Raising Steam

by Peter Rhodan

  “Is there anything else we need to discuss while we are all here?” He said looking around the room.

  “I was looking at the organisation chart you drew up Primarius.” Coel said changing the topic.

  “Yes?” Arturo replied.

  “Firstly, it was interesting to see the whole Legion drawn up like that. None of us have ever seen anything quite like that before and we found it fascinating. Even your much simpler organisation. And I can see where the artillery fit in the support cohort. And that is another thing I have never seen before, a formation solely for support. I am not entirely certain I see the point although I can understand having the artillery able to support other troops, rather than being attached to any single one of the combat cohorts directly. But some of the other centuries puzzle me.”

  Surprised by the man saying so much, Arturo nodded for him to continue. The way the others were paying close attention indicated they too felt the need for some explanation of the support cohort. “There is the engineer century. That too I can follow. Field fortifications, armouring and such like I can see as being handy as well. Sometimes you are in positions where it is advantageous to be able to draw on such troops quickly. Then there is the medical century. An entire century for medical people?”

  “Yes. You have all seen my reforms health wise, little though they are, so far. The washing of hands before eating and the boiling of water before treating scratches and wounds are important innovations but they are just a start. I have yet to properly spread that stuff into the civilian side of things although it is spreading from the army on its’ own accord. Health matters was one of the activities I was going to work on over the winter. Down the track, as I manage to introduce more of the knowledge my people have, you will find that the recovery rate from wounds will go up significantly. Both in the ratio of men who suffer serious wounds but then not die as well as the number of men who currently lose limbs due to gangrene and such. However, this improvement in survivability will require early, prompt and correct treatment by trained people. It will also need proper facilities.”

  He paused. “That century will function as a forward hospital behind our army when in battle. It will have special wagons for transporting wounded men in as comfortable a manner as possible plus it will have trained stretcher bearers for carrying wounded men off the field. And doctors, who are specially trained medical people, who will be able to treat the men for all ills, not just during and after battles, while on the march and even in camp. There is a constant trickle of injuries from training is there not?”

  Coel nodded. “Aye. Yes. I think I see the point of that century. And the supply century I guess. That kind of makes sense. Then there is the training century. What are they training for?”

  Arturo smiled. The man was apparently trying to be a smart arse which was rare for the local Royal. “Okay. At the moment, training is being done on an ad hoc basis. Partly because we had a large influx of troops who needed to learn our ways. And there will be times in the future when similar events will happen. But most of the time new recruits will be a trickle, so what that century will be for is that it will be where we transfer older, experienced troopers, and officers, who have been lamed or whose health no longer allows them to go on campaign, yet who still have skills to offer. A lot of them will be also be soldiers who have been injured in battle or in a training accident who will eventually recover fully but who cannot campaign at the moment. Such men will be transferred to that century on a temporary basis to aid in training raw recruits while they recover their full health.”

  “Plus, there will be a small cadre of healthy normal troops on loan from the other centuries at any one time. I am sure you all know men in your commands that have a natural talent for teaching new men? Well they will the ones that do the heavy training, the long distance marches and such that the regular members of that century would be largely incapable of doing because they will mostly be lamed, unwell, old or otherwise unable. The same men will also provide physical back up for any of the regular instructors if you get my meaning.” He smiled an evil smile.

  The men all nodded in understanding. “And before anyone asks what the communications century is for I will explain. One of the lacks in your traditional Roman army is organised communication. The people in that century will be trained for instance in writing in code so that important messages that need to be sent over long distances will be protected in case of interception. As our most, ah, competent enemy on the short term will be the Imperial forces such coding will be important.”

  He paused. “On top of that, the communications century will be responsible for manning any semaphore stations in that Legion’s operating area. Plus, they will provide a corps of messengers that will be attached to both the Legatus and the Tribunes when on campaign so that orders and information will be transmitted quickly. Fast communications between officers in a battle is very important and something that is often missing from a lot of armies, as far as I can tell.” Or remember from my historical readings. Such rapid communications were really a much later innovation he believed. Well no matter. On top of that, when I get radio working they will be the people to handle that as well.

  “Now some of those centuries are more immediately important than others. The artillery will be appearing over the winter so as new recruits come in divert some for that. Likewise, the supply and engineering centuries. The medical century you can leave largely to me at this time. The training century can be set up when you have suitable older or injured people to form the basis of it. The communications century I think would be best composed of young people who can read and write but for who we have no Ensign slot available. They will gain experience running messages around and will form a pool of suitable junior officers as our formations expand. Does all that make sense gentlemen?”

  There were nods all round. Valerius motioned to speak. “I have been looking at this organisational chart as well. I do have one question. What if we get more cavalry than we need to fill the cavalry centuries? Or less for that matter?”

  Arturo motioned with his hand to indicate no problem. “If we get too many horsemen we will create a cavalry reserve of independent cohorts centrally placed but I sincerely doubt that will be a problem. From everything I have been able to determine having one in five of the combat force as cavalry is more than is the Roman norm. Certainly, it will be more than enough in the near future. And if we are short then you cavalry fellows will just have to teach some caligae wearers how to ride.” He smiled at this last and Valerius snickered.

  He paused and looked at the men. “Have any of you considered the railroad and what that will mean to our operational capacity?”

  Most looked back blankly except Radovas. Arturo saw the small smirk so motioned to him. “Radovas?”

  The man seemed surprised to be singled out despite his smirk but after a momentary delay from either confusion or embarrassment or both for he was still not comfortable mixing with the likes of Valerius or Coel on an equal basis, he stood up. “Well I have been talking to Ceri and when the line runs from here to Lugowalion it will mean the first Legion will be able to support the Second much more quickly. A train of those coal wagons loaded with troops would reach Lugowalion in maybe three hours plus a bit of time for loading and unloading. Seeing that train today I would say we could send a couple of centuries every trip. And when the new more powerful engine he is planning is built, perhaps as many as three centuries.”

  The others all seemed a little surprised by this calculation, all except Valerius that is. He kept a straight face which made Arturo suspect he had already thought of something similar. “That is very good Radovas. And it would work just as well in reverse should the Scotti land in force down the coast.” The men nodded with understanding.

  "Once the line extends further there will be special wagons made, designed specifically to carry horses, artillery and the supply wagons. The idea being that there will special places where they can be loaded on or off th
e trains quickly and easily. But there is another, longer term, benefit to the railroads. Can anyone see it?” Arturo looked around the collection of officers.

  They all looked at each other and were obviously unsure where Arturo was going. He nodded after a moment. “Very well, consider this. At the moment for me to send a message to Brennus I would despatch a messenger in the morning. If it was urgent the fellow would ride flat out to Maglona and change horses there, if there was one available and get to Lugowalion late in the afternoon. Yes?”

  They all nodded and from the change in expression showing on the faces of Valerius and Coel Arturo guessed that those two could see where this was leading. “Once the line to Lugowalion is completed our messenger will instead jump on the morning train and therefore arrive at Lugowalion somewhere between two and three hours later.”

  Apart from Coel and Valerius they all looked startled and then the realisation sunk in. They spent the next few minutes loudly discussing the ramifications of this amongst themselves before Arturo called them to order. “As you can probably surmise, the longer the distance the greater the saving. How long does it take for a courier to get to Lugowalion from Eboracum? Or Londinium. We won’t know for some time but there is every possibility that we will be able to send a message from Lugowalion one morning and have it in Londinium the next.” He paused and looked around at the eager faces. “Once we secure the whole island, that is of course.” And he smiled wolfishly, which was reflected in the grins on the assembled faces.

  He watched their faces and then brought up another point. “Just as importantly, supplies will be much easier to transport over long distance as well. At least where these railroads run. If we are campaigning north of the Wall for instance, food and grain from around here will shipped to Lugowalion the same day which would cut out, what, two days or more wagon travelling time? And large quantities will be able to be shipped in the one train rather than tie up large numbers of wagons, horses and men in the process.”

  He looked around the room at the nodding men who now had even more interesting matters to consider. And this was only the start, he thought to himself. The semaphore stations along the tracks will be able to send messages as well as railway movement information. It was still a long way from steam engines to spaceships though. More the pity he thought despondently.

  Chapter 8

  The Selgovae move south

  Morghanna stood on the raised earthen mound that encircled the oppidum, her breath condensing in the cold air. The spring had not really begun yet this year but the snow making travel difficult had largely melted from the lowlands and even some of the lower passes were clear already. Approaching the oppidum was Cryllyn, son of Myrllwyn of the Damnoni who soon rode into the oppidum of the Selgovae leading close to five hundred warriors, including thirty mounted lords. Morghanna watched their arrival with a distinct lack of enthusiasm despite having been married to his uncle, or perhaps because of it. The grey skies and cold wind did nothing to improve her mood. All it needed was a northern hot head to add to the madness of her father’s plans to invade the south.

  Technically Cryllyn was her nephew by marriage, a strange idea considering she was only two years older than the northern warrior, but Alayn, Cryllyn’s uncle, had been just a little over two years older than his sibling Myrllwyn, who was now king of the Damnoni and her father had not seen the age disparity as a bar to her union with Alayn. From what she remembered, Cryllyn was a clever lad if a bit sharp tongued and intolerant of people he felt were of lower rank. A common failing amongst Brython nobles.

  However strange it was being his aunt, sort of, his arrival brought her sense of foreboding back to the forefront of her mind. She would try once more to warn her father and brother but neither had showed any interest in her vague ramblings so far, so it was unlikely that would change now that Cryllyn had arrived with so many extra warriors. She did try to talk to her father that night but he waved her away and instead he joined the two young men in a week of drinking through the night where they extolled their martial prowess and boasted of all the Romans they would kill and booty they would gather.

  Men were sent out in all directions to pass the word for the warriors of the tribe to assemble on the full moon and soon after the tribe’s warriors began to arrive at the oppidum, singly or in small groups. A week after Cryllyn arrived, Corotoc, son of Owain, King of the Votandi, surprised everyone by turning up with twenty mounted warriors and as many on foot. He rode into camp impressively attired in a Roman muscled cuirass and Sarmatian style helmet but otherwise dressed as one of the northern Brythons with plaid trousers and a plain if well-made tunic. Morghanna had to admit he made a handsome figure in his cloak of bleached wool, with a black tunic under his polished cuirass and the two tone blue trousers. His hair was a yellowy red, as was his impressive moustache. He appeared to be a few years older than her brother, but it was hard to tell with the helmet he was wearing. She remembered seeing him once before her marriage when Owain and her father had marched to the east to sort out a border issue with his father.

  Interestingly his men all wore the same bleached wool cloaks and two tone blue trousers giving them a strangely uniform appearance. Must be the influence of the Romans, she thought idly, as the not unhandsome young man rode up to where her father, brother and Cryllyn waited. “Greetings Cluen, King of the Selgovae. I hear you have an interesting spring planned and thought I might join in.”

  Well that was bold enough, Morghanna thought but fortunately her father seemed amused rather than offended. “Indeed. Well welcome Corotoc. Did your father send you?” Her father and brother had debated inviting Owain to the campaign. On one hand they didn’t want to share the booty with him and his tribesmen. His force was bound to be larger than theirs, but on the other it would mean the Romans would be unlikely to even try and stop such an army. In the end they had informed him of their plan without actually inviting him to join in. They, in turn, had received a very polite thank you for the information but no indication of any willingness by Owain to join the campaign.

  The young man laughed. “He did not actually send me as such. Given his long standing policy his direct involvement was unlikely, as you well know. But he did not forbid my joining your expedition either when I broached the subject. I think he plays a deep game, as always.”

  Cluen laughed. “Does he not always. Owain the Red, smart like a fox. Well you are welcome to march with us young Corotoc. You know Cryllyn of the Damnoni?”

  Corotoc inclined his head in the direction the young northerner. “I have not had the pleasure previously, but I have heard good things said of him.” He answered. He climbed down off his horse and clasped hands with Cluen, Cunedd and finally Cryllyn before doing the same with several of the tribal elders who were already there. Dismounted he proved to be rather taller than her brother and even topped Cryllyn by a finger breadth or two.

  Morghanna was initially surprised by his arrival but later, as she thought more about it, she perceived the cleverness of Owain. If Cluen’s attack goes well, then the presence of Corotoc in the victorious forces means the Votandi are not left out of the victory over the Romans. On the other hand, if the attack fails and the Romans come north in retaliation, then Owain can claim his son acted without permission and only took his immediate retainers with him anyway. It was very clever in its way and she was somewhat surprised her father was allowing the old fox to get away with it.

  Owain’s own father had died fighting the Romans when Owain was quite young and for forty years plus he had followed a policy of non-confrontation as far as the Empire was concerned. Not that he wasn’t prepared to fight hard and effectively if attacked by anyone, as he proved in a memorable battle where he whipped the Damnoni when they invaded some years before Morghanna’s birth. It was a very motley army her father was assembling, all told. Besides the five hundred Damnoni and Corotoc’s forty Votandi, one of the western subchiefs had a bodyguard of Novotae warriors and a subchief from the north west had
a bunch of Pechti warriors in his retinue.

  She was still oppressed by a sense of foreboding regarding the whole thing but as no one would listen she had stopped trying to convince them to call it off. That afternoon she went to the small sacred grove to the west of the oppidum and made sacrifice to all the gods she could think of using fruit and berries in the hope of staving off the impending disaster she felt was looming anytime soon. Perhaps I should try that Christian god of the Romans she thought to herself as she returned to the oppidum but then decided that as there was no Christian priest present in the tribal lands it would safer not to do anything too revolutionary!

  As she returned to the huts she caught a flash of light on the nearest mountain top to the south. She stopped dead and studied the area intently, but the flash never re-occurred. It had been like a tiny piece of lightning or the glint off a highly polished helmet caught at the right angle in bright sunlight, but it was hard to be sure in the brief instant she had not quite seen it. The top of the mountain was still in bright sunlight even though where she was now in twilight, so perhaps there had been someone or something up there. She smiled to herself with the thought that the sun continued its’ rounds heedless of the affairs of men. After a few minutes with no further sign of anything and the cold air biting she shook her head and returned to her father’s hut.

  Ensign Glendywer finished writing the report for Centurion Julianus. The Selgovae had now massed nearly three thousand warriors and more were coming in every day. The small force in the white coloured cloaks that had arrived earlier in the day had clearly belonged to some lord come to join the fight. Exactly where this mass of barbarians intended to head remained a mystery, but he felt the odds were good they were going to come raiding south.