our army.”

“Which is why we’re done running. Now that Marcus has fully joined us and with that last batch of replacements, I think it’s time to take the fight to them again.”

“His men do build us to four legions, Consul,” Bomilcar said. “But the easterners have not been idle. They’ve continued to get reinforcements as well.”

“True, but slower, since most of their men are marching quite a distance to reach us without, it seems, supporting railroad.”

“That we know of,” Bomilcar countered. “Our scouts haven’t been able to get that far behind their lines as of yet. At least not with usable information.”

“True. Which is why we have to make the men we have count, because until we get better intel of what is happening in the far east and what we’re actually facing, we have to assume they won’t stop coming. It’s why we need to stay mobile and ensure that battle, when it comes. Force them to make tactical mistakes, attacking us where we are strongest and hitting them where they are weakest.”

Ky had already discussed this at length with Bomilcar, the need to split their forces at times, to withdraw to pre-planned points, to make themselves appear weak to pull in the enemy. Bomilcar had been leery about it since Ky had first brought the idea up.

“A risky strategy,” Bomilcar commented. “If miscalculated, we could end up with the opposite result.”

“Perhaps,” Ky agreed. “But necessary. We can’t afford another head-on engagement like before. Which is where you come in, Ursinus.”

“Me?”

“Yes. We need to take the fight to the Easterners, but I don’t want to just march right toward them, so I have a job for you. I want you to take your legion and Marcus’s 2nd and split from the main body. I know you’re going to be mobile and we’ll be out of contact, which is why I need you to hit the timetables I set for you as precisely as you can while Bomilcar takes his and Aelius’s legion and marches toward the enemy.”

“Consul…” Bomilcar started to say.

“I know what you’re going to say, but I think this is necessary,” Ky said, interrupting him and keeping his attention to Ursinus. “Do you think you can handle it?”

“Yes, Consul. We won’t let you down.”

“Good. Start to break camp. I want the legions on the march in the next three hours.”

Both men saluted and started for their men. Bomilcar wasn’t wrong, it was a risk, but the Carthaginian tended to play it safe in battle, especially when firearms were in use. Now they had a need for aggression and decisive action.

Ky just hoped he didn’t let the men down.