The Fires of Vulcan - Chapter 26

Port of Kalb, Mouth of the Middle Sea

Valdar stepped carefully from the boarding plank down into the cutter, moving aft to take his place in the stern seat as the small boat began moving for the shore. Despite months of pounding the fortress from the sea and blockading it from resupply, he knew the coming battle would be anything but easy. This wasn’t where he saw himself before throwing his lot in with the Britannians. He was a ship’s captain and had no place leading soldiers into combat. Unfortunately, the two centurions commanding his assault force were far too green and inexperienced to properly lead the attack themselves. Valdar may not be a soldier, but he’d been involved in many fights, boarding actions, and even looted a city or two. Besides, this was his plan and his responsibility.

The men rowing the boat pulled hard on the oars as cannonballs soared over their heads, into the city, giving the defenders one last pounding before the men landed. His cutter was the last boat in line, pushing steadily across the harbor’s smooth surface toward the mostly untouched docks, left intact for exactly this purpose.

He felt the familiar twist in his gut that always came before a battle, that mingling of excitement and fear, eagerness and worry that somehow had become as much a part of him as his own skin. Ahead of him, nineteen longboats, packed with armed and armored legionaries, slowed as the lead two longboats moved closer toward the docks and the several dozen Carthaginians who’d come down from the walled city to try to repel the invaders.

Unlike the boats filled with legionaries, these two held a third of his marine force. Men who’d trained with the new rifles and were familiar with the constant rising and falling of the ocean. While many of their shots still missed, more struck home than any of the legionaries could have managed. Carthaginians began dropping. Their copies of the arcuballista were worthless at the range the marines were using. The marines were firing at them and were picking them off, one by one.

When the marines’ boats reached a couple of hundred paces out from the docks, they stopped, their rowers reversing their stroke to hold their boats in position, letting the legionaries, who had started rowing faster as the marines slowed, sweep past while they continued firing.

Seeing several hundred angry and armored legionaries closing on them, on top of their comrades continuing to fall with impunity as the marines carried on with their gruesome work, was more than enough for the remaining Carthaginians. Almost collectively, they decided they’d had enough, turning tail and running back to the crumbling port city, which had caught fire in several places, the untended fires starting to burn out of control.

Valdar’s boat landed at about the same time as the marines’ boats, men on the dock helped the new arrivals up and then they all fanned out to join the men already in line. The fleeing defenders had to have spread the word that the Britannians were there, and since there were no defenders sallying out to attack them it meant that they were going to hunker down and defend the broken city, making the Britannians fight house by house.

The canon fire from the ships in the harbor ceased as his ships’ captains saw that they were all ashore. From here on out, they were on their own. There wasn’t much his ships could do to help them now.

It was an unusual situation for an old sea dog to find himself in.

“Centurion,” he called out to the commander closest to him. “They’re waiting to bog us down, get us trapped in tight streets. We’ll split up our force. Fires are starting to get out of control north and west, so you’ll bring your men around and come from the east. We’ll march straight in, hopefully rendezvousing at the town center, either crushing them between us or pushing them into the burning streets. You’ll get half the medics we pulled off the ships and half the marines to care for any wounded and act as runners as needed.”

“Understood. We’ll see you there,” the centurion said, waving his men to follow him, circling around the city.

Valdar ignored them, turning his attention to the task at hand.

“Lead them on, centurion,” Valdar said.

He was in overall command, but he was no legionary. He’d leave the actual combat directives to their unit commanders and focus on keeping his men headed in the right direction, trying not to let them get bogged down. For the first few blocks, the narrow streets were eerily empty, many of the buildings burned and damaged from the naval bombardment.

It didn’t stay quiet for long. When they reached the first intersection, the Carthaginians sprung their first trap. A handful of bolts sailed out of a ruined building on their left, killing one legionary and leaving another in the dirt, a bolt sticking out of his knee. A dozen rifles on the left side of the formation turned and fired into the rubble. It was doubtful they killed anyone, considering no one had seen where those bolts came from.

“Contubernium left,” the centurion called out, causing ten of the legionaries on the left flank to peel off from the main body, slinging their rifles and pulling their swords.

The rest of the body didn’t slow down, which was exactly what they were supposed to do. They weren’t going to let anything slow them down. By the time they made it to the next intersection, the Contubernium had returned, their swords stained red. Better still, all of the men were accounted for.

That had just been the Carthaginians’ opening move, however. At the next street, the Carthaginians didn’t just settle for a few arcuballista bolts. The legionaries had just started to enter the intersection when men swarmed out of the buildings on all sides, completely surrounding them.

“Form Square,” the centurion bellowed, causing an instant ripple along their line as the legionaries instantly reacted, the lines splitting and reforming in a square.

Valdar, the marines, and medics rushed to get inside the square. The legionaries ignored their rifles and had their swords at the ready as the Carthaginians slammed into them. The attack was doomed from the beginning, despite the element of surprise, with roughly thirty Carthaginians trying to swarm the ninety-eight remaining legionaries. The Carthaginians gave it their all, however, and clashing metal sounded as the men collided, followed by screams of anguish as the first blades found flesh.

Ringing out over the sounds of battle came the occasional crack of a rifle. The handful of marines, not encumbered with defending themselves from sword and spear, picked targets, helping to whittle down the numbers even faster. Still, the battle wasn’t one-sided. The Carthaginians’ zealous fury took a toll, as here and there along the square legionaries fell beneath the blades. But for each man lost, five or six Carthaginians paid in kind.

The outcome of the battle was never in doubt. After only a few bloody minutes, the remaining Carthaginians finally broke, fleeing back down the streets.

“Reform lines,” the centurion called as the medics pulled the fallen legionaries back.

Valdar and his men continued their push through the ruined streets of the Carthaginian city. More small skirmishes broke out as they went, with defenders emerging from the rubble here or there to ambush them, but the numbers they faced were always incredibly small, usually only a handful of men, who were dispatched quickly.

Valdar knew they outnumbered the defenders, but so far there had been far too few of them, which meant there must be a large number ahead. They were still a few blocks out from what he believed was the center of the town, although a small curve in the street blocked it from view, when they started hearing the sounds of battle. Screams and rifle fire carried over the buildings, loud enough that it was clear where the rest of the Carthaginians were, and where the other century was.

“Double time!” he shouted, not waiting for their commander to give the order.

To their credit, none of them were confused. As soon as the order came, the men recognized the sounds they were hearing and realized their comrades were in trouble.

The legionaries broke into a run, rounding the final corner into a scene of chaos. The Carthaginians had concentrated their defense on the open square and were pressing hard on the second century, which was bottled up in the street, unable to bring the bulk of their men to bear. It was a tactic the Britannians had used many times against the Carthaginians, and one that worked equally well in reverse. Or it would have, had Valdar and his century not appeared.

“Charge,” the centurion yelled as soon as they saw the fight.

The command almost wasn’t needed. The men were already running full out, and they needed no urging to press the attack. His soldiers slammed into the Carthaginian rear. Caught between two Roman forces, the defenders’ cohesion shattered. They attempted to flee but found themselves pinned down and were attacked mercilessly.

What had been a pitched battle moments before turned into a slaughter. The square ran red with blood as the legionaries dispatched the last of the resistance. The port city now lay open to them, the defenses broken.

As the men collected the dead and squads were sent to root out any surviving Carthaginian soldiers, Valdar surveyed the bloody aftermath. They might have taken the port, but it was in very rough shape.

Runners were sent back to the ships, which began landing sailors to help get the fires under control while the legionaries provided security, should any resistance still exist.

Soon, the timid faces of townspeople began peering out from cellars and barricaded homes as they realized the fighting was over. With the battle won, it was time to establish control.

Valdar searched out the senior centurion, the man who’d led the other century, who at some point had made it back to the docks where he was directing the movement of men and supplies.

“You did well, centurion,” Valdar said when he found the man.

“Thank you, Admiral, although you were the one who saved us in the city square.”

“I only shortened the battle. Your men had things well in hand when we arrived. I’ve already sent a messenger back to Britannia with news of our victory, in which I commended your fine work to the Empress herself.”

“Thank you, sir,” the man said, flushing.

He was one of the newly trained and promoted centurions and probably didn’t expect his name to be spoken to the Empress directly. Considering he was a Roman, that was quite the achievement.

“Your work isn’t done, I’m afraid,” Valdar said. “I’m not staying. I need to take the fleet north to support the Consul and his legions as they assault the main Carthaginian port in southern Gaul. That means I have to leave you in command here. I know it’s a big responsibility, but I have faith you can handle it. In my message to the Empress, I also requested reinforcements for you, along with a senior officer to take over command of this port, but it will be several weeks at a minimum before you receive any more men.”

The centurion almost certainly hadn’t expected that news, causing him to blanch slightly at the sudden weight of his new responsibility.

“Don’t worry, you can handle this. The port is well protected from assault from the north, and the Carthaginians are otherwise engaged at the moment. Other than remnants of the defenders who made it out before our assault or possible brigands, you shouldn’t have much trouble. I’m not leaving you without support. Five of my ships will remain behind to protect the port and blockade the strait to Oceanus, which means the Carthaginians should not be able to do to you what we just did to them. You’re expected to keep the peace and begin repairing the port. Keep the civilian populace under martial law until you get reinforcements, although I don’t predict you’ll get much trouble from them. After months of shelling, I imagine they’ll be happy to get some semblance of normality back.”

“You can count on me, Admiral,” the centurion said, sounding relieved to hear he wasn’t going to be left entirely on his own.

“This port is going to be getting a lot of use over the coming year as we turn our attention to Africa, so it’s important you keep the docks open and get the city back up and running.”

“I won’t let you down,” he said.

“I know. I won’t keep you. Go get to work.”

The man saluted, which wasn’t strictly necessary, since generally the navy and the legions were not really considered equal, but Valdar returned the salute. The man’s world had just been turned upside down, so a little confusion was only natural.

Besides, Valdar had a lot of work of his own to do. There were preparations to be made for his departure, which he wanted to happen soon. He was a week behind the ships he’d sent north already, and he wanted complete control of the entire southern coast of Gaul by the time the Consul got his armies to the coast.

***

Devnum

Lucilla slid off her horse, enjoying the feeling of the crisp fall air on her skin. She spent so many hours cooped up in offices and audience chambers, or stuck in a carriage, it was a pleasure to be outside for a change. Hortensius had tried to convince her to take a carriage, as more befitted her station, but one of the attacks Medb’s proxies had made on her was focused on her “feminine weakness.” It was a good opportunity to be out pursuing more rugged activities where people could see her.

Looming in front of her was the object the inventor had brought her to see. A tall wooden pole rising from the earth with a thick black rope strung between its apex and another pole further down the gently sloping meadow. More poles stretched into the distance as far as she could see. She knew the rope was actually copper and steel wiring covered with the newly created rubber, which protected the wire from animals and nature. The long row of poles was quite the engineering marvel, with the glass and metal connections on each pole that the wire ran through, which Ky had said would help maintain the signal strength as it passed over long distances.

Hortensius, less used to riding than she was, caught up, sliding off his horse next to her.

“It’s quite the sight,” she said, still looking down the row of telegraph poles.

“It is indeed. They are much longer than you might think, sunk deep into the ground and secured with concrete in the ground to help hold them upright. I still imagine we will get downed lines from time to time, but we have run tests on fixing broken wire and replacing fallen or cut poles, and it isn’t difficult or very time-consuming. A small team of riders can be dispatched from a telegraph station to repair them quickly. Even if a line does go down, repairs can generally be made faster than sending messengers back and forth.”

“Excellent. Truly excellent. Show me the telegraph in operation,” she commanded.

“Certainly, Your Majesty,” he said with a slight bow of his head.

The small group remounted and made the short trek back to the palace. Along the way, they passed small groups of people who had heard about the new marvel and had walked out to see the strange line of poles. It spoke to how unusual the sight was that they barely paid attention to their Empress riding by as they marveled at the poles and the strange black rope traveling between them.

They arrived back at the palace at the small telegraph office installed next to Lurio’s office, outside the palace itself but still on the grounds of the complex. The wires ran from the closest pole down through the roof into the room itself. Inside the room, the wire extended down the wall from the ceiling to a desk that held the telegraph receiver. More wires ran from the receiver down to an enclosed box on the floor, which she knew held the battery that made the entire device function. Although she had a basic idea of how all this worked, since she’d been the one to transcribe its functions for the two inventors, seeing it in person was another matter, although one thing hadn’t been in the original plans. Part of her mind had marked it as notable when they’d been out observing the poles, but it was more noticeable once she arrived at the telegraph office itself.

“There were two wires on the poles, one on either side of the arm, yet there is only one here,” she asked the inventor.

“Yes. We figured that citizens would want to have access to this technology as much as anyone else, once they learn what it can do. Many families are separated at the moment, with fathers here or in Factorium for work while their loved ones are in villages as far away as Londinium. Once they know they can send messages to them quickly, I believe this will become very popular. Because it can only transmit one message at a time, we decided to run two lines, one for official business and one for citizens, who can pay a small fee to send messages, which will help offset the cost of the installation and upkeep of these stations. Sometimes, like here, the lines will go to different places, although I imagine both will often go to the same building.”

“Clever. Very clever. Lurio, in particular, will be pleased to hear you found a way to offset some of the costs, although I think we should be careful not to charge too much. This shouldn’t be a luxury only the wealthy can afford to use.”

“It was actually Lurio’s idea, after he heard about what we were doing. And yes, I had that conversation with him already. I’ve had the men working in Factorium, who know about the project, ask when they can use it, and while we pay them well, I know many send most of their money home to their families and live on very fixed allowances.”

“Good man,” she said, patting her friend on the shoulder. “Well, let’s see this in action.”

“Certainly,” he said, giving the operator sitting at the receiving desk a nod.

The man tapped his finger on a small metal arm that extended out of the receiver, which had a roundish part at its end. When he hit it, the plate pressed down into a wooden block which had a similar metal plate fixed to it, wires leading back to the receiver. Each time he tapped it, the machine made a notable “clack” sound.

“First, he sends a short series that tells the operator on the other end that a message is coming through. He waits for a reply that tells him the line is clear and to begin sending. The lines can only carry one signal at a time, so this is to ensure that there isn’t cross-traffic.”

As they watched, a second part of the receiver, that didn’t have a long metal arm but was a short, square set of metal plates, moved on its own, making the same “clack” with each sound.

“Sorantius is waiting at the other receiver, so this first message is just to let them know you’re here and ready for the demonstration,” Hortensius continued. “Normally, they would take your message, transcribe it into Morse code, send the clear signal, and then type out the message you wanted to send. Any replies would be filed here, and a couple of times a day, a runner would deliver them if the person it was intended for didn’t come by to pick them up, or to the palace, for this station. The last message of each transmission has a stop word, to let the other end know the message is complete.”

The operator clicked out a series of sounds in long and short clicks, and then waited. She was certain this would take more time in normal use, but this whole display had been orchestrated for her benefit, so each end knew exactly what the other side of the transmission was doing, which meant they didn’t need a lot of notification that signals were coming or going.

Suddenly, the receiver started clacking again, with the operator quickly jotting down the dots and dashes as it went. It didn’t last long, and it only took a few moments before the operator had the message translated.

Ky had mentioned a version of this that could have the machine itself write out the long or short sounds, so that it didn’t rely on the person on the receiving end hearing, or not hearing, a given sound, but they opted to start with the simpler version for now.

The man handed the slip of paper to Hortensius, who held it up and read it, “Long Live the Empress. Sorantius.”

Lucilla turned to the operator. “Send a reply praising Sorantius for his success and our gratitude for his hard work.”

The operator nodded and began tapping out her message. It was an odd sensation, hearing her words being encoded into a series of metallic clicks.

Turning to Hortensius, she added, “You and Sorantius have accomplished something truly miraculous here. I know this was all Ky’s brainchild, but it seemed impossible when he first described it. I can’t believe you managed to turn it into a reality. You both deserve immense credit for making it work. This is going to change everything. Not just the war, but our entire Empire. Being able to send messages across the entire country in a moment is revolutionary.”

“Everything the Consul has given us has been that way. He’s the real miracle.”

“Maybe, but it wouldn’t have been possible if you hadn’t made his ideas into a reality. I always had faith in your abilities, but even I am astonished by what you have achieved here. You should take immense pride in this accomplishment, my friend.”

Hortensius smiled warmly at the Empress’s praise. “You are too kind, Your Majesty. This is just a first step. We’re already working on lines to Londinium and up to Caledonia, and it won’t be long before other cities ask for their own lines.”

“You plan on using Devnum as a hub, like you did for the semaphore stations?”

“Yes. We’re looking to convert the semaphore stations themselves, actually, since the buildings are already built, making it easier to convert. We’ll also build some intermediate stations, again using the semaphore stations, to allow some of the smaller towns to have access.”

“Good. Very good. I imagine your operators are going to be very busy, soon.”

“I have no doubt. Even more so when we finish the second phase of the Consul’s plan. We’ve already begun experimenting with the thicker rubber insulating cover, combining it with a steel casing to protect it from sea life, that we’ll use to run lines to Ériu and the Continent. Imagine, instant communication across the ocean. I’m still a little skeptical, but you and the Consul haven’t steered me wrong yet, so I’m withholding judgment.”

“Trust me, I share your skepticism. Honestly, seeing these plans when I first brought them to you, I seriously doubted this would work like Ky promised. I know you’re going to make it so that the entire Empire is united by this miracle. Seriously, you’ve done a fantastic job.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said, a little embarrassed by the praise.

She knew the praise made him uncomfortable, but she meant it. This device was going to change everything.