And no one refused to honor the invitation.
As the villa of the family was unable to cope with such a crowd, no expense had been spared. Before the walls of the city, two giant marquees with waterproof tarpaulins had been erected on a specially built wooden structure. Countless slaves also had to build a kitchen to prepare the necessary food, and many armchairs and benches were either bought or rented to offer all guests the necessary comfort.
Julia’s mother had formally presided over the preparations. As a commander, she had the legions of staff to conduct and planned the entire festivity with military precision. The only contribution her father had to make – apart from handing personal invitations to particularly important guests of honor – was to dig deep into his pockets and to produce golden denarii in large quantities. The fact that the immensely wealthy father of the groom also contributed a small amount potentiated the pomp and luxury of this celebration. The best wine in Italy was brought in cartloads of amphorae. That was the particular aspect of the festival for which Martinus Caius finally had shown some interest. Otherwise, he tried to endure the hustle stoically. The fact that he had applied attention to this important event only for a second, spoke for his attitude. That it was Lucia, two hours before the actual ceremony, who strictly forbade the slaves to proffer the groom any alcohol, and pointed out who intended to call the shots in the future, especially with respect to the newly established union between their families.
At least, Gunter, the stupid Germanic slave, was now out of the game. The minder’s massive physique had barely concealed the fact that he had the mental capacity of a loaf of bread. At first, Julia had felt a certain pleasure to trick him in order to escape his vigilance but abandoned the scheme after a short while; it was just too easy. And so Gunter had accompanied her at every step, until today, until such time as the useless son of a powerful man would take her under his wing.
Julia was ready to endure it all.
It was her plan which gave her strength. It was the fact that both her parents and the groom had granted the wishes of a spoiled and difficult bride, all of them very happy that these two were actually to be married. Julia had milked this relief, as best as she could, and she was very satisfied with the result.
Now she only had to survive this ceremony and make the best of a game whose rules she didn’t care for. While slaves still plucked at her wedding clothes, she looked to the other side of the marquee. There stood Martinus Caius, almost lost and pitiable in the festive toga he had donned. He didn’t seek eye contact with his future bride, his obvious interest was solely focussed on the delicacies that were served on the longitudinal wall of the tent in order to be consumed quickly by the festive congregation. Someone rolled a handcart with six massive amphorae filled with the best wine, followed intensely by Martinus’ eyes. Julia had a pretty good idea of what would happen in her wedding night, and that gave her good reason to worry. Less because she hoped that her new husband would fulfill his marital duties in a particularly excellent way but because it was necessary, indeed essential and quite pressing that despite all the disgust she felt that he did his duty.
Julia was pregnant.
The father was Thomas Volkert, the fruit grew since that night at the inn, the first and only night together before he had been “recruited into the armed forces.” Julia knew it for a long time because her bleeding had stopped and she felt violent nausea in the morning, a condition she had been able to keep a secret before her family. A gentle convexity was increasingly difficult to disguise. How good that both families had unanimously waived the farce of testing her virginity. Everyone knew about her past passion for the German.
It was necessary, and for Martinus not least, that everyone assumed that this child would be a legitimate offspring of this marriage. And there had to be a wedding night. It was ultimately a good thing that the wedding took place as soon as possible, before the pregnancy would be too obvious.
At worst, Martinus was either sober enough to actually want to do the job, or so drunk that no one would think him able of performing anymore. Julia had already conducted a highly enjoyable conversation with her mother in this regard, who had been very happy about the sudden aspiration of her daughter to fulfill her marital obligations to the fullest. She had immediately taken up the task to ensure that Martinus was supplied with wine only in moderation. Julia left it to her mother. She was an expert at manipulating other people.
Nevertheless, Julia had decided to keep an eye on Martinus. She could well combine this task with showing her apparent desire regarding the consummation of their marriage, and this would help in legitimizing the sudden fertility of the senator’s daughter. For a while, Julia was ready to live with this lie, hoping to inform Thomas about their child later and develop a plan to move away from this hateful marriage – even if she had to ask to the Emperor for help.
Julia took a deep breath. Her dress was perfect. Already, she wore the ring she had received on her finger, a token collected with the engagement promise of Martinus. This belonged to ancient pagan rituals, but it seemed as if the church was willing to accept this kind of symbolism. Volkert had told her that the tradition of the ring still existed in his time, a time in which there was also a firmly established wedding ceremony of the church, which wasn’t yet available.
Julia’s eyes scanned the room. She found the two priests, confidantes of her father, who would unite the pair with the senator’s blessing, in a dignified, but not too formalized manner. Ultimately Senator Marcellus would give his daughter to marry the son, because with this step Julia left her parental family and belonged to that of her husband.
Since she would thus also leave the immediate sphere of influence of her mother, Julia was actually quite excited about this prospect.
Her father waved. The central part of the ceremony would begin soon; apparently all the important guests had arrived. The large wood stoves spread a pleasant warmth despite the winter temperatures. Julia sighed, and everyone saw this as the usual nervousness of the bride. That the reason lay much deeper, she had to keep to herself until further notice.
Senator Michellus took her arm and led her to the small podium that had been set up at the head end of the tent. Martinus, rather lethargic, also had been directed to the front by his father. The aqueous look of the groom, with whom he greeted Julia, made the prospect of a “real” wedding night even more uncomfortable. The man had definitely drunk enough wine to develop both desire and potential memory loss at the same time. Julia made a mental note to take that into consideration meticulously.
She smiled.
And smiled.
And smiled through the whole, relatively short ceremony. She smiled, as her hands were placed in those of Martinus. She smiled as the priest stepped forward and loudly intoned the blessing. She smiled as Senator Michellus declared them married and asked the audience to celebrate this special event with him. All responded with loud applause, it rained congratulations, pats, handshakes, good advice and suggestive remarks.
Julia smiled.
She imagined that the man at her side was not the pudgy drunkard but the young officer from a foreign and strange world to whom she had so quickly lost her heart, but the image didn’t last for long. For only a brief moment she sensed what she would probably feel once the day would come when she would marry the man who was the only one with a right to a wedding night with her.
Would feel. Would feel. Julia intended to fight to her last breath for what she had vowed to herself, as her allegiance to Martinus was nothing but a lie.
She smiled. And smiled.
As the crowd rushed to the buffet, and the celebration was immersed in smacking, tasting and shuffling noises, the oh so happy bride, still smiling, stood in a corner, took a cup of wine to ease her tense facial muscles, drank small sips, and watched as her husband, the beacon of her life, emptied a large cup with deep, thirsty gulps and refilled at once. M
artinus was well on the way to stupor, and he had to be stopped at the right time. When Julia saw that her mother had the situation closely in view, she felt strangely calm, a feeling that she rarely felt regarding her mother.
Then a man in strange attire stood in front of her, bowed, raised his cup in greeting, and said in unformed Latin, “I congratulate you on your marriage and bring you the best wishes of the Master Militium. The noble Rheinberg must unfortunately apologize because he travels in important affairs of state to Treveri.”
Julia returned the bow. The man was one of the time wanderers, who had also been invited to this festivity. Senator Michellus belonged, beside Symmachus, to the closest allies of the Germans in the Roman Senate, and Rheinberg was known personally to him. It was certainly the least that the new Supreme Commander had sent a deputy.
The man bowed again. “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Lieutenant Joergensen of the Saravica. Always at your service.”
Julia smiled, this time quite by heart, and glanced left and right. No one of significance was in earshot. “Say, Lieutenant, are you aware where your deserter has vanished to?”
The young man grimaced for a split second before covering his expressions with a mask of politeness. “Who are you referring to exactly, Julia? Unfortunately, we had quite a few lately, our former first officer among them.”
“Yes, a shame, and how good things didn’t turn out worse. No, I mean that young ensign … that’s the right word, right? … the man, because of whom my parents hurried me to marry me this one over there.” Julia remained of perfect courtesy and showed no bitterness. It was also the lack of understanding on the side of Rheinberg that had led to this escalation. She hoped to be able to properly control her emotions. Joergensen, however, was less controlled. When she asked her question, a shadow had fallen over his eyes. He was not even angry or upset like when he had mentioned von Klasewitz. For Julia, it seemed as if the officer was a bit more … sad.
An interesting discovery.
“We haven’t heard of him,” the man finally said after some hesitation. “He’s disappeared from our view.”
“But you’re still looking for him?”
Joergensen shrugged. “The Roman administration was instructed to look for him, but one man in the Empire … it will probably be a coincidence if we find him.”
Julia frowned. “But you also seem not to put too much emphasis on the search.”
“That’s not entirely wrong,” the German admitted. “Thomas Volkert has made a mistake, but he’s young and maybe a little impetuous. Now as I see you as a radiant bride before me, I can understand that certain feelings can cloud one’s judgment.”
Julia offered him a beaming smile for the compliment. She wanted him to go on.
“Captain – pardon, Magister Militium – Rheinberg lost men during the mutiny, and although our efforts are progressing in regard to the training of Roman sailors, we need every experienced man. Nevertheless, desertion is a very serious offense. We cannot just ignore it. And on the Roman side … it’s clear to us that an overly rapid pardon of Volkert would also be politically inopportune. Clear rules have to be enforced, especially considering the fact that he wanted to kidnap a senator’s daughter.”
A unique interpretation of reality, Julia thought to herself but kept her smile. In doing so she was by now very proficient.
“… So we hope that, as we say, grass will grow over the matter. But the fact is that he is now in danger of being found and executed by the Roman authorities. Rheinberg is quite prepared to consider clemency, but on the other side circumstances require from him to set an example, showing that he treats his own people like any Roman soldier. Something we cannot change until further notice. And therefore … Thomas … well …” Joergensen hesitated, as if struggling for words. “… might try to contact you. Should he do that, he should be informed that he currently can’t hope for mercy. He has to keep hiding. However, I think he’s probably punished enough by this marriage, if you allow me this remark.”
Julia held steadfastly to her smile, even if now it threatened to become sour. But the man was of course quite right. This marriage was a punishment for Volkert and for herself. And for that reason alone, it wouldn’t last. “I’ll remember that and should he actually contact me, I will certainly convey the message to him,” she said softly. “He is a reasonable man and will make the right decision.”
If Joergensen wasn’t sure how he had to interpret this response, he kept his discomfort for himself. He chatted for a few minutes over trivialities, but by then a queue of other guests who also wanted to pay the bride their respects had formed in a polite distance. Joergensen said goodbye, as obviously his message had been received, undoubtedly the ultimate reason why he had been sent to this celebration, and disappeared into the crowd.
Julia didn’t expect him to remain for a long time. She could have told him that she had a pretty good idea where Volkert was staying and that the Roman authorities would probably be able to find out where he was, if they were seriously looking for him. But for now Volkert remained in a no man’s land, not pardoned, threatened by death, but also not so high on the priority list that he was in imminent danger. She also could have told the officer that she would leave shortly after the end of the celebrations with her husband to a prolonged honeymoon, to Noricum, a place she “had always wanted to visit.” Because Volkert was there.
Finally, she would devise a plan to flee with him and to have the kind of union she really dreamed of.
This time Julia was better prepared. A casket with golden coins and trinkets she had already set aside. They wouldn’t suffer.
Then she turned to the next guest, an elderly matron, friend of her mother, and like her a champion of old Roman customs. She was pleased with Julia’s wedding as much as Lucia, and that alone was reason enough to dislike her profoundly.
“My love! How adorable! How charming! How …”
How terrible.
Julia smiled.
8
“The Emperor is waiting for you!”
Should the servant have had any opinion about the upstart who had acquired the right to join and leave the court as he wished, and whose origin was at least doubtful, then he kept it for himself. His expression was clearly laid out as a perfect mask of strict homage, and his movements were completely rehearsed, from the bow to the indication toward the wide wooden door, behind which the current chambers of the Emperor were situated. Rheinberg knew Trier was indeed capital of the Empire, but that was a quite vague concept. Capital was where the emperor was. And since a Roman emperor as a rule governed from the front, the official name of the capital was, if not irrelevant, quite secondary. Nevertheless, there had to be a place for the imperial administration to reside, at least that part which didn’t travel along once the emperor moved his army, and at this time it was Trier. There were already plans to relocate headquarters to Ravenna, certainly in the historical development Rheinberg was aware of. In fact, there was an argument to actually implement these plans, especially now that Gratian was ruler of the entire Empire and not only the West.
Rheinberg followed the path pointed out to him, and entered the room he now knew quite well. It resembled a study. The young Emperor, who had been sitting behind a large, marble desk and signed papers, rose at once as Rheinberg came in, and smiled pleased. He wasn’t alone. Captain von Geeren was also present; he had apparently been waiting on a sofa, a cup of wine in his hand. He, too, came immediately to his feet when the servant ushered in Rheinberg. Also, Elevius was present, the personal servant of the Emperor, who cared for him since childhood and shared, as Rheinberg knew, Gratian’s secrets. The old man poured hot wine into a cup, as the captain of the Saarbrücken stepped closer, and handed it over with a slight bow.
“The trip was uneventful, I hope?” Gratian opened the conversation, after they had made their welcome. “The roads are safe?”
“As safe as one would expect if accompanied by forty cavalrymen,” Rheinberg said, smiling. “But in general, the situation is not bad. Even the Sarmatians are holding back, as I heard. The news of the victory at Thessaloniki seems to have duly impressed many barbarians and their leaders to prefer waiting a bit.”
“Let’s sit down!”
The men took place, and in the first few minutes the conversation turned to vanities. Rheinberg felt relaxed. The warm wine certainly made his contribution, but he came more and more to the belief that one could work well with the young Emperor. He still had something fickle and jumpy to him and sometimes seemed to have difficulties to hold to an opinion, but now that he managed the entire Empire, the increased responsibility had a positive effect on him. The fact that he had an advisor like Rheinberg who tried to confront the Emperor with the potential realities of history in all their brutality certainly had an impact as well.
Gratian took a long look at Rheinberg before speaking. “General, your reforms get me in trouble.”
Rheinberg nodded. He knew that at this point no comment was expected from his side.
“First, there are the decisions regarding religion. I almost think those are the most harmless. I get support from those with whom I have the least trouble anyway: Symmachus and the group of traditionalists who still cling to the old cults. The confirmation of the Edict has played into their hands. Even the reduction of alimony for temples and priests has been accepted grudgingly.”
The Emperor's Men 3: Passage Page 7
