Volkert nodded. He had feared something like that. And he knew that he had to pay a debt to Bertius. In the past few days, he had devised several ways to do this, and this conversation led to the solution most feasible. “I am now a centurion, Bertius.”
“Yes, and congratulations are in order, sir.”
Volkert didn’t know about the seriousness of this praise, but he dismissed the issue right away.
“In addition, Sedacius called me into his staff.” Why he revealed to Bertius what he had not wanted to tell Secundus, he didn’t really know.
“Congratulations again, sir!” Now there was something like respect in the legionary’s voice.
“In my position, I have the right to a soldier who takes care of my personal affairs – erect my tent, keep my things neat, cook my food.”
Bertius’ face brightened. “Yes?”
Volkert knew he would regret this one day. Bertius could build a tent, yes, but he was messy and a miserable cook. Yet …
“If you want this position, you can stay in the service.” Bertius smiled gratefully at Volkert and nodded eagerly.
“It’ll be great, Centurion! It’ll be wonderful!” Volkert closed his eyes and feigned fatigue. Yes, he would regret it.
There was absolutely no doubt about that.
27
A summer morning, dry, a little too cold for the season, but it was a time he couldn’t have chosen any better.
The sound distrust in von Klasewitz in regard to the Romans’ naval abilities was almost as much a part of his habit as in his distrust of any other construction the British legions had prepared upon their planned crossing of the English Channel. He knew that the Romans had succeeded in carrying out a successful invasion to the island, and he also knew that the captains of those large-scale transport vessels knew the occasionally wild weather conditions of the canal. The sailor in him also recognized that the waves were low, the breeze at best a lukewarm and everyone radiated great confidence and serenity.
Comes Magnus Maximus, the future emperor of Rome, who was in full armor with a polished helmet, stood next to his officers and watched the loading from an ascent.
Von Klasewitz had to admit that the Romans were experts in handling their primitive equipment. The officers had a good grip on the whole process. The legionaries themselves were, as expected, disciplined and entered the landed transport galleys in long rows, setting sail directly afterwards in order to transfer the heavy ships to Gallia at a slow pace. Many of them had already made this crossing several times, some even in the worst of weather conditions.
They had avoided using one of the established ports. Instead, they had accepted an arduous work of loading and unloading. They didn’t want to make it easy for the Emperor’s spies. However, a certain redesign of the loading equipment had been necessary, and von Klasewitz had been able to add to that with his expertise.
The main concern of the nobleman was that his by now 36 bronze cannons, divided into three artillery companies, constituted not only the core of their insurrection army, but also posed special challenges in shipping. Three particularly large and sturdy transport galleys had been provided for the three companies, and the dismantled guns, the heavy tube first, were hoisted on board with the aid of pulleys. Von Klasewitz himself had designed the construction of the crane. If a pipe fell into the soft sand of the coast, worst of all under the water level, it would not be just a difficult job to get it out again, it would be exposed to corrosion much faster than the other guns. So the German was almost feverishly attentive with every piece, while the Roman soldiers put it on the ships.
And it all worked out perfectly.
The nobleman had to admit a few days ago that he had underestimated the Romans in some respects. Perhaps, he had come to the conclusion, they were not as primitive and underdeveloped in everything as he had assumed. Above all, he had had to realize that some of them were very eager and willing to learn – even from someone whose teaching method could best be described as raw.
Von Klasewitz, of course, had not resigned himself to praising his men for their energy and dedication. But the fact that he had every day less reason to scold and complain spoke in a certain way for itself. Likewise, the man had begun to delegate many tasks to subordinates without fear of failure. He still couldn’t really suffer any of these people, and certainly none of the soldiers felt much sympathy for him. But on some level a mutual and professional approach to their work had developed, the existence of which the time-wanderer couldn’t deny.
“It won’t take another hour, then the loading is finished,” Maximus said, as he joined the German. “The weather is quite favorable. We are also expecting emissaries of our Alanian allies. They have already eliminated any guards at our landing site, so there will be no early warning. We will form our troops before the military leaders of Gaul will know. And there will be only limitanei to oppose us, and they won’t be too eager. With a little luck, we’ll be able to convince their commanders to join us.”
“Luck?” Klasewitz raised his eyebrows. Maximus grinned.
“Of course gold has already changed hands, and promises have been made in regard to promotions and better conditions of duty. It is always useful to help fortune a bit.”
“How many Alanians will join us?”
Von Klasewitz had met the tribe. A troublesome folk, that was his first impression. A group of almost 100 chiefs, who were roughly equal to the rank of an officer, had been acquainted with the cannons and their way of operation. Their task was to prepare their own people at least theoretically for the new weapon and, if possible, to avoid panic when the three companies fired their first volley. The barbarians had been deeply impressed. The German didn’t know whether the hours of teaching had been fruitful. In any case, they had made a positive contribution to the stability of their alliance with Maximus.
This fact had not escaped the Comes.
“We have been assured of 20,000 warriors,” he answered the German’s question. “We ourselves have 15,000 legionaries from Britain available. In Gaul, as I suppose, we will be joined by a another 15,000 border troops, perhaps more. Then we need a decisive victory, and the neighboring provinces will subsequently turn away from Gratian. But precisely because the time-wanderers are widely regarded as wizards in military matters, many will wait until such a preliminary decision emerges. And your cannons play the central role in this matter.”
“I’ll do anything not to disappoint you.”
“l expect nothing less.”
Maximus smiled knowingly and turned away as an officer approached him. Von Klasewitz didn’t know how to interpret the last remark of the Comes. Was that a proof of confidence in the abilities of the traitor? Or a clue to von Klasewitz’ dependence on the Comes, especially in regard to the consequences the deserter would have to suffer if their plans failed and the opposite side won the day?
Von Klasewitz hoped for the first explanation to be valid, but he had the indeterminate feeling that the second would probably get closer to the truth.
“Everything is on board!” The Roman legionary, who had been given to von Klasewitz as his official factotum, pointed to one of the great ships.
The German nodded. It was the last of the three, which had been especially prepared for the cannons, and it was only waiting for him. The time for departure had come. He gave himself a jerk, followed the legionary down the hill toward the ship. A long walk made from wooden planks led him, though somewhat wobbly, directly to the ship, on the aftdeck on which a bearded man stood, “captain” invisibly tattooed on his forehead. As von Klasewitz navigated the slightly slippery deck, he looked over the railing at the sea, and he felt what he had missed in the last weeks and months. His sea legs came back again, and quite instinctively, he adjusted himself to the hardly palpable movements of the ship’s hull. A movement went through the ship as the soldiers took his arrival as the right time to push the galley away from the shore. The waves grew stronger, but von Klasewitz had no proble
ms to keep up.
“How long?” he asked the Captain, who evidently left the routine to his gubernator.
“In this weather? Two hours, no longer. The men are rested, we will have a good time. If there are no winds that blow us off, it will be two hours.”
Von Klasewitz nodded. Then he walked along the long deck of the ship to the bow. He stared through the clear air at the distant shore of Gaul, which appeared indistinctly in the mist. Inspecting, he held his nose in the air, tasted the salty breeze, then smiled.
Two hours he was looking forward to.
Orders arose. Rudders were extended and lowered into the water. The tact was played.
With a gentle groan, the galley seriously engaged the waves.
The finality of their endeavor was now clear to everyone. Von Klasewitz also knew that they were now condemned to success.
Another thing he could look forward to.
28
“You are and will always be the most beautiful of all!”
Diderius had to exert himself a little to say these words, for the recipient of his praise might enjoy many advantages, but beauty was surely none of them. Flavia was more broad than high, her skin covered with all sorts of pimples and warts, and her coarse fleshy hands bore witness to the work with which she earned her meagre income. Her dark brown hair touched her sweaty face in an untidy manner, and her lips showed a relaxed and happy smile, as Diderius, his imagination fixed on a well-known whore, had done his utmost to satisfy Flavia’s carnal needs.
Her smile showed that he had been very successful. He forced himself to lay a hand on a wobbly breast of hers and managed to deepen the smile on her face.
Surely, it was a happy coincidence that Flavia, in addition to beauty, lacked other qualities as well. Thus, she was, according to the conviction of the Diderius, devoid of all intelligence, of an almost impossible simplicity, and possessed the emotional depth of a dog. That was the reason why he had managed to sneak into the heart of the cook, had aroused her passion with simple, even clumsy compliments. Moreover, Diderius had received a certain budget for his work. Even after he had spent half the sum of money on himself, he still had enough to buy cheap goods for his “sweetheart,” who without hesitation always reacted to them with bright enchantment, and the trinkets only seemed to deepen her passion for Diderius. That wasn’t surprising. Flavia’s most precious possession was, as her lover could tell, a large, well-cut butcher’s knife, which, as he found, fit well with the woman. Diderius’ attention had therefore to appear to her as gifts from the gods.
A few days passed, almost two weeks, since he had secured his position as Flavia’s official companion and lover, but now he stood every day in the early evening beside the back of the large canteen in the German’s village, a place responsible for feeding not only of the numerous employees of the administration and of the medical school, but also the crew of the iron ship. Here, simple Flavia had an important part to play, for despite all the limitations of her mental faculties she was an excellent cook and, in the last few months, had been promoted to manager of one of the shifts that provided the food almost round the clock. In the evening, smelling from kitchen waste, with a bright smile on her lips, she went into the widely spread arms of the young, handsome man, who for some reason was enraptured by her. Diderius had in the meantime taken a steady position, which enabled him to survive this powerful expression of affection without immediately losing his balance.
The evening usually ended in an inexpensive tavern, where Diderius invited Flavia to dinner, a walk across the market, where he bought her trinkets for little money, which she immediately described as “eternal recollection of our immortal love” until additional memorabilia were presented the following day, and this was the most difficult part, in the bed of the small dwelling that Diderius had hired in a tenement house, and which consciously showed modest prosperity without appearing to be pretentious. Every now and then Diderius flashed the denarii, which he kept hidden in a chest to impress Flavia. The lover was not sure if Flavia’s passion for him had anything to do with the fact that he was the first man in her life who seemed to be willing to lie with a woman like her at all and, with the outlook on marriage, would raise her standard of living. Probably it was something of both, but above all the fact that Diderius showed any attention to poor Flavia, and since then had, as far as possible, delighted her with pleasures previously being completely unknown to her.
There were, indeed, the occasional short moments in which he felt almost sorry for her. The thought of the gold and a comfortable position in the administration of a province of his choice, which had both been promised to him, made such sentiments disappear very quickly. Even from sex with Flavia, surely a physical as well as a psychic act of willpower, he got a break, as he kept himself free for one evening a week, not only to forfeit the advances of the cook, but also to visit a woman, a whore of his greatest confidence, whose body and abilities calmed his nerves.
Furthermore, the long awaited messenger had arrived. The instructions given to Diderius had been clear: Wait for the messenger, or hear how far the uprising has already approached Ravenna, and react accordingly. Diderius was delighted that he was considered intelligent and farsighted enough to make this decision independently. He had safeguarded the two bags with the greenish-brown powder which had been given to him like his eyeballs, locked in a small chest, which Flavia had never seen during her visits.
The messenger had come. He had set off on the same day from Britain Magnus Maximus had started the trip across the canal. This had been four weeks ago, when the messenger, almost always on horseback and on river ships, had traveled to Ravenna to tell Diderius that it was time to make contact with another spy. He sat in the city’s military administration, and was to pass on to Diderius any information about the progress of the insurrection so that he could judge when it was appropriate to enter the decisive phase of his plan which would make him a rich man and provide a comfortable life.
Everything else, to be honest, didn’t matter to him.
The message also meant that his relationship with Flavia, carefully maintained and kept alive under considerable personal sacrifices, had to undergo its first real test.
“You know, my darling,” he said lightly, caressing the soft mass of her voluminous belly, “your work is fascinating. You are responsible for the physical well-being of so many people – and so important people! So close to technical wonders that none of us really understands. It must be very exciting!”
Flavia’s face reddened. She was embarrassed by his attention and praise. “But Didi!” He hated it when she called him Didi. “Didi, believe me, I’m just a simple cook!”
“A shift manager with considerable responsibility. Do you think the time-wanderers would really allow anyone in their vicinity? The crew of the Saravica is fed by you! You strengthen the empire’s backbone through your work!”
“Oh Didi!” she whispered, and at once fell silent, visibly ashamed. “No one has ever said that to me.”
“Then it was due time,” Diderius asserted, and began to gently massage the region below the abdomen. “You’re not a Roman woman sitting at home and leaving all responsibility to the men. You are a strong woman who makes her contribution in a responsible position!”
“Oh Didi!” This time it sounded more like a sigh, which certainly had to do with the massage he had started to perform.
“They trust you, Flavia,” Diderius whispered. “This is quite understandable, you are a very trustworthy person!”
Trustingly describes it better, he thought to himself, but was glad that Flavia turned red again. It worked!
“You even have the keys to the kitchen, don’t you? Not everyone would be given the keys. The keys are important!”
The keys were indeed important. Flavia directed the late shift, timed from the early afternoon to the evening hours. In this position, she was obliged to make sure that the kitchen complex was properly closed in the evening. Diderius had as
sumed that she dropped the keys afterwards. It could also be that someone from the security team was responsible for the final check. It was time to find out more about that. The time-wanderers had introduced quite complicated mechanical locks. They were chunky, but far safer than anything the Romans had used so far. And very difficult to open.
“The keys I keep where you are as well, my dear Didi!” Flavia whispered, smiling. “I’m carrying them in a bag around my neck, close to my heart!”
Diderius made a delighted face, and this time he didn’t even have to pretend while he was exerting soft pressure between Flavia’s legs. The cook rolled her eyes and groaned, while her lover’s gaze wandered over to the clothes, which lay carelessly on a stool. There, half-hidden by the patchy tunic, lay a small leather bag with a rolled collar. He had about the right size for one of the big, iron keys.
While Diderius continued his massage with automatic movements, and the massive woman was thus increasingly agitated, the next step of his plan was formed in his head. He wondered how he would be able to remove Flavia from his calculation. To kill her would cause unnecessary suspicion, especially if the military threat of the insurgents approached. He had to make her disappear just before his intervention so that it didn’t seem to be too suspicious – or even better: to manage it in such a way that she didn’t realize what was happening with her key, would never miss, it and therefore exactly radiate the innocence, which would surely reflect on himself.
Flavia was trembling. “Didi, oh Didi. Don’t stop!”
Diderius had no intention. He was ready for the climax.
29
When they arrived in Adulis, dusk fell. In spite of the arrival of the Negusa Nagast, there was a strange calm in the port city, as if everyone was straining to see what would happen. Officially, this was merely a visit by the Emperor to his estate, in order to be informed about the latest developments. The fact that the Roman ambassadors were laid in chains and tightened to their donkeys was only noticed by the observers who knew exactly who these men actually were.
The Emperor's Men 4: Uprising Page 17