The Non-History of Mauretania: A Europa Barbarorum AAR

[Ghaust the Moor]

And just cause I reallly want to see what happens next, I'll post a second time :D

[MisterFred]

Lol, I'll try and get the next section up on Saturday.

[Ghaust the Moor]

Sweeet

[MisterFred]

by Tarkun of Siga

[Ch.13]

The sack of Atiqa, so lightly defended even our ladder-assault teams took few casualties, was very organized. The Army of Mauretania had experience, of course. Stenu had learned after Kirtan that the advance planning he had worked on before Ippone was crucial. Stenu was a master of logistics, and this included the profitable capture of a city down to the careful details.


[The Army still hasn't had to deal with rationing, either. Well-supplied or no trait the whole campaign.]

Speed was key. Don't give the citizens time to react, to hide valuables or conceal themselves in nooks and crannies. Every unit in the army had its careful instructions, rules were laid down, loot gathered centrally and carefully accounted for. I ransacked the temple of Astarte, jewel and pride of the city, equal to or even greater than the great temples of Carthage. We knew in advance Atiqa was poorly defended. The day after we moved within sight of the city walls, our men held them. My men were the first deep into the city, galloping faster than local resistance could pop up. We took over the temple complex itself immediately, as foot units followed us slowly through the city, killing anyone who looked at them funny and capturing the rest. A great slave-camp was already being constructed outside the city walls. No one would sleep tonight. The citizens would be hiding in fear, fighting and dying, or wondering what awaited them as they were held like livestock. A third of the army, like myself, had special missions, assignments to race to important locations before anything could be moved. Another third guarded the army's camp, responded to alarms and resistance, and held the gates and the great port to prevent the escape of valuable chattel. The last third rounded up everyone they could find, and sent them to the great pen. Unless they were sick, of course. Can't have disease spread before the people are sold. Sick people were ignored or killed. So now you know. If your city is sacked, defecate on yourself, dot your face with red dye, and hold a long kitchen knife when they come for you. Not worth anything, too much trouble. Good chance they leave you alone.

If you're a priest, throw away your robes, do whatever you can to cover holy marks and get rid of symbols, and hide away from the temple. Don't stay inside saying prayers and invoking divine aid. When the enemy do come in, don't scream curses at them, don't let them drag you all around the complex while they search the place, don't wonder why they're taking you room from room as you give away the location of holy relics (preferably fashioned out of gold) with nervous glances at the places you've put them. Don't pull your ceremonial knife and go for one of the soldiers. They're expecting it, especially if you're old and want to prove yourself to your god before you die.

By the time dusk had fallen, half of Astarte's priests were dead, the more prudent half were silently cursing me and my men, and we'd fully loaded our war mounts with silver, gold, and other treasure from Astarte's vast reserve of offerings accumulated over the decades. Our remounts were already arriving, and I continued to organize their loading, with more silver, statuettes, rare books, and other valuables. We'd searched all of the buildings, gotten everything we could out of the priests, and strategically piled ordinary cloth, reeds, and other flammables by mid-morning the next day. Well the men had. I'd slept from dawn until we were ready to leave, since I would be busy all day. My men and I rode out of the complex on our tired horses, just as exhausted as they were. As we left, we set fire to the buildings. The temple's thick stone walls meant the fire probably wouldn't spread to the rest of the city, and the ruin of the interior could be searched a few days later for hidden caches of money melted down and exposed by the ruined masonry. Also, Stenu believed destroying the temple would blind the foreign god and prevent them from seeing what we did to its people. The surviving priests had their foreheads marked with mud and were released. Even Stenu wasn't so blasphemous as to kill or enslave them when they didn't resist.

My men and I hadn't pocketed even a coin from the temple grounds, they were too disciplined and I was too vigilant for that. There was no need to worry. We were chosen for the job because we were men of importance back home, wealthy enough to afford our own kit and horses when the army marched east. And Stenu was wise enough to save the best for us when he divided shares for the men. I expected we'd each receive something like a gem, concealable yet frequently more valuable than pure gold.

Most of the streets of the Atiqa, a city that would be known around the world if it wasn't hidden in the shadow of Carthage, were eerily empty as we rode past. Oh, a few held signs of life. In one alleyway, two wretched things saw me looking at their hiding place and ran, trying not to scream and alert the rest of my men. I was too tired to care, watching only to keep from being ambushed. Down another avenue, a trail of dead women and old men, most slain by javelins, led away from the bodies of two Maure warriors and debris from the rooftops above. Those inside the buildings had no doubt been massacred. Over a short wall that hid a courtyard from men on foot, but not those who were mounted, my men caught sight of an rape in progress and cheerfully insulted the genitals of all involved, but I frowned. Dangerous, that, if you're alone. Rape was forbidden in the slave-camps, where mass resistance would necessitate killing too many slaves intended for sale. Together as a unit, the men had strict orders to gather the population and keep the city under control. The only time for it was when the men should be sleeping, so they went off alone. Who knows if a brother or a husband or a mother is hiding and slips a knife into you.

When we were outside of the city walls, I directed my men to get some sleep, and left with two bodyguards to find Stenu and confer with him. Neither of us thought it wise to remain at Atiqa for long, and most of the officers would be needed to oversee the sale of as much of the population as possible. I found him overseeing a review of the quality of the wagons and carts confiscated from the city, of all things. Stenu was obsessed with the efficiency of our baggage train.

"Sir."

"Bah. Shoddy construction." Stenu stood up from examining the underside of a cart. "It can pull my tent and stakes, some wounded men who might recover I suppose. It'll never bear a full load of grain, let alone coin. You're all done in the city then?"

"Mounts and remounts loaded with temple offerings and other treasure. Then the remounts were loaded again before we rode out of there."

"And you remembered to put our Her eyes?" In addition to burning the complex itself, we'd been under strict orders gouge out the eyes of the god's idols, so that she couldn't get a good look at us and curse us all.

"Yes, sir. All of them. More than a few of the priests tried to rush us after we started that, but we suffered no casualties."

Stenu nodded. "Even Her priests know we've robbed Her of Her power, at least for a little while. Good. Listen, I know you're tired, but I want you at the port today, organizing the merchants and sending them to the camps so our factors can start sales as soon as possible. I'm worried the Carthaginians might send their fleet to chase the traders away before we get their coin."

I'd expected as much. "What about the port itself?"

"I took stock of it yesterday. Excellent natural features. Not worth the time to tear down. But there are shipyards and military docks, make sure those are destroyed thoroughly. Especially the workmens' tools. Its always hard to replace good tools."

"Yes, sir." I turned to start riding towards the port, not looking forward to making my Greek clear and intelligible on a few hours of sleep.

"Tarkun, one last thing."

"Sir?"

"Stay sharp. We've only lost a few hundred men so far, and I want things to stay smooth."

"Sir." Astonishing, really. So many people, doing so much, and in all our vast army of tens of thousands, only a few hundred killed by resistors. Well not so astonishing. I'd choose slavery in a foreign land over certain death.

Over the next few days I worked amicably with the slave traders who came to town, negotiating a little, keeping the slaves from rioting (food and clean water is key), but spending most of my time handling the logistics of moving thousands of people from point A to ships and persons A,B,C,D, etc., without too many mistakes in who goes where. In a situation like this, the merchants are helpful and easy to work with. The best of them were as well-informed about the progress of the war as Stenu and I were, better perhaps, given the speed of sea travel. Waiting not far off the coast for our army to take the port, they organized themselves before I even arrived. The rest heard of our approach to the city a little later, or smelled opportunity as word of Atiqa's capture spread. Taken altogether, the traders represented a massive effort of men and money, nearly as organized as a second army.

All made possible by incredible profits, of course. The traders purchased slaves worth many times the few coins they paid for each one, and their risk and planning would lead to amazing profits selling to the slower, established dealers in the large markets in Bocchoris, Massilia, and Capua. A few traders might go around the major middlemen in the large markets and sell directly to the final owners in the small markets all around the Mediterranean. None of which the Army of Mauretania really cared about. Prices are always good when an army sacks a major city because there's only so much coin the traders can bring before the army has to leave. Our goal isn't to get a good price for each slave, its to ensure the efficient transfer of every single coin the slave traders can scrounge up before we march west. We have so much inventory there's no pressure to make sure each sale counts. The traders share our interests, and it turns out to be a fairly simple system. Those who arrive first and bring the most coin fill their ships with the best slaves. Those who arrive a little later or with a little less coin have to take the second best. And so on and so forth. In the end, all the traders who show up fill their ships completely, and we get all the money they can put together. Haggling is rarely an issue.

My job was simply to keep the process moving as quickly as possible, and make sure the coin gets into Stenu's hands. In the Army of Mauretania, now a disciplined and veteran force, this was not a difficult job. Still, I threw myself into the work, constantly arranging provisions for the captives, confrencing with Greek traders, Sardinian traders, Phoenician traders, Roman traders, everyone people that sailed the western Mediterranean. When I couldn't find reason to do that I watched over the destruction of Atiqa's military port. Every day we were in Atiqa I found ways to work until I was ready to drop from exhaustion, then prayed I could get some restful sleep.The screams and the blood in the streets I could deal with, that I am used to from battle. Its the men's quiet sobbing that I work hard to avoid, that and the empty look on the face of the girl in the courtyard.






[I gutted the city, save the port and native barracks. If a city has a famous natural harbor, I don't destroy ports for RP purposes (e.g. Syracuse, Atiqa). If there's a port but its not historically known for its natural advantages, I'll destroy it in a sack (e.g. Messana, Sparta). For RP reasons I also don't destroy native barracks in a faction's homeland or long-held regions, or foreign barracks in long-held or historical-tie non-homeland regions.]


[Finances after the sack of Atiqa. The money from its enslavement happened the turn before the screenshot, most of the "starting treasury" came from that. Note the construction "profits."

***

[Menibidos of Croton]

Menibidos relaxed on the deck of his ship, enjoying the cool sea air now that land was visible again, off in the distance to starboard. After watering in Lilybaum, a city bursting with trade, industry, and riches taken from Sicilian Greeks and Sikels in the war against Syracuse, Menibidos and his crew had set sail for the coast of Africa. Menibidos, a Greek from Italia, didn't give a second thought to putting into a city currently at war with the Greek cities in Sicily. The cosmopolitan culture of the high seas, encouraged and in part constructed by Carthage in the western Mediterranean, made Menibidos feel safe in a well-ordered port. At sea, sister-ships and a well-paid compliment of archers made him feel safe. Except when he was out of land. No one liked sailing out of sight of land, but it was necessary to get from Sicily to Africa, and Menibidos intended to personally make one more great trading run, pulling most of his non-land wealth out of Croton while the Romans finished the messy business of conquering and reorganizing Bruttium. Eurymines had gotten a message to him that the Moera were marching towards the Mediterranean from Numidia, and slaves would be available wherever they struck, or around Siga when Carthage reinforced Hamalcar and began driving the Maure out of the countryside there. Selling that stock in Iberia or the Baleares would provide more than enough funds to purchase wines, tin, or Celtic ironwork from Roman-controlled Gaul or Massilia, followed by a triumphant return to Magna Graecia.

When four warships, one of them a quinquereme, appeared in the distance, the crew tensed until they saw Phoenician gods painted on the sides of the ships. The Carthaginian navy was well-liked among traders in the western Mediterranean for its frequent actions against pirates. In fact, Menibidos relaxed again until the warships drew next his ship and its sister-ships and demanded to search them. His broken Phoenician was enough to explain they were simple traders, not carrying enough oars for piracy, which should be obvious. When the Carthaginians demanded to see the hold, he began to worry. The naval officer, wiser than his young age, stayed silent after seeing the cheap grain, barrels of water, and chests of coin. He took a small handful of silver, which Menibidos assumed was the reason for the inspection, and returned to the deck. Before the Greek captain could react, Celtic marines were swarming over his ship and two Carthaginians were dragging him onto the quinquereme.

In Carthage he saw Menibidos saw a sight he'd previously discounted as rumor, the great circular port of the Carthaginian fleet. Distracted by the disaster that had befallen him, its extensive construction and ingenious design was lost on Menibidos, who would have been fascinated not long ago. Accused before the gods of slave-trading, Menibidos found no humor in the irony of it all. His family had first made its fortune selling Italian slaves from towns resisting Pyrrhus' control of Calabria to the Carthaginians in Lilybaum. But the great metropolis took a dim view of the sale of people from its sister-city to the northwest. Thrown upon the questionable mercy of Baal, Menibidos saw the other captains in his convoy sacrificed to the Carthaginian gods to prevent their retribution for the city's failures in battle and to beg for their aid. He cried with genuine relief and emotion when the officiating priest declared him innocent before the eyes of the gods and he was let out onto the streets of Carthage, a free man.

Paranoia, mistrust, and secrecy had saved his life. Menibidos always kept his few gold coins secreted on his person, and the day his ship had been boarded was no exception. It had been enough to corrupt a priest of Baal. Menibidos made straight for the port. He had no hope to save his ship, but there were always the grain-traders, those stodgy safe types who made a measured profit taking food from one end of the world to the other. An experienced hand might find work on one headed for Italia, and home.

***

[Tarkun of Siga]

The baggage train loaded with coin, provisions, and the other spoils of Atiqa, the Army of Mauretania marched west along the good coastal roads. Stenu intended to retake Ippone, and fortify that port against Carthaginian retaliation by land westward, while bringing the whole territory between the city and Siga under Maure control, a strategy I agreed with in principle, although I worried about this news Hamalcar had occupied Siga. With a small army he could blockade trade and prevent the Army of Mauretania's resupply, but do little to change the essential Maure character of the countryside. My family's possessions far enough from the city to the south they should be safe - if Hamalcar was not reinforced. Stenu was certain Lina Sagun would send an army to retake the city from Atlantic Maure, while I wondered why he didn't speak of Ti Sagun.

In any case, there was an urgent need to secure our plunder and reinforce the army, for which we needed a safe base of operations, and Ippone was the nearest possible choice. The Army of Mauretania didn't miss a step, marching west with all the alacrity and determination it had showed throughout the campaign. There was hardly a grumble about our reduced numbers. After Adrumento, every surviving man was an experienced veteran with face-to-face time with the enemy, not just pushing in the back ranks. Twenty-seven thousand Maure marched on the dusty roads of Africa, but after only a week an approaching force was spotted by the scouts. To a man, the men were ready to defend our plunder in another tough fight with Carthaginian professionals, but reports soon came in that it wasn't a Carthaginian army, it was a Numidian force.



Recruited by the Numidian nobility loyal to Carthage, which was most of them, as they respected the power of that great city in a long war, and funded by Bomilcar, the Numidian army was the mobilization of nearly every patriot in the province. Although between Milkpilles' actions a decade earlier, our own destructive march through pasture lands, and the nobles' reluctance to go to war personally, it soon became apparent the enemy had brought little cavalry. Estimated at slightly fewer in number, Stenu and I both agreed to continue marching, although we could have to ensure the army's herds and baggage train was well guarded and on the opposite side of the column from the Numidian army. If they wanted to guard the south road into Numidia, fine. If they wanted to give battle to seek revenge and prevent us from reaching Ippone, well, Stenu and I agreed the Numidian masses would prove little threat to experienced Maure warriors, no matter how well-armed Bomilcar had made them. Our only serious concern was the large number of elephants they brought to the battle. But Maure are not unfamiliar with the great beasts, and even our villagers know how to scare off the beasts with skilled use of the javelin.



As the two forces closed upon each other, it was clear the Numidians wished to give battle. After heavily fortifying a camp to protect the baggage train, we obliged. Stenu ordered the army into a loose skirmishing formation, a reasonable precaution against elephants and the Numidian style of battle. I was worried about how well the men would adapt to a skirmishing pattern after years of preparing for and fighting close-order battles against Carthaginian professionals, but it was hard to argue against nearly fifty elephants. Stenu encouraged the army with a rousing speech, which held more or less the same meaning after it was passed down the lines from unit to unit.





The Numidians sent in half of their great beasts at the start of battle to disrupt our formation, presumably so their great mass of mobile missle troops could gain the advantage in the inevitable skirmishes. The rest of their elephants were protected behind their lines. The first rush did little damage, as javelins drove the beasts back or killed them out right, and fleet-footed Maure are not easily caught by the beasts. A general exchange of missiles developed along the line, a battle for which Maure are well-suited, although so too are Numidians. It began to be clear that this sort of fight showed none of our advantages, and some of our men moved out of position as they followed orders to prioritize attacks on the fearsome elephants.





With the elephants in front of the army killed or driven off, our right advanced forward to meet the Numidians in close combat, where Maure swordsmanship should prove stronger than the Numidian line. The left, with the advantage of height, continued to skirmish. Once locked into melee, the Numidians commited their elephant reserves, exposing them to our fire, but sending them to our right flank as we pressed the Numidian line back. To the dismay of Stenu and I, they immediately disrupted our lines with their bulk, giving the Numidian infantry time to press forward and attack our broken formations. When the beasts broke through our front lines and turned north, towards our left flank, Stenu led a daring cavalry charge that killed two of the beasts and retreated before they could turn and gore more than a few of our horses.







The chaos created by the elephants had disrupted our right flank to the extent that a unit of unarmored Numidian spearmen, fighting in the style of the Garamites, penetrated all the way to the rear of our formation and met our reserves. Alarmed at the audacity and ferocity of the Numidian attack, Stenu ordered our cavalry, circling away from the elephants, to break the enemy unit before the rift in our line became permanent. Swept by the flow of the battle, Stenu himself, founder and leader of all Mauretania, head of the Army of Mauretania, led the charge, perfectly executed into the back of the enemy force. The enemy speamen were crushed, but the men said later that single Numidian had turned and cowered when he heard the onrushing cavalry. Who knows what the unexpected action did? Maybe the spearpoint swept across a horse's sensitive nose, maybe one of the mounts, however unlikely, simply tripped over a Numidian. All I recall is the surreal sense of unreality sweep over me as my own band of horse rode past the broken Numidians, and saw one lying next to Stenu, both bodies trapped by his fallen horse and trampled by the charging cavalry.


[Stenu, as the lances lowered, seconds before being trampled to death. Notice the 58 healthy bodyguards and the completely exposed backs of the enemy. The general's death movie popped up the very instant the lines began to touch. I know, because I was fully zoomed in expecting to get a nice charge screenshot. It was one of the most shocking general deaths I've ever had in Total War games, bested only by the first time I lost a general to a ballista shot before combat even began and the first time I lost one falling off a wall when he was 40 ranks away from the enemy.]

Spooked by the elephants, the center of our lines fled north to join the massed left flank, as I struggled to rally our beleaguered right. The battlefield was too chaotic for word of Stenu's death to spread quickly, as beloved as he was by the men it could have lead to a total rout, but the isolated and embattled flank was facing a large part of the Numidian army. I struggled to hold them in place, as the gathered men on the left drove off or killed the last of the elephants on the field and charged into the center of the disorganized Numidian mass to relieve us.







My own charge into the back of a Numidian spear unit caused an unexpected flutter in my stomach, but they were broken and with the bulk of the enemy rushing to meet the Maure charging from above, the right was temporarily relieved. I directed my own men to try and break their lines at the point of farthest penetration by the left as the exhausted infantry of the right slowly followed.



But the Numidians wouldn't break. They stayed and fought, careless of their own lives. Bit by bit, they were destroying the Army of Mauretania. The exhausted troops on the right simply couldn't find the will to charge uphill into the ranks of the enemy, no matter how desperately the encircled left needed the relief. When I saw one of the flanks begin to crumble, I was forced to circle the battlefield and order a general retreat back to camp, the exhausted and decimated cavalry doing its utmost to keep the fanatical Numidian army from running the retreating troops down.

By some miracle, we made it back to camp. The Numidians finally decided to look after their numberless wounded. We were forced to leave ours. I gathered the surviving officers and organized the army's camp within a matter of hours. Leaving the grain wagons and taking only the coin, treasure, and a few herds, we retreated east at speed, the Army of Numidia only a third of the number it had been after marching triumphantly out of Atiqa. The speed was not only the result of the fear of the Numidian army close on our heels. We had to make Atiqa before the citizens reorganized it and put together a force to man the gates, or we would all die of starvation or violence on the rich, fertile plains of Phoenician Africa.









On forced marching and little sleep we made the western gate of Atiqa in time, and hid within the walls of the city, taking over the poorest, but least damaged, quarter of the city. There was no sack this time, just a military area guarded from within the city as well as without. The few remaining residents hid in the abandoned alleyways of the rest of the town. Our position was dire. Total destruction by the victorious Numidians to the west had been avoided only because the efficiency and totality of the sack of Atiqa had prevented any organization of the city as the Army of Mauretania marched west. Posessing no ships, the sea was also closed to us. The only option open was south, crossing the few rivers and disappearing behind the coastal range. But I well knew that at any time, Carthage could move its garrison to intercept and probably crush us. It was unlikely, if only because the Carthage is so unwilling to leave its walls completely undefended for any reason or potential gain. But it was possible. The only advantage we had was the vast store of treasure available to us.

As I consolidated permanent control of the remnants of the Army of Mauretania, not difficult to do as I had been Stenu's second-in-command, I held mourning to a minimum and sent out riders into the countryside and talked to ship captains. Quicker than I would have believed possible, a force of almost fourteen thousand mercenaries had been assembled, as many as I dared try and control with the men I had left to me, and I negotiated with their captains.

The negotiations went quickly, both because I probably agreed to larger upfront sums than the Carthaginians typically paid in my ignorance, and with the evidence of the potential for plunder surrounding the Army of Mauretania in the form of the shattered city of Atiqa. A little over half of the mercenaries were Maure, most from around Siga, who had organized themselves after Hamalcar took the city. They claimed to have been moving east to find us, but I knew better. They'd been planning to hire themselves to Carthage, but were just as delighted to take money from their own people. The traitorous dogs made me sick, but I believed they'd fight for us. Balearic slingers were also collected, coming north after disembarking at Ippone and marching east behind the coastal range towards Carthage. Instead, my riders found them and they hired with us, expecting Carthage to fight a defensive war with little hope of plunder. Finally, exotic Ligurians from the far north of Italia put into the port of Atiqa, expecting to be hired for the defense of the city but finding us here instead.



Carthage's own reputation as a paymaster and call for forces might just save the Army of Mauretania. With my own loyal veterans guarding the baggage train and its vast reserve of coin, we marched south immediately. We had to turn west again, hopefully hidden by the coastal range from the Numidians, before Carthage could block the bridges and trap us. Only the mercenaries complained at the rapid movement. For the true men of Mauretania, what was a few hundred more miles?

[MisterFred]

I hope the atrocities didn't turn off any readers. The Maure-Carthaginian war is a particularly ugly, brutish one and I decided not to whitewash it. I know most people prefer humorous AARs, but I've never been very good at consistently writing humor, so I generally don't go in that direction.

[Ghaust the Moor]

Oh it defently didn't put me off. I find it rather refreshing that someone buts an AAR into a more realistic and Grimdark atmosphere. Great work

[Brave Brave Sir Robin]

Awesome work! Just started reading. I especially enjoy the battle against those Numidians who were obviously veterans of god knows how many wars.

[Tanit]

Just started reading, awesome work here. The Mauretani were on the list for potential EB2 factions, but they didn't quite get in. Love seeing my Africans duking it out in such an awesome story!

[gamegeek2]

That was simply amazing.

There's not a whole lot more I can say than that - it was just incredible.

[One question though: Why not hire some Gauls? Seem like they might be more trustworthy than traitors]

[MisterFred]

Thank you Tanit! For your comment and your hard work on North Africa.

Gamegeek: At the time I hired the mercenaries I was thinking that most mercenaries would be unable or unwilling to fight for Mauretania (uncertain whether they'll win, no historic recruiting connections, no ability to transport themselves to the region). Remember the mercenary recruitment areas are really supposed to be more Carthage's available mercenaries. So I figured I'd limit myself only to African mercs or notable sea-faring cultures. This canceled out the phalanx and possibly thureophoroi, as I assumed they were a heavier, more eastern med style of Greek warrior. And it took the Gauls out of play (uncertain transport to Africa if Carthage isn't helping). I figured Tarkun would be leery of Iberian mercenaries because of the cold war between the Lusotann and Mauretania, although they could just as easily been an independent tribe. Eventually I went with the troops I did because I figured speed, maneuverability, and "looks like they'd be fast on a march" were priorities. (I mis-remembered the Ligurians as "fast-moving" troops.)

[MisterFred]

by Ti Sagun

[Ch. 14]

An unpleasant bit of gas had awoken me one night when I heard light footsteps outside the door to my chamber in the residence I had taken over. I grabbed my blanket, remaining barefoot and therefore quieter than the intruder, and wound it as tightly as it would go. Hiding by my door, I pounced as soon as the intruder brushed aside the curtain to my room and entered the chamber. I looped the blanket around him in an attempt to tie up his arms and pulled the man to the floor. He cut through the blanket and into my side before I wrested his long knife away from him, plunged it into his breast, and staggered out the door. I tripped and fell into the shallow courtyard pool, and lay there in the water, bleeding, until my residence's guards found me in the commotion. The intruder was a Numidian, but paid in gold, which means anyone from just about anywhere could have sent him. I resolved to complain less when the cook used suspect meat in the future.

In the morning I feigned a lack of concern and had breakfast at my usual time, considering the day ahead of me. I had planned to visit a village outside of Sala as part of my efforts to push the new recruitment drive. By the time I was ready to leave the city, my bodyguard volunteered to double their watches, which was appreciated as it got rid of the need to demand an increase myself.

The ride south was unpleasant, as it gave me plenty of time to consider who wanted me dead. Certainly, Carthaginian senators themselves were a possibility. It was, after all, I who raised the Army of Mauretania, who led Atlantic Maure, who had unified a people. Of course, the most likely Carthaginian to consider me a personal problem was Hamalcar, the old warhorse who had locked himself tight in Siga. A tiny Carthaginian force had scouted one of the inland passes into Atlantic Maure before escaping to report back. If Hamalcar expected reinforcements or had some crazy idea to send an officer with a small army to invade, what better way to prevent an organized response than by assassinating the head of Atlantic Maure?

If that were the case, I intended to make sure Hamalcar was sorely disappointed. After a few years of embargo, trade between Ibera and Mauretania was booming, creating profits like never before. Years ago Carthage had suppressed piracy in the western Mediterranean, and with the loss of Bocchoris and the Sicilian war, their fleet had no opportunity to engage in seizures. With the government finally solvent, and a new generation of boys entering manhood, I intended to once again raise the Maure. To begin a second army that would march east, retake Siga, and reinforce Stenu's Army of Mauretania.

Already men from the southern reaches of Mauretania, land from the edge of Atlantic Maure and even just beyond the Atlas mountains that was incorporated into the state only because of my insistence on the southern campaign, were arriving in Sala. These grown men, some even in their thirties, would form a stabilizing core around which the young generation of the rest of Atlantic Maure could rally.

What about the Iberians? There may be many Lusotann that blamed me for the loss of Mauretania as a client kingdom as a result of Lina's plot with Stenu that forced independence. The Lusotann proper had never recovered from the total loss of their armies in Africa and the invasion of the green isle by the mad king Ambron. Every year the true power in their confederation of tribes moved farther and farther to the north, with the Celticized Iberians who hated Rome and longed to punish the tribes on the peninsula that had submitted to Latin rule. But for the same reasons, Mauretania was a forgotten land for most Lusotann. And anyone seeking revenge for the killing of Cardocca or the maiming of Famo probably knew Lina held responsibility for those deeds, not I. My dear wife had practically made theatre of the insanity.

I tried not to eye the swords of the recruits I reviewed. Or look for bulges in the clothes of local leaders I praised for their efforts in supporting the new levy. I think I managed. My presence wasn't strictly necessary. Both the south and Sala itself were well on their way to meeting their quotas. But stepping in to congratulate folks and promote Mauretania never hurt... and it helped prevent problems from developing in the future. I'd never been a party-goer before I met Lina. But she taught me that simple interaction, like sharing a drink with the village chief, can make more difference in getting a man to support you than all the reasoned self-interest in the world. Strange, that.

My wife sees the world differently than I do, I know that. How differently, was the question. Could our courtship have been little more than me sharing a drink with Chief Whatshisname? No, impossible. But they say women get revenge with poison or hired knives. I suspect Lina's had people killed before. Impossible. Were my politics right? She got Stenu to declare independence and forced it on me when I didn't support it. Madness, it didn't matter. We'd disagreed before, we would again. Our love was stronger that mere politics. No doubt of it.



***

[Lina Utrana Sagun]

"Haroon, dear, so good of you to come this morning!" I leaned forward and kissed the grizzled Lusotann on the cheek after waving for the girl to bring some fruit.

Haroon grunted. Although in acknowledgement that he was punctual after I'd ordered him to report this morning or out of discomfort in being welcomed by someone who was rumored to have had harsh dealings with other Lusotann in the past, I couldn't tell you.

Nasty things, rumors.

"Is everything provided for in your home? I want to feel as if Lixus herself welcomes you with open arms."

"Herself? I'd rather she welcome me with open legs, then." Men. I put my hand to my mouth in fake-shock and looked at Haroon with disapproval. "Improper I know. Terribly crude of me. Rough Iberian nature, all that. This is horse-time, man-time. You hired me for a job. I want to do the job. You want me to become attached to the house of Sagun, be blunt with me. I don't do platitudes if the situation doesn't demand it."

"House of Utrana, actually. NOT Sagun." I thought fast. Haroon had seemed properly charmed by the full force of the dance of hospitality only the day before yesterday, when I'd welcomed him off the docks and gave him time to settle in. Well, I wanted him happy and efficient.

"You are Ti Sagun's wife, are you not?" Haroon seemed genuinely confused.

"Of course. But I am also the matriarch of the Utrana clan. Tribe, extended family, whatever you want to call it. I'm hiring you in that capacity. To train Utrana's boys."

"Hrm." This seemed a tad unexpected to Haroon. Perhaps I needed a new scribe for letters written in Lusotann. I could only speak the language. "Does the governor know about this?"

"No. I haven't told him. In case it's not clear, you're working for me, not him." This seemed to annoy Haroon for some reason. I would have expected the opposite. Haroon was supposed to be an old warrior, a liege man from a family that had been liege men from the times when Lusotann was small. And poor. As a royalist, and a Lusotann, he twice poorly positioned. The Celt-Iberians led the coalition these days. There was even talk of moving the capitol up north. The Lusotann anti-royalists, who'd won out over the royalists only to find their tribe as a whole struggling to maintain primacy, needed more resources to maintain their prominence and needed less annoying nagging about supporting Ambron across the seas.

So Haroon found his small holdings confiscated on a technicality and was no longer a man of power in Oxtraca. But he was still an old warrior. And loyal to a fault, or at least had been once. The perfect man to train the sons of Utrana.

"Very well. I can train these Utrana boys to fight together, put together a retinue for them. You'll need recruits as well, if they're to have a proper guard. Can't have 'em all in the family or you can't send one son... cousin, whatever, in town and send the other across the river. I know the kind of men you'll want to look for, and I'm sure you have people that can do the looking."

I nodded, once. Simple communication for a simple man. Direct. Boring.

"Good. Today I intend to look over your horses and the area I'll use for training. Then I'll probably have to see about buying more and better horses. You want to create a royal guard, you'll need the best."

"Not a royal guard, Haroon. An honor guard." The girl finally came with fruit. I waved her way.

"Same thing."

"No. This is important. It is not a royal guard, Haroon." He narrowed his eyes and examined me closely. Of course I was asking him to train a royal guard. But the image of authority comes before the actual assumption.

"Very well. Tomorrow I will buy the paints, and prepare the sacrifices. If you have any house gods, send one who can speak for them to me that morning, lest they go un-honored."

"Paints?" Now I was confused.

"Yes," Haroon adopted the sort of tone some men use when talking to women of military matters. "The men will be bound together and strengthened for battle with ritual and the blessing of the gods. The horses will be marked, and tied to each rider in spirit even as they are tied together in training. The Lusotann have long known the importance of this. It binds the bodyguard together with sacred oath, that the importance of one man becomes the importance of them all."

And thus allows the patsies to feel as if they are defending themselves when they save the life of the master. Very well, silver for paints seems like a bargain. I looked enlightened to signal Haroon I took him seriously and that he should move on.

"The day after tomorrow, I will begin the training. It will be hard, physically. So send important weaklings later, so that those who have been hardened can blame their weakness on newness, and not inherent disability. I will work with them on off days, in secret, to show them how to survive in battle without shaming themselves."

It took me awhile to work that out, but when I did I gained a level of respect for Haroon. He just might work out. We talked for a few more minutes, arranging expenses and other details. Equipping an Utrana cavalry force was going to be hideously expensive. Still, the best investments often are in the beginning.

In the evening I went to see Sanion. He was still a boy, but thought himself a man already. Sanion was the first Utrana I intended to send to Haroon for training. He was strong physically and he wanted to prove himself in battle. Not the brightest tool in the shed, nor the straightest arrow, but he was loyal.

I walked into his home in the city, a useful set of rooms we Utrana use when coming in from the countryside. I greeted Sanion but none of the other young men pouring from a jug of wine. He got the hint after only a few minutes of waiting and got them to move outside.

"Why are you... I mean I didn't... you haven't come here before."

I let Sanion wonder if I'd seen the young woman who'd hid in a storage room and reminded myself to keep my voice low. "You're not going to be a member of Melman's bodyguard." Deliver the blow first, settle that, then the important matters can be dealt with.

"What? But..." I shook my head to cut off Sanion's pleading. He persisted anyway. "But I've always supported the family." This was true. Sanion had been one of the boys that helped burn Cardocca's ship to prevent the outgoing Lusotann administration from escaping Lixus.

"Oh, dear, this isn't a punishment." I flashed a reassuring smile to drive the point home, pretending to be shocked that Sanion might think it was. "It's just that you're better than that. I wanted a good man around Melman, but any number of people can do that. I've hired a Lusotann chieftan to see about putting together an elite force, and I'm sending you to him in a few days."

The importance of this didn't seem to sink in. "But I've already been training hard. You said I might be an officer in the new army being raised, and..."

He didn't want to give up a title? The boy was smarter than I thought. "Sanion, dear, this is going to be an Utrana force, elite cavalry. You're not just going to be in it. You're going to command it. Melman's as smart as a rock, we'll need better than him someday."

Sanion's eyes went wide, as he imagined greater possibilities than I intended for him. He was the test for the new investment. To see if the army would respect Utrana leaders because they came from me. I'd have to be careful tonight to manage his expectations, so that they were a tad lower than I envisioned for him and he would perfom his duties with the energy and vigor of a man who constantly thinks he's exceeding expectations.

And I certainly didn't want one of my rising stars to be under Melman's command if that idiot was put in charge of the new levy. He was little more than a competent trainer of men, but Ti had written recently he thought Melman was ready for command. Ridiculous. He was ready to be Ti's dog, but nothing else. My dear husband had been overly concerned about people's loyalty to him personally lately. It was a potential problem, now that Hamalcar had finally sent a real force west out of Siga.

Carthage wasn't truly backing Hamalcar yet, or Atlantic Maure would be in serious trouble. As it was, we were lucky Ti had finally gotten his way with the new troop levy he'd been pushing. I'd been wrong about waiting to ensure the Iberian trade could support a new army, but thankfully Ti had overruled me. The Carthaginian army coming over the Atlas mountains was in for a nasty surprise thanks to Ti's preparations.



***

[Ti Sagun]

Melman and I reviewed the southern recruits the day they left camp outside of Sala and marched for Lixus, where they would be given their swords and helmets produced at the foundries there. Each man was responsible for their own shield and javelins. I was pleased to see most men had elephant-hide shields, evidence of the mighty hunting prowess of the Maure.

The men walked by us in units, and we frowned if someone looked out of place, complimented those who looked particularly sharp. It was good for them to see their new commander, Melman, who I had finally decided to put in charge of the newly raised army. Melman was inexperienced, true, but he was a doughty fighter, and I expected he would learn on the job. And he was bound to me, no one else who mattered had supported his career.

In the evening we discussed the battle of Lixus, when I defeated a much smaller Carthaginian army surprised by the size and scope of my Army of Mauretania. It had been an uncomplicated affair, as the Army of Mauretania met the Carthaginian line head on and badly out-flanked it to one side. When their cavalry tried to stem the die, a few reserve units and my own personal guard had stopped them and the Carthaginian line collapsed under the weight of our numbers. Simple, but effective. These were the kinds of tactics I expected Melman could handle.

"We should have the advantage in numbers again if Hamalcar sends a force down upon Atlantic Maure. I will seek to give battle at the first opportunity, catch him on a flat and be done with it. This will prevent significant damage to the countryside, and allow us to retreat into one of the cities if the gods go against us."

I nodded, agreeing with Melmen it was an obvious and therefore probably correct plan. "And if the Carthaginian force on the far side of the Atlas mountains strikes now, with speed?"

Melman scoffed at the notion. "It is unlikely. I expect a second feint; after all, the first one worked so well. I expect they will pull back and ravage the hills south of the Pillars of Hercules. Stenu's poor family may suffer some raids, but I expect that will be all this season. If they shall make for Lixus, I need only meet the army and crush them. But I think I shall stay here in Sala for a few weeks before traveling north."

I frowned. "It might be best if you did not. If the Carthaginians crossed the Atlas and marched fast on Sala, you could find yourself trapped away from the army and behind the rivers. And you would have more time for the army to get used to your command."

Melman waved away the worry. "The officers know who is in charge. And I think my business is best served here for the time being. As for the Carthaginians marching on Sala, they know well Lixus is essentially the key to Atlantic Maure, the heart of our movement."

Then why did Melman want to be here? Simple. I was the heart of the national movement in Atlantic Maure, the man with all the authority. He had only arrived a few days ago, and he wanted all the lesser nobles, important men in Sala, and other hangers on to see he was a man I esteemed before he left. Not, perhaps, what I would do, but a minor matter.



***

[Lina Utrana Sagun]

I watched the painted horses from the southern wall of Lixus. From this distance they were little more than a brown stream dotted with little gems flowing over the hills and gullies outside the city. Haroon was still focusing on riding lessons, not even beginning combat drills yet. He insisted riding be taught first, which offended dear Sanion and his companions, who already considered themselves horsemen. Still, they could little argue when old stiff Haroon mounted his horse and became grace itself, weaving in and out of the mounted Utrana and taunting them for their overconfidence. I still wasn't sure if he would be as effective a trainer as my agents in Iberia claimed, but I could not fault Haroon's work ethic.

The same could not be said for accursed Melman. Much as I loved watching my band of painted-horse Utrana grow, it was not them I truly wanted to see. I wanted the dust of the commander of this new army's horses to appear on the horizon. That they might move south soon. Today. This very second.

Hamalcar's force had marched over the Atlas with sudden intent, crossing the mountains by the time their movements were reported. Already I was learning that they marched as quickly as any Maure army had managed, forgoing even the lightest pillage for a few more miles of movement each day. And they marched southwest, for Sala. While the army, complete with shiny weapons, the best of Lixus' forges, was stranded in the north without a head. For four days now, I had stood on this southern wall and watched, and waited. My messages to the army's camp outside the eastern wall had gone unheeded.




[Melman is not Mauretania's best general.]

Today, another long day, was soon to pass, the lengthening shadows speaking again of the setting sun. I left the wall, heading towards the eastern gate. There was a public house there, with private rooms, near to the army's camp.

Private rooms, as it turns out, are incredibly poorly lit. Despite four candles, and a small window - unfortunately facing east - it was still difficult to see the faces of the two men who finally came to join me. I had been expecting more, and four glasses of wine were already poured. Unfortunate.

"Madame Utrana"

"Mrs. Sagun"

The two men talked over each other as they greeted me, confused both by my presence and their own different words. "Sit down please, gentlemen. Share some wine with me and introduce yourselves."

"I am Pintamos. Don't mind if I do." The taller of the two guarded his expression well, but accepted the wine I offered. He was lighter than most Maure, although by candlelight I couldn't tell if he was half Greek, half Phoenician, half Numidian, half Iberian, or, well, simply a lighter Maure.

"And I am Stenu. No relation." The other man was a bit more abrupt. "Thank you for the offer, but I don't drink alcohol." I watched Pintamos' face to see if he was surprised by that, but he gave no reaction.

Pintamos spoke up before I could begin. "We are most busy at the moment, Madame Utrana. The message from Abulos insisted we take some time out of our schedule to meet with important Lixus nobles."

I smiled thinly, showing my displeasure. "I am the most important noble in Lixus. Abulos included. I was not happy to have to ask him to arrange this meeting."

"Mrs. Sagun, we have received your messages insisting we march south immediately. We simply have not had the chance to respond."

I removed the displeasure from my face and stared without expression at this other Stenu, which I often find is received more ominously because it conveys the impression that I don't need to send a simple message... my displeasure would be shown in more tangible ways. "You have not had time. What, pray, have you been doing as the army sits in camp and... sits?"

Pintamos set down his wine and put his hands together in a placating gesture. "Keeping an army ready to move on command is more difficult than it seems for officers, especially if the day to march keeps being delayed. Discipline must be maintained, soldiers leaving camp for recreation must be tracked down and brought back, the animals must be kept in constant readiness without wasting them for lack of exercise. It is, frankly, as much work for unit leaders as battle."

The organization of men in the face of constant eroding forces. Yes, that did make sense. But more importantly, "so the army is ready to march as soon as the command is given?"

"Of course." Stenu looked indignant.

I leaned forward, straining my eyes and watching them both carefully. "Then march. I give the order. Abulus will write it out and sign it. In the absence of my husband, Ti, we are all the authority in Lixus. March, and banish the enemy from our lands. What could be simpler?"

Both of them looked as if they wanted to. Stenu was held back by fear, of punishment perhaps. Pintamos had a more complicated look. It was he that answered. "Your husband, Ti, was most explicit as we left Sala. The troops marched past him, standing by Melman, as he clearly delegated his authority. Moreover, the night previously he had called the three southern captains together and instructed us all to put our full faith in Melman, to take his orders as Ti's own. And Melman told us to wait here at Lixus to rally the army personally."

I very nearly ground my teeth in frustration. Men and their insecurities! If Ti needed someone so desperately loyal, could he not have chosen someone with a brain? "Then there are three captains who all agree with this insane waiting game?"

"Five. Two from Lixus with the northern levies, both having received similarly clear instructions." Pintamos's voice was firm, as if he was he wanted me to be certain of this fact and the difficulty it would present me if I tried to change it. Which meant that, on some level, he understood politics. Interesting. But not immediately helpful. This new Stenu might be the weaker link.

"Well please take this wine back to the other captains. Tell them to save it to toast the Carthaginian occupation of Sala." Pintamos's expression was hostile, but he took the wine. I could figure out later what that meant.

As they left, I separated the weaker captain from Pintamos. "Stenu, wait."

"Yes?" He stayed as Pintamos left.

"If this army fails to move, and Sala falls. I will destroy you. Ti will destroy you. You will take all the blame for the illness you have been infected with by Melman." I stood up, and did my best to adopt the aura of power I knew I could project. Although I was used to better lighting. "I will personally crush your family, drive them from Atlantic Maure. Or you can be the hero. March the army south. Save Atlantic Maure from a terrible fate."

It almost worked. But something rallied this lesser Stenu. "I met Ti in the south. He's an inspiration. The strongest will I've met, Mauretania in person. He gave me an order. I refuse to believe he'd hang me for following it. And he's not the sort of man to be ruled by his wife." The idiot actually bared his teeth at me before leaving.

Well, it was true. Ti was not the sort of man to be ruled by his wife. Which I had to admit was one of his best qualities. But Stenu was too simple to understand a couple where one or the other didn't dominate, that both could be independent powers. Frustrating.

I left the public house and left to find my blacksmith, a crafty old Celt who knew how to charge high prices for wares other smiths didn't have the skill to make. Night had already fallen, but I pounded on his door until his wife woke and I waited for her to bring him.

"Sagun-wife. I sleep. Talk tomorrow." The smith's genius with the hammer did not extend to linguistics. Thankfully, the Celt's wife was nearby in case more complicated translation was needed.

"Are they done?"

The smith shook his head. "No." I'd thought not.

I pulled out three gold coins and held them up in the moonllight. "A bonus if you finish by the morning. If you cannot, I'll never hire you again." My business alone might not carry that much weight. But the lesser noblewomen who revolved around me had started acquiring certain decorative fixtures they'd seen at my residence.

The smith worked that out for a bit before turning and shouting. "Boy!" I smiled at the man's wife and left to go to bed, still frustrated I'd failed to move Pintamos and Stenu with my usual means.

***

In the morning the smith earned his gold coins, and his wife gave me a thick padded linen tunic to wear, which did absolute horrors with my figure, and I put it on. The Celt and his boy helped me into the thin chainmail I'd ordered. It was cut to a woman's figure, but the weight still felt heavy and uncomfortable on my shoulders and breasts.

As I walked to the city's eastern gate, my sword, fashioned in the Maure style, bumped uncomfortably against my leg. I didn't like how it pulled on one side and not the other. Stares and shocked faces were my companions through the city, which was not my favorite state of affairs.

As dawn approached, the gate was still locked. The men on duty, as uncomfortable with my appearance as I felt - I hoped I was successfully hiding that - started to open the side door, but I stopped them and ordered the main gate opened.

This took a while, and gave the opportunity to adjust my appearance. This took some planning, as looking my best armed and wearing Celtic chainmail was a first for me, to say the least. I rarely wielded even a kitchen knife. Finally I unsheathed my sword and placed it carefully on my right shoulder, trying to look as if I'd casually swung it there. That took the uncomfortable weight from my hip and the naked blade gave me more of a martial air, I hoped. I shrugged my shoulders, trying to take some of the weight off my chest, failed, and stepped forward into the rising sunlight.

The army camp was just stirring as the dawn sun rose. It was as perfect an entrance as I could manage. The great eastern gates swung open for me, and I stood bathed in the early morning light, chainmail and bared sword shining in the light. It was too early for sweat to appear on my brow, and no one need know about the dampness in my armpits.

I was nervous. As I strode forward, doing my best to exude confidence, I considered the butterflies in my stomach. It seemed my instinct told me I was going to lose this gamble. Oh. Too late now.

Whoever was manning the makeshift gate in the army's camp opened it without challenging me, thank goodness. If I'd been stopped and had to wait for someone in authority to be summoned, I might as well give up now.

I strode through the camp with purpose, but adopting a deceptively slow gait to allow as many gawkers and curious men to accumulate. I didn't respond to any questions, but I smiled and nodded in the right direction when one of my names was called out. It was a grim smile, intended to communicate my purpose.

By the time I made it to the largest tent in camp, which I dearly hoped was the command tent, quite the crowd had gathered. I turned before entering, still carrying the bared sword on my shoulder, surrounded by men amazed at my appearance and presence. By now I hoped most of them knew who I was, there should be a number of young men from Lixus who would know me by sight. It wasn't that big a city.

One of the closer warriors asked the question. "Madame Lina, what...?"

Confusion creates the perfect stage. I couldn't have planned it better. "Today I march south. A good wife does not leave her husband to face danger alone. I do hope some of you will come with me." I flashed a brief feminine but not girlish smile, my voice not quite adopting a formal tone. A few in the front row, who could hear my voice, gave a ragged cheer. They, too, wanted out of camp.

I'd chosen a quiet voice and my words carefully. Maure men would never understand a woman trying to take control of the army. A woman in armor was just bizarre. But a wife dutifully standing by her husband was a motivation everyone could understand. Hopefully, there was a chance that was the explanation that would stick in their minds. By speaking softly, I ensured that those in the front of the crowd would have to explain it to those in the back. The two things in the whole charade that were easiest to explain were march south and a wife running to her husband in danger. Plus, the crowd wouldn't disperse as those in the back waited to hear what I'd said, and the men discussed the idea.

I turned and entered the tent. Five men stood before me, including Pintamos and Stenu. As I'd expected, my slow approach had sent them scurrying to common ground to figure out what the heck I was doing and what they should do.

"What god has seized your brain, and what do you think you are doing?" That was one of the ones I didn't know, but he had a Lixus accent. It seemed they hadn't gotten very far in their discussions. I let them wait for an answer, lifting my sword from my shoulder and carefully trying to put it back in its sheath. I missed on the first attempt, and had to jerk my left hand back to avoid being cut. Thankfully I got it on the second try, as Stenu started forward, presumably to take the weapon out of my hands.

"A woman does not belong in the camp. Especially one mocking the role of the warrior." Another man I didn't know, a southerner. He was loud, as the other man been, trying to take control of a situation flush with confusion and uncertainty for the men.

"Even a woman with more balls than the rest of you combined?" I asked quietly. "I'll tell you exactly what I'm doing. I'm taking this army south. I'm doing YOUR duty, defending this country. If any of you are man enough to join me, you're welcome to come along."

"How dare!?..." I wouldn't quite say they growled, but most of them made some noise as they looked for words to respond.

"I am Lina. Utrana. Sagun. I am head of my own clan. I am wife to Ti Sagun, governor of Atlantic Maure. Who YOU have left stranded in the south. Do not ask me what I dare. I made this country. I followed my husband when he raised our banners. I took them from his hand and gave them to Stenu when he wouldn't go far enough. Dare? This is nothing. I eat bigger men than you for breakfast." They seemed spellbound by my low voice. "Do any one of you think you're going to throw me, bodily, from this camp? Disarm me publicly in front of all the men? Do you know what I do to men who try to humiliate me in public?" Let's see which of them had been there when peace was signed with the Lusotann.

The Lixus men exchanged nervous glances, while Pintamos smiled. "We could do just that," he said. "It'd have to be humiliating, of course. But not aggressive. Patronizing. The silly lady thinks she can go to war." His smile widened, as he felt the truth of his words. They could do exactly that. Damn them. But then, this is the second time Pintamos had shown an understanding of politics.

"Do you know you all are rather loud? The men outside, and there's a lot of them, can probably hear you. But they can't hear me. You protest and say no, and then run into a wall of silence. What magic words am I using? Why are their great and important officers, the men who run their lives, stymied by one woman? Every moment here gives me power."

It was a partially true statement. Most of them just looked confused, working out what I was getting at. I beckoned Pintamos forward, and he actually came. I put my hand behind his head and bent it so I could whisper into his ear. "It's true, you could throw me out. Patronizing is the perfect way to play it. And you'd never rise to a higher rank than what you have right now. But the men outside. They want to go. You know it's right. I'm giving you an opportunity. I can't lead them. I need one of you to do it. Someone who I can reward. I don't fight with my husband you know. Back me, and you'll command this army all the way to Sala, and who knows after that. Even if my husband forsakes you, the Utrana will always look after you." The other men were inching forward, suddenly worried they were being left out. Which of course, they were. But they didn't have the balls to change the situation. "I'm going to walk out of the tent now, Pintamos, and tell the men we march south. You can come out, and bundle me off to Lixus, or you can support me, and I'll set you above these four yahoos."

I walked out side, and all the gathered soldiers quieted down. Finally, I spoke loudly and clearly, with all the volume I could muster. "We march south. For Sala. For my Ti. For Mauretania. The men, smitten by a love story that sounded like one their mother might have told them when they were little, and more than that, bored of sitting in camp and worried for their countrymen in the south, cheered loudly.

And then Pintamos emerged from the command tent with a stern look on his face. "What are you men doing here!?" The man could shout. "Look alive!" He started calling out to particular men and giving them instructions "get the animals ready... get your men ready, you'll lead the column for today... get your horse and tell Abulos we leave today..." I mimicked his harsh demeanor as he pretended the men should have magically known to be about their duties already.

Pintamos didn't miss a beat, recognizing that I was solidifying my authority by lending it to him. By midday I was exhausted, and had to admit defeat and take off my chainmail and sword, letting two soldiers carry them. But I kept walking. If no one else was going to see these men got to where they needed to be, I would.

***

I quickly learned that marching was hard, draining work. And after that first half-day I didn't even think about wearing my mail or carrying my sword. No more than water, traveling clothes, and my ugly, dirty linen tunic. But I marched, every day, with one unit or another. And I demanded we go on longer while the men next to me wanted to stop. Or I did until Pintamos informed me that we couldn't force-march all the way to Sala and that it would take the men twice as long to set up camp in the dark, essentially wasting time the next morning.

But the men loved me for it, dirt and all. To my shock and amazement, not one crude comment was directed at me, not one hand took liberties. Which isn't to say I didn't overhear a few raunchy speculations from a distance, but the speaker was always shushed by a soldier who bought into my position as a figurehead.

Pintamos adroitly solidified his temporary command by giving orders to the other four captains, using my authority as person-beloved-by-the-men or Ti's wife when he needed it. By the time the march ended, which was actually only about two weeks, I ended each day in the tent two soldiers set up for me crying myself to sleep for the pain in my legs and feet. Along with the rest of the army, we were allowed only about four hours of sleep each of the last few nights as Pintamos pushed us.

Thankfully, we didn't have to march past burnt fields and slaughtered Maure. The reports had been correct, the Carthaginian army had moved with speed and taken no time to ravage the countryside. I counted us lucky when we finally came within sight of Sala and the small Carthaginian army camped outside her walls. I saw what looked like finished battering rams, but Pintamos assured me we could wait until morning to attack and not risk the city. I watched the hustle and bustle of camp being set, wishing I could sit in the dirt and massage my calves without sacrificing my dignity.

"Sagun will sally in the morning with his horse." Pintamos was standing on top of a donkey, shading his eyes to see some signal from the city. I thought he looked ridiculous, but it didn't seem to affect him.

"How many others will come with him?"

"Just his bodyguard and the local noble horse. Oh, I'm sure Sagun organized the citizenry to defend the walls. But they can't be expected to take the field."

I was struck by a sudden irrational fear for my husband. Surely he knew what he was doing. After all, he'd won the battle of Lixus. But I couldn't get the worry outside of my mind.

That evening, I made sure Pintamos explained the battle plan to me carefully, wanting to be sure I knew what was happening the next day.

"It's a fairly simple plan, both because I don't have cavalry under my command, and so Sagun can anticipate our actions and support as needed. The bulk of our infantry will form a central line opposing the Carthaginian force, who we outnumber. Stenu will command that section of the line. He is uncreative but reliable.

"A sizeable unit on the right flank will release javelins at the enemy but otherwise hold itself in reserve and protect us from being encircled. On our left flank, the enemy's right, I will lead a second force around the enemy line and unleash our javelins before charging. It's the natural weak spot, and the best place for Sagun to assault as well." I looked at Pintamos blankly. "Shields are strapped to the left hand," he explained. "The enemy's right flank is always more exposed for that reason."

"Oh." That seemed rather clever, actually.

"If the enemy's cavalry doesn't give chase, Sagun will most likely sweep across the enemy's rear from their left to their right, releasing javelins along the way and keeping his men's shields facing the enemy. When he reaches their beleaguered right, he'll charge and collapse that end of the Carthaginian line. The rest will flee in turn. In theory." Pintamos smiled. "In practice, I don't know where they'll put their heavy cavalry. But it shouldn't matter. We outnumber them heavily, but block their retreat. They have to fight."

I studied the markings he'd made. "I'll put myself here then, on the unit in the right flank." Whoa, that surprised him.

"You'll do no such thing. You'll remain in camp, well guarded."

"Phah." I scoffed at the notion. "I didn't march my legs half to death to stay in camp."

"You're a symbol to the men. If you were injured or killed, they could break and run, which is death to an army." Pintamos was trying to sound patient and helpful, to get me to acquiesce.

"If I stay in camp, I cease to be a symbol. Use me instead. The men around me might just rally and stand against anything to protect me." Pintamos shook his head. I knew what he was going to say. Too dangerous. But I liked being a symbol. I was beginning to stand for Mauretania itself to many of the men. For their hopes and dreams of the woman they wanted to marry, a warrior goddess and fantasy in the flesh. I liked that power. "If you've a better place to put me, fine. But I'm marching out tomorrow, whether you like it or not." Pintamos frowned, but nodded.



***

The chainmail was still heavy, and I prayed that the man who showed me how to use the bright elephant-hide shield they'd given me didn't tell too many people how clumsy I was with it. It was strapped to my back while all the other men carried theirs. I didn't think I could carry it for longer than absolutely necessary. They all held javelins carefully balanced in the same hand. I couldn't tell how they did it. Somehow, being around so many sharp points was more nerve-wracking on the field of battle than on march without armor. Pintamos had found a helmet that more or less fit me, and overruled my protests about wearing it. My sword was strapped to my waist, a small water pouch and my new eating knife helping to balance the weight.

I stood near the back of a thousand intensely proud Maure on the right flank, in the reserve unit. I bumped into the men next to me a few times as the man giving our orders marched us around, but they didn't seem to mind. In fact, I think they were as happy as could be to have me there.

With all the dust and with many of the men in front of me taller than I was, I got only a few looks at the enemy force. There didn't seem to be many of them. Maybe they were disorganized or... I didn't know. We were ordered to run forward, I guess Pintamos wanted to hit them while they were disorganized.



I didn't get a good look at what was going on until the men were ordered to ready javelins. I made sure I held my shield tight with my left hand, before using my right to help as well so I could take the weight for awhile. I caught a second of clear vision as the men around me leaned forward and threw their javelins. I found myself ducking my head, pointlessly. But I saw two things. One, a shining line of horse and metal, galloping at full speed towards the center of our line. I saw javelins from the center too, and a few horses die, but the sheer beauty of the thunderous charge still took my breath away. Seconds after our javelins were thrown I could see them no more, but a great crash, and screams, and horse noise above all the rest smashed into the men to our left, who seemed almost as a mass to lurch back.



And the other thing I saw, near a copse of juniper ahead and to the right, were more Maure, certainly more elephant-hide shields. They must have come out from the city, there had been a horse or two, perhaps tangled up with Ti's men somehow.

But that wasn't right. I went over it three times in my head. I knew where all our men should be. And no one should be ahead and to the right of the men around me. No army units had stayed in Sala, they had all come up to Lixus to gather and be supplied from the foundries. Just Ti's bodyguard and the citizens on the walls. Pintamos had been sure.

I pushed my way to the front of the unit until the men began parting of their own accord and found the flag-man who gave signals to Pintamos and our own back ranks and the officer giving orders. I couldn't see what was happening in the trees because of the vegetation and all the dust being kicked up. Like if there was a battle, say. But there's no reason for us to attack Carthaginians there. Then I saw it, in a flash, as the officer ran up to me to get me back in the middle of the men. Ti was supposed to sweep across the back of the Carthaginian line, right? There was the dip the horses would take down onto the field of battle, right where the trees ended. The only cover available. A perfect ambush to salvage something from a doomed force.

I interrupted the man as he begged me to move into cover and pointed towards the copse of trees. "Ambush, there! They're going to try and kill my Ti!"

"Madame. Just move back into..." He was one of the officers from Lixus who I'd moved aside for Pintamos.

Forget that. The eyes of everyone in the front ranks were on me. I raised my right arm, hoping my exhausted left arm could take the weight of the shield for a little while longer. "Forward." That was too quiet. "For Sagun! For Mauretania!" I don't know how many heard me shout, but all eyes were on me as I jogged towards the trees under the weight of the chainmail and this damn shield. I'd always been a strong woman, but I wasn't used to his kind of strain. But the men ran forward once they saw me move, in the right direction, forgetting the flags and the officer and following me, who, after all, had brought them here. The men swept me along with them. By the time we neared the trees we could see Maure fighting Maure, what must have been a mercenary unit against the Ti's bodyguard.

The mercenaries had surrounded Ti's men and were struggling to bring them down. The back few ranks had watched us approach and turned to throw javelins at us. They came at us, incredibly fast, until...



I screamed and raised my shield with both hands as it felt like something almost broke my left shoulder. My shield was dragged down out of my hands, and I saw the javelin sticking out of it as it dropped to the ground. It seemed all eyes were on me as I started shaking. But since my shield was gone I figured I ought to draw my sword. I managed to grab it, jittery hands and all, and then the thousand men around me seemed to shout at once, pull their weapons, and charge forward.

I was carried along by their momentum and my fear of being trampled. But I did hold my wits about me long enough to let several ranks of men pass in front of me before the clash began in earnest. I held my sword with both hands, but the men around me seemed to have no intention of letting me into harm's way again, for which I was sincerely grateful.

I had no concept of how long it took us to break the mercenary unit. They died to a man, knowing they couldn't run from the speed of Ti's horses and probably suspecting the fury at their betrayal and ambush would not lead us to accepting surrender.

I found Ti after the battle was over, as he came to thank the men for turning the ambush. He jumped from his horse and ran to me, taking me in his arms. I cried and cried, because there was blood all over him, but my hands felt all over and couldn't find a wound. Finally he realized what I was doing. "It's not mine, love." As it turns out, he lied, he did have a cut on his leg, but it wasn't serious.

Eventually, he pulled away and looked at the men around us. "You saved me," he began in his parade-voice. But my unit erupted with joy, cheering and yelling, all the adrenaline of battle, the love of being alive, and the fervor they felt because they thought Ti was addressing me, and they'd brought me here, it all spilled out and I realized we were legends in the flesh now.

I shivered then, because I, too, was overwhelmed with all the determination and hate and fear and love and joy and pride and power and every emotion I'd felt that day.

[Tanit]

Stunning!

[gamegeek2]

Wow.

I can't find the proper superlative.

Just, wow.

[Ghaust the Moor]

Speachless....



The only thing I have to say is that Mrs. Sagun is evil!!! EVIL I TELL YOU!!!!! I would defenently not want her anywhere near me ;) I be afraid she'd have someone assasinate me if I said something wrong.

[MisterFred]

Thanks y'all. Comments make a writer feel like he's not wasting his time.

Especially Ghaust. I'm particularly interested to hear what people think of Lina Utrana Sagun.

[Tanit]

I really appreciate the inclusion of women into politics because it happened a lot in ancient history. I was planning on doing something similar myself way back but my regular EB work prevented me from ever writing it. As such its great to see this here. You also seem to have a great sense for story flow, this coming from a writer, as well as a great sense of where a story might go and preparing your characters and audience for all potential ends. I've only read about a dozen AARs but I think this might be the best I've read yet.

[gamegeek2]

I like her as a character - much more interesting than the rest of them by far.

[Ghaust the Moor]

For my actual educated answer. I personally find her to be one of my favorite characters. She is the most fleshed out character by far in this AAR alongside that Garamantine general. Those two are the main ones that display any sort of motifs and themes recurrent in thier actions. With this, I look foward to the next chapter, I've become addicted ;)

[Tanit]

For my actual educated answer. I personally find her to be one of my favorite characters. She is the most fleshed out character by far in this AAR alongside that Garamantine general. Those two are the main ones that display any sort of motifs and themes recurrent in thier actions. With this, I look foward to the next chapter, I've become addicted ;)

Ditto.

[MisterFred]

by Tarkun of Siga

[Ch. 15]

The Army of Mauretania suffered a hard winter. Not because of the cold, far from that. While troublesome at night, at mid-day the cool was a relief to the men marching mile after mile, day after day. I faced a morale problem among my veteran troops. They had lost their leader, Stenu, at the same time they suffered a major and unexpected defeat. They marched along uncertain companions they trusted little, a situation not helped by the constant effort needed to guard the baggage train from the mercenaries attached to the army. Not a few incidents had ended in bloodshed, presumably as mercenaries made a try for a healthy amount of coin before intending to desert. There was a shortage of leather and sandals as well, most of our herds being lost west of Atiqa or eaten since then, some men having to do with the thinnest of foot protection. But by far the worst problem was rumor and worry about home. These men had undergone heroic efforts, and done more than anyone expected of them at the outset of their journey, but it seemed the Carthaginians had done more. At Atiqa the men had heard that Carthaginians raided Atlantic Maure, that Siga had fallen, that both had happened, and some even believed that all the Maure in the world but them had been killed. I knew, of course, from Lixus that a Carthaginian feint had led to the fall of Siga, but being from the region myself, I feared the effects of officially admitting that fact.

Marching behind the coastal range, we were completely cut off from Mauretania. Which was true when we marched east out of Numidia as well, of course, but things never seem as bad when on the offensive as when an army is in retreat. The mercenary captains had been warned of the long march ahead of us, of course, and expected such things before they would get too upset about the lack of plunder. Although many of them complained about the difficult pace set by the Army of Mauretania along our march, the matter-of-fact performance of the veterans day after day kept them in line. The mercenaries, in fact, helped assuage my worries on more than a few scores. Worry from the rank-and-file of the Maure was in no small part due to a depressing lack of confidence in my leadership. Stenu would never have let the herds be so reduced, they said, forgetting I had been chief among the officers leading rustling raids and foraging parties along our march. If even Stenu had failed to protect the homelands, what chance did mere Tarkun have? And of course I took the blame for defeat as well. The battle must have been going fine until Stenu died, until I somehow botched it by failing to protect him, or failing to carry out his plan, or being to afraid to throw myself into battle as Stenu did. I had my doubts about Stenu's battle plan, now, but I had no idea how to counter the worry and grumbling in the army. But the mercenaries ignored all that. Their pay agreements had been negotiated with me. Anyone else was a question mark in terms of their contract, which reduced my worry that the army as a whole would follow my leadership. The veterans suspected my ability, and most of them being from Atlantic Maure, felt they owed me little loyalty, but they had no wish to see Mauretania's hard-earned plunder stolen by mercenaries of uncertain character. The mercenaries cared more about money that the Army of Mauretania or its country, but they owed me personal loyalty as the leader of the army.

It was a bad winter, yes, but I held faith that the army would stay together. Until we left the shadow of the coastal range and descended into northern Numidia. Should I continue to plunder that land, so it might not be able to raise another army? I questioned the army's ability to do so thoroughly, and it was doubtful the mercenaries would consider the plunder of Numidia sufficient. I could strike directly west for Siga, but how many stadia could an army march before dropping of exhaustion? I might find out one day. The mercenaries would no doubt be happy if I marched south and east again, heading back to the eastern coast and the smaller cities around Adrumento, or perhaps Lepki. That would provide more loot and plunder, but I would effectively be abandoning Mauretania and embarking on a mercenary career. Fanciful visions of my last years as a lord and land-holder in Ptolemaic Ethiopia seemed both laughable and strangely plausible.


[The Army of Mauretania's position in spring, 234]

In the end, I loved my own land and the hollow life as a mercenary captain looked repugnant next to service to my people. With that certainty in my mind, the Numidians themselves made my decision for me. They hadn't wintered in Atiqa, supported by the Carthaginian treasury, as I had assumed. Instead, they had paralleled our hard march along the interior route on the easier coastal road. As we came down out of the foothills, they caught us on the march. I tried to retreat back into the mountains, but the Numidians followed and hemmed in our foragers. Possessing significant food stores themselves, and in friendly country, the Numidians had no need of foragers and could concentrate on blocking our movement. The Army of Mauretania would be forced to battle the Numidians once more, this time in the north of their country. Victory would not only mean the ability to continue north or west, but we might just be able to capture part of the Numidian's baggage train in the event of an enemy rout.



If we could beat the Numidians this time. Again we outnumbered them, this time by a slightly larger ratio. But before they had beaten us with little more than the motivation for revenge for our outrages in their country. Now their commanders could tell them their homes themselves depended on a victory. Again, they had large numbers of elephants to support their main army, and a Carthage had sent an advisor with heavy cavalry and probably considerable pay for the Numidians in return for their march towards Atiqa and continued service. But while the Numidians would be determined, our army knew that loss meant almost certain death. The Maure veterans would have no place to turn, and the Carthaginians had never been known to be kind to mercenaries impudent enough to work against them in Africa. There was no reason to think their impoverished Numidian allies would show mercy and take defeated mercenaries into their service rather than put them to sword. The two armies met high in the drought-parched hills, with the actual clash taking place on a small, relatively-level plain. Neither army held to a hill, as both sides desired a decisive engagement. The Army of Mauretania was running low on supplies, while the Numidians wished to return to their homes and plant crops or rebuild herds.


[The Army of Mauretania]


[The Army of Numidia. Yes, that's the AI-created name of the enemy general. I swear my computer is taunting me. "Lolzors I pwnzored you with r3b3ls. Now my miracle-resurrecting elephants will stomp on you again to publicly humiliate you in your AAR."]

Both sides adjusted their formations. The Numidians, relying perhaps too heavily on their elephants, positioned all of them in the front of their army. For my part, the bulk of my infantry was in a simple solid line, sacrificing flexibility and putting my formation at greater potential risk for disruption by elephants, but increasing the concentration of missiles that could be thrown on the beasts and strengthening the line for what I now viewed as the inevitable clash between our infantry. The Ligurians, with the fewest javelins, were positioned on the far right, farthest from the elephants.





The Numidians opened with a full charge of their elephants. Orders went out to all of my units focus all efforts on the elephants, and hold their ground, regardless of enemy action. The elephants did manage to break into my left, but at horrendous cost, and with their infantry too far to follow up on the beasts' shattering blow, my infantry had time to regroup and reform. The Balearics did not fare as well. They too were disrupted by the elephant charge, but Amikas came close behind the Numidian beasts and charged the disorganized formation with his heavy cavalry. The Ligurians moved forward to engage the slowed enemy horse, but the Balearics were shattered.



My own men largely out of javelins and the elephants largely neutralized, a charge by the entire army was ordered. Many of the Numidians still had arrows or javelins that went unused as they were forced into melee, a result I was most pleased with. Their resistance was stiff however, as even the least armed among them fought with the unwavering determination they had shown outside of Atiqa.





But ultimately, our army had no where to run, our lines held firm despite horrific casualties, and with the Ligurians tying down the enemy cavalry, my personal guard was able to break multiple units with unopposed charges into their rear. The Army of Mauretania won the battle of Numidia. Enough provisions were captured that rations were increased, although not to the extent desired by the men. Still, the army that had been worn down to the point that I felt we had to make for the closest fortifiable city to rest and consider our position. After only two days to reorganize the baggage train, collect the wounded, and award decorations, I ordered the army to march north to Ippone.





As we left Numidia for the coastal plain, I sent the Ligurian captain and trusted members of my own bodyguard east on a secret mission to hire more mercenaries to ensure the ragged Army of Mauretania had the strength to capture even lightly-defended Ippone. The cost cut into the considerable plunder we carried with us, but the army had been reduced to a bare eleven thousand men. I ordered the army to approach Ippone slowly, giving the defenders plenty of time to pull supplies into the city. In no hurry, I besieged the city during the summer months, not being particularly careful to cut off supplies and messages issuing to and from the walls, although reinforcements were carefully ambushed. As the heat of summer retreated, I was almost ready to give up on new mercenary divisions and assault the city with my eleven thousand when the Ligurian captain returned with more of his countrymen and some Greek mercenaries, appearing stouter than the poor and un-armored Greek levies Carthage had employed to little end in Iberia and outside of Adrumento. My emissaries had convinced them to serve with the promise of immediate pay and the opportunity to join in the sack of Ippone, a sack I was not at all sure I planned to carry out. The issue was easily side-stepped, as the men were anxious for their initial pay, and the focus was turned to the capture of the city.

With the reinforcements, this proved to be a certain proposition. When the townspeople saw our numbers, the only significant opposition was an elite phalanx that had been intended to lead the populace in resistance rather that protect it alone. The pikemen were surrounded by the Greek mercenaries. But the foreign mercenaries, armed for defense, failed utterly at breaking the rear of the formation. Eventually I had to send in the more capable Maure mercenary force.







The mercenaries were held in uneasy check for a few days as I assessed the city, still reeling from the first time it was plundered by the Army of Mauretania. I spent half my time with the captains threatening them and ensuring they kept control their troops as I tried to survey the city. The Phoenician population had stabilized, and waited warily to see what we would do. Siga argued that the Maure could administer a Phoenician city, and our swords and spears argued that resistance was unwise, but the memory of the previous mass enslavement, and the obvious desire of the mercenaries, was ever-present. Worse, a large number of Numidians displaced by the Army of Mauretania's first march through that country had moved north and settled in the city with the encouragement of the Carthaginians, who had sought to repopulate it. The only good news was that food supplies were strong. But I needed more than a granary and walls. I needed a base for months of rest for the army.

Finally, the pressure of the mercenaries built to a head, and the Ligurian captain hinted he might not be able to hold the rest back much longer. There was no need for a sack. Mauretania would gain nothing, and the population had so far refrained from riots, or even minor harassment, instead adopting a sullen subservience as the army waited. The surviving Phoenician notables feared for their lives, but that fear led them to co-operate with the hated enemy to preserve their families. But my first worry had to be the preservation of the Army of Numidia. I warned select Phoenicians in advance, and spread my loyal Maure veterans across strategic locations in Ippone to maintain some semblance of control, and unleashed the mercenaries. But orders were given to limit their assault to the Numidian population only. Phoenicians and their property were to be strictly preserved. Disorganized and chaotic, the violence went on for three days of atrocity and outrage before the screams and the blood stopped. I personally rode through the streets with my bodyguard during most of it, helping enforce the protection of the Phoenicians with the promise of death if violators were caught. But my eyes were full of the atrocities committed against the rest of the civilian population, and the taste of bile never left my throat. Previous sacks had seemed necessary to the physical survival of the Army of Mauretania, needed to weaken the Carthaginian juggernaut. This was destruction for destruction's sake. And the order came directly from me, I could not blindly rely on the judgment of Stenu, revered founder of Mauretania. This one was mine, and when the rumors spread through the Numidian captives that my bodyguard had ridden through the streets to force the mercenaries to continue, it seemed as reasonable as the truth, even to me.





My treasury saw little of the sale of slaves or what captured wealth could be found, but the Phoenicians were, mostly, unhurt and the mercenaries were, barely, satisfied. When the gates were finally opened, the army could spare enough men from security to help the populace bring a late harvest in. I dug the army in and reviewed the depressing news from points west. Much of the remaining plunder of Adrumento and Atiqa was secretly sent west by ship, with virtually no escort, to Atlantic Maure. Sadly, the loss of the coin at sea seemed less likely than its theft by my own mercenaries if I kept it in Ippone.

Throughout the fall and into winter I found myself playing politics. The ordinary townspeople wanted me to leave, but I kept control of the city with the mercenaries. The notable Phoenicians came to know only too well it was only my orders and discipline that kept a Greek or Ligurian from taking their property and their family members. With their co-operation and my veterans, I kept tenuous control of the mercenaries, who wanted me to march in any direction as long as it led to plunder (and I fully realized that when the mercenaries were satisfied, the dissolution of the army would follow). My Maure veterans wanted me to march on Siga, but they knew that without the mercenaries we didn't have the strength to assault a walled town. It seemed I was the only person who wanted the army to sit put. But in every other direction I saw disaster for the army or the recreation of a unified Carthaginian empire in Africa. Would they rebuild Atiqa if I was only a few months to the west? Could Numidia raise more troops, and would the Numidians dare take the offensive west when at any moment I could march south? I had Ippone's walls repaired and stockpiled javelins, food, and Phoenician goodwill. I sent messages to Lixus, by boat and the dangerous land route, hoping one would get through. If I was left alone long enough, I would turn Ippone into a base Carthage could not ignore. Stenu built the Army of Mauretania into the great hope of a people, but he was dead. Under my command, the remnants aimed for little more than being the dam that held back the Carthaginians long enough for the rest of Mauretania to stir itself once more.

So I sat in Ippone, and tossed and turned at night, hated by most, a disappointment to the rest, and I held the army together.

[Ghaust the Moor]

Great update. I hope to see more of Tarkun. Just a quick request: May we see a picture of the map so we can see the worldy situation? That little clip of Bactria on the side of one of your screenies got me curious ;)

[MisterFred]

I was going to wait for the next Atlantic Maure update for a world map, but I already had this screenshot cropped, so here ya go.

Notable notables:
Baktria is involved in a war with the Saka (no heavy battles as of yet).
Hayasdan variably forces the Sauromatae into a vassal relationship, then declares war on them again anyway.
That's not just a Saba rebellion in Bostra, they very briefly held Jerusalem (can't remember EB spelling) and they've sent up a legitimate stack from the south too (not that that'll matter).
Makedon is making a comeback from nothing more than Lesbos.
Probably the most hard-fought war on the map is between Epirus and Koinon Hellenon, who battle with large stacks virtually every turn over Boeotia.
Bythinia and Byzantium have been variously Pontic and Makedon.
Carthage really did besiege Syracuse once (and failed miserably).
Rome is at war with the Aedui, no one else.
The map probably looks fairly normal to most people, but runaway Ptolemies have previously been rare in my campaigns, and Epirus rarely lasts this long.

[Tanit]

I like the increased development of Tarkun. Great update!

[MisterFred]

by Captain Gisgo

[Ch. 16]

On the day of battle, we began full of confidence. Bomilcar had led us capably through the desert, splitting our forces for most of the journey to ease the strain on water resources. Local guides and a few lucky thunderstorms ensured surprisingly few men were lost to the elements. Outside the fortress of Tuat, our water supplies ran low, but four great rams were completed before our army reached the point of mortal danger.



Victory in our assault upon the walls would be essential, of course, the reliable spring within had to be captured. But it hardly seemed that we could fail. The entire Army of Mauretania itself had retreated rather than face Bomilcar in the field. And if a few divisions had been left to garrison Ippone and stiffen the resistance of the Numidians, our great army stretched as long as the eastern wall of Tuat. As if waiting for a sign from the gods, Bomilcar made us wait a few days more, but then a day finally came with a few high clouds providing a hint of occasional shade, and the battle began.

Bomilcar had largely forsaken traditional professional infantry in favor of a combination of light skirmishing troops and elite formations. He believed strongly that a superior missile force could push the Maure into attacking better-armed melee troops which would ultimately be their downfall. As a result, most of our force was composed of poor Numidian tribesmen, Sardinian mercenaries and levies, and levies from the Greek population of Cyrenaeica. Some lightly-armed Garamantines and Balearic infantry provided a versatile force capable of skirmishing or fighting hand-to-hand, but the best of our men were Bomilcar's own heavy Sacred Band cavalry guards, a unit of mixed-breed veteran elites, and the phalanx I led.




It seemed impossible that we could lose to the Maure defenders, most of whom weren't Maure at all. A bare three thousand of the western tribesmen remained in charge of the fortress, although the scouts said a powerful force of two thousand of their better cavalry had been pulled in from solidifying their control of the caravan routes. But the garrison commander, one Elaz of Mala, had purchased with coin and promises the services of large numbers of mercenaries, allied tribesman and Gaetulians, fighting with spear and javelin, and gathered them all together into the fortress, no doubt looking for every man who could carry a weapon and be persuaded to try and stem our advance. Still, the fortress, which was not in itself very formidable, held only twenty thousand lightly-armed men, of which the Maure were the best. Bomilcar had brought forty thousand men, his entire command, and some of us were the best troops in Africa.



The walls did provide the defenders with excellent cover from our missile troops as the assault began. Very few of the enemy died to javelins or Sardinian arrows before the engines reached the walls, while the advantage of height allowed their own javelins to kill many of the men accompanying the siege engines.

But these were generally light troops, and though thousands of javelins had been thrown, we assumed the missiles of the enemy, which we feared more than any other of their weapons at the start of the battle, had done insignificant damage.

The Maure horse sallied out of the east gate as we approached, throwing their javelins in amongst the Greek levies and killing a good number of them, but they fled the approach of more light-armed troops. I have to admit, I assumed he was doing the smart thing and escaping into the desert. If he had learned the region well, he had a good chance of reaching Mauretania, for we had not attempted to seize permanent control of the water supplies on our march south.

The southernmost ram was the first to break the defensive wall, where most of our allied Numidians and a few Sardinians were stationed, and they rushed into the breach. Mixed-blood cavalry pressed forward too, instructed to break into undefended sections of the trading post to confuse and demoralize the defenders. But the attackers soon learned that only the spearmen most willing to fight in melee had loosed their javelins, and as our troops followed orders and assaulted them most vigorously, Gaetulians unleashed their own javelins from close range, which proved deadly to both horse and man.

Still, the great weight of our numbers pressed the defenders sorely, and even when the Gaetulians charged forward after expending their javelins, they failed to press hard enough to link up with the other defenders at the southern breach.

Similar scenes were playing out in the central breach, where Bomilcar had stationed the Garamantines and the heavily-armored veteran mixed-bloods. The elites were the first into the breach, followed by the Garamantines. But the unarmored allies were virtually destroyed by the javelin volleys that greeted them. The mixed-bloods, however, were protected by armor, helmet, and the vulnerable bodies of their allies.

When the gate itself fell, it became obvious that there were too few defenders to repeat the same tactics all along the wall. The Maure threw their own javelins in support of their spearmen at the gate, but the Baelearic contingent there entered the trading post with haste, and I ordered Greek Akontistai to cover their backs in loose formation, and soon the Maure had to deal with Greeks and Sardinians who had finally recovered from the enemy's sally and crushed their section of the wall.

[Javelins gather kills at the first and southernmost breach in the wall.]


[The only thing more vulnerable to a javelin than a Garamantine formation is a Garamantine formation with its backs to you.]


[Note the spear-armed skirmishers charging after they run out of javelins.]


[Light troops occupy the Maure infantry.]

After all of our infantry save my own pikeman were engaged within the walls, the enemy commander surprised me, and presumably Bomilcar, by returning to the battle with a vengeance. Their sturdy horses, so used to the desert sands, charged to the command area before the Sacred Band could build up sufficient momentum to respond in kind. Several of the Sacred Band were killed outright in the initial charge, but the heavily armored bodyguards are not chosen for their cowardice, and the cavalry exchange bogged down into a messy melee.

[My Libyan General had been running around for a bit, but like most of my favorite bodyguard units, they have excellent stamina.]


[Bomilcar himself is isolated from his bodyguards in the melee, which is appropriate since I was trying to kill him in particular.]


[But he proved to be a doughty fighter, as did his bodyguards.]

With all of the high-ranking officers back in the command area, where it was supposed to be safe, under assault by the Maure horse, control of the battle, such as it was, devolved onto me for no other reason than I was the only Carthaginian officer the messengers could reach without venturing into a calvary battle. The defenders were fighting hard, no doubt of it. Certainly we would have accepted the surrender of the Gaetulians, after all, taxation of their people and trade with them and the peoples they border is the only reason to control Tuat other than transit through the desert. But somehow the Maure must have convinced them otherwise, for their defenders fought for every inch of ground.

But the despite the weight of our assault, despite the valor of our attackers, the defenders gave ground but they wouldn't break. By the south breach in particular, the runner constantly reported a near-breakthrough, without ever actually delivering good news. At the center breach, the situation was worse. Our Garamantines had been slaughtered and the elite mixed-bloods stood back-to-back, straining to hold their ground and pin the units surrounding them to prevent them reinforcing other areas of attack.

I led my own unit carefully into the city, instructing them to discard their pikes and use swords only, guarding the back of the formation by refusing to leave the walls of the city. I intended to form an implacable force the defenders couldn't move, and I was also slowed by sending out orders to continue pressing the attack along all fronts.

This proved disastrous at the northern breach, where wave after wave of lightly-armed Greeks and Sardinians fell before the experienced blades of the Maure until, shockingly, most of them were simply dead. The Maure released their remaining javelins at my own men, but killed few and generally accomplished little more than denting armor. Still, I feared the attack of these tribesman, mindful of the rumors they'd broken similar formations before.

[The press at the southern breach.]






[Back-to-back.]


[The Maure slaughter the light troops at the northern breach and press in on the african pikemen and supporting troops.]

I was preparing to brief Bomilcar, whose men had appeared to drive off the Maure horse, when they wheeled unexpectedly and returned to charge in a second time. I was shocked at their tenacity in the face of heavy casualties, and also surprised that Bomilcar's men fell for the same trick twice in a row. I hope I would have been more aware, but Bomilcar may have been so focused on recovering control of army that he couldn't spare the attention for the 'retreating' enemy.

It seemed the second charge, too, would fail, as once again the armored bodyguard seemed to get the better of the melee, until the defenders seemed to slip below some necessary accumulation of mass, and the Sacred Band's formation broke. I redoubled my efforts to maintain contact with the other units of the army. But the southern breach was far away, the elite mixed-bloods were surrounded, and the light troops around the northern breach had fled. In effect I controlled little more than the eastern gate to Tuat and had to pray the walls kept the sight of Bomilcar's flight from breaking the morale of the men.

[The second charge.]


[Bomilcar's bodyguard collapses.]




[The escaping general is caught and killed]

The gods did not answer my prayers. The light troops under my direct command had finally managed to break the enemy men engaged with the elite half-bloods, but they fled in turn the advancing Maure engaged with my right, and just like that half my command fled into the desert.

The southern breach too, so long promising a breakthrough, crumbled in the face of sheer tenacity and determination on the part of the defenders, surrendering or fleeing despite outnumbered the defenders.

With Bomilcar gone and the army in a full rout, I had only my own unit and the Liby-Phoenicians around me, with the Maure pressing hard on my right, and an unknown number of enemies soon to arrive from other parts of the battlefield.

But we held strong to the walls. More than a few of my men wanted to run and head into the desert, but I judged that a slow death. We would hold our position along the wall, trust to our arms and armor. And die, or not, at the whim of the gods.

[The attack on the southernmost breach, as it appeared the defenders would finally break.]


[Greek troops fleeing from the slaughter at the northern breach.]


[Carthaginian units fleeing from the southern bearch. Note the thin line of men with no back ranks who held them.]


[The light troops in the center ignore Captain Gisgo and flee through his own elite africans.]


[But even as the rest of the army flees, the Liby-Phoenician Elite move to halt the Maure infantry.]

I kept my men in rigid formation and the vaunted Maure infantry began to founder, if only because their sword arms were so tired. My own men stood toe-to-toe with them, matching their greater skill with fresher bodies. Enemy reinforcements, presumably from the collapse fronts at the southern breach, tried to press into the gate, but my men there threw them back with ease.The mixed-bloods pushed forward, so determined to finish the job that they pressed the fearsome Maure back.

Until the horse returned. Not many still lived. Some dozens, perhaps. But they trotted in through the central breach and formed up along the wall for a textbook charge. And charge they did, with lowered lances, into the backs of the surviving mixed-bloods. But their horses were exhausted, trembling and breathing hard. And the veteran mixed-bloods had fought back-to-back for hours. They feared little now.

Three times the enemy horse charged, the villains who had executed our leader. Each time the lances lowered, but their mounts were slower. On the last charge, I personally saw three horses drop of exhaustion. Finally, I ordered my men to surge forward, and we surrounded the dismounting cavalry men, and finished them.

Not long after, perhaps a dozen Maure slipped farther into the city, and for a brief moment we were no longer under attack. I had no idea if more enemies, having vanquished the rest of our army, would return. But I didn't intend to wait for them. Ordering the last two units of Bomilcar's vast host into marching formation, I ordered us to head for the spring at the center of the city, where we could pour water over our bodies, save ourselves from heat-death, and rest until any surviving Maure showed themselves or abandoned the city.

[The Liby-Phoenicians pressing the last Maure infantry.]


[The Maure horse form up to charge the engaged Liby-Phoenicians.]


[They hit the enemy in the back.]


[And again.]


[And again. But it isn't enough.]


[The east wall of the fortress of Tuat.]




[The last two Carthaginian units march through the streets of the trading post.]

Over the next few days, I reorganized the shattered remnants of Bomilcar's army. Many of the lighter troops survived for a day or two in the desert before returning out of desperation or hearing we held the trading post. Some few recovered from their wounds. An embarrassing number appeared from the warehouses and alleyways where they'd fled after throwing their weapons down and surrendering.

But our leader would not return. Bomilcar and his entire entourage were found dead, their blood vanishing into the desert sands. I set about repairing at least the facade of the fort's defense, and sent reports north to Numidia and east to Garama:


[I know a lot of them ran off or 'died' while routing, but dang, good healers.]


[Details of the heroic defenders. Guess which spearmen fought the Liby-Phoenicians head-on?]

"...and as a result, I now command the Carthaginian forces at Tuat. I was not privy to Bomilcar's private councils, and do not know his long-term plans. Fleeing Gaetulians or Maure destroyed his command tent, and so I ask you, my lord, what should I do?"

***

[Excerpt of a letter from Aegicoros of Cyrene, Commander of Carthaginian forces in Greater Africa (Numidia)]

...and thus you must realize that all fault for the bloody battle lies with the dead Bomilcar, and praise for the capture of Tuat falls to you, and the men you led. The Maure must now fortify their southern flank, and set watchers to the mountains there at great cost. And we no longer need fear armies suddenly appearing out of the desert.

But this will be a long war, one in which they will be ground down in time. The key to our success is, ultimately, the defense of our core African possessions. For the sea will ever provide money and even mercenaries, but it is Africans loyal to our cause that allow us empire.

Your orders are simple. Set whatever guard you feel is appropriate to the town, and march north to join me on campaign. I need reliable officers by me, and you are too valuable to waste in the desert. Together, we can accomplish much.

Send your reply with probably marching dates,
Commander Aegicoros.

[Excerpt of a letter from Akbar, Carthaginian governor of Garama]

...although the outcome was unfortunate, you must rally your men and impress upon them your authority as Carthage's new commander of your army.

In light of these events, I will send a team of administrators from Garama to take control of Tuat. You need not anticipate their arrival, but instead leave sufficient light troops to hold the fort against light Gaetulian opposition.

You yourself must continue Bomilcar's vital mission, a strike at the heart of Mauretania, their Atlantic province. They will expect assault from the sea, but an army approaching from the south will take the rural peoples and small cities by surprise. I expect an officer of your caliber could take Sala with ease and find himself suddenly among the upper echelon of our great city after capturing whatever wealth you find there.

Continue in defense of our great city and I will continue to support you,
Akbar, governor in Garama.

[Excerpt of a letter from Chryses, member of the 42, head of the central irrigation district of Garama, Guardian of the Royal Tombs.]

My dear Gisgo,

You did not write to me, but I took the liberty of examining the letter you wrote to "the high Carthaginian authority or military commander for the settled southerners" before my men passed it on to good Akbar.

No doubt you have heard from him or will be hearing from him soon. Understand that I am not in rebellion against Carthage. I am a loyal ally of your fair city, and a respected man here in Garama. As you may or may not know, we recently drove out a Maure-backed pretender to our throne. Currently a council of important men, similar to your own city's government, rules Garama in alliance with Carthage. I am one of those men.

Your plight speaks to me, for I understand the harshness and loneliness of the desert. Certainly you wish to leave as soon as possible, to continue to fight for your great city. But I must advise you otherwise. I have good reason to do so, but my interests coincide with your own.

Perhaps other commanders will seek to usurp your troops. Akbar will likely find whatever excuse he deems most convincing to make sure your leadership core leaves Tuat. This is for the simple reason that he will wish to extract wealth from the desert regions as he has failed to do so here. We in Garama pay our tribute but do not allow ourselves to be pillaged.

As you no doubt know more than I, money talks. And no where does it talk more than Carthage. If Bomilcar's army was so savaged, take command and stay where you are. Find away to win over the Gaetulians. Take control of the area, and use the region's meager trade to make yourself a minor noble when you return to your city by virtue of gold. This is the best outcome for your family, and your future progeny. And it is the best outcome for me, as I can advise you on trade and make money with you without suffering the indignities and demands of Akbar, who would restrict me only to the canals and fields of Garama...

[MisterFred]

We've caught up to where I am in the campaign, so I don't have any prep work (edited screenshots or partially written chapters) left. This means future updates may be slower, and will probaby be (even less) regular. However... happy bonus!:

I've always liked those text-book maps that show the approximate route of general's campaigns during a war. They remind me of the greater regions involved than just the battlefields and that armies meet with a recent history, well-supplied or possibly desperate, not simply warped-in Shogun Total War style. So I made a couple that bring us to about where the campaign and story is now. Before you click on the little buttons that reveal them, I should mention that there are a few problems with the maps I made. First, you'll quickly see my picture editing skills are not what one calls top-notch. Apologies, but the origin of these pictures are just me playing around with paint and seeing what they'd look like, so that's pretty much what we're getting.

Second, they're historically inaccurate. Now I'll remind readers again that I have no expert knowledge of Maure, Iberian, Carthaginian, or any other ancient culture. That caveat continues for everything associated with the AAR. I mis-placed a few cities on both maps, although it works out fine in terms of where they are in relation to each other. Also, picking a satellite photo to use presented some problems. Some experts (geologists, archaeologists, historians, etc.) think the Sahara region was a bit wetter two thousand years ago, and that the desert proper didn't extend as far north, and thus present-day satellite photos will not only have minor inaccuracies on the coasts, but some regional inaccuracies in terms of climate. Some experts disagree, arguing that the climate in the region is little changed in essential characteristics from the ancient era, although humans may have wrought some changes like deforestation, draining the aquifer the Garamantes relied on, etc. In any case, I wanted something a little, well, greener, than most satellite photos of the North Africa, in part to emphasize the fact that much of the area was a famously rich agricultural region in the ancient world, and is still fertile today. Sure, photos of brown land are often rich farmlands, but they don't look it next to the Sahara. So I eventually settled on a satellite photo of flooding in the North Africa region after unusually heavy rains, which looked better to me than anything else I could easily find on the NASA website. So if it looks a little different, that's why.

The other image I simply got from a Google search and included because it didn't have modern cities.

The Northern Campaigns [The invasion of the east by the Army of Mauretania under Stenu and Tarkun of Siga, and Carthaginian reactions]:

The Southern Campaigns [And also events in the west after the Army of Mauretania marched east under Stenu]:

[SlickNicaG69]

Why do your Family Members look like European generals as opposed to African generals??...

[Brave Brave Sir Robin]

He is playing as Lusotann.

[Ghaust the Moor]

I like the maps Misterfred. I prefer the second on however as it ties in well with the them of the AAR. Don't worry we won't hurt you too bad if you don't update ;)

[gamegeek2]

Need to catch up...

[MisterFred]

by Ti Sagun

[Ch. 17]

The march north from Sala was an uncomfortable affair. Not physically, of course. The Second Army was in no hurry, and I was more than used to traveling by horseback. I was not used to being on march with my wife. Not only did she insist on accompanying the army back north, she also refused a carriage or even a horse. She marched, on foot, with the rank and file of all people. I would call it intolerable, but as I utterly failed to change Lina’s course, I found that I could in fact be forced to tolerate the situation.

The well-born officers watched me when they thought I wasn’t looking, trying to decide if I was less of a man to let such a thing continue, a puppet to my wife, or if we were in fact above all social convention. The soldiers themselves had decided. Lina was a legend in the flesh to them, and her continued presence in their ranks, spending a day with each unit in turn, had the entire army in a state of adulation. She was above law or custom, a primal force to whom the rules simply didn’t apply. Every day I went without making the slightest public effort to get her to resume more ladylike behavior confirmed the notion. And every day I swallowed my manly pride and rode as I normally would, seemingly oblivious to her presence on foot. And every evening I swallowed my tongue as Lina belted on her sword in camp and took dinner with the common soldiers and suffered the stares of my peers in silence.

I suffered this because Lina was, on the one hand, my wife. And on the other, she was Lina. I was included in the story, the object to be saved. In any good love story, both characters are noble and good. Lina played the goddess, but I was also idealized, perceived flaws falling away, the great leader of his people for which the main character would suffer and risk so much. And I suffered because I had no choice. Lina would never submit to a lesser role, she could taste the reverence the army had for her. To force her would shatter the illusion, make her in one instant a mortal woman and myself an object of hate.

Most of our scant time alone together was spent on her favorite subject, politics.

“You have to agree, Karbalos did a fantastic job in Siga, especially the surrounding countryside. Even now, Hamalcar controls little more than the city itself, if reports are to be believed. This idea of Mauretania is truly popular out there.” Lina poked around my tent, looking for quality wine or who knows what. Yes, Karbalos had done wonders in Siga. But he had also been Lina’s man in the end, supporting Stenu’s reckless break with the Lusotann over my objections and ensuring the Utrana got more than their fair share of confiscated Carthaginian estates to dole out as patronage. More than that, I thought he had been beholden to me. I’d sent him with Stenu to watch over the young general.

“Well, speak up, have you thought about who will be the next governor in Siga? You’ve insisted so often that the army spend only a month to resupply and recruit in Lixus before heading east to evict Hamalcar, I nearly think you intend to take the city yourself.”

“I think not.” I smiled at that. Oh, I wanted to. I wanted to march with the army east. To conquer gloriously again, just as I’d bested the Carthaginians outside of Lixus with the first Army of Mauretania, when no one thought it possible. But Mauretania couldn’t afford it. No one else came close to the network of contacts and bonds of loyalty I held over Atlantic Maure. Not even Lina. She’d be swallowed by jealousies and the fallout of her plots within a year. Sala and Lixus both called me leader, and the chieftains and matriarchs of southern Mauretania had learned to trust or obey me. I wanted to march to glory, but doing so meant risking the tenuous unity I’d built in Atlantic Maure.

“Well you must have someone in mind.” Lina pretended to be exasperated. “Someone with a steady hand.” There, she struck at the heart of the matter. I didn’t have a good idea who to set in place over Siga. My contacts across the mountains suggested regaining control over the province wouldn’t be hard. The rural notables wouldn’t antagonize Carthage with Hamalcar on their doorstep, but they’d been happy with Karbalos’ policies. They’d again enthusiastically support a Mauretanian occupation of Siga on the same terms.

Finally, I turned to Lina, ready with my answer. “When I have decided on my choice, I promise I shall let you know.” Let her assume I had a good list of candidates. That all the men I trusted with real ability hadn’t already been sent with the first Army of Mauretania or put into important positions in Atlantic Maure. In any case, I had no intention of finalizing a candidate until the Second Army was about to march east. I didn’t need to give Lina time to corrupt this one, like she’d gotten to Karbalos.

“Well you shouldn’t take too long about it. It’s an important position, you know. We might have to declare Siga the capital again, like Stenu did, if that farce brings us more support from the warriors of the eastern Maure.” Not that Karbalos or the other men Lina brought into her service thought of themselves as corrupted. Lina did an excellent job of using our marriage to convince them that my goals and hers were one and the same. But that was only the case most of the time.

“I’m well aware, my dear. Now, perhaps tonight…” I gestured towards my cot.

Lina looked at me with mild pity. “Same as last night, my dear. Warrior goddesses don’t get taken by big manly men with a bunch of grunting and hollering going on. And you still need to sleep in the big tent of authority. I still need to be one of the people. Gods, I can’t wait for my bed in Lixus.”

Lina stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me. I felt my need to be close to her satisfied and my lust enflamed at the same time. Strange that this Lina, sword belted around her waist and dirty from the march, was just as lovely as the perfumed version.

And then she was gone, to sleep on the ground, privacy ensured by only two short sticks and a blanket, the meanest of tents, with some unit or other she hadn’t favored recently. I growled unhappily, and tried to turn my mind to more productive matters.

Melman proved to be another problem. A fine horseman, certainly, and not without intellect, but he didn’t have the discipline or patience to run an army. The details escaped him. He read quartermaster’s reports while expecting it was someone else’s job to make sure they continued to provide good news. He viewed officers as interchangeable cogs, as if the rank brought ability rather than the reverse.

Lina’s man Pintamos effectively ran the army, although Melman was oblivious to this. At least the man seemed capable enough on the march. I stood back and watched while the days passed by. At first I’d wanted to make sure I hadn’t made a mistake in continuing to back Melman, willing to accept his claim that rain and Carthaginian patrols had delayed his rendezvous with the army. Although some of his men told me in secret that it was only Melman’s fear of Carthaginian ambush that forced him to proceed with caution. Now, I was simply trying to figure out how to salvage the situation without wasting Melman’s considerable loyalty to me.

It seemed likely I’d have to turn to Pintamos in some fashion. Oh, he’d done everything right. He officially transferred authority over the army to me immediately after the victory outside of Sala. He came to me privately on the pretext of formally introducing himself. I’d interacted with him briefly before, of course, but he’d been appointed by one of the southern chieftains and wanted to make a point of declaring his loyalty to me personally as the head of Mauretania. He occasionally let his face express distaste when we saw Lina amongst the men, when the rank and file weren’t in a position to see him. But I could tell it was an act. There would be no need for a formal relationship between us if Lina hadn’t elevated his status. His ‘I was just following the orders of nobility above my status’ act when it came to Lina’s charade was hardly believable. Pintamos’ confidence was rising, and it was rising along with Lina’s popularity with the men. Still, the man knew the forms. And if one has to deal with politically flexible men, let them be competent military officers beholden to your wife.

Finally, we reached Lixus. The army had little time to celebrate its victory, although a number of people with ties to Sala sent gifts, as it made itself ready to march east. After greeting the right notables and reestablishing myself as the political center of the city, I promptly disappeared for a few days. Lina had returned to our house, once again the perfumed noble lady, but for a few nights at least, neither of us wanted anything more than to be simply man and woman, together in love.

***

[Lina Utrana Sagun]

After two days of bliss, enjoying having Ti all to myself and throwing aside other concerns, I turned my hand back to politics and made sure my affairs were in order. Several projects were at critical stages, and despite the deceptive lull in the war with Carthage, now was a crucial time for shaping the future. I was investing a considerable portion of Utrana’s resources in my projects, and it would not do to have them fall part now.

A cool evening breeze comforted me on the third day back in Lixus. I felt energized, a combination of the physical resilience built up from hard days marching and hard nights sleeping on the ground and the luxury of rich meals, idle hours, and comfortable sleep I’d enjoyed over the last few days.

Sanion, my escort, pounded on the door of the small residence I’d owned until very recently. The residence was not impressive as such things go, but it was in an upscale area of town and couldn’t be described as either a hut or an apartment in a larger building. Socially, that made a very important distinction. The resident was neither a renter nor a prosperous tradesperson who needed to live near their interests. If not one of the city’s notables who needed to awe with the grandeur of their home, the resident was nevertheless someone of distinction.

Pintamos himself opened his door. Sanion cleared his throat to prepare to introduce himself and then me, as he would to a house slave or on a formal occasion, but I interrupted him before he could get started. I wanted to keep things on an informal basis. “The house is acceptable, I hope, Pintamos?”

“It is what I expected, which largely pleases me. Do come in.”

I entered with Sanion, and took a seat when Pintamos gestured to one. He brought wine and fruit from a nearby table, where they had been waiting. I had sent a messenger to tell him we were coming earlier in the day. Only one servant peeked at us from around a corner. “This is Sanion, my cousin, a respected member of House Utrana.”

Sanion rose, and embraced Pintamos. “I am most pleased to meet you, young Sanion. I believe I saw you riding a painted horse earlier today.”

“Er, yes…”

“You managed to get out and see Haroon work the boys, then?” I was pleased. Hopefully he could give me a second opinion on Haroon’s training.

“They looked ready for war.” Pintamos might as well have been asking me a question. Which was understandable, as one of the top officers in the Second Army, it ought to surprise Pintamos to see men training for battle that he’d never heard of.

“Haroon is a Lusotann whose masters lost the political battles in Iberia. I hired him to train bodyguards for the more martial Utrana youth. Men who might one day lead armies.” The shock on Sanion’s face was as clear to Pintamos as it was to me. I don’t know if he hadn’t thought beyond commanding a strong cavalry arm or if Sanion just didn’t expect me to admit my plans for him, but the reaction was most welcome. It showed Pintamos that Sanion was wholly mine, which in some respects made Pintamos, a negotiated ally, a step above Sanion. It is much easier to get a man to accept an apprentice than it is an equal partner.

“Sanion will not be leaving Lixus with the Second Army. He will follow soon after, as reinforcements Ti will either request of me after hearing of the trained men, or will grudgingly accept if it is necessary I offer them. If there is one thing Ti never turns down, it is more Maure to fight his wars.”

“His wars?” Pintamos wore a half-smile, one that seemed to indicate he’d caught me in a bit of judicious word play.

I rolled my eyes. “As he sees them.” Sanion was quiet, still processing the implied marching orders and what they meant for him.

Pintamos was thinking along much the same lines, “and shall I continue to be attached to the Second Army?” He sounded somewhat frustrated that he hadn’t earned command of the army himself.

Well for that matter, so was I. I had no more desire to live with the pig-headed Melman, but Ti had become depressingly stubborn regarding the matter. I didn’t discuss the problem with Pintamos, of course. Instead, I reminded him that he was not simply a soldier to be ordered around, but a thinking force to be reckoned with. Some men work better when they have clear orders, others needed to know that they were choosing a path in their own interest. Pintamos was one of the latter. “Well that’s up to you. You have the residence here in Lixus, and are already assured of Utrana’s gratitude. If you want to avoid further risk and combat, and stay here in the city as my military advisor, that will always be an option for you.” Retirement, in essence. Sanion attempted to school his features, but his very blank face revealed he thought that would be the coward’s choice. “If you want to continue with the Second Army, I’m certain Ti will ensure you are made second-in-command to Melman. He seemed impressed with your professionalism on the march north, and I can pressure him on that if he doesn’t do so on his own.”

Pintamos considered without responding. Sanion stayed silent as well, either knowing it wasn’t his time to speak or simply enjoying watching me work. "The real question is what will happen after Siga is retaken. Speaking of which, is that as inevitable as Ti seems to think it is?”

Pintamos nodded without having to really think about it. “Yes, assuming the Carthaginians don’t send considerable reinforcements by sea. The surrounding population supports us, so Hamalcar can’t raise local troops. Our last reliable report from the east said that the Army of Mauretania under Tarkun survived its defeat at the hands of the Numidians and was marching west once again behind the coastal range. The Army of Mauretania will attract any reinforcing troops that might otherwise have gone to Hamalcar.”

The affirmation did not reassure me. Mauretania had placed so much hope in Stenu that his death seemed to overshadow the survival of his army.

Pintamos continued. “As for me, I think I am best suited to continued service in the army, if you think that is wise.” Meaning, if I would ensure his career continues to advance.

“Oh, that is excellent news.” I clapped my hands. “Why, I suspect you’ll be in command of the Second Army by the time it leaves Siga.” Pintamos and Sanion both looked interested. “It will probably halt for news and reinforcements while Melman installs himself as governor of Siga, of course.” If only the stupid turd could somehow get himself killed in battle. I suspected he wasn’t brave enough for that. I rolled my eyes at Sanion and Pintamos’ surprise. Especially Pintamos, I’d assumed the guards he set on Ti’s tent would have told him about my careful prompting of Ti on the matter, emphasizing how ‘reliable’ the governor would have to be. Reliable to Ti was code for ‘loyal’, not ‘competent.’

“Sanion should reach Siga before the Second Army marches east to meet up with Tarkun, leading his company of ‘volunteers.’” Both men noticed I made no mention of the very real possibility that Tarkun and the Army of Mauretania may have been annihilated by that point. “You already have the respect of the men for following me south, Pintamos. I hope the respect of the officers will come to you as they realize you will effectively be leading the army to Siga.” Pintamos nodded, pleased. He expected the same thing.

“Sanion will have no official rank and position, but you must set him above the other officers when he joins you. He must be seen as the most important noble in the army, second to you only because you were appointed above him by my darling Ti.” Now Pintamos frowned. He failed to see how this plan would benefit him, his innate caution noting a possible growing irrelevance. Glancing at Sanion, he seemed merely pleased. I hoped he gave more thought to how such a thing could be made possible. “Sanion, dear, how do you think it would be best for Pintamos to do this?”

“Hmmm.” Silence followed, as both men thought and I watched them closely. “It seems simple enough,” Sanion hesitated, then continued with greater confidence, “if Pintamos has command of the army, he need only accept my men into the army, then set other units underneath us, for simple purposes such as foraging, and the like. Along the march, he can set me above all the other officers in one way or another until by habit they obey commands originating from me, rather than simply passed through me.” It seemed a good enough plan, much as I expected. I remained silent. My recent experience notwithstanding, I didn’t truly understand how any army worked among the captains and generals. And Pintamos still seemed conflicted. “Maybe if…”

Pintamos seemed to make a decision, then interrupted Sanion. “That will not be enough. Under your plan, your authority would be ephemeral. Subject to destruction by ambitious captains.” Pintamos pointed at me. “You mean to do more than simply raise Sanion to a position of power. You’re setting a precedent for all of Utrana. That where their painted horses ride, so goes the heart of Mauretania.” I grinned, exhilarated. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

“Precisely.”

The conversation, stopped unexpectedly, as Sanion and I waited for Pintamos to continue. He stood instead, suddenly uneasy. The house girl, knowing what was good for her, had long since retreated out of hearing range. Pintamos tracked her down anyway, making sure she left the house. Not for any practical purpose, but to brace himself for a decision he wanted to make without witnesses. Sanion wanted to stand and reassure him, or help him, but I motioned the young man back down and took another sip of the wine I’d stocked Pintamos’ house with.

Finally Pintamos rejoined us, once again seemingly at ease with himself. “An example will need to be made. Multiple examples, actually. First, Sanion will have to give direct orders to one or more of the captains. We’ll find a hot head. I trust you can be deliberately rude.” Pintamos nodded at Sanion without waiting for him to respond. “The first time it will be an order that came through me, delivered by Sanion, whether or not the captain knows it. When one of them refuses without official confirmation, I’ll have him flogged for refusal to obey a superior officer. Not publically, but not secretly, either. But ambiguous, see, as if the flogging might be because he disobeyed an order that originated from me.

“The second incident will be harder. Sanion will give a direct order, something that contradicts one given by me. Perhaps a foraging party will be sent out with strict orders to rendezvous at a specific place and time. Sanion will come across them on some errand, and give them an order which will cause them to be late, or some such thing, then leave. They’ll be stuck. Obey an obviously ill-considered command idly given, or obey a direct and important order by me.”

“I’ll have to reprimand Sanion, of course, for giving an order which contradicted mine.” This didn’t seem right, but then, Pintamos didn’t seem finished. He was swirling the wine around in his cup, looking at it. “But hopefully this will be the same officer as before. I’ll give some fine speech, publically, to the entire army. About discipline, and loyalty, and obedience to their superiors. And have the officer who disobeyed Sanion executed.” Pintamos nodded, playing the scene over in his head.

Sanion’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped. I was surprised myself. I’d had people killed of course, more than once. But always criminals or someone who posed a threat to Mauretania. “Could it be done another way?”

“Oh, certainly. Either way, the oracles and seers will be bribed to add religious reverence to the volunteer unit as protectors, avatars of a father god, something like that."

"Or a warrior goddess."

Pintamos nodded, a little wary. "Yes, that will work as well. Every army carries a few flexible priests for similar tasks, and predictions of victory. If Sanion is particularly successful, if the officers fall in line, this army will begin to take orders from him. But a death, for essentially obeying an order from the head of the army, the death of a high officer, a captain. This will send shockwaves beyond just the Second Army. It will set a monstrously strong precedent.

“That the orders of an Utrana must never be disobeyed, unless contradicted by a superior officer in person, not simply in intent. And punishment by death must always be sanctioned by the priests in an army, lest the men get restless. An execution will mean sanctity to the Utrana name by association. I will be sorely upset, morose, even helpless, at the event, underscoring the power of an Utrana command. I make some minor action to ensure I am still recognized as the head of the army, and Sanion will submit to that, so that he cannot be accused of seizing power by death and deceit. And that too, will strengthen the play.

“The rumors will spread. How could they not? And therein will lie the final test. Does an outside power, outraged at what I’ve let happen, reduce Sanion or myself? Can some governor, can Ti Sagun reach from Atlantic Maure and bring down Sanion, strip him of his power and his men? If they do not do this, do not humble your family against your direct will, then when other Utrana ride forth, they will be obeyed without question by all but the generals. And perhaps even them.” Pintamos looked up from his cup. “I will do this, if you ask it of me.”

It could work. A bold plan. A heady plan. I knocked back the last of my wine. A bitter beginning, but with an aftertaste so sweet. I looked at Sanion. He was scared, and right to be so. This plan was not without risk to him. But in his fear he looked to me to lead. Could I do this? Doom an innocent man I had not met, who fought for Mauretania? If it worked…

“Do this, then. Make the Utrana royalty by right of command.” I looked at Sanion. “You will ride forth under a new banner. An image of a woman, of the dutiful wife.” He nodded in obedience. I stood and turned to Pintamos, offering him my hand. “And you, if you can pull this off, will not just be thanked by the Utrana. You and your family will be beloved of my house.” Pintamos took my hand, meeting my eyes, the lust for power keeping the shame out of his, much as it did mine.

I sat him back down then, and settled in again. Although the main business of the night was over, some trivial details still needed attending to. I eyed Pintamos once more. It would be well to give him a gift, unbidden. One that showed gratitude even before service was rendered, though I was sure it would come. Something to ease his mind about the truth of my generosity to my allies.

“I see, Pintamos, that you have need of a wife. Perhaps you will permit me to fix this minor oversight before you leave Lixus…”

***

Lady Anner Kalah, wife of Kronu Kalah, once one of the most respected noblewomen in Lixus, walked past the window to my beading room. A socialite, still, if a bit unwelcome in most houses of late. A woman I’d looked up to when I was young, newly married, before inheriting the position of Matriarch of the Utrana. A rival, for a short time. Once the most prominent noblewoman in Lixus, as the fickle socialites shunned me and my radical opinions. Until Cardocca met the wrath of a wronged husband and the Lusotann presence in Mauretania vanished in a night of violence. Rich, though in the manner of an urban family, not associated with a great rural clan. Though rumor had it that Kronu was attempting to woo many of the clients that had once looked to Stenu in the eastern hills in an attempt to expand the family’s stagnant fortunes.

I stood up, smiling at my guests: Maler, and Asherah the Phoenician. Putting a musical trill in by voice, “I think our fourth has arrived. Let me greet her and tell the servants to start preparing our lunch.”

I skipped, light on my feet, to the entry hall and opened the door myself before Lady Kalah’s escort could pound on it. There she stood, nervous enough to put a huge smile on my face. “Anner! Darling, come in, you finally made it!” Her escort started forward, then stopped, waiting for me to invite him in so he could mingle with the other servants. “You may wait for your lady out here.” I closed the door as the servant looked around uncomfortably, trying to find a shady spot in the hot street. It was far cooler inside, where a small pool of water helped maintain the morning’s more pleasant temperature.

I hugged Lady Kalah after closing the door before partially releasing my grip and guiding her by the shoulders to the breezy beading room. It was the sort of body language that could only be either exuberantly friendly or dangerously controlling. Fear and hope all rolled up into one ambiguous package. “This is Maler and Asherah. Friends, this is Anner, or Lady Kalah if you prefer.” Lady Kalah smiled carefully as I gently lowered her to her seat. She took in Asherah first, recognizing her immediately. The Phoenician was well-known to the city’s nobility. Maler took a second, but I saw recognition flare in Lady Kalah’s eyes for a split second before her face resumed its neutral composure.

Somewhere along the way Lady Kalah had met Maler, the butcher-woman of no house, with her strong arms and calloused hands. Maler was utterly loyal to me, although she’d never think of it that way if you asked her. She’d taken up a trade when her husband joined Ti’s great levy, becoming one tiny cog in the massive Army of Mauretania, when the city had so few men who could work. Maler’s business thrived and expanded when I took note of her, the day peace-in-name was renewed and trade began again between Mauretania and Lusotann-controlled Iberia. She was one of a handful of ordinary women I’d elevated by taking them into my orbit. Maler seemed to genuinely enjoy the time she spent with me, which I devoutly hoped was true.

Lady Kalah followed the protocol that governed informal gatherings without missing a beat, bowing her head in greeting to Asherah and again, just as low, to Maler. Although her shoulders may have tensed the slightest bit. “Did you bring something to work on? I have extra things and some patterns if you need them.”

“Oh that’s quite alright.” Lady Kalah pulled her beading from the bag she carried with her. She was halfway through a decorative bracelet. Maler shot me another grateful smile. I’d invited her earlier than the other two, pretending they were fashionably late, and gave her a short tutorial on beading and a half-completed tassel, the simplest of patterns. As host, I supplied the beads as a matter of course.

We gossiped for a bit about high society and men. Maler was generally quiet as we talked about other socialites, of course, but she did cause a bit of a titter when she revealed a common acquaintance, probably a customer of hers, was known to faint at the sight of blood.

“Well, now, what are you girls working on? Asherah, I’m surprised to see you using so many browns.”

“Well,” Asheah dipped her head and covered her mouth briefly, as if she was embarrassed, “it’s a locust, actually.”

“A locust? Why, whatever for?” Maler reacted first, genuinely curious. I saw that Lady Kalah noticed the breach in socialite etiquette, as Maler prevented me from following up on the topic I’d opened. Perhaps here might be a chink in her armor.

“It’s going to be a banner, for the captain’s room on one of my ships. It lost sight of land one night last autumn, and the next day a swarm of locusts appeared as if out of nowhere and devoured the sail, if you can believe it. But then the captain, thinking fast, realized the locusts must have come from land and got the crew to rowing for the shore, saving the ship.”

We murmured our appreciation for the captain’s quick thinking, then Lady Kalah decided to make a quick foray to judge the lay of the land. “Is that a… tassle you’re working on, Maler?”

“Oh, yes.” The three of us could almost hear her squelch the follow up: ‘nothing too complicated.’

“And all one color, too.” Not the hint of disapproval in Lady Kalah’s tone. She knew the game well.

“I like green.”

I beamed a smile at Maler. “What do you think you’ll do with it, Maler?”

“Oh, uh… Well I suppose I’ll give it to my son, if he does well in school. I’m sending him to Aratu, one of the very best for reading and writing and other things.”

“That is so sweet.” I made sure the praise was clear in my voice.

“And is that a bracelet you’re working on Anner?” This was obvious, and it was a fantastic piece of work, too, weaving several colors together in a mesmerizing pattern. “Who is it for?”

“Actually, I’m making it for m…” I interrupted Lady Malah before she could say ‘myself.’

“Hmm. Bracelets are terribly out of style, aren’t they?” I said this with a straight face, as I continued working on the bracelet I was crafting. Bracelets were not out of fashion.

This gave Lady Kalah a start, not that she showed it. “Well, I’m sure they will be popular again sooner or later.”

The servants signaled lunch was ready then, and came with food and wine. The beading work slowed to a crawl. Conversation picked up as we finished and eyed another sweet or two.

“May I be honest for a moment?” Asherah seemed to want to bring up a weighty topic.

“Always, my friend.”

“I’m a bit surprised you haven’t asked me about the latest news from Iberia, although I fear some of us may become bored if we turn to politics.” Asherah nodded apologetically to Lady Kalah, rather than Maler, since Asherah is exceptionally perceptive.

“Well perhaps I’ve been relying a bit too much on letters lately. I’m afraid I’m terribly behind on trader’s gossip.”

“Oh! Well, that might mean Ti and Abulos don’t know yet, either.”

“Out with it, what is the news?” I threatened Asherah with a bit of bread dipped in honey.

“The Arsea-Edetani coalition continues to thrive. They’ve raised another army, a respectable one I might add, and have marched off to war again.”

“Against Rome?” I was aghast. “Any temporary success will never last. The Republic’s long wanted to extend its control of the coast.”

“Oh no,” Asherah shook her head to reinforce her statement, “they’ve marched west and laid siege to Baikor.”

I put down the honeyed bread without eating it, surprised. Most of my Iberian contacts were within the Lusotann confederacy, and while I had one in Bocchoris, I had none in Arsae. So I had no inkling such a move was being considered. Ti, man of action, probably would have shot up and paced around the room. But there was nothing to do now, of course, not here in Lixus. I’d have to think for quite some time about what this meant. With luck I could bring it to Ti tomorrow while the news was still fresh, and frame it such a way that the right reaction would be the one Ti decided on. In the meantime, there was no reason not to use this for my current purposes.

“I don’t think they’ll assault the city.” Asherah continued, “not with what happened when that Carthaginian tried. So taking the city is questionable at best. But even if they have to pull back for winter, they’ll probably still assume control of important areas of the countryside and make off with several thousand head of cattle.”

“We may need to send aid.” I’d never actually consider using Mauretania’s resources when it probably didn’t matter to one way or another who was successful in the war. “Don’t you think, Anner?”

“Oh. Well,” Lady Kalah had never paid much attention to politics outside of Lixus. Her last involvement with international affairs was toadying up to the Lusotann during her brief ascendency as the most important woman in Lixus. “It’s certainly something to think about.”

“Leather is always needed in war. Tents, armor, and the like. Maybe declare forced donations of animals from the eastern herdsmen and set the crafters to support our allies.” I wondered aloud, knowing that in addition to the Kalahs’ recent acquisitions in the hills most of their Lixus clients were leatherworkers.

Lady Kalah made no response. Right now she’d be wondering if I knew the Kalah family was heavily reliant on leatherworking and their new eastern investments, then discarding that thought with the realization that of course I knew her family’s business. Immediately followed by wondering if I’d had Asherah bring up the unexpected news on purpose. I hadn’t, of course. Then, incredulity: I couldn’t possibly consider wasting that many resources just to persecute her family, could I? Finally, doubt: I was not known for kindness to my enemies.

“Well, it’s something for the men to think about, anyway.” Asherah looked at me in curiosity. I could grill her later. I kept my voice light and carefree.

And then, a gift: Melar had been gamely keeping up her end of the conversation with the rest of us ladies, and decided international politics would be no different. “Do you know, some time ago, I was wor… walking in the street when I heard some fool yelling at his companion: ‘the Atlantic! The Romans have reached the damned Atlantic! It’s a disaster, is what it is,’ and he kept on like that for awhile. Well I immediately assumed they’d attacked Atlantic Maure. I bought six sacks of grain and hauled them home myself that very night, worried about a siege.”

I’d learned long ago Lady Kalah had good instincts. Certainly one of her best qualities. But as soon as I heard Melar tell her little story, I knew what Lady Kalah was going to do. She was injured, she was scared, and I’d kept her on her toes all day. The best way to put up a show of strength is to bully a weaker member of the herd.

Lady Kalah laughed as if appreciating Melar’s story. “Can you imagine, what it would be like without any contacts or clients at all? If someone were so bereft of importance they might actually think an army could approach Lixus without hearing any rumors warning of its approach?” I thought about letting her build up a head of steam before I cut her off, but I liked Melar and didn’t want to hear any cracks about people who thought a teacher was any substitute for a personal tutor or some such nonsense.

“Actually, I can.” My voice was cold and unforgiving. “I think I remember the Lusotann catching Xanthippos and the Carthaginians by surprise at Lixus.” I smiled as if I’d suddenly remembered protocol and wanted to paper over an unpleasant turn in the conversation. After all, when Lady Kalah felt my next cut I didn’t want her to think it was in defense of Melar. Luckily, my favorite butcher held herself to a hateful gaze in Lady Kalah’s direction.

I stood up, holding the honey-spotted dish I’d been using in front of me. One of the servants waiting politely out of earshot moved forward to take it from me, but I moved it to my other hand, away from her. She stopped, uncertain. “Well that was a lovely meal, I hope you ladies enjoyed it.”

My guests agreed that they did.

“Anner, would you be a dear and grab that plate of olives for me?” Silence descended as Lady Kalah looked up at me in surprise. There were no olives, just left over pits in front of Melar. I saw her run the situation through her head. If this were a socialite party, which had been the form all along, guests would never, ever, be asked to take care of their own dishes. Even if this was a lunch in an ordinary Maure household, the host would take care of all such necessities. But maybe, just maybe I was making this the most informal gathering of friends, like commoners might do, to somehow make her feel small for slighting Melar. Just maybe, I was standing with a used plate in my hand because I was being eccentric, and we were all going to take plates to the kitchen. Maybe, if Lady Kalah refused, I was setting her up to look the fool.

Two instincts came into play: on uncertain ground do not do what they’d expect, and avoid giving offense without purpose. Lady Kalah smiled as if my request was the most normal thing in the world, and picked up the plate of olive pits sitting in front of Melar, who although well off, was the poorest of my guests. I turned as if to follow Lady Kalah to the kitchen, waited for her to take a few hesitant steps, and then sat down. “Oh, not that way. Throw the pits out into the street first.”

Even Asherah, who was so used to following my lead, pulled her lips into an ‘o’ in shock. Even Melar knew something was up, watching the scene tensely, like a cat.

I’d tricked her into the first few steps, and now Lady Kalah was faced with another decision. Would she continue to act as my servant, willingly submitting to the humiliation, or refuse. Asking her to throw the olive pits into the street hinted at more than just a private humiliation without actually being so. It was the sort of detail that made her think about what to do without just acting, exposing her uncertainty and weakness.

The three of us sat and waited, although Melar actually looked sorry for Lady Kalah.

Finally, Lady Kalah decided she was sufficiently scared of me and my earlier threats to ruin her family. She swept to the door and opened it to throw the olive pits into the street even as I signaled the servants to come take the rest of the plates and other debris. Lady Kalah thrust the now empty olive plate towards one of the servants, but the girl, bless her, looked to me first and I shook my head ‘no.’ Face red with fury and shame, Lady Kalah followed the servants to the kitchen, where I heard her throw the plate to break upon the ground. I hoped none of my people cut their feet. She returned to her seat, not saying a word.

I brought out my beading, and started working on it again, soon commenting on the weather. I was the very essence of correctness and hospitality. After all, I needed the taste of fear, humiliation, and potential ruin to fade before I made my pitch to Lady Kalah, wealthy lady of Lixus, wife of Kronu Kalah, of an urban family with no significant extended family, mother of one teenage and one infant daughter, and no sons.

When the time was right, I insisted that I (the dutiful wife), must oversee dinner preparations for Ti, and thanked my guests effusively for coming. I saw the three of them to the door, and then I pretended I could see Lady Kalah’s escort wherever he’d found shade. “Oh, your man looks so comfortable, we positively can’t disturb him. Stay for a few more minutes.” Lady Kalah shot me a look, but stayed.

“What,” she hissed, after the door had closed and we were alone but for the servants, “was that?”

I smiled. “We could become the best of friends, you know. Allies.” This surprised her. She began to say something, but I interrupted her. “For a price.” Lady Kalah disliked bluntness. It is always better to start negotiations off on the right foot. She narrowed her eyes and turned to leave. “And of course, I can stop harassing your husband’s efforts to reach out to Stenu’s former clients. I can even tell the few Utrana I know in the area to give him whatever information they might have on the situation.”

Lady Kalah turned back, considering. If there was anyone she would suffer being humiliated by, it was the most powerful noblewoman in Lixus. Provided that, to the rest of society, she became once again a player and a power to be reckoned with. This was my true bargaining chip. But that would have to be brought up in her preferred fashion, with the subtleties. “I know a man, a good man, of position in the army. I expect great things out of him…”

***

Ti still had not returned from a review of the city’s defenses with Abulos after the normal dinner hour had passed. As I considered what business to take care of that evening, one of the servants came up to me and told me two strange people were at the door. He’d tried to send them away, but apparently the young man insisted he knew me.

Curious, I went to the door. There were, in fact, three people waiting there: a young man in a rough cloak and carrying a sword, a teenage girl in similarly poor clothing, and the girl’s young child, no more than a few weeks old. The young man called out to me before turning to the girl. “Lina! See, I told you this was the right place.”

They didn’t look poor enough to be beggars, and I doubted the man would bring an infant along if he intended to use his sword, so I invited them in. The boy introduced himself, his sister, and his young nephew, yet another Stenu.

“An’ I told my sister how after you came to us bathed in light, you marched right beside us, all the way south. All that way for love. And she agreed it was the most amazing thing she ever heard. An’, well, we want your blessing for Stenu.”

“My blessing?”

The young man’s words rushed forth, as if he desperately wanted to forestall my refusal. “I know we’re supposed to wait for two months, but I just know you’re the one who’s supposed to do it, an’ sis’ didn’t think she could come alone, and when the time comes I’ll be east, see, and wouldn’t be able to come with her…”

After a baby had lived a few months, when it was more likely it would survive, it was customary to take it to a priest of the family’s house gods, or failing that, a local shrine. But I’d never worried overly much about the gods, I was hardly qualified to beseech one for its blessing.

I suddenly realized what the young soldier was asking. He wanted my blessing for the child. I was absolutely shocked. So much so that it showed on my face, and the soldier stopped speaking. I recovered, and gave my warmest smile to the girl. “Of course I will bless your child.” I placed my hand on the soldier’s shoulder, my arm held stiffly in front of me, rather than bent, as another man would to show respect. “I would do the same for the beloved of any man I marched with.” Despite my woman’s dress, he beamed with pride.

I thought desperately, wondering what I would say, what possible symbol I could use to bless the child. But the young man knew what he wanted. He unbuckled his sword-belt and handed it to me. The girl took a deep breath and held her child out as far as she could without making the infant uncomfortable. Acting on instinct, I dipped my hand into the wash basin that sat near the door and wet the child’s forehead.

I spoke loudly but without yelling, as if addressing several people. “Hear me Stenu, new unto this world. I give unto you, for this day and all of your life, three gifts.” Grasping the sword, I pulled it from its sheath, grinding the edge of the metal so that the sword rang with the motion. I touched the flat of the blade gently to the infant’s wet forehead, hoping there was no imperfection in the metal which would cut the baby. “Pride, valor, and fidelity.” I lifted the blade. “Stay true to yourself and these strengths will always be with you. Pride in yourself and your family. Valor in combat and before all the troubles of the world. Fidelity to your loved ones, repaid in turn.” The baby opened its eyes then, and looked directly at me. It was incredibly cute. I smiled, and dropped the formal tone. “And maybe, if you’re lucky, the passion of your namesake, the heart of your uncle, and the beauty of your mother.” Placing my hand on the crown of the child’s head, I kissed its forehead, then sheathed the sword and handed it back to the young man, hoping I’d pleased them.

“Oh, thank you m’lady!” The girl moved forward, and I couldn’t tell if she was going to try and hug me while she was holding the baby or drop to her knees. Luckily little Stenu started to cry, and she decided to nurse him instead.

The brother muttered his thanks, embarrassed about something, and turned to usher his sister out of my door. I wanted to offer them food and rest, as a host should, but the young man suddenly turned and rushed back towards me and fell to his knees. “I promise, I’ll get you a proper gift when I can, something good and fine from back east,” he glanced around nervously, eyeing my expensive possessions. I grabbed his arms and lifted him back up.

“No. You fought with me and gave me back my husband. It is I that owes you.”

The young man fought back tears, thanked me again, and turned to leave with his sister as suddenly as they had arrived. I stood in my doorway to let him see me when he turned to glance back at my house, then went inside and closed the door.

It took me all night to process just what, in fact, had happened that evening. I never fully understood why they decided to seek my blessing.

***

I blessed several more children over the next few weeks, coming up with a surprising number of variations, but generally sticking to virtues somehow associated with the image of the dutiful wife in the form of a warrior goddess. Ti was furious when he found out, insisting that it was sacrilege and that I was committing blasphemy by masquerading as a goddess. I scoffed at his objections, declaring that if the gods were opposed they wouldn’t have sent the young man and his sister to me in the first place. And in any case, I was nowhere near that delusional, which the gods could plainly read in my heart. I continued giving the blessings, though if Ti were around when someone asked I arranged to meet the family in a wooded grove outside the city at night.

The requests seemed to slack off as the Second Army was restricted to camp as it prepared to march east towards Siga. This was a relief, as I needed all the time I could find to arrange the wedding preparations. It was hard to believe little more than a month had passed since we had returned to Lixus in triumph.

I met Pintamos before the ceremony. He was exceedingly happy with me, and with himself for allying with the Utrana. He’d never dreamed of marrying as high as Esme Kalah, especially not if the family in question was wealthy. I decided Pintamos could get used to Lady Anner Kalah on his own. It wasn’t my problem if he needed help handling her.

“Ti finally made it official. I will be second in command of the army, and Melman will get the governorship when we retake Siga.”

“I hope the locals don’t let him actually run anything.”

“Heh. I have a question though.” I glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then nodded. “After all the rest, what happens if we meet up with Tarkun.”

“Combine forces and prosecute the war against the Carthaginians to the best of your ability.” Was Pintamos asking me for military advice?

“No, I mean, who gets the command. Do you want us to,” Pintamos paused, “because he’s not your man.” It was depressingly easy to understand exactly what Pintamos meant.

“Gods, no! If he’s competent, excellent. If not, sideline him if you must.” I looked Pintamos in the eye. “Killing good, loyal Maure will not become a habit, do you understand.”

“Good.” Pintamos more than understood, he was happy about my response. More casually he asked, “have you seen Sanion?”

“He’s around here somewhere.” In addition to the number of Utrana in Pintamos’ half of the wedding party, Sanion was playing the part of Pintamos’ best man.

“I’d better go find him.” I nodded in dismissal and decided to wait before entering the main room. Lady Kalah was the center of the socialites at the moment, and it wouldn’t do for her admirers to gravitate to me just yet.

***

[An excerpt from Thucydorus of Leontini's The History of Africa, Book 12.]

The fourth battle of Siga was as tame as the third. Hamalcar, master tactician that he undoubtedly was, found himself trapped and outnumbered. With a scant 5,000 men in a city with no inner fortress or citadel, even facing as poor a leader as Melman, who commanded the Mauretanian forces, there was no outcome for Hamalcar but surrender or death. The Mauretanian forces numbered over 20,000 and the townspeople offered no support, making the outcome of the affair inevitable.



Other historians, too quick to blame a commander, and lacking experience in the field, criticize Hamalcar for allowing himself to be surrounded. A closer examination reveals the cruel truth that in war, sometimes there are no options, no solution but the favor of the gods. Where could Hamalcar go? To the west were the Maure. To the east was a hostile populace that would slow a retreat and allow those same Maure to catch Hamalcar in the field. To the south was the mountains and the desert, poor supplies meaning certain death for most of Hamalcar's men in the summer. Many paper generals with no experience insist Hamalcar should have made his way out of Siga by sea, but the practical demands of such an operation meant Hamalcar would have had to plan to abandon the city - at that time facing no enemy and and thus almost certainly returing to cries of treason at home - months in advance in order to commandeer sufficient ships to save his army. And what of the day of the battle? The doughty Carthaginian could, one supposes, have captured a fishing ship at least and made his escape. Although even then he would have had to work against the Phoenician population of Siga, who knew full well the Maure were approaching and moved their boats to sea and deprived Hamalcar of their use as a way of declaring their loyalty to the Maure army they rightly believed would capture the city. And what would these critics say of Hamalcar then? He would be shamed, as is proper for any commander who would so callously abandon his own men to their certain deaths merely to save himself.

Timophon argues differently, questioning Hamalcar's energy and dedication in not raising new forces to defend Siga. In saying this, he once again reveals his own ignorance of military affairs. To arm the rabble, Hamalcar would need arms and armor, two resources in short supply. Lacking such equipment, the people would not accept certain death to defend the city in favor of a dominion they wished to see gone. But what of convincing the local warriors? Once again, Timophon shows he knows nothing but the libraries and cities of Hellas. Timophon believes that men in a city are armed, are trained from an early age to defend their polis, and it is to these men generals must turn. Lacking experience, he has never had to ask where the steppe riders that plage Chersonessos come from, or from whence sprung the Lusotann armies that destroyed Carthage's hold on southeast Iberia. In barbarian lands, the strength of the people lie in the countryside, not within a city's walls. To recruit a native army to defend Siga, Hamalcar would have had to control the countryside, an impossible task given the wide expanse of hostile Maure who lived outside the indifferent confines of Siga's Phoenician city walls.

In truth, the whine of ignorant children aside, the great fault for the Carthaginian loss of Siga lies not with Hamalcar, but with Carthage herself. Paralyzed by the campaigns of Stenu in the east, riven by internal politics, and continuing to waste funds trying to dominate Syracuse on Sikel, the city utterly failed to support their experienced general. Reinforcements never came. A fleet to withdraw the army or better yet, hire Iberian mercenaries and properly invade Atlantic Maure never came. In the end it was not Hamalcar that lost the fourth battle of Siga. He had the genious to take the city, and the will to continue if he was but given support, but the flaws of his country and the depth of her struggles foiled all his best laid plans in the end.

A great man to the last, the master tactician refused to abandon his men and fought like a true African lion, a great loss for his home city, which needed more men like him.

Javelins and the strong sword arm of the Maure infantry once again prove an effective combination.




Hamalcar fights to the last, a fearsome foe in combat, even in old age.