The Non-History of Mauretania: A Europa Barbarorum AAR

[Ghaust the Moor]

I'm really liking were your taking this. With all the extra characters and such. For me though, the best part is the politics you've brought into this. I could never reproduce something like this mostly becuase my political knowledge is so limited when it concerns the extra nuances and "Wars" that go on among people involved in politics. Such is the curse of a 10th grader but I still find it rather intresting. I'm loving this AAR and am defenetly following it. Good job

[MisterFred]

by Eseuiku Nertobricoi

[Ch.6]

The Carthaginian pig-dog that had held me prisoner for the past three months tied me up and threw me into a cell three nights before my life took a turn for the better. The Phoenician bastards had patrolled out of Tuat before I could react, killing half my southron companions. I surrendered immediately, knowing we were no match for the heavy cavalry that shouldn't have been there. A little thievery here, learn a bit of the language here, and there is gold to be found in the southlands, not that I will tell anyone else how to get it. They don't know its value there, and it will be my secret. My secret to get my revenge.

Or at least that was the plan before the Semitic goat-#&%(ers took my gold, conscripted the rest of my men, and forced me to rot in the fort-and-trade-post that became my own corner of the underworld. I could hardly protest we were here peacefully. We were scouting for a garrison, and most of us had spears and bloody trinkets taken from dirt-eating Troglodytes.

When he threw me into the cell, I thought Garamites had finally come to trade, and the pig-dog goat-#*(&er knew who I was.

I ran out of water a day later and figured to die a day after that when the stone in front of the hut's door was moved and dark faces shoved their way inside. It was dusk, and a pig-dog in his armor was bleeding to death in the street. One of them said something in a language I didn't recognize. I smiled at the bastard and looked like I didn't want to rip his sword from his hands and cut my bonds. Was he southron? No, the nose wasn't flat and mis-shaped and the hair wasn't curled tightly. Probably ruled out dirt-eating Troglodyte too. Too far west for an Egyptian-Ethiopian mongrel. Dark skin, normal hair, nice sword... Maure. Well the elephant's by the stream, done drinking. Do you want it to come to you, move away, or take a shit and never even notice you were there. If you play it right, you can make it do anything you want.

I spoke a few words in Garamantine, then Numidian, neither of which the dumbasses in the doorway seemed to know. Eventually they found someone who could speak Numidian and led me outside to a man examining his brand new captured stables. I tried not to look gleeful at the sight of the dead pig-dogs. A few Troglodytes and other riff-raff who had arrived for the start of the trading season were being reassured by other Maure, apparently the new warriors meant to stay. Stable-man spoke some hick western Numidian dialect, badly.

"Who are you, and why are you tied up."

"I am Eseuiku, son of the great Gronto, exiled prince of Garama, and I was captured here after being forced to flee Garama for telling my people to throw off their Carthaginian overlords." Well, my name was the truth. Gronto was the name of the king whose tomb I had been caught looting.

Naturally, dung-face didn't believe me. But over the next couple months I managed not to tell him he smelled like dung, too. And I translated for him with the few southrons and troglodytes that came to trade. And I showed him the only sources of water near Tuat to the east and to the south, which he arranged to be patrolled. And I told him of Garam, of the great irrigation works, of the ancient tombs of kings from time immemorial. I was polite and as accomodating as a slave, and dung-face started to trust me.

Tuat was a nowhere piece of nothing, but it was the only nowhere piece-of-nothing with a year-round source of water - well, most years it bubbled up continously - for days of travel in every direction. Everyone stupid enough to cross the desert to the other side came through Tuat.


[Um.... that's a north arrow...]

So the pig-dog goat-lovers wanted it back. And they came to take it back. They came with heavy pikemen, animals dragging their armor along the march; they came with Numidian archers and skirmishers, conscripts of uncertain quality; they came with a unit of Garamantine spearmen, brave fools from my own homeland; they came with heavy cavalry, to keep the rest of the bunch together. Food supplies in Tuat were low, and dung-face was wise enough to be worried about disease with all of his men pulled inside the fortress. I told him the pig-dogs' only possible water supplies were uncertain at best, and they'd accept battle if it was offered. The Maure went off to fight. After making sure I could make it over the southern wall if they lost, I watched from the top of one of the buildings in Tuat, with a few of the Troglodytes still in town.

The Maure kept relatively close formations, but those units spread out in a classic skirmishing fashion. They'd had practice. The Carthaginians wanted to close with their pikes, but their skirmishers would have to prove themselves to force a general melee on the pig-dogs' terms.



I thought at first the Maure were fools for exchanging javelins in close order, but their sheilds held better than I believed, and the intensity of the volleys shook the Numidians and the Garamantines. It wasn't long before those units were near broken and the Maure were moving in to mop them up. Only the pig-dogs' lackey archers kept doing damage. I thought the Maure would leave the pikemen to die of thirst, but the they wanted blood. They wanted the enemy force to disappear, and they wanted no one preventing their ability to forage. With bravery as suicidal as the Garamantine spearmen, they engaged the pikes. The heavy cavalry, incapable of chasing the lighter Maure, couldn't even muster a proper charge in response. Don't bring armored horses to the desert heat, slobbering-idiot pig-dogs.



Untiring, weilding their swords with skill and energy, the Maure cut even the pikes to pieces, the battle was over, and I had to find some other entertainment for the second half of the day.



Dung-face, who was starting to realize I was the only person in Tuat smart enough to successfuly engage in conversation, came to talk to me the next day. We discussed the pig-dogs, and the Garamantine that had fought with them. I told him that if it was true war raged in the north, the Carthaginians would never commit real troops this far south again - but they would press the Garamantine to send a full force - a force that knew how to fight in the desert. The only solution I offered was to give me men. I would lead them to Garam, raise the nation against Carthage, and open a second front. If only I could overthrow the pretenders backed by the Carthaginians.

The fool believed me.

[gamegeek2]

Absolutely love it, politics as well (found it very interesting and intriguing)

[MisterFred]

Thanks gamegeek! For the record, I appreciate all comments and thoughts readers might have, both on the game itself and my writing and characters. Pretty much on anything, really. I'd be particularly interested to hear what people think of what I've done with Lina Utrana Sagun and Thucydorus of Leontini, as these are the two voices I worked hardest to do something with other than efficiently deliver information. (Both will be returning soon in upcoming chapters if you haven't formed an opinion yet.) Also, if there is any place I should be cross-posting or linking let me know - I'm not a TW forum expert.

[MisterFred]

[Trying a new title picture.]

by Stenu Turditanikum

[Ch.7]

The secret truth of the matter is that I was relieved when the Army of Mauretania marched out into Carthaginian territory. The eastern edge of land theoretically controlled by Siga holds little Maure and is not yet under our control, but Tarkun knows the Phoenicians well, and can find the ones that dislike Carthage. The constant drain of money for supplies had become a nightly worry. But approaching Ippone, Tarkun could be equally efficient seizing herds and raiding granaries, and Carthage's centralized government meant the locals frequently didn't realize our raiding parties were coming. A true Phoenician city with only a small Numidian population, Ippone was key to the prosecution of the war with Carthage. It is the only city in reach whose capture had the potential to truly hurt Carthage, precisely because it is so Phoenician and also connected to the financial web centered on Carthage. Other possessions may have taxes extracted or provide estates and land for wealthy Carthaginians. The capture of Ippone could affect, even in a small way, everyone in the city of Carthage.

Or so the theory went. In practice, I believed waiting for a Carthaginian counterattack was too dangerous, and the only cities I could strike in this strange warfare of large armies and deep territorial invasion were Kirtan, in Numidia, and Ippone. Ippone might cause Carthage to focus on defense rather than see the opportunity to invade Mauretania from the sea.

As the army approached the city in the spring, the scouts and rumors seemed to indicate the early march had paid off. An army significantly smaller than our own had retreated behind the wooden walls of the city, while smaller bands of troops were camped on the other side of the river east of Ippone. I felt good, we had caught Carthage off-guard and unprepared. Our troops had free reign of the countryside, and the locals seemed to understand that if we were going to steal their livestock and their corn, their buildings and their families were safe if they didn't resist us.

That is, I felt good until signs of summer started appearing and there were no longer small, scattered forces over the river. The estimated size of the nearby army had quadrupled, and scouts returned breathless that a massive army was marching to meet us, already crossing the river. We had to storm Ippone now, or retreat in the face of the combined Carthaginian forces. Tarkun had been working with the officers trying to figure out what sort of army was camped within the city. He knew best the strategies we had available to us. I had been planning on a siege followed by a short rest in Ippone and had supervised the Garamantines showing the rest of the army how to build reliable battering rams and overseeing provisioning.



Once the scouts had reported, I realized how foolish I had been to limit casualties by keeping our observers on the Ippone side of the river. That night I informed Tarkun that the next day we would make final preparations to storm the city, he would lead the men into battle on the second day hence. He was not ready. But then, I had run in pain and terror from the fight outside of Siga. To this day I thank the dust,trees, and even enemy cavalry which prevented the army from witnessing my disgrace, thus preserving my command. I reviewed Tarkun's plans to make sure I was familiar with them, and lunched once more with a Carthaginian noble whose estate and herds I had ordered spared. With his information, I assigned my most trusted Maure officers, those I had brought into the army personally, plans for organized looting and treasure depots for when the sack began.

Soon, I was standing confidently next to Tarkun, looking in command as he gave orders and I complimented myself on being able to figure out how far along on his plan we were. It was a good one. Knowing the Carthaginians would fear our javelins and stay somewhat back of the walls, he ordered our most expendable troops first into the breach, to lure the enemy in to charging in to stop us from pouring into the city, only to be met by a hail of javelins and driven away from the entrances again.


[Mercenaries get the worst jobs.]

The plan worked well. Half of our army pour javelins into the backs of units preventing a breach of the city, until two of the three holes in the city wall were cleared of opposition for our units that had used their ammo. With the enemy badly disorganized and the advantage manifestly theirs, those units poured into the city.



Unfortunately, it soon became clear that these were no hapless militia. We were facing professionals, the best of whom had yet to engage. Still, the Carthaginian forces were pushed away from the walls and many retreated to regroup deeper in the city, presumably to fight along side the phalanx whose pikes we could see in the market square.



Tarkun and I were in the city, and could only watch as our forward units, chasing the fleeing enemy down a broad street were surprised by a Carthaginian phalanx placing itself between the pursuers and our main force, using a branching avenue. In most cities, in most circumstances, there is little to fear from pikemen in the city streets. But these were high-walled mud-brick buildings, on a broad street, in an unfamiliar city where attempts to surprise the pikemen with unconventional warfare faced the threats of a hostile populace and small bands of professional troops who knew the city for us and had weeks to prepare. We the best we could, and set fresh units in immediately, who took advantage of the pikemen's positioning in classic Mauretanian fashion.





The units retreating to the city center must have turned back and surrounded our over-zealous men, however, for we soon heard Maure calls to turn and flee, but none of those men made it back to our forces. That single trap was effective enough to annihilate over 4,000 men. The reinforcements were already attempting to break the rear of the phalanx sword-to-sword and rescue their trapped brothers when, in a smart display of discipline and marching, the phalanx snapped its pikes up, wheeled, and brought down a reasonably organized front facing back towards out main body. Luckily our officers on the spot were wise enough to retreat slowly to the city wall, drawing on the pikemen.


[In game turns it was about 225 men breaking and routing - then trying to run through a deep elite phalanx.]

They couldn't see the number of reinforcements waiting for them because of the wall, and their officers must have realized that a retreat to the city center would have mean constant pursuing javelin fire. But it would have been the right decision. When they exposed themselves to our main force by the eastern wall, the depleted formation was cut to pieces. Most of the Carthaginian army was broken, and the last resistance was holding position in the market square.



Our remaining fresh units surged into the market square, surrounding the last bastion of opposition. I had left clear orders to ensure no Carthaginian soldier melted into the streets and byways of Ippone.



By the evening's end, I was a relieved man, despite extremely heavy casualties. A days-long street fight to capture the city could have given the approaching Carthaginian army time to surround the city in turn and destroy every last one of us. As it was, the screams and burning had already begun, ensuring enough light to work through the night. I had confidence my part of the plan would go smoothly, there was no where left in the city for resistance to form.







Excerpt of a letter written by Eurymines of Messana to Menibidos of Croton

...Business continues to be good, despite the bribes I have to pay to safeguard my estates from these cursed Mamertines. I am redoubling my efforts in sea trade because of the danger of keeping money tied up in land, and because it is the foreign contacts I maintain which make me valuable to the Mamertines, and therefore somewhat protected.

I am currently a few stadia west of Ippon, where there are deals on slaves the likes of which I have never seen. I am spending every ounce of metal with me on inventory and a second transport to haul it. I've even borrowed from my crew with the promise of twice their money upon sale of the slaves I'm purchasing.

It turns out the barbarians that live to the west of the Phoenicians on the southern coast, the Muray or some such name, have raised a large army and are plundering Phoenician cities to sustain it. Best of luck to them, I'm sure you agree!

The best part of it is that these Mooroy have absolutely no idea what they have in terms of merchandise. Other than the obviously learned captives, just about everything is going for dirt cheap. I paid less than a tenth what I expect to earn for my inventory, most of whom are laborers from the city itself. The Maera agent actually thanked me when I convinced him that these city-dwellers were worth next to nothing and I was doing him a favor by taking them off their hands.

Of course he probably has no idea who the Romani even are, and would have no way of comprehending how their desperation to shore up control of the coastal cities they've brow beaten into subservience means a shortage of skilled labor. They say they're going to build a modern city at Tolosa. Well who's going to do the building? Not the Gauls. The Roman public sure as death doesn't want to move out there, and hiring Massiliotes would be like handing over the treasury. And then in steps little 'ole me, with some of the most highly skilled construction workers in the world, fresh from the big temple project in Ippone.

Pity the Miare burnt that down.

As a token of my respect, I'm sending you a slave on a ship headed for Magna Graecia. He was previously an estate manager outside of the city, on one of the giant over-sized deals the big-shot Carthaginians like to lounge around in. Given the way the Phoenicians can make anything grow anywhere, I thought you could find a use or three for him. and he should be able to deliver this letter.

I hope you've thought more about my proposal to betroth your daughter to my son. Not only would the financial alliance be a natural fit, both of our families could use a friendly refuge on the other side of the strait. Just in case you have problems when the Romans get around to organizing that part of Italy or I have to seek refuge from whatever barbarian menace Sikel gets to deal with next...

[MisterFred]

by Stenu Turditanikum

[Ch.8]

The Army of Mauretania was in good spirits as we marched, happy with the sack of Ippone. The men had coins in their purses and the army was now well-funded and supplied, despite being cut off from home. For myself, the days were full of worry and fear. I had hoped to occupy the city burning over the horizon to the east, but the strength and size of the Carthaginian response was too dangerous to face. Trapped in Ippone, probably cut off from the sea by a Carthaginian fleet, we'd have been helpless. In an open field battle, perhaps we could have won... what? Who risks the future of a nation on maybes when victory gains nothing?

Retreat back west ate away at me, as the meaning of Carthaginian defeat haunted my waking thoughts. Yes, Mauretania was independent, yes, the victory had shown that Carthaginian power - especially their heavy cavalry - could be bested. Yes, we had come so far from the brief occupation of Lixus by Carthage. But as a nation, we relied on the existence of a single force. A single javelin thrown from a hundred paces away, that needed to hit one small gap in the accursed Carthaginian armor - a gap I hadn't yet seen. They have a whole wagon of javelins ready. Rather than slap down the particularly nasty one they had just thrown, I decided to dodge, and march west.

Tarkun argued for open-field battle, suggesting a major victory would let us march straight to the walls of Carthage and demand a peace treaty. But rumor held the size of those walls was the largest in the world, and I expected the city could be supplied by sea, and the Army of Mauretania might slowly starve. If victory merely led us into the jaws of a trap, I would prefer not to fight. And so we continued to retreat, the troops confidently expecting I was leading them to another victory.



The few stragglers I left hiding in Ippone soon reported that the Carthaginians were extremely well equipped and trained, led by a competent tactician named Bomilcar, who had recently returned from Kyrene, where he had dined with the Ptolemaic kings and improved the defenses of that remote outpost to keep the relationship with the Greeks peaceable.




Ippone had reduced the ranks of the Army of Mauretania.



Finally, I ordered the Army south into the interior, moving to invade Numidia. Retreat to Siga and friendly territory, as Tarkun advised if I refused to fight for Ippone, was folly. We could slowly solidify financial and military control eastwards, yes, until the Carthaginians won a battle and we collapsed back to the city, or worse, heard of the occupation of Lixus by sea months after it happened. I had to force Carthage to deal with me. I had to weaken their forces and their recruitment, and I had to strengthen the Army for the conflicts ahead.

Numidia could be key. For centuries, her people had served in Carthage's armies. Recently Carthage had assumed nominal control of the territory, although the Numidians chiefs still handled most of the territory's administration. But the greater level of co-operation had ended the existence of Siga as an independent Phoenician colony trading with Mediterranean Maure, and the security of interior control gave the Carthaginians the confidence to send their armies as far as Atlantic Maure itself. If I could break the Numidians away from the Carthaginians, convince them to raise up and throw the weight of the formidable Numidian cavalry behind the strong sword arm of Maure infantry - the war would be all but won. And co-operation or not, Carthage had to respond to hostilities in Numidia. Warfare in Numidia would threaten to spill over into their own agricultural heartland at the same time the anti-Barcids would demand Carthage save their investments in the Numidian interior.

The road west to Siga would be left undefended - save that any attempt to travel it by a Carthaginian general would be political suicide.

I directed the army to Kirtan, one of the few large towns in the region, the Numidians preferring a pastoral lifestyle to an urban existance, both to force the Carthaginians to pull back (a victory via symbolism) and as a base from which to conduct diplomacy and recruitment. Along the way, the army passed through rich pastures, which fattened our supporting herds and allowed us enlarge them via confiscation.

Taken by some madness, the Carthaginian official in Kirtan chose not to retreat and be seen with his tail between his legs. Perhaps some unpleasant fate awaited him if he returned penniless, perhaps he was simply patriotic to the point of being suicidal. Whatever it was, as we marched into Kirtan he gave a fiery speech praising the valor of Numidia, strapped the cover of an ordinary Numidian cavalryman over his bright Carthaginian shield, and charged to his death in the name of the Numidian spirits and gods as his astonished bodyguard was slowed by the prospect of numberless Maure javelins.



Perhaps he did convince the Numidians we were coming only to steal their land. Perhaps in some war of the gods, they did send the spirits of dead Numidian kings to possess the poor fool. Perhaps the Numidians feared what Carthage would do a decade from now if they showed any hesitation in supporting the great city. Whatever it was, the Numidians would not be won over. They would not consider my words. From the first day we marched into Kirtan, raiders probed our herds, looking to steal livestock. Townspeople threw roof-tiles and disappeared into the night. On a mission of 'alliance', I had to hold my men back and worry how many I might lose in a true riot.

When I learned Bomilcar had marched out of Ippone, leaving only a tiny garrison, I knew the Army of Mauretania would not stay long in Kirtan. I made plans and contingency plans, waiting to know which direction Bomilcar chose. If he marched west, I would have to chase him and defeat his army near Siga, or march back north and then east again to ravage the Carthaginian estates near the great city itself to draw him back. If he marched south, I would find myself in a hostile country and in poor position to win an open-field battle.

The day the report came in that Bomilcar had turned south, I let my army have its way with the town.



The sack of Kirtan was brutal and thorough. The most valuable of the population foolish enough to remain in the town were gathered and enslaved, sold to agents ready to spirit them west. Everything and everybody else was stolen, burned, or put to the sword. If Bomilcar was coming to defend Numidia, I intended to give him good reason to do so. Let his allies cry out for his aid, let them beg him to defend their towns and people. Let him waste his great host guarding hill forts and goat pastures. I marched east through the foothills of the southern mountains, the Numidians' best pasture land, rustling livestock, burning homes, and butchering anyone who stood in our way. Horses in particular we killed whenever we could find them, striking at the heart of the Numidians. Numidia was land whose wealth was spread out in smallholds and the valor of its people. Bomilcar had been wise enough to leave only a tiny garrison in Ippone. That city had already been looted, he was wise enough to know it needed little defending for the moment. But Numidia was another matter. I had high hopes Bomilcar's army could be dispersed and effectively removed from campaign without ever facing it in the field. Meanwhile the Army of Mauretania would strike deeper and deeper into enemy territory, searching for that tiny gap in the armor.



Some men suffered from the chill and cold as the cool season found us while we were crossing the high foothills, but we Maure have even seen snow, in the height of the Atlas range, and finding it on a few distant peaks once more would not slow us down. In early spring we were still marching, tireless, east across the coastal plain south of the Carthaginian heartland. It was time to test Carthage here, where Libyans, Phoenicians, and Liby-Phoenicians all merged and melted together in prosperous farming towns. To the west was death and destruction, and the shadowy presence of Bomilcar. To the north was the great city of Carthage itself, with its great walls and endless supply of foreign mercenaries. To the south appeared more fields, hills, and the lush luxury of spring, but every man among us could sense the sands further in the distance. To the east, a scale in the Carthaginian armor called Adrumento. Who knows what forces would step forward for its defense. Perhaps here would be the gap, the weakness I had been looking for.

[MisterFred]

by Lina Utrana Sagun, Matriarch of the Utrana clan, wife of the governor of Atlantic Maure, heart of the glorious realm of Mauretania, Ti Sagun

[Ch.9]

The nobles and their chosen sons they held back from war are at it again, practicing their throws, pitiful as they are, for the third straight day. Even fat Abulos, Ti's lieutenant, is out among them, exercising their horses and drilling day after day. On the good days, it is like watching art or a school of fish. The horses flow over the contours of the field, the javelins a delicate rain that impact with perfect rhythm. Other days, it is a disaster of grunting horses, men, and sweat, as poor formations cause collisions, and even the occasional broken bone.

Something may have to be done, but what? The sword-foundry is shuttered, as the government can't pay for the iron. We can give our boys, too young to be proper infantry, fire-sharpened sticks and slings, and they can pretend to be Troglodytes. But their aim will be poor and their weapons will break under them, and no one is willing to send the few young men left to that fate. Curse the old dog Hamalcar! Curse our bleeding balance sheets! The men swear Lixus and Sala could never fall, that if the old dog came for either one, the nobles of the other would answer and that, god willing, that would be enough. I have my doubts.

There is little I can do. My own family has supported Ti's government for years. We still have our landed estates in Atlantic Maure, and we are running them well, but so few in the cities that need to buy food our real sources of coin lie elsewhere. The government's debts continue to mount, but at least it hasn't gotten so bad we cannot continue the war. Ti's efforts in the south and in the desert are even starting to pay for themselves. Nearly starting to pay for themselves.



The old dog sends raiding parties to the edge of Atlantic Maure from east and south of the Atlas range, keeping the cities in a constant state of worry. His force is small, by all accounts, but large enough to cause real damage if he dares descend into the hills and the plain. We are not Siga, base of the Army of Mauretania. We are its home - which it left campaigning.



Horses are screaming again. It appears one of the maneuvers failed, and a smaller mount was shoved somehow and broke a leg. I have better things to do than watch this. I turn to one of the towers, intending to head back to the house for a late lunch and a bath. The evening should bring good news.

Unfortunately, my casual stroll home was interrupted by Famo of Sucum-Murgi, the most honored and welcome ambassador from the great peoples if Iberia.

"There you are, you treacherous bitch." Famo moved to grab me and I backed into the wall of some house before he could shove me against it. I shook my head slightly to warn away butchers across the street who had picked up their knives and looked determined, fabulous women. I made it a point of cultivating the prominent businesswomen of Lixus at every temple ceremony or other event. Noblewomen want to be me, and attention there makes them feel important and less dependent on you. Give an honorable common woman status and you may earn an ally for life.

Famo loomed over me, oblivious. "I know you did for Carlocca. You Africans are like animals, killing if anything shows weakness. 'Oh, look, Carlocca likes us. Let's rip his throat out.'" Famo abandoned his falsetto voice and shoved hard against me. "I don't like you, and I won't play your games. Come after me and all Iberia will know it was no lover's quarrel. They'll know you for the snakes you are. So get this straight. I tell your gelding of a husband what he can get away with. You stay out of a man's world, and we won't kill every last one of you dark bastards trading with the traitor Kardies in Iberia."

Finished, Famo stalked down the street in a hurry, no doubt seeing assassins in every alleyway. Fool ignored the women across the street. I looked hurt, scared, and abused, vulnerable, for them. Most lower class women have known what that's like, and they relate to it. Then I shot Famo a look I didn't have to fake, of hate and bile and the promise of revenge. That was meant for the women, too, to show strength and make me an object of respect rather than pity. I thanked them for their bravery then left as soon I could, heading home to prepare. I'd need to confer with Abulos before this evening.

***

After the feast, everyone of importance gathered at the port, enjoying the cool air as the day slowly turned to dusk. I stayed away from the seat of power, the knot of men laughing and discussing, until it was time for the signing ceremony. Then I made my way near Abulos, sitting demurely behind two of his aides. Famo and Abulos lied to the citizens and the sailors about the long ties and friendship between the Lusotann and Mauretania. Famo displayed silver and tin and two painted horses as diplomatic gifts from Oxtraca were unloaded from a Phoenician galley out of Gader. Our gifts were presented in turn, ivory carvings and semi-precious stones from the desert, a pair of fine swords from the Lixus foundry, and even a monkey from points south. I thought everyone loved the antics of a monkey, but Famo had to mask his surprise and horror and exclaim what a wonderful marvel it was.

As the goods were settled, the peace treaty itself was signed and just as the ceremony looked to be over, Abulos rose to speak once more. "Friends, allies," Abulos was waxing eloquent here, "the night is nearly upon us, but we have yet to hear from the soul of Lixus herself, the most lovely Lina Utrana Sagun, Matriarch of the Utrana, wife of the esteemed governor of Atlantic Maure, the one person here loved and respected by all. Madame Utrana, Governess, Lina my friend, would you honor this occasion?" The man had memorized his lines well.

I stood and stepped forward, taking Abulos' place, lit by torches and moonlight. The pale faces of the Iberians were visible before me. "My people. We have our independence. We have our friends. Our merchants will once again cross the seas and tell lies to Iberians as well as Greeks." Tired laughter. "We are blessed with the ability to rule our own destiny. Unfortunately, as a free person we must sometimes turn to our friends and tell them their faults, so that they may better themselves. Gentlemen." The noblemen of Abulos' guard that weren't involved in the ceremony came out of the shadows, seized Famo, disarmed him, and threw him to his knees. He screamed a few outrages before my Maure gagged him.

"Free people do not suffer threats. Free people do not let would-be overlords into their city. You are guilty, Famo, of arrogance, of seeking dominion over others, of dealing in bad faith. You, too, shall be a gift to Oxtraca from Mauretania. We gift Oxtraca your life. We gift Oxtraca the right to choose your replacement. We gift Oxtraca our forgiveness for this insult, your presence. Tell them this, and give them my welcome." Famo struggled as the men pulled him away from the crowd before they stripped him of his clothes and emblems, maimed him, and cauterized him. He was thrown onto the galley, naked and marked.

I turned away and waited for the attention of the crowd without actually calling for their attention. I smiled at Abulos, though only at half strength, and whispered into his ear. "Smile, as though I am giving you a gift. And thanks as well, for your excellent performance." Then I turned and began to examine some of the Iberian jewelry, signifying the time of violence was over.

Later, I had Asherah, a Phoenician woman attached to the Iberian delegation, pulled aside before she returned to her residence. We walked along the beach in the moonlight, two of Abulos' men following us discreetly for our safety. I congratulated Asherah on her foresight in settling her family in Lixus to arrange trade goods for her relatives in Gader. Then I stopped and formally offered her my palm. "I hope, as well, that you can be our connection to Iberia, Oxtraca's unofficial ambassador in Lixus until the new one arrives, of course. The precise terms of trade must be set most carefully, and I must turn to you to make sure things fall out well for the benefit of both of us, both of our countries."

Asherah bowed her head and took my hand and replied in broken Maure. "I will do everything I can to ensure profits return to both of us. And I hope to become your friend, as well."

I smiled, broke the connection between us, and we returned to our midnight stroll. I wondered if Asherah enjoyed beading.


[and trade rights, of course]