Chapter 25

Lucilla made her way into the palace from the courtyard, preferring to take the back way in to avoid the throngs of petitioners and citizens coming and going on business, official or otherwise.

She couldn’t wait until the telegraph was finally installed, after hearing Ky describe what it would be like, enabling communication with a far-off city in an instant. She spent the last four hours in a carriage on the bumpy roads, returning yet again from visiting Factorium to give the latest notes to Hortensius and Sorantius. It was important, and up to her since she was the only one with a direct connection to Ky and Sophus, but she didn’t enjoy the bone-rattling trips.

“Empress,” Ramirus said, appearing almost out of thin air as she passed through the side entrance. “Llassar is here, asking to speak with you. He has the prince with him.”

Lucilla frowned. They hadn’t taken direct action with either Medb or Cormac yet, but it was coming soon. Llassar and Cormac being here meant something had changed, which was rarely a good thing.

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing that I know of. They just showed up a little bit ago, saying they needed to speak with you. It’s impossible to guess with Llassar, but the boy seems nervous.”

“Have them meet me in my office,” she said, waving the spymaster off and turning into her quarters.

There wasn’t time to wash the dust from the road off, but she could at least change into a fresh stola. She took her time, basking in the silence for a moment before diving back into the political mud. With a sigh, she steeled herself and left the peace of her quarters.

“Alright, let’s deal with this,” she said to Chief Protector Modius.

Llassar and the prince were already in her office when they arrived. Cormac was pacing nervously, stopping like a deer caught in the wild when she walked in. Llassar simply looked in her direction, unperturbed as always.

“Empress,” he said, not rising as many did when she entered a room.

It didn’t bother her. She didn’t stand on ceremony, and the Caledonian had proven himself as a supporter of the Empire enough times to skip formalities.

“I wanted to talk to you about my wife,” Cormac said, before Lucilla had time to sit down, dropping into a chair across from her desk. “Llassar told me what she’s been doing. I ... I’m still having trouble accepting it but, if he’s telling the truth ... I don’t want her to die. I know she’s been talking to people, fomenting unrest, which is treasonous. I know she needs to be stopped, but I beg you, there has to be a way to fix this without sacrificing her.”

She looked at him, calculating. The boy squirmed under her gaze. She hadn’t expected him to accept what was happening so easily, although she didn’t know what had been said between him and the Caledonian, nor had she guessed that he’d be so passionate about Medb’s survival. Not that she would let his pleading change what needed to be done.

“It’s more serious than you know,” she said, gesturing to Ramirus.

“We’ve been watching her closely,” the spymaster said. “And the preacher isn’t the only one she’s been talking to. She’s been all over town since winter ended, talking to anyone who’s made public statements criticizing the Empire. We may have cleared out the remaining insurrectionists, but there are still people not pleased with the Empress’s rule, how the Empire is run, or the Empire’s existence in the first place. She’s managed to find a good number of them and has had a lot of conversations with them. We haven’t overheard all of what they’ve said, but in the ones we did hear she said about the same things as she did with Vesnius. She’s pushed their prejudices and fears, telling them tales of planned foreign invasions and hatred for Rome by your father. She has gone well beyond fomenting unrest.”

“I don’t know what she’s said to you,” Lucilla said. “Although Llassar speaks highly of you, it’s clear she’s been playing you just as she is everyone else. I don’t know her end goal, but she’s causing chaos which we cannot allow to continue. Not in the middle of a war.”

“I ... I didn’t know,” Cormac said, almost on the verge of tears. “Please. I know she can be good; she’s just having difficulty transitioning from being a monarch in her own right to her position now. But that’s not all she is. She can be better, I know it.”

“You say that, even knowing she’s been manipulating you, convincing you to break your oaths, putting you on the brink of treason?” Lucilla asked, a little surprised he’d keep arguing for her even after accepting the truth of what was happening.

“I’m not a fool, Your Majesty,” Cormac said, calming himself and turning serious. “I know she’s been using me. With everything I now know about what she’s been doing, it’s impossible to not see it. But I also know the other moments we’ve spent together. Moments I’ve seen the real her come through, and she’s worth redeeming. Not simply because of how I feel about her, but because she has a lot to bring to the Empire. She’s clever, as clever as anyone in this room. Yes, she has ambition, but if that ambition could be turned in our favor, it would be a huge benefit.”

“I’m not sure that’s as convincing of an argument as you might want it to be,” Lucilla said. “Someone with the combination of intelligence and ambition that you describe isn’t someone that can be harnessed. Will she ever stop? It’s hard to believe. She’ll just keep trying, working to find a way to free herself and get back what she lost.”

“I know, but I have to hope she’ll come around. I ... I’ve never had a relationship like this before. It’s not just ... I love her. Maybe she doesn’t feel it and maybe she just managed to convince me of it as part of her plan, but in my heart, I hope she feels it a little too. All I know is, I don’t want her to die. Please.”

Lucilla regarded him pitifully before glancing at Llassar. The Caledonian met her gaze, face impassive, not giving a hint of what he thought. Ramirus, who could be equally stoic, wasn’t hiding his feelings this time. She knew what he would do in her position. She also knew what her duty told her to do. And yet.

“I’ll give Medb one chance. If she ceases her treasonous activity and gets in line, I will allow her to live,” Lucilla declared. “If she doesn’t, there will be no second chances. However, I don’t want to give her that chance, yet. She has done us a favor, in a way, pulling up the rotten portions of the city and pointing them out to us. Before we give her a chance, I want to first make sure we can scoop up all the people who’ve joined her in treason.”

“Maybe if I talk to her...” Cormac started to say until Lucilla cut him off.

“I’ve made my decision. You will say nothing to her, and when she’s given her chance, I’ll be the one to do it. I want to be clear; your actions were not that different from hers, although you were participating somewhat unwittingly. Your first duty is the one your father sent you to carry out, to ensure your people’s role as part of the Empire. Part of the Empire. If you cannot keep your responsibilities in mind and your personal feelings under control, I will send you back home with a warning to your father about your unreliable nature. This is your last chance, as well.”

Cormac hadn’t yet seemed to consider his own culpability for his actions. Maybe it was just the way of princes, unable to see their own faults, but she didn’t want him to leave without understanding he was in danger as well. Maybe not of execution, which would cause more problems than it would solve, but if his father heard of his actions and Cormac was returned to him, the repercussions would be severe. And Cormac knew it.

The boy slid back in his chair, crestfallen as the realization hit him. She felt for him, but they didn’t have time to coddle him. Now was the time for him to show he could handle his responsibility or decide this wasn’t the life for him.

Cormac bowed his head and said, “You’re right. If I’m being honest, it’s not all Medb’s doing. I’ve been blinded by my own selfishness. Of what I wanted, and not what I was entrusted to do.”

He paused for a moment, looking at his hands, before raising his head and looking back at her, meeting her gaze.

“Thank you, for giving me a chance to make it right. Llassar has tried to tell me I was failing, but I guess that I really didn’t listen until I almost messed up for good. I can’t change what I’ve done, but I’ll try to do better. I’ll fix this.”

It was a hard lesson for any man to learn, much less one so young. But he wasn’t a commoner. He was a prince, with the duties that entailed. He didn’t have the luxury of waiting to see if he got away with his mistakes.

“Good. I hope you do.”

Port of Kalb, Mouth of the Middle Sea

Admiral Valdar stood on the forecastle of his flagship Bellona, one foot propped on the railing as he surveyed the Carthaginian port of Kalb. The city’s crumbling stone walls looked back at him, a sad testimony to what they once had been. They had been strong and proud, holding off pirates and attacks for generations, but they were not made to withstand months of cannon fire. To preserve ammunition, he had kept the bombardment slow but steady, never giving the city a moment’s peace.

For several months, the blockading fleet had gripped Kalb tightly, strangling the flow of supplies and reinforcements from the Middle Sea. It was important, but it was tedious, especially as the number of Carthaginian ships that attempted to sally out to meet him or run his blockade slowly dwindled. He was impatient to continue with his mission, but he couldn’t until he took this port and secured his supply lines.

“Sail ho!” came the lookout’s cry. “Ships approaching from the east!”

Valdar raised his spyglass, smiling as he recognized the lean profiles of Britannian caravels tacking toward him. He knew they were about due to roll off the docks, but he hadn’t expected them quite this soon. With these additions, his ship count would be brought up to eighteen, which gave him many more options.

“Signal from the Branwen,” the signal officer said, looking through his own spyglass at the flags raising and lowering on board the lead ship sailing toward them. “She bears resupply of food and gunpowder and two hundred legionaries, with the Empress’s compliments.”

“Excellent,” Valdar said, lowering his spyglass. “Signal the fleet. All captains are to repair aboard with due haste for a consultation and preparation.”

This is what he’d been waiting for. He was more than ecstatic that the Empress had heard him out and decided to send the legionaries he’d requested. With the port blockaded and the armies to the north too engaged in the land war to respond, the port was weakened, and should be easy pickings for rifle-armed legionaries.

Valdar paced his cabin, waiting for his captains to arrive. After months, this was what he’d been waiting for, and he was impatient to get started. Finally, the last of the captains arrived, taking their places in the now much too cramped cabin.

“Before we get started, I have some bad news from the north,” he began. “Port Invictus has fallen and the Legate is dead.”

Murmurs rippled through the room as the captains reacted to the news.

Valdar raised a hand for silence. “As bad as that is, everything isn’t lost. The Consul is marching south with his legions to assault the main Carthaginian port on the continent.”

“What are we going to do about it?” Einar, captain of the Aquila asked. “Shouldn’t we support that attack? I understand the value of this port and blocking Carthaginian shipping out of the Middle Sea is crucial, but until we shut down their traffic inside the sea, our armies are vulnerable.”

“I agree,” Valdar said. “Which is why we’re going to do both. I’m sending our five most experienced crews, not counting the Bellona, to blockade their shipping and support the Consul’s attack. The Aquila, Tyrfing, Seadreki, Bolvastr, and Europa will be under your overall command, Einar. You’re to blockade the port and patrol the nearby coast as best you can, sinking any ship you find inside the Middle Sea. Assume anything floating is Carthaginian. You’re also to support the Consul and answer directly to him. I assume he’ll want you to shell the city at some point, so be prepared. You’ll have to work with him for supplies, since the coast between here and there will still be open waters and I don’t trust any of our supply ships to make it that far. Not until we finish sinking all their ships. Is that good enough?”

“Yes, Admiral,” Einar said, sounding both surprised his recommendation was taken so quickly and excited he was getting his first independent command.

“Good. As for the rest of us, we are going to prepare to take the port. I’m not sure what kind of leadership the Empress sent along with the two hundred centurions, but it’s likely a fairly low-level commander in charge of them. I want to spend a few days discussing the assault with him and, possibly, take a ship and the legionaries back out to Oceanus to find a bare strip of Hispania to do a few test runs before we take the port for real. Until then, let’s keep the city busy. I want to increase bombardment, focusing on the western and eastern portions of the port, leaving the center corridor and the docks themselves for our men to move through. Let’s turn the rest of it into rubble. I want them too busy to notice us doing anything else. You’ll also be given your responsibilities for the landings that I want you to read over and work with your crews to prepare for. Use the bombardment as an opportunity for target practice, especially you men on the newly arrived ships. When we start our land assault, I don’t want cannon balls landing on our troops. If you have questions, hold them until you’ve gotten your assignments.”