On the other side of the white mountains, they had found respite in an easy march to Nedhena. Decades of serving as a reliable western outpost had grown Nedhena from a soldiers’ camp to a thriving city in its own right, though it was yet nothing to rival the ancient majesty of Massilia, Maritima’s largest city, founded a thousand years earlier by refugees fleeing the sack of Ilion.
‘It could be, though,’ Sempronius thought, riding along the riverbank towards the settlement. ‘It could be every bit as grand.’ He felt again that familiar twinge that was not quite ambition so much as an innate desire to see the most made of everything. Wherever Sempronius looked, he tended to see potential, and where he saw it, he could not avoid wishing it achieved. ‘Proper walls, real streets laid out along the camp’s grid system. Better sanitation, to be sure. Build some Aventan-style baths, a promenade like they have in Massilia, and this could be a resort to rival any on Crater Bay.’
“Praetor Sempronius!” Sempronius lifted his eyes to see Autronius Felix hailing him from the eastward-facing praetorian gate. Sempronius waved him down, not yet ready to abandon the relative quiet of the grassy bank for the tightly controlled chaos of the camp itself.
As the highest-ranking of the military tribunes under Sempronius’s command, Felix had been put through his paces over the past four months. Sempronius had made a promise to Felix’s older brother Marcus that he would keep the high-spirited young man out of trouble. It was, in some ways, much like training a horse. Felix would snort and shake his head and chuff, but he didn’t grumble too much and generally settled to his work quickly and capably.
While they were on the road, if there was nothing more complex to be getting on with, Sempronius had Felix run orders up and down the long column of cohorts, and the effort generally left him too tired to find much mischief at the end of the day. ‘All he really needs is discipline, and the weight of a little responsibility on his shoulders.’ Autronius Felix was headstrong and passionate, but a stallion in need of curbing, not breaking.
Keeping Felix out of trouble had been more of a challenge in Nedhena than on the road. The town was as famed for its vibrant population of camp followers and women of negotiable affection as for its merchants and Fire-forgers. Between the brothels, the taverns, and the gaming dens, Felix might have been as dizzy with carnal indulgence and moral depravity as he ever was in Aven, had Sempronius not found plenty of ways to keep him busy. He could commit only so much debauchery in the few hours that Sempronius left him.
Oddly—or perhaps not—Felix did not seem to mind. Sempronius wondered if he got into mischief out of boredom, idleness his true undoing. He was not half the fool he sometimes played. Felix had a mind in his head, and though it was not a particularly imaginative one, it was a mind constructed with a talent for finding the simplest solution to a given problem. When put to the test, Felix was efficient and focused, and Sempronius had hopes of shaping the young man’s loyalty into reliability as his second. ‘The fact that doing so will put Optimate noses out of joint is an amenable side benefit.’ Not everyone in the Senate had approved of Sempronius’s decision to make Felix, with his up-and-coming plebeian family, his senior tribune instead of a well-pedigreed patrician.
Sempronius swung down off of his horse as Felix drew near. “We’ve had word from a messenger,” Felix said, jogging closer. “General Sallust should arrive by evening.”
“Excellent!” With the Fourteenth under General Calpurnius already encamped, that would make for three legions at nearly full strength—minus the two cohorts already in Iberia. That vexillation, under the direction of Young Gaius Vitellius, had been the first Aventan force to engage the Lusetani in battle. The Lusetani had begun their attacks over a year earlier, first targeting the merchants traveling through central Iberia. They claimed their purpose was to drive out Aventan influence from their territory, but they had swiftly progressed to assaulting not only Aventans and Tyrian traders, but also any of the other Iberian tribes who did not accept their dominion.
‘Over fourteen thousand fighting men.’ Sempronius prayed they would be enough, and that he would not need to rely on the Second and Fourth coming up from Gades. Those legions were under the command of Lucretius Rabirus, Sempronius’s enemy in the Senate. Taking praetorial command of Baelonia and its legions was far from the worst of Rabirus’s crimes, but he had done so with the explicit goal of being a thorn in Sempronius’s side. ‘So much the better if I need never give him the opportunity of thwarting me. We need a swift, strong strike, not a lingering campaign.’ Sempronius wanted to prove to Aven’s allies that Aven could be depended on to defend their interests.
“Should I give direction to be ready to break camp in the morning?”
“Yes—for the Fourteenth. We’ll send Calpurnius on ahead first.” They had arranged passage from Nedhena to Tarraco, the capital of the Cantabrian province and the seat of Sempronius’s praetorship, but the fleet was not enough to carry all three legions at once. With the winter storms passed, the trip to Tarraco and back should only take four or five days. Even with the boats making a few trips to ferry them all, it would still be faster than trekking over the mountains. “That’ll give the Eighth a chance to rest—and adjust to Onidius’s command.” Sallust was giving up his command of the Eighth to his subordinate, Onidius Praectus, who had ridden ahead of the main forces to meet Sempronius in Nedhena. Sempronius was glad he had, for it had given him time to consult and plan with both of his sub-commanders.
“He seems solid enough. Quieter than Sallust, though! Their ears might need more adjustment than anything else.” Felix drew a deep breath, looking appraisingly at the countryside. “Did you have a good ride?”
“I did. Would that we had the time to explore farther. Even with as long as we’ve held Maritima, we haven’t made full use of it.”
“Personally,” Felix said, “I don’t think Nedhena will ever be quite the city of culture and grace that Massilia is, but the farmland is good. It’d be an excellent place to settle legionaries upon retirement.” Felix’s voice was casual, but his dark eyes had a knowing spark in them.
“You read my mind,” Sempronius said.
“I read your intent, sir.”
Sempronius handed the horse’s reins over to Felix. “It would be a different kind of colony. The waterways need improvement.”
“Fortunately, old soldiers are good at digging trenches.”
“True enough. It’s no Truscum, but the land does have its charms.”
Felix snorted. “Well, if you convince the Senate to approve such a measure, you’ll have achieved something extraordinary. Speaking of Nedhena’s charms, have you sampled the locals’ honey?”
Sempronius arched an eyebrow. “Rather a personal question, I think.”
Felix blinked a moment, then barked a loud laugh, nearly doubling over in mirth. “Oh, sweet Bellona, I did ask for that, didn’t I? No, no—though that’s as sweet as anything, too, if you do want to know, and I can highly recommend a few delectable sources.” Though not a paragon of male beauty by typical Aventan standards, Felix had rough charm to go along with dark curly hair, merry brown eyes, and a grin that had, no doubt, coaxed much flowing honey from the local ladies. “But no, I meant the real honey. The bees here make a nectar like you wouldn’t believe. Something about the lavender. I’ll bring some to dinner tonight, if you invite me.”