The Triumph of Venus - Chapter 34

North Africa

The army was a bustling whirl of chaos around Ky and the other commanders. As they had every night for weeks, they stood in the center of the madness, in the open air, going over the day’s events and confirming the next day’s plan, not that there was much variety in their agonizingly slow march west toward Carthage.

As with Italy, they had been harassed the entire way, except these attacks had been more spread out, in the way of ambushes, than attacks on small garrisons. In fact, there hadn’t been much in the way of anything to garrison on their entire trip. Every town, village, and settlement between their landing and Carthage had been burned to the ground by the time they arrived at it. Ky was surprised that the Carthaginians were willing to go in for such a scorched earth policy, a term that wouldn’t arrive in history for almost two thousand years, but that described a tactic as old as civilizations.

If they did win, it would take the Carthaginians generations to repair the damage they were doing to themselves, not that Ky planned on letting that outcome get anywhere close to happening.

Worse than Italy, the attacks never let up, with small groups harassing the fortified works each day. Just to dig in, he had to surround the temporary works with three full cohorts, to keep the nomads that had been shadowing them far enough away to let the work progress. By the time they did reach the enemy, he was a little concerned the men might be too tired to actually fight.

“...another burned-out settlement, their wells spiked with salt and sulfur.”

“We still have enough supplies from the ships, right?” Ky asked.

“Yes, Consul,” Dexippus said. “Although our initial plan assumed we would be able to get some basic supplies from the locals. Having to keep completely supplied off the fleet is starting to severely tax the fleet’s capabilities. I’m told they had to pull fleets from Kalb to have enough boats to ferry the needed supplies.”

“Fine, whatever they have to do. We’re too close now, we can’t allow this campaign to fail for lack of water.”

“Yes, Consul.”

“We have other news,” Bomilcar said. “The scouts reported in just as we made a stop for the night. The Carthaginians have finally begun to move out of their city to meet us.”

“I wondered how long that would take them. With their number superiority, allowing themselves to be hemmed up behind walls with tens of thousands of mouths to feed would be suicide.”

“I think they were just buying as much time as possible to rally troops, which explains the harassing attacks. And it seems to have worked. The enemy greatly outnumbers us. This might be the largest army we’ve ever faced. Our men couldn’t get a good look at their force composition, but from rumors they’ve been able to pick up from refugees fleeing the burned-out cities, I’m told it is made of a very large number of new recruits, many of whom will be fighting with swords at their back.”

“That might actually work in their favor. The Carthaginians will certainly use them as human shields in front of their better-trained units, to absorb our bullets until they can get to melee range with us, after which it’s all over.”

“That was my thought. Still, it means while they may have a hundred thousand men to our ten thousand, two-thirds of those will be minimally effective once they close,” Bomilcar said.

“Which only leaves us thirty thousand trained soldiers to fight hand-to-hand three-to-one.”

“That about sums it up.”

“There’s more, actually,” Viridius, the seventy-fifth cohort tribune said. “I know the Legate didn’t want to bring up details not confirmed, but ... I thought this important.”

The look Bomilcar gave Viridius as he spoke suggested the two would be having a lengthy conversation later, but Ky wasn’t one for shutting down subordinates.

“Do tell,” Ky said.

“Some of the refugees coming east from Carthage say they are running from conscription gangs, who are pulling every able-bodied man on the street into their armies.”

“Which explains the size of their force,” Ky said, not sure why Bomilcar had an issue with something that seemed so obvious. “I’m not sure that’s particularly news.”

“No, I mention it just to say these people come from the capital itself. They also told us that it had been announced that the emperor himself was going to lead this army.”

“Really?” Ky said, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

If the Carthaginian emperor was willing to lead this army, it would change things significantly. Carthaginian society was an absolute monarchy in the most brutal of terms. Civilizations like that did not usually hold up well to even the most prepared leadership change, let alone a sudden one in the middle of a war. Should he fall, it could cause the rest of Carthage to fall with him.

“We don’t know how accurate that information is,” Bomilcar said, giving another glance to Viridius.

“I understand, and it doesn’t change our plans one way or another. We’re going to have to face them if we want to bring this to an end, and whether in Carthage itself or at the head of an army. This doesn’t end until he does. Which leads us to the obvious question, what do we know now that we know what we’re facing?”

“There are really only two options, right?” Brangh, the Ulaid tribune in command of the 4th Cohort, said. “We either fortify and let them come to us, or we attack them in the field.”

“If we meet them in the field,” Bomilcar said, “we risk being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. The Carthaginians may be willing to sacrifice their conscripts to secure victory. Our rifles and cannons can only do so much against a tide of bodies. If they are willing to accept the casualties, I’m not sure we can stop them.”

“Wouldn’t the same be true if we built up fortifications?” Dexippus asked. “Anything we could build would be hasty at best. There are no settlements we could build up, so we’d only have the supplies we’ve been fortifying with every night, much of which is starting to see significant wear. I’m not sure it would stand up to a sustained attack. Even if it does, they also have well more than enough men to surround us. We’ve been almost completely supplied by our fleet, which we would be cut off from. They could just sit out there and wait until we all die of thirst. It would be a death sentence.”

“We could do both,” Viridius suggested. “Fortify our position here, or wherever, as best we can and then send out smaller units to harass the enemy, disrupt their supply lines, whatever.”

“No. That would be the worst opinion we could choose,” Bomilcar said. “We would do little damage to them and would lose men on every outing. When we do end up behind our fortifications, we would be in the same place as Dexippus just described.”

“Okay,” Ky said, ending the conversation. “I think our options are clear. There’s nothing for us to fall back on out here, and if we try to fortify, we’ll just be surrounded. With their cannon, that could be fatal. At least in open battle, we’ll have room to maneuver. We should reach the enemy army in a few days. Prepare your units. Make sure if you need additional supplies, ammunition, gunpowder, whatever, you request it now so we can get it from the supply ships. I should have a more detailed breakdown of our battle strategy and your assignments before we make contact.”

The meeting broke up, and the commanders headed off to their various duties, leaving Ky standing alone in the middle of the camp. His tent almost set up, so he’d turned to head toward it when he saw a figure moving through the bustling activity towards him. When she broke through the crowd of soldiers and he saw who it was, Ky stopped dead in his tracks, shocked.

Lucilla had acquired a small crowd following her as she made her way through the camp, soldiers dropping what they were doing to find out why their Empress had suddenly appeared in their midst.

“Lucilla,” Ky said, grabbing her by the elbows and stopping her as she ran up to him and started to throw her arms around him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to support our legions in this final push against the enemy.”

Ky looked past her, glaring at the men gathering around, watching them, all of whom seemed to collectively realize they had work to do at the same moment. As they started to disperse back across the camp, Ky took Lucilla by the elbow and led her a little away, to the emptiest spot he could find.

They weren’t alone, but it was as good as he was going to get in a bustling military encampment.

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous no matter where I go. If the legions fall now, Carthage will be on Britannia’s shores within a year. It would be the end of me and the empire either way. At least now, the men know their empress stands with them.”

“Battle is a chaotic place, Lucilla. We could win, but a stray bullet or arrow or even a wrong step could cause us to lose you. The empire couldn’t survive that. I couldn’t.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been in the field with the legions, Ky. And now, at the end of it, I have to be here. These people are fighting for me. For my family. I will not let them do it alone.”

“Why didn’t you even tell me you were coming.”

“Because I knew how you would react exactly like this. I’m pretty sure, had you known I was coming, you would have sent half the ships in the fleet to intercept me, tie me up, and cart me back to Devnum under guard.”

Ky was considering doing exactly that, except he knew as much as his men were loyal to him, they loved their empress more. All she had to do was counter his command, and they would cheer as they untied her.

“Sophus should have…”

“I told Sophus to keep its mouth shut, and if it did say anything, I would take this thing out of my ear and crush it.”

“She left me little choice, Commander,” Sophus’s voice rang out.

Ky didn’t blame the AI. It had been showing more and more attachment-like behavior, and he knew it also had a special preference for Lucilla. It seemed everyone in his life loved her the most. Not that he blamed them, as he felt the same himself.

“I don’t like this, Lucilla. The battlefield is no place for an empress.”

“The battlefield is wherever I need to be,” Lucilla said. She stepped closer, placing a hand on Ky’s chest. “I’m not some delicate flower, Ky. I’m the Empress of Britannia. If my empire is at war, then so am I.”

Ky covered her hand with his own, feeling the warmth of her skin. He knew her. The most stubborn woman in the world. Once she made her mind up, there was no arguing with her.

“Very well, you can stay. But, you will remain in the rear, with the reserve cohorts. I will not have you on the front lines.”

“Of course,” Lucilla said. “I’m here to inspire the men, not lead a charge. It’s your legion, you’re in charge.”

“We both know that isn’t true,” Ky said, putting his hands on his hips.

“Maybe,” she said, stepping close to him on her tiptoes, and kissing him.

He returned the kiss with vigor. In spite of how angry she made him, putting herself in danger like this, he was happy to see her.

***

East of Giza, Egypt

In spite of it still being early fall, the sun still beat mercilessly down on Aelius and his men, who stood in well-lined rows, facing the desert expanse stretching before them. He was proud of them. Even with the heat and dry air, they had maintained good discipline all morning.

That was all the more impressive as most of that morning had been spent watching the approaching cloud of dust close on them, heralding the approach of the Carthaginian army. From his scouts, their force was at least four times the size of his whole legion, and eight times the force he had with him at the moment.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t prepare defensive works?” Hirrus, his second in command, asked, watching the enemy force continue to grow in size as it closed, stretching endlessly in either direction.

“I am, but make sure the men are prepared to move. Any units that stop or slow down are going to get swamped.”

“Yes, legate,” Hirrus said, giving one last look to the wall of Carthaginians before turning to relay the orders to the signalman.

Minutes ticked by as the enemy closed. Aelius could feel the tension in his men as the seemingly endless wave of enemy soldiers. Of course, it wasn’t endless. They had faced larger armies than this several times, but rarely with so few men on their side.

“Steady, men,” Aelius called out as the enemy passed an imaginary line Aelius had placed on the battlefield. “Rifles at the ready.”

His timing was good. Almost as soon as the order was given, the Carthaginian cavalry on either flank began to surge forward, closing ground with frightening speed.

“Focus fire on the cavalry!” Aelius ordered. “Volley fire... now!”

A thunderous crack split the air as hundreds of rifles discharged in unison. Smoke billowed from the line as the deadly hail of lead tore into the Carthaginian cavalry. Horses and men tumbled, the charge faltering under the withering fire.

“Reload!” Hirrus bellowed. “Second rank, ready!”

The front rank knelt, ramrods clattering as they reloaded. The second rank stepped forward, leveling their rifles.

“Fire!”

Another volley erupted, the close range devastating the Carthaginian horsemen. The charge crumbled, horses veering away or collapsing in the sand. Not all of them, however. Some made it through the barrage, closing the last span between them and his men.

His officers were diligent in their duty. Before he could utter another command, bayonet-tipped rifles sprang up along the threatened section of the line just as the enemy horses slammed into them. Ben screamed, metal clashed, and a few rifles discharged in the melee, but his men stood firm, a bristling hedge of steel driving back the remnants of the charge.

About half the cavalry that had made the initial charge returned to their lines while the enemy infantry continued to march unstoppably forward, having hardly been touched by his initial volleys, which had been almost completely aimed at the cavalry.

“Begin falling back,” Aelius commanded. “By cohorts, leapfrogging. Twelfth and Twenty-Second, withdraw. Twenty-Third, Fifty-Fourth, and Nineteenth, cover them. Maintain volley fire from the covering cohorts.”

Seeing the Britannians starting to withdraw, the Carthaginian phalanxes surged forward, only to be met with a hail of bullets from the three covering cohorts, which sent them reeling back.

For hours, they repeated the pattern, each cohort taking its turn to fire and fall back. Both armies were tired, Aelius knew that much. His scouts had tracked the Carthaginians’ march for days, and they’d started out early in the morning and marched through the desert sun for four hours before making contact. Now they’d spent hours more in a brutal advance, leaving a string of bodies in their wake as hundreds fell with each charge.

It was a series of engagements and disengagements rather than one long, prolonged battle. Aelius held his men’s fire, waiting until the enemy caught up and tried to surge forward again, in order to conserve ammunition. The Pyramids, which had never been fully out of sight, now loomed high overhead as the light started to dim, alerting them to the last few hours of the day.

If Aelius had been in charge of the other side, he would have broken off long ago. They had lost almost a third of their entire number, maybe fifteen thousand men, a butcher’s bill that was beyond compare. Especially when considering that Aelius had lost under two hundred, mostly to the handful of cavalry charges that had enough momentum to at least make contact before scattering. That had been early in the engagement, their commander allowing his cavalry to be whittled down until it didn’t exist anymore, for all practical purposes.

He could only guess that the Britannians’ continued retreat gave them hope that each time, they were on the verge of breaking. Or maybe just that all they had to do was catch up and they would crush the Britannians. Either way, Aelius was happy to let them continue. The worst thing that could happen, from his point of view, was that the enemy decided to disengage and come at him at a different time or from a different direction.

It wasn’t until his men passed the pyramids themselves and split to either side of a long line of men, with prepared positions of stone, wood, and dug trenches designed to slow and break up enemy attacks, with one of the consul’s ‘hot air balloons’, it’s long trailing cable going to the rear of his formation, that the enemy seemed to waver for a moment, realize that they might have fallen into a trap themselves.

Along the line of fresh cohorts were lines of artillery, which opened up as soon as the Carthaginians, who funneled in between the pyramids, made their appearance. The weight of cannon and rifle fire smashed into the enemy, entire formations disintegrating in an instant. 

For a moment, the Carthaginians wavered, and Aelius thought, again, they might do the smart thing and withdraw. Now, not only were they outgunned, but they were in the worst possible position for that. Thankfully, from his point of view, they still had not learned enough about fighting a force with superior technology. Worse, this army had spent the entire war, so far, in Persia and had not really experienced this kind of warfare before. They’d clearly been prepared for it, since they didn’t run at the first crack of a rifle, but they didn’t really understand it.

So they did what every Carthaginian army had been trained to do. They charged and tried to steamroll over their opponent, relying on weight of number and willingness to spend lives with abandon.

And it was working, after a fashion. The death toll was gruesome, but they were closing ground, step after brutal step.

“Legate, the enemy is getting close. Should we prepare to withdraw?” Hirrus asked, casting a worried look at the ever-closing distance between them.

Hirrus was a good man, but he tended to the cautious side of things. It was true that, as good as their weapons were, once those phalanxes got into melee, his men would fare badly. But this was the plan, and it was going to work. If they withdrew, it would all fall apart. The enemy was so close to complete destruction, and they didn’t even know it. According ot the reports coming down the telegraph wire from the balloon soaring above them, they were exactly where they needed to be.

“No. Hold steady. Just a little longer.”

“But, Legate...”

“I said hold.” Aelius’s tone firm. “They’re right where we want them. We will not give it up now.”

Aelius watched them closely. Closer and closer. They were now in arrow range, and his men were starting to fall. Not a lot, at least in comparison, but he was taking losses. His men held strong.

“Steady,” he called out as one century near the front looked to waver, seeing the wall of men coming toward them. “Pour it on, boys. Keep the fire up. Get ready.”

The enemy was now close enough; they were pushing into a massed, all-out charge. The tide stemmed for a moment, as canister shot shredded row after row of men, but it did not let up. They could see their tormentors, the people that had been killing their friends with abandon for hours, now within arm’s reach.

Still, Aelius waited. Held his men firm.

“Brace,” he yelled as the enemy closed the last gap, their spears slamming into his men.

The front rank had shields up, but this was a different style of battle than legion against phalanx. His front rank buckled as men fell, some taking up the fallen shields, others stabbing furiously back with bayonets or pushing spears out of the way with rifle butts. If this went on for very long, his lines would buckle and rout.

Thankfully, that had never been the plan.

Aelius barked an order which sent a large red banner trailing up the cable that led to the balloon floating over his forces, allowing its brightly dyed fabric to be seen far and wide. For a moment, Aelius wondered if the Carthaginians had any idea what that large strip of cloth meant.

They didn’t need to wait long. As soon as the signal crested above the line of Britannians and made its way skyward, thousands of Egyptians, armed with swords, muskets, and an assortment of other weapons, swarmed out from the ancient pyramids and surrounding buildings like a vengeful tide. They slammed into the Carthaginian flanks, catching them completely off guard. The enemy had been so focused on their target they hadn’t even looked to the phalanxes. So focused on the Britannians ahead, the phalanxes had no defense against this sudden onslaught.

“By the gods,” Hirrus breathed, his eyes wide with astonishment.

He wasn’t wrong. They had set the plan up, knew it was coming, but seeing it in practice, it was still astonishing. It was like ants swarming a wounded animal, devouring it.

The Carthaginian formation began to crumble under the relentless Egyptian assault. Men screamed as they were cut down, their blood staining the sand. The once orderly phalanxes disintegrated into a chaotic melee of clashing swords and desperate struggles.

His men slowed their fire, taking aimed shots now instead of massed volleys, to avoid hitting their new allies. Except for the ranks already engaged with his men, the Carthaginians didn’t seem worried about the Britannians anymore. Without the rest of the phalanx at their back, pushing them, the lead elements that had made contact with his men fell quickly. Fueled by years of oppression and hatred, the Egyptians tore into the Carthaginians with a savagery he had rarely witnessed. It was as if the very desert had come alive to exact its vengeance.

The enemy was crumbling. All they needed was a push, and they would fall apart. Aelius was all too happy to give them that push.

Raising his sword arm, Aelius bellowed, “Charge!”