Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 2 - Metamorphosis

"Aye, but we've had how long? Sixty five years? Sixty five years to build our strength up to this point These people don't have anything like that. And why would you want to create an island out here? What difference could it make to anything? These people could be wiped out tomorrow or next week."

"True, but perhaps not if they had help."

He stiffened very slightly and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "Help from where, from Camulod?"

"Why not?"

He looked away, as I had expected him to, his face going sombre as he chased and enumerated the thoughts going through his head. Finally he looked back into my eyes.

"Are you considering keeping our lads here, to help these people?"

"No, not at all."

"Well, thank the Christ for that! Our troopers are looking forward to going home, and they've earned that right."

"They have, indeed. But I would like to dispatch another force, once we are home, to serve the same purpose. Perhaps a hundred men."

"Merlyn, we won't have a hundred men for that kind of luxury. We're going to be at war, at least in Cambria, and possibly against the Danes from Northumbria as well."

"It's not a luxury, Ded, it's a necessity. We're going to need the strength of people like the Appius clan some day. And there must scores, perhaps hundreds, of similar settlements all over this territory. Even a score of diem, fielding a hundred men apiece, would give us a force of two thousand men."

"No, Merlyn, use your head! Where's your logic? Half a score of similar settlements would leave us short a thousand men, spread out in ten separate, piddly little garrisons."

My shoulders slumped as I digested the incontrovertible truth of what he had said, and yet...

"Damnation, Ded, I know I'm right. You read Ambrose's last letter, where he talked about the problems facing them in Camulod. Even with much of our force quartered now in Ilchester, and the fields we've added to our granaries there, we have almost too many mouths to feed, and too few roofs to cover all their heads. Here could be a way to relieve the congestion, temporarily at least, and to feed everyone better!

"Look at the fertile fields here, going to waste, lying unused, and tell my why that must be so! There is a wealth of manpower lying idle around here, and I'm not just speaking of fighting men. I'm thinking about the farmers—the homeless people living on the edges of the forest, the people living in temporary huts on the outskirts of the ruined towns, the people, helpless thousands of them, who subsist alone, because they're all afraid to gather into numbers worth slaughtering. If there are enough of them out there, and if they can be rallied and joined together for their own good, their own protection and welfare—if they can be taught, somehow, to believe in the mere possibility of that— then they would be invincible in their number.

"But I know you're right, as well. The logistics would be next to impossible, and there's no getting around that. We can't establish garrisons in every place that begs for help. We lack the strength in men, strong as we are. It was wishful thinking on my part, that's all. Forgive me for tugging at your ears."

Dedalus sat silent for a while longer, plucking at his lip and surprising me by not bounding to his feet and congratulating me on my openness to argument. "Well," he drawled, his tone speculative, "having heard what you've just said, if I look at this thing from a slightly different line of sight, I don't know how far off balance your thinking is. You do have a point worth making. There's a lot of sound sense in the idea. Hmm..." I waited as his voice tailed into a long silence. Finally he grunted again. "Y'know, I really think the only thing that's wrong with it is the scope."

"What d'you mean by that?"

He snorted, and it was almost a laugh. "You're half Roman. Do it by half the Roman way, but make your half measures full steps."

I blinked at him. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Yes you do, if you'll but think about it. How did the Romans build their holdings, first the Republic, then the Empire?"

I gazed back at him, conscious of a tiny flicker of excitement in my chest. "By converting those they conquered into allies, making them auxiliaries and teaching them the Roman way of fighting."

"That's right. Camulod has no need to conquer these folk you're considering, so there's no bloodshed involved at that stage. All you have to do is convince them they need help and that you're willing to provide it. That shouldn't be difficult. You need to give 'em back the hope they've lost. Nothing's easier than that.

"Send out patrols, routinely, each one consisting of one cohort of our troops. Order each cohort to spend two days in each place they visit. They'll construct a fortified camp while they are there, then leave it intact for the use of the locals. No shortage of trees, anywhere, for palisades. Log walls and earthen breastworks. That offers safety in a very real sense. Once the camps are built, the local people can build their own buildings inside the walls and be their own garrisons, and Camulod can supply the basic military training they'll require. That won't require a permanent base of a thousand men, but it will ease congestion in our own home jurisdiction, keeping a thousand men gainfully occupied and out of Camulod full time, if you dedicate four separate cohorts to the job and keep them busy, alternating two and two on continuous patrols. And the beauty of it is, they'll all be within easy recall, should any trouble threaten us at home. Twenty men to each camp, at first, one squad each of infantry and cavalry, should achieve the effect you want. Enlist the support of the local leaders, chiefs and elders, and their enthusiasm will stir the flames in others. Once the people see they can defend themselves, our job will be almost done. All it will require on top of that will be the regular patrols, passing by on schedule and offering the hope of assistance if invasion or attack happens. Nothing to it. Then, if war comes into this region, we'll have a home grown force to fight it with." He paused, giving me time to digest what he had said before he added, "It'll work, Merlyn. Your idea was right, merely askew in its conception. Don't thank me for my insight. It is damn tedious to have to listen to outpourings of gratitude all the time..."

I sat stunned, seeing the possibilities of what he had described. And Dedalus, once he had seen that he had given me enough to think about, yawned and stretched and then stood up and muttered something about taking a nap, since he had been on duty all night long. I barely noticed him leave.

And so, thus simply and apparently by chance began the process that would transform the land of Britain and alter Arthur's destiny from that of Legate Commander of the Forces of Camulod to Riothamus, the High King of Western Britain. That the process occurred at all was astounding; that it occurred as quickly as it did was akin to miraculous; but the time and the conditions were appropriate to the needs, and the leaven that inspired the change was hope.

Our "attack" on Nero's holdings was a complete success. Despite the terror it produced in the inhabitants, the relief it occasioned afterwards, once the realization dawned that it was but a ruse arranged by their leader, was sufficient to overcome any resentment that might have been harboured by some of Nero's elders. No one was injured in the foray, and that in itself was an indication of the success of the attack and of the level of unpreparedness we found on our arrival. In the aftermath, once Nero had explained to a general assembly of his people all that we intended to achieve— an alliance between them and Camulod that would be heavily weighted in their favour in the early stages—the decision was quickly made to begin the work of refortification immediately. That led to the recognition of the real, underlying reason why nothing had been done before this time: there was no lack of willing hands to undertake the labour, but no one among Nero's folk had any knowledge of the architectural skills required to build the needed walls. Even their senior soldier, an ancient veteran of the legions, had never been required to take part in the building of a fortified camp. Plainly he had never served with Caius Britannicus and Publius Varrus.