The Emperor's Men: Emperor

by Dirk van den Boom

“Maximus vilifies our ‘magic,’” Volkert replied.

  “Ambrosius vilifies it, and that’s only because Rheinberg preaches tolerance,” Theodosius said. “If Rheinberg would’ve used his fire catapults immediately against Arians and other heretics, Ambrosius would’ve called him an angel sent by God.”

  Volkert nodded. “But do we want Ambrosius to gain access to this power through Maximus?”

  “He already has guns,” Rheinberg pointed out. “Much worse cannot come in the foreseeable future. A more liberal and prosperous Eastern half of the Empire offers refuge. We could even benefit from it.”

  “This will lead to another civil war,” Volkert insisted. “If Maximus realizes that lots of smart and industrious people are leaving the West because their religion is not tolerated there, then he’ll eventually have to risk war if he doesn’t want his half of the Empire to bleed out.”

  Theodosius nodded.

  “All this is worth considering. Maybe the common enemy will help us too. If the threat from outside is large enough, someone like Ambrosius must also realize that there are more important issues. I even believe that Maximus will come to this insight very quickly.”

  “So what will the Emperor decide when the offer is made?” Richomer asked frankly.

  Theodosius smiled at him. “I’ll think more about it. But if the framework is right, then I’m inclined to agree. If in doubt, it gives us some time to force the decision later – and time is helpful for us, once we have the plague under control. Or Maximus manages to get the radical religious leaders somewhat contained, at least enough to keep them a bit quiet.”

  Not all were pleased, but many were relieved, as Rheinberg observed. He stretched, feeling the tiredness in his bones. It had been a long day.

  “Who should come with you for the meeting?” he asked.

  “Maximus asked for a small setup. Me, then my Magister Militium and Richomer. Two servants and the usual bodyguard. Meeting point is an old farmstead not far from the battlefield. Well visible from all sides. We can easily have troops ready, as well as Maximus.”

  “When will his troops arrive?”

  “Advance units are expected tomorrow afternoon.”

  “And Maximus himself?”

  “Marches with the main line. Two more days, not longer. He also asked for the meeting at that time.”

  Rheinberg nodded.

  “Then it is decided.”

  The meeting was over. Rheinberg walked into the open. He was tired, but an inner turmoil told him that he wouldn’t sleep yet. The decisions taken tonight would probably hunt him like a demon, and he feared that he wouldn’t get rid of him anytime soon.

  A demon who looked a damned lot like von Klasewitz.

  29

  “I just can’t believe it. That’s treason!”

  Petronius stared at Thidrek, the young priest who had just brought him the questionable news. Ambrosius’ confidant relied on the young man whom the Bishop had given him to accompany Maximus to Africa, an upright Christian, totally dedicated to the cause of the Church. And ready to do things for that cause for which he had already received extensive absolution in advance.

  “I heard it in Maximus’s tent, sir,” Thidrek said submissively. He often stayed there, reading from the scriptures, officiating for the staff, ready to render any service. A useful traveling companion, as the Emperor also found, and a silent and inconspicuous one. Exactly what Ambrosius expected of him so that he could position himself to do what was to be done one day – and given the current developments, this day would not be long in coming.

  Petronius was upset, and he wasn’t just pretending. The fact that Maximus began to become pragmatic in office had already been recognized and criticized by the Bishop early on. But to make such a defeatist, monstrous decision!

  Actually, both priests were very tired. The night’s sleep was short, then they would all march on, because tomorrow should be establishment the camp, from which they would seek the decisive battle.

  Decisive battle!

  Petronius laughed.

  If it ever came to that!

  “He just said that, brother? Are you quite sure?”

  If Thidrek was offended by the unbelief of his elder, he didn’t show it. He nodded determinedly.

  “That’s how the words fell, Petronius. He wants to offer Theodosius a peaceful solution. The Empire shall be divided – his dominion in the West, that of Theodosius in the East.”

  “Incomprehensible! The Spaniard will be, in his half, the liberal ruler, making the kind of decisions that fill us all with such great disgust! The Arians will be spared, and not only those – all other sects and the representatives of the traditional religions also will enjoy liberty! And there are so many more Arians in the East than in the West! Our purges no longer make any sense. That would de facto mean the division of the Church!”

  Petronius spoke in rage – in a subdued voice, but with quivering lips and wild gestures.

  “That’s finalizing it! Ambrosius was right with his doubts! Maximus threatens to deviate from the right path, he lacks assertiveness and honor! Make peace with Theodosius! What an absurd performance so close to victory!”

  “It seems that Maximus isn’t so convinced of this victory.”

  “Nonsense. The Lord is on our side! We cannot lose!”

  “He means that if Theodosius can escape, the civil war will drag on much longer.”

  “Then the Spaniard must die!”

  “And then there’s the problem with the plague and again …”

  “Be quiet now, Thidrek! Shut up! Enough! I don’t want to hear anymore of this idiocy!”

  The young man dutifully closed his mouth. Petronius wasn’t really angry with him. He had only reported what he had heard, and that was exactly his job. The priest didn’t have an easy task anyway. He would die soon. Whoever murdered the Emperor, the bodyguards would execute immediately, there was no doubt about that. Petronius prayed for the young man. He was sure that the Lord would take him into his kingdom in heaven. Every heavenly reward for his just deed was certain.

  Petronius forced a smile.

  “Thidrek, you did well and thank you for reporting to me immediately. Our shepherd, the great Ambrosius, appreciates your commitment beyond gratitude.”

  Thidrek smiled happily, and there was again this zealous glow in his eyes, that unconditional obedience, for which he had been chosen by the Bishop.

  An important quality, Petronius thought. The fact that Thidrek also wasn’t necessarily one of the brightest helped in this context. The Lord provided His servants with the right combination of spiritual gifts to fulfill His will. The priest found that in the less gifted the Holy Spirit sometimes burned intensely. This certainly made sense, especially in order to have pious followers who, without much thought and not plagued by doubts, executed the will of the Lord – and thus the will of the Church.

  Petronius himself was certainly destined for higher office in the Church, a bishop’s chair, a responsible task.

  So everyone found his place.

  Yes, Petronius was extremely pleased with the world in which he lived.

  What undermined his satisfaction were men like Maximus, who forgot in their so-called pragmatism that the world was heading toward the Last Judgment, and it was necessary to prepare the ground for the return of the Savior. And part of this certainly not easy task was to eradicate all heretics from the face of the earth. A Herculean challenge, but anyone who was firm in faith would face it with determination, as did Petronius.

  His eyes fell on Thidrek, who was clinging to his lips and smiling happily as he became aware of the attention of his spiritual leader.

  Petronius returned the smile.

  “Thidrek, it seems your hour will come soon.”

  “I’m ready!”

  There was no pretense, one heard that clearly. Here someone spoke who was completely committed to his cause.

  “You have prepared yourself?”

  “Every nigh
t I pray and submit to the exercises you have taught me. I cleanse my body and mind, immerse myself in the scriptures, burn the words of the Lord into my soul, that they may be my constant guidance and strengthening.”

  “Uh, yes, very good. And the knife? Is it ready?”

  Thidrek nodded eagerly. “Sharpened is the blade, sharp as the wrath of the Lord.”

  Petronius didn’t begrudge the young priest his pathos. If it helped to get into the right mood to kill Maximus, only to be slaughtered after that, then he wanted to be lenient. The result finally counted and nothing else.

  “That’s satisfactory, Thidrek. A deed like this requires both aspects – the sharpened mind and the sharpened blade. As you are a tool of God, the knife is yours. Just as God loves you and promises his blessings, so you must love and care for the blade. Just as God takes you by the hand and leads you against his enemies, you lead the weapon in his name. There is never a greater unity of human and divine will. You are blessed, Thidrek, truly blessed.”

  The young man smiled pleased and bowed.

  “Go and indulge yourself in prayer,” Petronius told him.

  Thidrek nodded, said goodbye and stepped outside. Petronius was sure that the young man would not sleep much today, but that wasn’t too bad. The thought of his own destiny, clearly drawn before him, now filled him with vitalizing freshness.

  He watched Thidrek, then turned his attention to another thought.

  Bishop Petronius of Ravenna.

  That was what Ambrosius had promised him over and over again. Sure, the congregation had a say in it, but if the shepherd of Milan recommended him, it was certainly nothing more than a formality.

  Petronius stretched. Ravenna was not without prosperity. He would occupy the villa of Senator Viscasius. Viscasius was one of the senators who had sided with Theodosius. Once the Spaniard was defeated, it would be easy to dispossess Viscasius and see to it that this particular piece of his heritage came into the hands of the Church. And it was a short step from the hands of the Church to reach the hands of Petronius.

  Yes, if he looked at it from this angle, it was, in the end, about the same thing.

  He listened.

  Thidrek had begun to recite psalms. He would now be busy and safe in his contemplation.

  Petronius smiled.

  There was still some leftover from his wine. Maybe he found some just sleep when he helped himself out with a glass of the red.

  30

  The planned meeting came about.

  Nobody had seriously objected, and the Emperor had decided. Rheinberg’s discomfort had not subsided, but he knew the inevitability of coming events and realized that his place was now in the second row. That felt somewhat comforting.

  It came about without any problems, without delays and because both sides wanted it. The venue was well-chosen to minimize mutual distrust. When the delegations arrived, they gathered in a large room prepared by the staff of both leaders. It was a brightly lit place, its wide windows inviting and distributing the sunlight. In the center stood a huge table, on each side of which chairs had been placed, each one a particularly well-upholstered armchair worthy of high-ranking dignitaries. It had been meticulously taken care that the layout and equipment looked absolutely identical for both sides to avoid being offensive or disparaging through any unwanted symbolism. On a side, snacks and drinks had been served, only trifles, but due to the variety offered, enough to cater for a legion. Some wine was available, cooled in special amphorae. The cutlery was of exquisite quality, the crystal glasses each one worth a fortune. In addition, the property had been cleaned, the toilets had been restored, and, as well, a second room for negotiations was being prepared for if the delegations would split for some reason or the two emperors would have a personal conversation – which Theodosius secretly expected, or at least hoped for. In the end, it depended on both of them. And it helped to focus thoughts together and to avoid any interference.

  The greeting was conducted in cool courtesy. It wasn’t to be expected otherwise. One would hardly express love after having been at war for some time.

  “Let’s sit down!” Theodosius invited. He had quite noticed that Rheinberg and von Klasewitz had not shaken hands. Rheinberg’s face was unmoved, he tried not to show his feelings, and so far did his job quite well. Von Klasewitz didn’t necessarily mirror this; his whole attitude seemed arrogant, even triumphant, as if to show his former captain how far he had come. The deserter was a personified provocation for Rheinberg, and Theodosius could only hope that Maximus had him under control.

  The erstwhile British governor was friendly and anything but provocative. He avoided quips and derogatory remarks, and did everything he could to pretend to be serious with Theodosius. This relaxed everyone visibly. Even if the time-wanderers didn’t like each other, it became clear that the two Emperors could talk without getting at each other’s throats.

  Two servants – one from each side – served silent wine. Everyone drank thoughtfully.

  It was Maximus who finally spoke. “Theodosius, thank you for following my suggestion.”

  “Thank you for making it.”

  The usurper nodded. “I think it’s important that we explore ways to prevent the big battle we are about to embark upon.”

  “Why should we stop? The Empire belongs to the victor.”

  “Because I’m not sure about that logic, I’d like to talk.”

  “What’s wrong with my logic?”

  Maximus smiled. Both of them knew what was wrong with that. But it was necessary to lay the ground to get to the heart of the matter and to assure one another that indeed both assumed the same. The biggest obstacle to successful negotiations was tacit assumptions about reality – as soon as it became clear that it would’ve been better to avoid this silence and to clear up misunderstandings, it was often too late and everything failed.

  “The plague has arrived in the West,” Maximus said.

  Theodosius nodded. “That was expected.”

  “The Huns are a serious danger. The time-wanderers were correct in this.”

  “It’s good that you see that. Where did they err?”

  Maximus hesitated. “I don’t think all of the reforms that Rheinberg has initiated make sense.” He gave the man a brief look, but Rheinberg sat quietly, his face unblinking, unresponsive. “Of course, this is about important spiritual questions. On the other hand, Rheinberg has also questioned a system of power that has existed for a long time. I fear that his reforms could harm the position and reputation of the Empire in the long term.”

  Rheinberg leaned forward. “Why this?”

  “This new atmosphere of liberality that you’ve created makes me uncomfortable,” Maximus went on. His tone wasn’t accusatory but analytical, almost passionless. “Not too long ago I was listening to a son of a senatorial family speculate that it would soon be time to give the Senate new and real power. The ancient republican sentiments, which are especially to be found in the tradition-conscious families with a long pedigree, are boiling up again – or have been newly awakened, I don’t know.”

  “Republican elements are perfectly compatible with the Empire,” Rheinberg replied softly.

  Von Klasewitz snorted. “Silly,” he said in a sharp voice. “Party bickering and the authority over the budget have destroyed so many things for the German Empire, I cannot list all of them. I can only point to the curse of social democracy, the criticism in regard to nobility, the cries for rights to be given even women. German society had decomposed by these elements, its natural resilience and its virtues radically questioned. The strength of the Roman Empire has always been in preserving monarchical principles!”

  “Rome has fallen.”

  “A military problem that can now be solved.”

  Rheinberg opened his mouth to reply, then obviously thought better of it. At another time, he would evidently have liked to have this discussion, but here this squabble could only be counterproductive. He would convince no one and von K
lasewitz … Rheinberg cast a glance at Theodosius, who listened with interest. One could not be so sure.

  Hopefully, Freiherr von Klasewitz had not put an idea in the mindset of the Spaniard.

  “War between us is not the solution to this problem,” Maximus said. “We need the army to defend the imperial borders. We agree that the Empire is economically in a very difficult situation. When we kill each other, our enemies benefit from it. We’re acting stupid if we keep this up.”

  Theodosius nodded. “What’s your suggestion?”

  “We share the Empire. The West to me, the East to you. We cooperate in defense against external enemies, we ensure internal trade and shipping on the Mediterranean. All other domestic issues will be solved by the respective Emperors to their taste. No mutual interference.”

  Theodosius looked at Maximus. Exactly the proposal they had expected, Rheinberg thought. And Maximus seemed serious. There was no sign that he was doing a charade here. It was visible from the outside: Rheinberg felt an unnaturally strong sense of relief. Should this war really end here? Could all of them now focus their energies on solving the really important issues? Rheinberg definitely had no problem finding his new home in Constantinople, if that was the price he had to pay. Dahms’ facilities could also be rebuilt there. He stared at von Klasewitz. He would learn to live with that, too. Somehow.

  “I expected that suggestion,” the Spaniard said truthfully.

  Maximus smiled. “Of course you did.”

  “I’ve discussed this idea with my advisers for a long time.”

  “What conclusion did you come to?”

  “Not everyone was happy about this idea.”

  “That goes for my side too. But we are the leaders. We decide.”

  “Do we always?”

  Maximus’ smile widened, and he bowed his head to the Spaniard. “We can try, can’t we?”

  Theodosius nodded. “So we’ll do that. We’ll have to discuss the details, but I’d like to let you know that I agree with the proposal.”

  Maximus hit the table with the palm of his hand. He was beaming. “This is …”