The Wings of Mercury
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 17
Carthage
Summer in Carthage was dreadful, especially for someone like Cormac, who had grown up in the cooler and much wetter climate of Ériu. Cormac had thought it was warm there in the summers, but he now realized it was nothing compared to Africa.
Even Hispania in the late summer could not compare to the oppressive heat here in Carthage. He was glad, at least, for the new standards for the uniforms of military officers, which he still styled himself as at least in dress, regardless of the fact that he spent little time with the legions themselves. The wool uniform might be a little stuffy, but it was still worlds more comfortable in the sun than heavy metal breastplates, that would become unbearably hot while cutting into his shoulders, no matter how much padding he used.
It was going to be a long day, so at least comfort wasn’t one of the things he was going to have to deal with. Standing on top of the steps, Cormac looked out at the sea of faces from all walks of life in Carthage. Every one of them was angry.
He had tried to keep today’s news, at least the topic of it, secret, but word had leaked out. The palace, although run by the Britannians and with a heavy Britannian staff, was still full of Carthaginians. Running a government took manpower, and only so much could come from the home islands. The rest was made up of vetted locals, but even with vetting, not everyone brought in was completely trustworthy. People could be very good at hiding connections and intentions. His wife had made sure he learned that lesson.
The place leaked like a sieve. It made Cormac wonder how Eoghan had ever thought he would keep his graft a secret.
There was nothing to do about it but start, unfortunately.
“Citizens of Carthage, I stand before you today with a heavy heart and a solemn duty. The unrest that has gripped this city can no longer be ignored. It is with great reluctance that I must announce the implementation of martial law, effective immediately.”
Even though it seemed most of the onlookers knew what he was going to announce, shock still seemed to ripple through the crowd.
“What does that mean for you? A curfew will be strictly enforced from sunset to sunrise. Anyone found on the streets without a pass from the palace or an official escort will be detained and investigated to determine if they are part of an insurgent group. This will be inflexible, so if you need essentials, you must get them before the sun goes down, or you will be held accountable for your flaunting of martial law. Furthermore, to limit large gatherings, all but three markets within the city, which we will designate, will be closed. The three markets that remain open will operate under strict regulations. They will be cordoned off, and only a limited number of people will be allowed in at a time, where they must do their shopping quickly and leave, and no one is allowed to gather at the entrances of the markets to wait for their turn. We will be testing different systems to find the one that will allow the most people in throughout the day, but these rules are immediate and go into effect as soon as the other markets are closed. Any illegal markets that spring up will be swiftly dealt with. Vendors and patrons of these unauthorized markets will face arrest, and all goods will be confiscated without exception.”
The mutterings got louder, as people became more incensed at hearing the specifics of their new limitations. Cormac had established a ring of praetorians around the area, in case things went badly, but for now he held them in place. He didn’t begrudge the citizens their anger, only required them to follow the rules they were given.
“Finally, there will be no public gatherings of any type unless authorized by the provincial government. Any groups larger than three people are forbidden to gather on the streets, and homes may not house more than three guests beyond their normal occupancy. Shops may remain open, but they must also abide by the three-person limit inside their stores. Those shops that break those limits will find their businesses closed, and homeowners who break the limits will be evicted from their homes permanently. Repeat offenders who continue to break curfews or assembly rules will find themselves detained.”
Again, a rumble rose throughout the crowd. Cormac knew that, between this and the closed markets, it was going to make life in the city hard for most of its residents, but it was the only thing he’d been able to think of to limit the crowds that had been causing violence. The graffiti and plotting were problems, but they did not directly destabilize the city. The rioting, on the other hand, was getting out of control.
“Down with Britannia! Carthage for Carthaginians!” a man near the front shouted.
Two men next to him picked up the chant.
“Guards! Arrest those individuals immediately!” Cormac said, pointing at the men.
The praetorians swept in, pressing against the crowd, as three of them came around front to grab the shouting men. This was what Cormac had feared, since this kind of demonstration could turn the entire gathering into a mob.
Thankfully, no one tried to pull the men deeper into the crowd or protect them, and after a minute, the men were hauled away, still shouting.
“Let me be absolutely clear; we will not put up with any foolishness. We will try to protect the people of this city and allow them to go about their days without harassment, but any instances of violence, the carrying of weapons, or damage to public property will be met with swift and severe consequences. These measures may seem harsh, but they have become necessary due to the lawlessness that has overtaken this city.”
The crowd made noise, but after the arrest of the three men, no one acted out.
“I understand these measures may seem severe, but I assure you, they are not the only changes coming to Carthage. The taxes instituted by the previous governor have been abolished. I know that some have heard about this already, as we ended them the day the governor was removed from his position and arrested, but we are announcing it again, now. In addition to their end, the special tax collectors appointed under his rule have been removed from their positions as well.”
This at least got something of a positive response. The tax collectors were universally hated by everyone in the city. No one would miss them.
“Moreover, the Britannic Empire acknowledges the wrongs inflicted upon this city and we look to make amends for that. Our goal is to see that Carthage is once again the shining jewel of the Mediterranean. But we cannot achieve this goal if the city descends into chaos. The restrictions I’ve outlined are temporary. The sooner peace returns to Carthage, the sooner we can lift these measures, so it is up to all of you to ensure the lawlessness and wanton destruction of property that has been occurring of late, ends. With the return of reason to your city, we will return freedom and peace to you.”
There was some grumbling, and Cormac knew that asking them to inform on their neighbors was a hard sell, but some would do it, if for nothing else than to end the restrictions. Medb was right, though. There was a chance this would backfire and unrest would grow instead. Unfortunately, he saw no other option to stop the unrest in the city.
He just hoped she was wrong and it worked.
Port Vikhavn
Valdar and a few guards lent to him by the garrison made their way up to the village, a few hours’ walk from the port, where the major tribe in the area was based. Actually, it was more accurate to say where the current major tribe in the area was based. The Ikondi tribe had not been the largest of the tribes in the area when Valdar had first arrived, but they had been the ones closest to the estuary where his ships had sailed in and the ones most open to working with the foreigners.
The first year, it had taken a lot of work to get the port up and running and to find food for the people there. Not only did the Ikondi help build the port and provide food for its people, they also protected the men he’d left there to establish the port from other tribes that had preferred not to let foreigners establish themselves in the nearby lands.
It was because of that protection that the commander of the garrison had given the tribe the first shipment of muskets and taught them how to use them. The Ikondi wasn’t a small tribe, but they were struggling to deal with all of the enemies they’d made defending the Britannians. Had things continued to progress, there was every chance they would have been forced to step aside or have fallen with the Britannians in those vulnerable early months.
They had taken to the weapons well, and by the end of the first year of the port’s existence the Ikondi had crushed or absorbed most of their neighbors, pushing the remaining few into conflict with tribes deeper in the continent.
All in all, it had led the Ikondi to be amenable to the Britannians, and the Britannians to them. There had been a few difficult points, as happens any time two peoples are in close contact, but they had managed to work through them. Mostly because the port really did need the locals, if only to supply foods and other usable goods that would be expensive and difficult to continually ship in, and the locals needed the Britannians to supply the weapons that gave them superiority over their neighbors.
Valdar arrived at the chieftain’s hut, which was now closer to a Roman-style house, another thing they’d taken from the Britannians, and stood outside waiting, head patiently bowed, not facing the door, as was the Ikondi’s tradition to show respect and deference to a chieftain.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Ekoko was a decent sort and didn’t abuse his rights. At least not against the Britannians. Valdar had to stand only for a minute, which was the traditional time the chieftain’s guards made him wait, for honor’s sake, before they ushered him inside. He found the chieftain inside with one of the small books that had been produced using the new printing presses put into service shortly after the war.
This one was a ‘primer’ as the Consul called it, teaching children how to read Latin, Caledonian, and Ulaid, as well as Scandi and several other languages of the continent. Valdar had to admit, they made it easier than how he’d been forced to learn as a child, through listening and repetition with his mother.
“Admiral! It is good to see you again. I trust your ship repairs are going well?”
Latin had been growing in popularity, mostly because of trade with the port and its visitors, and no one had worked harder to learn it than Chief Ekoko, who frankly spoke it better than Valdar himself did.
“Yes. Most of our ships are repaired as well as they can be until we can get them back to the docks in Devnum.”
“You should consider building one of those ... dry docks, I believe it is called, here. So that we may make ships for all.”
Valdar smiled. Ekoko had already seen the small stream of trade here, and how that had enriched his people. He’d made numerous trips to the port and talked to the sailors and men who came through, hearing about Kalb and Devnum and all the great trade and wonder that went through there, and wanted it for his people. He was convinced, probably rightfully, that if the Britannians built out this port more, and put more of their resources through it, his people would see some of the wealth from it.
Already, many of his people had started going in to work at the docks, paid in wages that they then used to buy goods from the few merchant houses based out of the port. Those goods then made it back into the villages, which only increased the need for Britannian goods more.
“I know, and if we ever do more work around the coast or set up a more permanent presence, it might be possible, but this is just an outpost on the edge of our Empire, and we do not want to infringe on your people more than we already have.”
“Yes. Always thinking of us. Your generosity knows no bounds. So, what is it that my people can do for our Britannian friends?”
His tone was sarcastic, but not actively mean or angry, although it was often hard to tell exactly what the chieftain was thinking.
“I come bringing news of the enemy we told you about almost a month ago. Our scouting ships have spotted them making their way north, finally. It seems as if they’ve finished their repairs and have decided to bring the fight to us. Our best guess is that they will be here in a few days’ time.”
“They are weak if they must repair all of their vessels in order to attack you again, instead of pressing the attack. You had your men ready to fight again in just days, and most of your ships ready in half the time they have taken, according to what the people at the docks have been saying.”
“It’s not that simple. These ships are hard to repair while they are underway, and even those repairs are limited in effectiveness. While we at least had a port here with supplies and were within a few weeks’ sail of a supply run from Kalb, they are months’ sail from home and, as far as I know, have no relief supplies. They would have had to repair under sail or beach their ships. Both time-consuming processes.”
“And you still think they have a larger number of ships than the impressive fleet in our harbor?” the chieftain asked.