The Emperor Page 15

  Martinus’s right hand reached over and landed on her thigh, clapping, and immediately began to knead it. Julia stared at the pale sausage fingers on her beautifully tanned skin and wondered how a man could believe he’d excite a woman in such a way. But there was no preventing him from sliding his hand further upwards, probably with the intention of triggering as soon as possible her readiness for the planned reproductive act.

  Julia had to act before it was too late.

  And so it happened that Julia, as Martinus approached her lustfully, clapped twice in her hands.

  Her husband frowned. His eyes wandered around the room, finally resting on the door that opened to clear the way for Julia’s guests.

  Julia, as befitting a self-sacrificing and forward-looking wife, had left no stone unturned to please her husband.

  Julia had ordered fresh meat.

  Martinus Caius almost dropped his eyes out of his head. His gaze blurrily suspended, her stylish and reserved husband, with his eyelids and mouth open, watched the parade of whores entering the room. Julia had an eye for beauty, and she had an eye for rough, provocative vulgarity. She had chosen the right one from the brothels of the city, with exact instructions, and in this work again supported by a certain legionary, who now had to wonder why the gods meant so well to him: He was paid to inspect and recruit naked women.

  That wasn’t a bad occupation.

  The expression on Martinus Caius’ face showed that the effort was worth it. He stared at the swaying breasts of a slightly fuller lady, covered with an extremely thin cloth. Given the fact that the house was quite warm and most of the onlookers had sweat on their skin, the little bit of fabric was barely useful to hide anything. The whore grinned, took a step forward, grabbed Martinus at the back of his head and squeezed his stunned face with force into the magnificence. She held him there for a second before letting go, smiling at him playfully and joining the parade again.

  Martinus Caius gasped. Four women of the horizontal trade had gathered in front of him, all paid in advance, and all pleased with the fact that the evening’s client was a plump, half-drunk man who would hardly manage the first shot. Julia guessed how the evening would end, with a bit of luck and proper manual work, it might not even be necessary to open any thighs. The rest would be done by consuming alcohol.

  Julia thought for a moment whether she should feel sorry for her husband. But then she noticed that he had immediately lost any interest in her after the entry of the four ladies. He paid no attention to his wife, got up, ran to the first of the four ladies and grabbed her butt. Finally, the wine goblet found its way to his mouth again.

  A considerate husband, full of respect and dignity, as Julia thought. She watched the action for a few minutes then yawned and excused herself. Martinus Caius didn’t even notice. He chuckled incessantly, almost brighter than the whores who were already busy bringing the matter to a close without too much engagement. Marcus was truly enchanted.

  Julia retreated to her chambers with a smile.

  She had paid for a whole week.

  24

  “Our return to Rome is absolutely necessary!” Köhler said with a decisive tone, but the way he gestured with his hands already showed that he felt a good deal of helplessness.

  Neumann and the other members of the Roman delegation in Aksum didn’t behave differently. They were all gathered in the audience hall of the Aksumite Emperor Mehadeyis, sitting on the floor in front of the low table, which for once wasn’t covered with food. It was late afternoon, and the men had just returned from their expedition to the highlands, carrying wild coffee, bags full of seeds, two whole plants in their luggage, carefully dug out and transported with their earth. Actually a reason to enjoy, if there were not the bad news from home.

  Strange, Neumann thought, as he stared in silence. He actually called Rome his home. Or did he still only refer to the Saarbrücken, wherever she was currently? They knew that Maximus had won against Gratian, that the young emperor was dead, but what exactly happened after that they hadn’t yet learned. Mehadeyis had sent messengers to get the latest information from the border and from Adulis, as far as they were known there. So far, none of the riders had returned, which made the delegation’s mood even more impatient.

  “But where are you going back to?” the old Emperor asked, gesturing faintly. “Perhaps the part of Rome you are going to return to is now already in the hands of your enemy? You must first know, especially about the fate of the iron ship. Then you know where your steps should take you. Until then, return to Adulis, because from there you can travel the easiest way when the time comes.”

  Neumann nodded slowly. He stared at the empty table, trying to get some order in his mind. However much impatient he was, he needed to understand what he could actually do in this powerful struggle that threatened to rip up the Empire. They didn’t even have a ship. The Valentinian had returned to Ravenna and was possibly even in the hands of the usurper. And to whom had the governor in Egypt or North Africa pledged his allegiance? Would they fall into enemy hands upon return? Should they not rather travel back via Syria? Without knowing how the loyalties were currently distributed, each trip home was a great risk.

  Adulis, however, as he fully agreed with the Aksumite ruler, was a good choice, no matter where their journey would eventually lead them to. If both Syria and Egypt were in the hands of Maximus, they would have to think twice about how they could return to the Saarbrücken. Wherever she was at the moment.

  Neumann knew that his impatience was also growing because he was firmly convinced that the Saarbrücken needed her doctor. All this couldn’t have happened without bloodshed. And what had happened to his new medical academy? He didn’t want to think about it.

  He glanced at Behrens and Köhler, who were sitting side by side, with a brooding air around them like his. They wouldn’t have to worry about their brandy. The basic principles of the construction of a still had spread rapidly in the Empire. Even a state ban wouldn’t have much effect on it. The Pandora’s box had truly opened here, and no one would be able to close it. As far as modern medical knowledge was concerned, it was probably not that easy.

  “Of course, it’s also important to consider what the upheavals in Rome mean in terms of our little trade agreement,” Mehadeyis said slowly, furrowing his brow. “Will an Emperor Maximus be interested in the exploitation of the coffee plant, and will he stick to the regulations we have worked out?”

  The “regulations” were a multilateral trade and cooperation agreement, the first comprehensive economic agreement between Rome and Aksum, which contained so many modern elements that Neumann wondered what role model it would be for international relations of late antiquity. If it ever came into force.

  With a little bit of bad luck, this was nothing more than contract prose on a piece of paper.

  “I’m too confused right now to give a good answer,” Neumann said honestly. He shook his head. “I don’t even remember who I am except a doctor aboard the iron ship.”

  The old Emperor looked at Neumann in silence for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully.

  “I understand. Well, until further notice, I assume that you still represent the legitimate government of the Empire and that the death of Gratian will not necessarily lead to Maximus remaining Emperor. And if it does, we shall be very cautious about Rome.”

  Neumann tried a smile. “Maximus is not an insane Caesar, not an unpredictable booby. He will continue his previous relationship with Aksum. He has enough other worries.”

  “But maybe I see a good chance to change relations with Rome, especially given the opportunities your visit has opened for me,” Mehadeyis said quietly, staring thoughtfully at an imaginary point next to the doctor. “But all of that, of course, is pure speculation. I …”

  A messenger, as one could quickly tell by his dusty clothes and exhausted gaze, entered the hall. The Emperor had ordered that every man who brought news to be allowed before him without any further ado.

>   Neumann’s spirits awoke. News from Rome?

  The Emperor waved the man forward.

  “Sit down, my friend. Drink. Report. You come from where?”

  “From the northern border, my lord.”

  “Speak.”

  “Travelers from Rome report that Maximus controls the west of the Empire more or less completely; at least most governors and prefects have spoken out for him. The East is still undecided, especially since the Magister Militium seems to have fled to Constantinople. In addition, Theodosius has been appointed to succeed Gratian, so there are now two fighting Emperors. Theodosius maintains a large army and is still operating in Italy, but with an uncertain outcome.”

  Neumann jumped up. That sounded bad, but not as bad as feared. If Rheinberg was able to keep the East loyal, it was quite possible that like what happened in the “real” history, in which Theodosius had been Emperor in the East and, after long years of civil war, had brought Maximus to its knees, could happen again. Rheinberg in the East – no doubt with the Saarbrücken! So they had a destination!

  “Go on!” the Aksumite ruler said, ignoring Neumann’s excitement. “What about North Africa?”

  “It looks like the prefect in Alexandria wants to side with Theodosius. The other African provinces are also rumored to follow Theodosius, at least as long as he is still able to lead an army into the field.”

  Neumann exchanged a quick glance with Köhler, then with Africanus. It now became clearer how the situation developed and they had several options open to them. They asked a few more questions, but the messenger didn’t know much more. Finally, he was released and allowed to rest. Then the ruler of Aksum took the floor.

  “You must know where you have to go, Romans,” he said. “But one thing is certain: I’m in your debt, there’s no doubt about that. My life may not be worth much, at least to me, but the Empire may see it differently. And you are also too valuable in hard coin. Your knowledge of the future is impressive. Whatever your decision is, know that you will always find asylum and reception in Aksum, and should things turn bad for yours, come back here and be welcome.”

  Neumann felt a warm emotion rising and nodded gratefully.

  But Mehadeyis was not quite finished yet.

  “But before you leave, let us discuss another course of action, noble friends.”

  Neumann looked at the Emperor quite confused.

  “Another one, Your Majesty?”

  The old man showed his largely toothless grin.

  “I said that I consider adapting my policy to new circumstances.”

  He clapped his hands and avoided the expectant glances of the time-wanderer and his Roman friend.

  “But first we want to eat. I’m hungry.”

  He grinned. “Exciting news stimulates my appetite.”

  Neumann understood he couldn’t press the Emperor when he was in that mood. Resigned to fate, he sat again to watch as the table was prepared.

  No matter what he brought with him from Aksum – friendships, coffee, rich experiences –, one thing was certain: He gained a lot of weight.

  25

  Certainly a touching scene. Rheinberg stood in the background, a goblet of wine in his hand, from which he barely drank. He looked closely, his attention focused on Modestus, the Praetorian Prefect of Constantinople. The old man was relieved and happy, as was his reunited family. The wife of the old politician, about ten years younger than her husband, remained upright, dignified, measured, just like her husband. No violent hugs, no tears, no emotional exuberance. Modestus had briefly laid his hand on her forearm, as von Geeren had brought her toward him, leaning his head toward hers, whispering something in her ear. She had nodded and smiled finely without answering anything herself. She looked exhausted, but relaxed and relieved in a dignified way.

  Modestus himself smiled briefly, and it was the look he gave his wife, who ultimately said everything there was to say. He also greeted the daughter with reserve, and the still rather young woman – at the beginning of her twenties, as Rheinberg estimated – returned her father’s gesture with modesty. When the first encounter was over, Rheinberg found that the liberators as well as the liberated were really hungry and began to forcefully focus on the food that had been served. And he observed that the daughter of Modestus was obviously consciously seeking the side of von Geeren, who seemed to be anything but not pleased. Modestus also noticed this, and he threw Rheinberg a significant look.

  It wasn’t long before Rheinberg, von Geeren and the Prefect were deep in conversation. Around them, an invisible fence formed, because the others present kept a clear distance. The serious faces of the three men signaled that they were conferring on what was now emerging as the next step after the failed blackmailing of Modestus.

  “What about the loyalists of Maximus?” Rheinberg asked. “When it’s widely known that your family has returned safely to you, they’ll know what’s coming for them.” Rheinberg’s assertion centered on the fact that the liberators had secretly returned to the metropolis under cover of night to keep their opponents in the dark for as long as possible.

  “The slaughter in the harbor left quite an impression,” Modestus said. “The loyalists may still have a hard core of 200 men available. Many of the normal legionaries will take orders from anyone who appears legitimate. If we can make it clear that the wind has turned again, I see no problems. The consistorium will join me publicly. The men there are handpicked.” The consistorium was something of a Cabinet of Ministers, headed by Modestus, who, after Valens’ death, had more or less independently taken over the affairs of state in the East.

  “Where do we find these 200 and what do we do with them?” von Geeren asked. “They’ll be suspicious enough.”

  Modestus laughed dryly. “What are we going to do with them? Kill or imprison the lot, what else? Where are getting at? Just to make it clear: In the guard of the palace and among other high officials of the administration, I can give you a good half of the names of those who are loyal to Maximus. The problem is those whose names are unknown to me. As soon as I declare myself openly for Theodosius, they will go underground, disappear, shut up. The danger is that they will re-emerge as spies or active traitors if they think the times are favorable.”

  “There’s always a risk,” Rheinberg said. “We can only take limited account of it. More importantly, we have to be sure what will be our next steps now. I have to lead the army of the East against Maximus, so that the pressure is less on Theodosius in Italy. That is something quite urgent. We were stopped long enough by this unfortunate interlude. I’m very concerned about the situation in Italy.”

  “There’s no news,” Modestus said. “Most of the eastern army is still near Thessaloniki. We’ve recruited since Adrianople, but things are developing only slowly.”

  The Prefect gave Rheinberg a look. He knew what that meant. One of the consequences of his reforms was that soldiers’ children no longer automatically became soldiers themselves, and forced recruitment had also ceased. Instead, the salary was increased, and the minimum service time reduced to ten years, with the option of a bonus after leaving or a further commitment to another ten years. Not only was this taking very slowly, it also caused mistrust, whether this new policy was meant seriously or just a trick of the Empire to get more soldiers.

  It was the latter, of course. But it was an honest trick, if one could say that.

  “How current is your information about the army, Modestus?” Rheinberg asked.

  The Prefect smiled weakly. “I was busy with other things these days. But the best thing to do is to travel directly to Thessaloniki with the Saravica and get an idea of the situation. The troops are commanded by generals who have served under Flavius Victor. To my knowledge, they swore allegiance to Theodosius.” Before Rheinberg could say anything, the Prefect raised his hand. “I know, my lord. Everywhere people are looking for their personal advantage. If you think you can do better with Maximus, you will choose your side based on that considera
tion. Ultimately, however, it depends on the loyalty of the majority of offices, which will at least tear the undecided with it. And there is the fact that iron ship remains in good memory in Thessaloniki. It saved the city from the Goths, with negligible losses among the legionaries who were already badly shaken. This was very important after the disaster of Adrianople. The army of the East is yours, I’m sure.”

  “If so, what did Maximus hope for with that insidious action in Constantinople?” von Geeren asked.

  “To make time, for sure. And preferably your death, which would have stirred up loyalty and allegiances. Take care of Theodosius first, then take care of the East. And one more thing is important: Maximus doesn’t necessarily want to become or remain emperor of all Rome. If he sits firmly in the saddle, I can well imagine that he intends to install a new Emperor of the East, a successor for Valens, with whom the men of the Eastern Army can live well – then things will calm down, finally.”

  Rheinberg nodded grimly to Modestus’ comments. “We don’t want to let it get that far. Don’t get me wrong: I don’t reject the idea of two emperors. It wasn’t introduced at that time by chance. But I would prefer if Theodosius makes such a decision for himself.”

  “Would he do that?” the Prefect asked.

  “I doubt it. Theodosius was also in the time of my past the Emperor of all of Rome. It corresponds to his personality. But many things have been changed by us. I don’t want to try too much being a soothsayer, I can easily be wrong.”

  “You’ll go to Thessaloniki, then?” von Geeren summed up.