Chapter 25

Port of Kalb, Hispania

Cormac stood in the center of the partially finished auditorium watching representatives from across Hispania file in. He was glad to see the architects had already put in the sun coverings, as it helped with some of the late summer heat.

If he was being honest, Cormac wasn’t sure he understood why the Romans loved building these kinds of venues. The large coliseums that hosted fights, wrestling matches, and contests; those he could understand. That kind of contest was as old as time itself. These sunken performance places though, with their semi-circular design and wide “stage” area, he didn’t get. He’d gone to see one play when he’d been in Devnum, and had been bored to death by it.

Still, as a meeting venue, it was excellent. Not quite as nice as their forum, it was a far sight better than converted warehouses and barns for holding large gatherings. And this one was particularly large. When he had put the word out for this conclave, Cormac had expected grudging participation similar to the last few gatherings of the tribes. He was surprised to see that he’d been wrong. He still wasn’t well versed on every tribe and its representatives, yet, but it seemed to him that nearly every tribe in Hispania was represented here, based on, if nothing else, by the volume of people arriving.

“Thank you for coming,” Cormac said, as it seemed the last few leaders made their way down the steps, finding seats. “The last time we met, there was a lot of discussion about assaults on villages and tribes across Hispania, mostly around the central regions. I sent out agents to investigate all of these claims, to see where the attacks happened, and to talk to the survivors. Many were found to be exactly as was described. Small villages raided by men using weapons sold to them by Britannia. Some, however, were not. One, that I know everyone here was interested in, was the assault on the Arandur village of Neitin. It was notable, because many of the attacked tribes identified the Arandur themselves as the perpetrators, and their claim that one of their villages was raided in the same way was a strong defense that they were not to blame. Which is why I know it is of interest to many of those gathered here today to hear that, from everything my investigators found, there was no outside attack on that village.”

A ripple of conversations erupted across the auditorium.

“In fact,” Cormac continued, raising his voice over the din. “The evidence shows that what was presented as a raid on their village was in fact staged, with villagers attacked and even killed by warriors from Arandur themselves and threats made to the survivors to convince them to offer false accusations of an attack.”

The representative of the Arandur stood and started to shout something, but Cormac had been watching him, waiting for the interruption. As soon as the man stood, he raised his voice another level and continued, speaking over the man.

“I brought these revelations to their leader, demanding answers, and I was told that if I made our findings public, it would ... not could, would, incite open warfare among all the tribes. Promises were made to sow seeds of chaos and disruption across Hispania if word of the truth got out. What’s more, I was told that the only way to keep the Arandur from using one tribe against another, from raiding and killing at will, was to resume our sales of weapons to that tribe and to support them as they consolidated power across the peninsula. It seems the Arandur have decided they alone deserve to rule Hispania through force and fear, replacing Carthaginian rule with a rule of their own. I tell you now; Britannia will not stand by and let that happen.”

“Lies!” the Arandur representative shouted. “More Roman deception meant to turn the tribes against each other so they can swoop in and take control!”

“We did not pluck your tribe’s name randomly from the air,” Cormac said. “Nearly every raided village, with the exception of yours, has identified your tribe as the perpetrators of the raids. Why is it that your own neighbors, who know exactly who you are, all agree that you are behind the attacks?”

“Because they have been bought off by promises of gold and power by you. Scum who sell themselves, whores for Britannian favor, hold no sway.”

“Then perhaps we should hear from your own people,” Cormac said, waving toward one of the auditorium entrances.

Llassar appeared at the top of the steps with four people in simple clothing, each sporting multiple injuries. As they walked down the steps, three of the four looked to the ground, nervously refusing to look up. The fourth, a woman, glared daggers at the Arandur representative as they made their way to the center floor, to stand next to Cormac.

“These are villagers from Neitin. People injured by their own leaders’ avarice. But don’t hear it from me,” Cormac said, and stepped aside, gesturing for the woman.

“My name is Atta and I come from the village of Neitin. My home was on the north end of the village. I lived with my husband and young daughter; we were poor but happy. Then, a group of warriors arrived late one night. Men I vaguely knew, or at least had seen before, from the central village to the south. Indortes, my husband, went out to greet them. The leader didn’t even speak to him, only pulled a sword and rammed it through his heart. The rest came past him, into my home, grabbed me and my daughter, and pulled us outside. They...”

Her words turned into sobs. Even the Arandur representative knew better than to speak up at this moment, interrupting this woman’s obvious grief. After a moment, her sobs slowed and she regained control of her emotions.

“My daughter was killed in front of me. I was to be next, but Arranes, one of our neighbors, ran up, hearing my screams, and demanded to know what was happening. They killed him for his kindness, but the distraction he caused saved me. I ... I ran. I should have stayed and died with my husband and child, but ... I was terrified. I ran and ran. They chased me, and would have caught me if not for Urcha. She has a burn and she was hiding there. She grabbed me and pulled me in with her. The warriors passed us, and ran on. We stayed in those woods for days, starving, too afraid to go back to the village. Only when foreign soldiers came did we leave the forest.”

“More lies. I will not stay here and listen to this deceit!” the Arandur representative screamed, before turning to look over the other representatives. “We should all leave now, before we allow ourselves to become slaves again!”

With that, he stormed out of the row he had been sitting in and up the steps, toward the exit, in a huff. One other man made to follow but hesitated when no one else moved. Sheepishly, he sat back down. The Arandur man turned, face reddening as he saw no one else following him out. Spitting on the ground, he turned and left in a fury.

Cormac watched him go before turning back to the rest of the assembled leaders.

“Well, that was dramatic,” Cormac said. “I appreciate the faith you’ve all shown Britannia to serve as a neutral representative. I promise you now that, despite the provocations of the Arandur, we will continue to act in good faith and work towards a peaceful and prosperous future for Hispania.”

He paused again, letting his words sink in before he continued.

“However, I do not think that the Arandur are done. They made it clear that, if their demands were not met, they would escalate their attacks. The fact that none of the rest of you stood with them will only make their anger stronger. They will look to weaken the rest of you, and if I had to guess, I would say they will target the smaller tribes first. They may be standing alone, but that doesn’t mean they are any less dangerous. Alone, I’m not sure any of you could stand up to them, which is why, again, I propose some form of alliance between the rest of you. The only way you will stand up to them, and future challenges, is if you pull together. You can’t do it alone. Britannia has offered to stand with any tribe that honors its promises, and to stand with any alliance you form amongst yourselves, and we will honor that. If you take the fight to the Arandur, Britannian legionnaires will stand with you.”

The men began to excitedly talk among themselves, and Cormac had the sense that, this time, his suggestion was being taken much more seriously.

“While you consider that, I will add that I am a man of my word,” Cormac continued. “I already sent a request to Britannia to send men to the ruins of Port Invictus to begin rebuilding it. Once finished, I will work with whatever form the tribes here agree to function together as to hand the port and its governance over to you.”

Across the auditorium, men began getting up and gathering in clumps, excitedly discussing the proposal. Cormac wasn’t done yet, though. He had one thing left to add and, with as excited as everyone else was, this seemed to be the best time to bring it up.

“Before you disperse to deliberate further, I have one other consideration,” Cormac said, raising his voice above the din. “As dangerous as the Arandur are, they are not the greatest threat to your existence. Britannia is on the verge of defeating the Carthaginians, but our victory is not yet complete. In fact, it hangs in the balance for want of enough men to complete the defeat of your former overlords. Britannia desperately needs assistance if we are to finish the job. Assistance in the form of additional manpower.”

Shouts, not yet angry, but at least concerned, started going up around the auditorium.

“Wait, hear me out, please,” Cormac said, raising a hand. “I’m not asking you to send your men into combat or to join our legions. I know you’ve had your fill of being pressed into service so far away, and we would not ask that of you. We would, of course, welcome any young men who wish to see the last great war of our lifetime and take part in the defeat of the Carthaginians, but we would not ask it of you. What we ask is additional men who would bolster our rear-guard forces in Italia and the accompanying islands. We have entered regions that, instead of yearning to overthrow their masters, have lain under the yoke for so long that they resent the removal of it.”

“If we are to take the fight to the Carthaginians,” he continued. “We need as many of our legionnaires as possible in Africa, and cannot spare them for garrison work, especially since that garrison work covers enough ground that it would take the bulk of our forces to cover it. This would be a limited request, and your young men will be back home by winter. We know that might affect the harvests, and we have tools we are willing to give you to make up for their absence. Beyond the tangible gain, there will be a larger chance for the tribes here to build contacts with other nations. We have made similar requests of our friends in Gaul, Germania, and Scandia to assist us in maintaining peace in the freed lands. This would be an opportunity for your youths and theirs to learn about each other, become exposed to each other’s cultures, which would improve trade and relations between neighbors as we prepare to enter a new future, where each of our people have the chance to rule themselves as they see fit. As I said, we do not require this of you, we only ask for your help. I leave the decision to you.”

With that, Cormac and Llassar left the auditorium, helping the injured Arandur villagers out. The remaining men were already abuzz as he left.

Atlantic Ocean, Northwest Coast of Africa

Valdar inhaled, pulling in the deep, rich scent of the ocean, happy to be back on Oceanus again, with its dark waters and roiling waves. There was something about the vast expanse that smelled different than the Middle Sea. He knew landsmen would think him crazy if he said that out loud, but he knew he could smell it.