And he had made use of such a right.
Julia felt relieved.
“Let’s go,” she told Claudia, and they started walking. Her bundle was light, as was the peacefully sleeping daughter she had tied to herself. They would march to the harbor and then go to the money-lender, where after the surprise arrival of Martinus, they had restored the saved assets. It was quite possible that Martinus was thinking happily about how much he had humiliated his wife. He probably imagined that she would lead a low life as a prostitute, or be kicked back to her family, and that it would be impossible to marry her out again or begin anything meaningful with her life.
Well, Julia was a wealthy woman, and her husband didn’t know. And he also underestimated the anger of Lucia, the wife of Senator Michellus, and her energy when it came to harming an enemy. It may be that the return of Julia was, in the eyes of some, full of shame, but however much she rejected her mother and her domination, Lucia wouldn’t expel her daughter from the house, and she would seek bitter vengeance.
No one disgraced anyone from their family. She would take on Martinus Caius, and civil war or not, he would feel her long arm.
Julia’s smile widened. She herself would have no other duty but to detail the events of yesterday and give her witnesses. Witnesses of repute. Known by her father. Men without fault and blame, who would have no problem, on request, to describe the events exactly.
Julia was looking forward to it.
They reached the harbor in the late afternoon and found accommodation in the hostel they had visited before. That same evening Julia visited the money lender and collected her valuables. The owner of the hostel, well-connected in the harbor, provided a passage on the next ship that would set sail for Constantinople. There she would persevere according to her original plan, until the return journey to Ravenna seemed advisable. In fact, she assumed that this would be straightforward. Yes, there was civil war, but the ordinary inhabitants of the Empire continued to work, and trade with the West had not been interrupted. The higher ups might argue, but the citizens of Rome still felt the need to make money and were not deterred by a war.
They spent the night at the inn and left early in the morning. The coastal sailor, who was to take her away, left shortly thereafter, and they were assigned a cabin below deck along with other travelers. Julia felt relatively safe, despite not being accompanied by a man. Their fellow travelers were small traders and a few administrative officials with duties in the capital. No cutthroats, as far as she could tell. She expected a quiet crossing, apart from the occasional seasickness.
When she teamed up with Claudia for a barren but edible lunch on deck – it was a beautiful day with a fresh but not threatening wind, and the serenity of the seamen indicated that no one expected any problems –, Julia found it to be time to close another chapter.
Like all passengers, the two women had to take care of their own meal. They had stocked up on supplies and could contribute ingredients to the large cooking pot that hung over a secure fire pit – or eat cold. Seafaring had left both of them with a queasy feeling in their stomach, so they decided to eat rather sparingly. Their meal consisted of dried fruits, some bread, a piece of cheese, and the diluted wine, which was the only food served by the shipowner.
Julia pulled out a parchment when they finished eating. Her daughter happily chuckled asleep to herself. Seafaring seemed very good to her, she slept a lot and didn’t even develop any hint at seasickness symptoms.
Julia handed Claudia the document. She took it with a questioning look. Claudia read it, then her eyes widened and she focused on Julia, her mistress, with surprise on her face.
Only that Julia was no longer her mistress.
The document testified to the release of the slave Claudia. The young woman was free and thus enjoyed the Roman citizenship in accordance with the valid laws. Julia had been able to bribe a magistrate in time to authenticate the document. It had been a worthwhile, an overdue, a necessary investment.
Claudia dropped the document before she rolled it up carefully and pocketed it. It was, without doubt, her most valuable possession.
Julia said nothing at first, then after a few moments she asked the most important question almost shyly. “You’re free now. Do you still want to stay in my service for a while? I’ll pay you what I can, as a nanny and as a traveling companion.”
Claudia smiled. “I will continue to work for you, Mistress.”
Julia looked relieved but immediately raised her hand warningly. “You saved my daughter’s life. You are no longer a slave but free. I look at you as my friend. From now on, I don’t want to hear the word mistress from your mouth. I cannot pretend that you’re a noblewoman – as if that would be of any concern anyway –, but I don’t want to accept that you’re acting submissive to me … it feels … awfully wrong.”
Julia was a little surprised about herself. Only a year ago, such words would hardly have crossed her lips. However, not only her Christian upbringing, but also the disapproving words of Thomas Volkert had given her a critical attitude to slavery. He would be, she wanted to believe, righteously proud of what she had done.
Julia forced herself to think of something else. If she spent too much time brooding over her lover, it almost automatically led to deep frustration. She needed a clear and above all cool mind for what was ahead of her.
“Good … Julia,” Claudia said then, nodding hesitantly. “I’ll have a hard time, though. Certain habits do not just fall away.”
“I’ll always remind you, if need be,” Julia said, half seriously, half in jest. In fact, they both knew that in some situations Claudia would have to play the role of the servant, at least outwardly. Julia hoped that these events would become less and less with time.
The act of release had a liberating effect on her as well, she thought.
The further journey was without events of importance. They both quickly got used to the rocking ship, so their physical condition gradually improved as well. The wind was favorable, and the sailor made excellent progress. The journey lasted a few days before they saw the silhouette of Constantinople appear in front of them.
The arrival caused great excitement aboard the sailing ship. However, this was less to do with the end of the journey itself but rather with the sight of a gigantic, iron ship emptying steam from large chimneys and, accompanied by other ships, who were of another, strange construction and also blowing clouds of steam into the sky, both coinciding with them as they reached the capital. Everyone had heard of this ship before, but very few had ever seen it: it was the Saravica, the legendary vehicle of the time-wanderers.
Julia didn’t participate in the general excitement. She looked at the steaming colossus with narrowed eyes. The Saravica had left Ravenna with Magister Militium Rheinberg and many civilians on board – Senator Symmachus, for example, but also Senator Michellus. Julia’s father.
It looked as if she would return to her family faster than she had dreamed.
36
The camp was on the move. Although the attacks by Maximus’ troops had diminished, probably due to the death of Andragathius, Theodosius wanted to play it safe and pushed forward the plan to cross over to Africa. Emissaries had already prepared for the arrival of the loyalist Army in the provinces, and everyone assumed that it would be possible to make the crossing smoothly.
Part of the plan was to march further south, to the southern tip of Italy, to create as much space as possible between the loyalists and the usurpers. As soon as Maximus had appointed a new army commander, the attacks would be resumed with great vehemence, everyone was sure of that. For this reason, the shipbuilding program was pushed forward just as intensively as the recruitment of existing trade and transport vessels for troop transport. Nevertheless, not all men could be transported in one fell swoop, so plans called for the crossing to take place in three trips, each with about 8,000 to 9,000 legionaries. The weather played along and the crossing shouldn’t last long. It was therefore all set
to be able to regroup resistance against Maximus in Africa.
That was necessary, above all, because nothing was heard from the East. Recently, it became known that Rheinberg in Constantinople. What had happened then, nobody yet knew. Theodosius was wise enough not to rely on the success of the German. He had to act for himself.
So on the evening before the general departure, the Emperor invited his officers to his tent. The official occasion was a joint evening meal of all leading officers and advisors. Everyone knew, however, that the main point was to redistribute the command posts in the army. Due to the temporary division of the armed forces for the crossing, responsibilities had to be redefined. The leader of the first unit that would land in Africa was also responsible for setting up a large camp and working with the African governors. The commander of the last unit might already be exposed to an attack by Maximus. The particular situation required clear and appropriate responsibilities, and everyone expected Theodosius to use the meal to make appointments.
Thomas Volkert belonged to the circle of more than 100 invited officers. His name was on everyone’s lips. Everyone assumed that he would be entrusted with a responsible assignment.
The big tent was full of the many guests. A long table had been set up, with the Emperor’s chair at its front end. The meal was not too exquisite – Theodosius insisted that his generals and advisors renounce luxury as much as possible, especially everything that would distance them too far from the level of normal legionaries. It was certainly more comfortable here than in the tents of ordinary soldiers and they were served by slaves, there were proper dishes, and the table was pleasantly lit by large candelabra with many candles. But the food itself was rather simple with nothing particularly outstanding. And the sour wine was the same as that served to the common men. Nobody should become drunk enough here to be unable to digest the Emperor’s important orders.
Volkert sat a long way from the Emperor. He was in a strange, distant mood, as if watching a play, a mood very similar to the one he sometimes felt in dangerous situations. And this was a dangerous situation – there was less danger that he would be given an unwanted command (with which he began to resign himself to), but rather that more would be discussed here than who with which ship and when had to travel to Africa.
It would be a lot more, he thought worryfully.
When everyone had sat down, a priest spoke a prayer. Then the servants put on the appetizer, the gustatio, which today consisted of a simple salad, whose ingredients already looked a bit wilted and in which everyone began to poke more out of courtesy and less of appetite. Volkert had no appetite either and tried not to show it too clearly. He sat diagonally across from Sedacius, who of course had also been invited, along with two of his closest confidants. Only Levantus was not present because he was still injured and shouldn’t move around.
Volkert was very happy about it. Levantus had been the one he had worked with the longest, and he had learned to respect the old warhorse. Not that it had any meaning now.
Silence descended upon the gathering as Theodosius rose, cup of wine in hand. It was obvious that he wished to speak. Everyone looked at him expectantly, sometimes honestly, partly as pretense.
“Gentlemen, dear comrades and friends. Thank you for accepting my invitation. It is a pleasant evening among fellow warriors, and that is a joy that is rarely given to us. We have big tasks ahead of us. We want to realize a daring plan. There won’t be too many opportunities to eat and talk like this. Everyone will know his task after this evening, yes, maybe even his fate, I’d like to add.”
Something knotted in Volkert’s stomach. He hoped his face was the polite mask to which he wanted to force his muscles.
“There has been much talk of fate in the last few days. This is interesting for the Christian as well as the followers of other religions. On the one hand, we place our lives in the hands of God or those of Mithras, or we pray to Jupiter and Mars for help and guidance. We hope for the goodness of Sol Invictus or Artemis, but in any case we trust in divine providence. I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately. Our friends from the future have told me a saying that is quite popular in their time: ‘Help yourself, then God will help you.’ Passively and fatalistically waiting for the progress of things won’t yield the fruits we dream of. On the other hand, wild action without sense and reason and without any reliance on divine providence is just as problematic. So what’s the fate that I was talking about?”
Theodosius paused for a moment, his gaze wandering over the faces of the gathering. Did it happen, Volkert wondered, or was it just a fancy that his eyes lingered on him a little longer than on the others?
“I think our fate is what we make of it. A simple wisdom, right? And it presents us with such great challenges, as it reveals the self-responsibility for our actions! But do not worry, the Lord also plays his role: For we will only be able to define and realize our destiny if we do this with God by our side. Only then, when God’s help connects with our will, can we succeed. Trust in God alone is not sufficient. Our actions alone are not sufficient. Both together only lead to results.”
The Emperor raised the wine goblet and wet his throat before continuing.
“It’s hard to understand that we have to use force. Death comes in many ways and for men of our profession usually in a very unpleasant and painful form. How do we envy those old veterans who, after completing their service as respected members of their community, can build a small house on their land and lead a peaceful life, with some luck at a ripe old age, drowsing with their families – all in the certainty to have achieved everything: They fought for the Empire; received honors; built a house; founded a family; lived a meaningful life. But who among us can seriously boast about this fate? The enemy blade finds its target too fast. Our friend Thomasius here has shown that even men of the highest rank are not immune to it.”
All eyes turned for a moment to Volkert, who bowed his head modestly. Theodosius let him sizzle for a few moments in his own embarrassment, before he drew attention to himself by continuing to speak.
“Why, even when we connect God and our will in prayer and action, violence and death await us, is a mystery I do not yet understand. Perhaps it is also related to the fact that in this life at this time, nothing has a value aside from what we long for, and that death and pain show us which stones are on this path and what must be overcome.”
Volkert found that Theodosius was not particularly convincing when he began to talk about flowery and mystifying issues. He strove for a neutral expression and wasn’t alone in that.
“But in the end, that doesn’t matter either – I’m definitely convinced, dear comrades, that we won’t be stopped by any stone, and that we’ll conquer any obstacle. Let the others experience death and pain, if it is the course of things. We want to emerge victorious and unscathed from all this!”
Applause aroused, partly politely, partly out of conviction. Theodosius let it happen for a short time, then he raised his hands. Volkert felt the tension grow inside him. He knew what that speech ultimately meant. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to overcome the fierce palpitation that had befallen him. He hardly succeeded.
Theodosius waited until peace had returned. His face had just shown confidence and joy, now his forehead clouded somewhat and he looked very serious.
“But there are those of us who want to make this path especially difficult for us. Where unity is required, they cast doubts. Where we have to stand together in order to be able to overcome a powerful enemy, they sow discord. All this could be endured, indeed, is almost inevitable, because that’s how we Romans are – if not, yes, if not this dissent would lead to more than just expressing one’s doubts. In fact, I’m talking about a much more serious problem. I’m talking about betrayal. About usurpation. About revolution.”
Total silence descended upon the gathering. Volkert looked at the faces of the men. In some he read horror, in others fear. Many showed different stages of determination, even anger.
When his eyes fell on Sedacius, he noticed that he seemed confused, almost scared, probably because he didn’t know who the Emperor’s statements were directed at, if they had any specific target.
They had, as Volkert knew only too well.
He closed his heart. He wanted to do the same with his eyes, but he forced himself to attention. He had to see everything. It was one of the consequences of his actions. Maybe he would feel better afterwards. Probably not.
Theodosius made a strange gesture. Movement filled the room. Legionaries marched in through the various entrances of the great tent, silently, their faces like stone, their swords drawn. They had to wait for the Emperor to signal them. There were more than 40 men who surrounded the table, eyes alert to those sitting. There were no time-wanderers present. Volkert knew that the Germans kept out of these things, if only it was possible.
What a pity that this couldn’t apply to him.
The officers sat motionless, studying each other. Many seemed nervous. Being innocent didn’t have to mean anything here. Innocence was a matter of definition, a fluid concept, subject to constant adjustments. And one’s innocence was the other’s guilt. Maybe the Emperor used that opportunity to settle some old bills?! Nobody could really feel safe.
Volkert looked at Richomer, who sat next to Theodosius and seemed relaxed – alert, but relaxed. Volkert saw that the soldiers belonged to Richomer’s bodyguard. They were selected men. Theodosius had trusted the General. If there was nothing to fear for someone at this table, then it was for the young general.
Volkert slowly took a deep breath. Just don’t get noticed. God, he was a traitor himself. Who knows, maybe it was just another meeting …
“Sedacius, my friend.”
All eyes turned to the man who was visibly struggling. He turned his head slowly, looked at the Emperor, and now Volkert no longer saw fear in the officer’s composure, but certainty, especially the realization that he had just lost the big game he had wanted to play. Volkert couldn’t help admiring him for his attitude. He didn’t plead nor denied anything. Theodosius looked at him forcibly, then waved again. The legionaries behind the defiant’s chair laid hands on his shoulder, as on those of his two companions.
The Emperor Page 21
