And so he had recognized what it meant to the old centurion, the commander of a guard post with perhaps 50 men, to join the insurgents. The gray-haired veteran was not a classical traitor, not one who was unfaithful to Rome, who looked at his short-term advantage. He simply wanted to survive until the end of his service, receive the promised gratification from his emperor, a piece of land, tax exemption, a peaceful life for perhaps another ten or fifteen years, die in his sleep as a well respected member of his community. A man of modest prosperity, of rank, with a glorious and honorable life, to which it was worth to look back.
And so the Comes had shown him due respect.
Von Klasewitz was sure that Maximus had not even pretended.
The usurper was not an insane upstart, no victim of megalomania, no one who wanted to gain power to realize irrational plans of grandeur. This was reassuring and disturbing at the same time for the German. And he didn’t know exactly why.
The Centurion left the tent. Maximus watched after him for a moment, then sighed, and turned to the map, which showed Gaul and the adjoining provinces. Andragathius, the faithful general of Maximus, had been interrupted in his lecture by the appearance of the new ally. The fact that the Comes had gladly stopped the briefing for the commander of 50 tattered frontier soldiers spoke for itself.
Klasewitz’ eyes were fixed on the map. It was an old Roman representation, in which the scales were not correct and distances between villages were recorded by marked lines. Important geographic features were also inserted, but their exact location was more estimation than in any way accurate. The nobleman was sure that Gratian had much better maps than his enemies. A small advantage, certainly, and Maximus had many men among them who knew the whole area very well. But the eternal suspicious and despicably cautious deserter didn’t like the fact that if his enemy had an advantage for which he couldn’t compensate.
His teeth clenched, and he drew his attention to the general who, with the description of the whole situation, continued where he had stopped before the interruption. Maximus had an excellent memory. He didn’t need any repetition.
“We are north of Nemetacum and will occupy the city without problems,” the general said. “The local military leaders have already agreed with to us in advance. From Nemetacum, we march toward Bagacum, as we want to join other border troops there. After that, we should go directly to Treveri, which is only a few days’ march away, even if we proceed slowly. I suggest that the troops should not be too exhausted. Our Alan allies have sent mounted scouts in all directions; they will warn us as soon as Gratian is moving.”
“What will he do?” Maximus asked the crucial question. “Malobaudes will try to persuade him to take a cautious approach so that we can win time and allies.”
In addition, weapons and ammunition, von Klasewitz added in his mind, as the cannon manufactory in Britain worked day and night on further guns, as well as on the production of black powder and cannon balls. They had to compensate not only for possible losses, but, if everything worked out, wanted to establish a second artillery company. Maximus had given precise orders for this. Two transport galleys were always ready to take the finished cannons across the English Channel. Every single gun could prove to be decisive in this war.
“Malobaudes won’t be lucky,” Andragathius said, shaking his head. “Gratian will be looking for a quick decision. He has the German soldiers on his side and is convinced that he is superior to us.”
“He could be right,” Maximus said. One had to give it to the Comes that he wasn’t inclined to the same chronic self-exaggeration under which von Klasewitz suffered – a knowledge that gave the German mental pain, and helped Maximus to plan realistic.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” the General said. “Gratian, as I see it, will seek an engagement under the command of Rheinberg, as fast as he can. This is an advantage, because the time-wanderer has no idea how to properly lead a big Roman army. He is a naval officer, and he lacks every experience.”
“He has Arbogast and Richomer by his side, possibly Theodosius and other experienced soldiers,” Maximus reminded him. “And we may all agree that despite this man’s disgraceful influence, he is not the one to deliberately ignore the advice of his comrades.”
“Then there would be the Emperor himself,” the General added. “He will nominally lead the army in order to instill loyalty into the remaining undecided units in his reach. There is nothing else left for him to do.”
“This is the smartest thing he can do,” Maximus said. “It’s also the greatest risk. For when Malobaudes kills him, the command structure of this army will collapse, and those units which have only opted recently for his side will come to us.”
“Then there remains Rheinberg.”
“Yes, that is indeed true. But he only enjoys his high office because he has the confidence of Gratian. The distrust in regard to his sudden career is great in those circles of the military administration who are otherwise loyal to the Emperor. Rheinberg’s legitimization is based on Gratian. Once Gratian is dead, this support is gone. He won’t be able to hold office just by himself. That is why we expect him to flee to his ship to Ravenna in such a case. Gratian’s army will then be finally dissolved. We can march freely.”
“But the East,” Andragathius recalled.
“The East is weak. I know the story of what happened in the time-wanderer’s past. At that time, I didn’t start my endeavor until years later. The East had time to recover from the invasion of the Goths. Theodosius could use the East to fight and finally defeat me. But he does not have this power any more – he or whoever will try. Aside from the remains left of Valens’s army, there are some freshly raised units, many of which put into the service before Rheinberg has abolished forced recruitment.”
Maximus paused. “By the way, one of the reforms of the time-wanderer I intend to keep.”
Andragathius didn’t interrupt him. His face didn’t reflect what he thought of this second praise for his opponent. He had known Maximus for many years and knew how to judge him.
“Then everything is said. We will certainly repeat this discussion one or the other time. I would like this exchange to be repeated after each further step so that we can discuss whether something has changed in our assessment. We mustn’t assume that our plans are perfect or remain invariable.”
The General wanted to reply, but was abruptly interrupted. Breathlessly, a messenger rushed into the tent. Maximus had given orders that if there were important news, he should be notified at any time of day or night.
The man was dust-covered and obviously an Alanian rider. One could see that he had a hard ride behind him. He bowed to the Comes, but Maximus waved his hand.
“Report.”
“Lord, Gratian’s legions. They departed from Treveri. They march directly toward our location.”
Maximus looked at the messenger for a moment, then nodded.
“As expected. He takes the direct path and wants the quick decision. So we have to work with the troops we’ve got so far. How far away are the legions of Gratian?”
The messenger looked uncertain. “If they march hard, they’ll be here in a week. But I don’t know if Gratian will spare his men.”
“He will, he will,” Maximus muttered, glancing at the map. Andragathius dismissed the messenger with a gesture.
“We’ll stick to our plan. We go to Bagacum. Gratian’s scouts will find us there, of course, and the Emperor will command his army to that same location. This is where the decisive battle will take place.”
Maximus pointed to the marked village with his forefinger.
“Bagacum, gentlemen, decides the fate of the Roman Empire – and therefore ours as well.”
Von Klasewitz stared at the point in front of Maximus’ finger and felt the rising nervousness, although the decisive battle was still many days away.
The Comes was right, of course. But what was more important than Rome and the insurgents was his own destiny. And Maximus had ju
st said it.
Von Klasewitz breathed a sigh of tension.
It was time for him to inspect his cannons again.
33
“He’ll be waiting for us at Bagacum.”
Rheinberg was dust-covered. It was a dry summer day, but not too hot. The way ahead of them was filthy, and the marching legionaries swirled dust. Rheinberg had stopped his horse beside Gratian’s beast. The Emperor, General Malobaudes, and Captain von Geeren, were resting at the side of the march, watching the seemingly endless stream of legionaries heading northwest like a worm.
Bagacum, Rheinberg could see from the map was in his time, the French city of Bavay. A very ancient city, originally the capital city of the Nervians, which under Roman rule had developed into an important junction in the province of Gallia Belgica, where many long-distance roads met. Rheinberg didn’t know anything else about the settlement. The city itself was not the most important. She could fall into the hands of Maximus. The fortifications were not large enough to defend an army like that of the insurgent, with their strong cavalry elements. Besides, the Comes didn’t want to hide. He, like Gratian and his master militium, had the intention of achieving a victory as fast and decisively as possible.
“We’ll pitch camp ten miles from Bagacum,” Gratian said, pointing to a place on the map. Malobaudes leaned over to look attentively. “There we have the well-cultivated fields around the city. A large, flat surface with few scenic features.”
“That’s not good,” von Geeren said. “My men don’t operate well in the open, where they are very vulnerable. I need a free field of fire but also good coverage. A forest, perhaps. Or a hill from which we can shoot. Solid buildings, which we can take as a base, especially for the installation of the MG-positions.”
Rheinberg nodded. The MGs would play a decisive role in this battle. Their placement was of central importance.
“Our map is not good enough to say anything about those issues. There will surely be some forest or a hill. We must, therefore, send out scouts as quickly as possible, in order to find such a position.”
“I’ll take care of it,” von Geeren said, guiding his horse aside, and rode away. A small section of specially trained Roman scouts had been attached to the German infantry. Von Geerens’s people had told the Romans how the most advanced modern weapons of the time-wanderers could be deployed, so they knew what they were looking for. It was the only task of these scouts to identify positions that were well suited for the MG-positions. Rheinberg knew this task in good hands.
“Equally important to us,” he continued, “is the question where Maximus and von Klasewitz will position their guns.”
They didn’t know how many pieces the mutineer had been able to produce under orders of Maximus. It couldn’t be many, but Rheinberg preferred to be pessimistic and decided on a significant number. For cannons, the same was true as for the machine guns, and to an even greater extent: Their position on the battlefield decided their effectiveness. In addition, they could be moved less quickly than the MGs and were therefore inflexible. Rheinberg was sure that the deserter had paid attention to this problem, and that the cannons were mobile enough to be relocated, although with some effort. The dry weather benefited their enemies: Transporting MGs into mud and dirt was still relatively easy, heavy cannons on wheeled vehicles would be unequally more problematic. A decent shower could also damage the powder. Rheinberg wished for plenty of rain. But any look into the bright blue sky, where no cloud could be seen, made this prospect very unrealistic.
“He will use his artillery like in the Napoleonic Wars,” Rheinberg muttered.
Gratian looked at him questioningly. Rheinberg tried to remember the lessons in military history during his officer’s training. Since he had taken a completely different career, these aspects had only been touched on. Von Klasewitz definitely knew his stuff better than he did.
“It also depends on how far the pieces can fire and with what cadence,” Rheinberg continued. This was understood by his comrades.
“That cannot be much,” Malobaudes said depreciatingly. “I mean, how much time did he have? And what resources were available in Britain? This can at best be inferior cannons, right? Probably not even a dozen, half of whom will explode during the battle!”
“That can be, but I wouldn’t underestimate von Klasewitz,” Rheinberg replied. “He has certainly subjected his cannons to extensive tests. He will not go to war with poor quality weapons. To this end, too much depends on him personally in regard to the outcome of this battle.”
Malobaudes waved his hand. “You are too pessimistic, General. It may be that the traitor understands his craft. And Maximus has allowed him leeway, fine. But all this on the economic basis of a single province and in secrecy! Not much could have been achieved. We have to adjust ourselves to some loud noise and with luck one or the other cannonball will hit something and provide for some confusion. But we Romans are accustomed to onagers and catapults, and the effect may not be much greater.”
“That’s right,” Rheinberg admitted. He wiped his forehead and took a sip of water. Although he was now quite capable with a horse, he found the movement on horseback still very tiring. He could also have used the Opel truck of the infantry, but that one stoof motionless as an object of observation in one of the training workshops of Johann Dahms – not least because the fuel supplies threatened to end.
Malobaudes stretched in his saddle. “Give me a determined cavalry unit, and we’ll eradicate these cannons at once. We ride down the gunners, and then these great inventions are no more than a bunch of useless metal.”
“Von Klasewitz will have been careful to protect the pieces against exactly this type of attack,” Rheinberg said.
Malobaudes snorted contemptuously.
“That may be. But a quick advance – and you won’t need a legion. I think we’re too afraid.”
Rheinberg didn’t know whether the old general was right or not. The cannons of the nobleman were an unknown quantity, and his own tendency to assess the risk as high had something to do with his relationship to von Klasewitz, whose sneakiness he had experienced many times. Possibly the assessment of Malobaudes, who knew exactly what modern weapons could accomplish, wasn’t wrong at all. Certainly, the mutineer didn’t provide the usurper with modern field howitzers, but at most cannons as they had been developed in the Middle Ages.
Rheinberg said goodbye to the Emperor and rode along the long lines of the legionaries. The men were focused on the march, and he was greeted only occasionally.
He greeted back and tried to spread a feeling of confidence he didn’t feel – and the worst was that he didn’t even know why he couldn’t master at least some optimism.
He hated it when dark premonitions plagued him.
34
“The situation is developing.”
Sedacius showed mental unrest, marched up and down in front of his officers. Secundus and Levantus gave Volkert a glance which the latter ignominiously ignored.
They were on their way to Ravenna and had made camp. Volkert had been surprised when he heard that Sedacius wanted to meet with some officers, though he had already reached Ravenna with the bulk of the troops. The small group of the recovered legionaries had been equally astonished when one morning Sedacius, with the centurions Levantus and Secundus, had appeared in order to hold a meeting with Volkert. Volkert himself had been unpleasantly surprised. In his eyes, he now occupied a position which didn’t correspond to his own sense of his importance.
The Tribune seemed to see that differently.
“Gratian marches toward Maximus. The battle will soon take place,” Sedacius had informed him. “Now that the two are engaged, it is time to take the next step in our plan.”
Volkert was not sure whether it really was “their” plan, as the goal was to make the Tribune an emperor. But he’d rather not contradict him.
“I used my contacts,” Sedacius continued. “At the moment, I cannot negotiate properly with those offic
ers of Gratian who are with him, so I concentrate on those who command the Eastern Army, as well as those who organize the second line of defense at Ravenna. I have found an open ear with some of the men, especially those who regard Maximus as a religious zealot, whose usurpation would be a great danger for the inner peace of the realm.”
Magnus Maximus, everyone knew, was a convinced, even ardent, defender of Trinitarian teaching. He would resolutely proceed against Arians, other Christian sects, and against the old state religion. This would inevitably lead to further unrest, possibly a permanent division of the Empire, as the East was largely Arian.
“I’ve thrown my dice,” Sedacius said, pausing for a moment in his movement. “I have assured everyone that I won’t touch the edict of tolerance, and that I am setting up a council for the purpose of the settlement of any Church divisions, with the aim to have a good agreement between the various factions.”
A task, as Volkert knew, in which Constantine the Great already had failed. But he kept it to himself. For Sedacius, it was important that he had been able to give the moderates the assurance that they would receive their support.
“The central question will be how Richomer will position itself. He is a faithful follower of Gratian. If Gratian fails, it is very unlikely that he will immediately join Maximus. He must look for an alternative.”
The Emperor's Men 4: Uprising Page 20