The Amber Room by
H D Evans
Published by Pipeline
Š Hugh Evans 01 November 2011 & 20 August 2012
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Everything is about control; once you understand, then you have a chance.
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Chapter 1
SPRING
Castrum Mogontiacum From the Journal of Marcus Aurelius Cross quarter day AD60: 1st May
���������� ����������� Marcus Aurelius strode purposefully across the parade ground, the gold adorned thongs on his bronzed battle dress glinting in the sun, swaying in harmony with each step, his hand on the heel of his sword, Gladius 'Espanium' and his eyes fixed on the prisoners' compound. The noisy camp was much more than a frontier outpost and had grown quickly over the last few decades. It was a fortified city; the walls were made out of stone and were too high to scale and too thick to breach by any but a modern siege army, and the only siege army in the world, was the one in which he was a senior officer. “Centurion Haledes,” he shouted towards the clangs and the cries. The Roman Empire had waxed and waned along the frontier with Germania for many Caesars. As the most sophisticated civilisation on earth, there was little value in thousands more acres of forests and the subjugation of near Stone Age disparate tribesfolk who practised very unpleasant forms of uncivilisation and guerrilla warfare. Marcus Aurelius mused that there were enough enemies in Rome and sufficient forests in Italy, Gaul and elsewhere to satisfy the one hundred legion army and the navy for as many years as any would imagine. There was no grain, the Empire currency, in Magna Germania: even the eagle grasping lighting bolts on the Roman standard was wreathed in the wealth of wheat. He remembered his cousin Felix, a Roman Quaestors, Senate Accountant, complaining that Germania cost more to manage than it bore in revenues, even when accounting for slaves. It was interesting though, there was something that Aurelius wanted, that Rome wanted. “Centurion Haledes,” his shouts drowned out by the prisoners' screams. Tribune Marcus Aurelius had broken from meetings mid-afternoon to take some fresh air, some sunlight. As he watched an armoured phalanx pass, he had noticed 37th Centuria 'practicing' with prisoners at the other side of the dusty parade ground. That was not written on his daily operations schedule. Marcus Aurelius had ridden out yesterday with some cavalry officers to the banks of the mighty Rhine. The northeastern outposts were grateful, he was grateful for the great rivers because their immensity, their unwarned flooding
5 and the fact they never froze, guarded against a sudden thrust from a marauding force or well-disciplined army. There were no well-disciplined armies, he snorted arrogantly inwardly: the tribes folk residing beyond the eastern floodplains fought incessantly amongst themselves, and when they were not preoccupied by their own barbaric flavour of internecine conflict, there were invaders from further east to occupy their warlike tendencies. He had read the recent officer reports of skirmishing tribe by tribe to the rivers, only for them to melt into the forests prior to annihilation. Forts were attacked periodically by different peoples as the vague tribal boundaries changed with chance and succession. The city library had grown with the myriad descriptions of these peoples and their strange ways. There was a painful comfort in the inevitability of their destiny for the generations that succeeded the tribal reigns. Such lack of prospects would otherwise be desolately soul destroying, but they knew no different and their culture was based around pride, respect and duty to themselves and their ancestors, as well as to a lot of herbal intoxicants. So it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Father passed his trade to his son and ten generations would pass with little progress. “Centurion!” Aurelius was being ignored. Not a good idea. He was getting angry, that wasn't a good idea either. He tensed, his teeth clenched: stay composed, fight only on your terms. Marcus Aurelius was comfortable in Legion-City Mogontiacum. The LegionCity was well positioned at the confluence of the Rhine and its tributary the Main. The Legion-City was well prepared: the military district adjoined the basilica, making up the whole northeast quarter within the walls and was linked to Rome and other Legion-Cities by paved roads. The Legion-City was well provided: Officers’ Quarters with married sections, barracks, mess halls, armories, prison, stables, smithies, bath houses, the infirmary, the college – all examples of modest period architecture: accurate, round Roman arches, simple, circular columns with strong large square capitals, local stone, not imported Imperial marble. Decoration was superficial, not sculpted, painted not gilded or inlaid. Flags and pennants adorned the walls and towers: cheap, effective and militarily appropriate. The frontier towns protected the Empire, families grew up in these areas, and soldiers made their lives in the service of the Empire. 'Macedonica', the five thousand strong Legion IV had been stationed at Mogontiacum for twenty years. There were civilian districts and tenements within the walls, baths, schools and shops. The camp commandant had a large villa estate built outside the town walls, as was the amphitheatre, which gave an indication to the low level of insurgency and the placid nature of the local west-of-river ethnic inhabitants.
6 Ever since the emperor Augustus had widened the intake into the Roman Empire one hundred years ago, from Italian land owners to just about anyone who wanted to fight for the ever expanding Empire, there had been career soldiers and legions that settled and acclimatised in their areas of occupation. In time, Generals became Governors. Marcus Aurelius knew that Legion IV Macedonica, commanded by Legatus Flavius Hermodes Craxus was, in most respects, typical of the dozen legions stationed along the Rhine-Danube border, with the nomad tribes of Magna Germania beyond to the northeast. A lot of the standing legionnaires had made relationships with local women and brought up families within the outpost perimeter or its environs. The town had a predominantly military feeling, but his observer’s eye saw the local influence on clothing, artistry and activity. He knew there was a very un-Roman feast in the town tonight. “Centurion Haledes,” he roared angrily, his hand gripped tightly on his gladius's pommel. The decanus (sergeant) alongside Haledes had noticed Marcus and was talking to Haledes who steadfastly refused to turn and acknowledge the Tribune. A second decanus was laughing with them. Drawing his sword would escalate the situation beyond the level Tribune Aurelius wanted, but neither could he let this action or disrespect continue. By Jupiter he fumed. . . . .later in Chapter 1 . . . To his left between the storehouse and stockade posts, he was disturbed by movement. Walking over he thought he saw a figure moving through the stockade wall. Impossible, he couldn’t believe it. It wasn't clear because he was in full sun and the movement was obscured by darkness and the shifting shadows cast by the Poplar trees now swaying in the breeze that had picked up. The light was not good; the shadows seemed to be dazzling and moving in irrational patterns, the sun sparkled and dappled light all about, breaking up the shapes. The sky contrived to confuse the situation. Dark storm clouds appeared and the threat of thunderstorms was growing, untypical for this time of year and time of day. Closer still he could make out the form. “Stand still and identify yourself,” the order was barked with sure intent, right hand grasping the handle of his Gladius. As he got closer he saw the figure
7 was a woman. The light was moving and he couldn’t see her outline as clearly as he would want for safety's sake. Her hair was flowing in the wind; it hid her outline and disguised her movements. He took a step closer as a trade off between safety and curiosity. The light briefly lit up the face of a beautiful woman amongst the shadows. He was caught off-guard by her grace, her presence enchanted him. He yanked the hilt of his weapon as a reflex. Perhaps it was the surprise, or was it something else, but he was feeling heady and her eyes seemed to drill deep, hot holes into his soul. His breathing increased. “Stand still and identify yourself,” not as commanding as before, a little more uncertain, he squinted. The woman was standing still; it was he who was wavering. “My name is Mea,” she smiled “What is your purpose? Answer me!” Marcus snapped back quickly with this demand. He wanted to reassert his authority in this situation, which was strangely slipping out of his control. She knew and took it all into account. “I am with the tribes folk.” “Why are you not in the stockade?” She shrugged vaguely but moved her body to beckon him closer with opening arms. He looked her up and down, his gaze penetrating her translucent white robes. Back in Rome, as an officer in the Praetorian Guard he had been to many celebrations and indulged in all the activities of the time, and the beholding of beauty was not strange to him. But there was something special about this woman, a deep charisma, an aura that emanated and drenched everything close to her, a smile that eased the moment and a look that was pure desire. He moved closer and slowly, involuntarily held out his hand. No longer were they soldier and slave but man and woman. He moved his hand further, his forearm outstretched, thick from struggle, turned inside, facing upwards, soft tissue exposed, throbbing veins laid bare. She looked at him and his hand gestured for her to move closer to him. She held out her hand and touched his wrist. A golden glow spread up his arm. It filtered to his core and he felt warmth grow in his chest. He remained aware but felt completely intoxicated. The sun swirled shadows though the Poplar trees in concert with the wind. The only sounds were of the rustling of the leaves, as strands of their hair lifted erratically in the wind. His mind seemed to float free from his body, his knees were weak, his eyelids heavy. Her piercing blue eyes had held his gaze, flooding his being with their intensity. Her slightest touch had had a delirious effect on him
8 Marcus roused from this daydream, shook the confused sensations from his head and pulled back his arm. Sensing that he had withdrawn, Mea volunteered, “Thank you for saving my kin.” Dazed, Marcus Aurelius said, “Uh, oh, I need scouts.” “I can show you the way.” He took a step backwards. She moved into the light and he glimpsed more of her body silhouetted against the thin white robe. Mea continued, “You know my name, what’s yours?” Still dazed, Marcus replied, “Marcus Aurelius.” He was fighting the situation and his mind; both were conspiring to confuse him. As a professional soldier, he knew the importance of information and disinformation. “Tell me Marcus Aurelius,” she asked seductively, “are you one of gold?” The tribune, still trying to make sense of the situation, replied with a quizzical furrow to his brow. “Aurelius, one of gold? That is my...family name.” “Do you have much gold?” “No,” still struggling to get the questions from his mind. She took a step closer and he could smell her scent, a sensuous, feminine musk. . . . . . . . .. .
9 The Amber Room Synopsis 30 chapters in five periods. 1 Present day, 2-6 Roman, 7 Europe 1750, 8-14 WW2, 15-30 Present Day. Roman: [SPRING] Roman officer, ordered by Nero, goes in search of Amber, meets mysterious forest woman. Modern Roman civilisation and the barbarian German tribes, their different beliefs, their mutual conflicts and the ancient routes of the amber trade. Feasting, fighting, fornicating, murder, mystery, mayhem, ends with a major battle whilst crossing the Rhine. Europe 1750: [WINTER] The inception and construction of The Amber Room set against the rise of the Prussian Empire and the battles in Europe over the Holy Roman Empire. WW2: [SUMMER] German Wehrmacht intelligence officer, ordered by Goebbels, goes off to Operation Barbarossa. Female Russian Museum Curator visits the Amber Room, Leningrad, surviving an air attack. The Officer captures the Amber Room and the Curator, and they return to Konigsberg, where they make a family. The tide of war turns, Lancasters bomb Konigsberg, the Russians advance, the family is scattered tragically, the Amber Room is lost. Present Day: [AUTUMN] US researcher meets female publisher in New York with new evidence about the location of the Amber Room. Under threat, they travel to Berlin and visit the old Nazi buildings to find the Amber Room. Now monitored by British Intelligence, they go to east finding a trail of clues left for them. They are split by a battle involving the German Police, British Agents and mysterious dark forces who abduct the female publisher and the Amber Room clues. The US researcher goes in search of the her, another battle occurs in Dresden with US special forces support and the lead characters are reunited but on the run from various groups and chasing the Amber Room in Germany. They visit locations, castles and the chase intensifies at each stage. They are attacked, survive, develop their relationship and find the location of The Amber Room. They go to the location which is the centre of a global meeting where powerful people are deciding the fate of the modern world. The Amber Room is being demonstrated as the main feature of the meeting but a small group try to use it to control the world and all the sovereign debts of nation states. It does not go to plan and the Amber Room opens the way for the evil ethereal forces to once again overtake the forces of good. The heroes are able to stop this happening and the world is saved. Prehistory (Epilogue): The eternal battle between good and evil, order and chaos, light and dark, procreation and destruction.
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10 Reviews
""The Amber Room" is an extraordinary achievement for a first-time author. From its primordial, primeval beginning, the novel races through time and space to a dramatic and almost apocalyptic conclusion. Heroes Mark and Ema battle against giant forces of Man and of Nature herself to reveal the truth about The Amber Room and its properties. But do they? May this reviewer beg the reader not to skip pages, but to wait for the last line which "explains" it all. An exciting, difficult and dangerous book that will keep you turning the pages."
Hugh Evans, the author of this well-researched story, takes us through a fascinating kaleidoscope of historical events surrounding the construction and subsequent disappearance of the Amber Room, cleverly intermingling fact and fiction from the beginnings of time to the present day. The pace of his tale is fast moving and it is with some regret that one has to leave the atmospheric intrigues of the various time periods and move on to the next. However the thread of the powerful connections with the main male and female characters echoing through the ages, compels and intrigues and pulls the reader along urgently, eager to see where this epic tale leads. Evans picks up the fictional trail of the Amber Room mystery in the present time, crafting tension and intrigue with surprising twists and turns in his story, culminating in an explosive clash of good versus evil, driven by the mysterious and powerful energy of the Amber Room. How it ‘ends’ is up to the reader to decide, but this is an allegorical tale containing all the elements of a ‘good read’ that will appeal to both men and women. A superb debut novel designed to entertain but also to challenge emotional and intellectual inertia - if you let it. Patricia Abercromby PGCE Freelance journalist and Co-Author of: Seated Acupressure Therapy