The Triumph of Venus - Chapter 26

Arandur, Central Hispania

Cormac rode at the head of his makeshift army comprised of one century of Britannian legionnaires and five hundred warriors from across Hispania, a mixture of all the various tribes making up the new Hispanic Alliance. While he probably would have had an easier time if the force had been more homogenous, as the first battle of the alliance, Cormac wanted every member to have skin in the game.

It was also less than he could have gotten if he’d pushed, but there were other needs for Hispanic warriors now, and Cormac was fairly certain he could make this happen with six hundred men, all armed with firearms. Especially since his one hundred were highly trained and coordinated, armed with rifles, and were bringing two field pieces with them, giving the force a significant firepower advantage. Besides, the Arandur might have been a large tribe, but they would have trouble fielding an equal-sized force.

Cresting a ridge, he saw the sprawling village spread out before him. It was no surprise they managed such prosperity. The village was situated in a valley between two chains of hills, with a river flowing down the center, creating a particularly fertile valley. Defensively, it allowed them to be hemmed in, as forces could ride down on the from the east or west, but economically, it was excellent.

“Split our allies in half, and have them surround the village, but hold until they hear our guns fire, unless they’re directly attacked,” Cormac told Llassar. “Make sure they understand it’s imperative that they not go charging in until we all do. I’m sending in negotiators, and I do not want them getting our men killed.”

“You’re not going in with the negotiators,” Llassar said, more as a command than a statement.

“While I’d like to, no, I’m not. Even I know that would be foolhardy.”

“Why send anyone? They made their position very clear. You don’t think they’ll suddenly see wisdom now, with us at the edge of their homes with an army?”

“No, I don’t think they’ll see wisdom, but I want to give them that chance. Or rather, I want the rest of the Hispanians to see me giving them that chance. This is as much about convincing the other tribes we aren’t like the Carthaginians as it is teaching the Arandur a lesson.”

Llassar looked at Cormac, appraising him, before saying, “You really have made progress. You know that?”

“I’m a slow learner sometimes, but I am trying,” Cormac said, and then smiled. “Or at least I am trying now.”

“Maybe you did need to get out in the field after all,” Llassar said, still with the appraising look, before turning his horse and riding off to deliver the messages.

“Cian,” Cormac called to the decanus, one of the few Ulaid in this contingent. “Pick four men and ride to the edge of town under a flag of truce. Offer their leaders the chance to surrender and talk terms, before this turns deadly and threatens their civilians.”

Cian nodded and a few minutes later Cormac watched as the decanus and four men, unarmed, one waving a white flag high over their heads, made their way down the hillside toward the village.

As they neared the edge of the village, a group of maybe fifteen Arandur warriors appeared from between the buildings, all cradling muskets or swords, held at the ready but not raised, moved to intercept the negotiators before they entered the village itself.

Things went downhill from there. Even from this distance, he could see the tense body language and animated gesturing as the two groups conversed. It was clear the discussion was not going well. Silently, Cormac tried to tell Cian to end things and come back, not that the decanus could hear him. There was nothing to be gained from extending the conversation, not with how defensive the Arandur were being, and could only work to provoke them further.

Suddenly, without warning, the Arandur warriors raised their muskets and opened fire on the unarmed Britannian delegation. Cormac stared in horror as three of his men were struck down in an instant. The remaining two men turned and sprinted back toward the Britannian lines in a desperate attempt to escape. Neither was Cian, who’d gone down in the first cowardly blast.

One of the two fleeing men was struck in the back as he ran, but the other had better luck, making it to the hill and up the side, the Arandur rounds going wide, kicking up dust all around him, until he was outside of their shorter range.

Rage boiled up inside Cormac. He knew the Arandur were honorless, but Cormac never imagined they’d stoop so low as to kill men under a flag of truth.

“Put fire on those men,” Cormac commanded the two cannon already set up on the hill, overlooking the enemy. “Send word to our allies to begin encircling the village and move in from all directions but the west. Centurion, give them a volley and and move forward. You are permitted to open fire on any armed man, but avoid civilian casualties as you can.”

Commands began to snap out, with the first shots from the cannon smashing into the group of offending Arandur warriors as soon as the survivor made it to the bottom of the hillside, a crash of Britannian rifles following thirty seconds later. Before the smoke form the volley even cleared, the century began it’s move through it, guns at the ready, marching with good separation between the lines. The sound of gunfire was all his allies had been waiting for. As soon as the cannon fired, his Hispanian allies let loose a battle cry Cormac could hear from where he was, followed by a charge into the village from the North, South and West.

Cormac rode behind them, closer than Llassar would have liked. He might not go out front, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to lead them. The Arandur were playing it smart, retreating back into their village as the assault began, refusing an open field battle and taking away the advantage that firearms gave.

He could already hear fire opening up on the other edges of the village as his men made their way into the cramped streets, breaking into squad-sized units, using the gaps between huts and cross-streets to keep in parallel, so none of the units got too far ahead and cut off.

His men moved from hut to hut, leading with their bayonet-fixed rifles, checking one building at a time. A musket cracked from a few feet away as an Arandur warrior leapt out of the hut he’d been using for cover and fired at Cormac, whose position atop his horse made him a target. Thankfully, the muskets had a lot less accuracy than rifles, especially when a man was running, and the round went wide. The attacker did not fare as well, rounds from three rifles striking him simultaneously, spinning the man like a top before he crashed to the ground.

“Get off your damn horse,” Llassar said, standing next to the animal.

Cormac didn’t have to be told twice, sliding off it and handing the reins to one of the men, directing him to take the animal out of the village, lest it become a hazard.

Cormac ducked behind the side of a hut as musket balls whizzed past, chipping off splinters of wood. Around him, his men exchanged fire with Arandur warriors using the maze-like alleys and huts for cover. The crack and boom of gunfire was nearly continuous now, with occasional shouts and screams rising above the din.

As Cormac peered around the edge, an Arandur warrior, who somehow remained hidden as the men in front of him passed, leapt out, swinging a sword. Cormac pivoted on his heel, narrowly avoiding the blade as it thunked into the hut, and smashed the man across the face with the stock of his rifle, wrenching the sword out of his grasp as the man fell.

“Forward!” Cormac yelled, waving the men on.

They stormed down the alley. Three Arandur warriors rose from behind a stack of barrels, but Cormac and his men cut them down in a withering hail of lead before they could fire their muskets.

They pressed on, the alley opening up into a small courtyard. An Arandur woman cowered by a well, clutching two young children. Cormac raised his hand for his men to hold position.

“Get them inside, keep them safe,” Cormac said in a halting version of the local dialect.

She hesitated for a moment, and then hurried the children into a hut.

They were nearing the village center now. Cormac could see the large communal building looming ahead, likely where the Arandur leaders were holed up. He was hoping to end this quickly, but the warriors were putting up a fiercer resistance than expected. The center of the village was large enough that muskets wouldn’t be that big of a danger until they crossed through the line of huts. His rifles were another problem entirely, however.

“Watch your fire,” Cormac commanded. “Our allies are coming from each direction, and a stray round can hit them. Aim low and focus on the baronet.”

As he took a step forward, a crackle of gunfire erupted from the upper floor of a two-story building ahead. His men scrambled for cover as balls smacked into the ground at their feet. Cormac pressed himself against the wall of a hut, finding himself across the street, underneath the attackers, from his men. They were pinned down, unable to advance into the withering fire.

Cormac turned to the men nearest him. “Provide covering fire on my order. I’m going around back.”

He could see the look Llassar gave him, but he was across the alley, and the mixture of musket and crossbow fire was enough to keep anyone from crossing over.

Leaning his rifle, which wouldn’t help much in these moments, against the building, he slipped down a side alley, looping behind the building, pulling his sword from its scabbard. Taking a deep breath, he kicked it in and charged inside. None were downstairs and the crash of rifles and muskets covered the sound of the door crashing in. Cormac crept up the stairs, keeping low, and peering around the door. Three Arandur warriors were inside. One was firing down, handing the spent musket off to one of the men behind him, who rapidly reloaded it. Clever, and an explanation of how they managed to maintain such an impressive rate of fire.

Steeling himself, Cormac rushed into the room, his sword skewering one of the warriors without warning, the man’s face twisting into surprise before Cormac pushed him off the blade, sending the man crashing to the ground. The other loader saw Cormac instantly, starting to open his mouth to shout when Cormac brought the butt of his sword up, smashing into his face, sending teeth flying, before stabbing out again, catching the shooter in the side, his musket going off, blasting into a side wall.

The man dropped, wounded, but not dead, which Cormac shortly corrected for, stabbing him through again. The other man was groping for a weapon, his hands on his face, which was leaking profuse amounts of blood. Cormac dispatched him on his way back out of the room, slashing his sword across the man’s neck.

“I’m coming out,” Cormac shouted, just in case his men got jumpy and tried to shoot him.

Cormac emerged from the building, peaking out and making sure Llassar had a hand on things.

“That was amazingly stupid,” the Caledonian said as Cormac retrieved his rifle and the men started forward again.

“We didn’t have time for something more complex,” Cormac said.

Llassar glared at him, but said nothing else. Across the village square, he could see the Hispanians beginning to emerge from between the buildings as well, having fought their way through from the other sides. The crackle of musketry was already beginning to taper off as Arandur resistance crumbled in the face of the coordinated assault.

Wiping the blood from his blade, Cormac stepped out into the open area, motioning for his men to advance with him towards the large communal building at the far side. As they moved forward, checking the alleyways and buildings on either side, a figure appeared from the doors of the communal hall. He was an older man, with a commanding presence despite his age, flanked by two younger warriors. The man raised his hands over his head while the warriors hastily discarded their weapons.

Cormac didn’t know the Arandur leader, who always sent his minions anywhere they were summoned, but it was fairly certain that was who the man was, all the same. Cormac raised his fist, bringing the century to a halt a dozen paces from the trio. Hispanians filtered in from the side streets, encircling them with leveled muskets and swords.

“Tell your men to lay down your weapons and surrender, or you will all die here today,” Cormac said.

“So be it,” the man said, waving at his two warriors, who threw their weapons to the ground.

Commands were shouted out, and a handful of men came out of their hiding spots, hands in the air. There were losses, but he’d shown his allies that Britannia was true to its word, and defeated the biggest problem on the peninsula. Or at least the biggest currently.

This would certainly not end the conflict among the tribes, but it would go a long way towards it.

***

Rome, Italia

Ky folded his arms across his chest as he watched squads of legionnaires rushing in every direction. He’d arrived in the city two days ago, and since then it had been one crisis after another. Today was looking to be no different, with a thick plume of black smoke rising up from the direction of the south wall, the flickering orange glow of fire visible even in the daylight.

“The situation is deteriorating rapidly,” Ky said. “We need to stabilize the city before it descends into complete chaos.”

“We are trying, Consul,” Bomilcar said. “As far as we can tell, there are no Carthaginians left in the city, and most of this seems almost spontaneous, not directed by one person or group. Some is people upset that we’re here at all, but a lot of it are those trying to use the chaos, or even enhance it, to make gains for themselves. I’ve seen this in conquered cities before, but not this bad.”

“We can’t resort to the same tactics,” Ky said, feeling the argument they’d had the day he’d arrived rising up again.

“I’m not suggesting it. I only said that the way we dealt with it back then was to use a much harsher version of martial law.”

“I understand that, but we don’t want people in rebellion in fifty years, which is what that kind of attitude achieves,” Ky said, turning and walking back into the headquarters building of the former Carthaginians barracks at the center of the city.

“I agree. But it is going to make dealing with this much harder.”

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Ky said, turning to face Bomilcar. “Every day we spend dealing with these insurrections is another day Carthage has to prepare for our arrival. We’ve been stalled here for weeks, and things aren’t improving.”

“I understand your frustration, Consul, but we cannot leave Rome in this state. If we do, it will only get worse, and we’ll have to come back and deal with it later. We need to stabilize the city before we can move on.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“We hold here for now. We secure Rome, build up our forces, and wait for reinforcements. This might be as far as we go this year. We’ve all seen this eventuality coming for months, I think it might be time to accept it.”

Ky knew that Lucilla was in Germania, working to secure additional men, but he couldn’t say anything that until those men, who she hadn’t actually gotten to agree to the deal, actually arrived. Even then, it seemed unlikely that Germania alone could provide enough manpower to turn the tide.

Before Ky could respond, a messenger burst into the room behind them, “Consul, there’s a large number of men approaching the north gate. Thousands, by the look of it.”

“Carthaginians?” Ky said, exchanging a concerned glance with Bomilcar.

“No sir. There are Praetorians at the head of the column.”

Ky, Bomilcar, and Ky’s lictor rushed through the streets, sometimes having to stop while Legionnaires, dealing with a dispute or disruption, cleared space for them to get by.

As they approached the north gate, still under reconstruction after the battle, Ky could see a large crowd gathered around it. Again, they had to wait for his men to clear a path, but once they did, he saw that the messenger had been right; the men at the head of the column wore the distinctive armor of the Praetorian Guard. The other thing that caught Ky’s attention as the rows of men began to march into the city was the diverse array of clothing and equipment worn by the men behind them.

There were probably a hundred Praetorians at the front, marching in neat rows. The men who came after were in a very loose formation. Rabble would probably be a closer word. Had they not all been together, coming in behind the Praetorians, Ky might have thought they were some large pilgrimage or merchant caravan, the way they all craned their necks around, looking at the city like tourists.

As he watched them, Sophus began matching the clothing with those of groups they’d dealt with previously, identifying the fur and leathers common to Scandian traders and the more colorful woven fabrics found in Hispania. He could also see those he recognized more easily: men from Ulaid and Caledonia.

A truly strange collection of men, all carrying an assortment of weapons.

One of the Praetorians near the front of the line made eye contact with Ky and veered off from the rest, stopping a few paces in front of Bomilcar and himself before snapping off a crisp salute.

“Consul. I bring word from the Regent, who has sent these men to assist with securing the rear lines and maintain order. I apologize for not passing on additional notice, but the telegraph lines between here and Daramouda seemed to be down each time we checked.”

“Yes, we’ve been having problems with that,” Ky said. “Medb sent these men? I wasn’t aware she was tasked with putting together additional manpower.”

He knew Lucilla had left the former queen in charge, although the title of regent hadn’t been mentioned until now, making Ky wonder if it was self-appointed. He also knew Lucilla had only left her to manage the day-to-day operations on Britannia itself. Unless Lucilla was keeping secrets from him, this was wildly outside Medb’s mandate.

“She sent this message, to better explain the situation,” the Praetorian said, handing over a sealed note.

Ky opened the note, feeling Bomilcar’s eyes on him as he read it. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he read, and he looked up at Bomilcar with a nod.

“This is very surprising. It seems Medb saw the collection of men starting to arrive in Britannia from our various allies and took the initiative to send what they had available right away, instead of waiting for all of them to arrive at once.”

“I didn’t get a chance to know her, but from the stories I’ve heard, I am surprised to find her involved. And I certainly wouldn’t have expected her to be so proactive.”

“Neither would I,” Ky admitted. “It seems the Praetorians were her idea. She discussed the situation with Faenius and realized the need for people trained in garrison and peace enforcement duties, something most of these warriors wouldn’t be versed in. She convinced him to send along a group of his men to act as leaders or advisors.”

“Commander Faenius asked me to relay that he will send another hundred with the next batch, but that will be all he can spare for the time being,” the Praetorian said.

“I see,” Ky’s aid, before going back to reading. “It certainly looks like Lucilla’s efforts to get more assistance are paying off. Medb says that, although she hasn’t heard from the Empress by the time of sending this letter, she expects these three thousand men to be the first of what looks to be between ten and fifteen thousand men to help with rear security.”

“That many?” Bomilcar said, his eyes widening. “That is much more than I would have expected.”

“I know,” Ky said. “Although it’s not all sunshine and flowers. Medb warns that all of the agreements have the empire having these men available only until mid-winter, when they need to return home, and are only to be used for rear duty.”

“That’s fine,” Bomilcar said. “They’ll still free up enough men to allow the attack on Carthage to continue this year, as you wanted. It changes everything.”

“It certainly does,” Ky said. “I’ll have to send a message to Medb congratulating her on her initiative. Bomilcar, send word for Marcus to get down here, then see to the distribution of these men as needed until he arrives and can take over. I want as many legionnaire units in the field replaced as possible, regrouping them and preparing to move south and on to Sicilia. Deal with it as you see fit, but I think we should focus first on your legion, then Aelius’s, then Auspex legions. I want to leave Marcus here to maintain security over Italy, with half his cohorts split between the other three legions. I appreciate the Praetorians and they will be a big help, but we need a centralized command if we’re going to keep our rear in check, and Marcus has proven he can lead men for just this kind of assignment.

“I agree. I’ll see to the men. If we start with the units here, I should be able to begin the push south in the next day or two.”

“Excellent,” Ky said. “Excellent.”