CHAPTER 33
From General Leto Spinther of the IX and X Legions of Concord,
To the most August and Prudent First Apprentice of Concord,
In the name of Girolamo Bernoulli and the martyrs of the Re-Formation,
Greetings,
That’s formalities out of the way! Thing were simpler when you were LX and I was LVIII. I’ll never get used to all these titles, not that you don’t deserve yours. As for me, the extension of my command was welcome, but the Tenth has so far proved more hindrance than help. They are in as bad a state as my beloved Ninth were when I took charge of them. Luparelli, may he rot in peace, was the worst kind of disciplinarian: an indiscriminate one.
Still, I’m not ungrateful. I’ve a good group of captains around me, some of whom fought with my father. My second-in-command is the best of them, and the worst. When Lieutenant Geta (Lord Geta to his friends) is not fighting he occupies himself with drinking and quarrelling and scandals as destructive as tower fires. For the moment the wives of my other captains are his fuel, but one day I’m certain he’ll consume himself. I’ll never understand his popularity with the infantry: the worse he acts, the better they like him. Our partnership’s a strange one. I’m not sure whether he hates all engineers, or just me. I suppose it can’t be pleasant having a twelve-year-old promoted over you, but if he doesn’t respect me or my rank, at least he respects the name Spinther. I tolerate his insubordination because of his tactical ability. He trained in Rasenna, and you can tell. We’ve had some hard battles up here (almost as rough as the Guild Halls!) and I’ve seen Geta turn utter routs into victory on more than one occasion. Perhaps this is a foolish thing for an engineer to say, but he’s lucky. I can see your blank face now, Torbidda, but on the front luck is as real and as treacherous a thing as the weather. I’ll use him as long as I can.
To business. I’ve just sent an official report to the Collegio, but this letter’s just for you. The Collegio’s orders were to subdue the Franks. Obviously they’re worried about supply – ever since Rasenna, all sorts of rumours have been flying about, and yes, the tribes are more adventurous than usual – but any grunt of the Ninth could have told them that the so-called Regnum Francorum isn’t very impressive up close. I may have been stationed here only three years, but remember I grew up in this wretched place. It’s no great boast to say I understand the Franks thoroughly; they’re not complicated. These rival chieftains may call themselves kings of nations, but as long as they remain disunited, they’re no threat. The only thing that could forge these barbarians into unity is aggression. Peace is the worst thing to give them, so for the last few months I’ve been doling the stuff out liberally. It’s working a treat too: succession struggles have erupted throughout the Isles. You may reassure the Honourable Consul that the mines of Bavaria and Bohemia are safe.
By the way, Corvis has been getting his way in the Collegio before either of us was born. Tread carefully. He’ll try to provoke you, but when the other fellow has the high ground, never attack – manoeuvre. I know designing an edifice worthy to replace the Molè has been your focus this past year, but you ignore Corvis at your peril. Of course this is not entirely disinterested advice: as my patron and champion my destiny is bound to yours.
Given that association, and current timorousness, I don’t propose to ask the Collegio’s approval for the venture I have in mind, but you should be aware of my plans. After Rasenna, other cities might be getting notions, so I’ve decided it’s the right time to remind our other neighbours that we haven’t gone away. I’m going to raid Ariminum’s colonies along the Adriatic’s northern coast – don’t worry, I’ll leave the Tenth behind to protect the mines when I lead the Ninth east. We’ll hug the coast of the Venetian Gulf, ride swiftly through the Tyrolean Highlands then down into the Dalmatian March. Again, Torbidda, don’t worry: I may not be brilliant as you, but I understand logistics, and I can read a map as well as any soldier. I know how easily my lines can be cut in the narrow pass.
Supply’s a problem that every army campaigning in this water-fractured land must deal with. The Ninth’s bedevilled by it. Your bouncing bridge design served its purpose when it got you noticed, but it’s a shame you only got the phase-transition to work on paper.
A self-forming pontoon would work wonders in this terrain and I’d like to see the plans again next time
I’m in Concord, not that I’m likely to succeed where you failed. Still, this is a problem that engineering can only mitigate. I’ve been studying the geography of the land bridge between the twin seas and I believe it can be taken. Speed’s the nub of it; we must not go too slow, but we cannot go too fast either. The longer we take, the more likely we are to get cut off, yet if we advance faster than our baggage train can catch up, we cut ourselves off.
It’s a riddle worthy of Varro.
It was Lieutenant Geta who suggested hiring Ariminumese boats to keep the Legion supplied, and so far it’s working. Everything has a price in Ariminum. It was an inspired solution – I confess that I would have never thought of it but, if cynical bastards like Geta are the types of colleagues I must become habituated to, I hope always to remain
Your friend,
LVIII
POST SCRIPTUM:
Thanks, incidentally, for your last letter. It can’t have been easy to finally tell me what happened in Conclave, but I feel better for knowing the circumstances of Agrippina’s death. At least you got to kill the bastard who did for her. She would have been happy for you, of that I’m certain.