The Trumpets of Mars (Imperium #2) - Chapter 11

The Village of Pertmig

Ky was once again looking down on a village scrambling to get women and children to safety as the warriors formed up to meet the oncoming host at his back. This was the third village they’d come to in the last four days and Ky’s soul was tired. He’d tried to reason with each of them, convince them to join Talogren and forestall what was going to happen. And both had refused him.

The massacres that followed each had been complete. Not a man had been left standing, and what happened to the innocents had been worse. He’d managed to hold Talogren to the agreement the leader had signed, which included provisions stopping the taking of any slaves in raids and victories. He’d been less successful in stopping the battle-high Caledonian warriors from their worst instincts.

It wasn’t just the Caledonii. The Romans had shown after the battle of Devnum and their sack of the Carthaginian wagon train and camp followers that they were equally as brutal as their northern neighbors. He hoped that, once he introduced less hands-on and brutal ways of fighting, they might be able to change the way the people of this time fought and, ultimately, how they thought.

He did manage to convince Talogren to take the orphaned children, of which there were many, back to friendly villages to be raised. After all, even though they had fought to keep from joining his league, they were still culturally all one people.

They had also made sure that a few survivors were sent to the next village after each victory, to spread the tale of what had happened to Talogren’s previous victims. Ky hoped that, in this at least, the destruction could serve a purpose.

At first, it seemed like this would just be another repeat of the previous two visits. Ky would go and demand they negotiate their surrender, agreeing to come to Talogren’s side, allowing his forces to continue their sweep along the northwestern edge of Britannia, where the holdouts were braced.

It was only as he rode up to the small gathering of headmen that Ky noticed something different. The first was that there were two women among the assembled men. The Caledonii were more accepting of a woman in ‘male’ roles than the Romans were, but so far he’d seen none engaged in combat or allowed to participate in negotiations, which made this a change. The other thing that jumped out at him was how much older the men were than they’d been with the previous delegations.

Those had been made up of an elderly headman and several young warriors. This time, the entire party, including the women, were old by the standards of the time.

“I’ve come to negotiate on behalf of Talogren and the Caledonian league and the Britannic Empire. We request …”

“We know your demands,” the headman said. “Your victims made their way to us, just as you intended.”

“I regret that you had to hear about the atrocities that happened to their villages and more so that those atrocities had to happen at all. I am here to offer you the same chance to avoid what might happen as I offered them. Talogren wants you to be part of his league, to see prosperity and security, but only as a contributing member. He cannot allow independent villages to remain in his rear, threatening the league and its place in the new Empire.”

“Although our warriors are strong and stand ready to fight, we understand the inevitable conclusion of what would happen if we do. For our wives and children, we are willing to surrender. With me are the headmen of Middale, Midstrath, and Borsbeg, which is every village south of Kincarn, who are also open to hearing what your commander has to say, if he will come and talk.”

Kincarn was what the locals called the mountain people in his time named Ben Nevis peak, and represented a large portion of the remaining independent villages, leaving only a loose confederation further north standing separate from Talogren’s league. None were particularly large, but it was still a fair amount of people when taken collectively, none of whom Ky wanted to see slaughtered if he could prevent it.

“I am gladdened to hear you’re willing to talk about a peaceful settlement to this. You know who I am?”

“We may be remote, but even we’ve heard of the hand of death,” the headman said, his eyes falling to the sword Ky had sheathed against his saddle.

Ky knew he’d started getting a nickname among the Caledonii and wished it had been something a little less ominous, even if he’d earned the title over the last week.

“I see. Then I hope you will take my pledge of safe conduct back to Talogren’s camp, where we can discuss what will be expected of you. If you do decide to turn his offer down, I will guarantee you that I will return you unharmed to this same spot.”

“Before you kill all of us,” one of the other men said.

“Only if I’m left no other choice.”

“It appears we’re the ones left without choices. Go, we will follow you.”

Ky led them through the Caledonian horde that opened up as they approached and then closed in behind them like a tide rolling back in, the warriors all but snarling at the small group as Ky led them deeper into the Caledonian line. It had all been geared to intimidate the men and show them how hopeless their situation was.

Normally, Talogren was easy to find, sitting smack in the front of the line, ready to lead all of his men into battle. Before the first village they set upon, they’d agreed that if the men rode back to the lines with Ky, Talogren would pull back to the tent they set up ahead of time at the rear of the line, to force the men to see just what they were up against if they chose to turn the Caledonian leader down.

Talogren’s tent had a pair of the largest men they could find flanking its entrance flap as one last message before they ventured inside. Ky couldn’t imagine where they found these giants. Both men stood at more than six and a half feet and were twice as wide across as two normal-sized men. How anyone managed to move carrying all that muscle, seemed impossible. They were indeed imposing.

Ky pulled the tent flap aside and gestured for the men to enter. Talogren was already seated on the large chair in the back of the open tent, centered upon the doorway. It wasn’t quite a throne, but it wasn’t far off, especially when the visitors noted that it was the only seat present, except for the ground. They would either have to sit on the ground in front of Talogren, like children would in front of their father, or stand in front of him, clearly inferior. The Caledonii had even found a way to put together a platform for the chair to sit upon, lifting him up off the ground enough that, unless any of these men were like the two brutes outside, they remained at his eye level even while he was seated.

The throne-like chair was traditional among the north men, but Ky had made the suggestion of removing the other seating and building a platform to raise him up, so that at no point could the men look down on him. It was one more piece of the psychological puzzle that Ky wanted the headmen to confront, even though he’d started to despair that he’d ever get any of them this far.

They’d built the platform wide enough for someone to stand on it next to Talogren’s chair, which is exactly what Ky did as he walked around the headmen and moved into his position. He stood exactly next to the chair, the arrangement making it clear that Talogren was in charge without Ky standing behind him as a flunky.

“I’m glad you came to your senses,” Talogren said, breaking the silence.

“We had little choice. We’ve heard word of the slaughters that happened to the villages south of here. We are just as proud as any of them, but we are not fools. We can see when a situation is hopeless. Tell us your terms and then be on your way, so we may return to our lives.”

“I don’t think you understand yet what this is about. We are not here to raid you for slaves or grain,” the chieftain said, speaking slowly to make sure they got every word. “There are no terms. You will surrender and become a member of our league, or you will die. It’s as simple as that.”

“You say you aren’t here for our goods and people, but we heard your offer the first time, before you joined with the city shitters. You demand grain as taxes and men to fight in your armies. What’s the difference if they’re taken through coercion or agreement, they’re still gone.”

“When we aren’t at war, your men can return home, and the grain is to help feed those men while they’re in the field. In return that army will be able to defend you if the time comes.”

“What about the death worshipers? You say our men can return home when the fighting is over, but we’ve all heard stories of how powerful they are, and you’ve made us their enemy when you joined with the Romans. We won’t have any men left to defend us when they finish the Romans and continue into our lands.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the stories, which is why I formed this alliance with the Romans. The death worshipers never stop. They conquer everything their hand touches, which means it would only be a matter of time before they fell on us. Neither we nor the Romans were powerful enough to stop them on our own, but my hope is that together we might still survive.”

“A slave to one is no different than a slave to the other.”

“We aren’t their slave, we’re their equals, but I’m not here to answer your questions or prove our decisions to you. You can go back to your village and wait for our warriors, or join us. Which is it?”

“Fy nghynefin yq fy nefoedd,” the other man said, or at least that’s what Ky heard.

He’d grown so used to the real-time translation from Sophus, that he’d stopped noticing it until it was gone and all that remained was the speech as the man in front of him his used it.

“Sophus?” Ky queried, and worryingly got no answer.

“Sophus?” He repeated.

“Comm … I … Diff,” the reply finally came back, garbled and almost unintelligible.

It was a good thing that Ky was standing next to the large wooden chair, because suddenly, without warning, his left leg suddenly stopped holding his weight. It felt almost like it belonged to someone else as he lost all control and feeling of it.

Ky’s hand shot out and gripped the side of the chair. His other leg was working well enough to hold him up, but he was wobbly and if he tried to move, he’d collapse. Talogren must have felt the weight Ky was putting on the chair, because the Caledonian leader looked to the side for a moment, making eye contact. Ky was still not receiving translation from anyone around him and was only hearing gibberish, so asking Talogren to send the men away would do no good. Ky returned the chieftain’s gaze, and nodded his head at the door, which was the most he could do, since the village leaders were also looking at him, and any message indication he gave of problems would be seen by them at the same time.

Thankfully, Talogren was a smart man. Between feeling Ky holding himself up against the chair and the head nod, the chieftain worked out something was wrong. It still took several long minutes of Talogren talking to them, along with a few replies, before he dismissed the men out of the tent.

His timing couldn’t have been better, as the AI that controlled large parts of his biology along with half of his motor control began shutting down. Ky knew that independent processes would keep his major organs going, but enough of the nanites were shutting down, along with the motor assist, that Ky wasn’t getting enough resources to stay conscious. His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed into darkness.

Devnum

It was late when Lucilla finally rose. She’d been getting up early every morning to train most days, but she’d been so exhausted she decided to skip one day. After hearing about what happened to her the night before, her father had decided that enough was enough. The city guard was no longer effectively protecting the city and it was clear that at some level the remaining insurrectionists had penetrated their ranks.

Removing a force that had been in place for decades and replacing it with one that was both newly formed and stretched to its max was not an easy task, and required a lot of decisions to be made. Decisions that Lucilla felt she must be part of. The guard leadership wasn’t happy to hear of the decision. The commander and his top lieutenants were summarily sacked. They would not be allowed to join the Praetorians or given any other position in the government that would offer anywhere near the level of power and prestige they’d had as leaders of the capital’s city guard. Lucilla had counseled caution, since that would drive some of the men directly into the insurrectionists’ hands.

Ramirus, crafty as ever, was hoping that might actually happen. Since the entire guard was changing over, he thought it unlikely they’d be able to bring much in the way of intel to the malcontents, and maybe the ability to reach out to some higher-level personal contacts. In exchange, Ramirus thought they could use some of these people as bait. There weren’t that many of them, and they would all be known to the spymaster’s people, and followed closely. Ramirus planned on keeping track of everyone they talked to, and followed them in turn. It would be a big operation and need as many of his men as he could get his hands on, but he thought it was their best shot at finally figuring out who some of the ring leaders behind the murders and the attack on Lucilla really were.

While Lucilla thought it was still much too risky, since some of the guardsmen would remain loyal to them, it could place a snake in their midst. Her father, however, liked the plan. He’d been growing more impatient and frustrated with the lack of progress they’d shown in finding any of the people behind the attacks.

The rest of the soldiers, from the junior officers on down, were given the option of transferring to the Praetorians or the legions themselves, where they’d be allowed to keep their rank and the level of pay that provided. Any of the men who asked to join the Praetorians would have to undergo intense scrutiny. More so than the regular recruits did, and that was already significant.

What’s more, none of the men could serve in Devnum. Faenius said that, regardless of what kind of checks they managed to pass, he would not chance one of the men who’d helped keep the guard away from the area of the murders continuing to offer aide to the insurrectionists.

No matter the guarantees that the men were honest and loyal citizens, he was going to send them to other areas the Praetorians were being tasked with protecting. Probably one of the roadway patrols looking for brigands or as part of the force guarding the border with the Caledonii.

The switch had to happen right away. Once the guard commanders were notified it was happening, they all instantly became possible liabilities and had to go. Unfortunately, that meant pulling the rest of the Praetorians who’d been in training into service. While Velius would be happy to be getting the veterans who’d been loaned as a training cadre, Faenius was concerned they were all too green and too few in numbers to do the job properly.

The Emperor, however, wouldn’t allow them to hold off. The attack on Lucilla had been the last straw. They would be able to start recruiting Caledonians soon, and more men would come over to the Praetorians as time passed. Like the legions, they now had a steady pay from the Emperor instead of promises of land and booty along with pay and benefits after they retired. Unlike the legions, however, they weren’t expected to fight a Carthaginian army several times their size, which could mean more men volunteering, although that would be countered by how picky the guard would have to be. The legions sometimes brought in men from the less civilized parts of society that might be good soldiers but would make terrible guardsmen.

At least getting up late meant she was somewhere private. She usually didn’t try to contact Ky until she’d been up for several hours, since she knew he didn’t sleep as much as he probably should and it was hard to predict how late they may have marched the previous day. If he was awake but busy, he could ignore her summons, but if he was asleep, he couldn’t just ignore it and continue sleeping.

She did, however, want to contact him as soon as possible. Part of being designated to stand in his stead while he was up north was to pass through orders and suggestions, but the other part was to notify him of any major changes, since those could impact his plans. It seemed like a good bet that completely sacking the city guard and replacing them with the Praetorians would do just that, and definitely counted as a major change. He’d had several plans for Faenius’s command and had already complained several times about their being low on manpower and how that affected the areas they could reasonably cover.

Forcing them to also act as the city guard for Devnum would stretch that manpower even further, possibly to the point where Ky would have to change his plans for them. She just hoped enough other things didn’t rely on them and it wouldn’t change his long-term strategy.

She also needed to tell him about the assassination attempt on her. It might be less critical, as far as his long-term planning had gone, but she knew he’d be upset if she kept it from him. Part of her wanted to, since past history had shown he might decide to get a horse and ride south to rescue her. Of course, this was a difference from past events, since she was clearly safe, for now, but there was a chance he’d decide she wasn’t safe enough.

She had, however, pushed their relationship to the point where she worried keeping secrets from him might do it harm. For all of his amazing knowledge, he was completely lost when it came to how men and women relate to each other. Like Ky and his battle plans, she had a long-term strategy for the two of them, since she decided she would eventually make him hers. Keeping something like the attempt on her life secret might help her sanity, but it could hurt her strategy, and she wasn’t willing to do that. Besides, he’d find out as soon as he returned to town.

“Sophus,” she said quietly.

She might have privacy, but it was best if she didn’t speak loud enough that the guards on the other side of her door could hear her talking to herself.

She waited for several seconds. Lucilla was still unclear exactly what Sophus was, beyond an apparently all-knowing disembodied voice, but she knew he wasn’t held to the same limitations as Ky or the rest of them. He’d shown he could be speaking and working with Ky and her simultaneously with apparently no loss of focus or concentration. He normally answered her right away, as if he’d been poised, waiting for her to ask for him. The fact that he didn’t worried her.

She reached up and tapped the nearly invisible piece of material in her ear like Ky showed her, which should signal both Ky and Sophus together. She hadn’t had to use it much because, at her acquiescence, Sophus was always listening for her, both to have access to any information she might get and to monitor her condition, He called it ‘keeping the channel open,’ which didn’t mean anything to her except that she just had to say his name, and he’d answer.

Again, nothing happened. She tried twice more, thinking maybe she got the motion wrong, and got the same result each time.

This was uncharted waters, and it worried her.