The Triumph of Venus - Chapter 20

Devnum

Lucilla sat alone upon the imperial throne, the majesty of her office all around her, structured to force audience seekers to look up slightly at the top of the dais. It was designed to put Lucilla in a position of power over those who came before her, and why she’d chosen to hold this particular meeting here today, instead of in her office or one of the quieter corners of the royal palace.

The room wasn’t exactly as it was during her normal audiences, however. Gone were the normal courtiers and attendants, petitioners and guards, all of whom filled the hall on audience days. The only other person in the room was Ramirus, who stood beside her chair silently, hands clasped behind his back, passive and serious as always.

Both of their eyes were fixed on the doors to the audience chamber as her guards pushed it open, admitting the former queen of Connacht, who was ushered in. Cool and collected as ever, she walked with her head up and shoulders back, like she was marching into war. Which for her, was probably true.

Lucilla couldn’t help but feel a pang of uneasiness as she watched Medb approach. The queen had shown herself capable and even, to a small degree, trustworthy over the last several months, but Lucilla knew she’d never shed her cunning and hunger for power. It made her simultaneously perfect for this assignment and a dangerous gamble.

Just the kind of duality Lucilla hated.

“Medb, thank you for coming,” Lucilla said as the former queen stopped in front of the dais, pointedly not kneeling or bowing, as was tradition.

“I’m not sure how much of a choice I had,” Medb said, subtly looking to the guards flanking her.

“I believe we sent a messenger with the request and not a guard. These gentlemen are here in a ceremonial capacity only. Thank you both, you may go,” Lucilla said to the two guards.

The men offered crisp bows before turning on their heels and marching back the way they came. Medb, for her part, didn’t even acknowledge they’d moved.

“I asked you here because I wanted to talk to you about the work you’ve been doing with Ramirus. He tells me you’ve done excellent work and are the person to thank for the Uliad suddenly reversing their previous decision and agreeing to send men, even temporarily, to help ease our manpower situation in Italia. He has spoken highly of your efficiency and dedication in the matter.”

“I appreciate his support,” Medb said, her tone indicating she did nothing of the sort. “I only had to make a few well-placed suggestions, reminding certain members of the Uliad delegation as to where their loyalties lie.”

“There are only the four of us here, Medb,” Lucilla said. “There’s no reason to continue playing word games. While Ramirus was right about Senator Fiacha’s curating of information to his king and double-dealing, I think your solution ended better than what would have happened if I had followed Ramirus’s original suggestion of alerting King Conchobar directly. While I’m not sure the end result is what I would have wanted either, it was effective. My only concern is that, in pressuring the Senator, you have potentially set up a situation that could come back and haunt us in the future. Conchobar might not have been pleased to learn what his servant has been doing, but I’m certain he’d be significantly less pleased to know someone here subverted him.”

“Which is the point I made to Ramirus. I’m not Roman, so the blame can’t lie with you or Rome.”

“That might work on paper, Medb, but Conchobar will see through that reasoning. He’s no fool, and treating him like one, assuming he won’t see Fiacha’s situation or decision to work with you, as anything other than what it is, is a mistake.”

“I’m not sure I’d agree about Conchobar, but what else would you have me do? If you think this is some kind of ploy, like Ramirus keeps hinting at, then run him directly, notify Conchobar, or do whatever else you feel is necessary.”

“I’m not suggesting any of those things. Like I said at the outset, both Ramirus and I are happy with how you’ve decided to handle the situation, and both agree things worked out well enough. I also know you like playing games, sometimes to your own detriment, and would like for you to keep in mind the larger picture at times like this.”

“Noted,” Medb said flatly.

“I didn’t ask you here to lecture you or quibble, Medb. I really do think you did a fantastic job, and I wanted to thank you personally for the excellent work,” Lucilla said, resisting the urge to yell at the woman for her stubbornness. “I also wanted to offer you a new challenge that I think you will find particularly appealing.”

“I live to serve,” Medb said, sarcastically curtsying.

“What I’m about to tell you is not yet common knowledge, and hopefully will not become so before I return. I intend to leave Devnum, and Britannia as a whole, soon to travel to the continent and treat with the Germanic tribes there. Even with the release of more Uliad warriors, we still desperately need more to reinforce the men already fighting legions in Italia,” Lucilla said, and then paused for a long moment to let her next words stand on their own. “I am planning on leaving you in charge in my absence.”

“Me?” Medb blurted out, her shell breaking for the first time ever, true surprise etched on her face.

Lucilla didn’t bother holding back a smile. The woman was so maddeningly in control all the time, it was nice to catch her off guard for once.

“Yes, you. You were a queen in your own right and have proven you have both the ability and cunning to handle the job. More importantly, even though you are technically a subject of the Uliad crown, you have shown you are beholden to none of the three powers of Britannia. That is something my more high-placed subjects have had trouble understanding. I might be the ruler of Rome as well as Britannia, but when it comes to the empire as a whole, I cannot simply side with my homeland. I have to make decisions that are for the good of the empire as a whole. I’m not sure anyone else I could appoint would understand that, and I don’t know if our Empire would survive if they didn’t. I don’t think you will have the same dilemma.”

“When you say you will be leaving me in charge, what exactly do you expect me to do?” Medb asked, her surprise again disappearing behind a mask of control.

“You will manage the empire as a whole. Ramirus and my advisors will manage Rome in my absence while you look to the needs of Britannia. You will handle audiences, manage the bureaucracy, and keep the Senate on track. You’ll intercede as needed and deal with any diplomatic needs that arise. I am leaving you with the full authority to make decisions as you see fit.”

“Thank you for putting your trust in me,” Medb said, all but vibrating as she struggled to hold back her obvious excitement.

“Don’t sound too eager too quickly,” Lucilla warned. “I know the thing you want, more than another, is to rule once more. To sit upon a throne and wield power as you did before. While this opportunity does give you a taste of that responsibility and authority again, I need you to understand that it is temporary. I will be watching closely, as will others, and if we detect any attempt to overstep your bounds or try to gain more advantage than what I have granted, there will be consequences.”

Medb’s expression hardened at Lucilla’s words, but she remained silent.

“Both Faenius and Ramirus will have the authority to remove you if necessary, with force if you resist or scheme against them. King Conchobar and King Talogren, along with Taenaris and Roti, will be notified of the situation and will not tolerate any games or manipulation from you either. While Fiacha was also notified, to keep up the fiction of his independence, I think you will understand that any use of him to counter concerns of the others will also trigger your immediate removal. Consider this yet another test, Medb. You now have a chance to participate more fully in the governance of this empire, to have real responsibility and yes, even a measure of power. But it only continues if you stay within the clearly defined bounds I have set. Should you decide to grasp for more, to overplay your hand, this opportunity and any future chances will disappear.”

Knowing that Medb was smart enough to read between the lines, Lucilla left it unsaid that her head could follow those chances if the offense was grievous enough.

“If, however, you serve faithfully and work for the good of Britannia, not just your personal interests, you will find me a generous and supportive patron, with the full might of Rome and the empire behind you. The choice is yours, Medb. Tread carefully.”

“Don’t worry, your majesty, I’ll be a good girl,” said condescendingly, bowing slightly.

“For your sake, I hope so.”

The former queen turned and walked out of the audience chamber. Lucilla watched her go, uncertain if this was a wise move to counter the other states and those in her own government who might use this moment as an opportunity, or a foolhardy rationalization that would doom all of Britannia.

***

Hofstadir, Svealand Region, Scandia

Yrsa guided his horse along the winding dirt road, flanked on either side by dense birch forests, trying to push off the bad mood that had settled in days ago and refused to leave. He’d already been sent packing, making no progress, from the largest trading ports in the Agder and Rygjafylke regions, both of which were on the sea facing Britannia and did the most trade with the empire. He’d hoped that would have meant they would be the most likely to hear out his argument, but that hadn’t been the case.

Yrsa wasn’t even sure why he was taking this personally. He’d told the Empress how unlikely it was that any of his people, who were traders and isolationists when it came to anything beyond trading, almost to a fault. But now that he’d taken on her pointless mission, some part of him had decided to take it seriously, which meant when the inevitable failures came, it only served to annoy him.

This was the first non-port city, even though it was still essentially a fishing village at its heart, sitting on the shores of Lake Mälaren, because it also happened to be a major religious hub. Yrsa hoped that the wise men here would see things more clearly than the secular elders at the trading ports.

He had to admit, as he broke through the treeline and looked out at the cleared area around the village, that it was a beautiful place. Modest timber longhouses, workshops, and storehouses formed a loose ring around the village center—a large earthen mound capped by an ornate structure of carved wood and stone. It was the building on the mound that brought most of the people currently in the village here, since more than half the people in Hofstadir were not from here directly.

Which also meant hardly anyone took notice of him and the small party that had set out from his ship that morning.

Yrsa dismounted, his group tying the horses they had rented from a farmer at the port and leaving his men behind to watch them as he and his first mate made their way up the gravel path to the top of the mount, which was currently cluttered with people.

The largest group was gathered around an older man, who was speaking to each in turn. Yrsa, never a particularly religious man, had never been here, but he could recognize a wise man when he saw him, stood in line to wait. Yrsa must have stood out, dressed finer than most of the peasants who’d made the pilgrimage to the site, or maybe just because of his size, because the elder excused himself from the farmer and craftsmen as soon as he saw the captain, making his way over to them.

“I am Bjarki, the Goði of the shrine. I welcome you both as strangers and friends.”

Yrsa inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you. I am Yrsa, a trader and ship’s captain. I have been asked to come and speak to villages on behalf of the Britannian Empire across the Herring Sea to treat with leaders of larger villages. Can we speak for a few moments?”

The man looked surprised but nodded and beckoned Yrsa to follow. Yrsa wasn’t sure if the surprise was because a clearly Scandi captain represented a foreign interest or because, landlocked as they were, he was unaware of Britannia, but either way, it did not start off their discussions on the correct footing.

The main section of the longhouse had people scattered around it, performing various rituals. Bjarki mostly ignored them, leading Yrsa and his first mate to a small side room not much bigger than his cabin aboard the Skinbladnir, taking a seat on a small bench, which left Yrsa to stand. Had he been younger, Yrsa might have thought that a power play, but the man was seemingly ancient and had all but shuffled his way through the long house. Yrsa wasn’t sure he would have been able to stand through the entire discussion.

“What does your empress want with our small villages?” The man said as he settled himself.

“I am not Britannian.”

“My apologies. What does their empress want from us?”

“I’ve been sent here to offer an alliance of sorts, to any village that wants it. Britannia is currently at war with Carthage, which as…”

“I’m aware of what is happening to the south,” the man said, surprising Yrsa.

“Ohh, umm,” Yrsa fumbled, a little taken off guard. “Well, the Britannians are on the verge of taking the fight to Carthage itself. However, we’re taxed to our limits for manpower against the juggernaut that is Carthage. They’re asking for any men who can be sent to help. These men will not be used in the war itself and will only help keep the peace in villages and towns where the Carthaginians have withdrawn, leaving chaos in their wake.”

For a moment, the man said nothing, only staring at Yrsa. The silence went on long enough Yrsa worried he might not have heard him or was maybe feeble in some way.

The captain looked to his first mate and was about to repeat himself when Bjarki said, “Why is a Scandi captain the messenger of this foreign empire? Why would they not send one of their own?”

This comment did not catch Yrsa off guard and had been one asked by each of the other villages he’d visited.

“Many of our neighbors have migrated to Britannia, which is undergoing a dramatic shift. New technology and ideas taking hold there have presented enormous opportunities for our people to gain wealth and stability, drawing many Scandi, along with people from across the continent, to the empire. I have not migrated there permanently, as have so many others, but the Britannians have done well by me, and their empress felt it better to send one of their own people rather than a Britannian to make the request.”

“Does the wealth you’ve received from the Britannians make you invested in their success, and therefore not a remote third party?”

“I never said I was an uninterested party. I do seek to gain from the Britannian’s success, but that doesn’t make my interests toward my people here any less real. I’ve seen our countrymen do well in Britannia, and I’d like some of that success to find its way back here to Scandi.”

“You said they are requesting men to help keep the peace while they finish their war,” the wise man said, again not addressing Yrsa’s words directly. “Temporary has a strange way of becoming permanent, and how much can the people who die in someone else’s war profit from the spoils of that war?”

This Yrsa had heard from the other villages as well. Even with that, he still didn’t have a good response to it. The wise man was right, it was impossible to tell how long any people who agreed to travel south and work as peacekeepers would have to remain there.

“Our people are farmers and merchants,” Bjarki continued. “Craftsmen and traders. We have never been ones to fight someone else’s wars so far from home. That has always been left to the likes of the Greeks.”

“You haven’t seen the technology they are offering. Medicines, tools for farming, better implements for hunting. It will change every settlement that receives them. Sure, the benefits to Scandi would make up—”

“No benefits can make up for death,” Bjarki said, cutting him off. “Pitting our village, or Scandi as a whole, toward one side of someone else’s war can only cost our people.”

It may have been more eloquent and less greedy of a response, but it was no different than he’d heard at the last two villages. The war was someone else’s problem far away and had nothing to do with Scandi or her people.

“I know you feel this conflict does not involve our people directly,” Yrsa said, trying to change track. “But I have sailed those seas and witnessed the devastation firsthand. Entire villages razed, fields salted and burned. Mothers clutching starving children, fleeing for their lives. Innocents slaughtered or sold into slavery by the thousands. The Carthaginians show no mercy, not even to their own people who get in the way of their ambitions.”

Bjarki’s face remained impassive, but Yrsa pressed on.

“I understand your desire to protect your people above all else. But this is bigger than any one village or region. The Carthaginian war machine will not stop until it controls the entirety of the known world. Nowhere will be safe, not even frozen Scandi. Britannia represents our best chance to stop this,” Yrsa said, kneeling down to look at the wise man directly. “You, of all people, who speak for the gods, who tell them our sorrows and ask for their help, must understand how important this is. Why it must be done.”

“Our gods,” Bjarki finally said. “Those who watch over our people. They worship other gods, who have failed them. The all-father only cares for his people and would not want to send his children to their deaths to make up for some other god’s shortcomings. I’m sorry, but as much as my heart may go out to them, my duty is to my people. Here. I must say no.”

Yrsa collected himself, standing and nodding solemnly.

“I understand. Thank you for your time.”

“I’m sorry I must send you away empty-handed. I will pray to the gods for your safe travels.”

“Thank you,” Yrsa said, giving the man a final nod before leaving the room and longhouse altogether.

“Send word to all the merchant captains and concerns we know,” Yrsa said to his first mate as soon as they were outside. “Along with any Scandi merchants they’re acquainted with. I want a meeting, and soon. Make sure they know this has to do with the future of trade with Britannia as a whole.”

“There were some captains I knew at port when we left. They should be there when we get back. I’ll spread the word as soon as we do.”

“Good. We also need to head back to Britannia and meet with the Empress. What we’re doing here isn’t working, but I have an idea that might. It’s going to need her input though, if we’re going to make it work.”