The Sword of Jupiter (Imperium #1) - Chapter 15

Ky walked the courtyard the next morning by himself. He was confused  that, during his walk, the one thought that kept returning to him was  that he wished Lucilla was walking with him. They had not arranged to  meet, and, as the Emperor’s daughter, she must have had things she  needed to take care of. Since his disquiet over her absence was not  because he expected her, the feeling was somewhat strange to him.

Considering  the line of thinking, he assumed it must be because she had been  helpful already as a partner he could bounce his thoughts off, much like  Sara had been in his life before. Although the Emperor had agreed to  his plan in principle, nothing had actually been put into place yet,  leaving a lot for Ky to worry about.

Ky stopped his morning walk when he noticed Sellic, Strabo, and Carus, along with nine other men, walking towards him.

“Consul,” Sellic said, the other men falling in behind Sellic.

“I assume these are all of my new lictores?”

“Yes,  Consul. We were informed by the legates that you asked for Carus and  Strabo specifically. The rest were chosen by the legates personally.”

Ky  noticed both Strabo and Carus puff up at the mention that they were  specially selected. In Carus’s case, Ky knew this to be a fiction,  meaning the man continued his role as a simple guard even in the little  things like showing pride over place of selection. The reaction spoke  wonders to the man’s ability to blend in and made Ky consider that, if Ramirus had not been truthful and Carus continued to work prominently for the spymaster, Ky might never know.

“Excellent.  I thank you all for volunteering for my service. I will admit to you  that I am not accustomed to having direct subordinates outside of a  military hierarchy. Where do we go from here?”

“I assumed we would follow the same procedures Ursinus set up for protecting the lady Lucilla.”

“That’s probably fine, but what were they?”

“Keep  in mind she has fewer guards - except for special occasions, such as  her trip to the Oracle - than you are mandated by tradition. The rule  was that two guards would be on duty at all times in eight-hour shifts.  That will, of course, have to change in your situation. My brief from  the legates made it clear we were to act as both personal guards and  staff, should you find the need.”

“The Emperor said the same to me, and I’m almost certain I will find the need.”

“Then  my suggestion is for us to also work in eight-hour shifts, in groups of  four. We will split the most senior of us, myself, Carus, and Strabo,  as the lead lictor on their shift. I ask that you keep at a very  minimum, one man with you at all times. I would prefer two, if at all  possible. This allows the remaining two to spell men for breaks, meals,  and to be available for tasks as needed. I also ask that you allow us to  maintain your daily schedule to ensure we are aware of anything that  might require changes to our security arrangements.”

“That works  fine for me. When will you begin your duties? I assume you will no  longer camp with the legion, but I’m not sure what arrangements I need  to make for you since you are now in my service.”

“You don’t need  to make any arrangements, Consul. I have already spoken with the palace  steward and secured quarters in the praetorian barracks for us. I would  like for Strabo and the three men on his watch to start their duties  immediately.”

“That’ll be fine. As it happens, I do need something  immediately,” Ky said, turning to Strabo. “I need to visit the legions  this morning. Could you arrange for horses and send a messenger to the  legates to inform them?”

“Certainly, Consul.” the centurion said.  “Durus, have the stable prepare horses, then ride ahead, inform the  legates of the Consul’s arrival.”

The man slapped his fist to his  chest in salute and marched off to carry out his task. Ky was somewhat  uncomfortable with having men assigned directly to his service, but he  could appreciate how much easier it would be to tell someone who already  knew how Romans operated, to carry out specific tasks. So far, Ky had  just traveled with the Emperor or soldiers and was not even sure where  he would go to get a horse for the short ride to the legionary camps.

“If you’ll excuse the rest of us, Consul?”

“Yes, thank you, Sellic. I appreciate you agreeing to work with me and taking care of arranging all of this.”

Sellic answered with a salute of his own before the majority of his lictores  walked off towards the Praetorian barracks. Ky headed back into the  Imperial complex to retrieve some sketches he had drawn up the night  before. Tracing over blueprints overlaid by the AI, Ky had put together a  layout of the legion camps with the changes he wanted to be made. The  sketch was not much, but considering the importance of what needed  fixing, Ky wanted to make sure they got his instructions correct.

They  soon arrived at the stables, which turned out to be a small outcropping  of buildings on the south side of the imperial complex, close to the  praetorian barracks. Durus must have hustled, as he had already given  the stable master instructions and left to notify the legates.

The  ride itself was short, only a mile and a half outside of the city  gates. They arrived at the Seventh Legion to find not only Velius but  also Aelius and the dispatched Durus waiting at the front of the camp.

“Legates,”  Ky said, greeting each man. “I want to thank you for finding the men to  serve as my guard. I hope I didn’t deprive you of too many valuable  soldiers.”

“Their subordinates are excited about the opportunity to rise to their new challenges,” Velius said.

“Excellent.  Let’s get down to business. When you gave me the tour the other day, I  noticed several things that bothered me. Follow me please.”

Ky led  the legates, his guards, and not an insignificant number of  legionnaires, who took the opportunity to gawk at their leaders. Ky  stopped just short of the stream that made up the far edge of the camp.

“This is my problem.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Aelius said.

“This,”  Ky said, pointing at the stream, “is your source of drinking water. I  see the stream also used for bathing, washing clothing, and supplies.”

Ky  pointed to several soldiers doing exactly what he described. He then  turned forty-five degrees and pointed at a small, hastily constructed  wooden structure just fifteen yards away.

“That is your latrine. This is my problem.”

Both legates looked at Ky, confused.

“You  said the largest source of casualties and loss of manpower was from  disease. This is one of the biggest causes of disease you have. Many of  the things affecting your men, most notably the flux. The main cause of  this and several other diseases is drinking water contaminated by human  waste. Your latrines are close enough to the river that runoff from the  waste pits is getting into the water. There only needs to be a tiny  amount of waste to make a man sick. Even amounts so diluted in water  that you can’t see them anymore could be enough. Then there’s the  cleaning and bathing in the water the men are drinking. All of these  factors together are a recipe for sickness.”

“I’ve always understood the men were being made sick by bad blood and air.”

“I  know, and I plan on talking to your doctors as well, or at least as  many as will listen to me. Compared to many of your neighbors, your  knowledge of the body and diseases is remarkable. Much of that knowledge  is also wrong.”

“What should we do to fix the problem?”

“For  one, your latrines should be located on the opposite side of the camp  from your source of water, be that a stream or a well. The water is  still most likely contaminated even without your latrines making it  worse. You need to make sure the water is cleaned before you let your  men drink it. The easiest way to do that is by letting the water boil  for several minutes. Boiling will kill most things in the water that can  make you sick. There are other precautions to take, but I will take  those up with your doctors. For now, keeping your latrines as far from  your drinking water and boiling the water before drinking it, are the  biggest changes you can make to keep your soldiers from getting sick as  often.”

“We will, of course, make the changes you request.”

“Also, make sure your men dig a deep enough pit for the latrines. The goal is to keep human waste away from your men.”

“Then we should also keep an eye on men shitting as they please when they don’t want to go to the latrine,” Carus said.

Both legates gave the centurion a look but then gave a nod in agreement.

“That is also true.”

“Good. Next, I’d like to talk to your medics.”

The  group moved away from the latrines and stream, towards the largest tent  in the camp. Opening the flap, the smell that hit Ky’s nose was  overwhelming, forcing the AI to lower his sensitivity to compensate. The  smell was distinctive, that of festering wounds and rotting flesh.

The  soldiers made faces, but otherwise did not have a comment about the  smell. This was, clearly, a fact of life for wounded soldiers.

Ky  stopped and talked to a man here or there as he went through the tent,  offering words of encouragement. He finally stopped at a sleeping man  who, even while unconscious, was sweating profusely. The man had a nasty  gash just above the knee, the skin around the wound already turning  black.

Several medics followed the procession, gathering close as Ky began to talk.

“This  is the second problem. I will say you have some things right here. You  sewed up the wounds then applied vinegar, turmeric, and honey. For now,  those are good options for fighting infection, but you are missing some  key steps. When you first treat someone with an open wound, there are  steps you need to take. The first thing you need to do is wash the area  using boiled water and a cloth that you’ve boiled for fifteen minutes.  As with the water for drinking, it’s important that this water has been  boiled for a goodly amount of time. Using rags from one man to another,  or using uncleaned water, will cause the wound to be infected.

One of the medics opened his mouth to say something and stopped as Velius held up a finger to silence him.

“Let him speak,” Ky said, overruling the legate.

“I  don’t understand. Why is boiling everything important? While there is  clear evidence that water must be drunk from free-flowing sources  instead of standing water, what does that have to do with cleaning the  outside? How does boiling a rag affect the patient’s humors?”

“Those  are all good questions, and in a few days, I will be calling together  as many surgeons and doctors as I can find to give a lecture on the  causes of disease. I will make sure any medics from the legions are  included. For now, I will say you need to takes these steps because,  while you have made some correct observation on the results, you are, in  many cases, wrong about the causes. Disease is not caused by an  imbalance of humors, by bad air, or by bad blood. Sickness is caused by  tiny living things, so small you can’t see them. You can pass these from  one patient to another, making the illness move. Soaps, boiling, and  fire can remove many of these, keeping the patient from being infected.”

“In  this man’s case, the blackening skin is actually dead or dying,  including the muscle underneath, as the infection eats away at it. If  the infection reaches his blood, it will travel to his organs, shutting  them down and killing him.”

“You’re saying if we do these things, we can cure him?”

“I  don’t know. By this point, the infection may be too far along for the  remedies we have available to help. I have plans to introduce more  sophisticated medicines that will be able to help even after infection  has set in, but that will take time. For now, the best course is to  prevent infection from setting in at all.”

“I’ve heard the men  tell about the things you can do, and the priests say the gods have sent  you with knowledge to raise our people back up. I find the steps you  suggest strange and have difficulty seeing how it can help, but if you  say they can, then I will believe you. I do look forward to hearing you  expand upon the topics, although I warn you many of the doctors in the  city will not be as accepting.”

“I understand I have an uphill  battle. Now, as I was saying, you need to wash the area with a cleaned  rag that you have boiled using clean water. To be clear, when I say  clean water, I mean water you have recently boiled. Before you go to  each patient, any medic needs to wash their hands using very hot water  and soap. Not hot enough that you injure yourself, but as hot as you can  stand. This shouldn’t be a pot everyone sticks their hands into.  Instead, have an aid slowly pour the hot water over your hands as you  scrub with soap and then rinse with the same hot water that was  previously boiled. Any instruments you use, including needles, should  also be boiled, and thread for binding wounds should be treated with  vinegar if it isn’t strong enough to stand up to boiling. Keeping  everything that touches a patient clean is key to keeping them from  becoming infected.”

“Once the wound is cleaned thoroughly and sewn  up, cover it with a cleaned bandage. The bandage should be changed with  newly cleaned bandages several times a day as the previous one becomes  soiled with discharge. Re-apply vinegar as you change bandages as well.  The wound should heal on its own as long as organs are not injured, and  the soldier should recover if there isn’t an infection.”

“There  are many more steps you can take, but for soldiers with this type of  injury, this basic aid can help save many of them. For the men who come  down with sickness, especially the flux, it is important that you give  them as much cleaned water, maybe with some honey mixed in, as possible.  The danger here is they do not keep enough fluid inside, causing the  organs to fail. Non-cleaned water makes the problem worse as does wine,  even watered wine.”

Ky walked among the soldiers, pointing out  small things that could be done by the medics to improve their chances  of survival. More complex topics, such as giving live blood  transfusions, surgical techniques, and vaccinations, would have to wait.  Some he would be able to do soon, while the more advanced methods would  require at least several years as he increased the technological base  of the Romans.

For now, what he instructed the medics in would  save many soldiers’ lives. Soldiers they would dearly need in the  spring. Before he left, he instructed the medics to talk to the men from  the other legions and spread the suggestions. Both legates made it  clear that this was not a suggestion and they expected the healers to  take Ky’s advice seriously.

Ky knew this was the easy first step.  He had immense goodwill from the legions, to the point where even the  medics were willing to accept his word ‘as is.' He had already seen how  some Romans dug their heels in and resisted new ideas. He had no doubt  that the doctors of this age would be just as bad, if not worse.

Ky  bid farewell to the legates and hoped with these changes as a start,  the legion should become healthier. He sent Durus ahead as he finished  with the legates to arrange the next meeting he had in front of him.

They  arrived back at the imperial stables, leaving one of the other men on  Strabo’s detail named Hesychius to take care of the horses while he and  his remaining two lictores went in search of Durus and the men he had  been sent to fetch.

Ky found him, unsurprisingly, in the buildings  used for the imperial treasure. Lurio was in a large room Strabo called  the Tabularium. The closest translation the AI could come up with was a  records room or archive, which seemed an apt description for the room  in which they were gathered. The walls were lined with shelves that  stretched to the ceiling, each stacked with scrolls and parchment, with  rows of shelves stretching across half the open floor space as well.  They were stacked multiple rows deep, and multiple rows high on each  shelf pushed into such a degree that they did not have a specific shape  anymore, making it impossible to determine how many records were  actually being stored.

“Volusius Lurio,” Ky said as the AI supplied his name and appropriate form of address. “I appreciate your meeting with me.”

“How could I refuse the Emperor’s new Consul. I am also intrigued by some of the things you mentioned yesterday.”

“We  should sit then, because what I said yesterday was only part of what I  have in mind. Strabo, could you find me something to write with?”

Lurio  extended his arm, directing Ky towards two low perpendicular couches.  Of the Roman seating, Ky by far preferred the stools used by the  military over the low couches designed for lounging that the upper  classes of Rome seemed to prefer.

Ky and Lurio lowered themselves  into the couches while Ky’s lictores placed themselves against the wall  nearby, out of the way, but near enough if they were needed.

“As I  said in the meeting, the way Rome currently handles taxes is going to  have to change. You won’t notice the changes that are going to happen in  your industry right away, but with the changes, we will be putting in  place, the bulk of Rome’s wealth will shift from owning land used for  farming to the production of finished goods. Right now what Rome  produces, while of good quality, is on par with many of its neighbors.  In a year you will find the cost of production will fall drastically  while, at the same time, Rome will begin to produce materials that  others cannot. Some of those we will hold to ourselves, but others we  will sell. In five years the money you make off of trade will far exceed  that produced by farms. Your taxes have to change to take that into  account.”

“We currently have taxes on imports, on produced goods, and on items sold. What would need to be done differently?”

“The  level will have to change. Right now, your most important tax is the  property assessment, and your least important tax is that on produced  goods and items sold. Those will have to change positions, as they will  grow while the value of land will fall as food becomes cheaper and  easier to produce.”

“We can do that, although I suggest we change the rates gradually as the economy changes shape.”

Strabo  returned at that moment, setting several pieces of parchment, a small  clay jar of ink and a stylus on the small table next to them.

“That’s  fine. The next has to do with how you track the businesses, and people,  in Rome. Right now, you do an excellent job of maintaining a census,  but you do little tracking of what money businesses actually make. That  is self-reported. If we change things, that will have to change as well.  I know tracking all of this is a daunting task, but I have one more  thing to show you that should help.

Ky pulled the parchment in front of himself, picking up the stylus and dipping it in the jar of ink.

“This,”  Ky said, writing out a number in Roman numerals, “is how you write the  number twelve thousand, two-hundred and fifty-one.”

He paused and  wrote out the same number using Arabic numerals. Across the top of the  page, he wrote out the numbers one through ten.

“This is how I  would write the same number. These characters stand-in for each of the  numbers starting with one and counting up to ten. When a number is  written out like this, each column is a ten’s place, with the furthest  right number being single digits and each column to the left going up by  a factor of ten. So the last two here, the character for five and the  character for one, by looking at them, I know that the second column is  the tens place, so this is fifty and the number to its right is one,  making it fifty-one.”

Lurio stared at the numbers for several  minutes, digesting what Ky had said. His eyes went from column to column  as he worked out the method.

“The system is interesting, and I  can see how this would be easier to write that column, but I fail to see  the benefit of changing to a new system. I will admit this is fairly  intuitive just looking at it, and wouldn’t be terribly hard to grasp,  but it would still take time to retrain all of my plebicani.”

“In  the long run, this new form of notation will allow your men to not only  record information faster but also work out figures faster. I will show  you ways this system can be used to do arithmetic much more quickly. If  we start conducting audits, and no longer allow factories to  self-report, the amount of data you are going to have to keep track of  will increase, doubly so once the industrial base starts increasing.  There will be some growing pains, yes, but I promise you once your  entrepreneurs see this system, they will grasp the benefits as well. Of  everything I show you, this will be the one new invention that will  spread the fastest.”

“Show me how arithmetic works using these symbols.”

Ky  spent the next several hours showing the ways Arabic numerals could be  used, and answering questions. The more he demonstrated the versatility  and ease of use of the characters, especially by having Lurio perform  the same functions first in Roman numerals and then using Arabic  numerals, the more of a believer the Roman became.

By the time the  sun had set he had made a convert to the new system. By his reaction,  Ky was certain his prediction would not be far off.

Governor’s Palace, Londinium

Maharbaal  paced across the floor of his audience chamber, his annoyance growing.  Three days had passed since Zaracas was expected to assault the Roman  capital. He should have heard word by now. From other generals he would  expect this type of delay, as sacks often became confusing messes, and  this was the Roman capital. When they had taken Londinium, the sack had  lasted for five full days, as the men took their reward for a hard  campaign.

Admittedly, the wealth in Devnum would not be as great  as the one taken in Londinium twenty-eight years ago, and nothing  compared to the month of pillage when Rome itself fell a hundred and  fifty years ago. They would not have had as much time to build up the  wealth of either of those cities, but the Romans were clever and fond of  amassing valuables.

Still, he expected more of Zaracas. In past  campaigns, the man had been meticulous and duty-bound. Sure, as a  tactician he tended to be to target fixated, seeing every problem as a  nail waiting to be driven home. His target fixation should not have been  a problem here, however. There was not much needed to defeat the small  gathering of troops left to defend the Roman capital.

He was about  to begin another round of pacing when the sound of hob-nailed boots  echoing off the corridor outside made him stop. Turning around,  Maharbaal watched as a filthy cavalry officer, a bandage on his neck,  limped into the large open chamber.

“My lord!” he said, going down on one knee, head bowed in supplication.

“You are from Zaracas’s army?”

“Yes, My lord! I was a section commander in Batrun’s detachment.”

“Why  are you so late with the report? Never mind; has Zaracas prepared to  march on the last two Roman towns. Has the Roman counter-attack from  their dispatched legions been repulsed yet?”

“My lord,” the man started to say and faltered. “We were defeated.”

Several  seconds passed before the information fully hit home. Maharbaal stared  at the man, dumbfounded. His normal response was pushed aside by the  sheer shock of the news.

“Defeated? How?”

“I … I don’t’  know, my lord. Two legions formed in the fields ahead of us, too late to  prevent our forces from deploying out of the woodland. One of the  legions came straight for us and was soundly defeated. Strangely, the  other legion held its position, even thinning out its line to cover the  ground previously held by both legions. The strategos moved the vanguard  of the army forward, leaving the cavalry behind as a reserve, in case  of more strange tactics. Suddenly, we were assaulted from the forest.  Thousands of men, a mixture of infantry and cavalry, were on top of us  before we could react. They were led forward by a demon. No weapons  could touch him, and he ran as fast as a horse.”

“A demon?!” Maharbaal roared.

His  anger returned, overwhelming him. Striding forward, the governor struck  out, smashing the back of a fist against the soldier’s head, sending  him sprawling onto the ground.

“More tales. More lies to cover up  cowardice and incompetence. You say a demon attacked you, and yet you  live. Our army was crushed by a puny force of refugees, and you come  home to tell the tale. Coward! Weakling!”

Maharbaal dropped on top  of the man, knees smashing into his chest, hands wrapping around his  throat. He continued hurling insulted as he choked the life from the  man. Eventually, Maharbaal realized he was throttling a corpse and  released his grip, pushing himself up.

“You,” he called to one of  the Acolytes of Hexitas standing near the door. “Round up your men,  scour the countryside for any more of these … things. Anyone who  returned from the battle alive I want questioned. I want to know how the  Romans defeated our army. Consider any survivors of the battle as  deserters and deal with them accordingly.”

The acolytes spun and left the room wordlessly.

“And get someone to come clean up this mess,” Maharbaal called after them.

The  governor returned to his chair, throwing himself into its cushions. He  was on the edge of a blade. Any report to the Great One must be made  with care. He would, of course, blame the failure on Zaracas, but that  did not guarantee that he would escape from this failure in one piece.  He needed the right angle to keep his head.

More importantly, he needed more men.