There was absolutely no suspicion when they met in the evening, in the short free time aside from often monotonous and sometimes meaningless official duties, to share a cup of wine and old memories. They did their job impeccably, disciplined, executed orders, and were stalwarts of their units. They knew their trade, and that meant more than just the killing. They were skilled workers, they had their strengths, even if came to mending boots, building tents or baking bread. These skills made them all the more popular the more freely they used them, helped the comrades, volunteered to work, made themselves useful, and maintained a sunny disposition.
So it was that they had all been wonderfully integrated, and their superiors only noticed that they did not cause any trouble and therefore could largely be left alone.
Salius looked up. Claudius walked by, as if by chance. It was getting dark, and only the night watches were seriously awake. All the other legionaries were chasing time, playing with dice, working on their equipment, eating something. Maximus had had wine poured out, for the simpler minds also beer. The mood wasn’t bad, because the stomachs were filled and there was no fight before them. Boredom was the biggest enemy that needed to be defeated at the moment.
“And?” Salius asked as his companion squatted beside him.
“Everyone is fine.”
Claudius had made the round, affable, friendly, joking. The other two of his companions were therefore well and accepted. They waited for his orders, but until now there was only one command: hold still. Bravely fulfill orders. Execute commands. Do not attract attention. Be eager.
They all had to get closer to the new magister militium.
Salius had no illusions about his chance to survive the attack once it had started. With luck and good planning, he would be able to lower his blade into the body of the time-wanderer, but only to be put to death immediately afterwards or after a prolonged torture.
Salius looked at Claudius and nodded, smiling. He handed him a bowl of porridge, freshly prepared, and a wooden spoon. The young man groaned and accepted the food.
Salius had taken care to take only volunteers. There was little chance that one of them would survive. On the other hand – one shouldn’t expect one’s own death too much, that had always been the motto of the old centurion. There was always a chance to beat fate. If such a result was possible, Salius was determined to look for it.
He set aside his own bowl, now emptied, and enjoyed the pleasant warmth in his stomach for a moment before belching and looking if there was any wine left.
Again Salius looked casually at the great general’s tent. Von Klasewitz was seldom there, mostly staying in his workshops and warehouses. But two days a week he resided in the great army camp, which he had withdrawn to Ravenna to wait for further orders.
That was what Salius didn’t understand.
What were they waiting for? The weather was okay. He had expected Maximus’ army to be on its way to hunt Theodosius. Rumors said the Spaniard was transferring his men to Africa. Did they wait for this to happen, to follow him later? What sense did that make?
Salius was not a strategist. His strengths were in other areas. But he considered things anyway in his mind, and the more he did that, the greater was the feeling of threatening calamity that beset him.
Someone knocked back the blankets at the entrance to the general’s tent. Legionaries stood to attention and saluted. Not easily recognizable in the increasing dusk, Salius could make out von Klasewitz, who exchanged a few words with the soldiers and enjoyed the fresh evening air with a cup of wine in his hand.
Claudius whispered, “It is not far. I could get to him.”
Salius nodded imperceptibly. Claudius was fine with the throwing knife. A master. But it could just as well go wrong. And they only had this one chance.
“Have some more wine,” he told the young man, picking up the small amphora. “It’s not time yet.”
He saw the time-wanderer embark on a walk, accompanied by four men of his bodyguard.
He looked very relaxed, almost cheerful, Salius thought.
It wasn’t time yet.
Salius poured himself some more of the sour wine.
But that would change soon, he was sure of that.
43
The Saarbrücken stomped over the sea, accompanied by the three steamers, which ran like a string of pearls behind the flagship. Another day’s journey and they would have reached southern Italy to re-establish contact with Theodosius and the remnant army – the only armed forces they currently had. The atmosphere on board the cruiser was depressed, which wasn’t mitigated by the torturous narrowness they lived in. In front of the bow, Rheinberg recognized the slender figure of Julia, the daughter of Michellus, as well as the senator himself, who had decided against remaining in Constantinople and embarked with his daughter on the cruiser, although on the steamers accommodation was less cramped. Hardly anyone had wanted to stay in the capital of the East anyway. Everyone had stated that it was their job to help the rightful emperor to secure his claim to rule, but Rheinberg knew well that for most, the fear of the plague was the driving force.
And who wanted to blame them?
The work on the cruiser’s bridge was quiet and conscientious, a calming routine. The course was set, the weather was fine, and nobody would seriously risk an attack on the ship, at least not until further notice. Joergensen and Langenhagen had left the bridge to their superiors and invited them to a simulation game in the officers’ mess. They had worked out a not uninteresting scenario with Dahms: what would happen if an opponent managed to field a fleet of 20 ships of an improved steamship class against the Saarbrücken equipped with the same cannons as those von Klasewitz had used in the battle against Gratian, and supported by a fleet of traditional war galleys. How would the cruiser best defend itself – and how many hunters were needed to kill the prey? Rheinberg was sure that this question could one day be of great importance. The naval power, which was based solely on the superiority of the Saarbrücken, was fragile. The technology-transfer to the Roman Empire would ensure that the technical distance between the units constructed here and the cruiser slowly shrank. And even if it remained significant for a long time, one day the sheer mass of attackers would be enough to kill the exhausted old lady.
Rheinberg paid tribute to the men. They thought about these things early on and drew up defense plans. He wanted the ship’s officers to plan for eventualities. But he wasn’t sure how far they could actually be prepared. The ship’s wear, coupled with the resources of a hostile Emperor, was their biggest problem. They could run away, they could eliminate threats, but in the long run they had to mobilize their own military means, like the three steamers that they currently escorted. Otherwise, the Saarbrücken would eventually fail and go under, and that in the truest sense of the word.
Rheinberg stared at the bow, where Julia and her father talked. The senator’s daughter had wrapped her child tightly to her chest.
“Envious?”
Rheinberg looked to the side and recognized Aurelia, who had joined him. Her feline, quiet movements were always well suited to provide surprises. He smiled at her.
“Envious? Of what?”
Aurelia nodded in the direction of Julia. “Fatherhood.”
Rheinberg thought for a moment. “I’m not sure this is a good opportunity to become a dad. It’s war. We are driven by our enemies. The plague rages. Who knows how much longer I will live, as a soldier. I cannot stay clear of everything. There’s an arrow or blade out there somewhere that speaks my name. That’s not a pleasant thought.”
Aurelia looked thoughtfully at the water. “That’s true. On the other hand, when is the time, Jan? When is peace? When is one safe and protected? When does no disease rage, when are there no swords to be swung? I have read works of history, and long gone are the times of Traianus, when peace and stability prevailed at the core of the Empire because the borders and their dangers were so far away. How long should couples wait until they think of
children? At some point, it is too late, and then there is no one to use any better time.”
For a moment, Rheinberg let these words sink in. He knew that Aurelia was right. Children were born at all times, wars, crises, burning ruins, on the run. External security alone could not be the deciding factor. It happened. But Rheinberg, the commander of the Empire’s forces, time traveler, revolutionist of an epoch, felt strangely insecure when he thought of becoming a father. That was … something else. “We should discuss the subject another time,” Rheinberg tried the evasive tactics that had always failed gloriously in the past.
Aurelia gave him a sharp look. “When exactly, my love?” she whispered.
Rheinberg noticed how the signal mate, the helmsman and the on-duty ensign were striving for absolute self-control, focusing their attention on exciting spots on the steel of the bridge or the gentle swell of the ship’s bow.
“Well … maybe tonight … if we …”
“Yes, Jan? You mean, if you come to the cabin exhausted after another endless meeting, very tired and with the intention, even without washing, to go to bed? The only thing you can say then is a kind of grunt!”
Rheinberg clenched his hands together. “Aurelia …”
“Or maybe once we reach Italy? No, wait, then we have to help to transport soldiers to Africa. So when we are in Africa? Oh, wait, then we’ll have to rebuild the army and make plans to invade Maximus’ territory. So, when everything is prepared? Doesn’t work. Then comes the big battle. If this is won? What happens when you end up on the battlefield and find that the sword in your body is a serious impediment to starting a family?”
“I …”
The signal mate asked the ensign for permission to go to the bathroom. The ensign replied that he also urgently needed to go. The helmsman’s eyes opened wide because there was no excuse for him, no escape. He continued to stare, as if hypnotized, at the Mediterranean.
“When, Jan Rheinberg, do you plan to discuss this topic with me?”
Aurelia knew how to use her voice. She didn’t raise it much. Her tone was melodious and gentle. For some reason, the image of a long, fine-cut, thin knife between two well-rounded breasts appeared before Rheinberg’s eyes. He wiped his forehead. It was hot today, he thought.
“I …”
“No, do not worry, my love. I know my place. You’re making world history, you’re uprooting the Empire and making sure that civilization is saved … especially that. You help to rule an empire, and I have to recognize my place, by your side, in the background, caring for the family and our private happiness. Yes, please forgive me my harsh words. I’m doing you wrong. I went too far. I should accept where my limits are. My responsibility is elsewhere. At most, I can expect to be allowed to make certain decisions within the family, but the big issues, the initiation of a new epoch, the revolution of the world, that alone is your priority, behind which of course I have to stand back.”
Aurelia, Rheinberg thought, lied in such a charming way, he just couldn’t be mad at her.
She sighed deeply, a lamentable image of humble fatalism. “Jan, you can rest assured. You will not have to make this difficult personal decision. I carry my part. I take that burden off you. So I fulfill my duty as you fulfill yours.”
Rheinberg’s eyebrows contracted. Something was just getting out of hand, but he couldn’t grasp what it was.
Aurelia patted him on the shoulder, turned away, and started to leave the bridge. But then she paused, half turned and said over her shoulder, “By the way, I’m pregnant.”
Then she went.
Now even Jan Rheinberg understood.
Register of persons
Aurelius Africanus: Roman Trierarch
Ambrosius of Milan: Roman bishop
Andragathius: Roman general and Magister Militium of Maximus
Julius Annaeus: Trierarch
Aurelia: Rheinberg’s companion
Peter Behrens: Infantry sergeant
Bertius: Roman legionary
Martinus Caius: Son of a Roman businessman
Claudia: Aervant of Julia
Clodius: Freedman
Johann Dahms: Chief Engineer of the Saarbrücken
Engus: Unofficial leader of the Goths
Gaudentius: Prefect in Africa
Godegisel: Gothic nobleman
Dietrich Joergensen: Officer of the Saarbrücken
Julia: Daughter of Marcus Gaius Michellus
Harald Köhler: NCO of the Saarbrücken
Klaus Langenhagen: Officer of the Saarbrücken
Lucia: Wife of Marcus Gaius Michellus
Magnus Maximus: Usurper and emperor
Mehadeyis: Emperor of Aksum
Modestus: Praetorian Prefect of Constantinople
Dr. Hans Neumann: Bordarzt of the Saarbrücken
Racius: Retired legionnaire
Marcus Flovius Renna: Roman military prefect
Jan Rheinberg: Captain of the Saarbrücken and Magister Militium of Theodosius
Richomer: Roman officer
Marcus Tullius Salius: Roman centurion with a special mission
Sassmann: Private under the command of von Geeren
Septimus Secundus: Roman NCO
Sedacius: Roman officer and conspirator
Markus Tennberg: Ensign of the Saarbrücken
Theodosius: Roman Emperor
Thomas Volkert: Ensign of the Saarbrücken and Roman officer
Klaus von Geeren: Infantry officer and company commander
Johann Freiherr von Klasewitz: former First Officer of the Saarbrücken and officer in the service of Maximus
The Emperor Page 26
