The Triumph of Venus - Chapter 24

Devnum

Medb sat in the empress’s richly appointed office, her feet up on the empress’s ornately carved desk, and looked out the large window with its views of the city, instead of at the stack of papers on her desk.

Since Lucilla’s departure and her installment as the temporary administrator of the empire, she finally had a taste of what it was like to rule again. She was enjoying some of the benefits that came with sitting on the throne, especially the deference she was paid now that she was making decisions again. It’s what she’d been working toward ever since her kingdom fell and she’d been shipped off to this place.

Now that she had it, though, she found the experience something of a mix. On the plus side, Rome knew how to treat their nobility. She knew her kingdom wasn’t on this level, especially after arriving and finding her accommodations here, from the art to the amenities, as more or less a prisoner, were actually better than they had been in her own kingdom when she was a queen. They were even better now, as she sat in Lucilla’s place. Everything was of the highest quality, comfortable and luxurious. She doubted she’d ever get her kingdom back, but if she did, it would almost certainly be a step down from this.

If that was all there was, she would have thoroughly enjoyed her time as the empress’s stand-in. Unfortunately, she also had the empress’s workload, which was leaps and bounds above anything she’d ever had to deal with as queen in her own right, even at the height of the war. For one, the Romans had more bureaucracy than she’d ever experienced. While it made sense, considering how much more expansive their holdings and interests were, it was also incredibly difficult to keep on top of. Even with a large bureaucracy to handle the day-to-day aspects of everything, just keeping abreast of it all took from sun up to sundown.

Paperwork wasn’t a thing in her kingdom, mostly because they’d never heard of paper. All of their writing was either on very expensive parchment or carved wood and dried tablets, none of which were cheap enough and convenient enough for storing anything but the most important information. Several times she’d actually considered that to be a good thing, since the Romans seemed to generate paper by the cartload and had adjusted to its use extremely well. Every day, stacks of it with reports and information from across the empire made their way into her office, threatening to drown her.

She could see its usefulness, as she knew more of what was happening not just in Britannia, but across the continent, than she’d known of her small kingdom. It was also tedious and mind-numbing. If this is what it meant to be Empress, she wasn’t sure she wanted it. Better to leave it to someone else and find a way to get the benefits without all the work.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a legionnaire knocked on her door. When she’d first taken over, they’d had a bad habit of following their knock with just opening the door and letting whoever was there in. She’d quickly broken them of that habit.

“Enter,” she commanded, pulling her feet off the desk and sitting upright.

The door opened and the old inventor Hortensius shuffled in, looking disheveled as always.

“Hortensius, finally,” she said drily, setting down the papers she’d very much not been reading.

“My apologies for the delay, my lady. I was in Caledonia when I received your summons.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we have your trains now to allow you to travel so freely.”

“Uhh, absolutely,” Hortensius said, frowning a little.

“Well, one of the reasons I asked you here was to congratulate you on finishing the line to Londinium. I understand it was quite a lot of work.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Hortensius said, taking a seat, not noticing Medb’s darkening expression as he did so uninstructed. “While it wasn’t easy, most of that was centered around learning and adjusting our processes. While the line between Factorium and here was beneficial as a first step, there were still many unexpected challenges as we progressed to a much longer stretch of track. The men did excellent work, however, and the line between Devnum and Londinium, with a stop in Factorium, is running every day now.”

“I see,” Medb said flatly. “And speaking of significant undertakings, I trust you’ve made progress on the new line to Caledonia?”

“Ah, yes, the Caledonia line. As you might expect, we’ve encountered... difficulties.”

“Difficulties?”

“Yes. One of the reasons we started with the line to Londinium was that it was possible to make a line that was more or less flat, with only rolling hills to deal with. The north, however, is a much different prospect. The terrain is much rockier with many rapid changes in elevation. Using gunpowder to help blast tunnels is much faster than just digging by hand, as we would have had to do previously, but it is still very slow. Especially using the safety precautions and construction methods for the tunnels the Consul instructed us on. We also have to grade almost every inch of track even when running next to hills and mountains and not tunneling through it. It makes every inch of line take a large amount of time.”

“So, how do you propose to deal with these... difficulties?”

“It’s not one problem, my lady, but a series of them. Many we anticipated and are already working on options, but it will take time.”

“Okay, how much time?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say for certain, my lady.”

“Well. Figure it out. I also know you regularly updated the Empress on your progress when she sat on this side of the desk. I want the same kind of cooperation and expect you to keep me apprised of your progress.”

Hortensius opened his mouth to reply and she said, “I appreciate you coming. You are dismissed.”

Picking up a page, Medb returned to reading where she’d left off, ignoring the inventor as he stood for a moment before turning and leaving as he’d come.

***

Germania

Lucilla stood to one side of the massive Anglii longhouse, watching the gathered conclave of Germanic leaders in dismay. Ky had mentioned some of the issues and rivalries they’d been forced to deal with when making the initial alliance with the tribes, but she’d been under the impression most of those had been, if not ended, at least suppressed. At least enough to allow the tribes to work together.

Things were clearly not as harmonious as she’d been led to believe, as she watched the men bickering and arguing amongst themselves. It was hard to pick out one conversation, as it seemed everyone was arguing with everyone else, but those she could hear made it clear most of the grievances stemmed from old and deep-rooted, everyone digging up past wrongs and conflicts from years, and sometimes generations, ago.

Worse, a few of the conflicts she heard referenced in their arguments seemed to be much more recent, since Ky departed for Gaul and Italia. If they were starting to fight among themselves again, then things here were much worse than she feared.

Conflicts over territory each tribe had claim to, but had been prevented from taking during the Carthaginian occupation. Arguments over broken oaths and deals one side felt was handled unfairly. Even arguments about youths from one tribe being bound to youths from another tribe, against parents’ wishes. There seemed to be no end to what these people would argue about, with each of them nursing grudges and old enmities.

After listening to ten minutes of petty squabbling, she’d heard enough. Head held high, she walked into the center of the conclave and, with a dramatic sweep of her arm, threw back the simple cloak hood that had covered her face, hiding her identity.

“I am Lucilla Germanicus, Empress of Rome and the Britannic Empire!” she announced, her voice clear and steady. “And I have come before you seeking an audience.”

A hush descended on the assembly as the arguments trailed off at her sudden appearance. She waited for a moment, letting the men take her sudden appearance in their minds, before she spoke again.

“I stand before you amazed,” she said finally. “After years of fighting together for your freedom, you needed only a single short winter of that freedom before you turned on each other again.”

She let the words hang in the air, allowing them to sink in. The room remained silent.

“The war is not over. The Carthaginians could return at any time to threaten your lands again. You have clearly forgotten what this alliance was originally about - working together to protect your people and your future.”

Lucilla’s words seemed to cow the men, who shifted uncomfortably as they exchanged glances. She let the silence linger for a moment before continuing.

“Britannia stands by its word and I honor the commitments and guarantees made by Consul to each of you. The Britannic Empire believes in supporting our allies. However, we did not come here to play favorites or allow one ally to intimidate or attack another. Our alliance and support is contingent on the defensive nature of said alliance. We will support any tribe here against outside attack. But I will not support aggression against your neighbors, unless it is an action we unanimously agree must be taken. I understand conflict happens, I would be happy to send an imperial negotiator to help resolve disputes. We could even involve a neutral third party from one of your other allies, if all sides agree to mediation. What we will not be is a conspirator of one tribe to conquer the others.”

Lucilla waited, gauging their reactions, giving them a chance to speak up, to disagree or shout curses. Better to let any tribe that disagreed show themselves now rather than wait and scheme behind their backs. No one did. She could see the seeds of doubt taking root. This was more of a restating of their previous terms, with the added threat of fighting on the side of any tribe attacked, rather than new policy, but it highlighted the self-defeating decisions they’d been making. From their silence, clearly many of the men who’d been so eager to shout at each other

“I do not come here to threaten you,” she continued. “But I will not stand by and watch as you tear each other apart. The Carthaginians are gone, but there are other threats that will come. Together, you can face them and build a future that is brighter than anything you have ever known. But you must be united.”

She paused, letting her words sink in.

“With all that being said, what I am proposing is a defensive alliance among yourselves. Not the loose agreement we have now, for you all to buy from us and for some level of support, but a pact that would guarantee the security of all your lands and peoples. This isn’t an agreement between Britannia and each of you, but one between yourselves. Britannia would welcome being asked to join as a partner in this alliance, but that is your decision. If we are asked to be a part of this, we would offer a guarantee of security from attack on any member of the alliance, but would require you to defend our empire, unless you choose to do so. That is a very one-sided agreement, binding us to you without binding you to us, but that should be a clear indication of how much we believe this is necessary, not just for your future, but for the future of the continent as a whole.”

The silence that had fallen across the entire assembly finally broke at this proclamation, almost a wave rippling through the men as they reacted. They were intrigued by the idea. It also probably occurred to many of the tribes, especially the more aggressive ones, that if even two of them agreed to this and formed the alliance, they would then have a powerful ally on their side that the rest did not. The more tribes that joined, the less the other tribes could afford not to join.

“I do want to say that this is not why I came here,” Lucilla added. “But, seeing the state of things, I think it is important. More important than my initial reason for coming before you. It is that important, to not only me but all free people, that there be peace on the continent. When Carthage is gone, we are all going to have a real chance to build a real golden age. A chance I, for one, am determined to take.”

Aliverko, the Anglii leader, stood up, waving the others to silence.

“Empress, you honor us with your words and presence, and I’m certain every one of us will consider your offer carefully. You had said this proposition was not why you came before this assembly today, which brings me to ask, why are you here?”

The question wasn’t as innocent as it might have seemed. Ramirus and Aliverko had a good working relationship and he was the only Germanic leader who knew she was coming. She had spoken to him briefly, in secret, before this gathering, and he knew what she was actually here for. He was a clever man and knew she couldn’t put her request forward now, after making her proposition, without it seeming like a quid pro quo. He’d helpfully reopened that door for her.

“Yes. While I do think an alliance would be a benefit to everyone here, and the people they lead, this is indeed not why I came. I came, because of the war that brought us all together. We are nearing the end game of the war with Carthage, and it is possible their hegemony over all of us could end this year. But my empire is spread thin. Too thin to achieve the final push needed to stop them once and for all, at least on our own. I came seeking help to ensure they do not get the time they need to prolong this conflict or, worse, find a way to win it, forcing all of us under their sovereignty again.”

“You show yourself,” one of the men said. “You presume to not only tell us who not to fight against, but who we must fight as well. Will you become the next Carthage, another oppressor we must obey? Why should we submit ourselves to you?”

“I am not requiring any of you to do anything,” Lucilla said calmly, not taking the bait. “I did not come here to propose an alliance or even suggest it, the idea only coming to rest as I saw all of you ready to throw your hard-won peace away over petty grievances, and I very clearly did not put any stipulation on our assistance in protecting the proposed alliance on whether any tribe assists us or not. I wasn’t going to mention this at all, in light of my proposition, had I not been asked. My hope, however, is that you all recognize how close things are right now. The Carthaginians could come back and put all of us back under the yoke. Britannia stands to its last to prevent that from happening, and we hope you would all feel the same. But we do not demand nor mandate your help. It’s up to you to decide what you want to do.”

As the man looked away, Lucilla swept her gaze across the rest of the gathered assembly. None else stood in challenge.

“I will be a guest of the Anglii for a time, should any of you want to discuss my proposals,” she said finally. “I hope you all choose to consider my words, both about assisting us in our final fight against the Carthaginians, but, maybe even more importantly, about an arrangement to guarantee real peace in Germania. I have long held a dream of a better world, and I hope that all of you choose to join me in that dream.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the longhouse, leaving the men to their deliberations.

***

Mediterranean, Off the Coast of North Africa

Admiral Valdar stood on the quarterdeck of the Bellona, the middle Sea stretched out before him, dotted with the sails of his fleet. He always enjoyed watching his fleet at work, the large forms of the Caravels dwarfing the smaller galleys nearby.

They had done good work, sinking every Carthagenian fleet they’d come in contact with, which was becoming more and more infrequent as they cleared the middle sea of the enemy entirely. While it felt good, having the accomplishment, it had been not been an easy transition, as their role had shifted from a combat force to one patrolling the sea, on the hunt for Carthagenians. It was a very different task, and one for which he felt ill-prepared.

Or rather, ill-equipped. Peace keeping on even a smaller sea like this required a lot more boats than sailing from one fight to another. He once again wished he had more Caravels and schooners. The converted galleys were helpful, and the port of Kalb was now able to refit captured galleys with new sail plans. But they couldn’t operate independently, since they had neither the guns nor the men to spare for a galley, which wasn’t able to stand up to grouped enemy galleys.

Still, his job had been accomplished, and he had more or less locked down the middle sea. While they had not yet blockaded Carthage, mostly for want of ships, they had severed all sea lanes to and from it.

He watched as his ships surrounded a group of vessels sailing for Sicilia, inspecting them for any cargo meant for Carthaginian forces. They were still allowing basic merchant traffic, transporting food and goods, but any ship carrying military supplies or confirmed to be bound for enemy forces was captured and its crew sent off to a prison camp.

He could see the sailors swarming over the deck, checking the cargo and questioning the crew. It surprised him, with all of the supplies they’d taken, that the Carthaginians would still try and ship supplies this way, but they were becoming more and more desperate, and taking more and more risks.

“Excuse me, Admiral,” one of his officers said, coming up behind him. “We’ve just intercepted a ship carrying materiel bound for Sicilia.”

Not the first and certainly not the last one they would intercept.

“Good work. Another loss for the Carthaginians.”

Instead of acknowledging the statement and moving on, the man hesitated, torn between walking away and saying something else.

“A problem?” Valdar asked.

“Yes, Admiral. Aside from the more standard supplies, including gunpowder, we found something … unusual. Weapons we didn’t expect.”

“What do you mean, ‘weapon you didn’t expect?’“

“They look like the cannons we’ve been using, sir, only… less so.”

“Damaged? Did they manage to take some of our cannon in a battle? But, if they did, it would have been taken on the continent, not Africa. Why ship it back to Carthage only to turn around and bring it back.”

“No. Sir. I don’t think it’s one of ours. It’s much larger than one of ours, and it’s made of bronze.”

“One of the early designs the Consul showed us was bronze, before he introduced the reinforced steel tubes. The bronze ones apparently warped easier, but didn’t shatter during a misfire.”

The man didn’t say anything to that. Why would he? While he trained his men continually on the operation of cannon, they knew little of the actual construction, which wasn’t needed to man the weapons. Valdar only knew because the Consul liked to talk, and once explained it to a group of legates and Valdar one time.

“Take me to them,” he said. “I want to see these weapons for myself.”

Admiral Valdar took a long boat to the captured Carthaginian vessel. Its crew was gathered to one side of their deck, bound and kneeling, surrounded by a group of armed sailors. For the most part, they looked resigned, probably assuming the Britannians were going to kill them and throw them to the sharks. No doubt their Carthaginian masters had told them that was exactly what happened to the captured. While it wasn’t entirely untrue, and almost certainly how the Carthaginians dealt with captured Britannians, it wasn’t how they normally dealt with the Carthaginians.

For the moment, Valdar ignored them, instead following his officer to a collection of grates at a far end of the sailed galley. Most were opened, having been checked by the crew, filled with gunpowder, food supplies, and the like. They also didn’t hold Valdar’s attention. What did was the stack of four metal tubes, stacked together two by two on a wooden cradle.

His officer had described them well. They were notably larger than his own cannon and the dull golden color of bronze. He could also see why the man had been confused. There were distinct differences. For one, although the cannon was larger, the bore hole was much smaller, with a huge metal shell around it. For another, it wasn’t rifled. While the cannons on his ships weren’t rifled either, his were fitted with attachments on the side to allow it mounted into a heavy wheeled gun carriage. This was, for all intents and purposes, a solid tube with a small fuse hole in the top.

Primitive, is the word he’d use to describe it.

“And the ship was headed to Sicilia?” Valdar asked.

“That is what he said, but it was before we pulled the sheet covering the cannon off and opened the crates. It’s possible he was lying.”

“I see. Bring him to me then,” he ordered.

The officer nodded and hurried away. A few minutes later, he returned with a small, wiry man in tow. The captain was dressed in fine clothes, but his face was pale and his eyes were wide with fear.

“What is this?” Valdar asked, gesturing to the cannon.

The man hesitated for a moment and said, “I don’t know. I was told to allow my ship to be loaded with cargo, which I was then instructed to bring to Sicilia. That is what I was doing. I didn’t even know what was in the crates.”

On the face of it, it was plausible. After all, that was how the Carthaginians treated most of their subjects. But he’d seen a lot of Carthaginian ships over the past few years, and especially since entering the middle sea. None of the private merchant ships he’d seen had been upgraded with the new sail plans. This one even had two masts, forward and stern, rather than one in the center. That kind of addition would have needed to be made from the keel up, and not something just upgraded later.

If this was a simple merchant, forced against his will to deliver Carthaginian supplies, Valdar would eat his rigging.

“Don’t lie to me,” Valdar growled. “You aren’t some simple merchant, and you know exactly where this came from and how your people got their hands on it.”

The captain swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I swear.”

Valdar’s patience was running thin. “This is your last chance. I will not ask again. Where was this produced? How did it get to you?”

The captain looked around frantically, as if searching for a way out. But there was nowhere to go. He was surrounded by armed sailors.

“I don’t know!” he cried. “I swear!”

Valdar gave the man a hard stare and then nodded once.

“Make sure his ankles, legs, and arms are all secured and throw him over the side,” he said, before turning to look at the rest of the crew. “Someone find me his second.”

The sailors grabbed the captain and started to drag him away, while others grabbed additional lengths of rope.

“No! Wait!” The captain struggled as they dragged him toward the rail, screaming frantically. “They came by convoy from Egypt, I think.”

Valdar held up a hand, stopping the sailors from tossing the man over.

“Not made by your people though, I think. Where did this come from? Are you expecting me to believe someone in Egypt developed them?”

“I only know they arrive by ship sailing up the Red Sea, where a caravan brings them the rest of the way west, since no ship is safe in these waters anymore.”

“And yet you tried?”

“I only did what I was ordered to. They don’t ask me what I think,” The man pleaded. “Please, I told you everything I know.”

“No captain lets goods onto their ship without trying to find out something about it, even one as cowardly as you. I know you asked around, and I’m betting you heard something. Maybe you just need a little swim to jog your mind,” Valdar said, signaling to the sailors, who put their hands under the captain’s arms and started to lift him again.

“I swear, I don’t know who’s sending them. All I know are the rumors I’ve heard. Something about a great empire somewhere far to the east able to make weapons similar to you people.”

“You say this shipment arrived via the Red Sea and Egypt?”

“Now they are. These weapons first showed up last year with the fire powder, which arrived at the coast of Syria and then transferred to one of our ships, and sent west. Since the spring, though, the shipments have changed. They’re now bringing in more, by boat, and we’re the ones taking them by caravan.”

“What else have you heard?”

“Nothing. Only rumors and speculation. We know they’re powerful, but other than that, no one knows. I don’t even know anyone who’s seen one of these foreigners, let alone spoken to them. I swear.”

Valdar stared at the man for a moment. While he was certain the man would have heard rumors, it also seemed likely that the Carthaginians did keep what they knew about these weapons and the people providing them secret, otherwise word would have leaked out sooner. Ramirus had been caught as flat-footed when the gunpowder showed up in Carthaginian hands as anyone else, and the only way to keep that kind of information out of the spymasters’ hands was to make sure hardly anyone knew what was happening.

It also explained something that had been bothering most of the commanders. It had seemed impossible to almost all of them that the Carthaginians would be able to duplicate something as dangerous and specific as gunpowder, and yet the Carthaginians had seemingly done just that. They had all wondered how that had happened, and this explained it. The Carthaginians didn’t duplicate anything. They found someone else who had similar knowledge to the Consul. The pieces, at least the ones he could see, fit.

“Put them with the others for delivery to the prisoner camps in Gaul. Have the rest of this sent to Britannia for examination, except for one of the cannon. Send it and a messenger to the Consul with an explanation of what we found. I will include a note to go along with it. Use one of our fastest ships for the message to the Consul, but everything else can go the standard route.”

The sailor saluted in the Roman tradition, or maybe it was the Britannian tradition now, and began hauling the men up, to be transferred to another ship. After the defeat of the Carthaginian armies in Gaul, the consul had set up an additional prison camp outside of Daramouda, where the Praetorians would interview the prisoners and determine which ones needed to be held and which could be paroled and sent home, to at least save the empire the expense of feeding them.

That would also make them someone else’s problems, which was good for Valdar, since this discovery gave him something new to worry about. Instead, he returned quickly to his ship, summoning the other Caravel captains in his fleet to come aboard with utmost haste.

While he waited for them, Valdar paced, considering the problem he was just presented and his options for what to do about it. What he knew for a fact was he’d seen the enemies’ plans for countering the Britannian army, and he had a chance to do something to stop them. He also knew that, if they were already receiving these weapons, he didn’t have much time to step in and act.

Only five of his captains were with him at the moment, the rest either back at Kalb continuing the blockade of the middle sea or sailing with a collection of smaller ships, patrolling for Carthaginians. Valdar wasted no time, laying out his plan as soon as the last captain was on board.

“We’ve been presented with a rare opportunity to stop the enemy from their latest plans to counter the legions and the weapons that give us much of our advantage, but we do not have a lot of time. Shipments of the new weapons the Carthaginians are receiving, which might be strong enough to counter our own cannon and rifles, are already being shipped into Carthage. It’s impossible to know how many they have already received, but what we do know is that we want to stop them from getting any more. They have always had the manpower advantage on us. If they manage to maintain that and close the technology gap between us, our men will have little chance.”

“How do we stop them?” Ingvarr, the captain of the Hrafn, asked. “Do we know where the weapons are coming in from? I assume since you say we have a chance, it’s being brought to them by ship.”

“It is. Apparently, the nation supplying these weapons is in the far east, well beyond where anyone I’ve heard of having traveled. They used to deliver these weapons from Syria across these waters to Carthage, but they had to adjust once we gained control of the middle sea. Instead, they’ve begun shipping everything up the red sea, delivering it in Egypt, where it is then taken overland to Carthage.”

“How can we do anything about it, then?” Kvasir, Captain of the Polluck, asked. “We know the Carthaginians have men in Egypt and a large force still in Persia. Even with a full legion, I doubt we’d be able to hold that region long. As soon as they swarmed our men, probably from both sides, the shipments would return.”

“True, which is why I’m not suggesting we land any men.”

“Then how do you want us to stop them?” Ingvarr asked.

“The Consul once told me it was possible to sail around Africa and up the other side. We were discussing some of the tools he’s given us for navigation, the improved compass, the sextant, and the better time telling devices. He was highlighting how much time they would save in voyages and the more difficult routes to take, when discussing it, and used sailing around Africa and up the other side as an example. He said, with the new tools, we could make the journey in two to three months. That might not be enough to stop all shipments, but it would mean halting them this year. But only if we start now.”

“We’re going to sail around Africa and to the Red Sea?” Kvasir asked in disbelief.

“Yes. It will not be easy going. When I probed, the Consul told me that the waters were as harsh, or harsher, than what we experience on the Serpentine Sea or here on the Middle Sea. But, we’ve shown that we are able to sail the north sea waters with these ships, and I believe, with the exception of rounding the horn, we should be able to handle what the gods throw at us. I will leave you in charge, Ingvarr, along with two-thirds of the caravels and schooners in the fleet. You’re to ensure the Carthaginian shipping remains suppressed and the Consul has the support he needs. I will take four of the Caravels and a fair number of the converted galleys and older long boats that have been upgraded to the newer sail plans. I will also see about borrowing a small contingent of legionnaires from Kalb. I believe if, along the way, we set up some ports along the coast, we will have stations along the way to stop and refit as needed and reload supplies. I will spend a week in Kalb, talking to some merchants that I know, and see if I can’t convince them to throw in with us. If we could manage to make this at least somewhat profitable, it will go a long way to establishing a supply line around the cape.”

“If you’re sure,” Ingvarr said, echoing Kavsir’s hesitation.

“I am. Start sending out orders. I want to sail for Kalb within the hour.”