Arts of Dark and Light: Book 01 - A Throne of Bones (101 page)

“You need to forget Oxonus and the Testamenti and turn to your Frontinus,” Trebonius said. “I think it’s to your credit that the moral aspects matter to you, it truly is. But there is a reason most of our generals haven’t been scholars for over four hundred years of empire, Marcus Valerius. Your primary concern has to be the morale and well-being of the men, not the morality of your orders. You’re their general, not their priest. And if you don’t permit them to avenge their comrades, you’re going to risk losing them.”

Marcus nodded. “You may well be right. I’ll think on it. Tell Father Gennadius I’d like to see him, if he is amenable.”

Trebonius saluted and left.

Marcus folded his hands and rested his chin on them. In all the lessons he’d learned, in all the lectures he’d heard, in all the books and scrolls he’d read, nothing had prepared him for this. He knew his duty to his men. If he could not save their comrades, he must avenge them and demand ten lives for every Amorran soldier slain.

But did he not also have a duty to the Immaculate Son of God? Was it not to glorify Him by his every thought, word, and deed? How could the murder—he chose the word deliberately, so that he might not give himself the excuse of evading what he was contemplating—how could the murder of young men and women who had never raised their fists, let alone their swords, against Amorr be to the glory of God? How could hands stained red with blood be Immaculate?

He rose from his chair and went in search of the scroll Trebonius had recommended. Perhaps the answer would be found in Frontinus. Where are you, Sextus Gaerus? Then he spotted the scroll that had once belonged to Marcus Saturnius. There you are. He ran his finger over the sections that seemed as if they might be relevant.
On Distracting The Attention Of The Enemy. On Quelling A Mutiny Of Soldiers
. He hoped he wouldn’t ever need that one.
On Creating Panic In The Enemy’s Ranks. On Ambushes. On Letting The Enemy Escape Lest He Renew The Battle In Desperation. On Restoring Morale By Firmness. On Bringing The War To A Close After A Successful Engagement.

On Creating Panic
seemed potentially relevant. He moved to the place and read.
The Faliscans and Tarquinians disguised a number of men as priests and had them hold torches and snakes in front of them, like Furies. Thus they threw the army of the Amorrans into panic.

Perhaps not. That was useless, as was the rest of the section. It seemed hard to imagine such a childish tactic working, although perhaps by “priests” Frontinus actually meant “mages.” He wondered if it was really the crude tactic described or if, like the good son of the Church that he was, Sextus Gaerus had shown delicacy in the portrayal of an enemy’s use of magic. He spread out more of the scroll, and his eye fell upon
On Bringing The War To A Close.

I. Cassanius Inregillensis, having met the elves on their way from Kir Donas to Glaeslael under the command of Prince Seabringer, defeated them and threw the Seabringer’s head into the elven king’s camp. As a result, the king was overwhelmed with grief and the army gave up hope of receiving reinforcements.

II. When Lucius Comminus was besieging Thursia, he fastened on spears the heads of Thursian generals who had been slain in battle, and exhibited them to the besieged inhabitants, thus breaking their stubborn resistance.

III. Arminghast Fourfinger, leader of the mountain orcs, likewise fastened on spears the heads of those he had slain, and ordered them to be brought up to the fortifications of the enemy.

IV. When Domitius Corbulus was besieging Burgruneaux and the Tarcondii seemed likely to make an obstinate defense, Corbulo executed Vadandus, one of the nobles he had captured, shot his head out of a balista, and sent it flying within the fortifications of the enemy. It happened to fall in the midst of a council which the barbarians were holding at that very moment, and the sight of it (as though it were some portent) so filled them with consternation that they made haste to surrender.

It appeared someone in Solacte has been reading Frontinus, he murmured to himself. Only he couldn’t see that exhibiting poor Dardanus’s head had filled him or anyone else with the desire to surrender. But answering terror with considerably more terror would appear to be the tactic in order here. He rolled the scroll up again as a small man with a shaven head wearing a simple black robe pushed aside the tent flap.

“By your leave, my lord Tribune?”

“Please, Father Gennadius, do come in.”

The little priest had been with the legion since its formation and was a favorite with the men and officers alike. He took the chair that Marcus indicated. He was popular with the soldiery because his weekly sermons were short and pithy. The men said that the priest who had been travelling with Legio VII for more than twenty years could go two bells without ever once appearing to pause for breath, and regularly did so. But Father Gennadius was also popular with the officers because he handed out relatively light penances for sexual peccadilloes, which kept the men coming back for confession. If he wasn’t the fine scholar that Marcus’s longtime tutor, Father Aurelius, was, Gennadius was a font of calm and sensible wisdom, and Marcus always enjoyed talking with him.

“Gaius Trebonius seemed less than pleased with you, Clericus. There was a disagreement? The deaths of Lucius Dardanus, Quintus Gavrus, and the other knights trouble you?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Marcus admitted. “Father, can one repent and confess a sin prior to committing it?”

“I should not think so. To repent is to abjure the sin, to cast its impurity forth from the soul it stains and henceforth resist its temptation. If one commits the sin after its confession, then one has not truly repented and therefore merits no forgiveness from that false repentance, either before or after the act.”

Surprised, Marcus raised his eyebrows at the priest’s answer. “You’re saying the act then becomes unforgivable? That seems excessive.”

“Not at all. Only that to commit the sin following the confession is to render it void, as if the confession had never happened. Repentance must come after the fact if it is to be considered even potentially genuine. Is there a particular sin you are contemplating, my son?”

“I’m not even sure if it is a sin, Father. Or rather, it strikes me as a sin, but then, it also strikes me as my duty, and shirking my duty would also be a sin. So, it would appear I’m damned either way.”

“In a manner of speaking,” the priest said with a faint smile. “But let us not resort to cheap theatrics. It is my duty to see that you are not damned at all, Marcus Valerius. So tell me your dilemma, if you can.”

Marcus laid out the facts for the priest. It came as a relief to honestly admit his concerns without the need to fear if doing so would cause Father Gennadius to think less of him as a man or a commander. The priest was technically under Marcus’s orders so long as he was attached to the legion, but Marcus couldn’t imagine actually trying to give him one, and he had no doubt that the little man wouldn’t hesitate to disobey him if he saw fit to do so.

“If I have understood you correctly,” the priest began when Marcus had finished, “you feel that your duty as the general of the legion conflicts with your duty as one who attempts to walk in the sanctified footsteps of the Immaculate. Neither Oxonus nor Tullius can help you here, as both the Larinii and the Solactae have given you sufficient
jus ad bellum
with their abrogation of the alliance and the murder of your men.

“The real question is one of
jus in bello
, but I agree with you that the Tullian dictate concerning the imperative to spare those who have not been bloodthirsty and barbarous in their warfare is a collective one. He refers to tribes, cities, and peoples, not individuals. As to whether this is a war for survival or supremacy, I should say that while it is too soon to say, I incline toward the latter. The Larinii and the Cynothii may wish to throw off the Amorran yoke, but they have shown no sign they wish to march on Amorr, much less destroy it.”

“This is all beside the point,” Marcus complained. “My concern is for my officers and my men. How can I lead them if they do not respect me as their general?”

“I wonder how you can think to lead them if you are determined to follow their opinion? But no, that is unfair. My son, there is no conflict. There is no dilemma at all, except in your own mind. That is the essential problem you face. Nor is this chiefly a military matter, or even a moral issue, at least not the one you wrongly believe it to be.”

“What are you talking about? Of course it’s neither one nor the other—it is both!”

“I fear you have not properly considered the logic, Clericus. Let us assume that your officers are correct and it is to the genuine military advantage of Amorr to slaughter the young Larinii who have neither killed your men nor taken up arms. This dispite your feeling that it would be more in accordance with God’s will to spare them. This puts you in a difficult situation because you have a solemn and sworn duty to serve Amorr to the best of your abilities and yet you are also a child of the Immaculate and are sworn in your soul to obey Him.”

“That is so,” Marcus allowed, unsure where the priest was going with this.

“Is whatever is of military advantage to Amorr the sole factor that one who serves the Senate and People must take into account?”

“No, of course not. It’s one of a number of factors.”

“Therefore it is not intrinsically dispositive. Military victories are to be desired, certainly, and they may even be absolutely vital in certain circumstances, as one cannot serve that which is nonexistent. But that is not the case now. Amorr will not be destroyed regardless of what you do here. Its survival is not currently hanging in the balance. Now, are the Senate and People dedicated to any purpose beyond the continued survival and prosperity of the city?”

“To serve God as their true king….”

“Precisely. It seems to me then that your choice is between serving God as a follower of the Immaculate or serving God as a tribune elected by the tribes and sworn to the service of the Senate and People. Your concerns about what your men and your officers might think is merely a matter of pride, Marcus Valerius, which I have observed that the members of your House tend to possess in some quantity. You already know what to do, but you simply wish to find a way to rationalize your natural desire so as to have your men think well of you.”

Marcus stared at Father Gennadius in shock. He felt as if one of his family’s loyal dogs had turned on him and bitten him to the bone. Here he was asking the seemingly inoffensive little man to give him counsel about a difficult situation, and somehow the priest had turned it into an accusation of his personal failings! He felt his temper rising, and it was only with the utmost difficulty that he managed to prevent himself from shouting at the man.

“You are wrong,” he stated calmly. “I would take no pride in killing the young ones.”

Father Gennadius smiled. “Of course not, Clericus. Their deaths would be merely the means, not the end. The pride that blinds you to your duty to God and Amorr alike is rooted in your desire to be seen as a general worthy of the traditions of your house, victorious and beloved by his loyal men. Fortunately, you are either too sensible or too well-schooled in strategy to be entirely ruled by your pride, or I have no doubt you would attempt to besiege Solacte while fighting off all the rebel legions that come to break the siege.”

The justice of the priest’s statement forced Marcus to swallow the first two or three retorts that occurred to him. He had, in fact, spent some time flirting with the idea of feigning a march south, then doubling back and storming the city at night, gambling that any significant rebel forces would either be committed elsewhere or too slow to respond to the city’s original summons. He’d even discovered a more outrageous idea in Longinus, when Sextus Gaerus described the way Antiochus had taken Suenda by intercepting a supply train, killing its teamsters, and replacing them with his soldiers to get them inside the gates. Intercepting an entire legion or two, however, struck him as overly ambitious.

“So your advice is to simply march on and leave the Solactae unmolested?” He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice and was not entirely successful.

“My advice is for you to pray and be honest with yourself.” Father Gennadius rose from his chair and took one of Marcus’s hands in his own. “You find yourself facing pressures that no young man your age is expected to face, Marcus Valerius. Have courage and give more credence to the still small voice you hear in your heart than to the roaring of your centurions or the whispers of your soldiers. And whatever you decide, know that God is not only watching—He is with you.”

Marcus nodded. “Thank you for the counsel, Father.”

“At your service, General.” The priest smiled, bowed, and departed.

Well, that was rather less than helpful, Marcus thought. He was unimpressed by the priestly logic. During his time preparing for the priesthood, he had known men who could utilize the dialectic as if it were a musical instrument, blowing whatever tune they chose. Cassius Clodius, in particular, could probably find a way to prove that burning the Larinii youth as a sacrifice to the devil was a divine mandate and make it sound not only convincing, but conclusive. And yet, Father Gennadius had reminded him of one thing that he had failed to consider.

No man, still less a general, could ever hope to lead by following.