The Triumph of Venus - Chapter 13

Northern Italy

Ky broke off mid sentence as the flap to his command tent was pushed aside, revealing a dust-covered Aelius, looking weary from the road. Both he and Marcus, whom Ky had been speaking with, turned to the ninth legion legate as the man entered.

“Aelius, welcome to Italia,” Ky said, stepping forward to grasp the new arrival’s arm. “I hope the journey wasn’t too arduous.”

“The roads are clear at least, Consul,” Aelius replied, grasping Ky’s forearm in the Roman version of a handshake. “But the people... that’s another matter.”

“I received your messengers, but I’d like to hear it from you first-hand,” Ky said. “Do you need refreshment or anything before you start? I know the road has already turned hot.”

“No, Consul, thank you,” Aelius said. “As instructed, we stopped at the first major village in Italia, the one you reported as empty when the main force came through a month ago. It was reoccupied, and I brought forward only one century of men, in hopes that I would not create an incident. Clearly, my hope was wrong, for which I apologize. The leaders of the village were instantly hostile as soon as we arrived. We reiterated our goal of only assisting them, and not occupying their village as invaders, but they would have none of it. Before our conversation concluded, they attacked us without warning. It was madness. My men were armed and armored, and they came at us with farming implements, knives, and even stones. There were too many of them to attempt to deescalate. I’m sorry to report that I was forced to use more lethal measures as I fought my way out of town. Even with that, and the casualties caused, they continued to attack, like wild animals. A few of my men were injured before we retreated from the village.”

Aelius paused. Ky could see the scene playing out in the legate’s head, and his regret at having lost control. Aelius was a good man, and Ky knew he took failure personally.

“I brought up the rest of the cohort and returned, imposing martial law on the village, and trying to treat the injured and dying as best I could, while rounding up the instigators, but the damage has been done. It is unlikely we will ever find a friend in that village in our lifetimes. I apologize, Consul. I failed you.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too badly, Aelius. We have had numerous similar failures of our own, which is why you were sent for in the first place. Marcus and I were, in fact, just discussing this very problem when you arrived.” Ky said, before turning to Marcus, “Would you mind sharing what you were telling me with Aelius?”

“Certainly,” the legate said. “As the Consul said, what you encountered is what we have been struggling with across Italia. The people see us as invaders, not liberators, and have been resisting us as such. It seems they view the Carthaginians as the ‘true’ rulers of Italia. The war our ancestors fought and Roman rule of this area were a long time ago, well outside of any living memory, and they don’t see us as Romans, or even a Roman legacy. While this was true in other areas, such as Hispania, which continued to resist Carthaginian rule in spite of that, here, it seems they’ve come to embrace that rule. We thought offers of assistance might show them we were different, but clearly, that hasn’t worked either.”

“Clearly not,” Aelius said. “You had another thought, I take it?”

“I do. I think the Consul was on the right track but didn’t go far enough. At least, not far enough to convince them we were serious. Instead of simply offering help and then leaving again, we should establish a permanent presence in the major villages. For now, it would have to be a large force, meaning a century at a time, to keep the villagers from acting impulsively and attacking us, but make ourselves permanent, or at least semi-permanent. At first, we will probably have to set up secure camps outside the villages, again for safety, but ultimately the goal would be to rent or build a large enough structure in town that we can operate as part of their community, not as outsiders. And we don’t just offer to fix things, since they’ve had any offers turned down before, but start fixing things that need doing on our own. We have to make sure we are there to assist, and not act as guards watching over a prison. We can patrol and assist the village with security as they request it, but otherwise, we leave that to the villagers. Instead, we focus on tangible and visible things we can build and repair, making it known again and again that we are there only to help. Start being beneficial to the community.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Aelius replied, looking skeptical. “We’ll get hate at first.”

“Of course we will,” Marcus agreed. “But if we start solving problems and making these people’s lives easier, it will start to change minds.”

“The phrase I believe you’re looking for is we will begin a campaign of ‘hearts and minds,’” Ky offered, repeating the words Sophus fed to him, although lacking the history behind the phrase the AI included. “It’s been attempted before, with mixed results. A lot depends on how many insurgents remain in the surrounding hills, and what actions they take. We will have to still patrol the surrounding areas, removing as many remaining Carthaginian elements as possible to keep them from poisoning the well, as it were.”

“Exactly so, and our assistance will need to do more than just small things. The projects will have to be large enough that they can’t be ignored or taken down easily by the disaffected, but important enough that they can’t be seen as just monument building by conquerors,” Marcus continued. “We’ll also need to put in requisitions for larger amounts of supplies, and soon, since the levels we’ll need are greater than what we have on hand. In time, I imagine we can buy much of what we’ll need locally, further helping our credibility by putting gold into their hands outside of charity, but I wouldn’t want to rely on that right away. I imagine much we attempt to buy now will be either unavailable or otherwise tainted or damaged to ensure failure on our part.”

“It might work,” Aelius conceded, “but, based on what I encountered, even with enough men positioned at each major village, we’re going to have run-ins, probably violent ones, before we start convincing anyone to accept our help, or even believe we mean what we’re offering.”

“That’s true,” Ky admitted, “but we’re having run-ins now. Violent ones. This is still the best plan I’ve heard so far. Changing minds rarely is easy, but it’s the only way we’re going to secure our rear from constant insurrection. I’m pulling Auspex’s legion back to assist you, which will give you two and a half legions to spread along the villages stretching back to Gaul. I will stay here with you for a little while longer, and leave the push south to Bomilcar and the seventh legion, although as we reach Rome, I’m going to have to shift my flag south.”

Ky stopped and considered, working through the disposition of men and forces, Sophus overlaying maps and positioning across Ky’s vision as he worked out specifics. He saw the look that passed between the legates as he fell silent, staring off into seemingly nothing, but they’d seen him do this before. For now, they still considered it just one of his foibles as a commander, which he was willing to accept.

“I know you’re senior, Aelius, but I would like to put Marcus in overall command of coordinating your various efforts and making sure all of the units we scatter will have enough supplies to get the job done,” Ky finally said. “Hopefully, this will secure enough of our rear that we can start moving south again and catch back up to our original timetable. If you do see success and we’re able to reduce our forces, I plan on pulling both you and Auspex out, bringing your men to Africa and leaving Marcus behind, if he’s still needed. Hopefully by that point, Cormac will have had success and you will have your remaining cohorts freed up and sent to join you.”

“If we don’t, that will leave you with one legion for pushing out the last of the Carthaginians,” Marcus said, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

“I know,” Ky replied, his tone grim. “But one legion and a secure rear is better than three legions with absolute chaos and no reasonable supply lines beyond what we can ship, which is still too limited for large-scale operations at this distance. We’ll have to make it work.”

“Understood, Consul. We will make this work,” Aelius said.

“I know you will,” Ky replied. “Now, go get some rest. You’ve been on the road all day, and your men are probably worn out. Marcus will begin drawing up plans and we can discuss details again tomorrow.”

***

Devnum

The knock at the door made Lucilla jump.

She had been sitting, not in the dark, but at least alone, thinking for almost an hour. Since her conversation with Ky, she had stepped up her efforts to find men to help with defense in Italia, and she had hit a brick wall every time. She still had feelers out, but none felt promising. She had been going through lists of more and more untenable plans, not committing them to paper or even saying them out loud to Sophus because of how bad the ideas had been. But she was desperate for a way to help Ky, to protect him, and her brain couldn’t let go of the problem.

“Enter,” she commanded, sitting up in her chair.

The heavy oak door swung open, and Lucilla was surprised to see both Fiacha, the senior Uliad senator, and Roti, senior Caledonian senator, coming through her door together.

While there wasn’t animosity between the two peoples, which were in truth more alike each other than they were her own people, these two in particular had never gotten along. Something about their personalities didn’t mix, and she’d watched several times as they’d sent proxies to negotiate with the other rather than speaking to each other one on one.

To see them together was… concerning.

“Please, sit,” she said, gesturing to the chairs across from her desk. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit from both of you together?”

The men exchanged a brief, uneasy glance before Roti cleared his throat. “We come bearing the responses from our respective leaders to your recent requests for additional manpower.”

“I see. And what was their response?” Lucilla asked, preparing herself for disappointment.

“I am afraid both have declined to provide more direct aid at this time,” Roti said.

“Both of our peoples have been devastated by the fight against the Carthaginians already, to a lesser or greater degree,” Fiacha said, eliciting a frown and a side-eyed glance from Roti, who recognized the last sentence for the cheap shot it was. “We’ve also both given up large amounts of manpower already, limiting our ability to recover from those deprivations, not to mention needing to do the work needed to simply maintain our populaces. We did so under promises of technological marvels that would help our people become more efficient, which would require less manpower than ever before.”

“I believe we have delivered on our promise in many ways,” Lucilla pointed out.

This was not a new argument, and all three knew the steps to this dance already.

“In some small ways, perhaps,” Roti said. “But for every small advancement we’re given, more men are taken. Just as you have proposed this time. Which means instead of improving our conditions, we remain in the same place, while Rome experiences a renewal.”

He waved his arms around, as if to illustrate his point. She knew he meant Devnum specifically, which was undergoing near-constant expansion at the moment. Ramirus had men in both of their capitals who reported regularly on the state of them, all of whom reported a very different state of affairs than what Roti suggested. Neither’s homelands were stagnant. Both were experiencing large-scale growth, just as Devnum had.

But that wasn’t as defensible of a position. What mattered was that Talogren and Conchobar had said no. She could have probably traveled to them and strong-armed them out of more men, both being less willing to say no to her in person, which is why they’d sent word through proxies. Talogren, at the very least, could have sent a message directly to her on the telegraph line that was extended north to the Caledonian capital over the winter.

He just chose not to.

She didn’t blame either leader for their power play. Getting the best possible deal for their people is what a leader is supposed to do, and it was probably what she would have done in their place. She had just hoped to avoid it until after they’d secured their victory against Carthage.

“While I understand the burden placed on your populations, this war impacts us all,” she began delicately. “If Carthage defeats Rome, they will surely turn their eye northward. No land will be safe.”

Roti and Fiacha made nearly identical expressions.

“I know, I know,” she said, holding up a placating hand. “I won’t lecture you on that again, no matter how true it is. Let me ask you, how likely would they be to offer assistance if we found other ways to solve the issue of manpower at home? While we have given you every technological advantage we have made, if you were, for instance, to give us a list of specific areas you faced the greatest manpower shortages, perhaps we could focus our efforts more in that direction. Channel advancements for your people specifically. I know it can seem that, right now, most advancements have been made with Rome in mind first, and your people second, and I can admit that would be a fair argument. But I think it might be because we are focusing on what we see. If the lines of communication were better, and we had a better idea of what both your people need, we could target advancements more to your challenges. If we did this, and showed an impact from them, how likely do you think it would be to change their minds?”

Lucilla knew it was a straw man argument. She’d introduced an issue neither had raised so she could shoot that issue down, as a form of compromise, but she’d heard enough rumblings to know that it was something they’d complained about to others. She hoped that would give it some weight of validity.

Roti hesitated, his lips compressing into a tight line. “With respect, Your Majesty, the problem lies with more than a mere lack of communication. While I know Talogren has made similar deals with you in the past, this time I think it’s unlikely.”

She gave a small nod and looked to Fiacha, who shook his head vigorously.

“No. I’m sorry, no. No matter of promises or even some small token will change my king’s mind. Short of a world-changing piece of advancement, I can’t imagine anything you could offer that would. And even then, I would bet against your chances.”

“In this, we’re in agreement,” Roti said. “The cost of this war has been borne by too many of our people, and we can bear no more. I’m sorry, but if you need more men, you’re going to have to find them somewhere else.”

Lucilla offered a tight-lipped smile and said, “I understand your concerns and will convey your messages to their respective leaders. Thank you both for your time and effort in considering my request.”

Fiacha and Roti stood, nodding in unison before turning to leave. As the heavy oak door closed behind them, Lucilla let out a sigh and flopped back in her chair. She rubbed her temples, attempting to alleviate the tension building in her forehead. Now she was just left with Yrsa and the Scandi. In spite of his protestations, she had great faith in the overly-large captain’s ability to convince his countrymen. What seemed unlikely, though, was that even a willing Scandi people could produce enough manpower to make up the difference Ky needed.

She needed yet another option, and she was quickly running out of ideas.

***

Northern Italy

Sextus wiped the sweat from his brow as he worked alongside his men, replacing the worn thatching on the roof of the small house. They had been at it for hours, and the midday sun beat down on them relentlessly.

“This isn’t necessary. I told you we were fine,” the villager, who Sextus learned was named Sicanius, called up to him.

The man had said the same thing every ten minutes since Sextus and his men had started working, and the Decanus gave the villager the same reply he’d given every time.

“It’s no trouble, really. Like I told you, we’re here to help,” he said, gesturing to the group of legionaries working alongside him. “Besides, it gives us a break from drills and marching.”

Marcus grumbled something under his breath, and Sextus went back to ignoring him. He knew the people here could be hostile. He’d been involved in several skirmishes already with malcontents set on driving the Britannians out with pitchforks and shovels, but he’d hoped this posting would be different.

Instead of marching in and setting up operations, the Centurion had them set up a small, fortified encampment out of town. Every day he’d march the century into the village and offer the villagers help. When they’d refused, the Century had simply told them he would be in the area, patrolling and keeping the roads safe, and helping where they saw the opportunity. He’d then ordered his men to find any places they could help, and to pitch in.

At first, everyone had been openly hostile. While they were still fairly hostile, things had calmed over the last week. Sextus didn’t know if it was just a growing familiarity with the Britannians, seeing not just soldiers, but the same faces, day after day, or an actual realization that they weren’t here to hurt them, but it had made things a little better.

Of course, he wouldn’t know that from how negative Sicanius had been when he’d come to offer help repairing the man’s roof. Every day for the last week, he’d looked at the roof slowly collapsing, and had finally gotten permission to take the rest of his contubernium to repair it.

The work itself wasn’t all that grueling, and no worse than some of the things he’d had to do as a servant on the latifundium, working to maintain the estate. And here, at least his work helped an average person, instead of the wealthy estate owner Sextus never even met.

Within the next hour, the house started to take shape. The once-tattered roof was now covered in fresh, tightly packed thatch, the golden hue of the new material a stark contrast to the faded brown of the old. Sextus felt pride in a job well done, slapping one of his men on the back as the group looked up at their finished work.

“Good job. Very well done,” he told them.

Behind him, Sicanius threw his hands up in exasperation. “I told you, we didn’t need any help! My roof was fine.”

“With respect, your roof was in poor shape. The thatch was worn and the supports were cracked in places. I really was only concerned about your safety. I’ve marched by here almost every day for the last week, and I couldn’t help but notice the roof was in such bad shape. I was afraid it would collapse on you and your family. I apologize for taking so long to come and fix it, but we had to requisition supplies, and it took some time for them to arrive.”

“I don’t want your charity,” Sicanius protested.

“That’s why it’s help, not charity. You didn’t have to ask for it. We were told to help out this village and others in the area in any way we could, and so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Are you sure there’s no price to be paid?” Sicanius asked, his eyes narrowing, his face sinking into a worried expression. “My children... my wife... will they be taken?”

A sudden realization hit Sextus, filling the Decanus with revulsion and disgust. This was the kind of ‘help’ the Carthaginians must have offered, with strings attached that bound the villagers in servitude and fear.

Sextus recoiled. “Gods, no! I want you to understand, Sicanius, we’re truly here to help. We’re not looking to take anything from you or the other villagers. Our goal is to make your lives easier and safer, not to burden you with more hardship.”

“If you’re sure,” Sicanius said, looking up at his new roof almost hopefully.

“I am. Enjoy your new roof. I should warn you that me and my men aren’t skilled tradesmen, and other than Darius there, none of us has ever rethatched a roof. If you have any problems with it, please come find me or any of my men and we will do our best to correct them.”

“I... will,” Sicanius said, almost hesitantly.

“Good. And if you or any of your neighbors need anything else, please do ask us. I promise, we are not here to make your lives worse and, if we can, we really do want to make it better.”

He clasped Sicanius’s arm in farewell, then turned to gather his men, who had already collected their equipment, one of them handing over armor and rifle. They left the villager standing there, staring up at his house in almost slack-jawed amazement.

Sextus spent the walk back to the fortified encampment thinking about what the man had said. About what he’d feared, now even more bewildered by the locals’ near pathological support of the Carthaginians. How anyone could support rulers that displayed the level of cruelty the Carthaginians obviously had, based on what Sicanius had obviously feared, Sextus would never know.

Hopefully, Sicanius would eventually accept that they really were there just to help, and maybe even tell others about it. Maybe then they’d stop trying to ambush the Britannians and finally start to work with them.