Secundus shrugged. “I have your back, Thomasius. This might help me as well.”
He rose and left Volkert alone by the fire.
The young German stretched his hands toward the flames, so near that they almost touched them.
Nevertheless, he was very cold.
9
Berhan cherished three things in his position: wealth, power and slaves.
Especially the slaves.
He rose from his bed, and stretched himself. He merely wore a cloth wrapped around his loins. The heavy wooden doors of his bedroom were locked. He knew that hardly a sound could get out of the room.
And there has been a lot going on. Berhan regarded himself as a very strong man, a man who had to prove this strength, even if only for himself. That he expressed contempt for his wife, he was quite aware of, but didn’t care. The marriage had in any case been subordinated exclusively to political ends. Thus, he had tied himself more closely to the house of the Emperor, and in this way he had finally attained the position he had so cherished a good half a year ago, that of the Governor of Adulis, the representative of the Emperor, residing in far away Aksum, the second-largest city of the Empire.
He turned and looked at the body of the young woman who was still lying on the sheets. Whoever looked closely realized that the chest was neither raised nor lowered. She was dead.
With the expression of slight regret, the Governor sighed. The bloody wounds that he had inflicted on her everywhere had certainly not led to death, he knew, for this was not the first time he had amused himself in such a way. But when, in wild ecstasy, he had laid his hands around the neck of the barely 20-year-old, he must have pressed a bit too long.
Berhan was a strong man. He admired his muscular arms. Women who didn’t know his preferences considered him an attractive man. Even his own wife had once considered him a good-looking spouse and consented to marry, instead of leading the miserable life of a distant relative at the imperial court. She had stopped rejoicing quite fast.
Berhan didn’t beat her, of course. He didn’t want to jeopardize the favor of the Negusa Nagast, King of Kings, the Emperor of Aksum.
It was bad enough that the Emperor was so different in his attitudes. Mehadeyis was a good ruler, they all said, perhaps somewhat feebly and too much prone to the suggestions of his advisors. Berhan belonged to this illustrious circle, so he could do more or less what he liked. If not only …
He grimaced. The good humor he had felt had vanished. This always happened when he thought of the young Ouazebas. This man was not even eighteen years old, and he, too, had the ear of the Emperor. Moreover, there was the rumor that he was chosen by the old Mehadeyis, himself without a son, as his successor. Not only did Berhan despise this. Ouazebas was honest in an almost absurd way. He was diligent, able to read the Holy Scriptures in Greek and Latin, and he had already several times focused the imperial mind on the needs of simple subjects and the poor. His great role-model, it was said, was Ezana, the predecessor of the Mehadeyis, who had brought Christianity into the country.
A wise and honest ruler, gracious and righteous. That’s what Ouazebas strived for, there was no doubt about it.
Berhan spat on the floor.
He and his allies wouldn’t allow that to pass.
Ouazebas was one who would get rid of someone like him, especially if he were to learn of the little jollies of the Governor.
Gebre Berhan cherished his newly acquired position too much to take this risk.
He sighed again and dressed himself. The day was before him. His servants, discreet as always, would dispose of the dead body, as they had already done one time or another when Berhan’s strength had led to similar results. Not a topic he’d waste too much thought on.
As he dressed, he began to focus on the biggest problem that lay ahead of him today. It was the delegation of Roman travelers, who had been found in the ambassador’s house alongside the apparently murdered body of this most important representative of their neighbors. There were no ordinary Roman travelers; they carried the seal of the Emperor with them, had a letter of escort from the Egyptian governor, and rumors said that some of them belonged to the time-wanderers of whom strange stories had been heard in Adulis.
The suspects had spent the night in a dungeon, and now the Governor, Gebre Berhan, was expected to make a decision.
Berhan sighed a third time.
This was the problem with power, wealth and influence. They resulted in a certain commitment to do certain things.
If he didn’t like one thing, then it was obligations.
Once he left his house, he had already forgotten about the dead slave in his bed.
The path took him from his villa to the residence of the Governor, a splendid white stone building, not far from the port. The port was Adulis’ life-line, from here almost the entire foreign trade of Aksum was carried out – and also any military expedition that couldn’t be done over the mainland. Aksum was an expanding empire and thus one that gained great riches. Only 30 years ago had the kingdom of Kush been conquered. Further conquests in the East followed. And this phase had not yet been completed. Aksum was one of the four greatest empires in the world and was named in a breath with Rome, Persia and distant China. The palace of the Governor, in which Berhan resided, testified to the self-esteem of an aspiring magnificence.
When the Governor was led by his guards to the auditorium and had taken his place on the elevated chair, which was worthy of his position, the officials poured into the room. Berhan felt only contempt for this class of the Aksumite administrators, even though he was fully aware of the necessity of their existence. The imperial bureaucracy, as his impression was, developed a disastrous life on its own with the expansion of the Empire. It was as if there was another power next to the Emperor and his deputies, a power that couldn’t be grasped with hands, which seemed to be submissive and attentive, but one even a Negus had to show respect for. Berhan, too, found himself, already from a natural tendency, to rely more and more on the services of the officials and not only to delegate tasks to them, but to give more and more freedom in the manner of execution. He had already begun to lose sight of all affairs attached to his office.
The Governor shook his head slightly.
There were things he could not leave to the officials for political reasons. One of these matters was now imminent.
He focused his mind.
The doors were opened and some tired and slightly filthy figures were led into the room. Like everywhere, the stay in an Aksumite dungeon was by no means agreeable, and that was clearly visible in the prisoners. Some of the men, who were now standing before the Governor, were remarkably tall for Romans. Berhan remembered the rumors about the time-wanderers and wondered if he was in the presence of some of them.
An interpreter stood next to the prisoners. Berhan waved his hand. He spoke Greek fluently and expected from a delegation from Rome that they all mastered this language. He didn’t trust translators.
“Bow down to the Governor of Adulis,” the Master of Ceremonies proclaimed, also in Greek. The men understood the order and produced a bow Berhan almost rated as appropriate. He was usually used to a bit more respect.
He turned to the commander of the town guard, who had also entered the room with the prisoners. The soldier, a veteran of the war against the Kushite empire, once served as the Nagast of a Sarawit, the leader of a regiment, and he had been given this prominent position in return for his merits. The gray-haired Nagast stepped forward. His bow was even less impressive than that of the prisoners. Berhan had to live with it. The old man had good political connections and was close to the generals at the court of the King of Kings. His son served in the guard in Aksum. He was imperturbably loyal and completely unimaginative. It wasn’t worthwhile to begin any shady business with him.
“Speak!” was all Berhan had to say.
“Lord, these men were arrested in the house of the Roman merchant and ambassador Diderius Latius. They had o
btained illegitimate access, and beside them lay the murdered figure of the ambassador. We took the men into custody.”
“Have they resisted?”
“No, sir.”
“Have they been questioned?”
“Yes, sir. They have legitimization from the Roman governor in Egypt. They are on an official mission, not ordinary thieves or assassins.”
“What did they want in the house of Diderius?”
“He had been mentioned to them as a contact person for accommodation and further organization of the trip. They claim that the outer gate was open when they arrived, and Diderius was found dead.”
“You have not seen anyone else?”
“No.”
“What did the slaves see?”
“Most of the slaves were out for work today. The major-domo found Diderius murdered in the morning, and at once ran for a guard for support. When he came back with the soldiers, the prisoners were present. The slave has blamed them for the murder.”
“Ah, has he?”
Berhan looked at the prisoners for a moment. They didn’t seem to be particularly intimidated, and they obviously trusted in their official status as ambassadors of Rome. The Governor had to admit that this trust was not completely unjustified: In fact, one wouldn’t be able to deal with them as with ordinary murder suspects. Besides, the likelihood that these men had just arrived in Adulis was very likely to have had something to do with the death of Diderius.
Berhan knew this quite well, he had himself paid the assassin and dispatched the man in time to let it look like the Romans had assassinated him.
He allowed himself a fine smile. In this elegant way, he had at least learned that the attempt had been successful. “The slave was interrogated?”
“Under torture, sir.”
“And what proof does he have for his accusation? Were these men seen killing Diderius?”
“No.”
The Governor frowned. Again, he looked pensively at the prisoners. Listening to the whole conversation with the soldier in Greek, they must have understood most of it. “Who speaks for you, Romans?”
A man whose ancestors apparently came from Africa stepped forward. “Aurelius Africanus, Trierarch of the Roman Fleet.”
“Africanus, yes?” Berhan allowed himself another smile. The arrogance of the Romans was sometimes a bit too much, he thought.
“Yes, sir.”
“What is the goal of your mission, Trierarch? I heard you wanted to go to Aksum.”
“That’s true, Governor. We seek an audience with the King of the Kings.”
“What does Rome want?”
“We ask permission to look for commercial goods in the highlands.”
“A trade mission, then? The rumor is that Rome is in search of allies in the struggle against the Persians.”
Everyone knew the archemnity between Rome and the Persians. The rule of the Sassanids was a thorn in the eyes of the Romans. They argued about Armenia and always waged war with each other. Finally, however, it was heard that Shapur III was interested in a peace settlement with Rome. Nevertheless, Berhan’s assumption had not been unrealistic, not least because Aksum had far-reaching interests in the East and therefore could have the intention of forming an alliance that excluded the Persians.
“I don’t know about these rumors,” Africanus replied. “But the Emperor has other problems, I think.”
“The Goths,” Berhan said musing. “In Adulis, we’ve heard of Adrianople. Valens is dead, they say. I regret the loss of your ruler.”
“We’re sorry, too. The Goths are now pacified.”
“The news of the Battle of Thessaloniki has also come to our attention.” Berhan glanced at the tall figures who had not spoken to each other so far. “There are also rumors about so-called time-wanderers and a mighty, steely ship with gods as crew.”
“There have indeed been many remarkable things happening in Rome,” Africanus replied evasively. It was clear that if he wasn’t forced to do so, he just wasn’t interested talking about these things.
“You were found in a compromising situation.”
“The death of the ambassador surprises us as much as it does anyone. We have counted on his help to get to Aksum.”
“Did he have trouble in Rome? Has his family fallen into disgrace?”
“I’m not aware of anything related to him. He was named to us as the most important contact in Adulis. The Governor of Egypt spoke with respect about him.”
“In fact, your envoy was very much respected and popular here. A successful trader, too.” Too successful for his own business interests, the Governor added in his thoughts. But the problem was solved now. At this hour, his men were already active in taking over all those parts of the small Roman trade center that Berhan had long been concerned about.
“That’s how we heard.”
“A very regrettable occurrence,” Berhan said. He turned back to the commander. “Was the house of the murdered man searched?”
“The major-domus had it checked, sir.”
“And?”
Berhan knew the answer, at least he had given appropriate orders.
“Gold is missing, Roman and Aksumite coins. As much as two men can easily and unobtrusively carry through the streets.”
“Ah,” the administrator said. “And this gold was found among the prisoners?”
The officer looked to the ground. “No, sir. Maybe they hid it in time.”
“Nothing in the house.”
“No.”
“I understand.”
The gold Berhan knew in the pockets of the assassins. By this, the victim had paid for the balance due for his own assassination. The Governor thought this a very practical solution. He smiled at Africanus. “It seems to me as if you your arrest can be called a bit premature.”
The Trierarch bowed his head. “It is only proper to investigate events from all angles.”
“Excessive caution can cause damage. We want good relations with Rome. If a shadow falls on our relationship with the Emperor, this wouldn’t please the Negusa Nagast.”
“We agree. We want everything to be clarified in regard to this case. The death of Diderius is a loss for the Empire.”
“Your cooperation is welcome,” Berhan said. He leaned back. “Bring chairs for my guests.”
This made it clear to all parties that the man had made a decision. Berhan watched under half-closed eyelids as the former prisoners visibly relaxed. He suppressed a smile. And then he remembered another idea he kept in mind, to which he immediately congratulated himself. Fate was in his favor and put everything together.
When the former prisoners had made themselves comfortable, he rose again. “Please be so kind and don’t tell the Negusa Nagast too much about this little misunderstanding,” he asked Africanus, but turned to all of them.
The Trierarch bowed his head. “We do not want to make anyone uncomfortable. But perhaps we don’t even get an audience with the Emperor. Diderius had wanted to help us in this regard.”
Perfect, Berhan thought. Life is perfect.
“You will surely get an audience. I myself will give you a letter of recommendation to the Negusa Nagast. And you will have a guard that will lead you to Aksum. Unfortunately, the trade route to the capital is also infested by robbers. I don’t want you to be harmed.”
“Thank you very much, Governor. Above all, a letter of recommendation should help us a lot.”
“I’ll personally seal it. And you need gifts for the Negusa. The old man has a sentimental soul, and we all respect him very much. If your wish is to gain certain trade concessions, it will be necessary to influence his mood positively. He has his preferences.”
“We would be very grateful for any advice in this regard.”
Berhan waved to an older man who had been waiting in the background. He stepped forward and bowed. “Haleb is here to support you wherever he can. He knows the esteemed Negusa almost better than I do. He’ll advise you. He will immediate
ly provide you with suitable accommodation in my palace. You have spent the night in the dungeon, and you are tired, hungry and filthy. You certainly want a bath and a good meal.”
The mention of both sparked an expectant glow in the eyes of his guests, and Berhan knew he had chosen the right words. “Haleb! Bring these men into the palace. They are to receive everything necessary for their well-being. Prepare the trip to Aksum. I wish our Roman friends to be equipped with everything. Help them wherever you can!”
“Yes, sir!” Haleb bowed again. Berhan rose.
“Trierarch, let us continue this conversation once you have been taken care of. Recuperate and feed yourself. Haleb here will show you the way.”
“We thank you, Governor!”
The Romans also rose and left the hall under bows. When Haleb wanted to join them, Berhan waved toward him. They put their heads together for a few moments. No one could hear the soft murmur, but Haleb nodded several times, then hurriedly left the audience hall.
Berhan looked satisfied. One could rely on Haleb. He had held him in his service for over ten years and had never regretted it. Haleb was discreet and inventive. He had already removed the remnants of the previous night without anyone noticing it, he had taken care of the two assassins who had killed the Romans, and he would provide the gifts for the Negusa Nagast, for him and for his successor, the young Ouazebas. Dignified, precious gifts, as expected from a foreign delegation. Haleb would have to spend a lot of money on it.
But it would be worth it.
Berhan was quite sure of that.
10
“I don’t understand you. I actually don’t want to understand you.”
Rheinberg looked at the tabletop in the Captain’s cabin of the Saarbrücken. From outside, he could hear the gentle rippling of the sea, the waves breaking on the steel body of the cruiser. He had felt a strange emotion of peace when, after so many weeks, he had returned to the ship. He had villas and palaces opened for him, wealth and luxury for the highest military dignitary of the Roman Empire, but it was here, in the small steel chamber of the Captain’s cabin, in which Rheinberg really felt at home.
The Emperor's Men 4: Uprising Page 6
