The old soldier growled. “We are all sufferers in this bad time, my Emperor, no matter on whose side we stand.”
“Well put, old friend.”
“How do you know each other?” Godegisel asked.
Valens didn’t answer, but looked at the bearded man in silence. Belucius closed his eyes for a moment, as if to hide the presence of his guests from his perception, then a huge sigh escaped his gigantic chest before he began to speak.
“I once belonged to the personal guard of Valens,” he said softly.
“He saved my life,” Valens added.
“Then I displeased the Emperor when I told him my opinion.”
“It was an insignificant affair, but I lost control,” Valens said in a low voice.
“He banished me from his service and from the East,” the bearded man continued his story. “I came here. I bought some land. I drink a lot.”
He glanced at the big, empty amphorae. “Too much.”
“I regretted it later,” Valens said.
“Too late.”
“I was too proud to take him back to my service.”
“I was too proud to return to his services when my Emperor finally asked me to.”
“How long has it been?”
“Three years, sir.”
Valens just nodded. “I sent you gold.”
“I’ve drunk it.” The old soldier groaned. He hit the fat belly with his flat hand. “Now I’m no longer useful to you, my Emperor. No armor fits on this body anymore. It was pointless to go the long way to ask me personally.” He blinked and looked at his visitors, as if he saw them for the first time. “On the other hand, I thought you were dead, sir. Fallen at Adrianople. Killed by the Goths.”
“I caught him,” Godegisel said. “And now we need help.”
The bearded man nodded. “I’m no help to anyone.”
“One last service,” Valens said, in a pleading voice. “Then I will not bother you anymore. I can offer you neither gold nor position, old friend.”
“No gold?”
“I don’t have anything. Officially, I am dead.”
“Ah, politics.” The soldier spoke the word with an ardent disgust that seemed to shatter his massive body. “Then something else, Emperor.”
“What?”
“An apology.”
Valens was silent for a moment. “I have asked you to return to me.”
“Yes. But without offering me an apology.”
Valens pressed his lips on each other.
Belucius laughed. “It is hard even for a dead emperor to jump over his shadow.”
Valens forced a smile. “I’m still a fool, am I not?”
“The gods or the emperor decide that, not me.”
“As if you hadn’t formed an opinion long time ago.”
Now the bearded man had to laugh. He looked at Godegisel. “For you, it sounds like the bickering of an old couple, right?”
The Goth made a dismissing gesture. “Valens said you could help us. We need someone to go to Nemetacum and get someone for us.”
“Who?”
“Septimus Tiberius Collatus,” Valens said.
“He is no longer in town.”
“You are well informed,” the Emperor said, unmoved.
“One hears a lot. General Malobaudes himself has arrived in Belgica. One hears that he is not too well disposed toward the Comes of Britain. Rumors are making the round.”
“Rumors?”
“Malobaudes seems to think that Maximus should be relieved of his post, and that the lions should be fed with him, and that only Gratian stands between the Comes and beasts.”
“Is that so …” Valens murmured to himself.
“That is the rumor.”
“You have your sources.”
“I go to many different tavernas – I have to, because I often have to drink without immediate payment. Really no gold in your pocket, my Emperor?”
Valens smiled. “So Malobaudes resides in Nemetacum?”
“They say that. But he doesn’t govern anything. He is largely excluded from the administration. He only looks over the water and watches Maximus. No idea what that one is cooking up. I hear good news about him. He’s very popular with his men.”
“I heard that as well,” Valens said neutrally. “Can you connect us to Malobaudes? We must speak to him. If we just ride into the city, it might happen that we aren’t allowed to come close. It would be enough if we could talk to one of his staff officers.”
The bearded man looked doubtfully at Valens. “Who will deny the Emperor of the East?”
“I’m considered dead.”
“One more reason.”
“Maybe I’m a fraud.”
“No. You are not.”
“How do you know?”
“You still haven’t apologized to me.”
Valens lowered his head. Against this form of argumentation, he evidently had nothing more to say.
“Will you help us, Belucius?”
“To Nemetacum, huh?”
“It’s urgent.”
The old soldier sighed and straightened. “Urgent. It’s always urgent.”
He rambled on his feet. “No horse is carrying me anymore, my Emperor.”
“I see.”
“I have a cart and two donkeys.”
“That will help.”
“I’ll start right away. Shouldn’t I bring Malobaudes? It will be difficult but I can try.”
Valens exchanged a quick glance with Godegisel, who only lifted his shoulders. This was the expertise of the former Emperor, here the Goth couldn’t help.
“Just get us a passport that instructs the guards not to stop the carrier of the paper. Then I’ll come to the city myself.”
Belucius nodded. “That’s better. The General himself might not receive me. But I know others. I get the donkeys.”
He walked over to a chest, rummaged around, then covered himself with a coat big enough to erect a two-man tent. He tied the gigantic fabric in front of his belly and now seemed to be all the more impressive. He scratched his chin.
“No gold, my Emperor?”
“No gold. Maybe later, but I can’t promise.”
The veteran nodded. He turned and trudged toward the door. Then he was stopped by the voice of his former master.
“Belucius?”
“Lord?”
Valens took a deep breath. “Please accept my apology.”
The bearded man narrowed his eyes, nodded to himself, raised his hand and went without another word.
When he had closed the door behind him, Godegisel looked questioningly at Valens, who shrugged.
“I’m not used to that, Goth.” Valens paused. “This is a very instructive episode for me.”
Godegisel could only agree.
While the former legionary traveled to Nemetacum, Godegisel and Valens enjoyed the hospitality of the man. It was clear from the documents on his table that he possessed land, which he apparently farmed with slaves whose accommodation was outside the village. He seemed to care for his own domestic needs, there were no servants here at all. The two men quickly found to their relief that, in addition to the wine, some food was to be found in a small storage room so they didn’t have to leave the house anymore. They didn’t expect Belucius to return before the next day, so they found time to relax.
When Valens, after a brief investigation, discovered a small bathing-house on the property, with a stone tub and a large copper kettle under which to light a fire, the enthusiasm of the former Emperor was great. Godegisel wasn’t too fond of the passionate enthusiasm of the Romans for baths, but he was at least as happy as his traveling companion, as the long trip had rarely given them the possibility of real hygiene. Once it became clear that Belucius
also provided for good reserves in other matters, Valens could no longer be held. He lit a fire and poured abundant water, which the former soldier kept in two large barrels. It took some time until the large amount of water was hot enough to fill a decent bath, but as it was, both men settled down in the tub with a pleasant groan. It was just big enough to sit side by side, but that didn’t stop their enthusiasm. With metal scrapers, they began to scratch the dirt from the skin, used coarse cloths to clean themselves thoroughly, and soon the skin of both men took a red color. Visibly relaxed, they left the bathroom and felt properly clean for the first time in many days. But as their clothes didn’t deserve this attribute at all, they had no choice but to look for something suitable from the stores of the soldier. The oversized tunics were many times too big for them. Finally, they decided to wash their own clothes, and until they became dry again to tie their host’s tunics around their bodies. The fact that a former Emperor had found himself in the situation of having to wash his own clothes had a certain irony, which escaped Valens in no way. He didn’t complain, however, and was just as happy as the Goth when the work was completed and the clothes dried in the living room of their host.
Godegisel was astonished about the change visible in Valens. The man who had hardly been approachable, caught in madness and dreaming, whom he had met after the Battle of Adrianople, had given way to a completely different personality. Was it the martyrdom of his captivity that had changed him so much? Was it Maximus’s betrayal that led him back to reason and shaped his own role in this game anew? Godegisel couldn’t tell. But he sensed a special determination in Valens. Saving his nephew from betrayal was his way of repaying a debt. Godegisel didn’t know what all this meant to him or to the future role of his people. Valens had been sent to Maximus to be a thorn in the flesh of his new masters, and now he helped the Emperor of the East to remove one. The Goth didn’t know whether he was acting for the benefit of his people, but he was sure that all this could be for his personal advantage, and that wasn’t a perspective he wanted to deny himself.
Yet …
“What’s going to happen to me?” he finally asked the question, as they sat together before two jugs from Belucius’s wine store. Meanwhile, they wore their clothes again, although they were still a little stiff.
Valens raised his head tiredly, but his eyes seemed bright. He must have understood at once where the question of the young Goth was aiming at. He took his time with an answer. “What is your wish, my friend?”
“My desire is to live in prosperity and perhaps a bit more securely than in the past. I don’t ask for anything excessive or for power. I get the impression that politics is not for me.”
Valens smiled. “So young and so much wisdom! That would be a waste for the Empire! A dux you should make of yourself, my friend!”
Godegisel raised his hands. “No dux, no general, no agent. I was a soldier, I am of nobility, and my conspiratorial work has brought me here, into a situation I don’t feel too comfortable with. No, noble Emperor, no such honors for me. I feel like your old henchman when I concentrate my interest on the sound of coins and the seclusion of my own house. I’m much better off with that.”
Valens shook his head. “Do you really want to say that you would reject the offer of honors and position? Now you can easily make assertions, but if my nephew offers you a high-income office, a large villa with many slaves, a prestigious function of high responsibility – would you turn away and refuse?”
Godegisel thought for a moment before he answered. “I can’t foresee how I will behave in the future.” When he saw the triumphant smile on the face of the former Emperor, he quickly added, “I’m not yet as old as you, and perhaps I don’t know myself good enough for a final judgment. But although I’m still young in years, I’ve already experienced a lot. We left our territory when I was hardly a boy, and all my life so far consisted of an endless journey and many struggles. I’ve fought against Huns and with them, and it seems as if the same fate awaits the Romans. Yes, I’m now nominally a Roman citizen, and perhaps that means that I’m now at rest. But my life experience has made me smart. I understand that I can rely on only a few things. On my brothers, on my immediate family, yes. But which office is so constituted that one could build his life on it? I mean, noble Valens, look at yourself. A few months ago an emperor, now a refugee in his own country!”
Valens nodded thoughtfully. “You have a point, my friend,” he said with a lowered voice. “And yet what alternative remains to the man who has been pushed into this life? Should he let himself be moved by fate or should he try to take things into his own hands? When I am offered a title I have a chance to make something out of it. If the Lord has anything else in mind, it shall be so. But to crawl into a corner and try to escape all of this … Did you hear about the hermits? Priests who retreat to the desert, in caves or elsewhere in the wilderness? They hope for what you are thirsting for – Peace.”
Again Godegisel considered the right answer for a moment. “I don’t believe, Valens, that you understood me,” he said, without reproach in the voice. “I’m not concerned with shedding responsibility that is placed on my shoulders. Ultimately, it’s about making decisions where I have the freedom to do so. If circumstances require it, I’ll do all that is necessary. But if there is an alternative, I prefer to step into the second line and give myself some more rest.”
Valens smiled knowingly. “That’s all well said. For what the circumstances require that is ultimately determined by everyone for himself. So we wait until the day has come when you might be offered offices and honors, and whether you will, at that point, then define the circumstances either way. At the very latest, when your knighthood comes up and the Emperor pushes it into your hand, you might consider that the circumstances aren’t that terrible. You should leave. Take your things. If Belucius brings someone from Malobaudes’ retinue, I don’t want you to be there. Stay outside, hide in the barn or near another building in the vicinity. You aren’t concerned with imperial politics, and I feel that it might even be disgusting for you. I don’t want you to go further into all this. If you’re not looking for any reward, it’s time for you to leave me alone with my dealings. I’ve been doing this business since my youth. But you can indeed take another path.”
Godegisel couldn’t help himself laughing. Valens had indeed become a different person. Instead of imposing honor and office on him, and, as far as possible, enticing him with the lure of a career, he had accepted the views of the young man, even respected them. And the Emperor’s proposal was indeed wise. The Goth had done his work. It might be time for him to take care of himself. “I’ll be close,” he promised. “But shouldn’t I stay?”
Valens raised his hands. “You are a Goth. The time travelers know you, as you told me. You are close to the Judge. Do you want to endanger your own people? What will happen if the Goths are linked to the betrayal of Maximus, no matter how honorably you acted? You risk the peace that your people have just gained. Remember this: As soon as Belucius approaches, disappear from here. After all, I’ll have my bodyguard back.”
Godegisel didn’t reply. The last argument hadn’t yet occurred to him. One more reason not to dive deeper into the snake-pit of Roman politics.
So they sat silently side by side, looking into the flames of the fire place that produced heat for their tired bones, waiting for something to happen. Both of them were exhausted, but both of them were also disturbed by an inner unrest. None of them wanted to sleep. Still, their bodies took their toll, and as the hours passed, they fell into a doze, only occasionally frightened by cracking firewood, or the rustle of a rat. Half-stretched out on their chairs, their eyes were closed.
Then the door opened, a cold gust of wind came in, and the two men jumped up from their seats, suddenly awake.
Belucius’s massive body stood in the doorway. Outside, one could already discern the first hint of dawn. The veteran smiled, closed the do
or behind him, looked around as if to make sure that his guests hadn’t done any harm. Then he lifted a bag from his back and dropped it onto the table. While Belucius gazed quietly at the extinct fire, Godegisel, somewhat relaxed, peered into the bag. Cheese, sausage, bread, as well as grain for the porridge of the Romans, which once being served in the legions, seemed to be a delicacy for the rest of their lives. Nevertheless, the Goth was grateful for the breakfast, because he felt hungry. Valens’ appreciative smile indicated that the former Emperor felt the same.
Belucius re-ignited the fire then sank to a chair. He nodded gently at Godegisel, and he took out the food. The old legionary seized a piece of cheese, broke off a proper chunk, and put it in his mouth. It was obvious that the man wouldn’t report until he had satisfied certain basic needs. When Valens broke open the remaining amphora and began to warm wine over the fire, the massive man grunted in agreement. His eyes twinkled. Godegisel got the impression that he wasn’t a bearer of bad news and that his mission went well. Likewise, he decided to exercise patience and to strengthen himself.
Finally, Belucius wiped his mouth, glanced at Valens, and had a relaxing burp before he spoke. “I was able to talk to someone in the military administration. An old acquaintance. Drinks too much.”
“And?”
“He was surprised, almost enthusiastic. At first, he didn’t want to believe me, but I told him your story. He has agreed to meet you and understands the needs for your safety. Tonight he’s coming.”
“He’s coming?”
“He said the city was full of people close to Maximus. He himself wouldn’t know whom to trust and whom not. He will be on his way with some reliable men, and he hopes that no one will follow him. But he wants this encounter to remain secret, unlike what would happen if you were going to town.”
Valens nodded. “He has a point. I wasn’t aware that Maximus’ reach is so visible here.” He looked at the young Goth, who had nothing to complain about the plan either.
“So we’re waiting,” Belucius finally said. “It’s better if you stay in the house and don’t run around in the village. We shouldn’t take any unnecessary risk.”
The Emperor's Men 3: Passage Page 23
