The Sands of Saturn - Chapter 11

Devnum

Lucilla made her way into one of the several smaller amphitheaters that had been springing up across the city as it grew and the new workers began demanding entertainment. The men, and it was all men, already assembled looked nervously towards her as she and her guards made their way down the steps towards the center stage area.

Their nervousness was why she’s picked a place out of the way and small, rather than the large original amphitheater, the forum, the Colosseum, or worse, her father’s audience hall, for this meeting. These people had been pulled in, from the small coastal villages where they’d been gathering since making it to the island, by praetorians, which would have been a frightening thing for refugees. She didn’t want to frighten them further by having them brought into a place designed to inspire awe.

“Good morning,” she said once she reached the bottom, speaking loud enough for the forty or so men to hear her, but trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible. “Does anyone here speak Latin?”

Two of the men raised their hands, while the rest remained looking confused and worried.

“Do you speak the languages of any of the other men here?”

“Yes,” the man with blond hair and striking blue eyes said.

“Some,” the larger, darker-haired of the pair said.

“Good. Since so many of you are from different places, this is going to take some time. Could you talk to your fellows? I speak many languages, but I need to know what each of these people speaks, so I know how to address them directly. I could use your help getting them to just talk to me for a few minutes until I can work out the language. After that, we’ll get to the point of you all coming here. None of you nor of your people, are in trouble. You were only brought here to give us a little information and then you’ll be sent back to your people.”

Hearing they weren’t going to be outright harmed, the men relaxed and started working with her to get each of the other men in the crowd to talk to her enough for Sophus to work out translations. She’d spent time with the voice in her ear, learning to follow the translations and respond without long pauses in between. It was harder than she thought it would be, since it sometimes required her to both listen and speak at the same time.

Thankfully, unlike her, Sophus was able to follow dozens of people talking at a time, and could supply her with bits she missed. Sophus wasn’t always great at figuring out who she needed to hear from at a given time, because it could only go off of sound, but they’d been working at it diligently every night, especially after the senate session where the issue of refugees had come up.

The Senators made pronouncements about how to deal with these people, some of whom weren’t refugees at all, but traders and businessmen, without ever talking to any of them to find out what they wanted, or were even capable of doing. At some point, she’d have to go back and try to get something less inflexible put in place, since this wouldn’t be the last group of refugees they’d have to deal with, but first, she needed to talk to them, since decision-making without information just led to bad decisions.

In the end, she was able to divide the men into three groups, refugees who were fleeing the Carthaginians and couldn’t go back, people from regions that submitted but weren’t controlled by the Carthaginians, mostly from northern Germania, and traders whose stay in Britannia would be temporary, mostly made up of Scandi.

The easiest group to deal with were the true refugees from Iberia and southern Germania, people whose leaders had either collaborated or been executed and their communities integrated into the Carthaginian machine. These people had no real hope of ever returning home and mostly liked the idea of just becoming Britannic citizens, which allowed them to more or less resume their lives.

“What if, one day, your homelands were freed. Would you return there and try to rebuild.”

“Yes,” one man said.

“It depends on who freed it and if they intend to stay. If they’re no better than the Carthaginians, what would be the point,” said another.

“No. There’s nothing to return to. All of the men of fighting age have been taken for the army and half the women have just been taken. There’s nothing left to return to.”

Those three statements more or less made up the responses from the others, not that it mattered. She didn’t know Ky’s plan yet for dealing with that freed territory. If they did take the continent, it was a lot of land, more than they could effectively control, and even before the Carthaginians there hadn’t been a lot of centralized control. Germania had been, at best, a series of loosely bonded tribes, and at worst a series of warring tribes. The landscape had changed, but it wouldn’t be making deals with just a few kingdoms. It would be hundreds of alliances, some of which would make other alliances impossible. And even if they did make alliances, they’d never have the manpower to patrol and defend that land.

“For those of you who wish to stay, the senate has recently passed a measure allowing you to become citizens if you join critical parts of the labor force or the military. We have lots of need for bodies in both of those fields, so all you have to do is ask and you’ll have employment needed to get your citizenship. For those that don’t want to stay, and just want a place to keep their families safe, we have plenty of work for you too. If you aren’t going to become citizens, then you’re going to have a tax placed on you, to help support our legions, which are keeping the island clear of Carthaginians and safe for you. Don’t worry,” she said when the men who’d indicated they would probably leave as soon as their homelands were freed started shifting. “The work we have pays well, and you’ll do better now, even paying the taxes, than you did under Carthaginian rule. Besides, helping to support the legions is also helping to free your homeland, since at the moment, our forces are the only ones pushing the Carthaginians back. Since you won’t be swearing fealty to the empire, you will remain under extra scrutiny, but we will try and keep it from interfering with your lives.”

“What about us?” One of the Scandi said. “We have no interest in working in factories or joining your army.”

“That’s a good question. Your people are not, yet at least, being threatened by the Carthaginians. One day they will be, since the Carthaginians have made no secret of their desire to conquer every part of the world, but you’ve remained largely untouched by their wars. How do you think your people would feel about allying with the empire, to keep that day from ever happening?”

“We wouldn’t,” the man said, without hesitation.

“That seems short-sighted.”

“Don’t get me wrong, many of us, especially those that sail into areas controlled by the Carthaginians, can see what you mean, but if you think Germania isn’t a unified whole, then you’d have real trouble with my people. Our homeland is mountainous and most of our villages are along the coast, and none of them cooperate in anything that could be considered a single country like you or the Carthaginians. You’d have to make deals with each village independently.”

“That’s disappointing. Still, you’ll be welcome and your people who want to stay here can, although they will have to pay the same tax as the others. In return, there will be even more new goods that I think you’ll have little trouble finding markets for. There will be a lot of money to be made over the next few years, if we can survive the Carthaginian’s attempts to reclaim the island. If we don’t, then there won’t be another civilization capable of standing up to them in our lifetimes, and when they do come for you, there won’t be anything to stop them from doing to you what they’ve done to the rest of us. Something to think about.”

The man took it in, but didn’t say anything else. She spent the next hour talking to each leader, finding out how many people they had in their group, and where their interests lay. Few of them cared about having to pay a tax if there was ready work and they had a temporary safe haven from the Carthaginians, and even more indicated they’d be willing to do more, if need be. The sticky point was the various Scandi, each operating almost independently from the rest.

The people from Germania had a reason to fear the Carthaginians. Even those whose villages had submitted hated their overloads, and by and large, it seemed doubtful they’d become spies or saboteurs for their former conquerors. The Scandi were here for the money. Those that didn’t see the long-term danger from the Carthaginians, or didn’t care, would see the profit in working for their enemies. Romans, and Caledonians, weren’t sailors and they needed the Scandi markets for raw materials and as a place to sell Roman goods for shipments to Asia, most of which remained untouched by Carthaginian greed. The money they brought in helped fund the war effort, either directly by taxes or keeping the factories with government contracts in business long enough to fulfill them.

Eventually, the Senators would realize their idea to tax those who didn’t want to become Britannians wouldn’t stop some of the more entrepreneurial Scandi from taking advantage of the vast wealth the Carthaginians were bound to put up for information on new Britannic technologies and it’s military movements. When the senators did realize it, she was certain some would act rashly, without realizing how much they needed the mariners.

That was a problem for tomorrow. For now, while these people wouldn’t solve Britannia’s manpower problems, they could offset it a little. Today, that was enough.

***

Outside Londinium

“Come to pester me again,” Bomilcar said, in his now daily greeting.

The first few times it had been almost hostile, but as Ky had continued his visits, the statement had begun to become more joking than serious. Normally Ky played into it, hoping the slowly building friendship, even between men who could never be friends because of their competing allegiances, would allow the Carthaginian general a reason to give into his personal feelings rather than sticking to stoic loyalists.

Today, however, he had bad news to deliver.

“My people intercepted a message this morning that had information I thought you should know. There isn’t a good way to break this to you, so I’ll just say it. Your family, including your extended family, has been seized by the emperor and executed.”

“What? You’re lying.”

“I’m not. From the notice we intercepted, the government has declared that you are to blame for the loss of your army. They say they have information that you were in league with us and led your men into a trap, to help us defeat them and take over the island, in exchange for money and titles. It also says some of your family was found to be in on the plot, which made all of your family suspect, making all of their lives forfeit.”

“That’s not true,” Bomilcar said in disbelief.

“I know it isn’t, but your empire has now lost two armies to us. The refugees that have started pouring onto the island is a sign of how people are taking to the news of your loss. We’ve also heard that several villages in Germania have revolted, maybe thinking the empire has gotten weak. Your emperor has to have a scapegoat to explain the loss, and they’ve decided it’s you. I know this might seem like a trick, and I have no way of proving it to you, but you know your empire. Is this the kind thing your people would do?”

The way the general’s face fell told Ky all he needed to know. He could see the realization that his brothers, his wife, and his children were all dead. Several times in their conversations, Bomilcar had talked about them, since the information couldn’t betray the empire. Ky wasn’t sure how far they would have gone, but surely any of those relatives Bomilcar was closest to would all be dead by now.

“I’m so sorry,” Ky said. “I know it’s a little consolation, but I am sorry. Your family didn’t deserve this.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You also have a death warrant signed against you. If you return home, you will be taken into custody and executed.”

Bomilcar just nodded.

“Is there anything we can do for you?”

The general didn’t answer, just shook his head no. His body language signaled his defeat. Sitting on the edge of the thin cot he’d been given, his shoulders slumped, like he was curling into himself.

Ky patted his shoulder and left the man to his grief. Bomilcar knew the people he served and, having led several of their expeditions, he had to have seen some of the ways the Carthaginians treated people, but it was impossible to ignore their cruelty when it came for you.

***

Devnum

It was getting dark, but Lucilla had one more thing to do. She normally ended most days checking in with Hortensius, to get progress reports on his work that she could pass on to Ky, but she’d missed the last several days.

Since speaking to the refugees she’d traveled to the nearest port where they’d been gathering with some of the men she’d interviewed to see their people. She was happy to see the locals had taken good care of them, finding places for them to stay and keeping them fed while the authorities figured out what to do with them. She’d had Hortensius talk to several of the other factory owners and found jobs for the group she visited, so her trip was to escort them back to Devnum where they could start their new lives.

That had taken the better part of four days, which hopefully meant Hortensius had a lot to talk to her about, which is why she decided to keep her end-of-the-day stop, even though the sun was already going down. She was less than a block away when she saw someone, she thought it was Hortensius, come running through the large front doors of the factory. He was part way out of the door when the building exploded.

She’d never seen anything like that before, short of when Ky had fired that weapon he carried. Everything seemed to become as bright as daylight, the light causing her eyes to hurt, followed by an ear-shattering boom. Then the wind hit. The air felt was hot, like standing next to one of Hortensius’ forges and it was stronger than the worst storm she’d experienced, the force of it almost took her off her feet.

Thankfully, they were outside of town, but Hortensius had constructed small warehouses, separated by a large span from each other, the thought being that it was enough space to keep the fire from spreading from one to another. That hadn’t taken into account the ball of fire that exploded through the roof, spreading fire in all directions as flaming debris rained down.

“Go get help,” she yelled to her guards. “We need to get these fires out before the other storage buildings explode. Hurry.”

Her ears were ringing, and she was having trouble hearing after the boom, which was mostly why she was yelling, since if she couldn’t hear, neither could her guards.

“You’re not going,” Cynwrig said, grabbing her arm as she started forward, to check on Hortensius.

“He’s hurt.”

“I know, and we’ll check on him, but we aren’t going to risk you. If these other buildings go up, you’ll be injured. Stay here.”

Modius and Cynwrig ran towards the still burning remains of the factory while another guard ran towards town for the fire watch and people to help put out the fire, while a single guard stayed back with Lucilla. All she could do was pace, waiting for more people to arrive and help her handful of guards trying valiantly but helplessly to put out the fire, and worry about what this was going to mean for their preparations.