by Peter Rhodan
They reached the valley floor and trundled past the spot where he and Oween had met so violently. As they were now headed into what passed for civilization around here, he decided it was time for Oween to give him some local political information. After giving subject some thought Oween surprised him by asking why he needed to know.
“Well, you see my friend I have every intention of returning home at some point. To do that I will need access to all sorts of resources so I need to know how things are organised around this part of the world so I can plan my best course of action. I’ve picked a bit of information from you but what I really need is good description of the local situation, who is in charge, and what sort of power they have plus what industries or such there are in the local area.”
Oween cocked his head to one side and gave him a considering look. “Plan eh? Well I’d best see what I can do to help with that. Where will I start. Hmmm."
Chapter 5
The lay of the land
"The Rufanig have controlled all these parts south of the wall they built up there,” And he waved northward some indeterminate distance. “For generations, but lately their control has loosened up a bit because the local governors have been draining the place of soldiers in their endless attempts to rule the empire. There’s been several who have given it a go in my lifetime and more before that, most of which ultimately failed. What it means now is that there are hardly any trained soldiers left in the island and no money to pay them. The Dux in Lugowalion has maybe a thousand men under his command at this end of the wall and of his force the only really effective troops are the roughly three hundred or so cavalry he has. The rest of his force are infantry who despite the fancy titles they sport, are really nothing more than limitani these days. He sends a cavalry force with a few wagons down the coast every few months to collect the tax but there are no real military forces stationed down here anymore."
“Must be a lot of tax if they need several wagons.”
Oween laughed. “You’re thinking wagons full of gold and silver coins aren’t you?”
“If that’s what the local currency is made of, yeah.” Arturo replied, cocking his head slightly as he considered possible future ramifications of an economy based on the actual metal value of the coins used for trade, which was not something he had a lot of knowledge about even with all the history courses he had taken.
“Nah. In the old days they did apparently expect people to pay with coins, or so I’ve been told, but these days they collect the tax in kind. Mostly grain for the horses from around here but also other crops like wool and such for the men. There is a whole list of suitable stuff people use. Drains the local economy heaps although these days not as much as before when there far more troops. Mind you the area is not at as productive as it was in my Da’s day and is lot more run down what with all the abandoned farms and overgrown paddocks and the like.”
Arturo considered this in light of his own small observations, the two abandoned farms he had seen for instance along with the lack of any large conurbations nearby and nodded as he stroked his chin.
"And where is this Lugowalion?"
"Oh, maybe thirty miles or so to the north east. It used to be the oppodium of the Carveti who were the main tribe in this part of the island before the Rufanig came. The Rufanig called it Lugowalion after they took over and the name sort of stuck. It’s about a day and half up the Rufanig road through Maglona." Oween waved vaguely over his shoulder in a north easterly direction. From this description he realised that apparently his shuttle had arrived in the system below the plane of the ecliptic and what he had designated as the southern hemisphere the locals regarded as being in the north.
"And there are no other military forces in this area?" Arturo asked after a few moments.
"Not really, not like it was in the old days when there were Rufanig soldiers all over the place. Now it’s just lots of little Prees with a few bully boys at their beck and call. A couple of Mairs have a few thugs on their payroll as well but there are no real big towns in these parts. They all claim to be Decurions or whatever and acting in the name of the Empire though of course that is really just so much hot air. If any real Imperial forces turn up they trot out their taxes and behave like proper little Rumans but they’re little more than just bandit lords in a lot of cases." Oween sounded a bit disgusted with this situation although Arturo couldn't decide if his dislike was a general one or the result of a bad personal experiences. Arturo was not sure of the Ruman reference although he guessed form the context it must be another name for the Rufanig.
Arturo mulled over this. He still wasn't sure exactly what a Pree was but it seemed to be some sort small scale tribal leader or chief. The way Oween said the title he got the impression they were probably local tough guys who were filling the vacuum left by the reduction of the local military forces by the enigmatic Rufanig.
"These Prees, are there any close to here?"
"Oh aye, there be Dagobert over at Breansallyn. He's an Amaiu. Turned up ten year ago with a couple of mates, mostly ex-army types. Took a liking to old Gennius' house and his missus. Serves the old goat right, he had no business taking a wife who was twenty years his junior even if he did have the largest property in the area. Anyway, a bit later this Dagobert claims Gennius cheated him out of money they'd agreed on for Dagobert and his mates to serve as bodyguards. Seemed a bit thin to me but anyways Dagobert kills old Gennius in self-defence or so swear his mates although how an old man like Gennius could threaten Dagobert I have no idea. Anyways, he took over the villa and the wife into the bargain."
"And nobody did anything?" Arturo queried.
"What could anyone do? Dagobert and his mates are real soldiers, served in the Rufanig army and all. Anyone who says anything gets beaten up or worse. And telling the Rufanig cavalry is no good cause all they want is the taxes and Dagobert being ex-military gets along with them real good. He's one of the reasons I'm roaming around up here.” He waved his arm to encompass the surrounding hills. “Dagobert don't like me much!" He said with a shake of his head that was followed by a sly grin as if proud of the fact. Then his expression turned sour. "Feel sorry for the girl though."
"The girl?" Arturo responded.
"Yeah, old Gennius' daughter. Was only two or three when Gennius was done in. Now she's becoming an attractive young lady so I expect Dagobert 'll take her for himself. Quite a pretty little thing." He said with a disgusted tone, obviously not liking the picture he had described but clearly unable or unwilling to intervene.
"I see." Said Arturo. "Any other Prees around here?"
"Not in the immediate area." Own said. "Down the coast at Wern there is Dileen. He calls himself a Decurion but he was never appointed by the Dux as far as I know. He has this old Rufanig fort overlooking the river mouth although there is not much sea trade these days. Still the Scotti tend to avoid there cause he has a tough looking place. T was part of what used to be a chain of Rufanig forts down the coast in the old days."
"I see. And how many men does he have?" Arturo asked.
"Only three or four I think. Been a while since I been down there, but the townsmen respond to his call up as well, so maybe thirty or forty if the Scotti come a calling. I guess he's the Mair of the place now in effect"
"I see. So this Wern is only a small town then?"
"Depends." Oween relied. "Around here Wern is one of the bigger places. Dervent has maybe twenty or thirty people. It's just over there a ways." He waved his arm in a north westerly direction. "Alladraef has maybe forty or so. That's on the way to Maglona. Maglona isn't what it used to be either these days. Maybe sixty or seventy there or at least there was the last time I passed through. Been declining quickly since the last of the Rufanig cavalry that used to be based there left." He finished.
"What about this Lugowalion?"
Oween paused and considered. "I haven't been there in a few years you understand but it had maybe three thousand people then. I hear that quite a few have left
after all the troop withdrawals, particularly this last time. How many people are left is a guess on my part I'm afraid but from things traders have said I'd say half are still there so about a thousand and a half give or take."
Arturo was surprised at the low population density and said so.
"Oh but there's all the farmers too you know. The Mair of Dervent could probably call on another hundred men or more just locally and it’s the same in all the other places. We don't have many of those villas around here that you find down south and very few slaves for that matter either so most farms are worked by families, often three generations or more. The bigger ones sometimes have employees as well so there is a lot of manpower around, you know."
"I see." Answered Arturo not at all mollified. The population density seemed extremely low to someone from an advanced world whose four billion people was not large by Federation standards. And these people practiced slavery! Of all the barbaric institutions that was one of the worst. He had seen the results of slavery on a couple of planets that had backslid after the fall of the Empire and he had not enjoyed the experience at all. The land here looked like it could support a much large population than it did. Well, as far as he could tell with his limited agricultural knowledge. Certainly it was a lot greener than the farming land at home.
“The Mair of Alauna used to be a someone till the Scotti sacked the place a couple of year ago. Not much there now apart from the old ruined Rufanig fort.” Oween paused, seemingly to muse over past events before continuing. “Other than that, there aint much. Lots of little places, you know, a few houses and a smithy serving a farming area. But no big towns like there are down south, although I hear most of them are struggling these days as well.”
"So these Rufanig or Rumans as you have also called them. How big is their empire?" Arturo asked.
"Massive. There is a long sea running through the main part of the empire that takes over thirty days to sail the length of, if you get favourable winds, or so I've been told. Now we are way out on the western edge of the Empire so probably you can add another month sailing time to that just to get to the entrance of the middle sea." Oween commented. "The Empire is a bit run down at the moment I'd say, what with all the infighting that has drained them over the last few generations and the losses the Eastern half suffered a generation ago when they lost that battle against the Goths. Plus the barbarian invasions which are still going on in various places, especially in Gaul and Hispania. Still, sooner or later someone will get real control of the Empire and then they'll be back I would imagine."
"Oh. You think so?"
"Always happened in the past. Thought Stilichio was going to do it but he kept loyal to Honorius more fool him. Saw him once you know back ten year or more ago. I worked for a trader based at Eboracum and he took me to Gaul once. Saw Stilichio there." He paused musing over his own past. “Lot of good his loyalty did him in the end, bloody Honorius had him killed. Shame.”
Clearly one of things Arturo had to do was to get a better idea of the size of this Rufanig empire and its military capabilities. He turned to Oween. "Is there someone around here who can give me a better idea of the history of these Rufanig and their empire?"
Oween considered this question for some time before he half smiled. "There is old Menio, who lives up Alauna way. He's a bit of an oddball, leastways most think he's not all there in the head, you know what I mean. He used to be a scholar or something down south at Londinium I was told, but ran into problems with Constantius I think, anyway, his daughter had married a chap from Alauna and he came up here just in time for the Scotti to wreck the place. His son-in-law died fighting and his daughter was carried off by the Scotti raiders although somehow or other he managed to get away with his granddaughter who still lives with him."
"Can't have been easy raising a girl when you are an old man."
"I guess." Oween muttered, the suddenly thoughtful look on his face meant he must have been struck by this thought. "Anyways, he's the only bloke I could think of around here who has any serious book learning."
Arturo considered his options. He really lacked enough local knowledge to know what the best course of action would be, or even what options he had available, which he found very frustrating. He was getting the impression that Rufanig Empire was on its last legs, despite Oween’s optimism. You didn’t transition from a cash-based economy to a barter based one unless the economy was declining or even self-destructing. The abandoned forts and withdrawn troops were not a good sign either when these Rufanig weren’t apparently fighting a major war which would need said troops. All of it meant there had to be possibilities locally, especially given the technological innovations he could maybe introduce. "So how dangerous will it be to visit this Menio?" Mind you the idea of transforming a pre-industrial society to one that could build a space ship had to be the most daunting task he had ever contemplated!
"Depends. You're so obviously not from around here that it may be a problem, particularly if we happen to run into a real Rufanig patrol or locals with a grudge against foreigners, which a lot do on account of the raids by the Scotti and Pechti you see.” He paused and looked at Arturo. “Although you don't really look like a Scotti or a Pechti for that matter of course. And then there be quite a few people who I need to avoid for one reason or another." He finished rather lamely trying very hard not to look too sheepish. Arturo's impression that Oween had been operating on the seedy side of the law was reinforced by the man's obvious desire to avoid certain people. Not that there actually seemed to be much real law hereabouts.
To get to the farm they had to leave the confines of the hills or mountains and head down a short way into the farmlands. Cresting a small ridge brought a vista of green fields, numerous stands of trees which became more orderly further away from the hills and several farm houses could be seen in various places in the surrounding area, most giving off a small plume of smoke from an internal hearth. The grass and trees were a vibrant green, much greener and more intense than almost anywhere Arturo had been before. The plants on his own home world were more of a purple green and those of the planet the Fleet Academy was one tended to a dull olive shade, even though they were all descendent from Earth plants introduced during the terraforming process.
But here the plants were a brilliant green, even the brush and scrub bordering the fields and forest edges. The dull colours he had noticed in the lake valley were a result of the overcast skies and shadows thrown by the hills obviously as out here, in the bright sunshine they were now experiencing, the sheer brightness of the greens was astounding. He wanted to share this with Oween but realised the other man was used to the local flora and a comment on the colour might seem a bit too odd.
They had neared the farm Oween intended to get the green stuff from and he bade Arturo wait in a small copse of bushes while he went to carry out his transaction. While he was gone Arturo could smell the mixture of wood smoke from the farm’s internal hearth and odour of piss and faeces from the farm latrine which could not be too far from where he was concealed. He carefully considered all the information he had learnt so far as he waited for Oween to return. Clearly he had landed at the outer extremity of a large well organised state, admittedly one that seemed to be on the decline. Being a good democrat, a requirement of being an officer in the Federation Navy, he was not overly fond of emperors, kings and other hereditary dictatorships. The several petty dictatorships he had seen on some of the backward planets he had visited while serving in the navy had not filled him with any great enthusiasm for that sort of rule either.
His history courses at the Naval College and his later experiences among the stars with colonies that had backslid since the fall of the Empire allowed him to appreciate that primitive societies tended towards these types of governments, but that didn’t mean he had to like it though. Or not try and change it for that matter, he smiled to himself. Hmmm. Come the revolution! That was a phrase so old no one really knew where it came other than it was from pre-sp
aceflight Earth.
Oween finished the transaction at the farm quickly and they headed back towards the lake valley, a dubious looking cloth sack with interesting lumps inside it grasped in Oween’s hand. After they had travelled a bit he looked over at Arturo in a considering manner. "You got any money?"
Arturo shook his head. "Only what your mate had on him."
"Bugger."
"Do we need more?"
"Could always do with more money." Oween smiled. "Trouble is the Rufanig coins are disappearing."
"You said that the other day. What do you mean, disappearing?"
"People aren't using them like they used to. I think they be hoarding them or something cause there's hardly any around these days. One of the reasons the army collects the taxes in kind these days." He paused for a minute before continuing. "I suppose the loss of the garrisons is the main reason. Not that there were all that many new coins being shipped out here for the troops pay in recent years, but that still doesn't explain where all the ones already here have gone."
Arturo thought about the matter as they walked through the sparse countryside. The land was well watered, too well Arturo decided, with the soil continually leeched by the rain. Given that where he was seemed to be the outer fringes of the Empire surrounded by barbarians who did not use coins for trade themselves but rather the base metal they made from according to Oween, he imagined that without local troops being paid with coins from a central mint the natural tendency would be for the hard currency to drain both inwards for purchases of needed manufactured and luxury items not available locally and outwards as payment for trade goods and as booty in successful raids. Something to consider further, along with the trade patterns and such which the local situation would create.
"So, we need to restart the local economy amongst other things. Are there any mines of valuable metal around here?" He asked.