No word was exchanged. The three officers rose, bowing slightly to Theodosius, who showed neither the stance of a triumphant nor anger, only cold, ruthless determination.
The three men were brought out. Volkert let out a breath, realizing only now that he had been holding it all the time. Nobody looked at him. No one knew, except maybe Richomer, that it was he who was responsible for exposing the man’s plans.
He hoped it would stay that way.
There was no doubt about the fate of the three men – and many more who were among Sedacius’ closest conspirators. They would have the choice either to be committed to execution by the sword or to do that themselves. Sedacius, Volkert was sure, would choose the latter alternative. He was a Roman officer and not a coward. Nobody would be able to take that away from him.
There were two exceptions. Their names were Thomasius and Secundus. Volkert had put in a word for Secundus. It had helped. But Secundus would be under surveillance from now on and would have to prove himself again. Volkert himself had proven his loyalty and demanded nothing. Theodosius had acknowledged this with a strange look, as if Volkert wouldn’t be the kind of traitor he usually expected.
Volkert himself didn’t know what he expected – either from himself or from what happened next.
When the three officers had been led away, the deployed legionaries disappeared. Relief was spreading, an almost hysterical mood. As if nothing had happened, the more food and drink was supplied. There was wine and German brandy.
Volkert reached for it. He was not hungry but very thirsty.
The conversations were loud, almost too loud. They drowned out the cruel consequences of the treachery, which were brought to an end outside the tent.
Fast and merciless. In the morning you would see nothing of it.
Sedacius had stared at Volkert when he had been led away. Thomasius hadn’t been arrested. It was clear who the traitor was.
Volkert would never forget that stare. He didn’t blame himself, at least not yet. But the memory of it alone scared him.
He drank.
37
Mehadeyis, the Emperor of Aksum, hadn’t promised too much when he told Neumann, Behrens and Africanus that he would gather all the information needed to find out how they could return best. The preparations for the departure had already been made when surprising guests appeared for the Emperor’s supper in the throne-room of the Aksumite ruler. As every evening, at the conclusion of his daily business, the old man invited the Roman guests to dine with him and to discuss all sorts of things. The Emperor’s personal physician had been present the evening before, and the entire table’s talk had revolved around the details of medical procedures. Many of the guests had prematurely said goodbye to the Emperor, but Mehadeyis shared the interest of many older people in the medical arts and had listened attentively to the conversation. In Aksum as in Rome, physicians were not regarded very high, as their work was usually crowned with little success. In Aksum, as in Rome, there was still the “theoretic doctrine” of Greek medicine, which tried to cure illnesses through, inter alia, phlebotomy, a bad habit that had lasted until modern times. Surgeries were usually the very last resort and characterized by total ignorance of necessary hygiene. In addition, there were almost inevitably serious complications, not to mention the shock of a conscious operation. Broken bones, as far as Neumann could tell, were the injury Roman doctors were most likely to be able to mend, and those who knew very well about herbs were at least able to alleviate chronic conditions. Nevertheless, miracle healers boomed throughout the ancient world. Neumann had to admit, although he didn’t say it out loud, that the popularity of Christianity had a lot to do with the fact that Jesus had turned out to be a very effective miracle healer.
The Aksumite Emperor shared the healthy mistrust against physicians, but proceeded according to the logic: “Diseases are from God, doctors are from God, and medicine too.” It was his pragmatic nature to do so. Neumann had already had long discussions with the personal physician and was pleased to note that, where ancient medicine was actually helpful – especially in the case of broken bones and some chronic illnesses –, he was considered a good doctor. Since the man also held a certain mistrust of the Greek methods, he immediately found Neumann’s sympathy. The personal physician had simply told him that the theory of the juices simply contradicted his observation of how patients responded to treatment. Neumann found out that the doctor was very empirical and took his observations quite seriously, even making extensive records about it. Of course, he was far removed from the findings of modern medicine. But he had the proper mindset.
So he had listened with great interest to Neumann’s detailed descriptions of the need for hygiene in surgical interventions. It was not uncommon, perhaps out of a certain naive insight, to wash out surgical wounds with vinegar. But when Neumann told him that surgical instruments had to be boiled, from the needle to the knife, and that the doctor’s hands and clothes had to be thoroughly cleaned either in boiled or at least hot water before every operation to kill invisible things, he had attracted much attention. That night, they had long talked about the possibilities of anesthetizing surgical patients. Classical medical works advised physicians to perform any procedure with four strong men holding the patient’s arms and legs, and not be too distracted by the victim’s screaming. Neumann knew that the doctors were not monsters. He knew about various experiments, such as intoxicants like opium. The problem was the dosage, which was often either too low or even led to poisoning. This, in turn, was due to the fact that no ancient pharmacy was able to produce a reliable amount of a particular substrate from the source – usually a plant –, so a doctor could never really be sure about the dosage. For Neumann, it was clear that, as soon as this was possible again, he would have to initiate pharmaceutical education in addition to his medical academy to solve this problem. It was urgent to find a remedy that led to at least a strong numbness and pain insensitivity of the patient in order to minimize the suffering as much as possible. Neumann had a very selfish interest in it, because at some point the supplies of painkillers aboard the Saarbrücken would be exhausted and he needed replacement.
Wherever the cruiser currently was, anyway.
This evening, however, was not about the necessities of wound cleansing or the development of medicines, and while the Emperor’s personal physician was present, he was only one of many members of the household, ready at any time to serve their lord. The honored guests of the table were not the usual nobles and senior officers who usually populated the hall – though many of them were present –, but four men in long, flowing robes and with brown-tanned faces, sitting at the Emperor’s right. They were, Neumann noted, treated with exquisite respect. They had to be high-ranking personalities of importance.
“Allow me to introduce you to my guests,” Mehadeyis said after a few introductory greetings. “Here, this is the delegation from the Roman Empire. In addition to the Roman officer Africanus, it also includes those that are commonly referred to as a time-wanderers. It’s hard to understand, but I’m sure you’ll find out more later in the evening.”
The leader of the guests bowed his head before saying, “Noble Majesty, we are well-informed about the arrival of the time-wanderers. Although we don’t believe everything that we’ve heard about them, their existence has caused enough excitement in Rome to bring the news to us. Since the friendly visit of good Balbus a little more than 350 years ago, we are used to keeping a close eye on what is going on in Rome, if only because it is not in our interest to annoy our powerful neighbor too much.”
Mehadeyis smiled and nodded. Then he turned to his Roman guests. “May I introduce you to Prince Sholba, second to the throne of the King of Garama, ruler of the Garamants. He’s here on a trade mission and has kindly found time to visit an old man.”
Sholba made a defensive gesture. “Your age is gracing you, Your Majesty. You carry it with dignity. I only hear my father complain from morning to night unless he’s e
njoying himself with his concubines.”
Mehadeyis uttered his characteristic, complaining laughter. “I’m glad your father is fine, my prince.”
“As long as he complains, I’m relieved,” he replied with a smile. Then his eyes turned directly to Neumann. “I understand from your expression that you do not know my kingdom, although, as I was told, you know amazing things about this time and its circumstances.”
Neumann nodded. “Much of what we thought we knew already turned out to be wrong, and every day we discover new gaps in our knowledge. My name is Neumann, I am the physician of our expedition and sometimes our spokesman.”
Sholba silently mouthed his lips to say the name of new acquaintance.
“In fact, I’ve never heard of your kingdom. As I have learned from your words, you are also a neighbor to Rome.”
“That’s true. Our kingdom lies south of the African provinces. The nearest major Roman city is Leptis Magna. I traveled a long distance to get to Aksum. Luckily, we can use the Roman roads and waterways. The capital of our little kingdom is Garama.”
“I know your country,” Africanus said, bowing his head in greeting. “Rome and Garama have been peaceful neighbors for many centuries. There has not been any warfare between us for a long time.”
“The last one in republican times,” Sholba explained. “That Balbus, whom I have already mentioned so kindly, had been dispatched at that time to examine the wild behavior of our ancestors more closely. He conquered 15 cities in the process. We considered it sensible to conclude a peace treaty with Rome and to respect the borders of the African provinces. Didn’t harm us.”
Neumann listened to the conversation with wide eyes. Never before had he heard of this kingdom, about which the prince now told all sorts of things. Garama’s wealth was evidently based on agriculture, which was pursued extensively with much slave labor, as well as on trade, especially with Rome, but also with anyone else who offered a good deal. Aksum was not too far removed from the Garamants, and the familiarity with which Mehadeyis had introduced Sholba suggested that trade missions to eastern Africa were by no means uncommon.
“So you’ve been traveling for a long time?” Neumann asked. He had hoped to get more up-to-date information about what was going on in Rome.
“Months,” the Prince confirmed. “When I set out, our court just learned of the arrival of the time-wanderers and their wondrous implements. What happened after that I caught on the way here. In fact, even before I arrived in Aksum, I knew you had come here. I was briefly in Alexandria, purely on business. That ship design you’ve arrived with is still on everyone’s lips.” He raised his hands regretfully. “I cannot judge about that. Ships have never been the trade of the Garamants. We prefer camels and horses. They serve us better.”
Neumann didn’t make the mistake of ranting about the Saharan desert because he knew better now. The north coast of Africa, far into what in his time was the Sahara, currently was considered agricultural land, not perfect, but quite suitable for cultivation. The sea of sand, in which the descendants of the Garamants lived, didn’t yet exist in that fashion. Neumann wondered what the modern Berbers of his time would say about the way of life of their ancestors. He doubted they were aware of their own glorious past.
“Many more news than my dear friend here,” the Prince pointed to Mehadeyis, “I cannot tell you about the events in Rome. All I know is that there is a great deal of commotion, that civil war is waged and apparently more than one man claims the purple. The African provinces seem to be quiet, but I know the governors a bit and something is going on there too. I wouldn’t be surprised if Africa sooner or later gets involved in the turmoil.”
Sholba grimaced and leaned forward. “That’s not good for us. We Garamants are mainly merchants. We sell our harvest products and buy Roman goods, especially many things of daily use, housewares, but also luxury goods for the court. Rome is our most important trading partner, either as a buyer of our goods or as a transit country of trade with the East. Everything that hurts Rome hurts us as well. We observe the events with a certain helplessness. Although my good friend Mehadeyis here is not half as dependent on Rome as we are, as far as I understand him, turbulence on the northern border is not a pleasing prospect for Aksum either.”
The Aksumite Emperor made a gesture of approval. “We’ve never been at war with Rome, and there’s nothing we have to argue about right now,” the old man said. “Our interests are complementary where trade is concerned, as well as territory. No matter which Emperor prevailed, there have always been stable relationships. But our own trading interests have been given a new depth with great potential since the delegation’s visit, and I’m also concerned with the fate of the time-wanderers.”
“Potential in commerce?” Sholba asked, in his eyes the sparkle of the shrewd businessman. “The kingdom of the Garamants is always interested in potential in this area and ready for any cooperation.”
Mehadeyis gave him a long look. “In fact, I imagine something could be arranged.” Then he came back to his own train of thought. “The arrival of the time-wanderers has roused Rome, and after what Neumann has described to me, I have the impression that it will affect the whole world, directly or indirectly. We can learn a lot from the time-wanderers, beneficial as well as dangerous things. This triggers a process of change, with unpredictable consequences. For us on the fringes of Rome, the question will be: Can we influence this change and control its consequences, or will we become a plaything, a mere spectator?”
Neumann looked at the Emperor. The Aksumite ruler had never formulated his own dilemma and thus his view of these things so openly and clearly. But it was clear that everything that happened in Rome would ultimately not only affect the countries bordering the Mediterranean. Sooner or later, technological innovations in particular had to find their way into neighboring countries. In Persia, too, there were clever craftsmen who could easily understand the principle of the steam engine and implement it after a few attempts – not to mention the weapons. And what would happen if the Chinese started to use these techniques? All this had to trigger revolutionary changes in the medium to long term. Neumann was not a Marxist, but he had always been in agreement with the famous economist where he wrote that the means of production co-determined the social condition. And these would change dramatically. This had to have repercussions on state and society, and while Rome was still able to handle it relatively flexibly – as much as one might rate an imperial murder and a civil war as an expression of readiness to adapt –, the question remained how it would influence realms like Persia or what would happen in Aksum?
Mehadeyis, Neumann conceded again, was a clever and farsighted man. That his prospective heir to the throne, Ouezebas, sat next to him and listened attentively, nodding assent to many of his words and appearing in line with everything, was reassuring in a way. Aksum was facing difficult times, and it would be the shoulders of the same Ouezebas, on which the burden of responsibility would rest, no matter what course the Emperor intended to introduce during his lifetime.
Sholba also seemed to consider the Emperor’s words. “In these matters,” he said finally, “we would like to work closely with our Aksumite friends.”
Mehadeyis nodded. “I see many opportunities for cooperation, both in the future and in the present.”
But if Neumann had hoped that the Emperor would go into more detail here, he was deceived. Instead, the old ruler announced that it was time for the main course. At the end of the meal, the rest of Neumann’s coffee was served. This was a successful end to the evening, as Sholba, Prince of the Garamants, indeed recognized much potential afterwards.
38
“It’s a logical consequence, and it’s the right thing to do,” Modestus said, nodding at the messenger who said goodbye with a bow. The Praetorian Prefect had taken to the bridge of the Saarbrücken when it had moored again in Constantinople. He was expected in the captain’s cabin by Rheinberg and von Geeren, after Dahms had given hi
m a small tour of the ship.
The authorities in Constantinople had taken immediate action once the plague broke out. The entrances into the big metropolis had been put under the strictest control. Travelers from the rough direction of Thessaloniki were already rejected far from the city walls by patrolling legionaries. According to the suggestions of the medical staff, a big rat hunt had also been called. Rheinberg himself had named a prize for each rat killed. The entire population of the city, especially the inhabitants of the poorer neighborhoods, had then begun with great zeal to earn these small sums of money – which accumulated for some of the hunters to a decent amount. Street boys were particularly successful at hunting as the corners where they could find their victims were well known to them. It was not a rare sight to see a proud ten-year-old with rat corpses tied up with a thread walking to one of the collection points. Not only did he get his obolus there, but the animal corpses were also immediately burned in small crematoria hastily assembled from stones.
The hunting and killing of cats was banned. To feed the felines as well. They should do their part to curb the rat population.
In addition, Rheinberg had been able to convince Modestus of the introduction of certain hygienic regulations. The bath-loving Romans were very open to such measures. All the baths in the city, including those reserved for paying guests, had been opened. Proclamations were read to encourage people to bathe themselves with hot water at least once a week and cook their clothes as well. Rheinberg made this directive more attractive by allowing additional entertainers to perform in the baths, which triggered a certain funfair mood. And he introduced sanitary controls to the big competitions on the racetrack, which made enthusiastic fans of the races strive to appear clean to visit their sport, otherwise they would be rejected. Constantinople did what it could, and messengers were sent to all parts of the East, with precise instructions to stem the spread of the disease. But whether all officials would perform these instructions just as enthusiastically, that was certainly on another sheet.
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