The Emperor's Men 3: Passage

by Dirk van den Boom

  They reached the limestone, and Valens followed the young man to the next road mark. Time and again, they looked around. But nothing was to be seen. When they had moved about twenty yards from the main building, they discerned a moving light, a sentry on patrol. One man yawned audibly, Godegisel heard how he scratched his beard and murmured something. The two fugitives remained as if rooted in the ground. The guards wandered past them, without even realizing their existence.

  Godegisel allowed himself a careful exhalation.

  They waited a few moments before the wandering light had been swallowed by the fog.

  The Goth pulled Valens by the sleeve. The former Emperor was willing to follow through the darkness. They walked silently forward, always careful on their way. It wasn’t long before they saw the band of the cobbled military road before them. At one of the markers, Godegisel recognized one of the white signs he had left behind. Everything had gone well. If fortune continued to hold on, their escape would remain undetected until the late morning hours, when a slave usually brought them breakfast.

  They held themselves on the empty street, pulled the cloths from the boots and stuffed them into their pockets, always careful not to leave any traces. They made a strong start to make the most of their advantage. Godegisel had been able to find out a few things about the area in casual conversations. He knew that about five miles from here was a small settlement, consisting of several farms, not quite a latifundium but a respectable property. They would surely arrive there before dawn, and then they intended to buy horses and ride them as fast as possible toward the coast. Of course, this would be noticeable, and a potential witness would quickly identify them from the descriptions, but they’d still enjoy several hours’ lead in the best case, and since they didn’t have to spare their horses, this could be decisive for the success of their escape.

  They marched silently, almost doggedly. Godegisel could’ve made it faster, but Valens was no longer the youngest and had endured not too many marches as an emperor. He had to take a break every now and then, drink a sip of water. Still, he was brave, never groaned or lamented, looking at the young Goths apologetically once he stumbled. Godegisel kept his patience because he knew that it was only their plan to reach the settlement anyway, and there was more than enough time for that.

  As a matter of fact, they arrived before the dawn of the morning. They stood before the closed gate of the largest courtyard, which had a stone enclosure and from whose interior they heard the snorting of awakening horses. When the sun was visible on the horizon and cocks greeted the dawning day with loud crowing, the inhabitants of the estate also became active.

  Godegisel tapped the gate forcefully, several times, for his signal was not immediately answered.

  Once the gate was opened and a man’s tired, distrustful face appeared, he looked at two figures dressed in thick coats, who raised their empty hands and asked for a conversation with the landlord. When they emphasized their request with a copper coin, which they pressed into the hand of the servant, it was not long before they sat at the breakfast table of the proprietor. At first, he was full of distrust, but as golden solidi flashed and the travelers offered him a good price for two less good horses, greed prevailed. They soon agreed, added two old saddles – not for nothing, but at an acceptable price –, and the travelers said goodbye within an hour. The horses, not particularly handsome or trained animals, were freshly fed and followed the commands of their new masters quite willingly, trotting forward.

  Everything seemed to be going according to plan. Godegisel was very pleased with himself. They would have to be careful with their money, but the next and then the last major issue was the crossing over the canal to Gaul, where, hopefully, one would quickly find admission to Imperial officials who were not with Maximus. The former Emperor claimed to know some old followers of his brother Valentinian in Nemetacum, from where they would steer their steps to get to the imperial court as soon as possible.

  As it grew brighter, the streets became populated. Once they encountered a military patrol, Godegisel became involuntarily nervous and stiffened in the saddle, even though the soldiers came from the opposite direction and couldn’t possibly know anything about their escape. The fact helped that Maximus couldn’t publicly announce that the former Emperor of the East, allegedly fallen before Adrianopel, had escaped from his custody, like a convict, and was immediately to be arrested. This would certainly lead to a great upheaval and would eventually be reported to the imperial court, which would ultimately have had the same effect as a personal appearance, with the only difference that if Maximus were to capture the two men, their future would be highly uncertain.

  Godegisel didn’t want to be recognized, and Valens, too, remained very determined to remain incognito.

  And for the time being, they were lucky. No one seemed to take after them, and they rode at a brisk pace, hardly taking breaks, only once to allow the horses to drink.

  They estimated that they would need two days to the canal coast. As they deliberately bypassed the capital of the province, where the news of their escape would most likely be spread early, they had to find one of the smaller villages, preferably a sleepy fishing settlement. Valens had a rough idea of the geography of Britain, a knowledge almost entirely missing for Godegisel. He had become acquainted with the immediate environment of his prison, but for the rest he was dependent on the former emperor. But Valens had never set foot on British soil before, although his father had once been Comes in Britain. It was therefore necessary, the farther they rode eastward, to ask more frequently for the way.

  At the end of the second day, completely undisturbed and unmolested by anyone, they reached a wind-blown cluster of wooden huts, which could only be described with great imagination as a village. Godegisel had already pursed his lips in disgust and made the suggestion of looking for a more promising place along the coast, when Valens had pointed, without any comment, to the three masts stretching into the darkness of the sky. Fishing boats, and not even the smallest, lay on the beach. They were about six meters long, could be rowed or sailed, as each had a single mast. Fishing nets were neatly folded next to the boats. Normally two, if not three men, were part of the crew, and the boat, equipped with a deep hull, could take a not inconsiderable catch if the fishermen were lucky.

  This wasn’t the case too frequently, judging from the state of the neighboring settlement. The weather on the canal was often wild and unpredictable. Fishing was a dangerous profession and apparently mostly not very profitable.

  That was exactly what they needed.

  They approached the hut closest to the ships. Thin smoke rose from the stone chimney to the sky. Behind the closed shutters, gloomy light was visible. In front of the door, which was covered with a kind of wooden awning, the implements of a fisherman lay. It seemed no one feared thieves over here. The men looked at the equipment and rated it as poor. They looked at each other and grinned.

  Godegisel knocked decidedly.

  It took a moment, then a dull voice was heard. It sounded wary. “Who’s there?”

  “Travelers,” Valens replied. “We need a passage to Gaul. We pay well.”

  Whether it was the last three words or general philanthropy that induced the fisherman to open the door, Godegisel didn’t know. A bar was moved, and the bearded face of a man, weathered, prematurely aged, appeared. He stared at the two travelers for a few seconds. Valens and Godegisel stood still, smiled kindly, which was very difficult for them in the face of the stinging smell of fish in various degrees of decay, which arose from the hut.

  It was Godegisel, after all, who brought out his purse and showed the bearded one a golden solidus. The fisherman nearly lost his eyes in the face of this sum. He opened the door and ordered the travelers gesticulating to enter.

  The hut consisted of exactly one room, and the entire family of the good man seemed to be gathered together. A woman, who was also c
onsumed and looked old, stared nervously at them, in her hands a pair of trousers, which she obviously just mended. There were two sources of light – a fireplace over the chimney and a lamp, which apparently burned fish oil. A wide bed stood in one of the corners, on which two children slept, both certainly not older than five or six years. According to Godegisel’s estimate, the parents couldn’t be more than in their thirtieth year, but they looked considerably older. They were poor people, although they were not living in absolute poverty. They had a house, the roof was apparently not leaking, and a boat, they had certain utensils, their clothes were old but clean, and otherwise everything seemed in place. Even if one could hardly speak of modest prosperity, their livelihood was bought with the hardship of being hard-working – hard work, which would lead them to death before their time. Godegisel glanced at the sleeping children. They would inherit all this. A perspective that wasn’t too enjoyable. The reform policy of Emperor Gratian had a good thing – they were no longer forced to take over the profession of their father. Perhaps they would sell their inheritance and try to start something different. This thought felt comforting for the Goth.

  “Sit down, gentlemen,” the man said, pointing to an empty bench near the fire. Since his visitors were wearing good clothes and apparently had been riding horses, it was easy to regard them as distinguished personalities. Godegisel assumed that they didn’t even have to offer the fisherman money. If they left him the two horses, tired, but in good condition, as payment for the crossing, he would’ve already earned a fortune. He would’ve little use for the animals, but the sale would bring him more than enough – certainly almost a year’s income if Godegisel correctly assessed the hut.

  “We are travelers with urgent business,” Valens came to the heart of the matter. “We need to translate to Gaul speedily, best directly to Belgica, and look for a man whose boat can make a journey and who won’t refuse to do us the service.”

  A greedy glitter sparkled in the fisherman’s eyes. Everyone here earned something on the side, even if it was by occasional smuggling. At this time of the year, the weather on the canal was rough and the crossing dangerous. This would, Godegisel knew …

  “The weather is bad, gentlemen,” the fisherman said, as predicted. “The sea is wild. It’s a dangerous endeavor. I do not only risk my boat but also my life.”

  Valens sighed. “We’re well aware of that. We reward you amply for your risk. In front of the hut, there are two horses with saddles. They should be yours. You can sell them, and you’ll get a decent amount.”

  “Yes, but there also will be many questions. Where did I suddenly get two horses? Won’t there be questions from some … interested parties?”

  The fisherman obviously had a brain. He might not have a clue about the actual nature of the two “noble gentlemen” but seemed to have an idea about the nature of their journey. Godegisel suspected that nothing could be done. He exchanged a glance with Valens.

  “Then the two horses and one solidus.”

  “Show me the coin again!”

  It changed ownership, and the fisherman and his wife looked at it in the flickering light of the fire. He bit on it with his decayed teeth and nodded contentedly. “Not unnecessarily stretched with bronze, a good deal,” he admitted unhappily.

  “The horses. This is a good deal,” Valens added.

  The fisherman nodded hesitantly. “Good, I agree. But not at night, that is suicide. At sunrise, I will start. You can spend the night in my humble hut.”

  That sounded reasonable. Possibly, the miraculous sailors from the future could navigate at night, when the clouds covered the stars and the winds were unpredictable. But a normal fisherman would know that only daylight guaranteed a safe journey, and the two refugees also wanted to arrive in Gaul alive and dry.

  They made up for an overnight camp while the fisherman took care of his newly acquired horses. The ferryman’s wife looked tiredly at the travelers while she resumed her stuffing. When Godegisel took some hard bread, some cheese, and a few apples out of his bag, she rose to the cooking-place and drew something from a large, iron pot hung over it. She gave the men two wooden plates, the fish smell increased, but with a sudden pleasant note. Without further questioning, the men accepted the offered soup, in which cooked fish chops swam. After a day on the back of a horse in cold and windy weather, every warm meal was welcome. After Godegisel led his wooden spoon to his mouth, he could tell that the soup was quite tasty and constituted together with the bread a full-fledged meal. He nodded to the fisherman’s wife, who smiled at him quietly and went back to repairing clothes. Godegisel had quite ascertained that while her husband was feeding the horses outside, she had concealed the solidus under her apron without her husband observing. Probably, she was responsible for the budget in every respect. Probably, the money would actually be put to good use.

  It wasn’t long before the men, plucked into their coats, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. They were no longer listening when the fisherman came in, nodded to his wife and stowed away the removed saddles, which he would surely sell separately.

  When they were awakened, they both felt as if they had just slumbered. The scenery had not changed; the fire flickered, the lamp burned, the wind was rustling outside, and the sea was audibly agitated.

  “The sun is rising,” the fisherman muttered. “Time to leave.”

  Their breakfast was short, but the woman packed some supplies into a bag, dried fish, and other hard bread. There was a hose with diluted wine. The well-paying guests should obviously enjoy the crossing, as far as this was possible at all in the face of the rough sea.

  The children were still asleep and didn’t notice their father’s departure. Godegisel and Valens helped to push the big boat into the water, climbed over the rail even as their feet were already wet from the icy water. It was still quite dark, the spray was burning in their faces, but the fisherman seemed unimpressed by all this and kept silent without directing any word toward the passengers. The refugees found themselves in the wildly wavering boat, and then they had anchored the oars and began, at the order of the fisherman, to use their muscles. The boatman himself sat at the helm at the stern of the vessel, watching the two rowers critically, then the bow was directed to the sea. He ordered to stop the oars and set the little sail on the only mast, which immediately filled with wind. With aching arms, the travelers felt the natural force pushing them toward the sea, and not only Godegisel had the idea if it had been wise to consume the fish soup the night before …

  Godegisel wasn’t a sailor. He mistrusted the water.

  He endured the fisherman’s knowing grin, as he finally bent over the edge of the ship to vomit. Even Valens, who had been on ships, was green in his face. It was a difference, whether to embark in good weather on a trip on a quietly rowing trireme or to sit in a nutshell where the waves rode up and down. Very unconciliably, he too, just a few minutes after the Goth, leaned forward and sacrificed to the gods.

  The fisherman was unmoved, reached into his wife’s provisions – which had obviously been seized to be used only by himself – and began to chew. The sight alone brought the two travelers back to choking. They forced themselves to look everywhere but not to the boatman, who obviously felt completely at ease.

  The weather was not particularly stormy. There was a fresh wind blowing, and the waves were distinctly felt, but Godegisel could see that the fisherman wasn’t concerned, so it was obviously not that bad. As the sun slowly ascended in the sky, the cloud cover broke up and springing warmth spread in the boat. The wind blew well and filled the sail, they made good progress. When Valens asked, the fisherman looked at the sky and muttered something of an hour. He didn’t cross the canal at its narrowest point, but sailed south. This was in the interests of the travelers. They couldn’t enjoy the ride despite the clear weather conditions. They felt too sick, and they swayed too much with every relatively harmless wave. Godegisel kne
w he couldn’t swim. He guessed that the former Emperor was no different. He knew that many sailors deliberately didn’t learn to swim, because in the event of a shipwreck, the prospect of salvation was in any case small, and one wouldn’t want to unnecessarily extend his suffering. Godegisel considered this fatalistic attitude for a while, but came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to make it his own. He preferred to be, in any event, floating with a piece of the wreck or to learn how to swim.

  Then the journey was over. Without being asked, the fisherman landed them in a place that at first sight didn’t look as if it was suitable, for it seemed to consist only of steep coast. But then they saw a tiny piece of flat land, from which a stone path led across different angles. That the fisherman didn’t make this trip for the first time was clear to them. And this also spoke for the secrecy of the man, should the men of Maximus come to his village. When the boat landed with a crunch, the men jumped out and dragged it a few yards on the shore. Valens took a silver coin from his bag and gave it to the man as a bonus. The fisherman grinned broadly and raised his hand in greeting. He had done the business of his life, of that Godegisel was sure.

  They helped him to push the boat back into the water. Now the wind was unfavorable. The fisherman sat undisturbed at the helm and retreated with agonizing slowness. In the face of his arm-muscles, which the strong Goth had mustered with adoring recognition, it was in fact to be expected that this work wasn’t foreign to him. Using the oars, the wind not favorable, it would take more than two hours to return. But it wasn’t even the noon. With a little luck, the fisherman would return as a rich man to his family before dawn. As Godegisel looked after the slowly diminishing boat, he was sure that the two horses had already found a new owner, and the proceeds rested safely under the wife’s apron.