The Emperor's Men 4: Uprising

by Dirk van den Boom

  Berhan saw it with satisfaction. For him, the fact that the Negusa came to him with the captured Romans was an indication that he considered them to be those responsible for the assassination. It was heard that Ouazebas, the heir to the throne, was bound to his bed with severe poisoning, and no one was sure whether he would ever recover.

  When all this was over, Berhan assumed that he would have to speak with his poison experts about the dosage for future action. Ouazebas, a strong man in the flower of his life, did evidently need a higher quantity than expected. These were the small problems that could sometimes have big consequences. Nevertheless, the hope remained that the attack would still be successful.

  Berhan himself stood before the gate of his residence as the Emperor’s entourage arrived. The men were already carrying torches, and lamps had been lit. The Negusa Nagast, apparently driven by a proper rage about the cowardly assassination organized by the Romans, had only a relatively small group with him, not even fifty servants, and only about two hundred men of his bodyguard were accompanying him as well. Berhan had hurriedly provided the necessary quarters. Of course, the Emperor had his own residence in Adulis, but it was only appropriate to give the old man every possible care and reverence.

  Two servants helped the Emperor from his mule. In spite of his age, Mehadeyis preferred to forego wagons or litters. He came with a groan on his feet and looked around, until he saw Berhan. A friendly smile of welcome on his lips, the Governor hurried to bend his knee before his master.

  “Arise, my dear Berhan,” the Emperor said, with good will in his voice. “It is well.”

  The Governor did as he was told, and waved invitingly toward his residency.

  “I’ve prepared everything for your reception. Refreshments are available. Rooms for you and all your men are at your disposal. No matter what desire you have, I want to meet it. Rely on me and my people!”

  “Too kind, my dear Berhan, too kind. I’m making too much fuzz, my old friend. The visit came quite unexpectedly, I know. I won’t be a burden for you too long. But there are certain things which are to be discussed, and which I’d like to tackle in person.”

  Berhan made a well-studied, worried face.

  “I’ve heard the terrible news. I am dismayed, horrified. I myself ought to have done something against the Romans once their blood trail began in my town. But I have acted in good faith and didn’t think that this official delegation had been sent to attempt an assassination. And now this! I am surely to blame for this disaster! May the Lord strengthen Ouazebas and give him the ability to survive this mean attack. I pray for him every day.”

  Mehadeyis nodded measuredly. “Your sympathy comforts me, my friend. Really, I appreciate it very much. And let’s not talk about you being responsible. That’s not true at all.”

  Berhan smiled and bowed deeply. Then he personally led the Emperor into the brightly illuminated audience hall, where his servants had prepared everything for a feast. He watched with pleasure how the soldiers rushed the struggling Romans, saw them stumbling and dropping to the ground, and smitten with evil curses. The men looked torn and unkempt. They had certainly suffered greatly since the attack.

  Berhan found that this was a good starting point for him. This could only go well for him.

  “Do we want to deal with this waste during the meal?” he asked the Emperor, as the soldiers pushed the prisoners into the main hall. Mehadeyis looked worried.

  “I’ll have it done quickly, my friend, as soon as possible. I’m sorry for charging you and your house with this spectacle, but some things cannot be tolerated even by an old man like me.”

  “Of course, of course.”

  As expected, the Emperor sat on the elevated seat, which was normally reserved for Berhan. The Governor didn’t show the slightest annoyance. Like an obedient underling, he took his place at the table, while the prisoners were ordered to stand on the wall by soldiers, who were beating them freely.

  Mehadeyis made movement with his hand toward the miserably downtrodden delinquents. “Berhan, you spoke to them. What did they say?”

  “Oh, they’ve obviously lied to me, and I’ve been tricked. I’m very embarrassed. They seemed to me like a trade delegation, who wanted to present certain offers to you. They carried all sorts of goods with them, but above all was their desire to go to your court.”

  “You have prepared mine and Ouazebas’ gifts!”

  Berhan looked sad. “Here the treason of my hospitality is so painful that it almost threatens to tear me apart. O Lord, I myself have chosen for them the right items for the taste of influential personalities at court, paid out of my own pocket to promote the good relations between Rome and the Empire. And these traitors have shamefully exploited my willingness to help by infesting these presents with poison, if I have understood correctly.”

  “Apparently, yes. And before that they killed their own ambassador?”

  “It seems so, yes. My men are still investigating this issue; we have not yet concluded our efforts. Of course they denied everything. I also don’t understand the possible motive. On the other hand …”

  “You have a guess?” Mehadeyis’ gaze rested pleasingly on the man, and he felt encouraged to continue.

  “Well, in the light of the latest developments, it seems as if the victim had perhaps learned about the sinister assassination plans and expressed his profound opposition. This in turn leads to the assumption that Rome itself is not at all aware of this plan, but that it has to do with the intentions of the time-wanderers, who seem to be very dishonest. I hear that even in Rome the arrival of strangers has not met with approval everywhere.”

  The Emperor nodded thoughtfully. “There’s something to be said for your argument, Berhan. You have obviously given the issue some thought.”

  Berhan bowed, not least in order to hide his triumphant smile. “I’ll serve wherever I can!”

  Mehadeyis sank for a few moments into a deep and brooding silence. Quietly and efficiently, the servants prepared the dishes for the high guests. But until the Emperor would commence the meal, no one would touch any of the delicacies offered.

  The old man raised his head and looked at Berhan.

  His face was now hard and repulsive. The Governor was sure that Mehadeyis would probably order the torture of the prisoners before their eyes. It was obvious that the Emperor was most annoyed about the attack on his heir.

  “Berhan.”

  “Your Majesty?”

  “You must consider me very stupid.”

  “I don’t understand …”

  Mehadeyis rose. He gave his soldiers a sign. These brought out the knives and cut through the fetters of the prisoners with fast, safe movements.

  Berhan looked from the Emperor to the soldiers and back. He didn’t grasp what was happening here.

  One of the guards now stepped forward, he had hitherto been hidden in the shadows. He put down his helmet.

  Berhan made a sound, involuntarily, like a wounded animal. Ouazebas stood there, in all health, a little tired perhaps, but obviously not struggling with death.

  The governor of Adulis rose tumbling. He didn’t say a word. Now he realized that he was the victim of a charade. “I … Your Majesty …”

  “You’re really glad that I’m still alive, Berhan?” Ouazebas asked with a dangerous smile. He waved toward the time-wanderers, the Romans. Africanus and the physician Neumann stood next to the heir. The massive, older man, Köhler, joined them. Suddenly, they no longer looked so torn, exhausted and tormented.

  “Of course … I just don’t understand …”

  “Ah, is that so? No problem. My friend here can explain everything.” Ouazebas waved to the group of servants. A man detached himself and put his hood back. His face was motionless, without feeling, and Berhan knew it only too well.

  Haleb. A traitor.

  He responded quickly. Now that everything had collapsed, it was necessary to taste a last triumph before he looked forward to certain death. Berhan
was not an old man, and he was a good fighter. As a man of high rank, he was allowed to carry a weapon in the presence of the Emperor, but he made no attempt to draw the sword. The soldiers would have been in between them before he could have done the first move.

  A small dagger lay in his hand. A fast, dangerous and purposeful weapon, if guided by an expert.

  Ouazebas shouted a warning. The prince was too far away. Soldiers pulled their weapons. Too late, too much distance.

  Berhan whirled around, the tip of the dagger between the thumb and the forefinger, directed at the old emperor, who stared rigidly confronting his certain death. With a flowing, almost elegant movement, the Governor swung the dagger back, ready to throw.

  Then a bang, crackling, loud.

  An invisible fist hit Berhan, throwing him out of balance and forcing him to the ground. The dagger slipped away. He looked down at himself and saw blood that spilled from his chest. Then the pain. Then nothing more.

  Köhler lowered his hand with the pistol.

  For a moment, everyone stared at the Governor’s corpse. Everything had happened so quickly, and especially for Berhan’s servants the turn of events had been startling. The Emperor’s soldiers were keeping an eye on the armed men. But the Lord of Adulis was dead. None of his followers even made any faint move to do anything foolish. It was even possible that on many a face a little relief appeared.

  Neumann patted Köhler approvingly on the shoulder. He still held the pistol steadily in his hand, kept looking at the corpse.

  Ouazebas and Mehadeyis turned to the shooter, their eyes full of respect, fear and curiosity in regard to the little handgun. Köhler did nothing to hide the weapon.

  The Emperor broke the silence by sitting down and pointing to the corpse of his enemy. “Take that away!” he ordered.

  Servants hurried to obey the order.

  Then he looked at Neumann and at Köhler, who saved his life. And the Doctor, whom he thought was the speaker of the group.

  “Coffee, yes, time-wanderer?”

  Neumann smiled and bowed his head.

  The old Emperor grinned and scratched his hair. “You’ve convinced me. I shall be soft in my old days.”

  Neumann said nothing.

  The Emperor might describe himself in any way he liked. His own impression, however, was quite different.

  30

  Rheinberg wasn’t present, and that wasn’t good. He had announced his arrival for the day, coming directly from another exhausting inspection of the troops stationed in the vicinity of the city. He wanted to go directly to the Emperor, directly into the meeting, but so far he hadn’t yet appeared, and although the discussion had begun, the group’s unrest was clearly felt.

  Klaus von Geeren sat in the circle of high officers under the Emperor’s chairmanship and felt a little lost. He had immediately, once it became known that Maximus had initiated his first move, sent a messenger to Rheinberg, already suspecting that the newly minted Supreme Commander had long since received the news. But he had to do something now, even if it would only turn out to be a gesture.

  The Generals Arbogast, Malobaudes and Richomer, the latter recently promoted to that rank, were sitting around the large table with some other officers. The current version of the Roman imperial map was hung up in a wooden frame, improved by German material, for the first time at least approximately true to scale and with correct distances between the marked places.

  A duplicate of the map, freshly delivered from the halls of the draftsmen, lay spread before them on the table. Since no one wanted to say anything, they all pretended to study it intensively. Particular attention was given to the troops of Maximus, marked by small red pieces of wood, on the west coast of Gaul, where they were at least suspected to operate. They had, without doubt, landed in the same province, in which Treveri was situated, but still remained close to the water.

  The cursus publicus worked well, especially the faster part of the system, the cursus velox, and especially well in transmitting bad news. The messengers, sent by the competent authorities in Gaul, had been on fast horses and moving without breaks. It still had taken quite a few days for the first warning to arrive in Treveri. They had no knowledge of what had happened since then. Almost every day messages were received, but all confirmed what they were expecting: Magnus Maximus had been in contact with Alanian allies, who had given him a large number of additional warriors, and it was already clear that some of the smaller garrisons of the limitanei, probably encouraged by threats as well as bribery, had joined the usurper in his uprising.

  It was reassuring for von Geeren that none of the news so far showed that von Klasewitz had been able to add any of his special weapons to the attacking force. On the other hand, no one had ever thought of approaching Maximus’ men in battle to find out. The military authorities of Gaul, so far as they had not immediately surrendered to the Comes, held back because they didn’t have the manpower to intervene. This manpower was with the Emperor and his field army, in addition to what von Geeren might scratch together from his company of German infantry. At that moment, the preparations were made to depart with the legions to the north and confront Maximus. The provision of all the troops and the return of Rheinberg to Trier would coincide. They had until then to develop a plan how they would oppose Maximus.

  And there was apparently no agreement about this.

  Gratian rose and walked quietly to the narrow, high arched windows, from which he had a good view of the city. There was great activity, for the equipment of the legions had to be provided. Some people would make good business. It was always like that.

  “We mustn’t hesitate,” the young Emperor finally said, trying to give his voice the necessary strength. “We can’t wait and we can’t waste time with unnecessary tactical maneuvers. We mustn’t appear to be weak. If we hesitate too long, others will turn over to the side of Maximus.”

  He faced to his officers, more determined than ever.

  “We have to make a quick and unambiguous decision in our favor. We can’t allow ourselves to enter into an endless campaign with a multitude of battles and thus also devastation. None of us, Maximus or I, have great reserves. The armies of the East, after the invasion of the Goths, remain only a shadow of their own. I have the legions of the West, and I have only one chance. If the defeat of Valens before Adrianople taught me something, then that I shouldn’t throw away my troops. But at the same time, too much caution will cost us victory. The dynamics of the current development are on Maximus’ side. We have to take this up, and as soon as possible. Then we will have the momentum and we will end this civil war as quickly and as painlessly as possible.”

  Gratian looked around. No one seemed to want to contradict him until Richomer raised his hand. The Emperor nodded toward him and sat down again.

  “Augustus … I had the unfortunate task of leading your vanguard to Valens, and of witnessing how the whole of the East’s army was going down.”

  “I know.”

  “I really want to push the preparations as thoroughly as possible. You are certainly right, that the army of the East is only reforming slowly. But if we act defensively, and gather at least those troops that we have in Thessaloniki, we would increase our chances of victory. Since Thessaloniki, these soldiers have known the way in which the weapons of the time-wanderers work. They will not be intimidated by the German legionaries, and even if the insurgents have guns, they won’t react like panicky chickens. We can make good use of this hard core of experienced men, as they keep their nerves, and they are very loyal to the time-wanderers, and especially to Rheinberg. I therefore suggest that we move the Western troops to the East, that the units from Thessaloniki meet us halfway, and then we will seek that decisive battle of yours.”

  Gratian had listened to Richomer’s speech with an expressionless face. It was, however, to be noted that everything in him felt contrary to the General’s suggestion. Nevertheless, he dispensed of any immediate comment.

  “I agree
with Richomer,” Malobaudes said. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions too fast. Whether we’re going to march or not, the only thing we’ll risk is that Gallic troops will join Maximus. This will increase his strength only insignificantly. Ultimately, if we follow Richomer’s suggestion, we will be able to gain loyal reinforcements in the East, which will ultimately benefit us much better than a few limitanei.”

  Richomer nodded approvingly.

  Arbogast, on the other hand, as the only general who had hitherto expressed no opinion, seemed unconvinced. “I’m more inclined to follow the Emperor’s suggestion in this,” he said at last. No one would think of him as a toady, for he had already vehemently objected to Gratian on another occasion, and was regarded as respectful, but also as someone who had his own head. “We increase Maximus’ strength, indeed. And that is not all. We have reports according to which priests in various cities have spoken openly in favor of the usurper. They spread rumors that the Emperor had come under the ominous influence of witchcraft, caused by the time-wanderers, and is no longer the master of his senses. Those people are being reviled. If Maximus advances, and we don’t contain him quickly and decisively, the words of the rebels will fall on fertile ground. When the people turn against Gratian in massive scale, we have a serious problem that can’t be solved militarily.”

  Richomer uttered a curse and hit the table with his fist. “We owe this to Ambrosius and his fellows!”

  Gratian raised a hand. “We don’t want to draw premature conclusions. The Bishop has not explained himself. There are indications of his involvement, but there is no conclusive evidence. I know what this Goth has claimed, and I must consider it. But he is the one who has kidnapped my uncle and surrendered him to Maximus. I’m not sure if he’s to be trusted. Ambrosius is nowhere close to the Comes in sight; he resides in Milan, and is concerned with affairs of the Church.”