The Emperor's Men: Emperor

by Dirk van den Boom

  Lucius Verilius didn’t leave his side. The Centurion continued to be responsible for the safety of the infantry, as he had been in the Battle of Bagacum. His legionaries were to ward off sneaky attacks and at least buy the Germans time to reorient themselves. Verilius’ men had suffered heavy losses at Bagacum, but his troops had been rebuilt immediately. The Centurion knew the hard task ahead of him, and he did everything he could to increase his men’s chances. He gave advice where he saw fit and was not afraid to ride in the parade of von Geeren if he thought he was wrong. The installation of a mound here, the positioning of a sniper there – Verilius had now developed a deep understanding of the possibilities of rifles and didn’t keep his opinion for himself. Von Geeren allowed him to do so. And he found that initial reservations of his men against the Centurion’s harsh suggestions were beginning to fade. That was good, because the time-wanderers wouldn’t be able to maintain their particular structure of command forever. At some point, they would be completely absorbed in the Roman forces, mingling with them, and there would be Roman officers giving orders. The more the Germans got used to such a constellation, the easier it would be for them to adapt to this future integration. Of course, there were reservations – or rather prejudices. Von Geeren himself fell for one or the other. But it was men like Verilius with their pragmatic professionalism that made them more and more irrelevant.

  “Tribune von Geeren, this wall is shit!” The Centurion pointed to a part of the fort that the infantrymen were working on. Of course, it was remarks like these that, on the other hand, that led to the German to take a deep breath and fight a bit for composure. A little bit only.

  “What are your suggestions for improvement?”

  This was followed by a lengthy lecture, which proved, among other things, that the Roman legionaries had much more experience in producing ramparts, walls and ditches out of nowhere than the German soldiers. Von Geeren endured the flood of good advice with stoic serenity. His men had already stopped working upon hearing the word “shit,” and looked expectantly at the Captain.

  Once Verilius had finished, Geeren took a deep breath, forced a smile, and nodded. “That’s how we do it, Centurion!”

  He ignored the groans of his men. It may have been that he had given them extra work and injured pride. But if that did increase their chances of survival in the coming battle, he was ready to accept those injuries.

  Von Geeren nodded to the men and moved to another part of the position they were currently preparing. Here, a position with three MG was set up. First, they had considered distributing the MGs widely, but then decided against it. The effort to protect the nests was too great and would stretch their forces too much, which increased the risk of losing the shooter. By concentrating the guns, they could increase the firepower as well as provide better for the safety of the men. The range of the machine guns was so great that they could spread the entire battlefield. Their biggest problem was, as with all other firearms, the remaining ammunition.

  Von Geeren had made a complete arms inspection a few days ago. All rifles, pistols and machine guns were in excellent condition. The soldiers had the weapons well maintained, knowing that there were no spare parts and they were fully responsible for the functionality of their tools. Von Geeren had hardly anything to complain about. But the disillusionment had been great when it came to measuring the ammunition. For the approximately 100 still active infantrymen were only 40 cartridges available, the MGs were still able to fall back on about 2,000 rounds, which at their rate of fire, however, was not particularly comfortable. The handguns of the officers were also only partially operational. Consequently, von Geeren had warned everyone to shoot only when the target was clear and worthwhile to attack. Every shot had to find its victim. The MGs especially had to concentrate on short bursts of fire, used tactically.

  All infantrymen also had been equipped with swords. Legionaries of Verilius had taught them to use the weapon in every free minute. Von Geeren had also participated in the exercises and realized that he was untalented for this type of combat. He had learned how to fight, but that was quite different from the work with the blade they had to learn here. The Roman short sword was essentially a thrust weapon, and the long sword was swung savagely, less used for a real fencing duel. His officer’s saber had remained on the Saarbrücken. It was a fully functional weapon, but at the same time a piece of high symbolic power and nothing he wanted to break or damage in combat.

  Soon, the day would come when their firearms became useless. If Dahms could organize his small industrial revolution, it would be a temporary state. Either he would be able to make new ammunition or replace the rifles of the infantrymen with muskets. He would definitely be able to conjure something in that direction, with time and peace and a safe place where all the resources were available to him.

  Von Geeren shook his head slightly.

  Here, he stood to command in a fight that would lead to creating conditions so that he could continue to win battles in the future. It wasn’t surprising that at the moment he was thinking of a young woman, daughter of Prefect Modestus, who resided in Constantinople and who had never left his mind since her liberation. He had decided to return to the capital of the East, and he wanted to survive this fight to put this intention into action. Well, at least that was one motivation he could make friends with. He looked for rest, and he was not the only one. Once the victory was achieved and Maximus was dealt with, some of the infantrymen would make their escape, and he and Rheinberg were well aware of that. The desertion of Ensign Volkert, who now served as Tribune Thomasius and didn’t yet know that he had long since been forgiven – Rheinberg and Dahms had only recently told about their discovery to von Geeren –, was only the beginning.

  Also a form of integration into the Roman Empire, von Geeren thought, and he caught himself shaking his head again.

  So, just this one more battle.

  And who knew, maybe he would afterwards belong to those who settled down. Nobody would blame him. Constantinople was an exciting city. Von Geeren was a practical man and had learned other skills besides warfare. He would find a living. For a change, not travel slaughtering through the countryside or participating in too many endless planning sessions – that was a very pleasant alternative.

  “Captain, you had asked for me?”

  “Ah, Sassmann.”

  Von Geeren waved the man over. Sassmann was always in a pleasant mood, had excelled himself in the liberation of Modestus’ family and kept himself in good memory with his superior. With Sassmann, it was quite evident – Everyone knew that the man wanted to leave the army. He was a good soldier, but maybe just too good. To Rheinberg, von Geeren had suggested that one might give Sassmann another position in the service of the Empire and then have someone who could teach the legionaries how to handle firearms once they produced them.

  The Captain had promised to think about it. The conversation with the sniper, with which he would’ve been able to find out what his preference was, hadn’t yet taken place. There would not be much time left after the battle to do that; von Geeren felt it.

  “I thought of a special role for you in the coming battle. Not easy, but tailored to your abilities,” Geeren said quietly, pulling the man aside, slightly out of earshot of the other soldiers.

  Sassmann’s face remained unmoved. He knew what he could do and what kind of assignment he could expect. “I’m ready,” he said.

  “You will not dig ditches, Sassmann,” von Geeren continued. “Actually, you’re not going to be used in that position.” He grabbed the man by the arm and walked with him away from the others, his head tilted to one side, and explained in detail what kind of plans he had for the sniper.

  It was a long conversation.

  23

  “After all, it’s not a new order we want to create,” Maximus explained, giving Ambrosius a friendly nod. The Bishop of Milan had traveled as far as Hippo Regius, but now he wanted to leave and return to Italy. A final dinner together
with the Emperor had been arranged in his honor, in a small circle. Petronius, who would remain with the Emperor along with three other priests, participated as well as some officers and advisers. The Magister Militium on the other hand had apologized for coordinating tomorrow’s departure of the troops to Mactaris. Maximus almost envied the man for this task. It was tedious at times to listen to the Bishop’s lectures, especially when they became more radical and demanding with each new conversation.

  “No new order?” Ambrosius shook his head, smiling gently. “But, sire, that’s exactly what we want to achieve. The unity of Church and Empire is exactly that – a new order! It is the order that prepares the return of Christ on earth, which will prepare humanity for him and welcome him. It is the eternal kingdom that governs the world in the name of the Lord, and points out to those who are not of the true faith the error of their ways and cleanse where necessary.”

  “I have no problem getting rid of the old cults and putting the Arians in their place,” Maximus replied, frowning at the Bishop. “But I won’t start, just because of my faith as a Christian Trinitarian Emperor, an attack against the Persians or to do more against the Huns than to defend myself as effectively as possible.”

  Ambrosius nodded. “That’s hard to imagine right now. We lack the military means of power. But for that we have our new Magister, and as soon as Rheinberg is dead, the technology of the time-wanderers, which we can use under appropriate spiritual supervision, to solve this problem. Then Persians and Huns won’t be an obstacle any longer. And until then there are still enough other areas to tackle. You have quite rightly mentioned the Arians and the ancient cults but also point to the Jews. They also have to be severely punished. Here, too, I see a good chance for forced conversions.”

  Maximus closed his eyes. “Why should we worry about Palestine now? I’m glad that those wild people, for once, are docile!”

  “Docile? They are the murderers of our Lord! With a crooked faith that thinks to be better and more original than ours! They consider themselves the chosen people! Absurd! Only those of us who have accepted Jesus as their Savior are chosen. But the Jews killed him in cold blood!”

  “Well,” one of the officers said who had been listening to the argument in silence, “if I remember the records properly, nobody was murdered. The governor carried out a sentence because Jesus violated Roman law, which was then in force …”

  “Silly!” Ambrosius said. “It was the Jews who drove Pilatus to do it with their resentment and their envy!”

  Maximus raised both hands. “I think this discussion will not take us any further!”

  “But yes!” the Bishop demanded, looking very agitated now. “We nourish the Jews in our midst, on our breasts, they enjoy Roman civilization and security, and yet they are nothing but murderers! God wants to punish them, and we – we alone – are his tools!”

  Maximus made a reassuring gesture. “I can’t wage war against any ethnic group within the Empire. The Empire must have peace. Our situation is precarious enough so that I can’t provoke another civil war! We should turn to more important questions.”

  “But that’s important!”

  “Noble Bishop …”

  “We have to make every effort to reconcile the purity of faith with the purity of imperial power! Both must go hand in hand, must be the same hand that carries the common sword, that of the word of Christ and the Lord’s holy wrath! Only this unity will ensure that the right faith prevails and we will find salvation! This is no small matter! It’s all about one thing – the salvation of all of us.” Ambrosius’ voice dropped, took on a pleading undertone. “It’s also about the salvation of the Jews – as well as that of the Arians and other heretics. We have a great Christian duty, a heavy responsibility to bring the truth to even those who are ignorant. And some … well, some have to be more emphatically convinced to be blessed than others. It’s only good for them.”

  Maximus took a deep breath. Those who knew him well knew he was struggling to maintain self-control. In contrast to Theodosius, the former governor of Britain wasn’t considered to be particularly hot-tempered. But it was difficult to maintain a calm attitude if one was emperor and didn’t quite receive the deserved respect.

  “Bishop!” he shouted.

  Maybe this rash form of address rushed a bit too loud over his lips. At any rate, Ambrosius narrowed his eyes and involuntarily straightened. Had he noticed that he was about to cross a finely drawn border?

  “Your advice is dear and important to me,” Maximus continued in a lower tone. “The benefit of the Church is very important to me. I reject the Arian deviants just as vehemently as you do. That’s why I have already given you a free hand in this regard. The purity of faith is central to the Empire and, of course, to all of our salvation. But there are necessities and priorities in politics that are not always in harmony with the wishes of the Church. I must dedicate myself to these aspects as well.”

  He raised a hand as Ambrosius tried to insert something. The Bishop wisely caught himself and kept his mouth shut.

  “To make matters worse,” Maximus said, “the Church by no means agrees on everything. By this I refer not only to the fact that, especially in the East, the majority of bishops are attached to the Arian errors.”

  “There will soon be a cleanup to solve the problem,” Ambrosius interjected. “It has already started in the West, and I am very satisfied with the first results. We are making good progress.”

  Maximus nodded. In response to the petition for clemency from many churches asking for leniency in regard to deserving priests, he had hitherto closed his heart, for he didn’t want to meddle in these things, at least not right now, where other priorities were pressing. Maximus didn’t grieve too much for dead Arians. He wasn’t detached too far from the ambitions of Ambrosius in these matters. He only preferred other … nuances.

  “Even the Trinitarians are not in agreement on everything. The Bishop of Rome is not half as committed as you, Ambrosius. I have the impression that he could well imagine a less radical implementation of our common ideas.”

  Ambrosius didn’t show any expression that might indicate a derogatory opinion about the Bishop of Rome.

  “My brother has my greatest respect,” he said. “His counsel is important to me.”

  “Not to mention other dignitaries,” Maximus continued. “I have even heard of bishops who can find some truth in the tolerant ideas of Rheinberg, Trinitarians in their hearts, but … pragmatically oriented.”

  Ambrosius clenched his teeth. The persons mentioned by Maximus disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. He was able to depose and punish the Arians with the help of the state authorities. But Trinitarians, whose only flaw was a lesser determination – that was a whole other problem. “That’s an issue we can take care of it,” he said. “I’m not too worried. These are no serious obstacles.”

  “Good to know. So we should wait a while, am I right? When it is clear what the situation develops into after the victory over Theodosius, we can devote ourselves to these things. We must not lose sight of other problems. The plague is one of them. It’s spread worries us all.”

  Ambrosius spat and made a contemptuous tone. “The plague! So much is clear: Only those are affected who have attracted the wrath of God! The East has not yet fully succumbed to the orthodox view, so the plague is God’s pointer, telling us that he’s no longer willing to tolerate this kind of heresy.”

  “The plague has reached the West by now!”

  “There are still many in the West who lack insight and righteousness. There, too, the punitive hand of God is felt. Maybe it’s a lesson for them.”

  Maximus looked around. Officers looked at each other or turned their eyes to the ground. Of course, there was something true about the words of the Bishop, no Christian wanted to dispute this. But the officers had a very practical problem: If the plague killed their soldiers, there were simply no men left to go to war with. Without soldiers, it would not only be difficu
lt to fight the external enemies but also the inner opponents, and those, to whom the special attention of the Ambrosius had been applied, would remain unmolested for the time being. Marauding priests couldn’t nail everyone on the cross. A proper pogrom required professional planning and was best supported by those whose job was killing.

  “The army of the East has been decimated by the plague!” Ambrosius trumpeted. “The Lord plays in our hands! Don’t you see that?”

  Maximus sighed. Ambrosius might know more about spiritual matters than he did, but as far as long-term military planning was concerned, he was an amateur.

  “I also see that once we have defeated Theodosius, there will be no army in the East that can defend the Empire against our enemies.”

  Perhaps the tone of his answer had been a bit too sharp – or too patronizing. But Maximus allowed himself this tiny slip. His nerves were strained, and it was depressing enough that not his enemy was the reason for his stress but someone whose support he should expect.

  Ambrosius stared at Maximus, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Could the Emperor really be so ignorant?

  Maximus got up before the Bishop could say another word. He would lose his patience, and above all, all self-control, if he continued this conversation. There were also, by God, more urgent things to discuss and decide. Apostates and heretics could wait.

  There was always more than enough of them.

  He nodded toward the Bishop and strove for a friendly tone and a smile as warm as possible. “I wish you a safe journey home, Ambrosius. Convey my best wishes to your brothers. I hope we’ll meet again next time at my victory celebration.”

  Ambrosius bowed. “Thank you. I will pray for your victory.” The Bishop seemed to realize that he wouldn’t be able to finish his favorite topic tonight.