The Hole (3)
As I approached the walls, officers and soldiers turned to stare. Having heard the cheers from the citizens at the harbor, they seemed excited, believing reinforcements had arrived.
But when they saw how few we were, the soldiers' faces darkened.
I leaped from my horse, my black cloak billowing.
"The Empire's Praetorian Prefect, Lord Ain, has arrived. Salute him!"
Gorgo bellowed. At that booming voice, the soldiers' disappointed expressions turned to wide-eyed shock.
"General Ain? The one who crushed the Briton rebels?"
"Yeah, I remember seeing him before. It's really General Ain."
Confirming my identity, the soldiers lit up with joy and dropped to their knees. The officers shouted.
"Briton's eagles pay homage to His Majesty's blade."
I raised my hand in response.
"My homage to the legion devoted to the Empire."
As I moved forward, every eye locked on me. The legend who annihilated the barbarians had come as relief—the news electrified them all.
I ignored the burdensome gazes and ascended the wall stairs leisurely. I wanted to reach the top and assess the situation immediately, but eyes were watching. Anyone else might rush, but I had to show composure.
Once atop the wall, a few officers knelt.
"I'm Fabius, 2nd Battalion commander of the 18th Legion. Currently acting Legion Commander."
I nodded to the various acting commanders' greetings, then walked the wall with the officers, receiving their report.
"The barbarians reached near Londinium five days ago. Until then, the situation was serious, but we weren't worried about the city falling."
"And then?"
"As you may have heard, four days ago, all our legion commanders were poisoned. While we floundered, barbarian ships sailed straight into Londinium's harbor."
"Ships from Hiberia—or across the North Sea."
"Yes."
"Loaded with siege engines."
Only then did I understand why things had deteriorated so quickly.
Someone—unknown to me—thoroughly planned this, directing the barbarians.
Managing my expression, I asked the officers,
"How much siege gear did the barbarians bring by ship?"
"Mostly medium catapults. Not powerful enough to breach the walls, but enough to wear down the soldiers."
"Any intel on who's leading the barbarians?"
"The one out front is Regulus, the new king of Hiberia."
"Regulus? I've spent time in Briton, but that's a new name to me."
"After the last war, when Hiberia's king retreated without fighting you, some dissatisfied tribes rebelled. Regulus killed him and took the crown."
"A sudden upstart. No wonder there's no intel. How old is this Regulus?"
"Not even twenty—a green boy."
I rubbed my chin.
If King Regulus was a boy under twenty, the current situation made little sense. Even a genius couldn't easily rally northern barbarians across the sea and immigrants beyond the North Sea for a Briton invasion. He lacked the 'reputation' and prestige to move people.
So the true mastermind was someone else. Regulus was just a puppet, egged on by Hiberia's hardliners and his own hot blood.
"Then the real instigator is elsewhere."
"We think so too."
"Understood."
I flung my cloak and gazed beyond the wall.
The barbarian horde filling the plain before Londinium induced vertigo just to behold.
Siege weapons and organized unit deployments. They're crudely mimicking our tactics. A barbarian who's fought the Empire is commanding?
I pondered, studying the enemy lines.
Few among them had the caliber to muster such a force. Fewer than five names came to mind: Brikin, hero of the Thunder Tribe who bent the knee to the Empire; Sargess and Aldemark, who terrorized our northern borders; my father-in-law, Dane King Orestes, Empire ally. Even my vast battlefield experience yielded no more.
But Brikin was under Empire protection, and Orestes was in a contract sending his troops for gold. Neither could be involved.
Sargess and Aldemark were possibilities, but survivors fleeing into icy waters alone plotting this seemed unlikely. Then who?
I stood gripping my scabbard, deep in thought.
Rooo!
The half-day catapult barrage ended as night fell. Barbarians advanced with torches, blowing horns to intimidate us.
Classic psychological warfare, but effective in unsettling us—a northern barbarian ploy against Empire troops.
I swished salty water in my mouth and spat.
"Ptooey."
Rinsing cleared the sticky aftertaste of barley porridge.
As I finished and wiped my mouth with a cloth, Fabius approached, bowing.
"What is it?"
"The barbarians have sent an envoy."
"Barbarians sending an envoy?"
They'd refused all exchanges until now. Sending one at night? Suspicious.
But I agreed to meet. I couldn't read their intent, but announcing my arrival in Londinium could be useful.
I donned my cloak and headed to the harbor. I could have met at the governor's mansion, but no need to show courtesy.
Soon, the barbarian envoy arrived in a skiff. They'd entered the harbor since we wouldn't open the gates.
As the boat docked, soldiers lining the narrow channel walls nocked arrows, creating a hostile atmosphere.
I didn't stop them. No reason to hide enmity from invaders of Empire soil, unless friendly diplomats.
The boat touched land. The envoy wore lion skin, suggesting high status.
I waited as he approached, then froze at his face—it was familiar.
That guy.
I quickly recognized him.
He startled seeing me, then smiled.
"Never dreamed the Empire's renowned Praetorian Prefect would be here."
I hardened my expression.
"Belsiter."
He was King Orestes' third son, who'd briefly served with Dane mercenaries in our army. Erenia's half-brother—we'd met casually.
As I mulled his name, Belsiter grinned.
"Heard a ship arrived this afternoon—didn't know it was you, General. They'll be stunned when I report."
"Cut the jokes. Does your father know you're here?"
Coldly, I asked. Belsiter smirked.
"What does he have to do with this?"
"Your father's our ally. Planning to break the Dane-Empire pact?"
"Ah, that. Don't care. Whatever Father does is his business."
"It matters. If you're fighting with your men, responsibility falls on the Dane King."
"Fine, say that then. Now, our message."
Belsiter acted leisurely. Knowing I was here yet relaxed—he knew our overwhelming disadvantage.
But boy, you're misunderstanding the situation.
Hand on scabbard, I said,
"Message received. Whatever nonsense you spout, our reply is fixed. Gorgo! Take that fool's head."
My order dropped; Belsiter's eyes bulged. He hadn't expected it, starting to shout.
"What the—"
Splurt!
Gorgo beheaded him instantly.
As Belsiter's head rolled, the barbarians screamed.
"Killing an envoy! Such barbarity!"
I sneered at the protest.
"Courtesy for vermin breaking an alliance? Take his head and relay this clearly. I don't know your drivel, but our answer is one: death to all defying the Empire."
Grinding teeth, the barbarians retrieved Belsiter's corpse. As they boarded their skiff, Fabius asked,
"Lord, killing the envoy will enrage them."
"Anyone else, yes. But knowing I did it? They'll fear instead."
I clapped Fabius' shoulder.
The barbarians protested the envoy's death with a nighttime barrage. Thunderous impacts on the walls jolted dozing sentries awake.
Too provocative?
No regrets.
In dire straits, beheading an envoy without worry shows confidence.
That would make them dread me more.
Fortunately, they only hurled stones—no direct assault.
Still, needed something to terrify them. To buy time until the Atillca Legion arrived, deception or any ploy.
Was there a way?
Deep in thought, soldiers climbed the wall with lanterns. From afar, the lights seemed to rise into the sky.
Lights rising to the sky.
Lightning struck my mind.
Yes. That method.
I summoned the legion engineer officer.
"You called?"
"Can you make kites now?"
"Kites?"
He looked puzzled.
"Yes, kites."
"We can, but what for?"
"Purpose later. Make a few. Now."
I sent the engineer down.
I waited for kites.
An hour later, he brought two large military kites. Time-consuming due to size, but simple as children's toys.
I examined one.
"This'll do."
"Where to use the kites?"
"Fire tricks."
At my jest, he gaped.
"Attach lanterns—how big?"
"Soldier lanterns, easy."
"Good. Let's play."
I detailed attaching lanterns. I wanted fire-laden kites over enemy lines for a fiery rain.
Barbarians might copy, but our stone buildings minimized risk.
The officer admired the idea.
"This scares them without risk."
"Exactly. Minimal damage, but shocking."
He nodded.
Empire, short on wall defenders, attacking from the sky!
No damage, but the shock alone...
"Can you do it?"
"Yes."
"Good."
I ordered more lantern kites, then eyed the plains' barbarians.
(To be continued)