The Singing Sword cc-2

by Jack Whyte

  "We were forced to accept, right from the outset of our campaign in Britain, that we could never hope to react in time to have any preventive effect upon this type of enemy incursion. We had to evolve new tactics to deal with new conditions, and so we split our forces, our cavalry forces, regionally, into five central bases: one in Eboracum, one in Glevum, one in Verulamium, one in Dubris and one in Noviomagus. Using each of these bases as the hub of a wheel, we set up lines of observation — outposts of infantry — tending signal-fires along lines radiating from the centre. Once these lines were established and in place, the news of raiders passed as quickly as the visibility of the fires. Sometimes the ancient methods are still the best — we simply adapted the signal-fires to our own needs, and used more of them. And while we were setting up these beacons, we also set up relay stations along the same lines, fully staffed and equipped with fresh horses. We split our active troops into self-sufficient squadrons with one centurion in overall charge of each, two decurions and forty troopers. Our reasoning in this was that one longboat could contain anywhere from thirty to fifty men. Two boatloads would double that potential, and so on. Our arithmetic considered one squadron of disciplined cavalry to be at least the equal of two boatloads of raiders, so each relay station was stocked with eighty-eight horses, kept in a constant state of readiness.

  "Each outpost was responsible for the building and the maintenance of groups of five signal-fires, set up side by side in a straight line and far enough apart to avoid any confusion. One fire meant one boat. Four fires set alight simultaneously meant more than three boatloads — a heavy raid. Five simultaneous fires means more than six boats — a major invasion fleet. It works very well, for our whole operation is predicated upon the advantage held by a double squadron of heavily armed, well-mounted, disciplined troops over a body of men on foot numbering twice their strength or even more. When four signal-fires are lit at once, for example, three squadrons are dispatched in response. Two of these ride at speed to catch the enemy on land, at work, and keep him from retreating to his boats. The third proceeds more slowly, in reserve, backed up by a full cohort of infantry moving at a forced march."

  "It sounds good," said his father. "How well does it work?"

  "As well as we can hope for. Our major weakness, at the start, was that we did not have enough good horses. It takes a lot of horseflesh to implement a plan like that. In the beginning we were operating at half strength in every area. We had to. We could not simply neglect some areas in favour of others, since we had no idea where the next spate of landings might occur. But the signal-fires passed the word quickly and our response time was very fast. As the Tightness of our method began to prove itself, Stilicho moved heaven and earth to appropriate more and better horses for us. He used to joke that he was stripping the Empire clean of horseflesh to feed the people of Britain, and there were times when it looked as though it might be true. It seemed that every second Roman galley arriving in Britain was loaded with prime horseflesh."

  "Impressive," I said. "How soon after your arrival did you start to put all this in place?"

  "A matter of months. As soon as we grew tired of looking foolish every time we arrived on the scene of a raid to find all the damage done and the enemy gone."

  "Which was often?"

  "Always would be more accurate."

  "I see. And since you switched over to these new tactics all of that has changed? Whose idea was it to set up these regional bases?"

  He shook his head. "No one's, and everybody's. The idea came out of a staff meeting. I mentioned the possibility of splitting our forces to gain manoeuvrability, and the idea grew from there. By the time that meeting had ended, the rudiments of the plan were in place and the logistics were under consideration. From that point onwards, it was just a matter of time until we had our units positioned and ready to move at the sight of a beacon. Once the troops were distributed, it became a matter of tightening up our procedures, learning from our mistakes and adapting to conditions as they arose."

  He stood up, stretching himself. "I can give you an example of what I mean by that, too. One of the first things we learned was that, almost invariably, when there was only one boat involved in a raid, the enemy was gone by the time we arrived, no matter how fast our response was. They hit, cleaned up and got away in a hurry. As soon as a raid involved two or more boats, however, their operations time slowed down very considerably. We really don't know why this should be, but we suspect it was because of their numerical strength. It seemed to give them the confidence to move further inland. Of course, with twice the men, they needed twice as much booty to be equally successful. Anyway, a pattern began to emerge very quickly and it indicated that it simply was not worthwhile dispatching troops against a single-boat raiding party.

  "There are people, I know, who think that was a callous decision. But it was the only one we could make, the only one that made any sense. At the height of the raiding activity in the early summer of the first year we were in action, there were four occasions when we were short of men to tackle major raiding parties because troops had already been dispatched to minor raids, and on none of these four occasions did our squadrons make contact with the small raiding parties. They were gone, back out to sea before our people ever came near them. Standing orders were changed to alert troops to one-boat raids but to respond only to raids involving two or more boats."

  "Makes sense," I said. "If what you say is true, and I don't doubt a word of it, the people in the farms and villages along the coastline who were being hit by these small raids were beyond help in any case."

  "Exactly. But a strange thing has happened in the course of two years. Do you know that there is now an almost uninhabited belt, ten or twelve, sometimes fifteen miles wide, around the entire coastline of southern Britain?"

  I shook my head. "No. You mean the people have just moved out?"

  "Most of them. Moved inland. A few stayed, too stubborn to move away from their homes and their living — mainly fisher-folk who live right on the coast — but the majority, the farmers and farm workers, just abandoned everything and moved inland to safety."

  "How has this affected the raiders and their methods?"

  Britannicus was watching his son closely, a tiny frown ticking between his brows.

  Picus shook his head decisively. "It's too early to say with any kind of certainty, but we are pretty well convinced that it has had an effect — and a positive one — on the number and the nature of the raids. Single-boat raids are almost non-existent now. It takes a lot of guts for one boatload of thirty-odd men to travel inland for ten or fifteen miles in the hope of finding a village, hitting it and getting out again before our people arrive. It puts a lot of distance between them and their boat."

  "But your people don't respond to one-boat raids, you said."

  "They would now, knowing that the enemy is going to be on foot for fifteen miles inland and back. But it simply doesn't happen any more."

  "So raiding parties are getting bigger?"

  "Yes. That's absolutely correct. And fewer, too."

  "So how much thought have you given to future developments in this pattern?"

  Picus flashed a grin at his stern-faced parent. "We hope it develops to the point where all of them land together and we can smash them once and for all, but that's a dream. If the trend continues, and at this time it is only a suspected trend which time will prove or disprove, but if, as I say, it continues to develop, then we could see numerically stronger parties raiding more systematically next year."

  "And how will that affect the deployment of your cavalry?"

  "It won't. Not adversely, at any rate. We're already prepared for it. Plans are in place to consolidate our lines of communication. We'll simply strengthen our reserves and be prepared to move in greater strength."

  "You obviously think that this is going to happen?" Cay's inflection made this more of a question than a statement.

  "No, I hope it's going to happen. I've
just dismissed it as a dream, but it is true that the more men they use, the bigger the fleets they assemble, the greater will be our advantage. Just let me get an army of them in one place at one time, and I'll smash them beyond recovery."

  "Hmmm." Cay sounded mildly sceptical. "Dream as it may be, have you the strength to do that?"

  "Aye. And more, I have the speed and the weight. You know yourself, Father, how wild these people are. They have no concept of concerted discipline. They operate, all of them, as independent units. Each boat's crew is devoted to itself. Land a large number of boats together and you have a fearsome band of savages. But they are a rabble. I can destroy them easily if they do that, and in their pride and ignorance, they can't admit it." He snapped his hand in front of his face as though snatching a fly out of the air, holding his clenched fist high in front of his face. "Just let me have one chance to catch them on land, in strength. I don't need a whole army of them. Just a mob big enough to grapple with at leisure."

  His father sucked at his front teeth. "And how do you see our role here in the Colony shaping up, now that I am Legatus Emeritus of the Irregulars of South-west Britain? And, by the way, you still have not delivered my warrant into my hands. Is that a deliberate oversight?"

  "Oh! Pardon me, I have it here." He delved again into his scrip and produced a second scroll, this one much bigger than the first. His father took it from him, broke the seal and scanned the contents quickly before passing it across to me. It was a clear, clean and specific document bearing the signature and the personal seal of Stilicho and the imperial seal of Honorius. I read it with appreciation and handed it back.

  "Well, General," I said. "I can call you General again."

  "Again? You never stopped." He eyed his son. "You haven't answered my question, Picus."

  "What answer would you have, Father? You read your warrant. It's unique. You have autonomy under imperial seal. I can't tell you what to do, nor can any other."

  "You can make suggestions if I ask for them."

  Picus nodded, smiling. "True, I can."

  "Well then. I have already asked you. How do you see our role here developing?"

  "I would like to see it develop considerably, Father, if you are willing. How many horses do you have now?"

  "You mean trained cavalry mounts?" Picus nodded and Caius shook his head. "I don't know with certainty. Victorex will have the exact number, but I suspect it will be around a hundred and fifty, perhaps a hundred and seventy-five. No more."

  "Hmmm! Not enough." Picus sat in deep thought, flicking his thumbnail against his teeth. "I can let you have a hundred more now, and the same again, later, say in six months to a year."

  "Can you, by God?" I jumped into the conversation again. "And how will you justify that to your superiors?"

  He grinned at me in boyish delight. "What superiors, Uncle? I have none in Britain, once Stilicho is gone. No, that's not strictly true. Marcus Telia, Military Commander of the Province of South Britain, is my nominal superior, but he has been well briefed by Stilicho on the real extent of his jurisdiction over me. He is to forward my reports to Stilicho regularly, assist me in any way he can in the strengthening of my command, preserve my autonomy in terms of allowing no interference with my performance of my duties and otherwise leave me strictly alone. I don't have to justify anything to anyone. I have decided to supply you with the horseflesh you need, so that you in turn can be useful to me in the prosecution of my mandate. If your men are well enough mounted, they can patrol this whole region and set up watching-posts and cavalry depots along the entire coastline of the territories given into your charge by Stilicho."

  "To the north or to the south?"

  "Both, eventually. For the moment, to the north, guarding the estuary leading to Glevum and freeing my men there for duty in the south-east. And there, if I needed any, is my justification."

  Britannicus jumped to his feet and clapped his hands loudly together. "Excellent! So be it! We will work together." The door opened in answer to his summons and old Gallo came back into the room. "Gallo, is General Picus's room ready for him?"

  "Of course, Master." There was just the barest hint of reproach in the old man's voice.

  "Good. Excellent. When will dinner be ready?"

  "Whenever you are, Master. The ladies are waiting."

  "Then we are ready now. Come, Publius, Picus, let's dine. Your aunt will be glad to see you, lad."

  "I hope so, and I will be glad to see her. It has been months now since I was last here."

  We began walking towards the dining room, and as we went, Picus began quizzing me on weapons, asking how we were solving the problem of arming our men.

  "Oh," I told him, "we are making some headway, but nothing revolutionary. We've had no major design breakthroughs. I'll show you what we have tomorrow, if you're still here. Will you be still here?"

  He grinned and raked his spread fingers across his close-cropped scalp. "I'll be here. I have had a rough couple of weeks and could use a day off. I'll get back on the road before dawn the following day."

  "Fine." I clapped him on the shoulder. "Now, no more talk of weapons or of war. Your aunt and your niece are completely tied up in their arrangements for the wedding next spring. Since Veronica has 'become a woman,' as she likes to phrase it, she and her mother have formed a conspiracy to domesticate the men in this household. We are actively discouraged from discussing business at table. Your father and I have decided that, until the wedding is over, we will humour them. We talk of generalities and social affairs at table now, all of which means that we listen to the latest developments in planning the nuptials."

  He laughed aloud. "It sounds as though this is going to be a major celebration."

  "Depend upon it. It is," his father answered him. "And I for one am not unhappy about it. Bear in mind what I said earlier about the underlying connotations of this match. The more moment we accord to it, the better it will suit itself to our purposes."

  "You mean it really is political? A dynastic marriage?" He was still half joking.

  "Yes, I do. The young people like each other, which is a valuable bonus. But this marriage is, nevertheless, political above and beyond all else. Had I planned it myself, I could not have arranged a better match. As it turned out, I did not have to. Varrus and Ullic between them arranged the contract, Varrus in total innocence of its portent. Ullic, I know, knew what he was doing."

  I interrupted. "By the way, Picus, what of Seneca? Is he still in Britain?"

  He barked a laugh. "Oh, yes, he's still in Britain. He's my commander in the north and I keep a close eye on him. He knows I do, and he takes great care to keep his nose clean."

  "What will happen when Stilicho leaves? Do you expect any trouble from him?"

  "From Seneca, you mean? The only way he can cause me trouble is to mutiny, and if he tries that, I'll crucify him, and he knows it. No, he'll cause no trouble. He has two more years to serve, according to imperial decree. When he gets out, then he might try to cause trouble for me, but the prospect holds no terror."

  We arrived at the doors of the dining room just as he concluded this last sentence, and Britannicus placed his finger to his lips in a silent "Shhh," his right eyebrow quirked high in his own particular way, and led Picus and me, both grinning, into the company of the ladies.

  XX

  I slept poorly that night and rose long before dawn had even begun to register in the east. So I was surprised to find Picus up and about ahead of me, finding himself some breakfast. We ate together and talked for a while, and he suggested going for a ride. I was happy to go, but I made a joke out of slipping away quickly before Luceiia noticed us and found some work for me to do. We were soon mounted and heading out into the open fields behind the villa, where we gave our horses their head and let them gallop until they became tired and slowed of their own volition. My mount, Germanicus, was four hands shorter than the big black Picus was riding, and yet he was the biggest horse we had in our entire stable. I
was eyeing the big black with my new appreciation for horseflesh when Picus broke in on my thoughts.

  "Would Aunt Luceiia really have stopped you from coming, Uncle?"

  I looked at him in amazement. "Of course not, it was a joke! She'd never even think of such a thing. Why would you ask that... you find it credible?"

  He was frowning slightly, perplexed. "I don't know. Women are a mystery to me... I never feel at ease in their company, never know what to think or do... I can't imagine being married to one."

  I grinned. "Welcome to the world most men inhabit! When you're safely married, you learn to appear to think and to do what you're told to think and do, if you want a quiet, peaceful life ... and in return, you're allowed to complain long-sufferingly about how hard it is to be so blessed... And that was another joke!" It earned me an uncertain, not-quite-convinced kind of smile.

  By this time we were more than three miles from the villa, at the upswell of a range of low hills that held one of my favourite spots for being alone, by myself or with Luceiia.

  "Swing left, over that way." I pointed with my chin and Picus kneed his big horse gently towards the hillside on the left, asking no questions. We swung into the rise and crested the hill to find a wooded depression that was hidden from below.

  "Here, let me lead the way. I've been here before." I guided Germanicus down into the bushes, following a trail he knew as well as I did. As we descended, the bushes grew taller and closer around us, brushing against us as we wound down into the centre of the hilltop. Picus was right behind me as Germanicus turned to the right, and suddenly we were in a tiny jewel of a valley, a natural amphitheatre ringed by rock face on three sides and by the dense growth we had come through on the fourth. The whole place was less than fifty paces wide in any direction. Straight in front of the path by which we had entered, a deep pool was fed by a silent cascade of water that glided down moss-covered rocks from the cliff above and fell free the last three feet to splash on a large, upthrust rock shelf so that the sunlight made rainbows in the spray. Along to the right of where we were, a bank of mossy turf looked as inviting as a down-filled couch.