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  This was difficult for her, because the predominant emotion in her aimed to add blood from the idiot’s broken nose to his wine stains.

  “You are charming, honorable Lucia,” Martinus looked unsteadily and with watery eyes at Julia’s mother, while his thick lips twisted into a false smile.

  Lucia did not seem to recognize the hypocrisy of her future son. Eager to avoid a fate that would leave her daughter without family, money and influence, she returned the smile of the young man with her own falsity, and consequently they both piled layers of lies and deceit on each other until they formed such a dense mass that it could hardly be distinguished from reality. “Dear Martin, you’re too lenient with an old woman,” Lucia said and threw Claudia a grateful look. “A well-bred son you have there, my dear!”

  Claudia raised an intimidated look as if she couldn’t quite believe what has just been claimed about the completely misbegotten fruit of her loins. She tried a tentative smile and said nothing, the tense skeletal fingers woven into the folds of her gown.

  “What are your plans once we have married?” Lucia wanted to know from Martinus, who already threw longing looks toward the slave with the wine jug, though the young man had already emptied two well-filled goblets. That he, in spite of these amounts, didn’t show any deficits nor seemed to develop a particularly good mood worried Julia.

  “I … I shall be soon working in my father’s companies, I assume,” Martinus said a bit clumsily, like he didn’t really believe what he said. “My father has high hopes for the new economic reforms of the emperor. Trade will intensify, he says. I have to be ready, he says.”

  “And what do you say, my dear fiance,” Julia rasped her own licorice. “What are your ambitions, Martinus?” She smiled coquettishly. “I’m used to a good family and a certain standard. You know – clothing, jewelry, servants, amusements. Have you ever held games in the Circus Maximus?”

  Martinus looked slightly distressed at her, but struggled to maintain his composure. “Not yet,” he managed. “But our wedding should be the occasion to organize them.”

  Julia looked at Martinus in mock, but convincing indignation. “We are a Christian household! We disclaim games as a barbaric act and do not wish to be brought into connection with any!”

  Her tone left no doubt about her deep aversion, and Martinus blushed. Lucia threw her daughter a sharp look. She was little thrilled that the fiancee was willing to allow her future husband to run into her extended knife.

  But Julia decided to even turn the blade inside the wound. “You are also a Christian, Martinus?”

  “Sure, otherwise your father wouldn’t have agreed to it,” the young man replied somewhat more confidently and finally managed to bring himself to wave the slave with the wine. He rushed and filled the cup to the brim. As Martinus led the drink rather hurriedly to his mouth, he added to the existing stains some more. Julia smiled sweetly while Lucia apparently could barely control herself from not rolling her eyes. Her husband had his little vices, but his desires were focused on fine confection and to a lesser extent to wine.

  “I’m glad,” Julia said, smiling. “I take it to be very strange that you want to hold games. Killing animals and humans for general amusement is not worthy a deed for a Christian man. Maybe the deceitful followers of Arianus would do this. Your family are Arians?”

  Julia knew Martinus as only a pro forma Christian and someone who was certainly not discouraged by faith in pursuing numerous amusements. The prohibition of breaking a marriage would, it was said, make him particularly vulnerable. And that Marcellus, and thus his family, were Trinitarians was generally known, though the senator made no fuss about it. Unlike others of his coreligionists, especially Bishop Ambrosius, he wasn’t of the view that a dispute over a detail should throw the whole Church into turmoil. Martinus wasn’t aware of all of this. He turned red and sought desperately for a proper reply. To buy time, he took again to the wine.

  Of course, Lucia had to take that last bit of joy away from her daughter. “Don’t care, dear Martinus,” she cooed, throwing Julia a warning look, “it is not so important. The house of Marcellus is known for its tolerance, and instead of the games we would like to host a grand banquet, which is expected to meet all tastes.”

  Martinus smiled gratefully and waved an affirmative gesture. Julia was sure that every banquet was acceptable to him, as long as good wine was served in sufficient quantity. She saw the young man emptying his cup with one gulp and then licking his lips. No, she corrected herself, it would be also no problem if the wine was terrible.

  To distract herself from her impending fate, Julia let her gaze wander over the small crowd of invited guests. When she saw an old gentleman who despite his advanced age stood very upright and seemed to suffer from the petty gossip of society at least as much as she did, her face lit up again. Lucius Tellius Severus was not just an old general and a respected senator, he was a friend of the family of many years, and Julia had a received friendly welcome when she came to him with her concerns about the forcibly recruited Thomas Volkert. Yes, he even promised to look out for him, and maybe he had a ray of hope for her and was able to lighten the threatening clouds a bit. She apologized to her mother, gave Martinus an evil smile, whose deeper meaning the man obviously didn’t understand, and rose.

  Seemingly aimless, she wandered around the room until she came to a halt beside Severus, who, as her luck provided, now rested on a chair. His smile was the first genuine expression of emotion tonight, and already for that Julia was sincerely grateful to the old man.

  Therefore, she didn’t mind that Gunter, the dumb Germanic slave, joined them. Since Lucia had appointed him as watchdog of her daughter, he followed her every step. Since he knew virtually no Latin and spoke Greek only in pieces, Lucia could talk easily with the General.

  “Well, my young pigeon, you don’t seem to be very happy about the upcoming festivity,” he said to her.

  Julia just barely controlled herself not to spit on the floor very unladylike.

  But Severus understood how she felt and shook his head indulgently. “The young people don’t always understand the wisdom behind the decisions of the elders,” he said half-seriously, half ironically.

  Julia snorted.

  Severus wiggled warningly with his finger. “I didn’t say that the wisdom of the elders is always the right answer to all questions, lovely Julia. And I realize that a marriage with a miserable rascal as Martinus Caius will hardly seem to be wise.” He sighed. “I have big issues with this.”

  “It benefits the family,” Julia said stiffly but was pleased to have found a compassionate soul in Severus. “I have to consider only the well-being of my family. My own is less of concern.”

  Severus nodded. “The fate of many women. In your case it is particularly serious, since you’ve already lost your heart.”

  Julia hesitated, looked around cautiously. No one seemed to care that she was chatting with one of the guests of honor. However, it wasn’t apparent that this was more than just polite conversation. Then she moved on with her question.

  “Have you heard anything? Of Thomas? Where has he been abducted to?”

  Severus looked blamingly at the young woman. “Although I have my reservations against the practice of forced recruitment – it seems as if the time travelers want to limit it –, we shouldn’t condone that derogatory talk about necessary measures for the protection of the Empire. You too, dear Julia, enjoy the security that these ‘abductees’ guarantee for us all.”

  Julia didn’t want to argue with Severus and therefore abstained from an answer. Instead, she gave the old man a sugar-sweet smile to which he responded as desired.

  “I have made discreet inquiries. It seems that your Thomas has distinguished himself in battle and has been promoted.”

  Julia’s eyes sparkled. Yes, that was her lover! No notorious drunkard and wastrel, but someone who ex
celled even in a desperate situation. Her heart began to beat and she leaned forward. “Where is he?”

  “In Noricum. I don’t know exactly where, but I take the Legio II for the most probable location.”

  “Noricum?” Julia frowned and tried to remember the exact geography of the Roman Empire. Then her face lit up. “That’s not far!”

  Severus nodded hesitantly. “Reached in a few days with a fast horse; by cart it takes a little longer. My child, what are your plans?”

  Julia straightened herself up, as she wore a thoughtful expression.

  “Don’t run away again,” the old man warned with genuine concern in his voice. “Once, everyone will accept it as folly of youth, the second time may be regarded as an offence to the family. And this can have serious consequences. Not even I might be able to help.”

  Julia patted his hand. “Don’t worry, I know something better. Thank you, thank you so much!”

  She leaned forward and blew a kiss on the forehead of the old general, a gesture he enjoyed with closed eyes. Then she turned away, looked at her father and her future husband and drew a deep breath. It was time to put a plan into action.

  And this time, her mother would not stand in her way.

  4

  Many years before, in the future, Lieutenant Klaus von Geeren – no, Captain, as he had to remember, since he had taken the place of the fallen Becker – had some days off duty. Together with a comrade, he had gone to the old city of nearby Trier, the oldest urban settlement on German soil, for a nice outing. He had always been interested in history, and this passion would be quite satisfied there. The fact that he had at that time also a girlfriend in Trier may have also played a role.

  He remembered that he had stood one evening before the Porta Nigra, the “Black Gate,” the largest and best preserved building from Roman times. He had tried to imagine how it looked in the past – with the temples and baths, the forum and the mighty walls of the former imperial residence. Von Geeren took great effort to imagine this as realistic as possible and ultimately entered the building to get a feel for the history.

  Now he was part of this history, standing before the gate which in the future would become the Porta Nigra. It wasn’t a single monument but an integral part of the city’s fortifications, and black it was not: freshly painted, not weathered and darkened by a thousand years of continuous existence, the building with the large gate towered in front of him, and through it wandered a lively traffic of pedestrians. As in most Roman cities, Trier also banned carts during daytime not to burden the already narrow streets and alleys. Von Geeren knew well what that meant. His room in his otherwise very ordinary accommodation in a Roman barracks, where the bodyguard for the emperor was housed, opened its window to one of these streets. In the darkness of the night, the donkey carts rumbled over the pavement to supply the shops, the markets, and above all the imperial palace, which seemed to devour vast amounts of inventories. The noise and the shouting of the donkey driver, the squeaking of the wheels, the loud conversations, all this had disturbed the young infantry officer sometimes at night, at least until he had finally become used to this kind of background noise.

  He looked again up the gate building, saw the city militias, observing traffic through the open portal with sluggish interest, while their comrades downstairs sometimes stopped travelers to ask where they were staying and about their intentions. Generally, however, vigilance was not high, and the feeling of constant threat, this atmosphere of oppression, fear and almost hysterical desperation that he had experienced in Thessaloniki, didn’t prevail here. Sure, Germania with his troubled tribes wasn’t far, but the Emperor was in the city and with him the army of the West, camping outside the gates in two large field camps.

  The German went unmolested through the gate – he was known by now – and marched toward the imperial residence. He took the way often. Seldom did he found himself in front of the Porta Nigra to look at it in silence. The guards might think he was crazy and possibly were talking behind his back about this strange behavior. The infantryman was himself not entirely sure what actually drove him here. Perhaps it was because this gate gave testimony of all the centuries it will survive up to his own time, and it provided an immediate memory of his origin, which seemed to disappear out of his memory the more he got used to this century. Far from the Saarbrücken, the most important symbol of “home,” this city gate was his point of contact with the abyss of time and his own life before that fateful and mysterious journey. Perhaps he was coming back to make sure that it existed. The Porta Nigra was as much a time traveler as he himself, and he only paid a return visit to something he had visited in the 20th century.

  An old friend, so to speak.

  The young man with the lanky figure pushed the thought away. Before him, another event waited in the endless chain of meetings he had with the leading generals of the Empire, often in the presence of Gratian himself, acting on behalf of Rheinberg. It was about big plans against major threats. Today the commander of the East, the not yet proclaimed Emperor Theodosius, had arrived in Trier, interrupting the preparations of the campaign against the defiant Sarmatians. In the coming days also Rheinberg himself was expected to return. Von Geeren longed for this moment because while the discussions with professional Roman officers were quite refreshing, those endless conversations in the court of Rome, including all of their vagueness and hidden meaning, were tiresome. This place seemed like a snake pit and his complete lack of understanding of political intrigues had made him a guarded man, only saying what was essential, embarrassingly anxious not to remark anything wrong.

  And since he didn’t even knew what was right or wrong in most encounters, he rather preferred to say nothing.

  It took half an hour before he had penetrated the multiple layers of guards and courtiers and finally stood in the meeting room, which he had grown accustomed to in recent weeks. What he liked about this room the most was the large stone fireplace whose warm flames were very welcome given the winter temperatures. On the walls, carpets with numerous ornaments hung, which also kept the temperature in the room bearable. On the ground, strewn with mosaics, a mighty wooden table stood, on it spread out a new map of the Roman Empire. It was new because it had been made by the best cartographers of the Emperor on the basis of far more accurate material from the Saarbrücken. The Roman maps had not always possessed the right standards and distances, and although it had proved to be difficult to identify the exact position of some of the ancient towns in the German maps, they had made progress by identifying landmarks and working from there. And so the generals now had a large, in scale with reasonably reliable distances map not only of the Empire itself, but also of all the surrounding areas. As if this had not stunned the Romans, they had ingested the existence of America with great astonishment and some disbelief. For von Geeren, it had been surprising that they had neither been excited by the existence of India nor China, although had not been fully aware of the distances, for with both territories existed, albeit sometimes in a roundabout way, trade relations. But the two major American continental halves and the large extension of Africa to the south, as well as the existence of Australia, led to heated discussions. Some daring officers had even proposed equipping an expedition to America, now that they had these new oceangoing ships; von Geeren was sure that it would ferment and mature in the mind of many an adventurous man.

  And there, spanning the wall, an even larger version of this map hung, carefully drawn on finely tanned, light leather. On both maps were marks for troop locations and the names of neighboring kingdoms or peoples living there, entered accurately. Dominating on the map of the wooden table, was a large, red arrow: It symbolized the approach of the Huns to the extent it could be derived from the scientific material in Captain Rheinberg’s personal collection. And that was also the subject of this meeting.

  Present were the Generals Arbogast, Malobaudes and Theodosius, some less senior o
fficers who served as a kind of general staff, as well as scribes. At the request of von Geeren, an officer of the Eastern imperial forces, had joined as well. They had met him before Thessaloniki, and Gratian seemed to think the world of him. In fact, he was an important person in the plans that they developed, because it was Richomer and himself, von Geeren, who were supposed to organize the large scouting mission.

  Most of those present held a cup of warm wine in their hands. The highly diluted swill was allowed everywhere; a ban on alcohol wasn’t known here. Wine was the common drink, it was like water, only more harmless. Therefore von Geeren clutched with both hands a warm cup and was more pleased with the nicely tempered hands than the tolerably savory drink.

  Arbogast spoke the first words after everyone had gathered. “Well, let’s see where we stand. Tribune von Geeren, give us the current status. You have received news from Ravenna?”

  The officer nodded and walked over to the map. “The first of the new steamships will soon be ready. Three more are already commissioned, and the factory is busy day and night to produce steam engines, a process that still has its challenges. Nevertheless, the fleet that we need will be available in a few months.” Von Geeren pointed to the map and especially the red arrow. “I think that we have discussed various strategies and agree that we haven’t much choice. We need to stop the Huns and their onslaught against the borders of the Roman Empire.”

  “Our fleet will therefore, once prepared, embark some legions and bring them the west coast of Europe along the northern sea. Through a passage that we call the Denmark Strait, we then reach a large island called Rügen. This has never been occupied by Roman troops, therefore, it wasn’t known to you until recently. We should march the legions to the East from there, along the Baltic coast of Germania, after a hopefully successful landing. From the land side, we put the legions of Pannonia in march, so we can intercept the Hun’s advance in a pincer movement.” Von Geeren illustrated his remarks by moving small, colored pieces of wood, symbolizing Roman units, so that all those present were given a visual impression of the plan. “We will accompany this campaign with the German legionaries, because we need advanced weaponry for this endeavour, especially weapons with long range. Some of these technologies we are trying to adapt to local modes of production right now.”