The Emporers Men

by Dirk van den Boom

  “Enjoy it, Captain,” he said half-jokingly. “I have tried to ask our friend here about the coffee bean, and he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

  “Ah … yes, it will probably remain so for a while, if we do nothing about it,” Rheinberg said, smiling. He pointed to the coffee pot hanging over a hastily kindled fire. “We are lucky to have a good load of coffee with us, but even the best stock is going to run out. Africanus, will you try it?”

  The trierarch looked suspiciously at the black liquid in the cup. “I’m not sure.”

  “It’s inspiring. With something sweet, maybe?”

  Becker scooped some sugar into the cup. Africanus, under the encouraging gaze of the two men, finally took it hesitantly then brought it gently to his mouth.

  The two Germans looked curiously at the Roman officer. Africanus sipped. He rolled the liquid in his mouth back and forth. He swallowed. Then he grimaced. “That’s disgusting,” he said. “This is something you like to drink?”

  “Ah, and what about this fish sauce …”

  “Garum.”

  “Yes. Now that’s disgusting!” affirmed Becker.

  “A delight!” contradicted Africanus, took another deep sip of coffee and closed his eyes. Then he finished the cup, handed it to Becker and looked at him triumphantly.

  “What?” the captain asked.

  “I drank it all.”

  “Yes.”

  “You have left the garum untouched. I have seen how you dropped your bowl full of good meat, probably in the hope that nobody would have noticed.”

  Becker looked a little embarrassed. “Hadn’t thought that someone was watching me.”

  Africanus showed a broad grin. “I had a good view on your sins.”

  “I promise I’ll try it again … in Sirmium.”

  “If the Emperor invites you to dinner, then be well advised not to criticize the cooking too much,” Africanus added. “That would be … undiplomatic.”

  Rheinberg received a descriptive view from the trierarch. The German apparently had little pleasure to look more closely at this aspect of their mission.

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I reach it,” Becker said finally.

  Africanus seemed to understand the idiom, as he returned the grin and pointed to the saddlebag of his horse. “Not that I can’t help you with this, my friend. If you lust for it immediately, I’d be happy …”

  “No, no!” Becker raised his hands defensively. “This really isn’t necessary … but thanks for the kind offer.”

  Africanus’ grin indicated that this offer was supposed to be anything but friendly.

  Less than half an hour passed before Becker ordered the men to commence the march once again. This time Rheinberg decided not retreat lazily into the cab of the truck, but instead to keep marching at least for a while.

  About an hour later, he found himself on the back of the one of the spare horses. His feet were sore, and his boots suddenly appeared to be too tight nearly everywhere. He was definitely out of practice and had become increasingly been the subject of joyful glances by his comrades from the infantry. Finally, he had accepted Africanus’ offer to ride with him, although he had a big problem to cope with the horse without stirrups. On his personal priority list, this technical innovation slipped a great step upwards.

  As night fell, they had made a good first day, but Sirmium was still at least two more days away.

  29

  The men had possibly imagined something else connected to the term “hostage.” Ultimately, they were very happy not to be accommodated in a dark dungeon, but in the guest wing of a very distinguished town house. Their host wasn’t in the city, the house belonged to a Roman senator, who currently held an official position in Gaul. But his family had made the property available, and so the guests were billeted there. Volkert and von Klasewitz each received a very spacious suite, Köhler and Sergeant Behrens shared another nice room, and the two infantry corporals could make themselves comfortable in a third room – and comfortable they were, because all rooms were nicely decorated with fresh fruit on the tables, soft beds and furnishings. Von Klasewitz warned them to deal carefully with the furniture, and it was one of the first of his commands about which Volkert had nothing to complain about.

  The ensign’s mind was elsewhere anyhow.

  The men in the villa were guarded only subtly. The doorway, the only passage through the wall enclosing the property, was one of the few places where soldiers were recognizable. They were also searched only fleetingly. At their service were a number of deliberately silent slaves, and one of these, an older, bareheaded man, had slipped Volker in an unguarded moment a piece of paper with a message.

  Volkert didn’t unfold the papyrus immediately as he instantly knew from whom it came.

  Julia!

  His heart pounded as he excused himself for a moment and finally disappeared in an unused room, carefully paying attention to the fact that no one was watching.

  He unfolded the paper with trembling fingers, only to immediately determine with great disappointment that the doodle was not for him to decipher. He quickly found that between the normally written Latin and careful inscriptions on walls and columns, a large difference was visible and this caused him great trouble in reading. Unfortunately, Julia had not thought of that fact.

  Volkert felt a bit desperate, sat heavily on a stool and rested his head in one hand, while with the other he …

  The back!

  Volkert looked up. Julia had indeed not acted without thought! On the back she had apparently repeated the same text in Greek! Volkert was getting along with that language so much better, and with newly awakened ambition he started to decipher the Latin text as well. He had the feeling that he would quite appreciate this ability in the future. He read the Greek text several times, and a hot joy rose to his head. After some time, he had also deciphered the Latin part, investing some diligent effort.

  “Scribenti mii dictat Amor mostratque Cupido: A peream, sine te si dea esse velim!”

  “Amor dictated what I should write and Cupid led my hand: Ah, I would rather die than to be even a God without you!”

  Volkert smiled. Then a date and time: The third hour of the evening. The date of tomorrow.

  And the sentence: “Virum vendere nolo meom …”

  Volkert mused. This sentence was not in the Greek version. He found the translation after some thought and muttered the phrase silently. “I will not sell my husband …”

  What was the purpose of this? Thoughts whirled through his head. Why should she … and why did she call him …? He didn’t understand. He hoped she would tell him, because date and time left no doubt Julia was still in Ravenna, although he had last heard that her father had banished her to a country house. And she wanted to meet him.

  He would wait for her.

  His heart beat. He remembered Rheinberg’s warnings, his status as a hostage, the conduct expected of him. But what should he do? Ignore Julia’s message? A secretive conversation couldn’t hurt! He felt that his confidence in the senator’s daughter was larger than the binding force of his orders or the memory of the reprimand he’d collected.

  And he had to know the meaning of this last sentence. Everything in him yearned for an answer. He couldn’t let it rest. He would meet Julia. And then they would see, yes, then they would see …

  Volkert was lost in thought, and in his dreams he felt Julia’s lips gently on his skin. He kept the dream tight for a while, like almost every night before he went to bed, since that fateful evening.

  “My lord!”

  The ensign was startled, automatically pocketed the note. A slave stood in the doorway.

  “Sir, the other gentlemen are looking for you. Guests have arrived.”

  Volkert rose. “Visitors?”

  “Someone from church. An envoy of the Archbishop!”

  It was less the fact itself that elicited the Ensign’s suspicion – it was more this mixture of respect and fear vibra
ting in the slave’s voice. Volkert followed the man through the corridors of the sprawling villa until they arrived in a tastefully decorated room in which the homeowner apparently used to receive guests. Von Klasewitz was there, as Köhler and Sergeant Behrens.

  “We have been waiting for you.” von Klasewitz greeted the Ensign with a critical undertone. “We have a guest.”

  The attention of the ensign was aimed at the man in robes, standing beside von Klasewitz and bowing. The courtesy didn’t hide the impression the visitor made on Volkert: The pointed nose, close-set eyes, his face haggard-looking, none of it elicited great sympathy.

  “Father Petronius is the authorized representative of the Archbishop of Ravenna,” drawled von Klasewitz. “He has come to meet us.”

  “To get to know us?” asked Volkert. “What a great honor.”

  “In fact,” said Petronius. He had a penetrating voice. The priest was certainly a great preacher or a gifted demagogue. Volkert wasn’t sure whether there was always a very big difference between the two.

  “What can we offer you, Father?” von Klasewitz said with oil in his voice. Volkert had to concede that the officer’s language skills improved steadily since their arrival. To find recognition among the rich and powerful of Rome had spurred the first officer’s interest.

  “Water, thank you,” Petronius emphasized his modesty, which corresponded to his appearance. “My master, the Archbishop, has heard many wondrous tales about you. He is eager to find out to what extent they are true.”

  “What kind of stories?” Volkert asked, ignoring the punitive look of von Klasewitz.

  “Stories of fire and thunder, of a steel ship without a sail and oars, from the ease with which the alien visitors have crept into the hearts of those who rule in this city – and beyond!”

  “Anything else?”

  “My master heard that Roman senators are accompanying your captain to present himself to the Emperor and to find favor in his eyes.”

  “Whether they will find favor we’ll know only for certain once the emperor has made his decision,” said Volkert. He got a bad feeling about this man, and it was only reinforced by the false smile on his lips.

  “I assure you,” interrupted von Klasewitz and pushed himself between the priest and the ensign, “that we have only good intentions. In fact, we have proved this, as we have eliminated the threat posed by a notorious pirate.”

  Petronius took a cup of water from a slave. “Yes, I’ve heard. Either a noble act that deserves the applause of my church or a clever trick to gain confidence and to take advantage of it later.”

  “Exploit – for what?” asked Volkert. The ease with which Petronius formulated his allegations in this room disturbed him and he wondered why von Klasewitz didn’t respond accordingly – until he admitted to himself that this was exactly the conversational style of the first officer. The nobleman didn’t even seem to be bothered.

  Petronius looked searchingly at Volkert, before he answered. “What, indeed … what?” the priest repeated pondering. “A very good question. Can you give me an answer?”

  “We don’t really beg the question,” replied Volkert. “We entertain no dark intentions, if you’re accusing us of any.”

  Petronius held up his hands. “Nobody wants to accuse anyone. Absolutely not! I only collect information for the Archbishop, nothing more. I make no judgments, which alone is the task of my Lord.”

  Volkert didn’t believe him. Petronius appeared here not just as a mere agent of his master, such as a lower henchman who listens and faithfully reports. The man before him was more than a simple priest, and the way he asked his questions led to the conclusion that he had a very accurate opinion of what he intended to report to the Archbishop.

  And that meant he had a plan, a purpose, had planned more with this meeting in his desire to learn to know the Germans.

  “Maybe we should have a conversation with the Archbishop,” Volkert suggested.

  Von Klasewitz nodded enthusiastically, although the ensign suspected that he did so for very different reasons than Volkert would have liked. “An excellent idea, ensign! An audience with the Archbishop! With pleasure I would also visit a church!”

  Petronius nodded measured. “Yeah, sure, such an audience can be arranged in due time. And I’m delighted that you want to celebrate mass with us. There should be an opportunity as soon as possible. What kind of service is it you prefer?”

  Von Klasewitz looked a little confused. “Well, one celebrated by the Archbishop himself would be preferable.”

  Volkert sighed silently. Von Klasewitz dodged, without knowing it, a skillfully laid trap. He himself hadn’t noticed much of the church dispute that threatened to split the empire at this time, but he knew that Rheinberg had ordered extreme caution when discussing religious issues. On this topic one very quickly walked on brittle ice.

  Petronius seemed to accept von Klasewitz’s answer for now.

  “I’m pleased. I’ll send you a messenger with an invitation when the time comes. I hear you’re hostages – you may not be allowed to walk around freely in the city.”

  “We are hostages, but they treat us like guests,” said von Klasewitz. “To attend a church service should be no problem.”

  “Good, good. But if you are hostages, against which danger is it the authorities want to be guarded by inviting you as … guests?”

  “It’s a precaution, I would say,” replied von Klasewitz not without cunning. “We’ll have to, I admit, show our good will. To give hostages, without complaint, is a proof of such, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Petronius smiled sourly. One could see that he would like this part of the discussion to be steered in a different direction. But he couldn’t do more than to agree with the first officer’s assessment.

  The conversation continued for a half an hour. Volkert was hardly forced to intervene again, because von Klasewitz kept the good priest occupied. Rather than be interviewed by him, he asked his own questions, especially with regard to the impending schism in the church between the Arians and the Trinitarians. Volkert listened attentively, because he himself had not yet grasped too much of it, although it was a very important discussion in this time. Petronius himself was a convinced Trinitarian, and everyone in this century seemed to be entirely convinced of something. That he presented the Arian view slightly less euphoric, and found all sorts of derogatory words for their position wasn’t surprising. It was a bit strange for Volkert to find out that the dispute ultimately rested only on one specific question: What was Jesus – God Himself as the Son of God, and therefore divine, or a person subordinate to God? Arius, one of the church elders, took the latter view, so his followers were called Arians, while the other party, which insisted on the divine trinity, was designated as Trinitarians. Volkert saw that this dispute had a long history and knew the Trinitarians would achieve victory – sometimes by quite violent means. Here, however, in the year 378, the outcome was still uncertain. Currently, the Trinitarian doctrine even seemed to be in a defensive position, because while in the west Trinitarian and Arian bishops were spread throughout the Empire, eastern Rome was dominated by the Arians. Volkert remembered from school how this dispute ended in the complete defeat of the Arians. As with the entire Church policy, this discussion had a lot to do with power and political intrigue. The successor of the current emperor, Theodosius, in cooperation with the bishop of Milan, seemed to have been instrumental in the defeat of the Arian “heresy.” Rheinberg had indicated his intention to prevent the appointment of Theodosius by Gratian, and for Volkert it has been clear that the captain saw this type of restrictive religious policy as a serious problem. Volkert wouldn’t interfere, especially since he himself was a Protestant: to explain the reformation to a bishop of this time, would likely cause him to be accused of heresy. Volkert therefore abstained from any commentary, but had the feeling that Petronius had a very vital interest to know the position of the Germans in this matter.

  Von Klasewitz was a C
atholic, as Volkert knew, and when he finally confessed his sympathy to the Trinitarian cause, Petronius’ eyes lit up. Volkert suppressed any reaction. The remaining ten minutes of their meeting consisted of a presentation of religious beliefs by the priest, to which the first officer reacted fully supportive. Volkert couldn’t interfere, because that would have made things worse, but the behavior of the nobleman would, he was sure, have very unpleasant consequences. Von Klasewitz didn’t seem to recognize the sensitivity of this issue and made flippant remarks, which would cause repercussions for him – and thus Rheinberg. Petronius eventually left with a happy grin on his face.

  And Volkert saw dark clouds rising on the horizon.

  30

  The weather had changed somewhat. The once radiant sky became misty and clouds built up. The few farmers on the way of the marching column stared in amazement not only at the strange travelers but threw appreciative glances at the sky, because the ground was dry.

  It was a little cooler, which made marching pleasant, and the column was progressing well. They had been on the road for quite a while now and Rheinberg could only be grateful for the good street-network, which at this time still characterized the Roman Empire. He knew that the preservation of this network had more and more diminished, because the cities and towns were bled more every year with high taxes, and the gold ended up either in the pockets of corrupt officials or in the financially insatiable machinery of the armed forces who sought to protect the boundaries. Another problem on Rheinberg’s to-do-list, and one of the largest, because it was connected to numerous other difficult issues.

  It was already evening and the light was diminishing faster than usual due to the low hanging clouds; and the silhouette of Sirmium loomed in the distance. Sirmium, in his own time no more than ruins, belonged to the illustrious line of imperial capitals and stood in line with Trier, Milan, Ravenna and Constantinople. Unlike its sister cities this hadn’t brought her a lasting future. Rheinberg had been looking for information in his small library before his departure and learned that city remained of certain importance until the 12th Century as part of the Byzantine Empire, but disappeared after the conquest of the Turks from the history books. This fate was now, in the late summer of 378, still a few hundred years in the future, and currently the town, in which once also Marcus Aurelius had taken residence, presented itself as an extensive and quite sizable urban settlement and a witness of the remaining strength of the Roman Empire.