The Triumph of Venus - Chapter 21

Northern Italy

Ky waited outside the large headquarters tent at the center of the sprawling encampment, looking through the rows of men and material as he watched the small procession making its way toward him.

They’d been in this camp for weeks now, and as all camps did, it had started to solidify as soldiers built semi-permanent structures here and there to make their lives a little more comfortable, replacing the portable and more rugged materials used when the legions were on the move. Normally, Ky just took it as a sign of soldiers’ ingenuity, something he could tie to his life before, in the distant future. War and technology might have changed, but soldiers were still soldiers, regardless of the time period.

Now, however, their activity signaled something else. Something that troubled him more every single day. It showed how inactive the legions had become. They were in the height of the campaigning season and nothing was moving. Even his lead elements, which were instructed to keep pushing south, had only just now started to cross into central Italy, a month behind schedule. The entire campaign had ground to a halt, and Ky was beyond frustrated.

He tried to keep those thoughts off his face as his commanders, or at least some of them, separated themselves from their traveling parties and approached. It did say something about each man’s organization and attention to detail that, even though they all came from different areas of the peninsula, they’d all arrived at roughly the same time. That, at least, could make him smile.

“Gentlemen, I appreciate your promptness,” Ky said, reaching out and clasping each of their hands in turn before beckoning them into the command tent. “Let’s get started.”

Ky led the group inside the tent, where a large table dominated the center, maps and reports scattered across it. Normally they all just stood through these conferences, but Ky knew they’d all been on the road, in Bomilcar’s case for a full day, and would be tired, so he gestured for the men to take seats he’d provided for such a case.

“Gentlemen, I don’t need to tell you that things haven’t been going well as of late,” Ky began, the frustration evident in his voice. “We all had a brief moment of hope when some of the villages started to sway toward the Britannians, but things have since fallen apart. Marcus, would you please explain what’s been happening?”

Marcus nodded, his expression grim. “We’ve been making headway in some of the villages, turning things around. Villages were starting to work with us and attacks on our men becoming less frequent. We’d hoped this was the a sign things were started to ease up and we’d again be able to concentrate our forces and move south faster. Unfortunately, this hasn’t been the case. We’ve found the cooperation has been short-lived in nearly every instance. Things go well at first, but after a few weeks, word begins to spread about the work we’re doing in a given village. Inevitably, one of the nights our people pull back to the camps, dissidents and Carthaginians come show up and slaughter everyone that cooperated with the legions. Worse, other villages have started to take notice. Even those that seemed like they might be receptive to working with us have pulled back. It’s making people afraid to work with us.”

“Is it still so bad that we have to remain in camps overnight, instead of staying in these villages permanently?” Bomilcar, who’d remained focused on the push south, asked. “Couldn’t we pull our men out of their camps and deploy them in a village itself, to protect the people there?”

“I wish it were that simple,” Ky said. “We can’t spare enough men to be in every village, and the Carthaginians just hit the ones where we aren’t present. And that’s in the villages that are friendly to us, or were friendly. Some villages are still openly hostile, attacking any soldiers we try to station there. It requires too many men to secure just one village.”

“We’re attempting to try and stop them,” Aelius said. “My men have begun patrolling the outlying areas, and at first we were able to catch and defeat some of the dissidents and Carthaginians, but it’s started to become more difficult. The enemy knows we’re coming, warned by non-violent sympathizers, and simply fades away into the countryside before we arrive. They have too many allies among the locals. To truly secure the region, I’d need at least three or four full legions concentrated here, and even with that, it would likely take the rest of the campaigning season.”

Bomilcar leaned forward and asked, “In light of this, should we stop advancing? My lead elements are already nearing Rome and I could have the city enveloped within the next few days, but taking the city is going to either take manpower or brutality. You’ve ordered against the second and from the sounds of the situation, we don’t have the resources for the first.”

“What have your men seen of the city?”

“The Carthaginians have fortified the city with serious walls, which won’t pose a problem for our cannons, but the collateral damage to the city will be... substantial. Short of that, we’re looking at needing an envelopment and prolonged siege to take it.”

“No. Continue your operations but do your best to minimize civilian casualties and damage to the city. I know it will slow things down, but we’ve already got a problem with public opinion, and it’s only going to get worse if we level the city in the process. If we need to divert some units back to you for the encirclement, we can. Does it look like the city itself is going to hold up and try to keep you out, or are the Carthaginians still in place? And if so, do they show any signs of continuing their retreat?”

“It’s hard to say yet. The Carthaginians are still in the city and have been gathering supplies, I assume to outlast our siege, but until we start to envelop them, we won’t know if their forces will retreat south again or if they plan on making a stand here.”

“Move quickly to surround the city, if you can. We’ve seen the further south we go, the more spread out we get. If we can stop them now, in central Italia, and defeat a bulk of their forces, we’ll have less to worry about later, when you’ve had to shed more manpower to control the countryside.”

“As you order, Consul,” Bomilcar said, sounding unconvinced.

“I know this is all disheartening, and you’re all frustrated,” Ky said, seeing the faces of his commanders. “Believe me, I had hoped we would be further along by now as well. But you are all doing well. We’re behind schedule, but we have not stopped yet. We haven’t passed the point of taking Italia and still making it to Africa this year. It might mean fighting there in the late fall, but the weather there doesn’t turn against us as early as it did in Germania. Keep pushing, keep your men moving, and by the gods, we will see the Carthaginians fall this year.”

They all looked at least somewhat buoyed by Ky’s pronouncement. Ky just hoped he’d be able to deliver on his promise. Right now, he didn’t know if he could.

***

Londinium

A large crowd gathered around the newly built station, cheering wildly as the first train pulled into the station. Hortensius, standing near the door of one of the cars, watched them, happy to see the reception.

They had been met with a variety of emotions during the long months they’d worked on the line, from fear to outright anger. The one thing they hadn’t gotten a lot of was enthusiasm. He understood why. Besides the rails changing the very landscape these people had lived on for generations, the train itself, with its loud sounds and belching smoke, could be frightening. The closer they’d gotten to London, the more people they’d had come out to watch the supply trains arrive with more material for the track, but he hadn’t imagined enough had inured themselves to the sight of the gigantic metal beasts to have this kind of reaction.

He’d also known the Empress, after the trouble he’d had with farmers and landholders along the way, had sent forth emissaries and heralds to talk to the people of Londinium, beating the drum of progress, as she’d put it. But he’d thought that would have limited success. He was happy to see he was wrong, and once again happy to see his ruler had a better handle on the emotions of her people than he ever would.

The train pulled to a full stop and Hortensius stepped out onto the platform. Since he hadn’t expected this kind of reception, he hadn’t prepared anything for it, but it definitely seemed like a moment that needed some kind of pronouncement.

The crowd cheered as they saw him step out of the train. He was pretty sure most did not know who he was. Outside of Factorium, he tended to take a back seat to politicians and other public figures. There were some dignitaries up front who he’d worked with and spoken to from time to time, including the duumviri, a pair of the top elected officials in the city, the city prefect appointed by the Empress, and the aediles, who’d handled the day-to-day operations in the city, and who he’d worked with the closest to finalize the platform construction and final track laying.

But for each of those, there were a dozen or more of what looked like normal citizens, who probably had no clue who he was. He knew he was being cheered mostly because he had stepped out first and seemed in charge, but it was a strange feeling. He held up his hands to quiet them, a wide smile crossing his face.

“My friends, this is a momentous day for our great empire! For months now, our team of engineers and workers have toiled endlessly along the route from capitol to finish this great project. They have crossed rivers, cut through hills, and laid mile after mile of rails across the countryside to bring this modern wonder to your very doorsteps!”

The crowd cheered again and Hortensius let their enthusiasm wash over him for a moment before continuing.

“I know many of you have heard about the train and what you can expect, and I am here to tell you that what you have heard is true. What used to be a weeks journey to the capital can now be done in a single day, with stops along the way at major towns and settlements, allowing families, merchants and farmers to travel the length of our empire quickly, opening up opportunities of all types to every Britannian. Goods from Factorium will now be able to come here in large quantities without the need for trains of wagons spending long days hauling them, making the things you’ve asked for, the new innovations and products, to be more readily available and less expensive. It will grow the city’s port, already on the precipice of becoming the largest in the empire, even faster, since it will be faster and cheaper for goods to come here by train than by ship or mule. Food will be more readily available, arriving, in some cases, the same day it was picked from the fields, to your very doorstep.”

The crowd cheered again, whistling and clapping, as Hortensius listed off all the benefits they were likely to reap from the finished train line.

“Let this accomplishment stand as a symbol of our empire’s spirit of innovation and progress! United as one people, there is no feat of engineering we cannot achieve, no challenge we cannot overcome. Just as the iron road connects our lands, let it bring us closer in camaraderie and prosperity. We embark now into an exciting new era of industry and advancement. The future is ours, friends!”

Hortensius thrust his fists into the air triumphantly. The crowd responded with a deafening roar.

One of the men in charge of running the station then announced that tickets for the train’s return trip to Factorium and Devnum were available now, causing an almost stampede as the crowd pushed and shoved to be allowed to get theirs, forcing Hortensius back aboard the train car reserved for him and his men. He even took the precautions of barring the door as the crowd swelled around the train.

He understood their enthusiasm, but doubted this many people all needed to go to Devnum or Factorium. More likely, they wanted to be one of the first to take the train, or were just excited for the opportunity. Either way, he’d seen how people’s enthusiasm could sometimes cause unintended devastation, and he had no interest in being trampled in the chaos.

“Well, that certainly was exciting,” Hortensius said, sitting on one of the cushioned benches in the specially designed car for dignitaries, resembling more a fine carriage, only larger, compared to the wagon-like packed in rows of the other cars.

“I want to commend you all on your amazing work,” Hortensius said to the engineers, mostly his managers who’d overseen the day-to-day deployment of this rail line. “You should be proud of yourselves for a job well done. And you know what that means.”

It was an old joke of his, and elicited a groan from the assembled men, who knew what was coming next.

“Exactly,” Hortensius said. “More work. This line is only partially finished. The Empress has charged us with extending the line north from Devnum to Monadhcarden before we begin constructing separate, crossing or spur lines. I’m sure I don’t need to point out that this will be a new challenge with a whole lot of new problems we’re going to have to overcome. Caledonia is a very different landscape than we’ve dealt with so far, and I’m all but certain we’re going to have new challenges to deal with. Even those challenges we’ve already bested, bridging and tunneling, will be taken to new levels. While Tasius begins assembling supplies and starting the line out of Devnum, the rest of us will go ahead and scout the proposed route north. I want every bridge, tunnel, and grading needed mapped out ahead of time. The Empress has promised the chieftain of Caledonia we would have this finished by the harvest, and I am not going to disappoint her. Is that clear?”

Hortensius smiled as the engineers groaned hyperbolically. Though the work was hard, he knew they took pride in their accomplishments.

“I never doubted that you lads were up for it,” Hortensius said, clapping the shoulder of the engineer nearest him. “You should all be proud of yourselves. You’ve brought Britannia into a new era. We’re shaping the future here.”

This time, the men dropped all pretenses. They loved their work, even when it remained behind the scenes, unrecognized. To see it so visibly though, not only praised but truly appreciated. That was an engineer’s dream.

***

Neitin, Vettones Region, Central Hispania

The small village of Neitin sat a few miles north of Arandur, one of a number of satellite settlements that had sprung up from Arandur itself as it began the slow transition from a single village to a full, region-spanning tribe.

Llassar had seen the same thing happen in his homeland, having witnessed Talogren’s own tribe expand in a similar way during his lifetime. True, it had taken the Consul and the Romans to accelerate that from being regional to the entirety of northern Britannia, but Llassar thought it was likely to have happened naturally on its own, just at a slower pace.

One thing he’d learned is how disruptive that entire experience was to the other villages nearby. Places like Arandur did not exist in a vacuum, and to grow and expand, they had to either replace or subsume the people already in the places they wanted to expand into.

Unfortunately, this had suddenly become a different world. Ky had begun to usher in a time where trade and mutual cooperation could lead to greater prosperity for tribes than conquering weaker neighbors and taking what they had ever could. It wasn’t only the Consul. The Carthaginians had shown that the more a civilization conquered to grow, they more they had to conquer, as the weight of all the peoples they drained of resources grew like stones around their neck, until they eventually ran out of victims and collapsed in on themselves.

That was fine for people like the Romans, who’d already grown to a size to put themselves in a position of leadership, tribes already forced to cooperate for self-survival like Caledonia had been or Germania was, and of course the smaller tribes, whose very existence was allowed to continue, but was very much a negative for tribes like the Arandur. On the verge of growing into something more, they could only see how the new paradigm limited them.

Lassar pulled his small command up short as they arrived at the outskirts of the village. Had it been up to Llassar, he would have left them behind and come on his own, but considering the raids and banditry, he’d been forced to agree they were necessary. His main worry had been, regardless of whether the Arandur were making up the attack or it had really happened, these people being on edge when he arrived. If he was going to find out what happened, he needed them talking, and a bunch of foreign soldiers would not help that.

He was proven right, however, once they arrived and found a dozen warriors waiting for him, all seemingly on edge, hands never far from a weapon.

“Decanus, please keep your men here, outside of town,” Llassar said to the leader of the squads that had accompanied him.

Llassar dismounted and approached the waiting warriors, raising a hand in greeting. Their leader, a tall man with a prominent scar across his face, stepped forward to meet him.

“I am Ambatus. The elders await you,” he said brusquely, then turned to lead Llassar into the village without further niceties.

The rest of the warriors crowded in around Llassar as Ambatus escorted him through toward the center of the village. Llassar had expected the crowd with them to grow as they went further into the village, as curious people wanted to see more of the stranger entering their home, and to find out what was happening. In a village like this, so similar to the one he’d grown up in, gossip was possibly the most valuable commodity.

Instead, the few people he could see shied away from the crowd. They were clearly curious, stretching their necks to try and catch a glimpse of him, but none tried to join their procession, their fear clearly greater than their curiosity.

Ambatus brought Llassar to a large roundhouse at the center of the village, three elderly men stood outside, their bearded faces lined with age and somber. They inclined their heads in solemn greeting.

“I am Neton,” the one in the center said.

He gestured to the others. “My fellows, Caros and Turibel. We’ve been told by you are here to inspect the aftermath of the raid on us, and we are to cooperate with you fully.”

“I’d also like to interview some of your people who saw the raid in person.”

There was a small look between Caros and Turibel, but Neton didn’t flinch. “Fine. Ambatus will show you around.”

As with their servant, the three men had nothing else to say. They simply turned and walked away, back into the roundhouse. Llassar found their attitudes a little confounding. He’d talked with the leaders of the southern tribes, even the ones who were incensed that Britannian weapons were being used against their people, and they hadn’t had nearly this kind of reaction. The leaders of the Arandur all but demanded someone come see what was done here, and now that Llassar was here, he was treated as if he were a nuisance, rather than something they demanded.

Ambatus began to show Llassar around the village, most of which seemed to be on the north side of the village. Llassar had to admit, the damage met with what Llassar would have expected of a raid. A few burned-down huts, the doors to a storage barn ripped off, the building seemingly empty except for a few grain kernels and a little fodder that would have spilled from their containers. Some of the huts in this area had makeshift doors over their entrances that looked new, as if recently put into place.

From his experience, raiders, real raiders, didn’t just burn a settlement to the ground. They might burn one or two buildings if the inhabitants fought back too much or to create a bulwark between themselves and the rest of the village that might be trying to rally against them, but the destruction wasn’t wanton. They mostly broke into homes and storage centers to steal goods and take captives, and their hands would be full as they left the village, making it harder for them to destroy it on the way out.

The people, however, were more interesting. He could see villagers peering out through gaps in walls or hovered in anxious clusters, many sporting crude bandages over wounds. The sense he was getting, above all else, was one of fear.

“Tell me again about the attack,” he asked Ambatus and his men as they walked. “How many raiders were there?”

“I did not count each man. But many, mostly armed with your demandable weapons.”

“Enough to overwhelm three bands worth of warriors,” one of the warriors said.

“And no one identified symbols or markings to indicate which tribe they belonged to?”

“Why would they identify themselves when they are here to kill our men and take our women,” Ambatus said. “One of the northern tribes, I think.”

“We have records of who we sold weapons to. If we gave you a list, could you pick out which tribe specifically?”

“No. We don’t trade or mix with those dogs.”

“I understand there’s a fairly large gap between you and the northern tribes, more that there are between you and the southern ones. It seems a very long way to go for a raid to steal supplies and captives. Did you see wagons or something else they might use to carry off their spoils?”

Instead of answering directly, Ambatus bristled at the question. “You think we are mistaken about who attacked us without cause? Or mayhap you think we are lying?”

“I am simply trying to understand the full truth of what happened here. If I could speak to some of the survivors, who saw the men up close, that would help.”

For a moment, Llassar thought Ambatus was going to decline, glaring at him the way the Hispanian was, but then he nodded once and turned, leading Llassar to a set of huts on the very edge of the village.

These were some of the worst damaged huts, with the one he stopped at missing the door, with ax markings in the wood next to the doorway, showing the kind of violence that had happened here. The hut that had been next to it was one of the ones that had been put to the torch, burned to the ground until only a sooty outline remained.

A young woman stood inside the door, holding the cloth that had been hung over it aside as they approached. She had her arm in a sling and a large bandage on her other arm. Llassar motioned for Ambatus and his men to wait where they were, so he could talk to the woman alone. The warrior clearly did not like being told what to do, but stopped and held his ground.

“May I know your name?” Llassar asked the woman gently as he approached her.

She hesitated before replying, “I am Numa.”

“Numa, can you tell me what happened during the attack?”

She didn’t answer right away, casting her eyes down and slumping a little. When she did look up, she didn’t look at Llassar right away, but instead looked past him, to Ambatus and the warriors, before finally answering.

“Many men came, yelling and carrying loud weapons that struck men down at a distance. They broke into homes looking for food or whatever they could take. Some of our warriors tried to fight but were killed. They cut down my door. My husband tried to fight back but … he wasn’t able to stop them from … what they did.”

She started crying. Llassar waited patiently for her to regain control, which was faster than he would have thought. She seemed to will herself to stop crying as she again looked past him to Ambatus.

“Did you see any of the raiders up close?”

“Only for a moment, when one dragged me from my home. He wore strange clothing and had coloring I did not recognize.”

Llassar had met villagers from the north, all of whom seemed to dress more-or-less similarly to the people here. Had he not been told they were from different villages, he would have assumed they were all neighbors. The elder had also mentioned they’d had some dealing with the northern tribes in the past, and seemed acquainted with them enough that they were recognizable to him.

Which made her claim that they wore “strange clothing” and “unknown coloring” unusual, at best. Even if they were all on horseback and had wagons to carry off goods, they wouldn’t have come from that far away. It also was hard to tell how much was taken. From what Llassar could see, the “devastating raid” had penetrated only a little into the north end of the village, with the rest, including the largest storehouses of food supplies closer to the center of the village, completely untouched.

The story remained much the same as he stopped to talk to other people affected by the attack. All bore injuries and seemed genuinely afraid, but were less focused on telling him what had happened than keep their eyes on Ambatus and the rest of his ‘escorts.’

After the fifth nearly identical, word for word, account of what happened, Llassar gave up and returned to where Ambatus and the other warriors waited. What bothered him the most was that, although the village itself suffered limited damage, the people he’d been sent to speak to had very real injuries. If this was what it was starting to smell like, it made Llassar angry that a community could treat their members like this.

“Thank you for allowing me to speak with the survivors,” Llassar said to Ambatus, not letting his face communicate what he was feeling.

“Did they provide the proof you need of the crimes committed against us?”

“Yes, they shared their experiences and I will be sure to inform my superiors about what I saw.”

“Good,” the man said, as stoic as he had been the entire time.

The warriors followed him through the village only leaving his side when he passed the southern border where his men waited for his return.

The Decanus straightened as Llassar approached. “How bad was it?”

Llassar mounted his horse before replying. “Nonexistent.”

“Really? Some of the villages came close to us while headed out to their fields, or wherever, and were talking about all the injured and dead.”

“How convenient,” Llassar said. “I have enough to report back to the Prince. I think we should try and leave Arandur territory as quickly as possible though.”

Llassar turned his horse to ride south, glancing back one last time. The warriors of Arandur stood together at the edge of the village, woodenly watching their departure. It was unlikely they’d be foolish enough to do anything, but Llassar was no actor, and knew he didn’t hide his credulity as much as he should have. What these people had done had been short sighted, the act of people reacting and not thinking their actions through.

People like that could be unpredictable, and unpredictable people could be dangerous.