Under the veil of the prime meridian E-Book

Christian Berger

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 237

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Over the millennia, the determination of the prime meridian was not a question of power, but also a reflection of the limits of human imagination. Exemplary for the suffering, but also the joys, of the people who lived there, as well as their historical significance, individual places repeatedly emerge from the veil of history, bearing witness to the eventful destinies of some of humanity's greatest empires.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Dedication

Preface

Prologue

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 12

Epilogue

Source reference

Historical Personalities

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Dedication

For my grandfather

Raimund Kislinger

Preface

Do not let your mind be disturbed. All things must bend to nature.

And soon you will decay to nothing, like Hadrian and even the Great Augustus. Empires will come and go,

death and pestilence will prevail.

Marcus Aurelius

Prologue

Famadihana

Madagascar (15° 43’ S, 46° 19’ E)

In the year 2012

Annuratia, the Ombaysi of the village, took a white silk veil from the sacred cabinet in his house and blessed it with the smoke of evergreen leaves1. The smoke gave the fabric a pleasant scent. In his role as shaman of the village on the west coast of Madagascar, Annuratia was responsible for the spiritual well-being of the Foko, his village community. A "fady" had occurred. This breach of taboo was a serious offense. A young man had secretly met with a woman from the neighboring foko. They had mated on a grassy hill under the circles of a snake goshawk. The screeching of the hawk had unsettled the boy. He had come to Annuratia in a state of panic, believing that the ancestors had observed his transgression in the form of the snake hawk. A "fady" was the most serious crime in the foko and required a cleansing confrontation with the ancestors. The time had come for the young man to make contact with his ancestors in the form of a "razana." Annuratia focused his mind by placing three leaves of the sacred plant khat2  in his mouth and chewing them with his teeth until he felt their effect.

Only when complete clarity and openness reigned within him did he rise from his knees and step out of his house wearing the white veil. The entire village community had already gathered. In their midst stood the terrified young man. Annuratia wrapped the white veil around the young man's head and began to sing the sacred song of the Foko. Together, they made their way to the cemetery on the edge of the settlement, accompanied by the solemn voices of those present and the sounds of the valiha, a bamboo zither. Annuratia handed the boy a sacred shovel from Mahajanga, in the northwest of the island. The petrified wood was known far beyond its borders for its purple grain. After his grandfather's grave had been blessed with the smoke of evergreen, the young man began to uncover the mortal remains. Ten years after his death, only the bones of his ancestor remained as silent witnesses to his existence. The exhumation was accompanied by the constant monotonous singing of the Foko. The village elders played the sacred sounds on the bamboo zither. Annuratia wrapped the remains in a white veil and knelt beside him in a trance. The Razana could only be performed if he was one with the spirit of the deceased. Through rhythmic movements of his head, Annuratia entered a state of complete spiritual transcendence.

The East African sun was high in the sky and shone with unbearable intensity on the villagers present. The oppressive heat was intensified by the humid, muggy air. High in the sky, a hawk circled, announcing its presence with loud screeches. A snake writhed in its talons in a death struggle. Even the omnipresent lemurs, called "kattas" by the locals, had fallen silent. Suddenly, Annuratia paused and looked with wide eyes first at the sky and then at the gathered crowd. At that moment, the circling hawk let go of its prey and the snake fell to the ground. A murmur went through the assembled village community. Annuratia saw the omen and bowed his head in humility. A gentle breeze announced his return from another world. He opened his palms, signaling as "Tompon 'ny lambantatana," master of the hollow hand, that the "Razana" had been completed. The ancestors had spoken to him. Then, with complete mental clarity, he whispered the redeeming words: "Famadihana!"

The time for reburial had come. The mortal remains of the deceased were carried by four men and transferred to their new grave. This had previously been cleaned with evergreen leaves. After the body had been carefully laid to rest, Annuratia covered it with another silk veil and instructed the young man to complete the burial. Completely exhausted from the sacred ritual, Annuratia knelt beside the grave and finally sang the Foko's song of reconciliation. The relieved village community celebrated the reconciliation with their ancestors with cheers.

It would not be the last.

1 "Cantharanus roseus," the evergreen of the island of Madagascar, contains alkaloids that protect against malaria.

2 Chewing the leaves of Catha edulis is widespread in the Middle East and East Africa. The leaves of the plant contain the substance cathine, which is closely related to amphetamines. Madagascar was mainly settled by Austronesian Asians and East Africans around 2,500 years ago. The term "fady" is comparable to the Polynesian word "taboo." The plague did not reach Madagascar until 1850. The ritual of reburial is an essential part of the millennia-old culture of the Madagascans. Both the architecture of Madagascar, similar to that of Borneo, and the language and the valiha testify to the Austronesian roots of the indigenous people. According to the WHO, there were 275 deaths from the plague worldwide in 2015, 63 of them in Madagascar alone. This fact is probably due to the ritual of reburial. On average, a "Famadihana" takes place every ten years, depending on the spiritual guidelines of the responsible "Ombayasi."

Chapter 1

The villa (48°18' N, 16° 20' E)

in the year 180 AD

Gaius Flavius Accipiter looked west and saw a huge black storm cloud gathering. The nickname "Accipiter, the hawk" was a reference made by his parents when he was a child to their son's keen eyesight. After a long, hard winter, it was unusually cold for mid-March. The vines in his vineyards were still dormant. A bird of prey with a long tail circled in the sky in search of prey. The pale light of the sun illuminated Mons Zibethicus on the opposite side of the Danube River. In between lay a floodplain forest where Gaius often went hunting in the fall. In addition to small game, the forest was a refuge for beavers and wild boars. Gaius followed the circling flight of the bird of prey and wondered why the emperor had chosen his villa as his quarters. As the brother-in-law of Titus Germanicus, the governor of the Vindobona garrison, Gaius was a leading figure in the province of Pannonia Superior. "But an emperor visiting his humble home?"

"Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere," thought Gaius.3

Marcus Aurelius had arrived in Vindobona just a week earlier after completing the "Expeditio Germanica secunda." The campaign had lasted three years and ended in victory, but not with the complete subjugation of the rebellious Marcomanni and Quadi. The emperor was weakened by the hardships of the campaign and had instructed Titus Germanicus to find a residence befitting his rank. Gaius' villa was located north of the Vindobona garrison, about a day's march away. The main force of the northern army was stationed in the garrisons of Carnuntum and Sirmium. Titus Germanicus had agreed with Marcus Valerius Maximianus to offer the property to the emperor as a temporary residence. Marcus Maximianus, the tribune of Legio II Adiutrix, himself born in the province of Pannonia, formerly known as Illyricum inferius, knew the advantages of the landscape. Clean water, good wine, and seclusion from the troops. Since the campaign against the Parthians fifteen years earlier, the plague had spread among the Roman soldiers. This threat had to be kept away from the emperor at all costs.

Gaius was suddenly interrupted in his thoughts by loud shouting. Drusus, his Maior Domus, ran toward him, gesticulating wildly. "Master, master, the hypocaust boiler4  is broken, we can no longer heat the house. The emperor is freezing. Commodus is beside himself with rage."

"Get the cauldrons from the wine cellar and bring them to the villa!" ordered Gaius. "Yes, sir," replied Drusus. Both ran down the slopes of Mons Fugis and finally arrived in the cellar of the villa. Drusus instructed the slaves to fetch the bronze boilers. After the boilers had been filled with water, the Maior Domus ordered four slaves to continuously fan the pipe system with wooden fans. Only when Gaius was sure that the heating was working again did he run up the stone steps and look up at the sky. Through the arcades of the atrium , scattered snowflakes made their way down and lay on the frozen ground. Titus Germanicus came up to him excitedly and confronted his brother-in-law. "After the hardships of the expedition, the emperor of the empire deserves a warm home, and you can't even provide the lord of 1,000 lands with a warm place to sleep!" "The problem is solved, my brother-in-law. How is our emperor?" "Come and see for yourself. He wants to meet you!"

Gaius and Titus crossed the peristyle, the colonnaded courtyard, and opened the door to the most spacious cubiculum in the villa. Marcus Aurelius lay in the bedroom in a large bed covered by a canopy. "How small and vulnerable he looks," thought Gaius. Above the bed, the insignia of power were emblazoned in golden colors: SPQR, "Senatus populusque romanorum."5  The emperor was writhing in pain. The otherwise rosy color of his face had given way to  a pale pallor. Favola, the emperor's favorite slave, was busy washing his body. She removed the excrement from his subligaculum and showed it to the emperor's personal physician. Flavius Haemostypticos took a bronze bowl and went into the villa's tabulinum. Favola accompanied him with a worried expression. By the light of an oil lamp, the physician examined the emperor's excrement. The feces in the patera were pitch black and smelled abominable. "Melaena"6 , murmured Flavius, motioning to Favola to follow him into the kitchen.

"Prepare him a decoction of mandrake and rushes!" Then Flavius Haemostypticus took a glass vial and poured a few drops of its contents into the bronze cup. "What is that?" asked Favola. "Papaveris lacrimae7, it will ease his pain," replied the personal physician.

Flavius remembered his time serving on the front lines fighting the Germanic tribes. He had earned the nickname "Haemostypticus" because of his ability to cauterize severed limbs with a plate-shaped branding iron he had designed himself, preventing the soldiers from bleeding to death or later dying of gangrene. The contents of the bronze patera caused him deep concern. As a student of the great Galen, he knew the significance of the symptoms the emperor was exhibiting. His death was only a matter of time.

"How much longer, Flavius?" asked Commodus, the emperor's son, who had approached him unnoticed. "We must consult the oracle," replied Flavius. "I need a goose, only then can I perform a divination according to the rules of the haruspices." Commodus ordered Gaius to fetch a goose from the poultry yard. "Very well, my lord," he replied, assigning Drusus the task of finding a suitable specimen. After what seemed like an eternity, the Maior Domus returned with a bird. Flavius Haemostypticus decapitated the animal and opened its body in a golden patera. "The liver is fatty and degenerated, which is not a clear sign, but what worries me is the entanglement of the intestines," said Flavius with a serious expression. "Further symptoms will follow."

"How will it end?" asked Commodus anxiously.

"With tears and a journey to the afterlife," replied the personal physician hesitantly. "The gods will decide between Orcus and Elysium." With these words, Commodus ended the autopsy. Gaius took a step back and looked at the disemboweled animal. Then he instructed Drusus to burn the carcass8. Commodus thanked Flavius for his prognosis and retired to his chambers.

The following night, Marcus Aurelius's ordeal began. At first, it was only a slight relief of saliva into the bronze patera that Favola handed to the emperor, but his nausea intensified. Favola woke Flavius Haemostypticus with the words: "Come quickly, my lord, the emperor is dying." Flavius rushed to the emperor's bed and, after a brief moment of shock, felt the emperor's abdomen. It was rock hard and Marcus Aurelius was writhing in pain. "Quick, give me a cup," Flavius ordered the slave girl. He administered another dose of "Papaveris lacrimae" to the almost unconscious emperor. Marcus Aurelius vomited violently at that moment, and Flavius could see from the vomit that it was feces. "Wake Commodus, Gaius, and Titus Germanicus," he ordered Favola. Minutes later, those summoned were in the cubiculum.

"Miserere habet" 9 , said Flavius in a serious voice, "the harbingers of imminent death."

Flavius Haempstypticus took the emperor's tongue in his left hand and tried to clear the emperor's airways with his right hand. Marcus Aurelius writhed in his bed. His entire body cramped up and his eyes bulged unnaturally from his skull. Only the combined strength of those present was able to restrain him. Shortly thereafter, Marcus Aurelius lost consciousness. "Help me sit him up," he ordered Porticus and Favola. Flavius struck the dying man several times on the back of his chest to remove the deadly black bile from his airways. After one last spurt of vomit, Marcus Aurelius suddenly opened his eyes and lowered his gaze to Porticus, his servant. Porticus was a giant of a man. With his bald head and muscular arms, he resembled a gladiator. The gap between his front teeth gave his face a hint of gentleness, especially when he smiled. In all his years of triumph, it had been his duty, according to the teachings of Stoicism, to remind the emperor of his mortality in the intoxicating moments of bathing in the crowd with the words, "You are only human." Commodus and Titus looked down at the emperor's almost lifeless body, and with his last breath, the emperor closed his eyes and left the worries of the world and the empire behind him.

"The emperor is dead," said Titus, turning to Commodus. An almost oppressive silence filled the room. Titus Germanicus bowed his head and knelt before Commodus. Then he took the co-emperor's right hand and kissed it three times.

"Hail, Caesar, may the gods bless you." Gaius Flavius Accipiter followed suit. "You may leave," Commodus said to those present in the room. "I want to say goodbye to my father alone." Gaius and Titus withdrew to the writing room of the villa. Favola handed them both a cup of wine and withdrew diligently. Drusus, the Maior Domus, was summoned and instructed to spread the news of the emperor's death throughout the villa. After a short time, Commodus appeared in the tabulinum. "It is time to inform the empire," he said in a broken voice. In tears, Commodus dictated his father's obituary to his scribe.

"Lament with me, my brothers! Our great father has passed away. Marcus Aurelius Antonius was not only our sovereign Caesar, but also a moral example for all citizens of the empire. He was a prudent philosopher and a great military commander who expanded the empire to the north. Rest assured, my brothers, I will continue to rule the empire in his spirit and act according to his principles in all decisions."

After the scribe had completed two copies, Commodus signed the documents with his name and used the title Augustus for the first time, signifying that he was now the sole emperor of the empire. After the letters had been sealed with carmine-red wax and his personal seal, they were handed over to the captain of the Praetorian Guard.

The garrisons of Vindobona, Carnuntum, and Sirmium, where the entire northern army was stationed, were to receive the news first. The second letter was intended for the Senate in Rome. After the official business had been completed, everyone retired for the night. Gaius Accipiter lay wide awake in his bed. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind. The dramatic demise of the emperor and the manner in which he had died. "A bad omen," thought Gaius. "Hopefully, peace will return to my house after the solemn ceremonies."

On the night of the emperor's death, Favola was tasked by Commodus with washing the emperor's body and embalming it according to the law. In tears, Porticus and Favola cleaned their master's remains and dressed them in the finest toga. The belt of the burial robe was set with pure gold. Favola placed the emperor's hands crossed over his abdomen and kissed her master's hands for the last time. Then she covered her head with a ricinium, the black veil of mourners, and left the cubiculum. Porticus refused to leave his master's side. The leadership style with which Marcus Aurelius had ruled the empire, the profound writings, the aphorisms in the Meditations, the emperor's main philosophical work, in which he reflected on himself and the world, and not least the way in which he had always treated him, Porticus, with the greatest esteem and respect, sparked a wave of grief in him. Only now did Porticus understand the emperor's intention in choosing him as a constant reminder of his own mortality. The world had lost a great man, but Porticus had lost a fatherly mentor and friend. That very night, he decided to ask Commodus for a most extraordinary favor.

Carnuntum (48° 6' 53" N, 16° 51' 57" E)

in the year 180 AD.

An icy wind blew from the north and scattered snowflakes landed on the tribune's armor. Marcus Valerius Maximianus inspected the troops that had been sent from the province of Norica to assist in the fight against the Germanic tribes. A total of five cohorts had been transferred to the east to provide support. The quality of the troops' swords was of particular interest. Commodus had personally complained to Marcus Valerius, commander-in-chief of the northern army, about deficiencies in the soldiers' equipment. The pilum, a light spear, was the most effective weapon at close range, yet the Roman troops were unable to pierce the shields of the Germanic tribes. The province of Norica was famous beyond its borders for the hardness of the steel produced there. 11

Marcus Valerius looked up at the sky and knew instinctively that storm clouds were gathering. The troops were weakened by the long campaign and all its hardships, and the plague was spreading through the camp. Even before the emperor's arrival, he had had the seriously ill victims of the plague taken to Sirmium in the east. "If only Flavius Haemostypticus were at his side," thought the tribune. In all the years of war, he had always proved himself a loyal and competent advisor on medical matters. He was also an entertaining companion and could hold his drink. They had often spent the long, cold nights in the forests of Germania sitting around an open fire, discussing strategies of warfare, but also, on occasion, the beauty of Roman women. Now forty thousand men were camped under his command. The true art of war was not limited to victory in battle, but also included the provision and care of the troops. Marcus Valerius Maximianus was startled out of his thoughts by a familiar voice.

"Tribune, my lord, greetings." The man sitting on an ox cart was none other than Publius Drystanus, a Celt from a village deep in the mountains of the province of Norica. Next to him sat his wife Moja. Her fiery red hair had lost none of its luster. Marcus Valerius and Drystanus had been friends for many years. Whenever his duties in the northern army allowed, Marcus escaped the hot summers of the eastern steppes and visited Drystanus in his homeland. His village lay in the middle of a mountain lake. On clear, windless days, the jagged peak of the nearby glacier was reflected on its surface. Drystanus was a respected man in his village. He owned several salt works that produced excellent rock salt. When they set out for the hunt in the morning, the miners were already deep in the shafts of the salt mountain, extracting the white gold. With their heavy iron axes, they cut shafts into the mountain and supported them with heavy wooden beams. The rock salt was broken out of the mountain by cutting deep parallel grooves and then transported to the surface in wool sacks via the shafts and steps12. The village had  been a bustling trading center for centuries and its goods were traded as far as the Baltic Sea in exchange for amber.

"What brings you to Carnuntum?" asked Marcus Valerius. "I'm bringing supplies for your troops. One wagonload of salted meat and one load of the finest quality salt." "We can use that urgently," replied the tribune. "Come, let me embrace you, my friend." Drystanus swung his corpulent body down from the driver's seat and greeted Marcus with a hearty laugh. "How are the children, Moja?" asked the tribune. "They're fine, thank you for asking, Tribune. They're growing and thriving, but they're almost impossible to feed." "No wonder, with a father like you," replied Marcus, giving his counterpart a gentle punch on the stomach. "Deliver your goods to the treasurer, he will surely provide you with a few tremissis13." "Pecunia non olet," replied Drystanus with a broad grin. "Meet me in my tent this evening, we have much to discuss," said the tribune.

Drystanus carried the smoked leg of a wild boar when he entered the tribune's tent. The air in the room was thick with the scent of incense. Next to the table stood a stone bust of the emperor. Drystanus put down the linen bag and washed his hands in a bronze basin whose contents smelled of roses and rosemary. "With warm greetings from my homeland, it is well preserved and should be to your taste." "Thank you, my friend, come and sit with me." Marcus handed his friend a cup of wine. He sipped the drink and pursed his lips in appreciation. "How did the campaign go?" asked Drystanus. "We have put the rebellious Germanic tribes in their place for the second time in seven years, but they have not yet been completely subjugated. The men are weakened by battle and disease, but their will to win remains unbroken. Everything depends on what the emperor decides. In my opinion, complete subjugation in the sense of a "debellatio" would be the best solution. We should end this conflict, which has been smoldering for years, once and for all. I am tired of spending long, dark winters in the forests of Germania." No sooner had he spoken these words than one of his adjutants rushed into the tent. "An urgent message from Vindobona, Tribune." Marcus Valerius Maximianus rose from his chair and examined the letter. He looked at the seal by the light of an oil lamp. "This letter does not bear the emperor's seal," he muttered. A most unpleasant thought began to form in his mind. "That is the seal of Commodus." Marcus took his dagger and broke the seal. As he read the lines, his mind was flooded with fears and possible consequences. Distraught, he looked up and ordered his aide: "Saddle my fastest horse and assemble a personal escort of 50 men with torches. We must leave for Vindobona immediately!"

"Marcus Aurelius is dead!"

After three days of mourning, the emperor's final journey began. Commodus had ordered that the body be taken to Vindobona. The loyal soldiers of Legio II Adiutrix, who had distinguished themselves through their bravery in battle against the Marcomanni and Quadi, were to see their supreme commander one last time before he was consigned to the flames. The entire staff of the villa was gathered as Marcus Aurelius was carried through the peristyle by servants into the open air. He rested on a golden bier. After the frost of the last few days, the sun shone for the first time. The emperor was dressed in a pure white toga. The pain had left his face and he gave the impression of a person sleeping peacefully. Commodus, Titus, and Gaius followed the dead emperor. In accordance with custom, they wore black togas so that even in death, the emperor stood out from the crowd. According to tradition, the emperor's bodyguards took on the task of accompanying him on his final journey. The Praetorians were dressed in full armor. At Commodus' command, three of the bodyguards stepped forward and took up the bier. It had golden handles at each of its four corners, causing general confusion as to how three men could carry it. At a nod from the new emperor, Porticus squeezed his way through the line of soldiers and took the front right corner of the bier. A murmur went through the assembled crowd. A slave as a member of an imperial procession was highly unusual. Commodus ignored the general astonishment and ordered the funeral procession to set off. From the hill on which the villa stood, the road led down to the banks of the river. The procession moved slowly and finally reached a small harbor in a valley between two mountains. The elevations in the north of Vindobona were of great strategic importance for the defense of the garrison, as they offered a view far into enemy territory. A small fleet of river boats was already waiting for the arrival of the dead emperor. Marcus Aurelius was to complete the last stage of his journey on the mighty Danube, whose northern inhabitants he had fought with sudden severity in two expeditions over seven years. Once all the ships were loaded, they were driven south by the current of the Danube. At that time of year, the river carried little water, and the rising west wind made the water glisten in an almost maritime dark blue. At that time of year, the river carried little water, and the rising west wind made the water glisten in an almost maritime dark blue. Under the gentle stroke of the oars, the procession finally reached the port of Vindobona. The entire Legio II Adiutrix was in full armor to accompany their emperor on the last few meters into the heart of the city. After passing the two stone protective walls, Porticus and the Praetorians carried the emperor's bier to a large pyre that had been erected on the Agora. The wooden structure was a replica of a reclining rostrum, the speaker's platform in the Roman Senate. Marcus Valerius Maximianus greeted Commodus and kissed his right hand as a sign of submission. "Hail, Caesar, it pains me that we meet again under such sad circumstances." "Thank you for your expression of sympathy, Tribune Maximianus," replied Commodus. Now the official funeral ceremony began. Torches were lit at all four corners of the pyre, and the temple priests circled the funeral pyre with bronze vessels containing incense and myrrh. Porticus and the Praetorians climbed onto the wooden structure and laid the emperor in his bier for his final rest. While the other bearers immediately withdrew, Porticus remained kneeling before his master's bier for a short time. Only when he left in tears were the fires under the wood lit. Within moments, the entire pyre was ablaze and the tongues of flame rose into the sky. The emperor's mortal remains rose into the sky in the wake of the flames. Commodus and all the soldiers present bowed their heads in respect, and the priests recited the sacred prayers. Only when the conflagration had subsided did those present dare to look at the funeral pyre. Only a few embers remained, testifying that the most powerful human being of his time had found eternal rest here. Porticus thought of the words he had to repeat on behalf of Marcus Aurelius: You are only human. A final thought rose from the depths of his soul: "Truly, he was only human, but in his actions he could measure himself against the gods."

After the cremation, Marcus Maximianus was summoned to the city command post. Commodus, Titus Germanicus, and several Praetorians had gathered in front of the fireplace in the glow of the fire. "Enter, Tribune," said Commodus. "My father has not made a clear statement on the question of continuing the war in recent weeks. What is your opinion, Marcus?" "The troops are weakened by the long struggle and the outbreak of the plague, but their will to victory is unbroken. As you know, reinforcements have arrived from the province of Norica. We are therefore once again ready for action at full strength."