The Trumpets of Mars (Imperium #2) - Chapter 26

Caledonian Camps Outside Devnum

Lucilla weaved through the rows of tents looking, occasionally stopping to say hello to this group or that. Considering how she’d grown up, always in the public eye, she was used to receiving attention. She’d traveled legion camps numerous times over her life, both as a younger woman as part of one of her father’s or brother’s entourages and later in her own capacity as a leader of Rome. The reception she got every time she came into a Caledonian camp was on a completely different level than any of her previous experiences, however.

At first, before she traveled north, it had been overwhelming, but almost patronizingly so, almost like she was some kind of mascot. Since the events in the north, however, that had changed. Now the reactions ranged from simple comradeship to deep respect to an almost sense of awe, with the men reaching to touch the hem of her tunic as she went by. She had to admit that the later reaction made her deeply uncomfortable and made her realize why Ky had pushed so hard against any kind of similar response he’d received from the Romans.

Finding Llassar’s tent, she stopped outside the unguarded entrance and coughed loudly, which was traditionally how the Caledonians, who had cloth flaps for doors even in their most built-up cities, introduced themselves instead of just barging in on the occupant.

“Come,” Llassar said, and Lucilla pushed through the flap to find the Caledonian leader sitting on a stool at a small Roman-style camp table on one side of his tent.

She was actually glad to see the table, since it was another sign of the Caledonians’ rapid adoption of some Roman ways, which would ultimately help bring the two allies together. It did remind her that she needed to talk to people she knew, poets and minor celebrities, about publicly adopting some of the more palatable Caledonian traditions, since what was really needed to bring the allies together was a two-way adoption of social and cultural norms, not just the Caledonian’s adopting ideas from the Romans.

That was, however, a thought for another time. She’d promised Ky she would take care of getting a messenger sent to Hibernia, and she meant to prove to him that she could be trusted to handle things like this.

Llassar turned and, finally recognizing who’d come into his tent, stood and gave a slight bow of his head, saying, “What can I do for you?”

She smiled at him, unable to contain how much she found his continuous straightforward nature endearing. While Romans and even many Caledonians would have apologized for remaining seated as she entered or said “my lady” or other honorifics, Llassar simply asked what she wanted.

“I need your help, or at least your direction.”

“You know that, if there is any help I have to offer, it’s yours,” he said, pointing at a small stool for her to sit on while he returned to the stool he’d been on a moment before.

“I know, and I appreciate that. The Consul and I are starting to look forward to what happens next, after we defeat the Carthaginian army coming for us. One of the things we are looking toward is opening up relationships with other people who might be able to help us in our war with the Carthaginians. Specifically, we’ve received reports of Carthaginian landings on Hibernia and the impressing of locals into slave labor to help them establish a foothold, most likely as an alternative base to strike at us, should we secure all of Britannia. We think this might give the Hibernians living there an incentive to join us in pushing back the Carthaginian threat.”

“The Ériu,” Llassar said.

“What?” Lucilla asked, slightly confused at the seemingly random non-sequitur.

“They call themselves the Ériu, not the Hibernians. Much like your calling my people the Picts, which is a name you Romans chose for another people, instead of calling us by our proper names.”

“I apologize, although I think this points to why we need to find someone to help us make contact. I hope I have shown that I respect your culture and that my ignorance shouldn’t be taken as a sign of contempt.”

“It’s not, but I think all of you need to do better trying to learn about other cultures you intend to interact with, instead of just defaulting to your own prejudices.”

“You are correct and both the Consul and I are trying to change that kind of attitude in Rome. Again, it’s why I’m here, speaking to you.”

She knew that Llassar wasn’t trying to be rude. He’d made it clear several times how much it bothered him when Romans, or anyone, tried to assume their culture was somehow the default, and that his people should change their beliefs and understandings to better align with the Romans, instead of vice versa. She hoped that attitude could help them, in this instance, since it might mean he’d have a better chance finding the right person to send as their representatives to the Ériu.

“So what exactly are you asking for?”

“Your people have been in contact with the Ériu longer and more frequently than the Romans. We need someone who can go to them and present our case to them.”

“Which is?”

“The same one we presented to your people. The Carthaginians are a threat to everyone, and a direct threat to them. They will not stop at bases on the southern shore, and it is only a matter of time until Carthaginian phalanxes are marching into their cities and enslaving their children to feed their ever-growing need for soldiers. We are standing against them, and we are asking them to stand with us. We’d like for them to send a representative to negotiate with the Britannic Empire, not just the Romans, for an alliance. This could be as little as a military alliance, however we are open to the possibility of expanding the Empire, as long as this deal meets the approval of the imperial senate, on similar terms as the current members. We are offering favorable trade, technologies, open markets, and mutual assistance. All we ask in return is a willingness to help us defeat the Carthaginian scourge.”

Llassar didn’t answer at first, and Lucilla was concerned he might say that the Caledonians had no interest in more members of their alliance.

“I assume you haven’t spoken to Talogren about this?”

“No. I am here speaking to you, to get your advice on how to proceed. I want to clarify that I am not here as a Roman and we are not making this offer as one of two members of an alliance. My father, Ky, and I are all firm believers in the Empire we made. An Empire composed of two peoples with one goal: to make a better world. Any offer we make must be approved by two-thirds of the imperial senators, which means by representatives for both Rome and Caledonia, and then agreed to by the Emperor. I am asking for your advice on whom to send to represent the Empire as a whole.”

“I see,” he said, his eyes continuing their constant judging, as he did with everyone he dealt with. After a long pause, he said, “I can think of one person who would make a good representative for the Empire.”

“Good. Who?” Lucilla asked.

“Me,” he said, cracking one of his rare smiles.

“You?”

“Yes, me. Did you know I spent more than two years as a … guest, of the Ériu?”

“A guest?”

“I was on a ship that got washed out to sea and ended up on their shores, where I was taken to Emain Macha, their capital, and put into the service of Eochaid Salbuide, their king.”

“So, you know the rulers of the island?”

“Ulaid only controls the northern reaches. South of them are the Airgialla, which is actually several kingdoms that broke away from the Ulaid and formed their own confederation. There are more kingdoms south of that, closer to the areas your reports say the Carthaginians have been operating out of, but I never encountered those people.”

“But you know them, at least the northern people. If we convinced them, could they convince the others?”

“It’s hard to say. I was only there for two years, but there is a lot of hatred among the various kingdoms. We are closer to you Romans, as far as being a single people, than we are to the Ériu, if that gives you an idea of how hard it will be to get all of the people to work together.”

“But we have a starting point. If you could talk to this king of theirs could you convince him of the benefits of joining us?”

“Possibly. He will probably ask for help, bringing the other kingdoms under his control, in exchange.”

“This isn’t like getting individual settlements to join a confederation that already controls the majority of a region, and Ky was hesitant about even that. He has a very different set of ideas when it comes to how people should be governed.”

“I’ve noticed. I admire many things about the Consul, but he is naive at times. Any alliance with the Ériu won’t matter if their entire focus must remain on keeping control of the lands they already control. If you want them to commit their people to our common cause, you are going to have to help them make sure their home front is secure.”

“So you’re suggesting we pick a side and support them? Do we have the manpower for this?”

“No, but we do have the supplies. I’ve seen Ériu metalwork. It’s shit. Their weapons always break and they have nothing like your arcuballista.”

“You understand one ruling elite over a pacified but hostile populace does us little good, right? If we are going to get the people to enlist in the legions and give us the manpower to fight back, we need the bulk of the population to be willing participants. We won’t have the manpower to continually send legions to help secure our rear.”

“I understand, although when it comes to the Ériu, war is their primary way of discussing politics. Although I described large kingdoms, those are closer to over-kings, each ruling over smaller kings who control a single village or a small collection of villages and some of the countryside. Properly funded, however, I think the Uliad could convince many of those lower kings to switch allegiances.”

“Good. Are you willing to do this? To go to them and negotiate an alliance? We will back you as well as we can. You just need to get them to agree to send emissaries to negotiate with Ky and my father and some idea of what we want those emissaries to agree to.”

“Like I said, they are a unique people and I can’t guarantee what any of their actions will be, but I can try.”

“Good. I know Talogren sent you to keep control of the men. Do you have any thoughts on who you could give the task to, with you gone?”

“Yes. You.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but …”

“I keep telling you, this has nothing to do with my confidence in you. You are as much of a central figure to my people, or at least those Caledonians currently here in the south, as I am. They’ll listen to you.”

“I appreciate you reminding me of their support, but I also have political duties that I have to attend to. I am happy to lend my support whenever needed, but I need someone to handle the day-to-day duties of commanding the Caledonian forces.”

“Ohh,” he said, looking away in embarrassment.

Lucilla couldn’t help but find it funny that a man who so often stayed quiet would end up embarrassed for speaking before hearing the other person out.

“Have whoever you put in command find me, and good luck on your journey. I can’t tell you how important building up additional alliances is to our long-term survival against the Carthaginians.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Londinium

“I’m concerned about how few of our scouts are coming back,” Bomilcar said, looking down at the large map laid out on the table.

The room was packed with commanders, aides, and sub-commanders, all waiting to find out when the campaign they’d been sent here for would begin. Everyone had heard the rumors of how hard the Governor was pushing Bomilcar to begin the campaign against the Romans. Although it had become common knowledge that they had orders to start as soon as the last units arrived from the continent, that had seemed like a far-off moment for the men, many of whom had been assembled for months, waiting for the rest of the forces to gather. Now that the last boatload of men had arrived, the time for planning and training was over, and everyone was a little on edge.

None of the men doubted their ultimate victory, considering the vast host assembled to destroy the Romans, but enough had heard from survivors of the last army to march north to make everyone a little nervous about their own personal chances for survival.

“They have been very aggressive, but we have a firm count of the number of men in the Roman army,” one of the commanders said, pointing at the small figures placed around Devnum representing the Roman legions and their auxiliaries. “They are vastly outnumbered, and almost half of their forces are barbarians from the north, not regular soldiers. There’s little they can do to stop us. We know the roads are intact and passable, even with the snow still on the ground.”

“I’d remind you the Romans outnumbered Hannibal at Cannae and suggest you consider how that turned out.”

“With respect, General, Hannibal’s army was well trained and disciplined, wasn’t made up mostly of barbarians, and their cavalry was able to push back the Roman screens enough, making the encirclement possible. The Romans have a third of the number of horsemen we do, even if most of ours are also auxiliary. It’s impossible they’ll be able to pull us into a trap like the one Hannibal was able to set.”

“I think you’re underestimating the Romans. They already defeated a much larger army once, and that was without having months to plan a response. Don’t get overconfident.”

The man nodded but didn’t take back his complaint. Bomilcar frowned. Too many men had grown used to victories against smaller tribes in Germania or quelling revolts in province districts. All but a handful of the commanders assembled for this new army had fought a well-trained military, and those that had fought in the east, against cavalry and phalanxes similar to the ones used by Carthage. Rome might not be the empire it once was, but it was still dangerous. Bomilcar had studied Roman tactics, especially their legions, and had been impressed with what he’d seen. Yes, they had been defeated numerous times in the past, but his subordinates paid too much attention to the final disposition of the battle and not enough attention to the casualty figures.

Except in a few cases, Roman legions were able to inflict serious damage to any force they faced, even ones that had numeric and strategic advantages; and that had been before their new Consul arrived. Although the information they’d received from the Emperor’s turncoat son indicated he was just a figurehead looking to amass power, independent sources all pointed to the man the Romans called The Sword of Jupiter as the real reason they’d so completely crushed Zaracas’s army.

Spies independent from Caesius, who Bomilcar was pretty sure was altering any information he got to fit the narrative he was trying to build for the governor, indicated that the Roman Consul had been hard at work training his forces all winter. They’d also heard rumors of new weapons the Romans were developing, although none had been able to get any of these weapons back for the Carthaginians to examine. Not for the first time, Bomilcar lamented the fact that they’d had so many problems getting spies into the Roman Capitol.

One of his biggest annoyances with Caesius was the younger man’s success at convincing the governor of his value through his contacts in what was left of the Roman rebels who’d stayed in the city. If Bomilcar had had access to the agents working directly for Caesius, he was certain he’d have been able to better anticipate the Roman’s plans. As it was, the younger man was wasting their advantage by sharing rumor and gossip as fact and focusing too little on things like a detailed description of weapons and manpower.

His problem, at the moment, was how freely the governor had been at disseminating Caesius’s worthless intelligence reports to his commanders, with their focus on barbarians and meaningless political murders, causing many of them to become overconfident.

“They may be under strength and mostly made up of auxiliaries, but they can still be dangerous. They know we are coming, and they have been working hard at keeping any scouts or spies from seeing what’s happening in multiple fairly large areas. We’ve even got word that entire villages have been emptied, probably in an attempt to reduce the chance of someone seeing what they were up to and selling the information to one of our agents. For all we know, they could be holding entire legions in these areas in secret.”

“You know that isn’t possible, general. We have good reports on all of their force movements since well before the Romans began patrolling these areas so heavily. We have kept track of every Roman legion and auxiliary force, and would have known if any men were moved into these areas. We even know their last legion is, even now, on the way south to join the rest of their forces. We might not know what the Romans are doing in these areas, but it shouldn’t matter. Look how spread out they are. There are almost a dozen across the entire border, some hundreds of miles from each other. The pattern makes no sense.”

“And yet, it exists. Several of these areas are along the road north to Devnum. The Romans have to know it’s the only road large enough to let an army our size travel north, especially with the ground still covered in snow. They’re doing this for a reason.”

“I agree they probably are, generally, but with the size of our army, does it ma…”

The sub-commander was just ramping up to his point when the door to the large room they were gathered in burst open and the governor, in all his finery and regalia, burst into the room. Bomilcar gritted his teeth, preparing for the tirade he knew was coming. He’d heard a lot of things about Maharbaal before being transferred to lead the battle here, most of them bad. Whatever he’d heard had paled in comparison to how the man came off in person. Every interaction he’d had with the vain and arrogant man had ended with screams and threats, and this one promised to be no different as he marched straight to Bomilcar, stopping when his face was only inches away from the general’s own.

“General, why haven’t you assembled your troops to march yet?” he vehemently demanded, spittle flying from his mouth.

“The troops just disembarked this morning. It takes a few hours for the men to readjust to being on solid ground and getting enough food in their bellies to ready them for a long march. Although I again point out we would lose fewer men on the march, and move faster against the Romans, if we waited until the snows thawed at least. This many men will be slow to march on their own, but being forced to stay on the only road able to take us north in these conditions means a slow march that the Romans will easily predict.”

“Excuses. All you ever give are excuses for why you’re unable to carry out the emperor’s demands. I don’t give a damn what you think these men need or want. What I care about is doing my duty, which is to destroy the Romans and pacify this island for our emperor. These men can recover on the march or they can recover in the dungeons. There will be no waiting for the snow to melt or gathering of supplies or requests for more soldiers. I don’t care what friends you have in the imperial court, if your army is still encamped by this evening, you’ll be the one in my dungeons.”

It took everything Bomilcar had in him not to reply in kind, pointing out exactly why he was a fool. Maharbaal had been growing more unhinged every day and there was no telling what kind of reaction he’d have to such a direct challenge. Bomilcar knew the emperor was pushing the governor hard to finish up the pacification of Britannia. The loss of the first army and the need for so many men the empire needed elsewhere had not gone unnoticed. Another loss was likely to prove very unfortunate for the governor’s future. That kind of pressure could push even the best of men into poor decisions, and he was far from being ‘the best of men.’

“I understand. We will begin our march before the day is out,” Bomilcar said, not having much of a choice, otherwise.

The governor huffed and turned to leave as abruptly as he came in, only to stop just by the door.

Turning back towards the room and pointing a finger, he added, “Don’t fail, General. The emperor has made it clear how important this conquest is to him and failing to achieve victory is the same as disobeying the emperor. No friends or legacy or family connections will save you if you fail. Treat this fight like your life and the lives of your wife and children hang in the balance. Because they do.”