The Emperor Read online

  Gaudentius leaned back.

  “Our suggestion is to lure Theodosius to Hadrumentum. There is a good opportunity for his ships to land the troops. We will welcome him accordingly and feed the men well. Everything should look perfect, and we want Theodosius to feel completely safe. Then you, noble Augustus, land an army of considerable size further west, in Hippo Regius. Meanwhile, we’ll gather our own units south of Hadrumentum and promise Theodosius to march with his own against your army. He will consent, because he will have great superiority this way. But during the battle we change sides, surprise Theodosius, and beat him thoroughly.”

  “It’ll take some time to prepare for this,” Maximus guessed. “But we should succeed this summer. We have to give him time to complete his ships and leave. Then he should regard himself for a few weeks to be safe. You also need time to pull your troops together. Theodosius will understand that. In late summer, I will land a modest army, and we will do as you planned.”

  Gaudentius nodded. “That’s how we want to proceed. The exact plans we are ready to discuss with Andragathius. The important thing is that you continue to put pressure on Italy, but at the same time not come too close. He mustn’t become suspicious.”

  Distrust, Maximus thought to himself as he gazed musingly into his wine, was indeed the important word in this setup. As much as the promise of Gaudentius and his colleagues pleased him, and as auspicious as the Comes’ plan sounded, how could he be sure that he wasn’t himself the deceived rather than Theodosius? It was necessary, before dealing with the details, to guarantee the assurance through some insurance, and he wasn’t quite sure how Gaudentius would respond to his Emperor’s request.

  Because it could hardly be regarded as a vote of confidence.

  He chose his words.

  “I’m really happy about your idea and the plan. The loyalty you prove will be properly rewarded when all of this is over.”

  Gaudentius lowered his head gratefully. He was considered as relatively uncorrupt, so it wasn’t even likely that he would seek special rewards, except perhaps for a few more years to administer the breadbasket of Rome.

  “Nevertheless, you have to understand my situation. A man of greater suspicion might come up with the idea that this is a skillful move by the followers of Theodosius to lure stupid Maximus into a well-prepared trap – and not the other way round.”

  If the Comes was shocked by the indirect charges, he didn’t show it. In fact, there was not the slightest sign of surprise on his face. He only nodded and continued to listen.

  “I’m therefore obliged to consider how to take appropriate precautions to prevent the unlikely event of betrayal,” Maximus said.

  Again, his counterpart seemed neither excited nor angry. Gaudentius waited for a moment as to whether the Emperor intended to add anything else, and when it became clear that it was up to him to speak, he immediately took that opportunity. “Augustus, I can understand your arguments well. In fact, we anticipated this reaction in our planning. Betrayal is a common practice in civil wars, and we must not forget that also the time-wanderers have clever minds among them. Theodosius has intelligent and capable officers and counselors at his side. It is only fair to seriously consider the possibility of a trap.”

  “I’m glad you saw that,” Maximus replied, meaning it. “And since you planned those things together and foresaw this problem, maybe you came up with a solution?”

  Gaudentius nodded. “All governors of Rome in the African provinces have family, sir. I have two well-to-do sons, the pride of my wife and myself. The other men too have descendants of intelligence, talent, and, in the case of daughters, great charm.” He cleared his throat. “We ask you to take our children as a pledge for our honorable intentions. We can send them secretly to Rome or Ravenna and put them under your care. If you have such hostages, it should be an assurance that we all will do what we swore to and nothing else.”

  Maximus nodded. Gaudentius had suggested the obvious and what he himself had in mind.

  “Your wives should accompany the children,” he said firmly. “So that they are looked after and have a familiar face around them.”

  What he meant was clear. The value of the hostages would again increase considerably if the spouses also placed their wives under the watch of Maximus.

  Gaudentius had certainly understood it that way. And his face showed that he was, again, not surprised by the Emperor’s demand. He bowed his head. “That’s the way it should be done and as soon as possible.”

  Maximus smiled. “I thank you very much, I’m happy to say. I vow the following: Your families should be fine. If the plan works the way we agree, and the victory is mine, they will be sent back immediately. But if we lose – without betrayal, only because the enemy proves to be stronger –, then they too should all be set free as well. Either way, yours are safe as long as you show your loyalty.”

  Gaudentius nodded again. “Then it is so decided.”

  Maximus smiled more widely. He felt the tension drop off him. He poured wine for his guest, considered the next step. There was a lot to plan.

  The door opened. A soldier of the Emperor’s bodyguard entered. He looked a bit pale, Maximus thought, and that alarmed him. The men responsible for his personal safety usually couldn’t be shaken by much.

  “What is it?”

  “Sir, a message.”

  “Tell me.”

  The legionary glanced at Gaudentius, but Maximus made an imperious gesture.

  “Speak!”

  The man looked down. “Lord, the Magister Militium has fallen.”

  Maximus stared at him. He sat down heavily, the wine decanter still in his hand. For a few seconds he remained like this, trying to process what he had heard without losing his composure.

  Andragathius, he thought. O God, Andragathius.

  He looked at the legionary. “How did it happen?”

  “We don’t know exactly, sir. But the men of Theodosius have delivered his body to one of our advance divisions. There is no doubt.”

  No doubt echoed in the head of Maximus.

  He dismissed the soldier with a faint gesture.

  Silence returned.

  “Lord, shall I …” Gaudentius began.

  “No. No. It is good. Many good friends will die before all this is done.” Maximus’s voice sounded a little hoarse. He felt the need for wine.

  More wine.

  Much more.

  30

  Three did escape.

  Rheinberg thought for a moment as he watched Joergensen’s quiet command, as he cleared the Saarbrücken from the wharf. He glanced over to port and could make out the three steamships that were already leaving the pier and knocking small, white clouds into the air. The bronze steam engines pushed the new ships out onto the open sea. They were fully provisioned and fully staffed. In addition to the crew and family members who hadn’t been reluctant to await further events in Constantinople – slightly less than half, after all –, a detachment of 250 legionaries had also been taken on board to reinforce the army that hopefully would be in Thessaloniki waiting for them.

  The Saarbrücken slowly turned into the harbor basin. There were no signs of the heavy fighting. The wrecks had been salvaged as far as possible. No bloated dead bodies drifted around. The devastation in the harbor hadn’t been repaired so quickly, though. For a while, it would be seen as a reminder to what kind of superiority the weapons of the future actually constituted.

  Three of the men on the list of Modestus had escaped them, reportedly recognizing the signs of the times and leaving the city quickly. The others – whose name the Prefect didn’t even know – had followed the same path. However, some officials in the city had inexplicably disappeared, which had them added to Modestus’ list, but without consequences at this stage of events.

  That was not his problem anymore, at least not immediately. It was absolutely inevitable that Maximus would learn of the failure of his plans in Constantinople, and now this would probably h
appen a little sooner than later.

  The cruiser shuddered as Joergensen ordered slow speed ahead. Everything in Rheinberg longed to give orders again and to take full control of the old lady. But he had come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t much more than a high-ranking guest on the Saarbrücken, commander-in-chief of all units, but no longer directly responsible for the operations of the ship, its navigation, even its own way of fighting. He now understood why many generals and admirals tended to look back on their careers in a very nostalgic way and tried to bring the past back to life through more and more troop visits. And there were enough who tried to prevent any promotion beyond rank of a captain, so as not to get into a position that Rheinberg now held.

  He really understood it well. He felt too young to be a General.

  Everywhere was completely calm as the cruiser left Constantinople. Rheinberg watched in silence as the ship made its way into the open sea then headed for Thessaloniki. If the weather stayed that way and there were no other problems, the small flotilla was about to reach the city within a few days. Rheinberg dreaded what he could expect there.

  He felt a presence beside him and turned away from the sight of the sea. Dahms had joined him, sharing his meditative gaze on the calm waves and not indicating how he felt. However, Rheinberg knew the engineer well enough to know that he only left his little kingdom in the steel belly of the Saarbrücken when he had something on his mind.

  Rheinberg waved to him. One of the privileges he enjoyed was that he continued to claim the captain’s cabin aboard the cruiser. There he lived with Aurelia in cramped but private circumstances, aware of the disrespectful-friendly comments of his crew members. The ship was full of women and a few children, as were the steamers. The four vehicles were veritably overloaded. But Rheinberg had insisted that everyone was taken along who wanted to be. It was about morality, commitment, hope, familiarity and comfort – and that was, as he liked to admit, not only important for his men here and those on the steamers, but also for him.

  Dahms and Rheinberg walked into the interior of the cruiser. The captain’s cabin was not far from the bridge. As they entered, Aurelia looked up from her work: She sat at the table and wrote. For some time now she kept an accurate diary, and Rheinberg felt that if they outlived these stormy times, those records would be of great interest in the distant future. He hadn’t been allowed to look into her notes and wondered how he’d live up in her representation of events. He was well acquainted with Aurelia’s sharp tongue, as well as her keen intelligence, and he suspected that he wouldn’t always enjoy the reading her diary.

  When she recognized the two visitors, Aurelia got up, gathered up her writing utensils and vacated the table. Moments later, she had disappeared from the cabin.

  Dahms gave her a grinning look. “Captured a nice one, Jan,” he said while sitting down.

  “Who has captured whom here is still to be debated,” Rheinberg replied, glancing regretfully for a moment at the small shelf in which stood the – empty – metal can, where, once upon a time, had been coffee.

  “She’s good for you,” the engineer said, trying to stretch his legs without bumping into his comrade. “You are a bit more balanced. She robs you of your excess energy.” He blinked ambiguously, and Rheinberg tried to ignore it.

  “And what about you, Johann?” he asked a shade more seriously. He could afford to touch on the subject, though he knew just how much Dahms missed his family in the forever unattainable future. The engineer shrugged his shoulders without being too disparaging.

  “I don’t have time for this,” he finally muttered. “I have enough to do to maintain the old lady. Jan, the mussel infestation of our hull worries me. When the war started, we didn’t have time to try our elaborately dug new dry dock. We have now sent down some of our best divers to do some scraping, but that’s not enough. We have to treat the whole hull, otherwise it will rust away. Above all, we need a completely new coat of paint. We have enough paint in store, only the opportunity is missing.”

  Rheinberg nodded. “I know. You’ve probably already discussed this with Joergensen.”

  “The good Captain thinks he has to play taxi for the Magister Militium all the time, so he has little patience for my requests.”

  Rheinberg grinned weakly. “And he’s right about that too.” He shrugged. “The dry dock is in Italy. Once we have defeated Maximus, we can take care of it. Until then, we have to improvise.” He looked at Dahms inquiringly. “But that’s not why you want to talk to me, am I right?”

  “You are.” The engineer sighed and looked thoughtfully through the big porthole for a moment. It showed the sunny Mediterranean Sea. Forward one of the steamers was visible, fuming with full power through the waves. For the Saarbrücken, this was no more than a small trip, but it was the slow bronze engines that made it a lengthy one. Dahms wasn’t angry about that. It did a lot to save the machines and preserve the precious stock of coal. If they had to switch to charcoal, the radius of action and performance of the expansion machines would be radically reduced. The engineer wanted to delay this as long as possible. “It’s about the handbook, Jan.”

  “A manual?”

  Dahms leaned forward. “Yes. Together with my colleagues, I have compiled a detailed manual so that we can write down the design of our technical innovations in detail. A construction manual, if you like, with really detailed drawings, step by step, all dimensions and materials. Naturally, it is all about the construction of the steam engine for the new ships. We made three copies of this manual so that it could be used by the various factory masters who worked with me.” He took a breath. “Only now did I have the opportunity – in recent days – to convince myself of the completeness of the documents that we took from Ravenna. The order was either to take everything along or destroy it. We were pretty thorough, I mean. But … I only found two manuals.”

  Rheinberg raised his eyebrows. “You investigated it properly?”

  “One of the factory masters probably forgot his. It was locked in a metal box in his workspace. The hall itself was set on fire by us. With luck, the box has been buried under all the rubble, and we will never see it again. On the other hand, there is a possibility …”

  “… that it survived the fire and with her the manual – which could fall into the hands of Maximus.”

  “And von Klasewitz, who will be able to use it most effectively,” Dahms said bleakly.

  “What else is in your records besides the plans for the steam engine?”

  Dahms made an unhappy face. “Our previous efforts for a really big puddle oven have been documented. Weapon projects, especially the arquebus and steam catapults. The design drawings for the steamers as a whole. Then some plans for civilian buildings, the distillery of Behrens and Köhler, and incidentally, my first draft for a coffee roasting factory.” Involuntarily, his eyes fell as well on the small shelf with the empty box. And both remembered that they had an expedition going on in Africa that they hadn’t heard of for a long time and that hopefully had enough information to do the right thing on its return. Whatever that would be in the context.

  Rheinberg sighed.

  “We cannot change it,” he said at last. “If the enemies get the records, that’s just how it is. Militarily, it will not fundamentally change anything; the traitor’s cannons are more advanced than anything we’ve put to the field. The construction documents of the steam engine we have already begun to distribute freely, because we want it to be recreated, even for economic reasons. The problem will be more eminent if this war is dragging on longer and Maximus succeeds in rebuilding the industrial base faster than we can. But in the end it’s like this: If the Saarbrücken can operate, nothing will affect us for the foreseeable future, whatever Maximus and von Klasewitz develop and build.”

  “This war won’t be decided at sea but on land,” Dahms reminded him.

  “This is true. That’s why I leave you and your factory masters in Thessaloniki. You should start there with the constru
ction of a workshop. It won’t do any good to let the rest of your work wait for Maximus to be defeated. The Saarbrücken also will remain in the city and will not be used again until it effectively attacks a port city or we need her for transport. I feel like it won’t be so soon. Until then, I will lead the war on land as planned.”

  Dahms didn’t show if he was in agreement with this decision. He nodded thoughtfully before adding: “The question is, do we actually have all the information we need to make proper decisions about these strategic aspects? What has happened in Italy? Can Theodosius sustain the enemy’s pressure? We’re pretty much poking in the dark.”

  Rheinberg shrugged. “Maybe we’ll learn something new in Thessaloniki. But when we parted, it was clear from the outset that we were doing two independent operations. Theodosius has to make his own decisions, even if some developments might surprise us in the end.” He sighed again.

  Dahms thought he looked very tired. This tiredness had little to do with lack of sleep, but a lot with …

  With everything.

  They then said nothing for a while and looked at the deceptively peaceful waves of the Mediterranean.

  Somehow they had imagined things to develop differently.

  31

  The day Julia murdered her husband began relatively harmlessly.

  Martinus Caius had spent the night with distractions that his wife had discreetly organized. He had gone to bed late or early, depending on his point of view, and had woken up at lunchtime, with bad breath, a hangover, and in a quite horrible mood. This was not well planned, because in the early afternoon high-ranking guests would visit the family estate. A big reception had already been prepared the day before with hectic bustle, and the work was resumed at sunrise. Expected were the island’s highest notables, senior officers, landowners and merchants. Among them were some very important business partners of both the father of Martinus and his relatives, and it was absolutely necessary to show oneself from the very best side. Everyone saw the drunkard as his father’s successor, and although the news of his excesses was slowly circulating – whores were not known to be too secretive –, men considered these to be largely a trivial offense. He represented money and power. Both were aspects that helped many to studiously ignore minor flaws.