Chapter 15

Velius grumbled to himself as he looked over the scrolls, papyrus, and wax tablets stacked on the table in front of him. When he’d been raised to legate, he’d accepted the bureaucracy requirements that came with the position, but since Ky’s arrival, the amount of record-keeping had exploded.

On the one hand, Velius understood the need for all of the documentation. Before his arrival, a legion was a community where the soldiers who served it rarely moved to another legion. They were almost personal units to the legate and his sub-officers as they were servants of the Empire as a whole. Considering the recent insurrection and past civil unrest, he agreed that the system had to be changed, but the new policy of shifting men around came with far more paperwork than Velius had originally envisioned when agreeing to it. Many of the systems that had previously worked had suddenly become untenable with the new system, and the solution always seemed to be mountains of reports.

In the old days, the legion would generally only know of the performance of whole units. The legate would only know about the cohorts and the commanders of the cohorts would only know about the centuries under his command, and so forth. Soldiers were raised in rank on the recommendation of the officer directly above him except in the rare case where a soldier did something noteworthy enough to become known to higher levels of command.

Now, it wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to be unknown to their officers, which meant it was impossible to know if a given soldier had done something to make promotion deserved. The move had additional complications, such as increased practice and drill times.

Combat was exhausting and even a fit, well-trained soldier could only manage to be effective for five to ten minutes of direct contact before becoming too exhausted to continue. One of the strengths of a legion is the ability for troops on the front lines to rotate back as they tired, letting fresh troops move forward to take their place.

These exchanges required fine precision built off of a unit operating as a single, well-oiled machine. If a century were off on their timing, dangerous gaps could open in the line, and even a brief exposure could lead to the line breaking. All of this was true the higher up in formations things got. The solution to this is for a soldier to know the men around him to such a degree that they could predict what those men would do before they did it. Without the familiarity bred by long periods of service with the same group of men, the only other solution was increased levels of training.

The problems only amplified as the formations got larger, because the same thing that was true inside a century was also true between centuries or cohorts. Entire centuries or even cohorts could be rotated as needed to bring up fresh troops, and those exchanges needed larger scale training exercises, all of which would take entire legions out of combat readiness as they re-trained.

Ky had promised that, eventually, new technology would allow for some changes in this process. Velius wasn’t sure what Ky had referred to when he talked about new forms of weapons that were less physically taxing on the soldiers, but so far the Consul hadn’t steered them wrong, so Velius was sure that he’d eventually learn what these things were. Until then, however, the reality of the changes caused by rotating soldiers existed, mostly on the shoulders of Velius and the other legates.

Which brought him to the records still stacked in front of him.

“Sir,” one of the guards in front of his tent said, breaking his concentration.

Velius looked up to see the tent flap pulled back to show Ursinus, the newest legate, waiting to speak to him. Velius sighed internally, fighting to keep his face neutral.

It wasn’t that he disliked the man. In fact, the opposite was true. When he’d first heard one of Lucilla’s guard detail was being raised from a mere Optio all the way up to a legate, he’d been worried. That kind of jump almost only ever came as a reward for some favorable service done or as a political move, and always at the detriment to the legion itself.

True, Lucilla had never struck him as that kind of person, but she’d lived her entire life in the upper echelons of Roman politics and even the Emperor, who Velius knew to be a good man, had been forced to make similar moves in the past. It was just how the game was played and the repercussions of it were just something that men like Velius had to deal with.

He was more than thankful that didn’t turn out to be the case, here. Ursinus was a thoughtful and intelligent man who cared about the troops under his command while still having the ability to put them in harm’s way to get a job done, which was an important combination in a combat leader. What’s more, he’d been willing to admit to the things he didn’t know and worked to learn them or ask for help rather than bluster his way through trying to save face.

There had been growing pains, of course. You couldn’t jump two-thirds of the Roman military hierarchy in a single leap without there being issues, and Ursinus had needed more hand-holding than the normal newly minted legate, but he was trying.

Unfortunately, Velius knew why Ursinus had darkened his doorway, and why he’d had to control himself from expressing displeasure at the visit.

“Ursinus, it’s good to see you,” Velius said with a forced smile.

“I doubt that, since I know you have an idea of why I’m here.”

“I assume it’s the unit changes you got this morning.”

“You assume correctly. Did you see the list I received?’

“Yes. I approved all of those changes.”

“I get that we have a manpower problem, but mine is the newest legion and has the smallest number of experienced small unit leaders and yet I have the largest collection of Pic ... sorry, Caledonian transfers of any legion. Ten of whom are scheduled to become Decanus and one who’s supposed to be an Optio.”

“You feel they shouldn’t be leading other men into combat?”

“They don’t have the experience fighting in our style of close drill, let alone leading other men to do it. Besides, we’re already having issues with soldiers not wanting to follow untrained leaders. What do you think will happen when they find out they have to report to one of those people?”

“Have you spoken to any of the ten men?”

“Not yet,” Ursinus said, looking wary.

“You really should. These men have led hundreds of their own warriors into battle, so eight Romans shouldn’t prove that much of a challenge. On top of that, they have done well in adapting to our style during training. Be glad you’re not Aelius, who was in here this morning complaining about his transfers, a full third of whom are officers pulled out of the surrendered Carthaginians.”

“Oh!” Ursinus said.

Velius didn’t blame him. It was easy to get lost in your own problems and miss out on the bigger picture. It was, actually, one of the bigger problems he’d had in adjusting to his new position as overall commander.

“I’m surprised you didn’t complain about the large contingent of ex-slaves you were assigned.”

“I thought so too when I first saw them, but they had already been dispersed to their units while I was in the city, and the reports I received when I returned were generally fairly good. They are, as a lot, uneducated and have to be taught the simple things I’d expect any other new recruit to learn, but my officers couldn’t stop commenting on their drive and motivation.”

“That’s generally what everyone else has reported, too. All of the fears about their wanting to overthrow the government or whatever seem to be unfounded. If anything, what I’m hearing is that they want to prove themselves, and go twice as hard as any regular recruit.”

“Which is my biggest complaint about the north men. My men constantly report unwillingness to train and contempt towards any attempt to motivate them. They look down on any Roman officers over them.”

“That also seems to be common among the complaints I heard, which is why we gave you the majority of the Caledonians slated to be officers. They don’t have contempt for all leaders, just a cultural bias that we have to get around. Until they adapt, put the Caledonian officers in charge of the units with the largest number of their countrymen, and have them camp next to the units that don’t have Caledonian officers, but still have units with higher proportions. They’re more likely to keep their countrymen in line. Before he headed north, I brought my concerns about this very topic up with the Consul, and he assured me that, once they’d all been tested in battle together, a lot of the prejudices would go away, or at least be tempered.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Which is why I am paid so well,” he said, and both men laughed.

Traditionally, Legates made a notable amount of money, but usually, through their hefty percentage of the spoils their legion collected. Although they never came out and said it, Velius had been sure that one of Eborius and Pius’s big complaints had been Ky’s making the taking of spoils illegal and banning it from all of the legions. He’d compensated the soldiers themselves with regular pay that more than made up for their losses, considering they only got spoils during times of actual conflict, but the amount of money a legate could make from the sack of a fair-sized city was more than anyone would pay one commander, when they actually had time to think about it.

Although legates were still compensated more than any other class of soldier, it wouldn’t set them up in a villa for the rest of their lives.

“Since you’re here, you could always stay and help me go over these reports,” Velius said, waving at the stack in front of him.

“Uhh ... I suddenly realized I have a staff meeting I have to prepare for,” Ursinus said, half turning to go while eyeing the paperwork.

Velius laughed and came around the table, “I was only joking, don’t feel like you have to rush out immediately. How about having dinner instead?”

“I guess the preparations for the staff meeting can wait,” Ursinus replied.

While he didn’t end up helping Velius with his paperwork, the command legate did find it helpful to have someone to bounce ideas off of. The one thing they both could agree on was that they’d be happier when Ky returned.

The Village of Rhaeadr

Lucilla made good time getting north, although she didn’t ride horses until they dropped dead like Ky had done for his mad dash, so she didn’t quite make the same time he had. Even in her haste, she hadn’t failed to notice how well Modius and Cynwrig had worked to get her to Ky as quickly as possible, sending riders north to both the praetorians and the Caledonian scouts patrolling the border.

Having Llassar along proved its worth when he cut through any hesitancy by Caledonians who didn’t see the need to help the daughter of the Emperor the way the praetorians would, and getting them to both lead Lucilla’s party to where Talogren was currently camped and send a rider ahead to make sure they knew she was coming.

This saved the time it would have taken wandering around the northern hinterlands searching for their chieftain. That had been helped by the fact that Talogren had remained camped outside the field of his last battle, which concerned Lucilla.

They were well north and west, essentially at the edge of their territory. According to Llassar, the villages further north or against the coast were so small as to generally be ignored or go unnoticed. Considering all of the people and land Talogren had added to his newly expanded league, it didn’t make sense for him to stay so disconnected, especially since the base of his power was at the very opposite end corner of Caledonian lands. Staying here meant needing to constantly communicate with local chieftains about the various items that plagued any chief of state, which was a cumbersome way to lead.

Lucilla could think of very few things that would keep them sedentary in one spot like that, and Ky being seriously injured was one of those.

Ky’d related how personally the north men had taken his connection to the Empire and the value they seemed to place on him. At the time, he’d mostly been explaining as a way of complaining, since he was not a fan of what he considered undue attention, but it was an indicator of how important he was and what his incapacitation would mean for them.

Instead of taking them to Ky directly, they were directed to a tent in the center of the camped Caledonians that was slightly larger than the tents surrounding it. Talogren had been speaking with someone when they walked in, waving the person off as soon as he saw them. Lucilla couldn’t help but notice the chieftain’s eyes flicking to Llassar, who remained standing beside and slightly behind her. She’d learned enough about the northern culture to know this position was one of, not quite subservience, but something like it. It allowed the primary person in a group to stand ahead of the rest and be seen and heard. In groups of roughly equal status people, they’d all kind of hustle to be closest to the person they were talking to, usually with a fair amount of pushing and shoving. She assumed Llassar remained there as a show of support and a silent sign to his chieftain that she wasn’t the same person who’d been brought bound into their camp the last time she’d faced Talogren.

“Why are you here?” he asked, skipping all of the pleasantries and preamble.

“I felt that Ky was in trouble and I came to see him, and hopefully help him if I could.”