The Emperor's Men: Emperor

by Dirk van den Boom

  He hoped that all of this would pass quickly. He wanted to disappear faceless in the crowd of others.

  “Enough, enough,” Theodosius shouted, laughing. “The good Thomasius might vanish into the ground right now! We want to begin with our deliberations!”

  Gratefully, Volkert took his assigned seat at the table, while the Emperor and Rheinberg positioned themselves before a large map of the Empire, which would serve as an orientation for all of them. All attention now focused solely on the Emperor, for which Volkert was extremely grateful.

  “First, may I introduce you to all our esteemed guests,” Theodosius raised his voice as they all sat down and stared forward silently. “This is Lucius Gaudentius, the Comes Africae, and at the same time the supreme coordinator of the troops of the African provinces, who will join us shortly. Together we will muster a force of more than 35,000 men, enough to seek the final decision against Maximus.”

  Gaudentius took a step forward, bowed and then waved. Applause greeted him. He was well-known to most men here, and came from an old and respected aristocratic family, as Volkert had been told in advance. He looked confident and sympathetic, someone who knew what he wanted, and who was willing to risk it. So he was in the right company now.

  “Noble Gaudentius will now explain to us the preparations of the African prefects,” said Theodosius, “and then we will set a timetable.”

  He paused for a moment.

  “A schedule to destroy our enemy, the traitor and murderer Maximus!”

  Cheers came up. Volkert cheered, but he had no heart for it. Then Gaudentius began to explain all the details. Volkert initially only listened with half an ear.

  Traitors and murderers?

  Something was ringing in him.

  7

  After the long meeting, Rheinberg and Dahms wandered through the balmy African night toward the large, well-equipped tent that they occupied together. Behind them, almost hidden in the dark, four men from Rheinberg’s bodyguard followed. Memories were awakened in regard to the assassination attempt, and involuntarily Rheinberg touched where the sword had pierced him. The wound had healed superbly and was visible only through her scar – and sometimes a bit of pain that reminded him of caution.

  Even if an attempt in the middle of one’s own camp was unlikely.

  Nevertheless, Rheinberg now groped for the butt of his pistol, which he wore under his robe, and felt the reassuring hardness of the handgun. He led a life, despite all of his power and high office, in which he had to fear for his life daily. That left marks, as Aurelia had told him once or twice before. He looked older than his years suggested, and that wouldn’t get any better.

  Maybe after all this was over, he could just take a vacation.

  “And what do you say?” Dahms asked after a few minutes of silence. “We seem to have a real chance to end it once and for all.”

  “That’s true. Once we have the African troops assembled, we will land in Italy and defeat Maximus!” Rheinberg was convinced of his words. The meeting had been very successful. The plans were as watertight as they could be.

  “And if the rumors are true that Maximus wants to follow us to Africa and attack us here?”

  “Same way. It will be even easier for us. He’s just welcome to try.”

  Dahms nodded, but Rheinberg could only guess what he really thought. When they reached their tent, both their faces were illuminated by the fires burning before them. They stood in front of the canopy of the entrance and looked at the flickering flames.

  “What happens after that, Jan?” Dahms asked softly. “If Theodosius governs the whole Empire – as it has been in our past –, what shall we do then?”

  “The Huns,” Rheinberg reminded him.

  “Is that so? On the one hand, there was this report of ill-fated Sedacius, according to which the Huns operate farther west, much closer to our frontiers than expected.”

  Rheinberg stated in silence that Dahms spoke of “our” borders. Like all of them, over time he had begun to perceive himself no longer as a foreign body in this epoch and to feel a certain loyalty to the circumstances here. Whether this was based on reciprocity, Rheinberg couldn’t say with equal certainty. He doubted it.

  “On the other hand,” the engineer continued, “more and more reports have arrived in recent weeks that the activity of the Huns has diminished. Lastly, a letter from our new allies, the Quadian King, who said that he could no longer find Huns in his territory and beyond, though he sent many scouts.”

  “Perhaps the victory of Sedacius intimidated the Huns?”

  Dahms made a doubtful face. “Huns are not so easily intimidated. They put away defeats easier than we do. I can not believe that. But maybe they have become a bit more careful. Allow their approach some more time. But if that makes them better prepared, there’s still a lot to come.”

  Rheinberg put a hand on Dahms’ shoulder.

  “We should cross that bridge once we reach it.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. But there is still another question left.”

  “Which?”

  “Von Klasewitz.”

  Rheinberg let out a snort. “What should be with him? He made his decisions. That he is on the other side can’t surprise us. He will pay for his betrayal. If the developments allow for it, it’ll be my pleasure to do it personally.”

  Dahms surely felt the cold anger and determination in Rheinberg’s words and nodded in satisfaction. That was probably exactly what he wanted to hear. And if Rheinberg wouldn’t find the opportunity, Dahms was obviously quite ready to relieve him of that burden.

  They stood still for a few moments in the cool night air, before they went inside the tent, which was more like a small house. Servants were waiting for them. One told Rheinberg that Aurelia was already sleeping in her part of the tent. The hardships of the journey, combined with the physical effects of her pregnancy, showed their effects.

  Rheinberg was still struggling to get used to the idea of fatherhood. It was now an incentive for him to create conditions that would allow his child to grow up in peace and security.

  “Bring tea!” Dahms said, and they sat down on the couches provided to round off the evening. However, “tea” was by no means to be understood as Rheinberg and Dahms knew it from their time. The tea plant had come to Europe only in the 17th century. The Romans knew hot potions from different herbs, which resembled in taste and application rather classic healing teas. Thyme, chamomile and other plants were well-known, including their medicinal effects. It was better than nothing, but not what the two men really wanted to drink.

  “I’m not allowed to tell you,” Dahms mumbled, “but the men of the Saarbrücken are busy making you a very special crib out of old metal parts. With chimney and so on. It will look awfully silly, and Aurelia will accept it with iron politeness then banish it from her eyes as quickly as possible. But that’s why you should prepare her for it. The men mean well, they just … well, just don’t know.”

  Rheinberg grinned. “I will be pleasantly surprised and pleased. Aurelia is an outstanding actress. I wouldn’t be astonished if you’d even see tears in her eyes. It will be heart-wrenching.”

  “Then all will be well.”

  The servants brought the tea, the usual herbal mixture, sweetened with honey. It didn’t taste too bad and was probably horribly healthy. For a moment, the two men silently dedicated themselves to the drink. In contrast to the “real” tea, this one didn’t stimulate but was rather relaxing, which should be conducive to the subsequent bedtime.

  “Jan …”

  “Yes?”

  “It is him, isn’t it?”

  Rheinberg looked at Dahms, not asking, but with a slight, knowing smile. He nodded.

  “Without doubt. I didn’t recognize him at first, but it gnawed at me all evening, and when he spoke once or twice, it became clear to me. It’s Volkert, no doubt.”

  The engineer set down the cup. “What do we do with him?”

  “Nothing.
He has established himself well. I’m pretty proud of him.”

  “A great guy,” Dahms confirmed. “Who would have thought that? Shall we not tell him?”

  “On a private occasion, if it fits. He shouldn’t be afraid. He should decide for himself whether others should know. It’s his life. He went through a lot and paid enough for his mistake – which was possibly my fault as well. He is now master of his destiny, as far as we all are.”

  Dahms nodded. “A good idea. I agree. He didn’t fall on his head and accomplished amazing things. He will throw himself into battle with all his strength.”

  “What about Julia? She’s also in the camp, along with her father.”

  “And her daughter. Volkert’s daughter, as you have told me. Shouldn’t he know about that?”

  “I’m sure he knows or will soon find out. Then he will find a way to get in touch with her. This is a family affair. We only interfere when it gets loud.”

  “Hm?”

  “Theodosius can solve the problem with a simple decree if he wants. But I think we should not interfere from the outside. They are both safe here, as much as they can be. We leave her alone. They are no longer the same young people we separated a year ago. They’ve become far more self-confident and mature, if you ask me. ”

  “I think so. The Volkert at the meeting was a very different man from the Ensign of our day.” Rheinberg emptied his cup and set it down. “I’ll talk to the Emperor soon enough. He should know. Maybe he will settle things quickly and calmly. He thinks a lot of Volkert.”

  Dahms shook his head. “We’re both older and wiser, aren’t we?”

  Rheinberg looked into the empty cup in front of him and sighed. He recalled his thoughts from some time ago, about his appearance, the burden of the office, the marks they left behind, and the almost heretical desire for relaxation and idleness. Then he looked at Dahms, who was already much older than Rheinberg anyway and on whom all the excitement of the past few months had also not passed without a trace. He smiled at him, almost forgiving. “Older, my friend. And more determined.”

  8

  Helpful to be a hardworking legionary.

  Centurion Salius, who was no longer performing as a centurion but the odd decurion, had made a great effort not only to be industrious but also to be obedient – as well as the other comrades of the special troop founded by military prefect Renna, who joined the army of Maximus.

  Nice, hardworking and competent. And once he had indicated that he had experiences with the open sea, he had risen immediately in the eyes of his superiors. The number of marines available to Maximus was limited. The bulk of the Roman fleet was either in Constantinople, which had once again declared open opposition to the usurper, or had joined Theodosius. When Salius could state credibly to have a little sea experience, he was immediately a little bit closer to Magister Militium von Klasewitz. Salius was commissioned to train willing legionaries as marines to defend the ships in the unlikely event of an attack during their passage to Africa. Since von Klasewitz inspected the three large transports almost daily, Salius was given several opportunities to talk to the traitor and prove his qualities.

  Fortunately, von Klasewitz didn’t remember him anymore. Back then, when the nobleman had instigated a mutiny on the Saarbrücken, it had been Salius and his men who had turned the matter in the direction of Rheinberg. Von Klasewitz and his assistant Tennberg had fled in the confusion, and since then Salius had made it his personal duty to make up for this mistake. When Renna had assigned him the delicate mission of infiltration, he had said goodbye to him with the phrase, “Salius, you must do what you have to do!”

  Both had understood exactly what was meant by that.

  But so far von Klasewitz had always been accompanied by his bodyguards. Being assigned to serve in this bodyguard was the most important milestone for Salius and his few unidentified comrades. If you were in the immediate vicinity of the man and enjoyed his trust – as far as anyone in the world enjoyed the confidence of the traitor anyway –, then it could be done what one had to do.

  Salius would try to survive that occasion and then escape.

  But that wasn’t his priority. The time-wanderer and as many men as possible from his close staff with him had to die. It had to be a deep cut and then best at a time that was considered ideal. Not now as Maximus’ loss was easily offset.

  Salius had to strike once the German’s decisions were of real importance. Just before the battle. During the battle. His death not only had to tear a vulnerable gap, it had to lead to a deep, festering and crippling wound.

  So it wasn’t time yet for murder.

  Now it was time for dinner.

  Salius had a busy day behind him. As an instructor, he enjoyed the privilege of being provided with food in the officers’ kitchen tent instead of cooking for himself or having to hire a simple legionary to serve him. The chefs in the large kitchen tent understood their craft better, and the choice of food was excellent. Von Klasewitz had decreed that good food was extremely important for morale and that everything had to be done to ensure its steady supply.

  Salius didn’t disagree.

  He was a little early and the large tent with its numerous benches and tables was still relatively empty. A buffet of considerable proportions had been set up, and all sorts of servants were ready to fill the bowls and plates of the hungry. Amphorae with wine had been lined up and there was also beer for the friends of a rougher taste. Salius grabbed a wooden plate and looked at the food presented with an appreciative look.

  “Noble lord, may I serve you?”

  Salius looked up and looked into the submissive eyes of a young, plump woman with rough hands and equally crude features. Her reddened skin spoke of hard kitchen work. Her clumsy body was stuck in a baggy working gear that made her already unfavorable body even uglier. Her expression spoke, Salius thought, of a lack of intelligence, a staid woman with no prospect of ever being able to escape from this existence. Having been hired as a kitchen helper here in the camp was probably already the best thing that would ever happen to her. With great luck, one night she would be nailed by a drunken legionary who valued so much soft meat.

  Salius forced a smile. “Thanks, I’ll take a look at the selection. You have all done a good job. One doesn’t know where to start.”

  The woman grinned a little stupidly, but apparently touched pleasantly by the simple praise. “Thank you, noble sir. Call me if you need anything!”

  Salius shivered when he remembered that for a simple kitchen aid “anything” included services that he didn’t even want to think about. He kept his smile and turned away.

  He was about to open a sweet cake for starters when he felt a new presence next to him. He looked up and saw Lucius Screpius, one of his own men who had recently made it to decurion. Screpius, a gifted artisan, had also been promoted to instructor and shared the privileges of his co-conspirator.

  “All is well?”

  “Everything is great. The cake looks good.”

  “Yes …” Screpius grabbed a piece of biscuit and looked up as the kitchen assistant approached him.

  “Sir …”

  “No, no, thanks!” the man protested, and the woman lowered her eyes sadly, then withdrew. The eyes of Screpius lingered for a long moment on the waddling figure.

  “Do not tell her you like her,” Salius said with a faint joke, as they looked for a seat.

  Screpius didn’t return the smile but seemed more thoughtful. He watched the woman with searching interest, how she served the other guests, how she submissively accepted orders, received insults without further emotion, suffered ridicule, or was simply ignored as if she did not exist. She carried food from the kitchen and cleared away leftovers.

  Salius couldn’t gauge what caused Screpius to pay so much attention to this subject. He was about to open his mouth and ask again when his mate was already speaking.

  “I know this woman,” Screpius said, shaking his head. “That is quite unexpected.”<
br />
  “You know her?”

  “Only too well. And not how you think. I arrested her once when we helped Ravenna’s city guard on Renna’s orders.”

  Salius looked at Screpius in alarm. “Tell me!”

  “Her name is Flavia. Don’t let her appearance fool you. She deliberately uses her modest shell to keep everyone in the dark about her true intentions and abilities. That’s worked fine with you just now, or am I wrong?”

  “Go on.”

  Screpius took a sip of wine. “She’s a shrewd and intelligent cheater, blackmailer and thief, and probably a murderer, they say. And she has escaped every time. When we captured her, we found her carrying bags of gold stolen from a senator. Two weeks later, shortly before her execution, she disappeared again. We had overlooked gold, enough to bribe the guards and cheat herself to the freedom. Then she went underground. And now she is here.” Screpius bit into the cake and moaned appreciatively.

  “Then she fits in well with this company,” Salius said thoughtfully.

  Screpius looked at him inquiringly and asked with his mouth full, “I don’t like your expression, my friend. I don’t like it at all.”

  Salius grinned. His mind developed a spontaneous plan. “I think I’ve always underestimated the attractiveness of fat women,” he mumbled. He ignored Screpius’ moan again – this one out of sheer despair – and turned around. His searching gaze found Flavia, who was just putting a jug of wine on the table of some dining officers. “Hey, you there! Woman!”

  Flavia came out of the gloom, the attitude full of dumbfounded zeal to serve the gentlemen at once. She shuffled in quickly, anxious not to let the noble gentleman wait unnecessarily for even a second.

  Damn, Salius thought to himself. She is good! She is really good!

  “Greetings, Flavia,” Screpius said in a measured tone.

  “The Lord knows my name? I am honored, sir. What can I bring you?”

  “Tell me where you went to after your escape. Evidently you didn’t do too badly.”

  A remarkable transformation took place before Salius’ eyes. While she seemed submissive and stupid, now her body stretched. She was no less plump than she had been before, but there was an alert intelligence in her eyes, an unexpected hardness about her mouth. The thick, raw hands, just like wet rags dangling at her side, suddenly seemed strong, gripping … almost menacing. Her posture betrayed inner tension and strength. Her eyes were calculating, careful, but without fear. “I must know you, sir,” she said, now carefully articulated, with a lurid sharpness of tone.