Sailing East, page 1
Sailing East
Peter Rhodan
Copyright © 2021 Peter Rhodan
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Art Painter
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
To Leanne - couldn't do it without you
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Afterword
Chapter 1
1172: The Imperial Palace Constantinopolis
Flavius Theodosius Iunior, by the grace of God, Augustus of the Eastern Half of the Roman Empire, who was soon to reach his majority, meaning he would be able to rule in his own right, slowly migrated to one of the arched window openings that ran along the front of the building looking out over the Propontis leaving the wrangling voices behind him. Of course, in practice, he doubted he would be allowed to rule in his own right even when he did achieve his majority. His sister Pulcheria and the Praetorian Praefect, Flavius Monaxius, would doubtless go on running things the way they wanted to until whenever as the man either retired or died a natural death. There was also a good possibility that he would be killed or captured by the Republicans during the next campaign season. Of course, a defeat by the Republicans would also see him overthrown as Emperor before he even had a chance to become Emperor! Sigh!
His sister and the Praetorian Praefect were arguing with each other about whether to attack the Republicans or hold back and let them do the attacking. This discussion had been ongoing for weeks; months even, ever since word came of the supposed death of his uncle Honorius and the total collapse of the Western Empire. The accounts they had received indicated that his uncle had commandeered a ship at Ravenna, loaded it with wagonloads of furniture and other valuables from the palace, before jumping aboard himself and setting sail with a small force of loyal troops and a few close friends. Not long after Honorius left the port another ship with most of the senior government officials and their families on board also set forth. The communication went on to report that the next day the second ship had run into a bad storm and the captain decided to flee north along the coast to shelter behind an island he knew was there which would offer them at least some protection from the prevailing winds. The ship had remained there sitting out the storm before continuing towards their destination on the third day. Honorius had previously sent word to Constantinopolis asking to be allowed to set up court in the old palace at Salona, but when the second ship finally arrived it found the initial force of servants that had been sent there earlier were busily organising the palace but there was no sign of Honorius or his ship. Despite the hiring of several local ships and crews to search for the missing vessel, no sign of the ship or his uncle had been found. The official conclusion of the search and rescue mission was that, presumably, the vessel had foundered in the storm they had encountered on the second day and sank leaving no trace.
Turning back to the court officials, after having studied the sea for a short time, he determined that the two Magister Militum Praesentali hovering near his sister were not at all concerned with who should be doing the attacking or defending. They appeared to be more concerned with the details of how and when the army would be re-equipped with the fire weapons the Republicans used. Samples of such weapons had been sent east by Honorius, or at least someone in his government had done so on his behalf some months ago, and copies were now being made, finally, here in the east. But it would take a long time before the army could be completely re-equipped. What was it he read in that old book? Oh yes, while Roma burned Nero fiddled. He had a dreadful feeling that things were proceeding very much in the same vein with the current crop of appointed officials who were ostensibly governing his half of the Empire and were proving themselves incapable of dealing with the sudden changes in the western half of the Empire with any alacrity.
The guns, as apparently the Republicans called them, were very loud, smelly, and intricate to make, although on the upside they were easy to learn how to use. The main argument amongst the military commanders was whether they should just be used to replace the bows and slings of the existing missile troop units or if the whole infantry force should adopt them as the Republicans had done. Plus, there was the question of whether to adopt the newer, far more effective, but also considerably more difficult to reproduce gun that the Agents En Rebus network had managed to purloin a month or so earlier. A metal works down in the city was managing to make enough copies by hand to re-arm the Canditari within another month or so, but trying to produce that design in huge quantities was reported to be a much harder task than the original model they had copied.
The missile troop formations of the Eastern Army were still being re-armed with the improved manuballista the Republicans had started using a few years ago which was a much better all-round weapon than the previously issued bows or slings, whilst all of the new guns that were being manufactured were going to the field army in Thrace as they would be the ones facing the Republicans the next spring. The main thrust of the argument was actually about how many troops could be spared from the current Asian Army to reinforce the army in Thrace.
There was also a sub-argument about how much of the army should even be re-armed, as it appeared that re-arming the entire force with guns had been of no benefit to the Western Army when they were confronted at the battle of Durocortorum. That single conflict alone had seen the Western Field army essentially cease to exist but the counter-argument was that they had been caught on the march, blocked in the front and then hit in the rear and flank in a manoeuvre that reminded Flavius of the account of the Battle of Lake Trasimene where Hannibal had crushed a Roman army similarly strung out in march column.
He had heard that one of the senior unit commanders who had escaped from the debacle would be in Constantinopolis in a week or so. He had been severely wounded during t the battle and was still struggling to travel as a result of his injuries, but he had managed to send a detailed account of the battle as he had remembered it. Hopefully, he could shed some further light on the disaster in person once he arrived. The Republicans had wasted no time in the new year and with the spring they had moved south in Gallia, defeating the few troops his uncle still had and reaching the borders of Italia whilst a second force had decisively smashed the Visigoths further to the west. Not taking much time to consolidate his gains, the accursed Arturo Sandus had crossed into Italia, personally leading a Republican army through the unresisting gates of Rome two months ago apparently.
According to the news sheet forwarded by one of the Agents en Rebus, the people of Rome celebrated the restoration of the Republic with a special festival lasting three days. The Republican news sheets were starting to turn up in larger numbers, brought east by traders, and both the Praetorian Praefect and several of the Vicarius' officers were concerned about the effect their distribution would have on the populace. Unfortunately, it appeared it would be an impossible task to enforce any ban that might be imposed on them so up until now no one had done anything to stop their circulation.
Flavius regularly received a copy of something called the Londinium Chronicle via one of his guardsmen whose cousin was a trader who regularly sailed to Hispania where he obtained the latest issues from the Republican traders. Admittedly, by the time they reached Flavius’ hands, they were already many weeks out of date, but they still made for interesting reading none the less. Having been brought up as a Christian, the religious equality the Republic was enforcing horrified him, but it seemed there was a groundswell of support for the measure, especially in the northern areas of the Empire, which had proven to be much stronger than anyone expected. The Bishop of Constantinopolis had been railing against the rise of heathenism in the Western half of the Empire under the Republic and kept calling for a war of liberation to restore the supremacy of the Christian Church, but given the current military situation, the high command seemed far more concerned with trying to hold onto the Eastern half of the Empire rather than planning to invade the West. Indeed, he had serious doubts as to their ability to stop the Republicans and their self-proclaimed crusade to restore the whole Empire to Republican rule. Given his maturity, his seniors had finally started keeping him better informed of political matters although they all still tended to talk either down to him or back and forth to each
Musing on the situation as he stared out to sea, he became aware of something away to the south which he finally decided must be a band of smoke on the far horizon. That’s odd, he thought to himself, not yet all that concerned. He continued to half-listen to his sister and the Praetorian Praefect re-visit the same old ground in their endless discussion and wondered idly where things would go. It was hard to believe the Western half of the Empire had collapsed so quickly but then, thinking about it some more, he realised the great Constantius the First had probably gained control of the Western half of the Empire in far less time than this Arturo Sandus, although Sandus was a foreign barbarian, not a Roman.
Flavius assumed the smoke trace he could see had to be coming off the land way down there and that it was only visible because of some strange wind condition, but as he watched he began to become convinced it was coming closer, or at least the fire was growing much larger or possibly both. He looked around but none of the nearby guards were ones he was comfortable with. He did not have a lot to do with the Domestici Equitates who were providing the men today but then one of the Candidati came into the room with a platter of food. Aurelius was a good man who had always been willing to offer advice and help to his young charge and in many ways, he was probably the closest thing to a real friend Flavius had. He had already determined that most of the young people he was allowed to mix with were more interested in the future benefits of their relationship to the young Emperor instead of offering genuine friendship to a rather lonely young man. Several hurtful experiences of confidences betrayed and overheard conversations of ways to manipulate him had engendered a large dose of cynicism in the young Emperor.
When Aurelius finally reached him there was only one rather bedraggled looking piece of cheese remaining on the platter. Flavius smiled and pointed out to the smoke on the horizon.
“See that smoke Aurelius?” he asked quietly.
The fellow peered at the dark smudge rising above the sea and nodded. “Yes, Dominus?”
‘Well, it is getting larger and coming closer.” Flavius commented.
Aurelius looked down at his young charge as if to scoff at the young man for seeming to be concerned with smoke that had to be coming off the land way to the south, but seeing the serious expression on the young man’s face he decided to give the matter further consideration. Looking out once again over the sea he could soon determine that the smoke was trailing away to the southeast which was just as it should do with the gentle but steady north-westerly breeze that was blowing.
“Shit!” He exclaimed as the realization hit him. The smoke couldn’t be blowing off the land to the south and then fanning northwards towards them over the sea, not with a breeze pushing it so obviously southeast.
“When did you first notice it?” He asked casually.
The young man shrugged. “Maybe half an hour ago, perhaps more. It was just a dark mark on the horizon at first and I didn’t pay any attention until it became obvious it was getting bigger or closer or both.”
Aurelius grunted in reply and they stood and watched for a bit. Aurelius became increasingly sure the smoke was both getting closer and growing in amount, although the growth could be an illusion if it was simply that whatever was burning was getting closer.
“Perhaps there is a ship on fire?” He offered by way of an explanation.
“That’s what I thought at first too, but if you look closely there is more than one dark source point. I think there are at least three that I can discern now.”
Aurelius studied the strange phenomenon once more and realised the boy was both right and had better eyesight than he did. Indeed, the more he looked the more he became concerned that there were many dark points from which the smoke was growing. Surely the sea could not be on fire?
“Stay here Dominus.” He said and walked over to where the Emperor’s sister and the Praetorian Praefect were now discussing how to counter the news sheets that were coming in from the West. After a moment they realised the Candidati was waiting to say something to them and they stopped their conferring.
“Honourable Praefect, I feel there is something you should see out at sea.” He said politely.
The man looked annoyed at the interruption but nodded all the same. “Aurelius isn’t it?”
“Sir.” Aurelius came to attention.
“And what do I need to see?” Monaxius asked, looking a bit peeved at the interruption.
“I am not sure sir. Smoke or something. But it is coming closer over the sea.”
“Coming closer over the sea. Are you daft man?” The Praefect looked annoyed now.
Flavius’s sister put her hand on the Praefect’s arm. “Let us take a look at what the man is referring to Monaxius.” Her cool voice calming the Praefect and after a moment he nodded reluctantly, and the two moved over to the balcony alongside the Emperor.
Her brother pointed out to sea as they reached him and he wasted no time getting to the point. “See out there? I can count ten separate sources of smoke now, Pulcheria. They are all moving over the sea and gradually getting closer.”
Pulcheria noticed the concern in her brother’s voice and looked out to sea intently. The smoke was a large, black or dark brown band trailing away to the southeast, apparently emerging from several points on the open sea south of them, although what was burning was still hidden from view below the horizon. She felt the Praefect tense beside her as he viewed the scene.
“What the…” He muttered, his annoyance with Aurelius clearly forgotten.
Flavius waved a hand out in the direction of the smoke. “I’ve been watching it for over an hour now. When I first noticed the smoke, it was just a smudge on the horizon and I thought the fire must have been on the peninsula down there, but now it is clear that the smoke must be on several ships, or something, sailing on the sea and getting nearer to us all the time.”
Noticing the Praefect and the Augusta’s interest in something they were viewing out to sea, others had started moving over to look for themselves. A buzz of conversation rose as various people discussed possible explanations for the smoke and its apparent ability to move upwind towards them over the water.
Aurelius had moved back next to young Flavius. “You know Dominus, considering the wind is blowing from the northwest and it’s clear that the smoke is being pushed southeast, then if the smoke is being caused by something burning aboard a group of ships, how are they sailing closer to us pretty much into the wind?” This was something Flavius was already puzzling over.
“Oh crap!” Someone said a little behind Flavius. He turned his head to see the Magister Officium staring out to sea with a very strange expression on his face, almost one of fear.
The Praefect turned to the man. “You know what it is?” He asked in a loud demanding manner. Flavius now witnessed the difference between a strong man with an army at his beck and call and another man with a position that was perhaps even more important, besides probably being the higher-ranked of the two, but who lacked any serious military force. The Magister Officium was easily intimidated by the overbearing military man despite having the household guard troops supposedly under his command. The Praefect dominated the whole room with his loud, abrasive personality. The Magister almost cringed and pointed out to sea.
“Republicans!” He breathed out dramatically, looking pale.
The Praefect turned to look again at the smoke. Whatever was making the smoke was still not visible. “You’re sure? How can you know at this distance?”
The Magister sighed. “You’ve all seen the two of those steam engine things we have managed to put together for use in the foundry in Nicomedia at the armory there, yes? Well, the Republicans have ones that run on metal rails, as I’m sure you’ve all heard and which we are trying to develop even as we speak, but they also have some onboard their ships. According to the report I received last month, the steam engine is used to power two big paddle wheels, one on each side of the ship. They are like the water wheels that we use except instead of the water being used to make them turn, the steam engine forces the wheels to turn, pushing the paddles through the water and propelling the ship forward. Even into the wind.”
