Invasion (Tales of the Empire Book 5)

by S. J. A. Turney

  ‘Use the eyes of your scouts as well as your own shrewd gaze,’ Lissa said quietly. ‘You are not seeing the detail. The riders have been close to Steinvic. The place has never fallen, despite being fought over in every decade for centuries. Ask yourself why, if a siege is so simple.’

  Bellacon nodded unhappily and watched as the scouts rode back up the slope through the assembling army, coming to report. The party of four waited patiently, looking over the mass of Steinvic once more.

  Shaped roughly like an arrow head pointing to the south-west, Steinvic was an immense place. Its walls were seemingly huge earth ramparts with the outer face revetted in stone. For some reason, given its reputation, the tribunes had expected a hill fort like those they had seen in the south and in other lands, but that was not what Steinvic was.

  The place had been carved from the flat land, its ramparts thrown up to encircle an area that was otherwise almost indistinguishable from the lands around it. The place seemed to be divided into sections inside by other ramparts, and there were areas clear of housing, a hill rising to one side, and even the gleaming surface of a lake. The three legions could camp within the ramparts. Ten legions could have camped within the ramparts. Probably more.

  The scouts reined in on the hilltop and the tribunes straightened. ‘What’s the news?’ Cantex asked.

  ‘It is a difficult proposition, sir. The ramparts do not look so high from this distance, and they rise only fifteen feet or so from ground level, but there is a ditch. It is not really visible from here, but when you get close, you can see the trouble it will cause. The ditch is maybe ten or fifteen feet deep, with fairly sheer sides. So that gives the ramparts an effective height of maybe twenty five or thirty feet. The ditch is filled with water in places and is swampy in others. Some places it is full of bramble and, in others, the inhabitants seem to have sunk pointed logs into the bottom to make it uncrossable. Due to the width of the compacted earth rampart, catapults will have little effect on the defences. They might bring down some of the stone facing, but they will not really change the odds. Siege towers and mining are both nullified by the ditch. The only truly effective technique the engineer with us could identify was to send enough men at a wall section to swamp it and tear it down.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ Convocus grumbled. ‘Looks so innocent from here, but sounds like we’re going to have a tough fight. Can we starve them out, do you think? Or cut off their water supply? I see there is a stream running through the place.’

  The scout nodded. ‘There is, sir. Enters the place through a channel in the western defences and runs roughly eastward, out through another conduit. Both are rather low for a man to get through except crouched in the water, and both are sealed off with some sort of wooden grille. But as for cutting off their water or starving them, it’s not feasible. The stream is only used for washing clothes and irrigating the crops. The place derives its drinking water from underground springs that bubble up. There’s one in the main area and one in a separate cattle enclosure to the north. They have a large animal population walled off from the rest of the place. And the entire south-eastern area is given over to crops fed from the stream. They have dammed the current somewhere near the eastern wall, forming a lake, which contains fish. The place is entirely self-sufficient. Even a huge population could last indefinitely.’

  Bellacon sighed. ‘You’ve done good work.’

  The scout shrugged. ‘We interrogated some local farmers we found.’

  ‘Entrances?’

  ‘There’s the small one you can see from here, sir, in the south rampart. It looks like a new addition that’s not entirely finished, but it is well defended. The only benefit there is that they’ve filled in the ditch with a narrow causeway. But that is only a small postern gate, and not wide enough to get a siege tower or ram across, except perhaps a gang of men carrying a tree trunk. The engineer thought it folly.’

  ‘Engineers always work to their own logic,’ Cantex said. ‘And it rarely matches up with anyone else’s. There’s a main gate though?’

  ‘Yes, sir. At the eastern side. But it’s problematical at best. It’s a double gate – inner and outer, with a killing zone between – and the compound created by the ramparts between the two gates encloses a hill. We couldn’t work out what it was, and the farmer wouldn’t talk about it no matter how much we probed him. Mind you, without most of the native scout contingent, conversation with the locals can be rather difficult. A few men know a few words of northern tongues that are close enough to Alban dialects to order beer or chat up whores, but that’s about it.’

  ‘Very well,’ Bellacon said. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Nothing pertinent I reckon, sir.’

  ‘Good. Go rest your mounts.’

  As the scouts rode off, the three officers looked at one another.

  ‘It’s a problem, clearly. We have four options, then. One: we select a section of wall and simply throw men at it until we bring it down or take control of it. Costly, to say the least, but probably the swiftest way. Two: we concentrate on the south gate, perhaps using a trunk as a ram. Problem is that the narrowness of the target means we will be funnelling men into a tight space, where a clever enemy could obliterate hundreds at a time with ease. And I think we have to assume these are a clever enemy. Three: we attack this main gate in the east. Why they have a hill inside the gate enclosure I cannot imagine, but whatever the case, having men trapped within a circuit of walls and between the inner and outer gate sounds as bad as the previous option. Four: we ignore the opinions of the engineers and simply bring up every siege engine we have and pound the snot out of the place to see if we can bring down a section of rampart.’

  ‘Five, we go home,’ Convocus said darkly.

  ‘We can’t do that and you know it.’

  ‘I know, but what you’re describing is an assault almost certainly doomed to failure no matter which way you try it. Steinvic is deceptive. It looks weak, but in reality it is as strong as any imperial fortress I’ve ever seen, thanks to its self-sufficiency and the various systems of defence.’

  Again the three fell silent. Some time passed, each man lost in his musings of strategy, his eyes playing across the vast city before them in search of some magical means of entry. Lissa departed again quickly, finding somewhere less exposed as the wind picked up and began to chill and batter the hilltop.

  Another set of approaching feet interrupted their fruitless contemplation after a while; this time a tired-looking soldier.

  ‘Sirs, a small force of native warriors has arrived at the edge of the camp. They are asking to speak to the man in command. Their leader speaks our language but his men are refusing to sheathe their weapons, so they are under guard.’

  Bellacon, Cantex and Convocus looked at one another, and Convocus shrugged. ‘Do we have to have one commander? Let’s go see this native who speaks the imperial tongue, then.’

  The three men wandered over to their horses and mounted, Bellacon gesturing for the groom to pass the reins of one of the spare animals to Lissa. Convocus and Cantex shared raised eyebrows at that, but let it pass without comment and a moment later the four were walking their beasts down the slope alongside the soldier, heading for the edge of the camp where even now the ramparts were being raised, a pitiful reflection of the great defences of Steinvic a mile across the fertile fields.

  The small party of natives was mounted and looking somewhere between haughty and bored, as over a hundred imperial soldiers remained watchful, their spears levelled at the potential enemy in their midst.

  As they approached, the tribunes sized up their visitors. Ten warriors, each clearly a veteran from the shape, age and size of them, all scarred and fierce looking, well equipped with chain shirts, shields and heavy swords that were out and in hand as though expecting trouble.

  The man they were so clearly escorting and protecting, by comparison, wore just a shirt and trousers, heavy leather boots and a woollen cloak with a complex pattern woven into the fab
ric. The only things that marked him as a leader were the heavy silver torc at his neck and the fact that these dangerous men so clearly deferred to him. Unusually for a native, the man was clean shaven, though his long white-gold hair was braided at each side in a common fashion.

  ‘Have you ever noticed,’ Convocus murmured as they approached, ‘how the higher a man’s status, the lower his ostentation,’ he glanced uncomfortably at Lissa and added, ‘even in some cultures often considered barbarous.’

  Cantex laughed. ‘Not in the senate. I knew a senator who tried to have sandals made of actual gold. Rubbed his feet raw. Had them melted down into a rod after a day and used it to beat the man who made them.’

  Convocus snorted. ‘But those who really matter? I mean look at Titus and the emperor. No status symbols really. No show or glamour. Just everyday working clothes. That is the impression this fellow gives me. Be polite, you two. And deferential. This is no common local.’

  Lissa nodded at his appraisal and she and the others instinctively dropped back a pace or two, leaving Convocus as the man out front as they made their way between the soldiers and approached the native group.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ he said with a polite nod of the head. ‘I am led to believe that you speak my tongue?’

  ‘I do,’ the man said. His accent was unexpectedly refined, his tone warm and honeyed.

  ‘I am General Decius Convocus, commander of the imperial Raven Legion out of Calvion.’ The other two exchanged the briefest of looks. None of them had been using that title, answering still to Tribune, though by rights as the commander of a legion, they should have been. ‘And these,’ Convocus continued, ‘are the generals Ammius Cantex of the Hawk Legion, and Lucius Bellacon of the Vulture Legion and his… advisor – a seer of the Silvanes tribe. To whom are we speaking, might I ask?’

  The man gave an odd sort of half-smile, as though the seriousness of the situation had weighed down half his mouth.

  ‘My name is Suolceno of the Albantes.’

  ‘You are clearly a nobleman of some standing?’

  The man focused that odd half-smile on Convocus from a brief scan of the others. ‘I am. I am prince and heir to the Albante throne.’

  That threw even Convocus, who stumbled for a moment in search of something to say.

  ‘I had not expected to meet such a personage under such easy circumstances, Prince Suolceno.’

  ‘I can imagine so,’ the young man answered. ‘You imperial officers take your oaths very seriously, yes?’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘Then give me an oath on your gods and your emperor that I will not be harmed or detained, and I will stand down my guard. It is imperative that I speak to you. Alone.’

  Convocus did not pause, even for a moment. ‘I give you my word on the name of the Emperor Quintillian, the gods and protector spirits of the legions and upon my honour as an officer that no harm or inconvenience shall befall you for the duration of your visit.’

  Prince Suolceno nodded after a moment, and then looked expectantly at the others. Bellacon and Cantex repeated the oath to the satisfaction of the prince, who turned to his guards and spoke to them in their own language. None of them looked very pleased at doing so, but they all sheathed their blades and stepped away from the camp and the soldiers. The prince gestured into the fort. ‘You have somewhere private to talk?’

  Lissa dismounted to join them and, though Convocus gave a barely-noticeable shake of his head, Bellacon gestured for her to come along. A short walk, attracting the most surprised and suspicious looks, and the five of them arrived at the nearest enclosed space: a supply tent that had gone up early.

  ‘Clear the tent and set up a perimeter of fifty paces,’ Bellacon told the captain overseeing the setup, and then waited as four sweating soldiers exited the tent, saluting and running off as ordered.

  Once the tent was evacuated, Bellacon led them inside. He immediately realised why this tent had gone up so quickly, before even the headquarters or the officers’ tents. The chests sitting in neat rows around the edge contained more coins than a man should see in a lifetime. The prince raised an interested eyebrow at the sight but said nothing.

  ‘Forgive me,’ Cantex said quietly, as he sank onto a chest and relaxed. ‘But you must have known we were coming for some time, and that we were not here to trade. And an heir to the throne would seem a peculiar choice to send as a negotiator. Surely your father would be the natural figure to come?’

  ‘Therein lies our problem,’ the prince said quietly. ‘And possibly your salvation. You are aware of the ambassadors your emperor sent some years ago, I presume?’

  The three tribunes looked at one another in surprise, and then back to him. ‘We are,’ Convocus said, ‘though I had no idea they had made contact with the Albantes. In fact, the three of us were not aware of your tribe until we landed, though it is clear that we should have been, since you are very much the linchpin of power in Alba. Lissa here confirms the theory, too, even as a native of this island.’

  ‘Your ambassadors believed the same. You see, my people have been in a state of civil war for a number of years.’ He laughed bleakly. ‘To be brutally honest, my people live in a perpetual state of civil war. The only time they are not fighting each other is when they band together to fight an outsider. The current war, which has been more damaging to the Albantes than most, has been waged between my parents. They have been commanding separate fortresses in the north for some time, with my father controlling the hilltop fastness in the eastern moors, and my mother Steinvic, which lies before you.’

  ‘You are making overtures to us on behalf of your mother?’ Cantex asked. ‘Or your father?’

  Bellacon was peering across at Lissa, whose eyes were narrowed as she studied the prince.

  ‘Neither,’ Prince Suolceno sighed. ‘The situation is rather more complicated than that. My father had decided that an alliance with the empire was the only way forward. He has believed that, in fact, since your generals were here when I was but a babe in arms. He had merchants brought north and learned your tongue. He had me, and a few of the higher nobles, learn it too. Three years ago, he was on the cusp of negotiating a treaty with your emperor’s ambassadors when he was betrayed and his force overrun by my mother’s warriors. My father was given the threefold death in a ritual manner, and my mother hoped to unite the forces and double her army here. Unfortunately for her, I am still alive. My father’s forces shunned her and flocked to me to step into my father’s shoes. The queen remains in Steinvic with a great force, safe and strong. I am in exile in the east, though still with a formidable army.’

  ‘So,’ Convocus said in hushed tones, ‘you are negotiating on behalf of yourself and your exiled army. You would join us and ally against your mother?’

  The prince nodded. ‘I see no reason that the deal my father struck with the imperial ambassadors cannot stand, but with me in his place.’

  ‘Why?’ Bellacon asked, his gaze flicking back and forth between the prince and Lissa. ‘What’s in this for you? Yes, we would help remove your mother from power and put you on the Albante throne, but you would be settling for service under the imperial banner. That seems a high price to pay from your perspective, no?’

  Lissa nodded her agreement, though she seemed to have come to some sort of private, internal decision. The prince gave Bellacon that odd half-smile again.

  ‘I am unusual among my people, General. I have read works from imperial writers, and studied the history of your lands as well as my own, whose deeds are sung endlessly around fires and in beer-halls. It is impossible for an educated man to escape the conclusion that the Albantes are on a road to self-destruction. We maintain our fierce persona to keep the lesser tribes in line, but the fact is that the Albantes are so deeply riven as a people, we’re in danger of destroying all that we are. And when we are too weak to maintain our control, those savage northern tribes who currently call us master will turn upon us like a dog upon a weak owner, and tear out ou
r throat.’

  He glanced at Lissa. ‘I know that the southern tribes fear the Albantes one day extending their control over the south, but believe me, if my tribe do not find some new, better path, we will fall to our own vassals, and the southern tribes will then realise how truly civilised the Albantes were.’

  Lissa’s nodding continued, and Bellacon seemed satisfied with the candour of the explanation.

  ‘Our only hope for a stable future,’ the prince continued, ‘is with the steadying influence of the empire to help guide us. From my point of view, the loss of a little pomp and gold and a nod of the head to the emperor is worth it if it gives my people a future.’

  ‘There is a slight impediment to your plan, I’m afraid,’ Convocus said. The other two frowned at him.

  ‘Really?’ Bellacon asked. ‘It sounds perfectly feasible to me.’

  ‘That’s because you have no legal or political background, Lucius. My father, however, was a senator and a lawyer. As generals in command of legions on campaign we do not have the authority to negotiate imperial policy. Nothing we say or agree to can be confirmed without senate ratification. We are in a position to agree in principle, but our offers will not stand in the senate. They could simply be overturned by decree of either a majority of senators or by the emperor himself.’

  ‘You cannot make a deal with me?’ The prince frowned. ‘This is ridiculous.’

  ‘It is these very laws and restrictions that form the framework that you believe will bring order to your unruly people, Prince Suolceno. I would like nothing more than to offer you terms, but it is not within my power.’

  Cantex leaned forward. ‘Was anything signed between your father and the ambassadors? If a document existed, we might be able to use that?’

  Convocus nodded. ‘That would provide evidence that the deal had already been ratified by imperial order, and only the name of the incumbent on the Albante throne would change. That would be workable. Is there such a document?’