Rheinberg looked at Dahms, as if he saw the engineer suddenly with different eyes. “You think far, and you think right,” he finally said. “I’ll give you a completely free hand in these projects. Concentrate on things of immediate benefit. I have only one important question: What about weapons technology?”
Dahms nodded gravely.
“This is currently our biggest challenge,” he admitted. “First, ammunition for our rifles or for naval guns is unrealistic for the foreseeable future. We can’t achieve that. The Saarbrücken still has enough in the bunker, which should suffice for a while, but our friends from the infantry have spent theirs pretty before Thessaloniki.”
“Alternatives?”
“I sat down with my men, and we have played with different scenarios. We have by now discussed it widely, and it’s ample time to think about implementation. What we can manage technically in the foreseeable future are muskets. The problem, however: The benefit to us actually is not so impressive. The range is limited, the loading speed unimpressive, and accuracy a horror. If I were, for example, an observant general of the Huns, I wouldn’t be too scared by a company of musketeers, and either ride them down or finish them with my own much more effective archers. Muskets make noise and perhaps frighten the benighted barbarians at the first clash, but after that every military leader with some brain matter would adapt. We have noticed that even against our effective weapons the Gothic leaders have started to adjust properly within their means. I would therefore advise against muskets. The expense would be considerable and the benefits limited.”
“So?”
“We can use steam power to build larger pieces – I’m thinking about a steam catapult, which could be good use for sea battles, but also for the defense of cities. The range could be increased and also the cadence, an improvement for sieges and sea battles. I have a few people already designing a prototype. Then there is gunpowder. The ingredients are all known, and we have access to resources. Pyrotechnist Thanfeld provides invaluable help here. We can quickly produce good quantities and simply use it as an explosive or as ammunition for catapults. Booby traps would be readily feasible and could support us in the defense of fortified positions. I’m also thinking of simple hand grenades, with which we could equip the legions. That would certainly have its effect on onrushing barbarians, when they expect only spears and arrows, and especially the cavalry will not like it, because the horse might do something crazy.”
“So no firearms?”
Dahms shrugged. “What we manage in any case, are handguns, something like the old dueling pistols – which were often made carefully and are not ineffective at close range. If you wish, I can plan for a workshop, but don’t expect great output, if the product is supposed to be of quality.”
“Keep it in mind,” Rheinberg said.
Dahms nodded, took out a pad and made a note. “What we can produce, of course, are cannons. But this requires, if we want them to endure and to fire relatively quickly, an important substance which is currently not yet available to us: steel. The Romans have a few very clever alloys, but no blast furnaces with which they could manufacture steel. We can’t work ourselves around steel. So we need to build blast furnaces. The simplest would be a puddling furnace, something achievable once the coal supply is secured. With steel, we can build more effective steam engines, with boilers withstanding higher pressures. So steel is high on my list.”
“And then cannons?”
“And then cannons. First without rolling runs and quite crude, but large pieces with a powerful caliber. If you have a dozen of them that you can move, lengthy sieges would be a thing of the past.”
Neumann cleared his throat. “Haven’t we make a mistake?”
“How?” Dahms asked.
“Our expected opponent in the future consists of victims and the cause of Völkerwanderung – that is, as the name suggests, migratory peoples. They normally break their teeth at Roman fortifications, and they don’t build their own. If my historical knowledge does not deceive me, even the dreaded Huns have never built mighty bulwarks that had to be overcome.”
Dahms and Rheinberg exchanged glances.
“That’s right,” Rheinberg finally conceded. “But we have to be honest: Some of the conflicts of the future will have the character of civil wars – Romans against Romans. The fact that Gratian currently supports us and Ambrosius and his friends have for now drawn the short straw is not something we can rely on. The fact that the historical Magnus Maximus has apparently called off his revolt against Gratian in our timeline doesn’t mean that there isn’t something cooking somewhere – especially when Gratian intends to realize his plan to dismiss Maximus and to summon him back to Ravenna. I’m even sorry to say this, but until further notice we’ll probably have to fight on two fronts.”
Neumann’s expression made obvious that this wasn’t a perspective that particularly cheered him. “So cannons,” he said dully.
“So it is,” Dahms confirmed. “But first steel. I don’t want bronze cannons that won’t help us much. Well, if we really need them, maybe.”
“But they are better than those of iron, especially as long as we don’t have standard ammunition,” Rheinberg pointed out. “Bronze cannons are more elastic, iron breaks easier.”
Dahms looked uncomfortable.
“I want the steel. And that brings us to the last major project.”
“And that is?”
“Communication. We have a beautiful radio telegraph system with us. It’s not good for much without remote stations and a corresponding network. I think that we can succeed to install wireless telegraph stations in central cities of the empire, where we can build small steam power plants in the future. The advantage that could be gained through lightning-fast communication, especially given the wide frontiers that must be defended, would be of high importance. But this requires a nationwide investment.”
“It’s an excellent idea,” Neumann said. “The fast riders of the present system are not bad, but radio telegrams from east to west, from north to south – that would help the empire tremendously, if only to regroup the troops properly in need.”
“This doesn’t make the troops themselves faster,” Dahms pointed out. “But once we have a steam engine production, we can build simple locomotives.”
Neumann looked at Dahms at half aghast, half excited.
“Now you give me the creeps, Mr. Marine Chief Engineer!”
Dahms smiled complacently. “That’s good,” was his only comment.
“We are continuing this conversation another time,” Rheinberg said, raising his hat in order to straighten his hair. “I see that there is currently a lot of work and you have the matter well in hand. I don’t know how long the current respite will last – up until somewhere something happens. So we should concentrate on work and achievable progress as long as we still have the rest to do so. I will not bother anyone, as I must soon return to the court because the Emperor asked for me.”
“Power politics for fun?” Dahms asked with a grin.
Rheinberg gave him a reproachful look. “Do you want to join me?”
The navy chief engineer made an all engulfing gesture.
“I would like to, Captain, but you can see for yourself …”
“Yeah …”
They stepped back into the open. Rheinberg looked in the direction of Ravenna, which loomed on the horizon. About 500 meters away he saw another building that looked like a factory.
“What is it?”
Dahms scratched his head.
“Yes, that’s … that’s none of ours.”
“Please elaborate.”
“Well, it is one of ours in a way … it’s … well, it’s the first private factory, which was initiated by our men. A collaboration with Roman businessmen, to be exact.”
Rheinberg smiled appreciatively. “That’s not bad! We need to make money anyway, so why not? So much of what we produce here we can later turn into hard cash! Who are the new entrepr
eneurs?”
“Köhler and Behrens,” Neumann answered.
Rheinberg grinned. He had already guessed. The two had been together almost continuously since returning from Greece when time and opportunity arose. “You know about it?” he asked the doctor.
“I get some of the production. For medical reasons.”
Rheinberg frowned his face, then understanding loomed.
“For medical reasons, yes?”
Neumann’s features remained deadly serious. Only his eyes sparkled with mischief. “For what else, Captain?”
Rheinberg decided to end the conversation at this point.
41
“It works.”
“Oh yes, it works.”
Köhler and Behrens looked meaningfully into each other’s eyes, before they sat back down again and looked at the taproom. The customers were numerous, and the looks of the men who sat at the tables and funneled German-Roman spirits from small cups were glassy. Orders were called across the room, and the barmaid balanced trays of bottles and cups through the crowd.
Lucius Vitellus, the owner of the inn, came up to the two men. He grinned over his unshaven face, wiped his hands on the grease-stained coat, and showed his teeth gaps.
Köhler and Behrens returned the grin. Lucius Vitellus was not just any innkeeper, he was their business partner, along with two other tavern owners in Ravenna. Together, they had raised the necessary capital and technical knowledge in order to build the first distillery of the Roman Empire. The miraculous transformation of mostly cheap wine in high-proof booze and its effect on the revelers who took a strong habituation had Vitellus and his friends quickly convinced. And the clientele of their establishments had understood that they could effectively and efficiently reach the state of drunken bliss they all ultimately strove for. The news of the new stuff had quickly made the rounds, and the first inquiries from Rome and Milan had the business partners enter into a partnership with a haulage contractor. Coopers had been commissioned to prepare suitable drums for trucks, with which the spirits could then be delivered to the surrounding towns. In the tavern itself, the strong drink was, like wine, poured into amphoras before being delivered to the taproom and stayed pleasantly cool. Only the rich could afford to import ice from the Alps to Ravenna in the summer, and before Dahms’ plans with the ice machine did work, they had to use more traditional ways of cooling.
If the demand continued to grow, the capacity of the first distillery close to the industrial center around the newly constructed port of the Saarbrücken wouldn’t suffice. Behrens and Köhler, whose private income grew steadily through this investment, already laid down plans to build more distilleries in Rome, where they expected the largest market for their product.
“Everything is proceeding quite outstandingly, dear friends!” Vitellus stated in deliberately slower articulation. Once the solidi rolled, language problems had suddenly played a large role. Behrens and Köhler devoted themselves with great zeal to Latin, and some of the distillery workers who felt a higher calling apparently began to learn German, which seemed at least so far to obtain the status of a language of science. Since many technical terms were only vaguely translated into Latin – the easiest were medical terms –, in many cases translation wasn’t even tried. And even old Vitellus, who was since the beginning of their cooperation of remarkably sunny disposition, had snapped up one or two words of German.
“Sit down, my friend,” Köhler said. The innkeeper didn’t hesitate. “You’re in a good mood!”
“I gave my wife a bag of gold and sent her to Rome, shopping. She was overjoyed and carried the children along. A heavenly peace now reigns in my house! I’m more than just grateful to you!”
Köhler nodded in understanding. Vitellus didn’t add the fact in his explanation that he now had the possibility to get warm with the barmaids with complete impunity. Indeed, the efforts of the two officers who insisted on reasonably acceptable and humane working conditions in the distillery and their application also in the associated taverns had not yet proven to be very successful. Once the loans that Vitellus and his friends had given the two Germans were paid off, Köhler and Behrens would be in a stronger negotiating position. Especially the older Köhler felt deep pity for the gaunt barmaids, rushed to exhaustion, of which most were not even slaves – what wouldn’t have made the conditions better. In fact, they already planned the opening of their own tavern, with much higher standards on so many levels.
They had muster some patience until then, but the more Vitellus and his family sold, the more the time would come when they would no longer be needed.
“That sounds good,” was Köhler’s standard answer to Vitellus’ euphoria, and also Behrens put up a good face. As the host apparently took advantage of the situation to test the quality of his new product very thoroughly himself, Vitellus was long gone sober. The fact that he still held himself more or less upright and was able to form coherent sentences was amazing. But it also showed apparently what kind of husband the rightly grouchy wife had been punished with.
Vitellus staggered back to the bar. In passing, he slapped a barmaid on the butt, a gesture taken by her with a stony expression in her face.
Behrens and Köhler looked at each other again.
“Soon,” the sergeant murmured, “soon we will change some things. By God, in our pub this won’t happen. And no slaves, not one. Better: We buy slaves as staff and then let them free immediately, with the offer of proper payment for further services. No slaves, I tell you.”
“No slaves,” Köhler confirmed.
“Some more things,” Behrens added. He looked around. “Quite a lot. We must do what we can.”
Köhler smiled. He put a hand on his business partner’s arm.
“This is already changing a lot, my friend. And more is to come.”
Register of persons
Agiwulf Gothic warrior
Ambrose of Milan Roman bishop
Andragathius Roman general
Arbogast Roman general
Aurelius Africanus Roman trierarch
Jonas Becker infantry officer and company commander
Peter Behrens infantry sergeant
Bilimer Gothic warrior
Börnsen NCO of the Saarbrücken
Brockmann Paramedic of the Saarbrücken
Caius Martinus son of a Roman businessman
Johann Dahms Chief Engineer of the Saarbrücken
Flavius Gratian Roman Emperor
Flavius Victor Roman general
Fritigern leader of the Goths
Godegisel Gothic nobleman
Dietrich Joergensen Officer of the Saarbrücken
Jovius Roman decurion
Julia daughter of Marcus Gaius Michellus
Harald Köhler NCO of the Saarbrücken
Klaus Langenhagen Officer of the Saarbrücken
Latinus Roman centurion
Lucia wife of Marcus Gaius Michellus
Lucius Tellius Severus Roman general in retirement
Magnus Maximus Governor of Britain
Malobaudes Roman general
Marcellus son of Marcus Necius
Marcus Flovius Renna Roman Navarch
Marcus Gaius Michellus Roman senator
Marcus Necius Roman Fischer
Marcus Tullius Salius Roman centurion
Nannienus Roman general
Dr. Hans Neumann ship’s doctor of the Saarbrücken
Odotheus Gothic warrior
Petronius Roman priest
Jan Rheinberg captain of the Saarbrücken
Rechiar Gothic warrior
Richomer Roman officer
Rufus Roman legionary
Joseph Schmitt crew member of the Saarbrücken
Secratus Roman officer
Simodes Roman legionary
Quintus Aurelius Symmachus Roman senator
Theodosius Roman noblema
Markus Tennberg Ensign of the Saarbrücken
Valens Roman Emperor
&n
bsp; Thomas Volkert Ensign of the Saarbrücken
Klaus von Geeren infantry officer and deputy company commander
Johann Freiherr von Klasewitz First Officer of the Saarbrücken
End notes
1 “The cock commands, love is made.”
2 “Horny son, with how many women have you done it properly?”
3 “Asshole!”
4 This is a reference to the Klabautermann , a traditional irreal entity in German sea-faring folk tales.
The Emperor's Men_2_Betrayal Page 26