The Emperor Page 4

  “Lord, I bring you news from Aksum,” he explained, bowing. Then, without further hesitation, he handed Neumann a rolled-up parchment.

  Neumann nervously opened the scroll, scanned the lines written there, and his expression darkened with each passing second. Then he lowered the parchment and looked at his friends.

  “Bad news?” Köhler said.

  “The uprising of Maximus has begun,” the doctor explained. “He left Britain and moved his troops to Belgium.”

  “Damn, that was faster than expected,” Behrens said. “How old is this message?”

  “How long did it take to reach Aksum? I don’t know. But if there’s been a battle, it’s over, and we’ll soon know who rules the Empire.”

  For a moment there was concerned silence.

  “We have to leave immediately for the Saarbrücken,” Köhler declared firmly.

  Neumann, Africanus and Behrens merely nodded. The Aksumites didn’t say anything. The worry in their guest’s faces was meaningful enough.

  They continued on their way to Aksum in brooding silence.

  6

  From the roof terrace in this part of the imperial palace, one had a beautiful view over Constantinople. Immediately before them, the impressive structure of the Hippodrome rose, which was quiet at dusk. As always, the streets of the city were busy, and the noise reached their ears. Constantinople had not yet grown to its largest population. Although the city authorities prevented the movement of new citizens to the metropolis where it was possible, the city grew steadily. Only the coming plague epidemics would make a negative impact.

  Yes, the plague, Rheinberg remembered. It was also on one list if he remembered correctly. Neumann had once mentioned it. He wouldn’t be pleased that by now; his medical academy was nothing but smoking debris. Rheinberg hoped that Alexandria would join the “real” Emperor, so that the return of the Aksumite expedition was not endangered. But he could do nothing for the men now. As soon as the opportunity arose, he would send one of the steamers to Egypt to check on the travelers.

  Rheinberg estimated that Constantinople had around 300,000 inhabitants at this time and thus undoubtedly belonged to the great urban centers of the Empire. There were cities whose population was estimated larger; the said Alexandria was certainly one of them. Rome itself had already passed the zenith of its settlement density and was on a slow but inevitable descent, ultimately only saved from complete collapse because the Church had established its center there, and the papacy would survive the downfall of Western Rome and …

  Rheinberg paused and smiled. Western Rome wouldn’t fall, at least not as he knew it from his history. He suffered a setback in his plans at the moment, but not all was lost.

  He turned and looked over the roof terrace into the hall, which was directly connected to it. A big banquet was given, and everyone who had a reputation in the city had come. The tiresome series of notables to which Rheinberg had been introduced later in the evening blurred in his memory into an indefinable mass of faces, all polite, one like the other, but scarcely with one he wished to remember. He’d learned to deal with such occasions now, turned his own face into a mask of seemingly polite attention, while thinking of other things behind it. By now, his Latin was good enough to make insignificant phrases come to him automatically, and as far as he could remember, he had performed well that evening.

  He paid a little more attention to the city’s military leaders to find out about the situation in the East. The news had been quite positive: The Goths behaved calmly, it seemed. Rheinberg had sent the young Godegisel home to his people with an important message; however, the man had not been half as grateful for the job as the German had expected – as if compelling him to miss something important. But he was gone, very obediently. Rheinberg began to employ the man’s services despite his past. He would keep an eye on him.

  The army of the East was still to be reformed. The majority of the troops camped near Thessaloniki. Finding new recruits proved problematic, now that Rheinberg had severely restricted the practice of forced recruitment. The next step would be to free the slaves, grant them all citizenship and, at the same time, the right to join the legions. But there were considerable reservations about this step from various quarters. Rheinberg was therefore currently assuming that he would not succeed in the short winter months to gather more than 25,000 men to be lead to the West. He could only hope that Theodosius, with about the same number of legionaries, could run away from Maximus for such a long time – and become terribly annoying – in order to assure that their combined force would be enough to defeat the usurper.

  Rheinberg looked at the partying crowd and once again felt the available time melt between his fingers. He felt a need to do something, a desire that most of the people in the hall didn’t seem to share. Tomorrow, the big races in the Hippodrome would commence, Rheinberg remembered, and then they would get to work. Finally! Rheinberg clenched his hands into fists. He hated this form of inaction when there was so much to do.

  “Magister Militium!”

  Before him stood the Praetorian Prefect Modestus, in his company man, younger than him in comparison, but also already in more mature years. He bowed to Rheinberg, who gave him a friendly nod. The endless chain of introductions had not ended.

  “This is my good friend Sixtus, the director of the Hippodrome. He will delight us tomorrow with very exquisite racing ideas. Sixtus, the Magister Militium.”

  “It’s a great honor for me to meet you,” the man said with a deep baritone. “I’m looking forward to organizing an exquisite performance for you and your men.”

  “The Hippodrome of Constantinople was famed even in my time,” Rheinberg replied truthfully.

  “We are very proud of it,” Sixtus said happily. “There will be some chariot races of our best men. I …” He hesitated. “Since you’ve mentioned it yourself … how long will the Hippodrome stand, and how did it gain that fame that will make it known even in many hundreds of years?”

  Rheinberg raised his eyebrows. This man was the first and only person to ask him a question that went beyond the current military and political situation or was not just uttering a polite phrase.

  “Is there still the Hippodrome in your future?” Sixtus asked, before Rheinberg could come up with an answer.

  He shook his head. “It’s a big open place today.”

  “It was destroyed in a war?”

  Rheinberg shook his head. “It has something to do with a war, but the Hippodrome was never really affected. There were some great campaigns that took the city badly. The fourth of these campaigns weakened the city the most, and the Hippodrome was simply not used anymore. It fell apart. There is only a small remnant of ruins in my time.”

  Sixtus looked a little sad.

  Rheinberg put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s far in the future, and it may not happen now. In the centuries immediately following today, the Hippodrome became the social and political center of the city, and indeed of the Empire, for the various groups of charioteers formed associations that gained political power and were even capable of overthrowing emperors.”

  This, in turn, didn’t seem to please Modestus much.

  Rheinberg smiled. “That, too, may be prevented in our time, Prefect,” he added placidly.

  “The supporters for the various charioteers already exist,” Sixtus emphasized. “You’ll notice it tomorrow in the race, my lord. The best men will compete in your honor, and you will see that the emotions boil, joy and disappointment are close together, and the city guards will have their hands full restraining angry losers.”

  Rheinberg nodded. He had expected nothing else. As far as he knew, it was only the Turks who had completely stopped this kind of sporting amusement after the conquest of Byzantium – not even out of malicious intent but primarily out of marked disinterest.

  Rheinberg looked forward to tomorrow’s spectacle with mixed feelings. He was glad that the old gladiator games and the senseless slaughter of wild an
imals and punished slaves had become very uncommon by now. But these chariot races had their own brutality. Many a brave charioteer left the races crippled or even dead, under the loud cheers of the supporters of the other side.

  But it was actually a civilizational progress, whether you wanted to accept it or not. And the charioteers were all volunteers, unlike many – but not all – of the old gladiators.

  Rheinberg chatted for a while with Sixtus, who turned out to be a pleasant and educated conversation partner. Then, after a few more polite words to various guests, he apologized with reference to the strains of his long journey and let himself be led into the rooms prepared for him.

  As the doors closed behind him and he tiredly took off his clothes and move toward the bath room – this tract, for the highest state guests, of course had a private bath, which was available for Rheinberg alone –, he found Aurelia at the flickering fire of the fireplace lit for the night. She did not look like she was interested in a shared bathroom.

  In fact, she seemed very tense.

  When Rheinberg entered, she almost jumped up. She took a few quick steps toward him, casting searching looks left and right as if to make sure he was alone. Rheinberg had expressly waived all servants and slaves. He wanted his peace, and he could still take off his clothes by himself.

  In fact, he had hoped Aurelia would help.

  But she obviously had something entirely else in mind. “Jan, we have to leave, and fast!”

  Rheinberg had not been able to make any extensive experiences with women in his life. His stern father had always made sure that he learned diligently, and therefore idleness was nothing he would ever have been used to. As a junior cadet, the demands of the service had him fully under control. He almost would have remained a virgin for many years if there hadn’t been a celebration with his comrades in an inn of limited reputation, whose precise events he could only vaguely remember. But he’d never had a girlfriend, if only because he didn’t like being in an unformalized relationship anyway.

  Therefore, Rheinberg was still uncertain how he had to deal with the difficult-to-understand mood swings of a woman. So far, he had taken a defensive attitude, because he was on the one hand terribly in love and on the other every private dispute cost him energy that he just didn’t have anymore. Although his father would certainly have disagreed, Rheinberg didn’t see himself as a “pater familiae” with absolute power over all family members, and above all not over his wife. Strangely enough that he already considered Aurelia in his mind as such, although he hadn’t asked her for her hand. That was certainly related to the uncertainty already mentioned.

  Rheinberg sighed, put on a smile and vowed to choose his words with care. Aurelia was worried with something that she really had on her mind, and Rheinberg took care to assume that she had only the intention to complain about the limited choice of evening wear. She was happy to pay attention to her appearance but had never asked fatal questions. Rheinberg’s biggest fear – “Darling, do I look fat in this dress?” – in view of the slender, even muscular stature of his beloved wouldn’t be a danger in the foreseeable future anyway, he was sure of that.

  “What is it, my dearest?”

  Aurelia looked at Rheinberg, and he sensed that he was currently in a losing position using flattering words. So he kept quiet and waited. His girlfriend looked serious. Rheinberg began to worry a little bit.

  “I talked to some of the slaves,” she said. “First of all, they took me to the slave shelters. Apparently, my role in your entourage has been misinterpreted.”

  Aurelia said that without reproach, so Rheinberg decided to be outraged later. He had a sometimes painfully pragmatic lover, he told himself, not without pride. But more was to come.

  “The slaves there talked to me,” she said, “and they had a warning, a serious one. Accordingly, there are preparations to have all of us arrested – on behalf of Maximus.” Aurelia spoke in deep earnestness, and her gaze revealed that she believed in what she had just said.

  Rheinberg stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded. Could he be so simpleminded? There had not been the slightest hint that Modestus and the other members of the consistory had sided with the usurper. Nobody – no one – really had ever caused such a suspicion. And what Aurelia had heard could very well be the conspiratorial chatter of domestics, who had nothing to do but to move their mouths over the intrigues of the powerful.

  The doubt was written Rheinberg in the face. Aurelia had obviously expected nothing else. “You don’t believe me because it’s the talk of slaves.”

  The young man raised his hands defensively. He was more inclined to believe that he lacked the necessary professional paranoia of a Roman politician to take such rumors at face value. But he didn’t say that aloud because Aurelia would have agreed with him immediately. “My doubt has nothing to do with the status of your sources as slaves,” he said. “But even in my day, when slavery has not been in existence anymore for a long time, everyone knew that everything going around as a rumor in the kitchens, basements, and chambers, turned out to be wrong, or at least half-true, in retrospect. Of course there will be some among the higher officials of the palace who wouldn’t have a problem with Maximus, and maybe they have given vent to this view on occasion. That was expectable. Nevertheless, no one is going to pre-emptively arrest us all and break the neck of the resistance against Maximus, that is…”

  “A great opportunity to end the conflict, or at least radically shorten it, without war and further bloodshed,” Aurelia added dryly. “I’m not a fool, Jan! I grew up among educated people and learned a lot myself. I was the tool of those who seek your life! I know how they think and how they work. You don’t believe me? Good. But keep the thought in mind. And as far as I can, I’ll keep listening and observing.”

  Rheinberg nodded slowly. The fact that Aurelia didn’t get upset, but instead argued rationally and thoughtfully, gave him more to think as if she had been greatly enraged by his lack of insight. Yet he was reluctant to believe her words. Rome couldn’t be so evil. There had to be respectable, honest, trustworthy people somewhere! If not, it might not be so terrible if this state would be swept away by the Huns. Why defend the Empire, if only it turned out to be a corrupt swamp of greed for power and a permanent pursuit of personal gain? No, Rheinberg wasn’t ready to go that way yet; it was a path that would lead him, he knew, to a spiritual abyss, straight into the sinister cynicism on which he didn’t want to build his life.

  “And prepare myself, Jan. Take care as well. Do not let the beautiful light dazzle you. Be armed. And your people too. I’ve already reported it to von Geeren, and Dahms knows as well.”

  Aurelia had been diligent, and Rheinberg was not sure if he liked it so much. He frowned. “How did they react?”

  Aurelia smiled bleakly. She showed that she had done her utmost and had no intention of begging or pleading. She sat on a stool in front of the mirror, took out a hairbrush, and began to groom her hair with supple, practiced movements. She looked at him out of the mirror, a little sympathetic, a little resigned, but above all visibly tired. “Like you, Jan. Like real fools do.”

  7

  Astypalaia was less than a city, whatever Julia wished. The largest settlement on the Greek island of Kos was a glorified village, and this village was essentially about two things – its great history and wine. Julia hardly cared about the history, because the mere fact that the great Hippocrates had once directed his medical school here might have been an interesting anecdote, but that was many hundreds of years ago. The once so respected school no longer existed, and the best doctors came, everyone knew that, from Gaul or from the new academy of Magister Neumann, should it still exist.

  The wine was a slightly different topic, as the vines and the many references to wine exporting throughout the city reminded of her husband, Martinus Caius, both of his overbearing love for the drink and the fact that Caius was still in Ravenna to pay attention to the possessions of the family together with his father
. Julia had fled alone in front of the approaching troops of Maximus, on a ship of her father-in-law’s family, along with the whole household and her daughter. Here on Kos, the elder Caius had some vineyards and a large estate on which Julia had now found shelter; it was managed by a trusted relative. The fact that she was separated from her unloved husband had markedly improved her mood, except that she wasn’t allowed to show it too clearly.

  Julia had no objection to the Greek islands. The estate was beautifully located and had simple but adequate facilities. Astypalaia was only a few miles away and offered a small theater in addition to the obligatory market. If her true husband had been here by her side, Julia could have come to terms with being the lady of this tranquil part of the Empire. Here one was less in danger of being driven out of the home by troops of any potentates. Of course, the province of Asia, which included Kos, would sooner or later declare itself for a side, but ultimately the islands wouldn’t play a great military role. One would join the victor, and this would leave the islands in peace – because who likes to turn off the taps of the Empire? Even power-hungry rogues liked to drink their wine.

  Otherwise, it was terribly boring here, and for this reason, Julia also thought to leave as soon as possible. The highest male representative of her new family was a distant cousin of her husband, who ran the possessions. A young man, still very inexperienced and dependent on the advice of his staff that had worked there for many years. He was not as unbearable in character as Julia’s husband, but beyond the necessary minimum of politeness, he didn’t care much for his guest. He did his duty, and as long as Julia left him alone, he seemed content to give her whatever freedom she demanded. Julia intended to use this obvious carelessness to the best of her ability.

  Such an opportunity might never come again.