The Emperor's Men 4: Uprising

by Dirk van den Boom

  Malobaudes nodded. “This is one of the good ideas of our enemies.”

  “Of course, it’s a good idea – and this way a very loyal, professional officer’s corps will be created, which will be very difficult for us to influence if we hesitate for a long time. Do not forget all the other reforms! The state budget is about to be consolidated! Did you know that the income situation of the Imperial court has started to improve over the last few weeks, especially since all tax breaks for the large latifundia owners and the Church have been canceled? If this continues, noble general, Gratian will be able to continue to expand his network of influence and power, because he now has the money to do so! And if he even achieves military successes, even with a great insurrection, it will hardly be possible to overthrow him – and the heretical and gloomy machinations of the wanderers will finally be unstoppable!”

  Malobaudes nodded. Ambrosius had spoken in rage, as almost always on such occasions. He himself had little sympathy for heretics – but above all, he was interested in becoming the Magister Militium of the new Emperor Maximus.

  That’s why he was part of this.

  “Good,” he said in order to say anything at all, and to put a stop to further excitement of the clergyman. “So if I understood you correctly, you see the time to act. I don’t contradict you in regard to the speed with which the influence of the time-wanderers spreads. But I know that Maximus’ troops are not yet ready. We must produce more of the weapons designed by our German so that we can lead a successful campaign. We make progress if the reports are to be believed. But it still will take time.”

  “How much?”

  Malobaudes raised his shoulders. “Ask Maximus!”

  “What is your opinion?”

  “Six months.”

  “Then the summer is over, and we can wait another year.”

  “The cannons work even in winter.”

  “No!”

  The Bishop hit the table with his fist, and the General winced. Ambrosius liked to talk a lot, and he was quite embarrassed and emotive.

  “I can only judge from a military perspective,” Malobaudes said, almost apologetically.

  “There are, however, other points of view than military ones,” Ambrosius snapped.

  “For sure.”

  “And there are other strategies than military.”

  “I know what you think of.”

  “Only in part.”

  Malobaudes listened. It had been agreed that at the time of the insurrection he should be near the Emperor and put an end to his youthful life. Ambrosius expected that he would do so quickly and painlessly. The General, who had neither friendship nor hatred for the young Emperor, had apparently taken this part of their plans without emotional attachment. People died in such actions, and this included an emperor if necessary.

  As long as his retreat was covered, he had no objections. But Ambrosius had apparently planned further.

  “It is not sufficient to kill Gratian,” the Bishop said, as if addressed the unspoken thoughts of the General. “His most faithful generals must also be removed.”

  “They will be with their troops if they don’t dwell at court. We need to place agents everywhere. It will take more time.”

  Ambrosius moved his hand. “If the Emperor is dead, the most important dignitaries will be at court, I think here mainly of people like Theodosius or Arbogast, and the rest will fold under the storm of events. Many officers will feel the wind blowing, and join us. Many will want to save their careers. But the most important thing is to beat the heads of Hydra.”

  “The time-wanderers.”

  “Rheinberg and von Geeren are high on my list. At Ravenna, in the new German village, some more. I’d like to spare the man named Dahms, as he might be useful to us. Renna must die, there is no doubt about that. And if all other allies of the wanderers are harmed, I will not complain. Symmachus and Michellus, the senators, are on that list.”

  Malobaudes fell silent. The lists of death-warrants became constantly longer. For him, that was less an ethical problem than a logistical one. If a plan becomes more and more complex, the likelihood of errors also increased. It has always been his principle to keep things as simple as possible. But in one thing, the Bishop was right, of course. Rheinberg, the Magister Militium, had to die. “Rheinberg is guarded almost as well as the Emperor,” the General remarked. “Our last attempt failed. The problem is that he can defend himself very well.”

  “Yes. But I have a second plan. This has also recently suffered a setback, but I haven’t given it up yet.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Now I will, because I need your help, General. You have to have use your connections with the court and have somebody introduced.”

  “Be more precise.”

  Ambrosius rose and opened the door. Outside, the group of his companions waited, eager to join the warmth of the fire. He called someone, and Malobaudes couldn’t understand. A slightly smaller figure emerged from the group and entered the hut. The Bishop closed the door and pointed to a free chair. “Sit down.”

  The figure threw back the heavy hood. Malobaudes’ eyes moved.

  “A woman!”

  And, as he added in thought, a very charming one.

  “This is Aurelia.” Ambrosius introduced the woman who sat silent. “Until recently, she was a slave of Rheinberg. I have offered her over a middleman to Renna, and he has given her as a present. The idea was that he takes her to live with him, and she kills him there. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen.”

  “Rheinberg has smelled the plan?”

  “He freed me before we could get so far,” Aurelia said, with a deep, smoky voice. “I didn’t get him to bed. He didn’t seem to like the idea of fucking a slave.”

  Malobaudes shrugged. He was well aware of the strange views of the time-wanderers on slavery. “So what’s the new plan?” he asked.

  “Aurelia is of the opinion that in any case Rheinberg is quite smitten by her.”

  The young woman smiled. “He behaved like a little boy in my presence.”

  “And so?” the General asked.

  “Aurelia is free and a woman of great education. Give her a position at court. Rheinberg obviously wanted to do that too, but the lady simply disappeared after her release.”

  The woman gave the Bishop a calculating look. “I didn’t want to proceed without new instructions.”

  “That was the right thing to do, my dearest,” Ambrosius replied gently.

  “Be that as it may, the core of my plan remains. Aurelia is free, and she should get a meaningful position. Thus, she is no longer unapproachable for someone with the moral ideals of Rheinberg. She will approach him, he will fall victim to her, she will kill him at a suitable time and disappear.”

  Malobaudes looked at the Bishop for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “This will be done. How shall he die?”

  The Bishop gave Aurelia a look. Without any facial expression on her face, she drew a dull, shining blade, thin and sharp, from her garment. The weapon lay securely in the woman’s narrow hand, and the General, at the sight of the assassin, was reminded of a deadly serpent. The eyes of Aurelia were unfathomable. She let the dagger disappear without comment and looked at the Bishop.

  “Aurelia will accompany you incognito back to Treveri,” Ambrosius said. “Do what you can, but do it soon. It won’t be six months before we are going to attack. Three maybe. But not more. Do you hear me, General?”

  He didn’t like what he heard, but he could hardly pretend not to be attentive. He nodded again.

  * * *

  It was half an hour later, when Aurelia left the hut. Her face was hidden under the wide hood when she mounted her horse and waited for the General to give the signal for departure. She had said nothing else during the further course of the planning session.

  When the horses fell into a light trot, her thoughts wandered to her mission. Ambrosius had once promised her freedom, a great reward, a house, and her own slaves. Who
would have rejected such an offer? This was worth more than the life of a single man.

  And as she thought about it, her right hand wandered unconsciously between her breasts. There, wrapped around her neck, lay a flat leather pouch, and her certificate of liberation, officially sealed and signed.

  Signed by Jan Rheinberg, a man who was already dead without knowing it.

  And not by Ambrosius, Bishop of Milan, man of promises.

  She did not even notice that she nearly crushed the document through her clothes.

  13

  “Well, he’s keeping all his promises!”

  Neumann looked up and smiled at Köhler. It didn’t take another minute, then Behrens and Africanus also appeared in the courtyard of the house. It was an early morning, the day of her departure to Aksum, and the NCO’s commentary was in regard to the caravan, which was ready to take the guests to the Aksumite imperial court.

  “I wouldn’t have dreamed that our luck would turn so quickly,” Africanus said, as he looked at the numerous mules. Guided by their drivers, carts were loaded with bags and boxes. They were packed not only with the goods brought by the Romans to Adulis, but also with provisions for the voyage, tents for camping in the open, and a chest with gifts for the Emperor. As they had been assured, it was a choice of commodities, which would be well received by the Emperor and his entourage. In the chest were various wooden boxes, all richly decorated and provided with the name of the receivers. Not all were destined for the Negusa Nagast but for other influential figures at court. Neumann had opened the casket for the Emperor and found in it fine jewelry, made of Nubian gold, and of excellent craftsmanship. This gift would definitely make an impression. The Governor had required only a few of the Romans’ valuable commodities for exchange.

  In addition to the men in charge of the mules, they had also been given a guide. In essence, this was not necessary for the orientation of the travelers. Aksum was accessible by a constantly-traveled and well-developed road that couldn’t be missed by anyone. But the guide, an elderly man who conveyed the impression of an experienced traveler, was at the same time carrying the seal of the Governor, which would enable them to make use of official assistance on their way to the capital. As far as the Empire was concerned, there was no more comfortable and safer way of traveling. Mules with simple saddles were also provided for the Germans. In the thin air of the high plateaus, which had to be climbed, and to overcome the height differences, mules were more suitable than horses. They were slow but strong and persistent.

  The stay in Adulis had been very pleasant in the last days, despite being filled with travel preparations. The Roman delegation had not been involved too much in those. Their quarters were comfortable and clean, they had plenty to eat, and they had visited the city and familiarized themselves with the history of the Empire. Any attempt to take part in the preparations for the trip had been rejected as a violation of hospitality. With such activities, they had been told, they didn’t have to deal with; there were servants who knew exactly what they had to do. Now that the four men had seen the well-equipped, ready-to-go caravan before them, they had to admit that their hosts had been correct. It was to be doubted that they would’ve arranged a similarly professional effort. Besides, the days of rest had done them good. Since their arrival, the Germans had had little opportunity for idleness and relaxation, especially on the leadership level. From this point of view, the city tour through Adulis and the hospitality of the Aksumites had been a pleasant change. Neumann, Behrens and Köhler were now again ready for action, and even the Roman officer didn’t want to complain too much about the little vacation he enjoyed.

  “We can depart, can we?” Behrens muttered, looking somewhat confused at the guide as well as the muleteers, who in turn looked at the guests. There was undoubtedly a communication problem.

  After all, Africanus could understand Greek. It became clear, however, that their Aksumite friends wouldn’t be overly prolific conversation partners on the long journey.

  The orderly chaos of the preparations for the trip now dissolved as the caravan formed. The four travelers were just about to mount their animals, when a group of men entered the courtyard of the house, and in their midst the Governor of Adulis. He had apparently come to say goodbye to his guests.

  “I would like to express my gratitude for your hospitality,” Neumann said after greeting him politely. “We felt very comfortable in your city.”

  Berhan smiled dismissively.

  “Don’t thank me too much. Your reception was not very hospitable at the beginning, and I had to make amends. In addition, it is important for me, as the governor of the most important trading hub of the Empire, that the relations with our powerful neighbors remain good and friendly. Rome is of central importance in the world, and Aksum is a friend of Rome.”

  “Have there been any new insights about the murder of Latius?” Africanus wanted to know. The facial expression of the Governor turned dim. Regretfully, he made a gesture.

  “I’m very sorry,” he said. “Though I have ordered my people to give this tragic affair great attention, they have not yet advanced. I hope to know more once you return to Adulis. I suspect that he has become the victim of a normal robbery. No glory for this city and for me as a Governor. For now, therefore, it is my goal to do everything in my power to bring those responsible to justice.”

  The Governor made a sincere impression. Africanus let it go. The departing guests exchanged a few polite words with the dignitary, and then they received the best wishes for a safe journey. They mounted the mules with difficulty, and when the caravan was finally ready for departure, greetings were exchanged for a last time. Then the animals set in motion, without any great incentive by the muleteers required. They trotted out of the courtyard to the busy street. Shortly afterwards, they reached the main street of Adulis, which stretched from the harbor across the center to the western end, and left for the capital city of Aksum.

  They advanced well and had passed the outskirts half an hour later. In front of them, the mountainous regions of Aksum were visible. They assumed that they would reach the capital after seven strenuous days, if nothing happened.

  On the evening of the first day, they arrived in a village that lay directly at the road. It was a relatively barren region, and the situation of the villagers seemed to be difficult, judging by the smell that struck them when they entered the only large building of the settlement and asked the village chief for a night camp. The seal of the Governor showed its hoped-for effect, and the travelers brought their own supplies and thus didn’t require food from the poor villagers, which was quite welcome. Outside, close to the mules, bonfires were lit, for the men caring for them would spend their time outdoors with their animals.

  After a simple but satisfying supper, Neumann joined Köhler, who stood outside the door of the house and looked into the night sky.

  “We need to think more about how we want to proceed once we have arrived in Aksum,” the Doctor finally said after a few minutes of silence.

  “I think our approach is quite clear,” Köhler replied. “We ask the Emperor for permission to look for the coffee bean. Or, better yet, someone at court knows the plant already and just didn’t know what to do with it. Then we talk about the cultivation and make a contract – and next year we will start the first Roman coffee-making industry.”

  “You always think practically, Köhler,” Neumann replied smiling.

  “But this is not just about our longing for caffeine but also about politics. I have discussed this with Africanus. It will not be so easy.”

  “What did you learn?”

  “The current Aksumite emperor is an old man and hasn’t left his palace for years. Everyone knows his probable successor, a young man named Ouazebas. I didn’t find much in the Captain’s documents on the Aksumite history, so the name tells me little. The fact is that Ouazebas is gaining power every year and is already speaking at many occasions for the Emperor. He is the one with whom we mus
t in any case speak, aside from the old man.”

  Köhler shrugged. “Good, we do that.”

  Neumann smiled and shook his head. “Many want to get in touch with him and get his favor. Even among our gifts is a large box with its name. Adulis, too, wants to be his friend.”

  “And?”

  “He who has such power also has enemies. If the Emperor, on the advice of his predestined successor, is graciously accepting our petitions, we automatically turn the whole project into a part of the political play that takes place here – especially when he is behind it, especially in light of the considerable financial revenue we are expecting and with which we will vigorously advertise our plans.”

  There was no doubt for the time-travelers that a drug like caffeine should have a strong appeal in the Roman Empire. In contrast to alcohol, the moral reservations would be rather small, not even the otherwise critical Church could argue much against it. If production and distribution were well thought-out and organized, they were faced with a gigantic business that would enable both those who worked in it and the state to generate various revenues. If he wouldn’t have been convinced by this perspective, Rheinberg would never have given his consent to this expedition.

  “So we have to be careful,” Köhler concluded.

  “Very careful. It is also about the relations between Aksum and Rome. The people here are not stupid. They know who we are. Our reputation is at stake. And that we are closely linked to the Emperor, has certainly already become known. Whether we want it or not, we’re playing a diplomatic role here.” For a moment, the doctor grimaced and looked silently into the flickering fires of the muleteers. “That’s why it’s so tragic that Latius is dead. It was precisely because of these diplomatic considerations that his advice would have been of great value. Now we have to act like amateurs, and I don’t particularly fancy that.”