The Triumph of Venus - Chapter 14

Central Britannia

Hortensius stepped off the supply train, appreciating for a moment the benefit of being able to travel this far to meet with the disaffected villages and still be back in Factorium to review that day’s production numbers. They were living in the future, and it amazed him that anyone would be against technology like this.

The smell of burned coal and oil filled the air. It was the smell of progress, and one he was getting to know more and more, although there was something to be said for the quality of the air around Factorium.

He made his way away from the train, which had already started to build up steam as it began moving forward toward the end of the track, where it would deliver supplies to the men extending it ever forward to Londinium. He’d never been to this village, but his managers had told him where the meeting had been set up, and in person, it wasn’t hard to pick out the larger central house, built in the Roman style, surrounded by smaller, Carthaginian-style dwellings. This was one of those villages that had lived for a long time on the border of Roman and Carthaginian lines, before the Carthaginians had been removed, and still maintained the style to reflect that heritage.

Several old men and men dressed in the current, more modern style quickly taking shape in Devnum, were gathered around a long table, chairs with sturdy backs around it. Hortensius silently shook his head as he saw it. For as much as these people were fighting progress, they certainly had adopted a lot of the new ideas the Consul had introduced.

“Good day, gentlemen,” Hortensius greeted them cheerfully, setting his drawings out and unrolling them on the table. “I appreciate you all taking time to talk with me today. I’m certain we can work out solutions to your issues around the railway going in through your lands.”

He’d been prepared to receive some pushback as he argued for the usefulness of the train, but he hadn’t expected it to be so vocal and immediate. Nearly as soon as he’d given greetings and started in on the explanation he’d come to give, his voice was drowned out by a chorus of objections.

“We’re losing too much acreage!” bellowed a burly livestock owner, his face reddening with indignation. “How can we feed our animals and families with less land?”

“And what about my crops? That dark smoke from your trains might ruin them! I can’t afford to take that risk,” another man said.

“The one-time payment for the land your tracks are going through doesn’t make up for the loss of valuable planting space!”

Hortensius held up his hands, signaling for calm. “I understand your concerns, gentlemen. I truly do. Because this is all new, it can be difficult to see the benefits, and only see what you are losing in exchange. That’s perfectly reasonable. Please allow me to address your concerns, and explain how what you are getting is much greater than what you are losing in return.”

The men fell mostly silent, although the expressions each man gave him made it clear they had little confidence he would be able to convince them of anything.

“I know it’s hard to tell now, but there are some very large, long-term benefits to the railway, and not just for the empire. I specifically mean long-term benefits for villagers such as yours,” Hortensius said. “The single largest advantage to you is the ability to bring your cattle and crops to markets in major cities that are currently unreachable. You’ll have access to a larger customer base and won’t be limited to local trade. And that works both ways. Instead of waiting for some of the marvels being produced further north to filter its way down here through traders, your local markets will have more direct access to the factories directly, allowing them to bring those supplies here faster and at much lower cost.”

Hortensius had one of his more artistically inclined employees draw up a bustling market scene showing a village much like this one, its market stalls full of both goods and customers. As he finished describing the increased trade to their village, he unrolled the image. It was pure pageantry, since there was no real way to know which markets along the train route would become hubs and which would remain sleepy backwaters, but it was a reasonable inference to make, since all would see some kind of increased traffic.

The farmers exchanged glances, and he could see that the argument was already working for some of the men, who were even now starting to count the money it might generate.

Hortensius pressed on. “I know it’s difficult to see past the immediate loss of land, but I assure you, the advantages will far outweigh the inconvenience.”

A young man with a defiant glare spoke up, “And what if I don’t want your railway cutting through my fields? I won’t let you build on my land, no matter what you offer.”

Hortensius met his gaze evenly, “I understand your feelings, but I must remind you that this project is for the greater good of our people. However, I’m willing to work with you to minimize the impact on your land and ensure fair compensation. If enough of your fellows feel the same, then we’d be given no choice but to acquiesce to your demands, and move the railway, and the hub of commerce that would come with it, through another village. The empress has been very clear that Britannia is not to become just another Carthage. We will not force the empire’s might down on you if the majority of you are against it.”

That was a bluff, of course. They had gone over the topography and most direct route through the region, and this was by far the best site for this section of the track. If it came down to it, he might have to go to the empress to force the issue. If he thought this might actually be harming them, he might not, since he really did want to make Britannia a better place than it had been under the threat of Carthage, but this seemed a clear case of people stuck in the past, needing someone to drag them, kicking and screaming, into the future.

“No matter the deals we work out with the landowners,” one of the old men at the table said, “we can’t control people who take materials left out by the empire. It’s becoming a real problem.”

“While we have talked to the Praetorians about increasing patrols in the area, I think part of the reason your people are finding it so easy to steal from the empire is that it’s generally accepted by the rest of the populace,” he said, and then held up a hand as several people began arguing, protesting their innocence. “I’m not saying any of you want to defy or clash with the empire. I’m just stating a simple fact that, when the majority of a people are against something, there tends to be a general sense of acceptance against anything that might counter that thing. I feel that, once I convince you all of the value of the rail to your village and your people accept that, the incidents of vandalism to the rail will decrease.”

“And how are you going to do that?” another man asked. “How will we know our village will be one that sees these benefits you’re talking about?”

Hortensius unrolled another drawing, this one showing a loading facility near a local station. “In exchange for your help, we will establish loading facilities at your local station, at the empire’s expense. These facilities would be available for the local populace to use at a low cost, making it easier for you to transport your goods to market. At first, that would be to Devnum and then points further north into Caledonia, or Londinium and shipment off to the continent, but as the rail lines expand, you will find even more markets open to you.”

Hortensius could see he was making progress with some of the men, and for a moment hoped they’d turned the corner that they would eventually have to turn. At least, until one older man with a worn face and calloused hands scoffed loudly.

“We’ve survived just fine for centuries without this nonsense!” he declared. “It’s nothing but a waste of time and money if you ask me. We don’t need it!”

Some of the men who moments before had started to look convinced now wavered again, nodding along with the grizzled villager. Hortensius frowned. This was why he preferred his factories over dealing with people. People followed no logic, just making mercurial decisions without rhyme or reason.

As the noise level rose, Hortensius pulled up one of the chairs and stood on it, trying to get their attention as the crowd egged each other on, becoming increasingly hostile.

“Please, my friends, I understand your hesitation, but I urge you to consider the future!” he implored passionately. “The world is changing rapidly. More and more people means more trade, more goods moving back and forth. I know your families have lived and farmed these lands for generations without these innovations. But if you do not adapt, you will be left behind while other villages embrace progress and reap the benefits.”

The old man didn’t say anything but folded his arms, unconvinced. Others began to swing back, however.

“Having the railway so close to your homes makes your villages invaluable as hubs of commerce for the surrounding areas,” Hortensius continued earnestly. “Your markets will swell with goods from afar, and your own products will find new customers. It will be like having a major crossroads or port right on your doorstep. A vital lifeline tapping you into the growing trade networks crisscrossing Britannia. I promise you, the railway will enrich your people beyond your imaginations if you give it a chance.”

Hortensius smiled as he saw the men begin to talk amongst themselves. As always, money trumped tradition. Some still grumbled about the inconvenience or personal loss, but Hortensius could see more considering the possibilities he had painted. Even better, several of their neighbors began arguing Hortensius’s point for him, which is what Hortensius really wanted. They might not listen to him, but they’d listen to the people they’d known their whole lives.

“You say our village could prosper from the railway, but how do we know it will be chosen as a station hub over other villages in the region?”

Several of the other elders voiced their agreement.

“Yeah, tell us how these station hubs will be selected!” one demanded.

“Valid concerns,” Hortensius said. “Let me explain the criteria we are using to determine station locations.”

He unrolled another sketch, this one a regional map marked with potential sites.

“The primary factors are distance between hubs to maximize coverage, size of local population to support commerce, and access to roads and rivers to facilitate transport of goods,” Hortensius said, gesturing at several of the marked locations. “As you can see, based on those criteria, your village is in an optimal location to be selected as a hub, being equidistant from other large villages in the area, at the convergence of several roads, and with your markets and farms able to provide goods for trade. That being said, if a majority of you really do not want this line going near your village, we will, of course, listen to your complaints.”

The village elders began looking to each other, as did some of the ranchers, who had a fair number of costs involved with getting their animals to the larger markets of Devnum and Factorium, but who had a large appetite for both meat and animal byproducts. The fear of their competitors getting something they would otherwise receive outweighed their fear of what they might lose to the rail lines.

“Thank you for your time, Hortensius,” one of the men said as several of the louder dissenters were swarmed by their fellows, each pressing them to be silent on the point. “We still have much to discuss, but if you stay true to your word, I don’t think you’ll be having more problems from us.”

Hortensius could just imagine what those discussions might be. What mattered, though, was that the people with the most money in this region and those with the most political clout were both coming to his side. Which meant any of the other dissenters were going to find the ground underneath them getting very soft indeed.

He might have to come back here again, but it seemed a good bet the issue, with these sets of villages at least, was solved.

***

Devnum

Medb stood outside the palace, partially in shadow cast by the late afternoon sun against the large granite and marble pillars that made up the front of the impressive complex. She wasn’t skulking in the shadows intentionally, though. That had just been a happy circumstance. She’d positioned herself out here more than an hour before, waiting for the man she needed to emerge from the palace and into the open, where the world had fewer ears.

Senator Fiacha had finally arrived almost ten minutes ago, but he hadn’t been alone, which meant Medb had to wait even longer. So she continued to lean against the pillars as the shadows crept across her as he argued and bickered with some of the other imperial senators over whatever those men found important to bicker about.

It took almost thirty minutes for the long-winded men to finally finish up their discussion and break apart. She waited until the last senator got far enough away to not become involved in their conversation and for Fiacha to get a little ways from the palace, before she pushed herself off the pillar and hurried after him.

“Senator Fiacha,” she called as she caught up to him. As he spun around, eyebrows going up in surprise as he recognized her, she asked, “May I have a word?”

“What do you want?” He asked, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

Medb was not surprised by the cool reception. Among the Ulaid, she was persona non grata, as the Romans would say. Between her openly leading her kingdom against the Ulaid and then the Britannians, news of her conflict with the empress last year had not remained secret, earning her a general sense of distrust. While it made doing anything inconvenient, she had to admit, if only to herself, it was a reputation well earned. This time, at least, that reputation would work in her favor, which is probably why Ramirus requested her for this in the first place.

“I know you have been in discussions with the Empress about sending more men to fight on the continent,” Medb began, her tone conversational. “And that you’ve informed her that Conchobar is unwilling to grant her request.”

“That’s right,” he said, his brow creasing slightly. “We’ve given enough to this war already, in both blood and resources. To give more would be to deprive my people of enough to sustain themselves. That is the will of the Ulaid people, something you would know little about.”

“Perhaps not,” Medb replied, ignoring the dig. “But what I do know is that you have not contacted home about the Empress’s offer, in spite of what you told her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

The lie was smooth; she had to hand it to him. He didn’t flinch or react to the accusation. His only real miss was his being almost too passive. If it had been her, she would have thrown in a bit of confusion or concern to sell the lie. Not that it mattered this time. She knew what his lie was going to be before he even uttered it.

“Interesting,” she said, letting a small smile play at the corners of her mouth. Not too much, just a hint of victory. “They tell me your man Cairell has been intercepting the messages you sent home directly off the messenger boat, and then sending that same message back, so you had an effective paper trail while still letting you determine what ‘Conchobar’s’ answer would be.”

Medb, in fact, did not know any of that herself, but somehow Ramirus had. He didn’t reveal how he came upon this information, but Medb had been duly impressed by the volume and the specifics of what he did know. It also explained why she’d been caught so easily before, even as she used cutouts to protect her identity. It was a good lesson, and one she intended to take to heart.

“How dare you!” he spat, his expression changing from anger to shock, and then quickly back to anger. “You have no proof of this!”

There it was, she thought, forcing back a real smile that threatened to escape. When calm and collected didn’t work, they always went with indignant rage. He sold it well, but it was too predictable. If he ever wanted to make it past his station, he really had to become a better liar.

Medb let her small smile widened, taking a step closer to the senator.

“Proof? Proof like your investments in several labor-intensive industries that have been losing many of their workers to Rome and the legions?” she said, holding up her hand when he started to protest again. “I know, I know, there’s nothing in your name that shows you have any investments like that. Your wife’s brother, however, has quite a few, although it’s not clear where he received the large amount of coin he used to buy into those businesses. It’s also interesting that they are all in several labor-intensive industries within Ulaid. The largest among them is the vast grazing lands for sheep, producing wool that you sell to the empire.”

He closed his mouth, the protest dying on his lips. She could see his brain churning, trying to come up with a lie to explain it all away. Or maybe just wondering how she could possibly know all of this.

“It’s hard to keep track of all the lies, isn’t it?” she whispered to him conspiratorially.

Fiacha’s face paled, but he quickly regained his composure. “You’re grasping at straws, Medb. So far, you’ve just spewed accusations, without proof of anything. Besides, your word means nothing anymore. You’re a traitor, twice over. No one will believe the ravings of a desperate woman.”

“Come now, Senator,” she said, shifting her tone to an almost sultry purr. “Did you really think you could keep this going forever?”

Fiacha’s face twisted into a scowl. “You overreach yourself, woman. I’ve had enough of your baseless accusations.”

His finely woven léine swirled around him dramatically as he turned on his heel and stormed away. She had spooked him, which was good. He’d be jumpy now, looking for whoever gave away his secrets. For now, she would let his own festering paranoia continue the work for her, priming him.

As she watched him disappear into the crowd, she considered her next moves. She had to be careful. She couldn’t push him so hard that he retreated entirely. Ramirus might have enough to convince the empress of Fiacha’s duplicity, but Conchobar would need more, and Ramirus made it clear they needed both leaders’ approval to do something about the senator.

That was a tall order, considering Fiacha’s family had long-running connections with the king. Fiacha’s uncle had funded Conchobar’s rise to power, and the king owed the family much. It wasn’t impossible, though. Now that she’d spoken to him, got a better sense of the man, the specifics of her plan began to take shape.

As she turned and re-entered the palace, a genuine smile crept across her face. This would be fun.