The Emperor's Men 3: Passage

by Dirk van den Boom

  “The rules of the church are already clear to me,” Rheinberg interrupted. “But are the rules of the church also those of God, or not only those made by mere mortals, precisely because the true glory of God is unfathomable to them, as you have just explained yourself?”

  Ambrosius felt cold anger rising in him. “Who are you to judge God’s intentions and will?”

  “I don’t. But you do it constantly. The only thing I actually can judge upon is this: We are all mortals who exist at this location and at this time. We have found a way of life that has its strengths and weaknesses, and surely we have the mission to consolidate the strengths and tackle weaknesses. But in the definition of these properties we all have very individual interpretations as there are different views on the nature of things and the nature of God. But if God is really found in all of His creation, in its diversity, in all people who He created in His image, and if He gave us free will – who am I that I can offend God by using this freedom or don’t use it in order to hinder other people expressing their’s?” Rheinberg rose and took a step toward Ambrosius.

  The bishop saw no anger, especially no holy anger in the face of the time traveler, only a deep-seated fatigue, despair, whose origin he could not fathom.

  “And so this Empire must act as follows if it is to survive: It must create the framework for this very free will. This frame will already restrict this will to a certain degree and you yourselves have just advocated such. We humans currently don’t know a better way to get along with each other. So we have to work with what we have. And as long as God doesn’t revoke his promise that we have free will, he surely has a purpose giving it to us. Who knows? Maybe it’s just the jumbled mess that we call our life that pleases him. Maybe he watches as we hike through the ages in order to leave here and now a notable impression.”

  “God does what?” Ambrosius exclaimed. “Are you claiming with your example that the Lord has sent you?”

  “He has at least raised no objection.”

  “You’re a tempter! One who is upright and faithful will instantly recognize it! I don’t know from which pits of hell you emerged, but as Eve once handed Adam the apple, so you want us to taste a fruit whose consumption will lead us into a deep abyss and true damnation for the whole Empire.”

  “Says who?”

  Gratian had asked that. Ambrosius stared at him as if he was a troublemaker in this dispute with Rheinberg, although it had been his original intention to have this theological discussion with the Emperor and not with the German. But by being so incensed through Rheinberg’s words, he had already forgotten his original plan.

  The Bishop ignored the Emperor, was completely focused on Rheinberg.

  The officer looked at him gravely, almost regretfully. “Even if God would cherish the most ungodly idea that there would be those who don’t deserve to sit at his side are not being allowed to partake of his glory after death, why shouldn’t he punish those that were mistaken in his eyes much earlier – why wait for a court, a judgment, and then punishment or banishment, if God could easily wipe out each and everything who displeases him any time? God is omnipotent, right?”

  “That is true.”

  “What dark feeling of revenge drives God if even upon eternal suffering we couldn’t meet his stern criteria, a fate he could easily end immediately with a simple stroke eradicating those who failed him? God is merciful, is he?”

  “Yes, but–”

  “The end is near? Judgment is close?”

  Ambrosius hesitated. If he had learned one thing from the existence of the time travelers then it was the fact that the final judgment would obviously be deferred for quite some time.

  But Rheinberg continued his thoughts already. “And if God has given us choice, why should he punish us for this our choice?”

  “He is testing us.”

  “Why? To guffaw, sitting on his heavenly throne, full of lust for vengeance and ready to weed out those who didn’t make it and only to reward those who found recognition in his eyes? So there is no freedom of choice, but only one way to salvation? Your system lacks logic, Bishop.”

  “It’s the system of God. He gave us the law.”

  “No, it’s what people have made of it in their lack of understanding, with their interpretations and distortions and reinterpretations. There is judgment, Ambrosius, I’m sure, but only the one which we are preparing for ourselves, and indeed already have, here on earth, causing the fact that we live in fear and let us govern by fear.”

  “It is good to fear God.”

  “I don’t like God if I have to be afraid of him. The God I believe in, the one who gave me freedom and has made me according to his picture, I don’t have to fear. No fear of judgment. No fear of revenge. No fear of punishment.”

  “And if you will lead a depraved life filled with violence and sin because you think God didn’t see and wouldn’t punish you for it?”

  Rheinberg frowned.

  “God gave me free will. He will not punish me. If God would demand strict subjection to certain laws, why did he admitted the possibility that we can violate these laws?”

  “He gave us free will. Free will to err as well.”

  “What kind of a free will is it if the choice is between something that brings certain damnation and only one that means salvation? How free is my choice, if it’s not really my will, but that of the Church which tells me what I have to do? But do you know what, dear Bishop, probably you are, in a certain way, even correct. I also think that God has given us laws.”

  “The commandments of the Lord.”

  “I think about more fundamental laws. Laws that don’t dictate me what I have to do, but the consequences that define the outcome of certain attitudes or actions. I don’t know if you understand. But there is a difference between consequences as consequences of our actions and mere punishment. We know these laws of causality, so we will naturally refrain from everything that is bad for us. Don’t we consider this, we’d base our decisions on coincidences. Sometimes we are right, sometimes not. But I don’t think we will ever be condemned by God for something we have chosen freely.”

  “The Church has rules by which one can judge one’s actions easily,” Ambrosius argued.

  “Yes, and some are not even stupid. But punish the infidels, take their possessions, kill them? And those Christians who interpret the truth somewhat different, hunting them down with flaming torches, destroy their property, set fires, as we know what’s right and they don’t? I don’t know. What I know is this: I have a free will. So I accept this in others, and their exercise of it, for who am I to contradict God in this arrangement?”

  Ambrosius opened his mouth and closed it again. He knew at once that any further argument, the continuation of this dispute, may conflict with his goal to win Gratian over for his cause.

  His two brothers had followed the dispute in stunned horror, a mixture of anger, disgust and incomprehension in their faces. That was good, Ambrosius knew. It was what he had hoped for.

  Only it wasn’t Gratian who spoke all these words but Rheinberg, from whom he had expected nothing but heresy and defeatism right from start. He wanted to dismiss these words, shouting his conviction that they couldn’t be derived from true faith. Rheinberg wasn’t important. He would die. He had to be extinguished. This was decided and sealed, now more than ever.

  But this young Emperor. Ambrosius’s eyes rested on Gratian’s face, which reflected perplexity. This young Emperor … could he be saved? Or was it possible to seal his fate in the eyes of his witnesses right here, in concurrence with the one of his Magister Militium?

  Ambrosius turned directly to the Emperor. “Well, Augustus, you heard the words of your time traveling friend?”

  “I did.”

  “Do you think and advocate along his line?”

  Gratian said nothing, thinking. Then, after a few seconds, h
e sighed and stretched. “Ambrosius, I respect you very much.”

  “Thank you, Augustus.”

  “You’re a smart man and respected by many. Your word carries weight, and often you speak true. I would’ve liked you standing by my side.”

  “I’ll stand by your side, Augustus. But some of your decisions and how you choose your counselors doesn’t make this easy for me.” Ambrosius didn’t even cast a meaningful glance at Rheinberg, as everyone knew who he meant in particular.

  “Was Galerius very stupid, Bishop?”

  Rheinberg knew that the Emperor referred to the co-emperor of the great Constantine, the original author of the famous edict of toleration, which afterwards was often wrongly attributed to Constantine. Suffering from terminal cancer, it had been one of the last acts of Galerius to sign the edict. That Constantine, masterful politician he had been, subsequently discovered the political potential of the Christian religion himself had made his role appear even bigger, at least from a historical viewpoint.

  “Galerius was good to put an end to the persecution of Christians.”

  “Why then initiate new persecution?”

  “It’s a different time now. The message of Christ has come to the ears of many. It’s now necessary to comprehend the state as an instrument of Christ. It’s the great task of the Empire to help the true faith to success.”

  “Here our views differ,” Gratian said softly. He rose, stroked his toga smoothly and looked pensively for a moment into the flames flickering in the fireplace which heated the room.

  “I admit, once I’ve thought as you, Bishop. The state as an instrument of God. The Empire as the executor of the Christian message. Ausonius taught me this.”

  “Ausonius is a wise man. Listen to his words.”

  “I think he is wrong. The Empire has only these purposes: the perpetuation of itself, the creation of a framework of law and public order, the preservation of civilization. And that consists of more than the Church or faith. Rome is old, Ambrosius. Do you want us to forget the centuries that have brought us this far? Shall we negate and blemish the deeds of our ancestors? Is all that worth nothing?”

  “It’s a different time,” Ambrosius insisted, as couldn’t think of a better answer. Christian or not, the respect for the ancestors was dug deep in the Roman soul, and the hot-headed Bishop couldn’t relieve himself from this entirely.

  “It’s a different time,” confirmed Gratian. “The Huns don’t care whether we are Christians or sacrifice to Jupiter, whether the soldier who wields the sword is praying to Mithras or Sol Invictus. Look at the Roman soldier and how he protects the safety of the Empire. He doesn’t care if Christ is one with God or separated from him and whether that Council said this or this Council that. And aside from the Huns? What about the Goths, who call themselves Christians?”

  “Arians,” Ambrosius spat out.

  “Anyway. Did the Goths strike my co-emperor Valens before Adrianople and shook the Empire to its foundations? And what about the Parthians, Bishop? If we pursue your beliefs, do we have to take care of the Parthian Empire? Did Julian the Apostate die in his fight against the Sassanids because he wasn’t a Christian?”

  “Yes, God has punished him!”

  “He made a decision using his free will,” Rheinberg murmured. “Perhaps this decision was stupid, but why would God punish him for having exercised his God-given right?”

  Ambrosius ignored him.

  Gratian sighed. “Bishop, the Huns don’t care about all of this, just like all of our remaining enemies don’t. The Empire is the Empire. If we don’t exist, there is nothing left. This is the greatest responsibility, it is the highest objective. And for that I need the help of everyone, Ambrosius. The help of those who believe, just like Symmachus, in the old gods. The help of the Trinitarians. The assistance of the Arians. The support of the Manichaeans. That of the disciples of Mithras and Osiris and the Sun God. The unifying idea is Rome. That should be everyone’s common ground, and if that is achieved and secured, let everyone believe whatever he wants to. Let them worship. Everyone needs to account for himself with his gods, as I do every day when I pray.”

  Gratian sighed again. He looked very tired, almost as tired as Rheinberg, and for a brief moment Ambrosius wanted to have pity on him.

  Only a very brief moment.

  He rose. It was clear that the Emperor had made his decision. The words were struggling for attention in the bishop’s mind. He understood them on an abstract, rational level. But he didn’t want to think about them like that, didn’t want to see where they might make sense and where not. He knew his goals. It the end, it was the state church that needed to be established – the church of the state, the state of the church, both inextricably linked and both united in an effort to spread the true faith.

  In and outside the Empire.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Nothing else was important.

  And whoever stood in the way would be swept away by the power of this necessary and unavoidable process.

  There were still a few exchanges of polite words. The atmosphere was cold. Both sides knew what they had to expect from each other. And while they were trading pleasantries, all of them considered what would happen now, what were the consequences and what was inevitably unavoidable. The uncertainty was certainly stronger among them than with the Bishop of Milan, who knew exactly what to do and where would it would eventually lead to, especially in regard to Gratian’s and Rheinberg’s fate.

  God, he was certain, was on his side in this.

  Ambrosius parried all the questions and comments of his indignant brothers, as he paced briskly through the palace afterwards and again arrived in the waiting-hall, which was lit by oil lamps. The artists who worked on the mosaic had made it a day, the site was abandoned for now. For a brief moment Ambrosius felt the need to tear it up violently. He knew that his brothers would’ve taken part in it, if only to please the Bishop.

  He took a deep breath, glanced at the guards who stood silently in niches at the wall, seemingly unconcerned and inattentive – but Ambrosius knew better. He lowered his head and left with his companions toward the cool evening air.

  15

  Thomas Volkert turned around on his horse and looked along the column, which had taken careful preparation for the upcoming march. He had been assigned to one of the larger reconnaissance groups, almost a small legion in itself. After the German troops had arrived, the preparations for the departure had increased in intensity. Twenty-two German infantrymen – the best riders, as far as one could make that judgement after the short training – would take part in the expedition. It had been Volkert’s primary concern to avoid the fellow time travelers as much as possible. He observed them from distance and was satisfied with the fact that he knew no one of the soldiers by name, didn’t recall any of them in any particular way. It was therefore to be expected that he wouldn’t make any impression on them either.

  The biggest challenge was not to speak German. Once there had been an incident in which he had nearly betrayed himself. Two of the infantrymen had been sitting by the fire and made fun of a young Roman recruit who had vainly struggled with his luggage. Instead of helping him, they had uttered a number of very snide remarks in German, and these remarks eventually degenerated into insults of all Romans, the barbarians of this time, their primitiveness, their stench, and their disgusting eating habits. Anger about the arrogance and stupidity of his countrymen rose in Volkert. He almost went in between and would have shouted his reprimands. A sergeant had rescued him who had rebuked the two talkatives and assigned them a strenuous duty. Volkert had spoken a prayer of thanks afterwards. This was a warning to him. He had to exercise full self-control and keep facial expressions and gestures under control. A look, a pair a raised eyebrows, a grunt or sigh, all this could betray him when it struck an attentive observer. The best was to keep distance between hims
elf and the infantrymen as much as possible.

  At least in the previously outlined formation of the column he should be able to succeed in this. The German infantrymen would bring up the rear, together with the carts, where the expedition transported its supplies. There were new carts which had been brought by the Germans from Ravenna, they were sprung and had wheels with forged iron spokes that would be less likely to break. The technical innovation has been absorbed by the Roman legionaries with great interest. Instead of oxen or their own pitiful asses, powerful draft horses would pull the vehicles and their speed should increase. Thomas Volkert wouldn’t face the Germans a lot as he had been assigned with his men to the front of the column.

  When he turned back, Volkert overlooked Bertius, who sat like a sorry heap of meat on his horse, and whenever he believed himself unobserved, he threw Volkert angry looks. As the German had expected, the man was an excellent and skillful horseman, which had made him at once a candidate for the expedition. Since other officers shared Volkert’s disapproval of lazy slackers, they were very happy, after careful deliberation, to have found a good reason for the pudgy legionnaire to receive a meaningful assignment. Perhaps they hoped that he would generate the heart of a warrior and prove himself. Maybe they wanted to get rid of him and his eternal bragging, especially those who would stay behind in Noricum.

  Volkert glanced at the sky. It was late March, and unmistakably, spring was in the air. He took a deep breath and inhaled the spicy fragrance of nature awakening. The dawn of warm weather was one more reason for the relatively rapid departure. They wanted to come far today. Volkert had to be aware of the exact roadmap of his Centurion, and although they would still ride in familiar territory for the next few weeks, for a while even within the Roman frontiers, the task was ultimately to discern where the Hun’s advance had reached by now. The aim was to plan a counterattack to stop the Huns outside the Roman frontiers and thus to avoid the worst.

  Volkert couldn’t say that he was particularly happy with this job. The fear of dying in this dangerous mission and never being allowed to see Julia again was as painful as the realization that was about to put more distance between himself and her than he ever had.