The Depths of Neptune - Chapter 2

Emain Macha, Ériu

Llassar sat on the horse he’d borrowed from the king’s stables and watched the king's son ride in tight circles around a course laid out in the fields just outside of town. When he’d finally broken through Conchobar’s distrust and summoned the Roman, now Britannian, legions to deal with the Carthaginians and their local allies, they’d brought a range of new inventions with them to amaze and dazzle the Ulaid. Although they were more organized than his people had been before Talogren began his consolidation of the tribes, their arts hadn’t been much better.

Iron or simple crucible steel weapons that did the job, but dulled easily and broke often, and simple bows were their weapons of choice. He’d always admired the Romans with their better-forged steel and ability to make weapons that required more precision engineering, such as their siege weapons or arcuballista.

That had changed a year ago when the Romans began using steel stronger than anything he’d seen or heard of before, and the new arcuballista with range and power to drive through a man’s shield and the man behind it. They’d also had a new kind of saddle that allowed them to turn in such a tight radius that their horsemen could ride in close circles around their enemies. It was hard to believe a little loop of leather sewn into a saddle would change the very nature of the way they used mounted forces, but it had.

The Ulaid weren’t able to recreate most of the Romans’ inventions, or he should say the Consul’s, since everyone knew he was the well from which all of these new ideas sprang, new technology even if their new allies now shared the secrets. They’d incorporated using the stirrups, as Ky had called them, almost instantly.

Although the highlands, where Llassar came from, had open land, it was a very mountainous region with most of its open fields either on an incline or decline, neither of which lent to riding at a full gallop for extended periods of time. They mostly used horses to pull carts or to get from one place or another faster.

Ériu, however, had a lot more open land, and even before the introduction of stirrups, horse racing was a favorite pastime. With them, sharp turns and double backs had been added to their staked-out courses, apparently making it much more enjoyable to both ride and watch. Llassar didn’t care much for either, but it was his job to watch over the prince, who did enjoy it and spent some time riding every day they were at the capital city and the weather cooperated.

“He doesn’t let up, does he?” Velius asked, riding up next to Llassar.

“Not when it’s something like this, or women. When it’s listening to the petitions of his subjects or deciding the allotment of resources, he can barely keep his eyes open.”

“He’s a child. When I was his age, I had just joined the legion, barely sure of which end of my sword to hold. I can’t imagine how poorly I would have acted if I was suddenly handed the reins of government.”

“Lots of governing happening out there?” Velius asked with a smile.

Llassar just shrugged without answering.

“A messenger just arrived from Devnum,” Velius said when it became clear Llassar wasn’t going to add to his shrug. “Now that we’re down to the last holdouts, the Consul has decided we need to start bringing our forces back home, to prepare for the assault on the continent.”

“I think that is a mistake. The local forces are not going to be able to clean up the holdouts, especially Fergus and Queen Medb, by themselves. She was the only one smart enough to hold back some of her forces. The Ulaid were never able to re-form their army after those first crushing defeats, and now that they are part of the Empire most of the citizens who are remaining in the military will probably be sent to Rome to train as legionaries. The king's guard force isn’t sufficient to clear out Queen Medb. In a year, the rebels will begin retaking territory, which will prompt some of the other converts to return to their old ways. We will be forced to divert more manpower back here, only this time it will be after we’ve begun our invasion of the continent. That doesn’t even address the brigand problem. You know as well as I do how many men have had to be pulled from the legions to ride patrols and run down outlaws.”

“I agree with you. As does the Consul. The first batch of Praetorian trainers are arriving with the king's return, which should help get control of the brigand problem. He’s also leaving Auspex and his legions with you until the queen is dealt with and all of the hostile forces have been swept up. After that, Auspex will return to join the rest of the legions and the task of keeping the countryside under control will be the responsibility of whoever gets picked as the Ulaid Praetorian commander.”

“He’s leaving us Auspex?”

“Yes. The Consul read both of our reports. He wouldn’t leave you stranded.”

“Even good men are sometimes forced to make bad decisions because of the necessities of war.”

“True, but we have some time. I haven’t been privy to his planning sessions, but my guess is that he is planning to deal with the holdouts between Ériu and Britannia. If it was my choice, that would be a good test of our forces before we try them under less easily controlled circumstances. The island is small enough; he probably doesn’t need all of the legions for that. We also need time to begin training the new recruits from here and from the previously occupied territories in Britannia. That will take time.”

“Probably.”

“Direct combat command will remain with Auspex. You’re an excellent warrior, but he has more experience in commanding legions in the field. You will remain in overall command for strategic decisions.”

“A wise precaution.”

“Now that the treaty is signed, you will undoubtedly start getting merchants who see the potential here much like they did when your homeland was opened up for trade. While a lot of the more questionable men were weeded out then, I have never known that well to run completely dry. I left his message for you to read yourself, but it’s up to you to keep them from upsetting things until the alliance becomes more solid. I don’t envy you the work. Give me a Carthaginian horde any day rather than merchants and politicians.”

Llassar finally looked away from the prince to the legate, giving him a deadpan look. They both knew Llassar was a warrior at heart and never wanted to deal with politics or the like, either. Unfortunately, his contacts with the Ulaid and the trust Talogren and the other Caledonians had in him had made him the only choice to open communications between the Ulaid and the Britannians. It seemed that once he was thrust into the political arena, it was difficult for him to get reassigned as a simple military commander.

“Fine. I’ll stop teasing you,” Velius said, extending his hand. “It was a pleasure working with you. I look forward to your return to Britannia.”

“As do I,” Llassar said, grasping the other man’s forearm.

They held their grasp for several moments before Velius released his hold and turned his horse back towards the legion camps on the other side of Emain Macha. Llassar watched him ride away for a moment before turning his attention back to the galloping prince, who’d been placed under his ‘guidance’ while his father was away.

Sitting stone still, the older warrior's stoic expression hid his whirlpool of thoughts as he began to work through his options, and how he would be able to convince the prince that his choice was the right one.

***

Devnum, Nova Rome

“… I pledge my fealty and allegiance to the Britannic Empire and Titus Flavius Germanicus, Emperor of Britannia Magna and its people. I pledge I shall faithfully execute all that the Emperor commands, that I shall never desert his service, and that I shall not seek to avoid death in doing my duty to the Britannic Empire. I so swear my sword and my life,” Bomilcar, former Carthaginian general, said.

“Rise,” Germanicus, the aforementioned Emperor, said.

He had been standing above the kneeling general, looking down on his bowed, balding head. Ky watched from his position to the right and slightly behind the Emperor, wondering about the ceremony. History being different here than what was recorded in Ky’s time, by the time Rome became an empire in this reality, it hadn’t been in the position to accept allegiance from anyone, always being on the brink of destruction. The Republic had a similar oath for legates, but it wasn’t really appropriate for what was happening here.

Ky and Sophus had looked over some oaths from the post-Roman period in their history for options, although by that time, most oaths were more centered around religion as the church had gained power. Christianity had never arisen in this reality, or at least not to the point where it was noticeable. It was possible that it remained an underground sect, but the Carthaginians were fairly brutal leaders, actively trying to wipe out any worship that didn’t involve their Emperor. Even if it sects did survive, Rome’s removal to Britannia had radically changed the entire history of that region, which would have changed the makeup and viability of any religious groups that would have sprung up in that era.

Regardless, the continued worship of the Greek-inspired pantheon made a lot of those oaths nonviable. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Without consulting either himself or Sophus, Lucilla had come up with her own oath, and given it to her father, basing it mostly on the oaths legates and senators gave at the start of their service.

The forum was being used for this event since the Romans weren’t much for throne rooms, still pretending the Emperor was one among equals rather than an autocratic leader, and it was principally empty. That had been a particular point of contention, once Ky convinced the Emperor that Bomilcar’s conversion was authentic, and he really did want to join the Empire.

Although the Emperor, and Lucilla, tended to view Ky as a well-meaning idiot when it came to the political theatre, for which he didn't blame them, they did finally come around on Bomilcar. They, however, had both been concerned about how difficult it would be to bring the rest of the leadership, not to mention the mob, around on that point. It didn’t help that, not only was he a Carthaginian general, but he’d been the one to lead the huge army intended to kill everyone in its path. Accepting him would be a particularly hard pill for the mob to swallow.

Ky believed that they needed Bomilcar’s military ability and knowledge of Carthaginian tactics, and in the end, the Emperor had come around. They’d finally settled on a small ceremony, followed by keeping the general as far from public view as possible. Only a few very loyal senators, the legates still on Britannia, Ky, Lucilla, and the Emperor were present. Word, of course, would leak out, but it would spread slower and be less impactful than if they’d made a big show of his change in allegiance or made an announcement.

Bomilcar seemed nervous the entire time. Ky was sure he could feel the stares of the legates and senators, most of whom still didn’t trust him and who had watched the proceedings with scowls on their faces.

“In the name of the people of Rome, Caledonia, and Ulaid, I, Titus Flavius Germanicus, accept your service, from now until your death.”

Bomilcar bowed, and that was it. Ky could imagine that this kind of thing usually was followed by cheers and congratulations for the new commander. Instead, the senators all turned and left the forum without a word. To the legates’ credit, they each shook Bomilcar’s hand, although none rose to the level of offering words of encouragement or support. They knew they would have to work with Bomilcar and, as members of the military, they had more experience swallowing orders they disagreed with than the senators, who thought they shat gold and breathed life.

Ky gave Lucilla a nod, silently telling her he wanted a moment with the general. He could have subvocalized the message, passing it over his implants and transmitting to the nearly invisible transmitter she always wore in her ear, but he found that he liked their growing ability to communicate non-verbally, and took advantage of it as often as he could. She nodded back and whispered to her father, while Ky gestured for the legates and others who had not left on their own to follow them out of the forum, leaving Bomilcar alone with him in the square-shaped room.

“They don’t particularly care for me,” Bomilcar said, nodding in the direction the senators had gone.

“They’re politicians. They don’t like anyone who doesn’t give them an advantage. Give them time, though, and they’ll come around. There’s a lot you can do for the Empire, and once you start having successes, I think you’ll see that their tune will quickly change.”

“Until then, I’m not to be trusted, though. I know your legates feel the same.”

“Do you blame them? You did try to have everyone they know murdered. I know it’s war and you had your orders. I don’t begrudge you that fact, or the fact that you’ve changed sides. But, it’s going to take some time for everyone to get comfortable seeing you on our side.”

“I know. It just feels wrong, being here, saying those words to your Emperor.”

“He’s your Emperor now too,” Ky pointed out. “It will get easier with time. You didn’t cut ties with your old masters, they cut ties with you. That doesn’t make the guilt of what would have been treason just a few months ago feel any less strange, I know. Give it time.”

“I hope so.”

“Until then, I will just have to keep you busy enough that you don’t wallow in the guilt,” Ky said, clapping Bomilcar on the shoulder and leading him out of the forum.

***

Carthage

Caesius sat in the antechamber of the emperor’s reception hall, fuming. He’d been in Carthage for more than a month and had been forced to cool his heels the entire time. Hardly any ships had returned from Britannia. Most of those had been from the fleet they’d sent with reinforcements. The survivors were spreading tales of Roman ships that could create thunderstorms on command. He’d seen some of the things the foreigner had done and could imagine how some of the demon’s tricks could be taken as magic by the superstitious Carthaginians.

Nothing Caesius had seen suggested his father’s new favorite could destroy an entire fleet on his own, however. Most likely, the fools had been frightened, and then all but sunk their own ships in an attempt to flee, and were now trying to cover up their incompetence. If they were anything like the idiot who’d carried him from Britannia to Carthage, Caesius was surprised any ships had made it to the island intact and back again. For the descendants of seafaring traders, they were worse at navigating Oceanus than the Romans. Multiple times the few items he’d been able to bring with him were flooded as the ship began to take on large volumes of water over the side.

Instead of trying to sail a huge fleet across the much more hazardous waters of Oceanus, the Carthaginians should have talked to him. He was the only one, so far, to return from Britannia and it was only through his contacts, including a network of informants up the coastline of Germania and Hispania, that he had gotten word that Londinium and the Carthaginian forces in Hibernia had fallen. He could have told the Carthaginian Emperor what was happening and given him the best advice about how to deal with the defeats. Instead, they put him in a tiny hut surrounded by squalor and filth, where he was told that he must wait to be summoned.

Now that they finally called for him, bringing him from the slums he was forced to stay in to the giant palace complex at the heart of the city, he'd been forced to wait again. It had been hours since he had arrived, the sun traveling halfway across the sky as he sat on this bench, waiting.

It wasn’t like he could storm out, either. Even the hovel he was living in was provided by the emperor. He’d been able to bring almost nothing worth selling when he’d been forced to flee, which left him destitute in a place where his people were considered a threat.

Finally, one of the emperor's black-clad lackeys came for him. He found them somewhat disconcerting, their faces and bodies, except the eyes and the hands, were covered in thick black fabric that must be sweltering in the African heat. They hardly ever spoke, as far as he could tell, to the point where Caesius thought that perhaps their tongues had been removed. It was a sensible precaution for the people used to deliver messages, as it limited their ability to tell anyone what they saw or heard, but it made them all the more unsettling. The man, if he still was one, gestured in a sweeping bow for Caesius to follow him through the double doors.

Caesius hadn’t actually met the emperor before, and honestly had expected someone more … imposing. He was seated on a magnificent golden throne, wearing an ornate purple 'schenti', with intricate patterns embroidered across it and a close-fitting purple shawl over his shoulders. On his head, he wore a conical cap with flowing hair that Caesius was certain wasn’t the emperor’s hair, and probably not even human hair, along with red and purple ribbons, which flowed down his back and out of sight.

Like most men Caesius had seen here, the emperor had dark, curly hair and a thick beard, although Caesius was almost certain the cap hid a noticeable bald section from how thin the hair flowing out of it was. Even though he was sitting down, it was clear the emperor was a short, very plump man, with puffy arms and fingers that looked like sausages.

Still, pleasantries must be practiced, Caesius thought as he genuflected to the floor, placing his arms outstretched and his head on the carpet before the steps leading up to the emperor, in a sign of submission. It was humiliating, but Caesius had accepted many humiliations since being forced to flee from his birthright, and he was prepared to face many more if that’s what it took to win back his throne.

“Your majesty, I am pleased that you agreed to see me. I have come from …”

“SILENCE!” The emperor shouted, his voice surprisingly commanding and harsh for someone who looked like he did. “I did not bring you here to grovel or spin lies. You are here to account for your failure.”

“My failure!” Caesius said, rising quickly and moving towards the steps leading up to the diadem, and then freezing as the guards drew their swords and closed in on him.

Caesius quickly backed away from the steps, which had the effect of at least getting the guards to take a step back, although they didn’t sheath their swords.

“I did not fail,” Caesius said, much more calmly this time. “Time and again I provided information that any competent commander could have used to destroy the Roman army and bring all of my people under the rule of your empire. General after general, sent by the governor, failed to defeat them, even with their overwhelming arms. My agents destroyed weapons depots and nearly killed my sister and the foreigner, taking both out of play for some time. Still, the governor did not act in time to take advantage of my successes.”

He was stretching the truth about the foreigner, at least. He’d received word when the man had fallen in battle and it had looked like he might die. After making sure he was the first to pass the news along, he reported it in such a way that his agents could at least take partial credit for the event. Considering the distance between here and the now-deceased governor and the time that had passed, Caesius felt comfortable claiming that achievement as his own.

“Moreover, I have provided a wealth of information on the Roman plans and weapons, which could have been used to carry your armies to success. Instead, you were delivered failure after failure by your governor, who didn’t use my information successfully.”

The emperor stared at him for a moment, before turning his head to one of the military commanders standing a few steps down from the throne, to one side of the dais stairs.

“We have looked at your reports, and apart from the location of your sister and her guard last year, almost nothing you provided was remarkable. Most of that information was easily obtainable even by our spies, who do not have the high positions at court that you claim for your sources. The only reason we have copies of their new crossbows is because they were retrieved during a battle and sent here by our agents. We have not seen any technical specifications for the weapons or for the new metallurgical reports that we have heard of. We have heard reports of some kind of thunder weapon that matches with reports of a powder that burns very quickly and that almost burned down half of their capital, by accident, months ago. If your information is so vital, why are we hearing this from our lowly placed agents and not your sources?”

“I think you are either underestimating the value of my intelligence, or casting doubt on it because you don’t understand it.”

“And I think you are a waste of space,” the general said, before turning and bowing to the emperor. “My apologies majestic one, but I do not believe this man offers anything of value, and instead sows seeds of confusion. It would be better to place him on a pike as a warning to other false turncoats, rather than give him future audiences at court. He is one of the only people to return from Londinium. We should show other cowards what happens if they do not fight to the last man in your name.”

Caesius, who had come in full of confidence in his position with the Carthaginians, suddenly realized how precarious that position really was.

“I only obtained the information your governor specifically asked for. I offered, even begged, him to allow my agents to target some of the new weapons we’ve been seeing, but he was confident in his army, and felt that if he came back with some of their manufacturers or philosophers who have been working on these items he would … pardon me, your majesty, gain additional favor with you. I, of course, knew you would never allow yourself to be so easily swayed by that, but Maharbaal was always looking for an angle that would benefit him the most.”

Caesius couldn’t remember the last time he lied so much and knew it was a long shot to get either man to believe him. His one saving grace was that he hadn’t lied about Maharbaal’s proclivities. That man was a schemer of the highest order and was wildly blatant about it. Caesius knew that Maharbaal had already been on thin ice with his emperor after losing the first two armies. His only hope was that he could talk fast enough, while leaning into the emperor’s prejudices, that the rotund ruler didn’t think about what he was saying too carefully.

“I make the same offer here. I have men placed throughout the court. I can get my hands on some of their new weapons and notes of their new manufacturing technologies. My people are hardworking and inventive, perfect candidates to join your Empire, and my father and sister have put loyal incompetents in positions of power. If they can get these new weapons to work for them, then I am certain your much more experienced artificers will have no problem duplicating their successes. At the same time, my father is old and senile. I believe my sister and her foreign lover are the ones really running the empire. If we get rid of them, the rest will tumble. I was kept from having them assassinated before, again because the governor felt he had more to gain from bringing them in chains to you, but if you let me send my agents for them, they will die.”

Everything came tumbling out of his mouth quickly until finally, Caesius ran out of words. Silence hung over the audience chamber for minutes as the ruler looked down from his elevated position, his beady eyes calculating.

“We will give you one final chance to succeed. If you do not succeed this time, no number of attempts to shift blame to dead men or claim interference will spare your life. We do not want excuses. We want results. You will get us those weapons to examine and your sister will die, or you will. We have spoken.”

Caesius bowed and backed out of the room. He’d managed to escape with his life, but only barely and his assets still in Rome were dwindling. If he didn’t find a way to kill his sister this time, he wouldn’t survive to make a fourth attempt.