The Gratianus had to be saved.
“Börnsen, bring us toward the Gratianus so we can have a better position for the rifles!”
“It’s damn tight here, Captain!”
“Signal the two steamers that they should take off. We’ll do it. Get ready.”
Börnsen confirmed the order with a doubtful expression. The officer ignored it.
Today was not the day he could please everyone.
Especially not himself.
17
Today was the big day.
How delicious that she was allowed to move freely on the island.
Julia was a decent actress. She started the morning a little earlier than usual, but with the normal routine. Claudia helped her. Julia had already issued the slave’s release certificate, but she needed her husband’s signature to make it final – or the ruling of a court or senior civil servant claiming overarching reasons to release the woman, reasons such as a heavy purse of gold in his hand. Julia had saved for this as well. It was high on her list.
During the last few days, she and Claudia had smuggled all sorts of valuables and some baggage into the city piece by piece and lodged it with a money lender for a fee. Many lenders maintained lockers in guarded homes where customers could store valuables. It was not a gigantic take, but it fed the man when the credit business was not going so well. It also helped his reputation by keeping other people’s money well protected. It created new clientele and triggered the circle of trust and demand that a good money lender lived on.
When Julia and Claudia were ready to travel, they cheerfully reported their intention to the major-domo of the house and declared that they wanted to do a little shopping in the city. Since the distance was not too far and not difficult, they turned down the donkey cart and walked. Claudia carried a small bundle with her – officially some of her garments that needed repairing – and Julia as well, containing all sorts of utensils to care for her daughter, which she had tied to her stomach and who commented on the whole expedition with occasional cries.
It was all quite innocent.
In the vicinity of the money lender’s office, the former legionary Racius would be waiting for them, already rewarded for his services with a generous advance, and ready with his own luggage. Together, they would take one of the first coastal sailors who’d started to sail off the islands after the end of winter, transporting merchandise and passengers. Once away from the island, they would go to Constantinople to start researching the whereabouts of Thomas Volkert. Julia had planned everything very carefully this time, which was also quite necessary. She knew that as a married woman she wouldn’t be forgiven for being caught running away. Her husband had the right to kill or disown her, and though she didn’t want to avoid in the former, she wanted to delay the latter as long as possible until she was safe and in a place where she was unknown and no one asked questions.
Racius would take care of her safety. Julia had talked to the man for a long time. He’d had an unspectacular but impeccable military career visiting every corner of the Empire. He had been dismissed in honor and had sold the land he had been given in gratitude for his services in Gaul to a latifundia owner to settle in warmer climate. The word as a travel companion for Julia was a welcome occasion for him to supplement his own savings by a considerable amount and then afterwards, as was his dream, to settle on one of the islands with a small tavern. Racius was relatively taciturn but by no means monosyllabic, and what he lacked in education he had in life experience. It was this self-assurance of a man who had already experienced everything and often escaped death that had taken him for Julia. He exuded an aura of both reliability and strength, making him exactly the traveling companion she had wished for.
They reached the area of the harbor in the morning, after a deliberately relaxed march along the dusty road. During that walk, they met some workers from the winery of their host, and they would only be able to report only the most harmless about the entertained chatter of the two women. It was necessary to maintain the illusion until the last possible time. Racius meanwhile had – hopefully – identified the right ship, booked a passage, and put a few coins to close the captain’s mouth long enough to avoid any damage.
When Julia and Claudia arrived at the quays, there was already a lot of activity. They worked their way through the hustle and bustle until they arrived in front of the money-lender’s office. The guard in front of the gate eyed her suspiciously but then recognized Julia and let her in without comment. The lender pretended to be pleased with their visit – in fact, he already knew that the young woman was planning to collect her fortune, which would bring him another bonus. Nevertheless, quite a solid businessman, he produced the coins and trinkets completely and in perfect condition and handed everything out without complaint. It took less than half an hour, then the two women, now loaded with a little more weight, stepped back into the street. Julia’s gaze wandered around searchingly for a moment, then she spotted Racius at the agreed place, just across from the money lender’s house. They met at a street corner.
“Is everything ready?” was Julia’s nervous question once they had finished the greeting. She had noticed the man’s slightly sorrowful look.
“Not quite, noble lady,” the former legionary replied. “The ship hasn’t arrived yet. I talked to the charging agent and booked the passage as agreed. But adverse winds delayed the arrival.”
“It should’ve arrived last night!” Julia mused. She hated it when uncontrollable influences thwarted her plans.
“The harbormaster said many ships were sheltering on a neighboring island when the night came,” Racius said. “That happens quite often. He told me our sailor was due in a few hours, as he left at dawn this morning.”
“Then we’ll wait,” Julia decided.
“I’m prepared for that,” the man said. “There’s a neat tavern near the harbor, not a bad dump. There we can see the movements on the wharf and at the same time spend the time reasonably comfortably.”
Without further discussion, the women followed Racius, who led them through the crowd. The tavern was on the first floor of a relatively tall building, and if they sat on the sea side, there was indeed a wonderful view of the harbor. There were relatively few ships on the way, but dockers set up barrows, and slaves gathered under the supervision of their foremen. It was obvious that everyone expected the early arrival of the sailors. Large barrels of wine had been laced on the quay wall, representing the bulk of the cargo that would leave the island. Julia breathed in the fresh breeze with full lungs and noted a growing desire to travel. Her daughter was fast asleep in her arms. The sea air apparently did her very good.
Two hours passed, then a mast was visible, and a large coastal sailor slid in the wind moving toward the harbor. In the distance two more ships became recognizable. The harbor became busy. Racius got up and pointed to the first ship, meanwhile single-mindedly approaching the wharf.
“That’s ours!” he said in an assured voice.
They left the tavern and joined the other onlookers and passengers on the quay wall, prevented by some rather bored-looking guards from getting too close to the water. The ship, apparently under expert guidance, drifted into the harbor basin and then the sails fell to slowly cover the remaining meters to the stone wall.
Julia suddenly felt Claudia’s hand on her arm. She looked at the slave, whose eyes were suddenly wide open.
“Mistress!” she whispered with suppressed excitement. “Look there!”
Julia’s eyes followed the outstretched hand of the woman, and then she felt ice-cold despite the warm clothes she was wearing. She let out a soft groan, like the sound of an animal feeling deep pain. Racius had not missed this, and he looked at her worriedly.
“Are you all right, Mistress?” he asked.
“No,” Julia replied hoarsely. “Not at all. See … the man there by the rail, ready to depart the ship?”
Racius squinted. “The fat man in the toga with the wine stains?�
��
Julia groaned a bit before she nodded. “That is my husband.”
Martinus Caius apparently couldn’t stand it anymore in Ravenna and had followed his wife.
A caring, faithful husband, one should think. Julia’s guess was rather that he had seized the first opportunity to escape under the pretext of work with which his father was sure to keep him busy.
He couldn’t have chosen a worse time.
Julia’s daughter opened her eyes, squinting at the sun, grimacing, and started to blare heartbreakingly.
Her mother couldn’t blame her.
18
Andragathius stared over the plain and licked his lips. It was a cool morning, and he was tired, had spent the night with his officers bent over the reports of his spies, arriving at close to hourly intervals. The picture they drew wasn’t very pleasing. On the one hand, their sudden advance had apparently not quite been what Theodosius’s army had counted on. Obviously, it was expected that the Emperor’s legions would wait for winter, only to resume war against the “counter-emperor” in the spring. On the other hand, it had provoked a reaction that Andragathius hadn’t expected, and this was giving him a headache.
On the plain lay a small village in the early fog. There were no lights or fire. Only those who had animals to care for would get up early, but those who had to wait for the land to be ready for the seed used the winter time to sleep a little longer than usual. The Magister Militium of Maximus wouldn’t begrudge them. His old bones also demanded sleep. But his perplexity had quickly turned to restlessness over time, and his effort to show subordinates that he knew exactly what he was doing, and to control everything was at least as tiring as the endless discussions.
And then always those expectant looks.
Yes, everyone gave his opinions and suggestions, sometimes simply to say anything at all. So much of it was chatter. Andragathius was willing to allow those who might really have something meaningful to say express themselves. In the end, however, everyone looked at him, awaiting the decision, the strategy, the perspective. Everything depended on him, in the absence of Maximus, who had traveled back to Ravenna to carry out conflicts of another kind on other fronts. The old general wasn’t jealous; he always preferred the camp to the palaces. But that didn’t make his current emotional state more pleasant.
He fiercely let out the inhaled air and looked morosely into the distance. Then he turned and stalked back toward the camp, respectfully followed by his bodyguard, who had accompanied him on this morning walk.
The distance wasn’t long, at least not long enough to really gain new insights in the time spent on the march – except, perhaps, that the cold had not dispelled the fatigue and that at that very moment a palace maybe had one or the other advantage compared to a general’s tent.
When he entered the very tent, he only unconsciously noticed someone lifting his heavy coat from his shoulder. He waved his hand when offered a cup of wine. That would only make him even more tired.
Legate Valerius, one of his closest confidants, who looked as exhausted as his master, was already waiting for him and nodded to Andragathius. “Scouts have returned,” he said, pointing to the paper-laden table in the middle of the tent. “It just confirms what we know anyway.”
“Theodosius doesn’t just want to dodge us, he really wants to leave Italy?” the General asked with the hopeless conclusion that the night’s conclusions hadn’t vanished at dawn.
Valerius nodded. “We have reports from the south. Ships are being built and existing ones requisitioned. We also suspect that Theodosius gets help from Africa. The provinces there have not yet declared themselves for us, which means that the other side still has sympathies there. The weather will prevent them from sending their own ships to Italy, but if Theodosius can even land part of the army in Africa, chances are high …”
“… that the African legions will join him,” Andragathius finished grimly. “But what ships do they want to sail with? The Mediterranean …They don’t build traditional Roman galleys or sailors. They build ships according to plans of the time-wanderers. None with steam engines, only sailors, but better for stormy weather, with new rigging, other sails, a keel …”
The General had informed himself. As the chief military strategist, he was keen to keep his army mobile at all times, and an all-weather sea-going ship for troop transport had sounded like a very attractive alternative to previous practice. Not even the steam engine was necessary to be able to compete with the wind and the current – a good sailing ship with experienced crew was able to counter the wind to a certain extent, even in high waves. Wasn’t it only logical to assume that the new ships commissioned by Theodosius would use these principles?
“Where are the ships being built?” he asked Valerius.
“We suspect the facilities in Misenum are being used,” he replied. “The city sided with Theodosius from the beginning. In addition, shipyards have probably become active in cities further south. We hear that wood reserves are being bought up and that gold is flowing.”
“Proper gold?” the mayor asked with a somewhat disbelieving undertone.
Valerius shook his head. “The counter-emperor issues bills of debt. He manages so far. There is a certain mood among the wealthier Romans, according to which the finances of the Empire are better off in the long-term with the ideas of the time-wanderers, and Theodosius might be the right one to keep them afloat.”
Andragathius didn’t say anything, especially since he knew that Maximus had retained many of the innovations of Rheinberg and Gratian in terms of taxes and labor market regulation, as he was quite aware of their purpose. This “certain mood” was therefore quite understandable, even to an opponent of the time-wanderers. Not even Ambrosius had objected to that – with the small exception of the reintroduced tax exemption of church property, which was immediately done at his insistence. As a result, Maximus had assured himself of the loyalty of a good part of the church leadership, an essential pillar of his claim to power.
“Then we have to act – we prevent Theodosius from leaving Italy,” the General decided, and when he said it, the order seemed so clear and logical that he wondered why he had not thought of it earlier. “We leave for Misenum. The city has nothing to oppose us. If Theodosius wants to stop us, he must seek the battle. If he doesn’t oppose us, he will not have enough ships to translate most of his army. Whatever happens, we have him where we want him.”
“What will the Emperor think about this plan?”
Andragathius nodded. “Well spoken, my friend. I will inform him at once and ask for the marching order. We don’t want to do anything without his consent.”
Valerius looked thoughtful, then smiled. He was one of the most eager to play it safe, and the old General had served his master long enough to understand that it was good to demonstrate loyalty openly. The chain of command had to remain clear and undoubted.
“We continue to send scouts to every corner of Italy – to every town that has even a small shipyard,” the old man ordered with renewed energy. “I want to be constantly informed what is going on. The men should restrain themselves, not be conspicuous, only observe. I don’t want even one of them to be picked up.”
“I’ll arrange for it.”
Andragathius sat heavily on a chair and closed his eyes. He felt that he now had the initiative again. Feeling good, it even erased the leaden fatigue for a moment.
“Shall I have the tent disassembled?” Valerius asked.
The General shook his head. “No, let it be the last. I’ll rest now. And tomorrow I want to lead a reconnaissance squad myself.”
Valerius looked doubtfully at the old man. “Sir, is that necessary?”
“I want it this way. I cannot always squat in the tent and make plans. I have to see things. I have to listen. Prepare everything.”
The Legate nodded and left the old General to give the orders.
Andragathius yawned, glanced at his bed and nodded to himself.
&nb
sp; He would find peace now, he was quite sure of that.
19
The man gasped again, gulping, then finally sank in the harbor water. Joergensen saw it more out of the corner of his eye, as he pulled another Roman sailor aboard the Saarbrücken with his last strength, literally clinging to the lifebelt he’d thrown to him. He raised his eyes, saw more shipwrecked people, recognized some fishing boats that had set out to help the men, and looked at the debris floating peacefully in the docks, remnants of the galleys that had faced the cruiser and for that courage – or rather that outright stupidity – had paid the ultimate price.
There were no more attacks from the sea. The Saarbrücken drifted in the middle of the harbor, in a strategic position, from here they dominated both the land and the sea side. The three steamers had reformed close to the bow of the cruiser in a line. The attempt to enter the Gratianus had failed, for when the guns of the Saarbrücken had reduced half the harbor to rubble and the same had been threateningly aimed at their own ship, the bravery of the attackers finally faded.
Of the several hundred soldiers on the quay, only a few were alive. The ruins of the rowing boats mingled with those of the galleys. Corpses and body parts floated in the water. The quay had been shot by several hits, and large impact craters had torn up the stone. Everywhere were dead and more than enough injured, with cruel wounds, usually torn by shrapnel or flying stones, wailing, with no hope of help. Nobody, except a few death-defying civilians who could no longer endure the whining, ventured into the reach of the cannons – not knowing that the Saarbrücken, if she wanted, could cover the entire urban area and burn half of Constantinople before her ammunition was depleted.
But now the weapons were silent. Joergensen dragged the half-drowned man away from the railing for a few meters, laid him on the deck, saw him breathing heavily and spitting out water, and covered his soaked body with a blanket. He was careful to look for weapons. Then he nodded to his people, who continued to fish shipwrecked people out of the harbor basin, and then walked with a stony expression on his face to the bridge where Börnsen waited and looked at him expectantly.
The Emperor Page 11