Triumph of Venus - Chapter 7

Gades, Southern Hispania

Cormac steadied his nerves as a much smaller contingent of legionnaires followed him back into the crumbling meeting hall. The past week had been extremely humbling for Cormac. Llassar’s rebuke over his performance during their first attempt at negotiations did not end when he stormed out of the village, continuing for several days as they waited for permission to return and attempt negotiation again. Some blistering words and hard truths had been exchanged between them, but after he calmed down, Cormac begrudgingly admitted that Llassar was right.

At the Caledonian’s suggestion, they had discreetly hired a trusted villager to brief them on the tribe’s customs, where Llassar was proven right once again. The villager told them that elders were deeply respected and wielded great influence over village affairs. Insulting them was tantamount to insulting the entire tribe. Furthermore, only elders actively participated in important discussions; younger men were expected to observe quietly until called upon. The man they had seen was the token warrior, who advised the elders but did not participate in their discussions.

It had been a difficult few days, where Cormac learned that, in nearly every way, he had been wrong. It is a hard thing to have one’s faults laid bare before them, and Cormac had spent a day brooding. Wasted a day. Thankfully, Llassar didn’t hold it against him and allowed him the space to deal with the lessons. How the old warrior once again knew the right thing to do, and gave that space to him, Cormac didn’t know, but it was what he needed. When he eventually came out of his tent, Cormac made a decision.

He had been resistant in Devnum, where it didn’t matter how much he pushed back against the lessons Llassar was teaching him. He decided he couldn’t do that here. Seeing how badly things nearly turned out, he spent the next several days while they waited for the elders’ permission listening to the Caledonian about what he did wrong and, more importantly, what he could do better.

It was odd, then, to realize he felt more nervous this time, when he was more prepared for the task at hand, than he had last time, when he’d been so ignorant. The same five elders were seated at the far end of the hall, lined up on their simple wooden chairs. The young warrior was also present, standing silently off to the side.

Cormac inclined his head respectfully towards the elders. “Honored elders, I have returned as you permitted to apologize for my poor conduct last time we met. I offended you greatly with my arrogance and lack of respect. This was not my intent. I am unused to your ways and spoke out of ignorance. However, that does not excuse the disrespect I showed you.”

He’d used their language for his apology. Although there hadn’t been time to learn the language, they’d had the villager they hired, and their interpreter, teach him that sentence, ensuring the syntax was correct and it was done in the most respectful way possible. The elders looked to each other in surprise as he started speaking, all except the oldest. The one he’d offended. That elder continued to stare directly at Cormac, never looking away.

Cormac bowed his head, switching back to the Latin he used while in the Romans’ company. “I humbly ask your forgiveness and hope that we may start fresh. I wish to understand your people so that we may find common ground.”

The elder didn’t reply right away. He watched Cormac, let him wait patiently. Cormac stood, his hands behind him, trying to seem neither overly cowed, which they would know to be false, nor too confident, as he had last time. It was a balance.

“You speak gentle words, but on your previous visit, you marched in with armed men, much like the Carthaginians before they oppressed us. Why should we accept this apology when you show we are still not equals to you?”

“Yes, we did; however, my soldiers are only here to guard me on the roads, not to threaten you. We have been warned about the banditry that has taken place on the roads north of the port where we are now based out of, and thought it a precaution. In truth, my subordinates were displeased when we brought only thirty, thinking it not enough. Were we misinformed? Are the roads not dangerous? And, looking at the men you have here, would thirty have been enough to defend ourselves if you had turned out to be loyal still to the Carthaginians? I am, of course, not saying that is the case. However, we did not know that the first time. Now that we do, I left the majority of my men at our camp, out of respect for you.”

To make his point, he looked around the room at the larger number of armed young men around the walls and the absence of the older men, women, and especially children who had been here the previous time.

“As for why you should accept my apology, I cannot demand that you do so. I can only endeavor to show through my conduct that it is genuine. This is the first time I have been tasked with diplomacy. I am still learning how to approach other cultures respectfully.”

“So you send an ignorant stripling to threaten us while keeping your skilled negotiators for tribes you think more important? What does this say about how your empire views us?”

Although Cormac didn’t understand his words, at least not until they were translated, he listened to the way the elder was speaking. Llassar had talked to him about not only listening to the words the other party said, but how they said them. This, at least, hadn’t been new information for him. He’d dealt with this before. Many of the nobles would come to the king, offering respectful words, without the respect behind them.

The elder’s words might have sounded angry, offended, but his tone had been prodding, almost quizzical. He was testing Cormac, trying to see if he could bring out the disrespectful man who’d come to them last time.

“A fair question,” Cormac said. “It is true I am still learning about diplomacy. However, I am the son of King Conchobar of the Ulaid, one of the three powers that makes up the Britannic empire. As such, I have the authority to negotiate binding agreements on behalf of the empire, where even a skilled diplomat might not. We deemed it better to send someone who can speak decisively rather than a functionary who would have to return to our homelands for the decisions of others.”

He met the elder’s gaze with equal determination. “Make no mistake, we greatly value ties with your people. My being here was meant to show that as true, not as an insult.”

The elder watched him for another moment, before turning to the others and conversing in hushed tones. Their translator stepped up to Cormac, to tell him what the men were saying, but Cormac waved him back. It wasn’t hard to figure out what the men were discussing. Instead, he listened to the way they said it, to get a handle on who was swayed and who might be a problem later. It’s also how he saw that the chief elder witnessed the motion, and gave an approving smile.

“Very well,” the elder said when he turned back to Cormac. “We accept your apology and will hear you out. This time. But heed that our patience has limits.”

“A fair decision,” Cormac said. “My goal here is to build trust between our peoples, and hopefully find a way to work together so we can each be more secure than we would be otherwise.”

He gestured to Llassar to bring forth the items they had brought as gifts for the elders. Llassar stepped forward, presenting muskets, small powder horns, along with swords and daggers made of high-quality Britannian steel, a pair of arcuballistae, and some household and farming implements, again made of Britannian steel.

“We have heard about these,” the elder said, reaching out and taking the musket. “Your thunder weapons. Several of our people were at Daramouda when your armies destroyed the Carthaginians. They returned with frightening tales.”

“These are for you, regardless of whether you choose to work with us. When we finish our discussions, Llassar here would be happy to show any of the men you choose how the musket, which this weapon is called, works. My hope is, along with the arcuballistae and swords, you can see that it’s more than just our armies we offer in service to protecting your people. It’s the tools necessary to protect yourselves. They also work very well for hunting, in addition to defense, making it a valuable tool.”

“I see,” the elder said, turning the long musket over in his frail hands.

Cormac refrained from commenting. Given new things, they were like children celebrating their birth, unwrapping presents. He didn’t mean that in an insulting or disingenuous way, because he’d been the exact same the first time he’d held a rifle. It was human nature. Still, it was nice to see the old man’s aggressive attitude fade away, giving them a chance to negotiate on friendly terms. Not that he didn’t deserve the man’s attitude, Cormac thought.

“These are just some of the items we can provide for you, if we come to an agreement. A partnership. In Germania, such agreements have benefited all tribes greatly. We enabled improved hunting and protection from raiders. In return, we secured willing allies and trade routes. We are not looking to be involved in your internal decisions or even your negotiations with others, beyond the caveat that we will not provide any materials to be used against peaceful neighbors.”

“So you do want some say in our self-determination then,” the elder asked.

“We do not deny that this agreement is not an offer of altruism, and I make no secrets in our agenda. In fact, I will tell you plainly what we are asking for. In the short term, we want peace in Hispania and a secure rear area to operate against, freeing up our men and material for fighting the Carthaginians instead of protecting ourselves and our supply lines from a lawless region full of banditry. In the long term, we seek partners, who have access to raw materials we need and who we can sell our finished materials to. We also see political alliances to maintain peace once the war is finished. I will also tell you that yes, we do exert some influence, in the form of suggestions at least, that regions should consider more formalized alliances among themselves, alliances that we can negotiate as a whole, allowing us to more equitably deal with all the tribes in a region, instead of setting agreements with each, one on one, where accusations of favoritism or working with their enemies in common cause might arise. I will say this is not a deciding factor in any partnership, but I hope by being open and honest with what I was sent here to achieve, we can build a new foundation of trust, getting rid of the previous unsteady one.”

He could feel Llassar looking at him, and Cormac knew this was probably not the tactic he, or another negotiator, might have taken, but Cormac had thought this over. It went beyond just rebuilding the foundation, as he’d said. It didn’t take long to look at their actions in other regions, with other groups they allied with, and work out what the Britannian plan was. It was better to admit to that openly than having someone miss that and instead thinking Britannia wanted to roll them up and bring them directly under the empire. For people controlled their entire lives, and the lives of their parents, by an outside nation, it was obvious where their initial reaction would go, if given the chance.

“And you plan on going to the other tribes too, yes?” the elder asked, handing the musket off to the younger warrior.

“We do. One ally in a region will not create peace. We need agreements with all, or at least, most of the tribes, because we want you to be the ones to create peace. If we tried to do it ourselves, it would mean leaving men behind to enforce that control. And then we’d just be occupiers, and our entire goal of freeing ourselves to focus entirely on the Carthaginians would be moot.”

“And you plan on selling these same weapons to them as you would to us. What is to keep them from buying the weapons and then turning them against their neighbors, abandoning agreements they have with you.”

“For one, that isn’t how these weapons work. Yes, the swords and even arcuballistae, to a point, work that way. Once you have them, they can be used without input from us. But you’ve faced those weapons for a long time. Yes, the quality might be better, but they aren’t going to radically change the way you would have to defend yourselves. Especially if you have the muskets, which is where the technology changes the very way conflict is resolved. And importantly, these weapons do not work on their own. They require both the weapon and the powder in these horns called gunpowder, which are at the center of how these weapons work. To continue using these, you would have to continue buying the gunpowder from us, and if a tribe starts using our weapons against their neighbors, at least without the agreement of the rest of Hispania and a good reason, we would stop all shipments of the gunpowder.”

“Your words are reasonable. The people of Hispania, our neighboring tribes, lash out angrily, wanting to take back some part of their own manhoods, laid bare for so long, unable to make their own destiny. It is understandable ... and a threat to my people. It is also clear that, while we could do it alone, that would come with a high price in blood and tears. As chief elder, it is my job to limit the flowing of either of those, and the easiest course would be to find another, more powerful people to take shelter under. However, we know all too well there is also a cost of selling our freedom to another. While selling it ourselves isn’t the same as having it taken from us, we lose it all the same.”

“As I said,” Cormac countered, “we are not asking you to sell your freedoms. Your people are free to govern themselves as they see fit, and deal with their neighbors as they see fit. We only ask for peace in return.”

“But you don’t. You’ve shown your true intentions already.”

Cormac cocked his head curiously. “How so? I believe I have been forthright about our goals here.”

The elder waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, not intentionally perhaps. But think. What happens when some tribes join you and others refuse? When those with your new weapons and power go to war against those without?”

Cormac fought down his frustrations. Part of him, a large part, in fact, wanted to throttle the man and yell at him. For someone who’d been under the Carthaginian boot for his entire life, he seemed unwilling to take any firm stance against it. Trying to play everything for advantage, even if it left them weaker in the end, was how most of the world had ended up under their control in the first place. This is what happened to so many of the kingdoms in Eriu when the Carthaginians first landed. Instead of backing his father, they dickered and argued until they were forced to submit or be destroyed.

“I must correct you, we would only assist tribes who are attacked, not those who initiate violence against their neighbors. As I said, we will withhold support from any tribe that attacks a neighbor unprovoked.”

“Is it not inevitable that the tribes who shun you will lash out against the favored ones, because the ones who side with you have things of value and the ones who don’t do not? What then?” The elder gave Cormac a knowing look. “You arm some tribes and not others, upsetting the balance of power. The world seeks equilibrium. Where one has nothing and the other has everything, the one with nothing tries taking from those who have. Your actions guarantee bloodshed.”

“Honored elder,” Cormac said, crossing his arms. “I understand your concerns, but tell me, what would you have us do instead? If we were to provide weapons to all tribes equally, regardless of their actions, how would that create peace? Those set on violence would simply have more tools for violence. And if we provide weapons to none, the status quo remains, with tribes raiding each other out of need and resentment over Carthaginian oppression.”

Cormac paused, meeting the elder’s gaze. “I do not claim to have all the answers. But it seems neither of those paths lead to stability. At least by being selective, we encourage thoughtful leadership focused on building, not destroying. The tribes who uplift their people will gain access to better tools for hunting, building, and defense. Over time, that benefits all Hispanians, as successful tribes share expertise. The cycle must be broken.”

That was one of the lessons that Llassar had been pounding into Cormac’s head for the past year, and one he’d ignored, at least until the last several days. In beginning to re-evaluate his actions in that first disastrous meeting, Cormac had been forced to take a new look at everything. He wouldn’t say he’d changed his worldview completely, but he decided to try things Llassar’s way, and see if things turned out different this time.

The elder didn’t speak for a long time, only stared at Cormac, considering. The prince couldn’t help but notice he didn’t consult with the other elders. Cormac realized they’d already made their decision, even before the Britannians returned. All the bluster about respect and threats of throwing them out and ending the negotiations had been just that. Bluster. This entire negotiation had been a foregone conclusion.

Cormac refrained from looking at Llassar as the elder finally spoke, “While we would need to hear more specifics of what you offer, in principle, we agree that some form of agreement of benefit to both of us.”

While Cormac was pleased his first attempt at diplomacy was, ultimately, a success, he was also conflicted. Llassar’s advice had sounded good, and they weren’t asking for anything more than what was agreed to this time, but what happens if you begin negotiations allowing the other side to take the upper hand, put you on the defensive. If they’d wanted to ask for more, instead of just complaining before agreeing to the original offer, would Cormac have agreed to it? He’d come in off balance, looking to appease them, which meant it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he might have offered too much to make up for his earlier mistakes. It was something to think about. He didn’t, however, say any of that.

Instead, Cormac bowed and said, “I am pleased to hear that, elder.”

They didn’t have an agreement yet, but it was enough for today.

***

North Western Italy

Ky stood on the crest of the hill overlooking yet another abandoned village. The hastily deserted huts and livestock pens showed signs of the villagers’ hasty retreat upon word of the Britannian legions’ advance. This was the third such village they had come across in as many days.

It was the same each time; the scouts would report the presence of a Carthaginian village, they would turn the legions toward that, only to find the Carthaginians gone. Not just the Carthaginians, but everybody. Since they’d marched out of Daramouda, they’d yet to fire a shot in anger.

It was frustrating.

“They refuse to stand and fight,” Marcus, whose legion was at the front of the Britannian column, said, echoing his thoughts.

“Because we outnumber them, at least for now,” Ky said. “While I hadn’t expected the enemy to offer a stand-up fight, not when we have a technological and manpower advantage, I hadn’t expected the entire villages to be empty. It’s concerning.”

“Isn’t empty better than working against us?” Bomilcar asked.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive,” Ky said. “At least in their villages, we could keep track of them. If they’re spreading out into the surrounding countryside, it’s going to create serious problems in our rear. If they’re all pushing ahead, south down the peninsula, it’ll be chaos when we finally get to them. That many people, mixed in with Carthaginian forces, it will be hard not to have a massacre on our hands.”

“They’ve already made their choice,” Marcus said. “If that’s what they want, that’s what they get.”

“Operating with that attitude is how we set ourselves up for a repeat of what Carthage suffered in Germania. I know the local populace is against us, but their ancestors were against the Carthaginians, and now they’re loyal enough to abandon everything to flee before us. I’d prefer not to wait generations for this area to become pacified since the only options are to slaughter any malcontents until they run out of people to hate us or to put enough men in the area to keep it suppressed until things become more secure. Either builds a lot of resentment, which is why it takes generations. I was hoping to negotiate with them by now, at least attempt to change attitudes without having to rely on a more heavy-handed option.”

“How, exactly, were you planning on doing that?” Bomilcar asked, skeptically.

“We just need the opportunity to show things can be different than they were under the Carthaginians. Yes, we’ll have to keep security tight at first, which might mean leaving a legion behind to maintain control of the region. But we’ll give strict instructions to come down harshly only when absolutely necessary.”

He turned to face the other men. “Set up councils for the villages, allow them some measure of self-governance. No direct taxation, which I know will be a burden on Britannia financially, but we can’t treat these people any differently than we do the Gauls or our German allies. We can recoup some of the cost by selling civilian goods and medicines to them, at the same rates we do our other allies, with the caveat that no military weapons can be directly sold into the villages for now.”

“You truly think they’ll start cooperating because we ask politely?” Marcus asked.

“No, it will take years to fully turn attitudes around, perhaps a generation,” Ky conceded. “But if we offer opportunity instead of oppression, I believe eventually a mutual understanding can be found, and hopefully without the time it would take otherwise. We just need to be consistent—firm when needed but focused on lifting these people up, not keeping them down.”

“None of which helps us now,” Bomilcar pointed out.

“You’re right,” Ky said. “Before we can start setting any of that up, we need to push out the Carthaginians, which so far we don’t know if we have or not. Considering they may have fled into the surrounding countryside and still pose a threat, we need to make sure we secure our rear. I’d hoped to keep our forces intact for the fights ahead, but it’s clear that isn’t possible, at least not while we’re operating on the peninsula.”

Ky thought for a moment, looking at a map and known positioning superimposed over his vision by Sophus.

“Marcus, have your legion begin spreading out along our line of march back to Daramouda, but do not spread out too much. Stay mobile, and do not split your forces into more than cohorts. I don’t want individual centuries running around the countryside if we can help it. At least not as long as the Carthaginians could be out there. Send scouts to sweep the surrounding countryside, see if we can flush them out or even just determine if they’re still in the area or if they moved south.”

Turning to Auspex, Ky said, “Take the lead with your legion. Move one cohort quickly to each village as we advance, try to reach them before they abandon it. The rest of the column can catch up after you’ve secured the area. And run telegraph lines, at least alongside the main body. As soon as you see the rest of your legion catch up, skip ahead to the next. Don’t wait to confer with us beyond sending reports through the telegraph. If we need you to stop, we’ll let you know.”

“Vibius,” he said, turning to the final legate. “Continue on to your assigned position facing Greece. Ensure you also run telegraph back to the main line. Leave half a cohort behind to set up a station where the line branches south. The main body will use it as a secure base of supply and communication point. Have them patrol the area thoroughly, and we can bring forward our logistics from Daramouda to here, shorten our supply lines some.”

The three officers saluted and rode toward their respective units to begin carrying out their orders. Ky watched them go, frowning. As a plan, it was solid, considering their sudden force advantage, but it still felt like a surprise waited for them. And it was bothering him.

“An interesting decision, switching Marcus and Auspex’s positions,” Bomilcar said after a moment. “Any particular reason?”

Ky, watching the legates recede into the distance, said, “Marcus is reliable, but for someone so aggressive in spirit, he’s been too cautious. Too slow. Right now we need speed if we’re to pin down these villages before they flee.”

“Makes sense. But you’re bothered by something,” the general said, looking at Ky’s face intently.

While Ky normally felt he held a good poker face, Bomilcar had an uncanny ability to read him.

“I’m just concerned. I know a plan never survives contact with the enemy, but this has been more unpredictability than I’d like.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll force them to fight eventually.”

“But on whose terms?” Ky asked.

For that, Bomilcar had no answer.