Chapter 17

Ériunia

Velius watched the Ulaid troops sacking the city below him and frowned. Although a lot of other Romans had disagreed with the policy, one of the things Ky had done that Velius had been happiest about was the declaration ending sacks of conquered cities and the penalties put in place for those who participated. Conchobar was going to have to lead these people if they managed to conquer the island for him, and people whose homes were demolished, possessions taken, and wives and daughters sullied were unlikely to be loyal citizens.

He’d made a plea to Guaire, the commander of the local forces under his command, but the king’s cousin had ignored him. He understood why the man thought he couldn’t keep his soldiers from their rewards since, unlike the Britannians, the bulk of what a soldier could earn after being conscripted was through sacks and the sale of captured men. If the Ulaid did end up joining the Empire, they’d be forced to change their ways, but until they did, there was little Velius could do to stop them.

He’d made a big deal out of the Ulaid being allowed to govern their territory and how they wouldn’t just be simple vassals under Britannic rule, which meant in cases like this, he was mindful of how far he could push them. He’d already pushed the king hard to keep soldiers under his direct command in combat, something neither the king nor his commanders had been pleased about.

Thankfully, none of his soldiers, not even the fairly recent Caledonian recruits, had tried to join in on the plundering, and all held to their positions either guarding the outskirts of the city or remaining in the fortified camp Velius ordered built every night.

“It’s glorious, isn’t it?” Cormac, the king’s son, said.

Velius turned to look at the prince, resisting the urge to shake his head. The boy was barely into his manhood, not yet gaining the muscle and stature that he surely would in time, given his father, which seemed to be a collection of all the worst traits of both young men and less civilized societies. Cormac seemed to enjoy pointless cruelty for its own sake, was a braggart given to boasting the achievements of others, regardless of the part he played, and continually asked about more aggressive, and foolhardy, tactics during Velius’s meetings with his commanders.

The commanders, at least, ignored the boy, understanding that Velius had little choice but to let him be present at the war councils. Rome had similar problems with an emperor’s son butting into military policy until fairly recently. Ky’s new policies pushing merit over position might have started taking hold in Britannia, but they were completely unheard of in places like this.

“No, it’s not,” Velius said dryly, looking past the boy to Llassar as he prepared himself for the lecture he was being forced to give yet again. “You’re going to be expected to govern these people. You’re going to ask them to produce the food your army needs to feed itself and the weapons it needs to fight. You’re going to need them to be loyal, so that you don’t have to divert large parts of your army to pacifying territory you already vanquished. How loyal would you be if your new rulers allowed your women to be assaulted, your precious few valuables taken, and your home to be burned.”

“It’s what will make them loyal. They will fear us and know what could happen if we are forced to come back and teach them another lesson.”

Velius refrained from pointing out that his father’s army hadn’t taught them anything and wouldn’t be in the position to sack the city at all if it wasn’t for Velius and his legions.

Instead, he said, “You should look to your own histories, Prince, since your family is an example of the very thing I’m talking about. Your father was not the next in line for the throne, and the man that was is still out there, leading armies to recapture it. Your father fought to remove him from power and put in a rule that was more just for your people. You should ask yourself, is there someone like your father out there, plotting revenge for the unjust way they must feel they are being treated?”

The prince fell quiet, although Velius couldn’t tell if it was because the message got through or if he was just sulking.

“It’s going to take at least a day to get them back in order and on the march again, unless you’re thinking about leaving them behind and continuing to our objective without them,” Llassar said, from the other side of the boy.

“No, we need to take them with us. In this kind of state, it’s going to be hard for the cavalry to distinguish them from the bandits that have been plaguing the border kingdoms, and we’re already stretching our lines of communication thin enough without losing horsemen to confusion, deciding if a group in the distance is friend or foe. This isn’t a particularly large city, so they should burn themselves out, or at least the town out, by this evening. We’ll send in teams to round up anyone who hasn’t made it back to the camps in the morning, and then be on our way towards the coast.”

“They’ll be exhausted. It will slow down our progress all day tomorrow to keep them with us.”

Velius thought Llassar was probably right, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He’d learned a long time ago it was better to accept the reality of a situation and plan accordingly than sit wishing the situation was different, wasting time.

“Like I said, there isn’t much we can do about it. We have some time. As far as we can tell, the Carthaginians have forced their allies to pull all of their forces to the south to protect Inverness, which is the only port large enough to receive supplies and reinforcements, and they don’t look to be moving north. Best guess, since taking us head-on didn’t work out great for them, they want to let us come to them this time. They probably have something planned for us and they’ve given an all-or-nothing ultimatum to their allies, forcing them to all but abandon their capitals and join in that plan.”

“If they’ve left their capitals unguarded, shouldn’t you take this opportunity to wipe them out, so they don’t have anywhere to turn to?” the prince asked, looking annoyed that Velius and Llassar were talking over him like he wasn’t there.

“What would be the point?” Velius asked. “By themselves, they aren’t a significant threat beyond raiding. Hell, you wouldn’t have needed us at all if it was just them. Until they got the backing of the Carthaginians, you were able to keep all of the kingdoms in check. They all hated your people, but even banding together, they weren’t able to come for you, until they got help.”

“What’s your point?” Cormac asked.

“My point is, they aren’t a threat. At least not on their own. We gain nothing spending the time diverting to their cities so we can sack them. In fact, you lose something for the same reason we shouldn’t be sacking this place, but even ignoring that, it’s a bad idea. Right now, the enemy is sitting still, waiting on us. Yes, it allows them to come up with a plan to fight us, but it also means we get to choose when and where we attack, to some degree, since they’re not going to want us circling around behind them. If we sit and wait, they’ll start moving. Our scouts are good, but two moving forces add extra uncertainty to the situation, and uncertainty isn’t something a soldier wants. If I was them and I found out we were out here sacking cities, I’d move to hit us while our forces were divided.”

“They need to be taught a lesson,” Cormac muttered, just loud enough to be heard, but not looking at either Velius or Llassar.

“Your father left you with us to learn, Child,” Llassar said, leaning over and grabbing the reins of the younger man’s horse. “If you can’t listen, we can’t teach you anything, and we might as well send you back to your mother’s skirts.”

“That’s enough, Llassar,” Velius said.

He could appreciate the tough love approach Llassar was taking. It was his preferred technique with the legions, where they regularly had to turn willful young men into soldiers capable of following orders. A young princeling, on the other hand, had to be treated differently. Beyond growing up believing, and being told, that they were better than everyone else, he’d seen enough of the young man’s father to know he’d spent his life receiving this approach. If he was still this way after that, then being firm with him would never bear fruit.

“If you want to win wars, you have to think like a soldier and not a brigand. We’re not here to teach these people lessons. We’re here to win a war, which means defeating their armies and forcing their leaders to submit to peace under our terms. If you lose sight of your objectives, you’ll lose sight of your enemy, and they will make you pay the price for your inattention.”

Waving one of his aides over, Velius said, “This foolishness has gone on long enough. See if you can find any of their commanders and tell them if they can’t get their men in line in the next two hours, the legions will leave without them. We have a war to fight.”

Devnum

It had taken a little experimenting, but she had figured out how to secretly store the ‘drone,’ as Sophus kept calling it. At first glance, it had seemed small enough, but it was too large to fit through the opening of the pouch and, while it was very flexible, it couldn’t be folded in half to be shoved inside.

She’d eventually worked out a way to attach it to the pouch using a pair of hair clips and several small lengths of leather strip, all of it tied tight enough to keep it from falling, as long as she didn’t start running or doing some other fast movement.

The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but it was getting late in the day when she got to the foundry that was working on the cannon. The men working that day didn’t mind getting let out an hour early, especially once she told them that they would be paid for the whole day, including the time they didn’t work because she’d made them stop. Thankfully, this was one of Hortensius’s shops, which he ran under the philosophy that well-treated workers actually produce more and better-quality products than workers toiling under the whip, so she didn’t have to deal with foremen objecting.

She did have the foremen wait outside for her, in case she had new instructions, which they were less pleased with, since the idea of a short day sounded as good to them as it had to the workers, but they complied, waiting with one of her guards while the rest secured the building to keep prying eyes away from it.

Although she’d been in the foundry many times, it always stunned her how hot it was inside and how brutal the conditions for the workers must be. Even though the furnaces were now only glowing embers, no longer being stoked, and the air outside was still crisp with the last days of winter not far behind them, she could feel sweat instantly begin pooling on her neck as she began walking through the large building.

They’d finished the latest casting of the test cannon almost a week before, which had been pushed to one side of the building, waiting for Hortensius’s sign-off when he recovered. Helpfully, the foremen had also moved the molds for casting it close by, so both could be examined. She’d been surprised the first time she’d seen the cannon, discovering that it had been made out of bronze rather than iron or steel. Bronze was rarely seen outside of decorative metal working anymore, because of how much weaker it was than even the steel they’d been able to make before Ky’s appearance. It was generally considered a metal for a less civilized time, so she hadn’t expected to see the coppery-gold appearance of the cannon the first time.

Sophus had explained that the bronze cannon was lighter and more likely to crack rather than shatter if the metal failed, making it less deadly for the men using it, while still being strong enough to generally stand up to the gunpowder they were producing, but she was still doubtful. The large, metal balls they were producing to fire out of it were also of lower quality, being simple cast iron rather than more refined iron or steel. This was apparently because of weight and speed of production, and she could at least understand not wanting to spend a lot of time and money on something that would be launched at the enemy and probably never recover.

Looking around and confirming the building was empty, she reached inside her tunic and loosened the drone, pulling it out and holding it in the palm of her hand.

“We’re alone,” she said out loud to Sophus, who had no way of knowing what was happening while the drone was compact like this.

The drone instantly expanded, becoming wider and more ridged, and leaped from her hand so lightly that it surprised her. She thought there might be a push-off against her hand, like when a bird would take flight after loitering on your finger or arm, but there wasn’t. It just went up, as if by magic, which she still wasn’t convinced wasn’t the case. Ky kept assuring her it was technology, but she couldn’t even imagine a technology that would allow for something like that.

The drone circled the cannon slowly, stopping for long minutes here and there. There wasn’t any indication it was doing anything other than just floating there, but she waited silently until the disk finally finished going over the cannon and mold and came floating back to her.