The Sands of Saturn - Chapter 7

Devnum

“It’s cloudy,” Lucilla said. “I can’t really see anything.”

“Could you describe in more specifics please,” Sophus said.

They’d been back in Devnum for two days, and Hortensius had been a whirlwind since their return. He’d already begun working on all of the projects Ky had given him, sending men out to collect the necessary supplies for the gunpowder, begun first casting tests on the canon and started producing the semaphore stations.

Of all of the tasks he’d been given, the semaphore stations were the easiest. Ky had already marked out on a map where he wanted the permanent stations to be that would allow messages to be transmitted from major cities to each other and to the capital. The stations themselves were pretty straightforward and could be built using “volunteer” labor from the prisoner of war camps. The height of each tower depended on the height of the land it was built on, calculated by Sophus so that each should be able to see the other in spite of trees and obstacles. Some were a mere thirty feet off the ground while the tallest reached as high as the top of the Coliseum, its wooden frame designed to be sturdy even in the face of strong winds. Ky had devised a series of cables using roman wire, which he’d also given instructions on how to strengthen using the new steel, that would help brace the tallest towers in all directions.

Most of the towers themselves with their enclosed cabins and pulleys for raising and lowering flags or lanterns, would be finished in just a few weeks. The slower point would be training the men tasked with operating the stations to read the code that Ky had worked out for them. The actual messaging wasn’t hard, since they could produce scrolls that lay out what letter each flag combination or light sequence matched with. They’d also have to learn how to decode and encode those messages using ciphers. Her people had already been using the idea of shifting letters for other letters in a pattern known only by the people sending the message, but Ky had introduced a much more complex series, using simple mathematical formulas that could be changed quickly, even automatically based on the season or day of the week.

The instructions to do this were fairly clear, but they’d need to train several hundred men who’d then be scattered across the landscape to operate each station, and they had to do it well enough to keep errors out of their communication. Simple things could be figured out, but things like troop movements or questions of scientific nature would require exact figures that could be easily ruined by the accidentally shifted number. They had methods to repeat and confirm messages, but men in the field often looked for shortcuts to their daily work, and she had no illusions this wouldn’t happen here.

The other, and more direct, issue was the looking glass that Ky had described. The stations were far enough apart that every station would need one, and more likely several, to see the message being sent. It was already clear the legions and most ship masters, as well as a large part of private industry, was going to be clamoring for these devices if they worked the way Ky said they would, so they needed to get into production right away. Unfortunately, this first attempt seemed completely worthless, which showed that even with specific instructions, creating things that none of the people working on it had seen before added new levels of challenge.

“I can see light through it, but not much else. It’s much more cloudy than the glass I have seen used to make vessels and in some temples.”

“I’m sorry, but for this to work, I need specifics.”

“I know, but I don’t know how to describe it enough for you.”

“I will try and walk you through it,” Sophus said.

The next two hours were some of the most frustrating of Lucilla’s life. Sophus had her perform dozens of experiments, giving as precise answers as she could, sometimes doing the experiment over and over to ensure the answers were correct.

Just about the time she was ready to pull the small transmitter out of her ear and chuck it into the street, Sophus said, “I believe I have deduced the problem with this run of glass.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“The sand being melted down has too many impurities in it that are not being removed in the heating process. The instructions we’d originally given were in hopes that they could heat the furnaces to the point of removing impurities in the silica, enough that the lenses would be functional after grinding. That is what is used in more modern glass-making systems, but it requires the furnaces to have a stability in heat that it seems has not been achieved yet. Since that isn’t working, there is another method, although it will take more time. I will give instructions for where to mine the quartz needed for an alternate method of glass making, as well as instructions for how to recognize it and grind it into grains that can be melted properly into transparent glass.”

Lucilla set the cloudy glass down and began writing down Sophus’s dictated notes. She understood the importance of getting this right, but this went much faster when Ky did it, or at least she preferred it when she wasn’t the one having to do it. She felt almost like a child again, doing her letters in front of her tutor, who would slap her knuckles every time she did something wrong. Thankfully, Sophus wasn’t able to repeat that part when she wrote a word wrong and had to go back and correct her error.

It was still very early on their timetable, but she had been hopeful that Hortensius’s enthusiasm had put them ahead of schedule, and she was disheartened that this part of their work would be delayed.

***

Londinium

“Yes, your excellency,” Maharbaal’s aide said when they entered the room.

The man’s close-fitting and highly adorned shenti and tight-fitted inner rope together making him seem impossibly thin. Maharbaal resisted the urge to roll his eyes, as he often had to do when dealing with his aide. The man was unfailingly loyal, which is why the governor had summoned him now, but his refusal to adapt to more lose fitting clothes and heavier outer garments that fit the dreary and cold weather of the Britannic isles had always baffled Maharbaal. The thin and tightly wound garments made sense in the hot African and Iberian sun, but here, it would leave a man shivering from the cold.

“I’ve prepared the message for the emperor. It is important you do not give it to any of his aides or lackeys. Find my agents there. They will ensure that, as my personal representative, you should be granted an audience to report on our dire situation. Some of my detractors might try to meet you at the docks and dissuade you or convince you to hand this over to them, or that they’re working for me. Be vigilant.”

“Yes, sire. I know the pass codes by heart. You can count on me.”

“Good. They’d like nothing more than to see me fail, losing the island to the damned Romans, forced to scuttle back to court with my tail between my legs. You need to make it clear to the emperor and his generals how serious our situation is. Inform them that our final attempt to break out and take the attack on the Romans has failed. We are outnumbered and at the mercy of these new catapults of theirs, which outrange anything we have. Don’t point out that we’ve lost all of our siege equipment, however. Make it clear we must have reinforcements if we are to survive and reestablish ourselves. I know there is an army on Hibernia, but their governor claims to be preoccupied dealing with the primitives there and says he is unable to send us any soldiers. A full relief army from home would be good, but at the very least, we need the emperor to order Aradus to send at least two thousand men to us so we can properly man our defenses as we wait for the relief army. If not, the city will fall and the empire will have to re-invade it. Remind his generals that, with his current activity in the east, they can’t afford to divert the necessary men to take the island and maintain their operations there.”

The governor had covered these items with his aide already, and it was all clearly spelled out, although more diplomatically, in his letter, but Maharbaal was animated. This posting was supposed to be the stepping stone for his career, one day leading him to run a province with real wealth and an opportunity to make a name for himself. Everything had fallen apart at the hands of the incompetents sent to lead his armies. If he didn’t find a way to save the situation, he would be held responsible if he returned to Carthage.

He well knew how the Emperor dealt with men that had failed. He’d thrown Bomilcar to the wolves, but that had not been enough.

“This next part is not in my letter. I need you to pass these instructions to my agents yourself. They are to begin spreading the word of the failure of the Roman traitor. They have to tie his involvement to the Emperor’s decree that we work with him, being careful to not implicate the Emperor in any mistake or error himself. There needs to be enough doubt in Caesius that the Emperor has no choice to but single him out for this failure and hold him personally responsible, to avoid having any of the man’s mistakes taint his glory. I will make sure the coward stays and dies here at the hands of his people, which will make it easier to assign blame to him. It will take time for this to happen, so it needs to be done right away. If reinforcements don’t come and I am forced to flee, the campaign against the Roman must be well underway so that I am not made an example of as soon as I step off the boat. Do you understand what you must do?”

“Yes, your excellency.”

Fool that he was, the man had played the game for a long time and knew how to operate at court. It was still a risk, since any man’s loyalty had a price, one that was often paid by competitors, but Maharbaal couldn’t go himself, so this was his only option.

“Good. Prepare yourself. I’ve sent orders for our most seaworthy ship to travel south as soon as the last supply shipment arrives from Hibernia with their dispatches. The man has been well paid, but don’t trust him. Be wary of treachery.”

“I will, your excellency.”

“Then go. Prepare yourself. I think it is unlikely I shall see you before I return to Carthage.”

The man bowed and left, leaving Maharbaal to fret over his future alone.

***

Devnum

“I understand it’s how things happened in your village, but when in Roman territory, you must follow Roman laws, just like Roman citizens have to follow your laws on Caledonian land,” Lucilla said to the Caledonian applicant, standing before her father’s throne, where she sat.

Ever since she returned, her father had been determined for her to throw herself back into the business of government. With her brother gone, she was the clear choice for successor and he wanted her to have as much experience in the daily functions an emperor had to deal with as possible.

True, it was out of the norm for a woman to inherit, but her marriage to Ky was a foregone conclusion at this point, at least to everyone who wasn’t Ky, and his acting as consort would be enough to make it palatable to the majority of Romans. Besides, she wouldn’t be just the emperor of the Romans, but of the entire Britannic empire, and she was one of the few leaders that both the Romans and the Caledonians would agree with.

“But that field was unused,” the man said, not seeming to understand the problem.

“Because he was leaving it to lay fallow, but even if he decided to leave it unused for no reason, that’s up to him. You are not allowed to use someone else’s land without their permission. I understand this was an honest mistake and things are done differently up north, so I will limit your punishment to either paying for removing the planting or allowing the land owner to simply sell the harvest as his own, whichever the owner prefers.”

“To fine a man for using untilled land is an insult,” the man said, angry.

To a degree, Lucilla understood his anger. For the Caledonians, at least before they came under the sway of the anti-slavery laws Ky had put into the foundations of the Britannic empire, it had been seen as common to sell anyone captured in a raid as property. As someone taken that very way and destined to be kept as a slave before Ky rode in and saved her, she was equally offended by their laws and traditions.

However, they’d agreed to let each people rule their own land as they saw fit, as long as it was within the bounds of the limitations put in place by the imperial senate, and the average person who traveled north or south for profit needed to understand that. Their relationships with their neighbors would still be contentious until everyone got used to the idea of each member’s independent sovereignty.

“I understand how you feel, and I sympathize. Think of it like this. What if a Roman man married a Caledonian woman and moved north to live in Caledonia? Years later they have a child who grows up to be rebellious. The father decides he does not like the child, and says he cannot inherit any of his property or live on his land any longer, and instead gave the land to his wife’s sister’s children. The child is then cast out, and must live as a beggar on the streets, asking passers-by for money. That is allowed in Rome. Should his neighbors be forced to live next to someone who would deny kinship?”

One of the strongest things in Caledonian culture was its kinship laws, which predated any actual written laws and had a firm stance on how families were expected to behave. For instance, it was expected that families would care for and support their kin, keeping them from being a burden on the rest of society as a whole. The only people seen on the street begging were the poor souls who’d lost all forms of kinship, usually by everyone they could possibly be related to dying off, leaving them as the sole surviving member of their family. Considering kinship stretched multiple generations, this took quite a run of bad luck to accomplish and was exceedingly rare.

It was considered harmful to society as a whole to kick a family member out and no longer treat them as kin, to the point where there would almost be less of a punishment for killing the person, rather than making them a burden on society as a whole.

“No. Family bonds are unbreakable.”

“Not in Roman lands. Would you accept a Roman going north and leaving children for the village to take care of?”

“No.”

“It is the same here. We are each expected to respect and adhere to the rules of where we are. This is a rule here. Normally, taking another man’s land would lead to some form of imprisonment or a larger fine, but I believe that, while we all get used to the new way of things, leniency is deserved. There should be no punitive punishment, and the restitution I ordered was just to make the farmer whose land you used whole, so your actions did not cost him money.”

The man was silent for a moment, and then grudgingly said, “Fine.”

“Thank you. I know this situation is difficult and I know you meant no harm. May the gods grand their favor on you, and I hope you find the fortune you came here for.”

The man just nodded and let himself be led away. Caledonians had their own gods and methods of worship, but they were generally accepting of the prayers of others, even if those prayers were to gods they didn’t worship.

She took a breath and waited for the next petitioner, when a messenger, looking dirty and tired, was brought in instead.

“Optio,” she said, noting his rank.

“With Amulius Tettius Velius’s compliments, my lady,” the messenger said in the formal language she’d had to adjust to now that she was back in court and not with Caledonian and Roman soldiers.

“Is it from Velius?” she asked, taking the scroll from the guard who had, in turn, taken it from the messenger.

“No, my lady. This came off of a boat this morning from Hibernia, delivered by one of the barbarians.”

“They aren’t barbarians, Optio.”

“As you say, my lady.”

Lucilla frowned, but didn’t comment on the man’s characterization any further. It would take time to teach the Romans to stop seeing everyone not born in their lands as barbarians. There were still daily altercations between Caledonians and Romans, where a Roman, often without doing it intentionally, insulted one of their new countrymen. It was, thankfully, slowly decreasing, at least in Devnum, thanks to a growing familiarity born by close contact, but it would be some time before Romans came to see the Caledonians as anything but equals. Apparently, this slow acceptance hadn’t done anything towards gaining the acceptance of others.

Instead, she simply said, “Thank you for your prompt delivery. Return to your camp and inform Velius I will be out to see him today.”

“Yes, my lady,” the soldier said, slapping fist to chest before turning smartly and striding out.

The message itself was from Llassar, and the one she’d been hoping to see ever since he left for Ériu, as he had called it. The Ulaid had officially requested military assistance against Carthage and its allies pressing in from the south, and were considering both a formal alliance and possibly even joining the empire itself, on similar terms to its current members.

She was impressed. Llassar had made it sound like he was unsure of his success when she’d asked him to travel across the channel that separated their two islands, but he’d managed to get everything she’d asked for, proving how valuable he really was.

“Call the members of the imperial senate together,” she said. “There will be an emergency session in two hours.”

Unlike how things had been before, when governors and the emperor could more or less declare military action at will and only needed senate approval to establish new governorships or appoint new legates; the new empire required the emperor to get approval from the imperial senate before declaring war, or attacking a new opponent. It had been one of the concessions her father and Ky had been forced to give during their work in making what Ky called “a professional army.”

Before the military reforms, legates and tribunes were political appointees, allowing certain blocks to maintain favors with military commands, a setup that had allowed for the recent insurrection. The recent insurrection attempt proved how dangerous that could be, but the Senators had been hesitant to agree to a law that would strip them of that power, the Romans, on the grounds that it was how it was always done, and the Caledonians because their military and political leadership had always been the exact same thing.

Ky and her father finally convinced them to give up the right to appoint commanders by giving them the sole right to declare war, which is why she had to now go asking for their permission.

She and her father had already discussed this, and decided that it would be best to have her do it instead of her father. She had already spoken to the Caledonian senators, and more or less convinced them that this was necessary. Her father had been attempting the same with the Roman senators, and had gotten significant pushback from them. While the Caledonians saw the Ulaid as a peer, even if one regularly raided and fought against, the Roman senators harbored old prejudices that they were having difficulty letting go of.

After another stop to see her father and confer with him about their strategy of dealing with the Romans, she made her way to the rebuilt forum, which the imperial senate shared with the Roman senate.

“Gentleman,” she said after being announced and waiting through the traditional recitation of titles and virtues that the Roman senators still insisted upon. “I appreciate you meeting with me on short notice, but a question has come before us that we must answer quickly.”

“If this is about the Barbarians, we already made our feelings about this clear to your father,” Taenaris said.

Taenaris had been a loyal supporter of her father since the early days of his reign and had been the leader of the loyalist block of senators before the creation of the imperial Senate. The first senators had been appointed, instead of elected, because of the need to get the government set up and underway and he had been her father’s first choice as one of Rome’s five allotted senators.

Oddly, the usually loyal Taenaris had become notably more prickly and independent following his appointment. She had discussed him with her father, who had seemed perplexed but generally unconcerned about the development, even though he was now the one giving the most pushback about sending troops to assist the Ulaid.

“Watch who you call Barbarians, Roman,” Roti, a large, white-bearded Caledonian giant, who had been the leaders of one of the northernmost tribes before Talogren appointed him to the Senate.

“I apologize,” Taenaris said, clearly not meaning it. “Old habits die hard. My point is, we have our own issues and our military is already stretched thin. Yes, we’ve won a great victory, but the Carthaginians will be sending a relief army, one that they can land anywhere they choose along our coastline, and there is little we can do to stop it. We need every man we can spare watching the coast, giving the legions time to gather and counter their attack. I feel for the Ulaid, but their problems are their own.”

All of the Romans began nodding their heads in agreement, as did one of the Caledonians, which was a bad sign. She couldn’t fault them, at least not completely, especially her fellow Romans. They were afraid, the Romans most of all, and wanted to pull back and sit in a shell like a turtle.

“I understand your fear, but that would be the wrong reaction. We’ve tried this before. We had men on our borders, guarding against an army that didn’t need boats to send troops towards us, and they got within sight of the walls of this very city before they were stopped. The man who digs a hole to hide in often finds that hole looks a lot like a grave, when the enemy finds them. We can’t protect ourselves by hiding. The Consul has made it clear that his plan for stopping the Carthaginians is by taking the fight to them. For a hundred years, we tried to ignore the Carthaginians to the south and just protect our borders, and it didn’t work. They still came for us. We are, right now, as safe as we have been in any of our lifetimes, and it’s because we went to them.”

“There is a difference between proactive and foolhardy. I don’t hear the Consul talking about putting our legions on boats and attacking Africa itself.”

“We’re not talking about Africa. We’re talking about an island barely a stone’s throw across the channel that separates us. When they conquer the Ulaid and have laid claim to all of Ériu, what do you think they will do next? Do you think they will stop there? Or do you think they will use that island as a staging ground to get their armies safely across the sea and ready to invade? Being able to call for reinforcements a few mille passus from our shores is a lot easier than having to wait for troops to come all the way from Africa.”

“Couldn’t they come from Germania just as easily? Or Iberia?”

“Yes, and the Consul plans on taking the fight there, eventually. But we don’t have possible allies who could join our fight on the continent, at least not that we know of. We do have those allies here, however. Rome is facing a manpower shortage. Even with the wondrous technology the Consul is bringing us, we do not have the manpower to stop the never-ending hordes of men the Carthaginians can send against us. We need allies, and there aren’t many people left not currently controlled by the Carthaginians we can turn to. Letting the Ulaid be destroyed hurts our chances in the future and helps the Carthaginians. If you won’t vote to send help because it’s the right thing to do, vote to send help because in doing so, we help ourselves.”

“Do we even have the manpower to help them without wasting our legions?” Sandilianus asked. “Many of the Caledonians who came south to help win the Battle of Venonis have returned for planting season. Our strength has been whittled down after several battles, and we’ve only been able to replace them with defecting enemy soldiers and ex-slaves.”

She found it odd that the Senator had picked up the name that had been growing among the common people for the victory that had allowed the Britannian’s to clear the island of the Carthaginians. Sandilianus had been the mayor of a southern town and the de facto leader of the citizens and businesses that had been operating closest to the Carthaginians for generations. She didn’t blame the masses, most of whom had never ventured near the southern border to know how far the town of Venonis, which had been in Carthaginian control since her grandfather’s time, was a half day's ride from the site of the battle. If anyone should have known that, it would be Sandilianus, although it was hard to go against the public consensus on things like that.

“We still have several thousand Caledonians under arms and the new men in the ranks performed their duties well during the battle. The Consul believes he has the manpower necessary to take Londinium and hold the coasts now. He specifically sent these three legions north so that they would be available to come to the Ulaid’s aid, when needed. Considering how his strategy has worked for us in the past, I for one trust his judgment on this.”

Sandilianus sat back down, chastised. She could see that, if reason didn’t convince them, then at least appealing to their faith in Ky, had. For now, his name still had a magic air to it, able to sway men when other arguments would not. Of course, it only took one loss for his name to lose the power it enjoyed.

“This isn’t the time for being timid,” Lucilla said when no one else spoke up immediately. “We may have won a battle, but we are not out of danger. We still sit on the brink. If anything, our victory will force the Carthaginians to push even harder to destroy us. Their empire rests on the backs of conquered nations. They cannot allow Britannia to exist as an example for all of those subjugated people, that the Carthaginian empire is not invincible. This is a time for boldness.”

The senators went back and forth among themselves for another hour, discussing what it would take for them to vote for sending the legions. It quickly became clear that enough of the men supported the action to make it a foregone conclusion, but she wanted a unanimous vote. The Five Caledonians, along with two of the Romans, agreed outright.

It took time, but she was able to convince the other two holdouts that it was in their best interests to support the Ulaid. The major contention wasn’t actually sending men and arms to aid them, but what would happen if the Ulaid asked to be part of the alliance?

The Romans were worried about diluting their power, which was always their concern and one of the things that almost derailed the forming of the empire in the first place. Lucilla managed to convince them to deal with that when it happened, but if Ulaid did ask to join the empire as an equal member, she wouldn’t be able to manage this herself. She, her father, and Ky would have to take it on as a united front. This time, they wouldn’t have a Carthaginian army at their doorstep and politicians tended to be short-sighted when it came to giving up power.

That was a problem for another day. For now, she had their agreement to send the three gathered legions to Ériu.