Chapter 138: The Hole (2)
We set out marching along the road instead of taking ships. To reach Briton as ordered by the imperial government, it was far quicker to head north by road than to wait for vessels bound for the mainland.
I sent Rikius ahead with a few soldiers.
Their mission was to procure hay and beans for the legion's pack mules and baggage horses. Oats and wheat for the troops could be easily obtained from local farms, so I focused more on this.
In Ilaria, we can probably secure hay and beans, but it won't be easy around Bellgorod. That's troubling.
The snow probably hadn't melted around Bellgorod yet. I even considered leaving the animals there and using rafts.
But such deliberations were a luxury. We ran into problems right from Ilaria.
"Hay and beans are in short supply?"
I asked, my face showing a hint of surprise, and Rikius bowed his head low.
"During the last barbarian invasion, many Ilaria residents fled or were slaughtered, and a good deal of farmland burned. We could barely procure half of what the legion needs."
"This is a problem."
I stroked my chin. Without enough hay and beans, we couldn't prevent the pack mules and horses from starving.
That would force the troops to carry the loads themselves, leading to exhaustion.
After a moment's thought, I told Rikius,
"Here's what we'll do. Slow the march and slaughter some of the mules and horses."
"That'll make it hard to reach Briton on time."
"If we're dragging the whole legion along, yes."
Rikius gave me a puzzled look at my words.
"What do you mean?"
"I'll ride ahead and cross the continent first. You follow slowly with the legionaries. Request additional hay and beans from the imperial government as you go—it should keep the legion moving without major issues."
"We can't send you to the battlefield alone, sir."
Rikius voiced his opposition.
"What about the Briton governor and legions waiting desperately for reinforcements? To show the imperial government hasn't abandoned them, aid must arrive on time."
"Then let me go ahead."
I shook my head at Rikius's offer. I appreciated his concern, but sending him wouldn't change a thing.
"Even if I sent you, it wouldn't help Briton much. You're a reliable soldier and friend, but the barbarians don't know your name. I'm a figure of terror to them. Even without a legion, word of my arrival will make them hesitate. That's why I have to go first, alone."
"……."
"So lead the legion to Bellgorod. Rubiot will assign a suitable commander when you arrive."
"Sir."
"I don't expect to hear 'I can't.' You can do it."
I clapped his shoulder, and Rikius nodded.
"Understood. I'll lead the legion as ordered."
"Good. Set a pace that doesn't strain them. Hurrying is fine, but I don't want exhausted troops arriving."
"Yes, sir."
I swung up onto my horse.
"Gorgo!"
I called for my bodyguard, and the burly ex-gladiator came running.
"Yes, sir."
"We'll outpace the legion and head to Briton. Bring your fellow guardsmen."
"Yes, sir."
I sent Gorgo to fetch the Praetorian Guard cavalry. Since I, the supreme commander, was on campaign, the Praetorian legion's eagle standard was with the column.
Flutter, flutter.
The imperial emblem hanging from the eagle standard whipped in the wind.
I stared at it and clenched my fist.
We crossed the continent in just a week and reached Belanga. But the news from beyond the strait was worse than expected.
The walls and legion bases have all fallen, and the legions are retreating? Isn't this worse than the Briton rebellion before?
My men looked grim after hearing the sailors' tales. I hurriedly boarded a ship to cross the strait.
"Cast off!"
The sailors untied the lines. To avoid getting in their way, I retreated to the cabin. On second thought, it was no surprise the Briton legions had fallen back so easily.
Briton's eagles had been gravely weakened by last year's "major rebellion."
When I wielded full authority as Praetorian prefect, reorganization of frontier legions began—but Briton's were the exception. Replenishing the northern and eastern armies' key legions after their massive losses had stretched us thin.
Briton province's status as an economically worthless "poor backwater" played a role too.
Neglecting to reinforce its troops left the province virtually defenseless against barbarians.
Briton's garrison totaled four legions (one little more than nominal)—barely 4,000 men. Hardly enough to guard the long coastline, forts, and cities, let alone maintain order.
The barbarians seized the opportunity and invaded. And not long after tasting defeat. I regretted overestimating Briton's defenses and delaying reinforcements.
Even so, I crushed them mercilessly alongside the Briton rebels last year. Have the Hiberia survivors rejoined them?
If so, the enemy force I'd face would be far larger. Easily over ten thousand.
Even with the Atillca legion, suppression might not be easy.
I stood at the rocking rail, gazing at fog-shrouded Londinium. The city's walls were faintly visible through the mist. On a clear day, I'd have seen the imperial banners flying atop them.
I smacked my lips.
Thud!
As the city drew nearer, a heavy impact echoed. I started at the sound.
Are the barbarians besieging Londinium?
I hadn't heard that when boarding at Belanga. Had they pushed this far?
I steeled my face, fearing the situation was worse than imagined.
Moments later, the ship entered a bay indenting toward Londinium. The fog parted, revealing the city's full vista. Scanning the walls, I gaped at the scene before them.
A massive host.
I swallowed dryly at the sea of barbarian tents and catapults blanketing the ground before the walls. Their numbers exceeded my worst guesses—easily twenty thousand. No wonder Briton was screaming for help.
That size... Hiberia beyond the walls, plus northern sea barbarians—all in?
A chill ran down my spine.
For some reason, they'd come in force this time. Perhaps seeing the empire weakened by the Etna eruption as a sign from the gods?
Possible. Exaggerated rumors could spread via border traders.
Anyway, a headache.
If they interpreted the eruption as divine abandonment, other subdued tribes might stir. A defeat here could unravel everything.
I pushed the thought aside.
"Sir, signals from the harbor."
"Bring us in close."
I replied calmly, composing my features.
As our ship neared the harbor, barbarian catapults hurled stones our way.
Boom!
A boulder splashed nearby, sending up a spray. Troops and sailors paled momentarily. It hadn't come close, but it rattled us enough.
Sensing the men couldn't enter the city terrified, I drew my sword and slammed it against the rail.
Clang!
Their eyes snapped to me as I struck.
I bellowed to them,
"The barbarians are greeting us! How about we moon them in return?"
My jest broke the tension; laughter erupted.
A few soldiers actually approached the rail, dropped their breeches, and bared their asses. An embarrassing sight, but no women aboard—thankfully.
"Hey, you barbarian scum! Here's some ass! Hit it if you can!"
One soldier yelled, ass out.
"Here's my cock for ya!"
They shouted knowing the barbarians couldn't hear, but it helped anyway.
Mock the fearsome foe to conquer fear. No better way.
I sighed in relief; the frontier trick worked again. The men shook their asses at the enemy, forgetting their dread.
The ship soon docked, and crowds surged forward.
"Reinforcements!"
I pushed through to solid ground. Spotting me, they recognized and cheered.
"It's Imperator Ain!"
"The one who crushed the rebels!"
Londinium's citizens remembered my triumphal face.
"We're saved—the empire's eagle has come!"
"Thanks to His Majesty for remembering Briton! Victory for the empire! Long live the emperor!"
I raised a hand to their fervor.
"Order to Briton!"
They chanted my name in response.
"Ain! Ain! Ain!"
"Your popularity is impressive, sir."
Gorgo, who had disembarked with me, said cautiously.
"It's even greater among barbarians. You'll see."
I grinned and clapped his shoulder.
Escorted by citizens, we headed to the governor's mansion. Soldiers formed a barrier against the throng.
At the mansion, new governor Privus—assigned last winter—emerged pale as death. Burdened by duty and fear, he looked on the verge of collapse.
"Imperator Ain. The general himself... Is His Majesty crossing the strait too?"
I shook my head at Privus's hopeful query.
"Just me."
"The Praetorian Guard legion then?"
"The Guard remains at the capital. As you know, post-Etna chaos prevents deploying main forces."
"Then the Atillca legion."
I gave a wry smile.
"Regrettably, they haven't arrived."
Privus looked flustered.
"Then?"
"Immediate aid is just me and my guards."
"With tens of thousands of barbarians outside, only the general?"
As disappointment showed, I placed a hand on my hip.
"I'm the immediate reinforcement, but hardly insufficient for Londinium's defense. What good is my name worth less than tens of thousands? If I stand on the walls and declare Ain's arrival in Briton, the barbarians will tremble more than at a full army."
Privus seemed unconvinced.
Half-joking, of course.
"For now, I want to take command of the garrison. Where are the legion commanders?"
Privus replied weakly.
"All murdered."
"What?"
I asked incredulously.
"Four days ago, during dinner before a meeting, the legion commander and six key officers were poisoned."
Gods.
Now I understood Privus's desperation for fresh troops.
With forces depleted and generals poisoned, morale must be abysmal.
In this state, Londinium's fall was imminent.
But surrendering to defeat wasn't my style.
Hiding my shock, I told the governor,
"With the generals dead, may I assume sole command?"
"As you wish."
I exchanged brief courtesies and hurried to the walls. This mission wouldn't be easy.
(To be continued)