The Emperor's Men 3: Passage

by Dirk van den Boom

  “That was the price they had to pay,” Rheinberg interjected. “The powerful and richest of the ancient cults are going to establish an organization that raises funds for the supporters to sustain the temples. They have to organize themselves.”

  “It has, after all, helped me to reduce the innumerable exemptions from tax for church properties. We have agreed on reduced charges, more or less. Not all of them pay.”

  “Teething problems.”

  Gratian frowned. “Yes, perhaps. Hopefully. But the financial aspect is only one side of the issue. Christians rail against the confirmation of the Edict and the trinitarians against the recognition of the arians and vice versa. This makes them almost more angry than my tolerance to Jupiter, Hera and Venus.”

  “We have expected that. But it is still better than to prefer any side by the state and thus spending valuable resources on a conflict that doesn’t help us in dealing with the actual problem.”

  “Yes,” the Emperor said. He sounded convinced enough, but Rheinberg knew what he had to overcome. Gratian had been brought up as a very devout trinitarian. It was hard to jump over one’s own shadow.

  “Then the whole tax reform,” the Emperor complained. “The elimination of numerous tax privileges. That was a howl. There is still howling. The administration moans. I don’t even know how to collect the entire tax properly!”

  “For this, however, the tax rates were lowered,” Rheinberg added. “More people must now pay, but individually less.”

  “That would be okay for many traders or craftsmen, but all those who were previously exempted? I have to struggle with some powerful men here, Rheinberg.”

  “I understand.” Rheinberg tried to put a certain amount of sympathy in his voice. In fact, the reforms weren’t even sufficient in his eyes, how radical they may appear to some. “But it’s about the very survival of the Empire.”

  Gratian nodded thoughtfully. He sighed, then continued.

  “The abolishment of the obligation to choose only the profession of one’s father has caused little outcry. The conversion of guilds and other associations in purely voluntary associations has been more difficult. But I had the feeling that a lot of those affected saw it as a liberation. It increases the competition, because the professions are now keen to attract the best talent.”

  “That’s good and as intended,” Rheinberg said. “We need quality, especially if we want to introduce technical innovations throughout the Empire.”

  Gratian scratched his head. “The biggest chunk, however, is the administration of slavery. A regular fee to be paid for each adult slave in private property, a one-time charge for each infant born into slavery and a tax credit for anyone who has released slaves into freedom. A sales tax of twenty percent on the slave trade.” He fixed Rheinberg with his eyes. “We both know that this is tantamount, Rheinberg. I am a Christian and have a very fundamental problem with slavery. We seem to share this proviso. The law will make slavery very expensive – more expensive than free and salaried labor, because in addition to the fees the owner has to provide food and shelter.”

  “Slavery is an important factor inhibiting the progress of Rome!” Rheinberg repeated an old argument, with which he had convinced Gratian of the new tax system. “If an economic system can rely on a cheap and large workforce, it doesn’t have to trouble itself with inventing new technologies that improve, simplify and speed up production. And if we want to export our new innovations from the future through the width of the Empire, people won’t accept it. They will say, ‘Why all this? Slaves can do that! There are enough of them!’ Remember the outcry we had at Thessaloniki once we entered into a settlement agreement with the Goths rather than to subjugate 50,000 new slaves! So there is certainly a moral argument, but there is also an economic one. Imperator, we need to abolish slavery in order to make Rome stronger!”

  “I know, I know,” Gratian said. “But probably I have to be convinced repeatedly. Half the Senate cursed me because of this thing. All the big landowners!”

  “Tell them that every freedman is a potential recruit for the legions,” suggested Rheinberg. “Slaves cannot be soldiers, and we need soldiers. If we set the slaves free, some might feel the call of the arms themselves. Especially now that we have changed the pay structure – and not touched the tax privileges of veterans.”

  Acute shortages of soldiers in the armed forces and the massive difficulties in finding volunteers for military service were the biggest challenges Rheinberg had faced after his appointment as commander-in-chief. Rapid reforms had been necessary – but a colossus like the Roman Empire moved only very slowly.

  That was Gratian’s problem. In the original timeline, he had died because he had forgotten what it meant to be an emperor. The endless hunting trips with his Alanian riders, neglecting the needs of the armed forces and the fact that he couldn’t meet the high expectations invested in the son of the great Valentinian. The arrival of the time travelers and the confrontation with this fate had triggered a profound transformation process in Gratian. Now he wanted to be an emperor and to take care of the right things, make good decisions and ensure that his realm held together. But ironically, this new determination made his situation more and more uncertain.

  Rheinberg’s goal had been to prevent the long civil war that followed the death of Gratian and to prepare for the onslaught of the Huns and all those peoples who were pushed away in their wake. But now it looked as if the internal resistance in the Empire became so strong that an explosion was almost impossible to avoid. The captain had to admit that it wasn’t easy to do things and to communicate them properly, especially if you didn’t understand how the very people you tried to help thought and felt. Rheinberg had to consider that, despite his personal feelings, the question about the nature of Jesus Christ, whether he was mortal son of God or God himself, did entice the fervor of Romans and drove them to fanatical action and thought. But this wasn’t his time, and he fought every day to understand how everything that seemed to him so obvious from the study of history, was in reality so different, and could prove to be a serious challenge.

  Sometimes he wanted to despair. But he had chosen this path, and many people believed in his vision of a better, a victorious and an Empire based on a solid foundation. There were not too many, but the number grew, and the influx of curious, adventurous young people as well as accomplished scholars to the “German village” near Ravenna also spoke that there was a potential with which one could work.

  He didn’t add anything for while, and Gratian looked at him quizzically.

  Rheinberg smiled weakly. “I was thinking,” he apologized.

  “I find myself doing that a lot lately. I don’t always come to a conclusion.”

  “I wish I had a solution for everything. But I can act only on the basis of what I know. We must try to set a new course.”

  “And hope that the ship is not too decayed and will still be able to reach port,” Gratian completed the analogy. Dealing with Rheinberg had helped him to a dry humor, which he had never shown so openly. Not every member of the extensive court had been too happy about it.

  “We will now pull the troops together we’ll send to explore the exact location of the Huns,” Rheinberg said, switching to the most important issue. “We improve the weapons and the training of the legions and renew the fortifications, especially along the expected route of invasion. And if we do get some time, only a year or two, then we can march a new type of legion to the east and stop the Huns before they get anywhere near the frontiers. No later than then, Your Majesty, we can completely focus on the renewal of the Empire as well as the solution of ecclesiastical conflicts. Then it will be possible for broad sections of the people, commerce and trade, to benefit from the technical innovations we have to offer.”

  Gratian nodded. “If we have this time, I’ll be happy. But although Maximus as well as other potential troublemakers behave very
quiet and I have dealt with the details of your future knowledge in strict confidence, I’m afraid that I must either take immediate action against a potential traitor, or this kind of dissatisfaction will nevertheless lead to revolt and rebellion.”

  “We cannot arrest Maximus only because he might be a rebel in the future,” Rheinberg said. “That would be a witch hunt and will cause constant fear among all notables and military. Arbitrariness would be dangerous, because with our knowledge of the future, any measure could be justified. No, we must continue to do everything possible in oder to act according to law and order. Maximus is a loyal and capable commander of troops in Britain, and before we don’t gather any hard evidence that he is already planning the usurpation, we need to leave him alone.”

  “Yes, that may be. I’m just afraid that once we know with certainty, the rebellious soldiers will already be on our doorstep.”

  Rheinberg sighed. “Then we have to be prepared for that eventuality as best as we can.”

  It was obvious that Gratian didn’t like that answer. He, however, seemed to be willing to accept Rheinberg’s argument, at least for the moment. Rheinberg knew it was boiling among the “insiders”. There were some who didn’t want to wait longer, willing to march with open eyes into a potential disaster. Von Geeren had reported the same and he was aware that he did walk on a tightrope. It all depended on to what extent Gratian was ready to hold back, and hoping that his authority was big enough to encourage his men to do the same.

  Gratian nodded. “And the new ship, the Valentinian, will leave for Egypt?”

  Rheinberg was grateful for the change of subject. As always, if there was much to do, the conversation quickly grew tiring. He was a naval officer, not a politician. And von Geeren, sitting quietly, was no help. “Yes, I’m assuming that it has already put to sea,” he said. “The expedition will not only help to demonstrate the new naval capabilities of Rome in the Mediterranean but also establish important economic connections.”

  Gratian proffered a weak smile. “Now, with the new … what’s the stuff? Spirits? … you already had a great success. Your men have sold the technology all over the Empire. Rome is drunk.”

  “Rome was already drunk, only this time it’s faster,” Rheinberg corrected, also smiling.

  “I want to reiterate that the idea of the alcohol monopoly is still on the table,” the Emperor reminded him.

  “I already have communicated this to my men very gently. Both are willing to concentrate, at least for a start, on their newly acquired Taverna, mainly because they have no time for great commitment on business matters. Both will participate on the trip with the Valentinian to Aksum. I think that we can agree on this: A percentage of the revenue from the monopoly goes directly into our research and training center in order to secure an income and to relieve the general state budget. Then it should be no problem if Rome will help replenish the budget with the help of the drunk.”

  Gratian nodded.

  “What my people are now looking for will help the drunk to become sober,” Rheinberg added, again smiling. “The trip to Aksum is of great importance.”

  “Then I’m curious. Coffee you call it?”

  “Yes, and it’s very versatile. Most importantly, it is served as brew with hot water. Depending on your taste, milk or sugar can be added. Very invigorating. We miss it badly because our own stocks are already depleted. When brandy was a success, coffee will be a sensation. And if we do it as we have discussed it – set up a strict state monopoly for an inaugural period – then the gold coins will just be flowing into the treasury. It will take a while, but I’m firmly convinced of it. And not even our worst critics are able to say no to a cup of coffee.”

  “That is, after all, a good prospect,” Gratian said. He spoke in a silent, withdrawn tone.

  Rheinberg took a deep breath. “Your Majesty, Rome has indeed a good future,” he said firmly. “We are facing major challenges, but don’t you notice the difference? Not so long ago you have only sensed the great dangers and the impending doom without clear knowledge! But now we know where we want to go and what we must do. There’ll be stumbling blocks on this path, I have no doubt. We’ll even occasionally fall down and get bloody knees – but we are in a unique position that’ll give us a lot of strength and the power to face all challenges. A secure Empire that prospers economically. An Empire in which there is inner peace. An Empire that earns the respect of its neighbors and that fears no one. An Empire that is driven to new heights by new technologies and scientific innovation. And all this, Your Majesty, will be inextricably linked to your name. Please don’t lose sight of that prospect. It’s always the ruler who will be praised and remembered first.”

  Gratian’s smile widened. “Don’t underestimate your part in it. The mere fact of time travel will make you and your ship immortal.”

  “We didn’t do it on purpose. We are victims of a fateful event. We have searched the sea thoroughly for similar signs, reached the point at which we have arrived, over and over again. For all of us, it is clear that the process doesn’t seem to repeat itself. It is not influenced by us, and its origin remains a mystery. This historic event will surely stay in everyone’s consciousness forever, yes. But what we – what you – will make of it, that is of real historical significance!”

  Gratian nodded, as if to confirm this to himself. Elevius, who had silently stood on the side, handed him a new cup of wine. “Let us dedicate ourselves to the details now,” the young Emperor finally said, pointing to a series of documentary records. “We’ve got a tiring afternoon ahead of us.”

  And so it was.

  9

  “The ship looks totally like shit!”

  The fact that seaman Hannes Weinkamp uttered this sentence with a proud tone stopped Köhler in his impulse to tell him his opinion. Since his statement was also made in German, so that the Roman crew of the Valentinian perceived only the tone and the satisfied smile Weinkamp’s, there was no apparent need to reprimand him.

  In addition, Köhler wasn’t hardly in any position to contradict the four sailors of the Saarbrücken who he took on the maiden voyage of the steam sailing ship. No one aboard the Saarbrücken was an expert in ship design – especially not in regard to steam-sailors made of wood. The Valentinian was a mixture of theory from books and the shipbuilding experience of Roman shipyards. The carpenters there knew exactly how to built a trireme or any of the large freighters, with which the grain from Egypt was taken to Italy. They could also build smaller sailboats, fishing boats or coastal vessels that transported the news and some freight from seaport to seaport. The idea of the time-travelers building a modern sailing ship that combined the advantages of a schooner or brig of the 19th century with the independence of a steamer had been a challenge to implement. Since it had been under time pressure, some kind of compromise had emerged – a slightly slimmer traditional freighter with new rigging, two masts, pre- and main sails, as they were actually much later used in the time of the caravels, with a keel that made the ship more seaworthy, and a high rail to resist the Mediterranean storms – and a compartment containing a steam engine made of bronze and iron. It was the first of its kind put into service in the Roman navy, fired with charcoal. Stoker Karl Forstmann, a silent, lanky man of Dahms’s staff, had been assigned to take care of it. He had accepted the work in a laconic and taciturn approach, but left no doubt that he considered the investment into steam engines made from bronze as premature and ultimately dangerous. He not only made sure from the beginning that the “engine room” had more than enough water at the ready in case of a fire, but looked visibly pleased that the Valentinian would start its journey under sails. Even in ideal conditions, the steam engine would accelerate the Roman warship with its simple propeller not faster than to 6 to 7 knots. That might prove useful in the case of adverse winds, but it wasn’t a great speed advantage over other ships.

  Köhler’s searching glance
slid off the high, iron chimney sticking out of the afterdeck down to the two bombards, which were lashed right and left on the middle deck. These were the very first cannons from Dahms’s armory, far removed from the steel guns of which the engineer dreamed. As a direct way to that goal, they had preferred bombards to the originally planned steam catapults, which had been removed accordingly. While stoker Forstmann was already confident of his machine, the crude condition of the two guns had shocked Hannes Weinkamp. They had no rifled barrel, although the barrels had been poured with the utmost care and were certainly no worse than the guns with which battles of the Thirty Years War had been fought. They fired no bullets, but a kind of iron shot, pressed together in thin cloth sacks. The bombards were not supposed to sink ships but to ward off pirates or other enemies by mowing them down and then to disturb grappling attempts. Weinkamp had fired some test shots causing both enthusiastic and frightened sympathy by the Roman crew and had been able to discover that aiming and hitting constituted too difficult to target properly. But as the guns rang loud and smoked properly, the psychological effect on potential opponents wasn’t easily dismissed.

  All in all, the Valentinian was a ship that had been built as efficiently as possible in the short time available. This didn’t make the new pride of the Roman fleet pleasant to look at – Weinkamp wasn’t wrong in his judgment, at least from a purely aesthetic point of view – but hopefully, it would be so impressive that the littoral of the Mediterranean would realize that, in a figurative sense, a fresh wind blew. Even if it consisted of the smelly exhaust of a steam engine.

  “Weinkamp, control yourself! We’re being watched,” Köhler said. Indeed, the harbor was full of onlookers and on a wooden grandstand, sheltered by a canopy, sat notables of the Empire. Naval officers, the Prefect Renna, a good friend of the Germans, high city officials, and some senators. A group of musicians played on, and servants offered snacks; it was almost like a carnival. With so many spectators, the start of Valentinian’s voyage was not allowed to have any blemish, and the hope in that regard was mainly directed below deck, where the crew had started to fire the steam engine for a good half hour, and now, at least, some smoke was visible. Given the fact that today was an overcast winter day, windless, with gentle rain, the new technology was particularly important, because otherwise the ship would have to be rowed out to sea by the waiting triremes.