The Triumph of Venus - Chapter 10

Carthage

Emperor Imilcar Azor sat upon his golden throne, his face an impassive mask as he awaited the arrival of General Hadar and this mysterious visitor from the east. Though outwardly calm, irritation simmered within him at the presumptuousness of this meeting being called on such short notice. Not even his most senior advisors and generals would dare demand an audience with the Emperor of Carthage in such a brazen manner.

Worse yet, he was forced to hold that anger in, instead of venting it on those who annoyed him. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the waiting or not having someone flogged to release his annoyance.

Unfortunately, this had been a problem of his own making. It had been his idea to send Hadar off on the task of building an alliance with their eastern allies. Based on the emperor’s previous failures, he had assumed this would be a folly, one worth attempting but unlikely to achieve success. Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined the general would not only succeed but succeed so quickly. And yet a messenger had arrived three days ago with word that the General was on the way, and he was bringing an emissary from the far east. He had been gone long enough, maybe, to reach India by ship, but no further. How he’d managed to not only contact these people but arrange for an emissary to return and negotiate, Imilcar would never know.

What mattered was that an hour ago he received word that their expedition was nearing Carthage and Hadar’s party would be coming straight there. Normally, Imilcar would have kept them waiting, to start the negotiations off on the right foot, but he was so shocked that they were here at all and, frankly, desperate for the help they might give, that he was willing to allow the breach in protocol.

Although allowing it didn’t help his mood.

Finally, the large gilded doors at the other end of the audience chamber opened, a guard announcing General Hadar’s party. Imilcar ignored the general, his attention focused on the strange-looking man in flowing robes of deep blue next to him. The man had narrow, thin eyes and a skin tone that was almost as bronze as his own people’s, showing weathering from long exposure to the sun, yet his nose and cheeks were almost small and delicate.

“Your Eminence,” Hadar said, bowing. “May I present an honored guest and emissary from the eastern lands of TianYou.”

The man’s bow was slight, more of a nod than a bow, “Greetings, Your Majesty. I bring you well wishes from my master, the immortal Zhangdi, The First Emperor, Shi Huangdi, Son of the Heavens, ruler of TianYou. He has heard your request for an agreement between our peoples and sends his humble servant to treat with your great personage.”

Imilcar pushed down a renewed surge of annoyance at the man’s arrogance. If he didn’t need these people, this might be different, but he did need them. Without the weapons they were already providing, this war would certainly be lost.

Instead of scolding the man for his insolence, he asked, “What is your name, emissary?”

“I am but a humble servant, not blessed with a name of my own, Your Majesty. I am simply the voice of the great Shi Huangdi.”

Imilcar frowned slightly and looked to Hadar. “Tell me, General, how did you manage to make contact with these... TianYou?”

“We intercepted one of the latest supply shipments from the east, Your Eminence, and this man was among them. He was first identified as an emissary from the east, and we approached him to find out the best way to reach his homeland and contact the rulers there. He claimed he could speak for Shi Huangdi regarding an alliance. I didn’t believe it at first, of course, but the caravan was dispatched from their capital and carrying their supplies, and they swore that he was who he said he was. Every one of these merchants deferred to him, which… is saying something.”

“How fortunate he just happened to be on that shipment,” Imilcar said, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “And that you could speak our language.”

“It was no mere fortune,” the emissary replied evenly. “I was already traveling toward your empire, in hopes of learning more about the situation here. The Son of the Heavens has an interest in these Romans and dispatched me to investigate reports of these Romans. We hoped to gain information about a potential new threat and I was one of the voices sent to learn your language from the merchants and caravans who traded with you, which is why I was dispatched on this mission. When your general conveyed your wish for an alliance, it was clear both of our peoples sought the same thing, and I asked to be brought before you.”

Imilcar considered the man, weighing his words before speaking again. “Did General Hadar confirm our wishes for an alliance to this Shi Huangdi?”

“He did. Alliances, however, come in many forms. My emperor would like to know what the mighty Carthaginian empire has to offer for such an alliance, and what you seek to receive in exchange.”

“We wish for more. More fire powder. Access to weapons we believe you have. Anything that your artisans might have designed or created that could help us defeat the Romans once and for all.”

“We already trade gunpowder with you. Is that not enough?” the emissary said.

“It is not enough. Yes, your people have already traded us the fire... gunpowder, but we have found it lacks the strength of the powder the Romans use in their weapons,” Imilcar said. “What’s more, we have witnessed their metal tubes that hurl deadly projectiles great distances and we know this gunpowder is used in these metal tubes. I believe your people already know of these weapons and your artisans are already capable of creating them. That is what we want. Weapons equal to the ones the Romans possess, to put us on an even footing with them. As for what we offer, your emperor has but to name it. Most importantly, we offer the knowledge that we would have stopped the Romans, who you yourself just said have begun encroaching further east. If not stopped, they will spread until they control the entire world, your people included. Supporting our efforts is the same as supporting your own, in this regard.”

The emissary tilted his head, as if listening to a voice only he could hear, and said, “To properly assess your request, I must examine these Roman weapons myself, if I may.”

Imilcar considered the request, before waving to a nearby attendant, who hurried off. He, Hadar, and the emissary sat, or stood, in their case, in uncomfortable silence as the minutes stretched. The unbothered expression on the emissary’s face infuriated Imilcar. The man was so unbothered by their plight, Imilcar wanted to shake him, throttle the man until he understood the seriousness of the subject. Instead, he sat and tried not to glare until finally the attendant returned with one of the captured Roman rifles. The attendant brought the weapon to General Hadar, who took the weapon and presented it to the emissary with both hands.

The man grasped the rifle, turning it over with interest, running his hands across the wood and metal, which was finely crafted, although dented and scarred from the battle where it had been captured. He began murmuring under his breath in a foreign tongue, the words a rapid-fire jumble of sounds and syllables. For a moment, Imilcar thought perhaps he was talking to Hadar, who must have learned the language, but the general looked equally perplexed. Finally, the man stopped speaking and looked up at Imilcar.

“To equip your legions with such arms, we require numerous examples to study, along with any other advanced weapons the Romans possess. I have been instructed to be candid with you, Your Excellency. While our artisans are unparalleled, and we have developed some weapons similar to the ones you’ve described, they cannot yet produce such intricate mechanisms. Given some time and more examples such as this, however, we can reproduce them.”

Imilcar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You claim your weaponsmiths can reproduce these rifles if provided examples? Yet why have you not crafted such arms already for your own forces?”

The man paused, his head cocked to one side again as if he were hearing something no one else could hear, before saying, “No. We do possess firearms similar to this, but without some of the advances this one has. If given enough samples of the Roman weapons, our artisans can recreate and even improve on their designs. The more examples of these weapons you give us, the faster we would be able to reproduce them.”

“You ask much of us,” Imilcar said slowly. “To hand over our precious few captured Roman weapons, on the faith your people can reproduce them. What guarantee do we have that you simply won’t take these rifles and leave us empty-handed?”

The emissary bowed his head respectfully. “A fair concern, Your Excellency. To prove our capabilities, we will provide an initial shipment of our own firearms called cannons. They are the weapons you described, capable of hurling iron balls great distances, as you requested. We will also be willing to trade more of these as well, beyond making available any new weapons we design from the Roman examples you provide us. Furthermore, we ask that you provide us with all the examples of Roman weapons you can acquire, along with any samples of their gunpowder.”

Imilcar was silent for a moment, considering, before slowly starting to nod.

“And how soon could you deliver the additional gunpowder and these new cannons of yours to us if we turn over our supply of Roman weapons?”

“In exchange, the first shipment of cannons and an ample supply of our gunpowder will sail from Xianyang within a week, while the sailing routes are still open. I have already discussed with your General Hadar the need to use either overland routes when the sea lanes are closed or sea lanes through the Red Sea, due to Roman ships. We will continue to stagger shipments of these weapons, as long as you are willing to buy them, on the condition you continue to supply us with captured Roman weapons,” the man paused again, listening. “While we know the possibility of acquiring one of the Romans’ new ship designs is unlikely, we ask for as many records and descriptions of these as possible. We have already seen the new sail that you have put on your galleys and understand these to be of Roman design. We ask that, in exchange for the continuation and increase of shipments of weapons, any Roman inventions that seem new or unusual, both military and not, be provided to us as you acquire them.”

Imilcar was amazed enough to barely notice the second half of what the man said. This unnamed messenger had been so careful up to this moment, but he played his hand. To have a shipment ready within the week meant they knew all along they would make this deal. Everything else, the posturing, the dithering, it had been for show.

He knew it was for show, of course. All diplomacy was, but to have it confirmed was another thing entirely. It meant they were as desperate for the captured Roman weapons as the Carthaginians were for their... gunpowder and cannon, he supposed the name was. He would give them what they asked for now because ultimately he wanted them to be able to duplicate these weapons, so they could sell them to Carthage. His artisans had looked at them, even taken several apart, and found the workings beyond their skills, even after he had several skinned alive to motivate the rest.

So yes, he’d hand over the weapons, this time. He would make sure his people knew to get as many of the other Roman inventions as they could. Those would be a new bargaining chip for an even better deal, since now he knew what these foreigners truly coveted.

“Very well,” the emperor finally said. “I will order my men to turn over the weapons we have acquired. General Hadar, see to it.”

He would have to pull Hadar aside later and make sure when he said the weapons they acquired, he only meant the ones currently in their possession. Hadar was a loyal man, but he could be too simple at times, relying on the words alone and missing the subtext.

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” the emissary said, bowing for the first time. “In the name of my emperor, I wish for a long and prosperous relationship between our two peoples.”

Imilcar was certain neither of them believed that last part for even a moment.

***

Northern Italy

Ky rode into the sprawling camp of the Seventh Legion, waved through by sentries without stopping. All around him, legionnaires went about their duties - fetching water, mending gear, drilling formations. A light rain began to fall as Ky threaded his way between orderly rows of leather tents, focused on the large command pavilion flying the scarlet banner of a senior officer.

Dismounting, Ky handed the reins to a waiting orderly and strode inside past the sentry. His arrival had been so abrupt the poor man had no time to warn the man he was guarding that his commander was there. Ky felt pity for him, but the last several days had been long, and Ky had little patience for the niceties of command at the moment.

The spacious tent was warm and well-lit, but stark and barren, a fitting style for the man whose tent this was.

“Consul,” Bomilcar said, standing from the camp stool he’d been seated on, reading what looked like a lengthy report. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“No need. I came unannounced, and you have duties to attend to,” Ky said, and then abruptly changed topics. “Have you had a chance to see the news on the uprising?”

“The attack on the telegraph station?” Bomilcar asked, rhetorically. “Yes, I’ve seen it. I’m deeply sorry for the loss of your men. I know you value each life under your command.”

“Thank you. I won’t lie and say their deaths haven’t affected me, but we have a bigger issue on hand. While I grieve for them, I cannot let it distract me.”

Bomilcar gave a small, sad nod. He was one of the few who’d truly understand Ky’s meaning. The burden of command often didn’t allow for retrospection or mourning, which could often be misinterpreted as indifference. Ky knew Bomilcar would understand the opposite was true. If he was to keep more men from suffering the same fate, he had to stay calm and do his duty, even if it seemed callous at the time.

“I understand,” Bomilcar said.

“You warned me this was going to happen, but I was too confident. Too sure I could keep pressing forward and force the locals into line, even after so many fled their villages rather than deal with us, I’d been certain we could make it work.”

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t work for certain, only that it seemed the most likely outcome,” Bomilcar said. “There was a chance your plan could have worked.”

“Don’t start patronizing me now,” Ky said. “The fact that you’ve always said what needed to be said plainly, regardless of my ego, is one of the things I like the most about you. Don’t become a politician now.”

“I apologize,” Bomilcar said, offering a rare smile.

“So tell me what you need to tell me.”

“It was never going to work,” Bomilcar said plainly. “There’s too much land and the unrest is too great. This was the biggest problem facing Carthage in their expansions - they had to have men stationed every step they took, requiring larger and larger forces.”

“I know, but that was different. Carthage came as conquerors, to rule and control the lives of people whose territory they took. We didn’t come here to conquer Italy, only to remove Carthage as a threat. We were willing to let them rule themselves.”

Bomilcar raised an eyebrow. “From the Italians’ point of view, you were still invaders. And the offer to ‘govern themselves’ came with the caveat that they do it in the way the Britannians wanted. To your restrictions. That kind of ‘permission’ isn’t much different than ruling directly.”

Ky’s face darkened at the criticism. Bomilcar had a point, even if Ky didn’t want to admit it.

Seeing his commander’s reaction, Bomilcar relented. “I know it isn’t the same. The Britannian way is more just. In time, the people will come to see the benefits of what you’re offering here, and help the process instead of hinder it. But that isn’t going to happen overnight.”

“So what are you suggesting we do now?” Ky asked.

Bomilcar let out a slow breath before responding. “We can’t do much more than we are already doing. We’ll have to continue spreading our forces thin, pushing south to gain control of the entire peninsula.”

Ky’s heart sank. That was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to hear.

“We don’t have to stop with Italy. We can work with Valdar to take some of the islands between the continent and Africa as well,” Bomilcar continued. “That will further isolate Carthage while we focus on replenishing our manpower.”

“Which means letting this war drag on for at least another full year,” Ky said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“I can’t say for certain. I hope it won’t take that long, but...”

“Absolutely not,” Ky cut him off. “I will not accept waiting around that long.”

“This isn’t about acceptance, it’s about facing reality,” Bomilcar said bluntly. “We simply don’t have the resources right now to launch a full assault on Carthage itself.”

Ky bit off the first words that sprang to his mind. Bomilcar was only doing what Ky had asked him to do, and he wasn’t wrong, but this war had already gone on far too long in his mind. The thought of it stretching out even longer was maddening.

“There has to be another way,” he insisted, almost desperately.

“I’m not saying it will come to that. There is a chance something can happen in our favor, and we can free up enough men to continue the campaign, and we can do as much as possible to help that possibility along. We can keep trying to make peace with the local villages, quell the unrest as we continue pushing south. If we can convert, or at least pacify, some of them, it will free up more of our forces. We should also press our allies harder for additional support. If we can convince them to send more men to help pacify the countryside, it would release our legions for the invasion.”

“So more of what we have been doing,” Ky said, more as a statement than a question.

“Yes. If we can achieve even one of those things, then we may be in a position to finally strike Africa sooner than expected,” Bomilcar concluded. “I would just caution not to count on it or try and force that outcome, regardless of the prerequisites we meet.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he knew the man was right. Rushing ahead when they weren’t ready would only lead to more bloodshed and failure. Either way, they wouldn’t beat the Carthaginians this year.

“Very well,” Ky said finally. “We will continue on as we have been. Spreading the legions thin, securing territory as we move south, and working to pacify the local populations.”

“I’m sorry, I know it is not the outcome you hoped for, but it is the prudent course.”

“I know,” Ky said heavily. “I’m not blaming you for things being as they are. I’m only frustrated.”

“All wars must end eventually,” Bomilcar said gently. “We will get there, one step at a time.”

“If we’re going to do this slower, at least until we can get more men in the field, I want to do it right. The handful of men at that telegraph station was far too few to deal with the number of people in the village. If we’re going to do this, then we need to reinforce their numbers. I don’t want to lose any more men to uprisings.”

“A reasonable precaution.”

“I want you to send two of your cohorts to join the ones already strung along the line,” Ky ordered. “That should help deter further attacks without stripping our frontline forces too badly.”

“I will see to it immediately.”

“Good,” Ky said. “This doesn’t mean we’re giving up on converting at least a few of these villages. Pick some men as negotiators, you know the kind of men I mean, men who won’t make problems worse and have at least some chance of convincing the locals we mean no harm. Send them to the largest villages. Let’s see if we can’t start making some progress on pacifying things at least a little bit.”

“Of course, Consul.”

Ky turned to take his leave, but paused at the tent entrance. “And Bomilcar... thank you for your counsel. I know I can be stubborn at times, but I appreciate you telling me what I need to hear, not just what I want to hear.”

Bomilcar inclined his head graciously. “It is my duty and privilege to serve, Consul.”

***

Devnum

Lucilla made her way into the forum, already steeling herself for what she had no doubt would be a battle. Already assembled on the carved stone benches when she arrived were the senate delegations from Caledonia and Ulaid, all looking in various stages of displeasure.

For once, she didn’t blame them for their attitude. She imagined it would be concerning to assemble at the request of their empress to find only their two delegations present while the Roman delegation was conspicuously absent. From their point of view, it would be difficult not to presume some sort of trap.

As she entered, Rotie, the senior senator from Caledonia, and Fiacha sil Fingin, the leader of the Ulaid delegation, rose and stepped forward, bowing respectfully. While it wasn’t the tradition of Roman senators, the new imperial senate had developed its own style and traditions, and she bowed back to them, matching theirs precisely.

The men retreated to their seats while she took her place in the center square that marked the middle of the open forum floor.

“My friends, I have asked you here today for a serious matter. Spring has arrived and with it our legions have taken to the field again, even now marching through Italia on their way to Africa and Carthage. The gods willing, this will be our last year of war and we can finally transition our empire to one of peace. For that to happen, however, we need you more than ever. You are all familiar with the challenges we have faced in this war, most notably our lack of manpower. Until now, we have been able to circumvent a lot of that deficit by the use of the technology the Consul has brought us, which has allowed our small forces to not only stand up to a significantly stronger Carthaginian military but prevail time and time again.”

The senators made mumbling noises, but she could see nods and looks of pride. Although these men were predisposed to doubt and question everything in their constant struggle for one-upmanship and dominance, they were no more immune to pride over their armies’ good works than anyone else in the empire.

“I know you’ve heard me give this speech before, and are already preparing your reasons for why this year there are no more men to spare, that you can’t afford them to be gone all year and miss the harvest, or that there isn’t time to train them on fighting with rifles in order to make a difference to our overall strength. This time, there is a difference. What I’m asking for is not more men for the legions themselves, because you’re right, there is not sufficient time to train them in our new tactics and equip them with rifles to deploy before, gods willing, this war is over.”

“If not the legions, then what do you require men for?” Enniaun, one of the Caledonian senators, asked.

“As we push closer to Carthage itself, our supply lines have grown long and vulnerable. We have moved beyond liberating friendly lands into hostile territory. The legions have been forced to spread out to guard our telegraph and supply lines back into friendly territory. As a result, our frontline forces grow dangerously thin and exposed. At the rate units are being divided up and assigned patrol and guard duty, by the time we catch up to the retreating Carthaginians in Italia or cross over into Africa, we won’t be able to field one Cohort, let alone a full legion.”

Murmurs rippled through the assembled senators, and she could tell she hadn’t convinced them yet.

Pressing on, she said, “What I need are men to help patrol these rear areas, and keep the local populaces under control while the legions push forward. While not without dangers, it would spare them from direct confrontation with enemy armies.”

“And what happens after the war?” Brandubh, a Ulaid senator, asked. “In a far-off land, under the command, if not actually part of the legions themselves, how are we to know you won’t just use them to swell your ranks?”

“Because they wouldn’t be trained for the legions. The way of warfare has changed. While we hope this is the last war of this scale we will face, we are not naive enough to believe conflict will end with this war. We have armed many of the tribes on the continent with firearms, making them much more deadly than they were before. When we do have problems with groups on the continent in the future, and that is an inevitability when dealing with any collection of societies each with their own desires, we aren’t going to have the advantage of firearms against spears. Which means after this war there will be almost no use for forces trained in the old ways of war. If we wanted to keep your people under arms, we’d have to train them. That’s a lot of time and effort for people who don’t want to be there.”

“Which isn’t the same as saying you won’t keep them,” he said.

“I was trying to give you reasoning, so you did not have to trust only my words, but if it makes you unhappy,” she said, and paused to make the words separate and clear. “We won’t keep them.”

She knew that was probably a mistake. She needed to convince three out of each set of five to agree to her plan, which means she didn’t have room to alienate any of them, which she might have done with Brandubh, who frowned at her quip. His frown got worse as several of his fellow senators chuckled at his expense.

She raised a hand to settle them back down. “These men would simply serve as a stopgap measure until proper order can be restored. They would return home as soon as the war ends and the legions can be redeployed.”

“How long you keep the men is not the issue,” Fiacha said. “You ask for more blood after years of sacrifice. Our lands are still ravaged from the wars, our people weary of loss.”

“I understand better than most the burdens this war has placed upon us all, which is why this is needed now more than ever. We are on the verge of ending the entire thing. They’ve already shown they can, to some degree, copy our gunpowder. If we wait, let them recuperate and study our new weapons more, they will come back stronger and we will no longer have the advantage we once did. We are also not asking you to sacrifice your own people’s needs. There are things coming that will lessen the burdens when your people return home. The new railway system about to transform trade and agriculture across Britannia and the telegraph, speeding up communication, and thereby your industry. These, and more we are still perfecting, will enable you to contribute more warriors because fewer will be needed for daily work.”

“But that hasn’t happened yet,” Rotie said. “You’re asking for a commitment of men today based on efficiencies you will provide us tomorrow.”

“You’re not wrong,” she admitted. “These will come and they will make all of our people stronger, but for today, there is only one way to guarantee we have a chance to reach that strength. If we abandon Ky and the legions now, as they push into Africa itself, we risk catastrophe. I know you are not Romans and so have no need to learn our ancient history, but we have experience attempting to land in Africa and attack the Carthaginians, and failing. It allowed them to push us from our ancestral home, across the continent, and onto this island, and then nearly wiped us out. So you must believe me when I tell you pulling back now, failing now, would be disastrous.”

“We understand the urgency, Your Highness,” Fiacha said. “But for us, it is the present that weighs heavily. Our villages are depleted of men and our fields need tending. As Rotie said, fantastic new tools tomorrow will not feed our people today. I’m sorry, but the people of Eiru have nothing more to give.”

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” Rotie said formally. “But we are of similar mind. The war has bled our population dry. We cannot in good conscience send any more of our men and leave our own fields to ruin.”

Lucilla pushed down a well of frustration. She had expected resistance, but she’d faced that before and managed to overcome it. She saw their points. A third of their legions was now made up of Caledonians, and the Ulaid had lost so many in their war with the Carthaginians and their allies they didn’t have much to give.

She also knew these men. They could be stubborn, especially when they’d made up their minds. If she kept pushing them, they would dig their heels in further, making it progressively less likely they’d get anything accomplished.

“I understand your positions,” Lucilla finally said, keeping her tone neutral. “I will not compel aid where none can be given. I ask only that you take my request to your leaders. Conchobar and Talorgen are both honorable men, and they know the pressures we face in this war. Give them the chance to change your minds.”

She would contact each on her own, of course, but she needed more than their word alone. Both had committed so much without the consent of the people they governed, that they had started getting push back from the more influential parts of their societies. Which meant getting the senators to sign on to her plan, and going around them would again create resistance.

The men looked at each other, confirming silently. It wasn’t much, but Lucilla hoped they’d at least agree to this, to keep the conversation from ending here, to at least get some small measure of hope. Thankfully, heads began to nod assent, at first a few, but building to the majority.

“We will take your message to them,” Roti said, standing.

The rest of the men followed suit. Her father had taken less and less of an active role over the year before his death, so he hadn’t had to deal with the compromises that being emperor, or empress in her case, came with in their new system. It was frustrating, to say the least.

As she left the forum, her mind was already churning through options. While she’d still pursue this angle, she knew she needed to find new alternatives. But where?