Synopsis

From the Realm of Time continues the saga of Roman General Marcus Augustus Valerias nine years after his climactic war with the Huns, and five years after the Romans’ catastrophic defeat at Adrianople.  In 383 AD, Valerias has retired to an estate near Milan with his wife, Claire, a former queen of a kingdom in Britannia, and their two daughters. A life of contentment at the estate eludes Valerias and Claire as they face religious strife in the Christian community, unrest in her former kingdom incited by a usurper queen, reconciliation with her estranged son, and the pending massive invasion of Britannia by the Saxons. Their interactions with a diverse group of characters create an epic story of treachery, courage, war, and love set against the backdrop of the relentless passage of time.

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Excerpt

CHAPTER I

Turning Point 378 AD

It was difficult to tell who was breathing harder—the man or the horse. The man because of the overwhelming fear of his impending death; the horse because of the terror pulsing through the man, who pushed it to run even harder. Both were in full agreement to flee the area as quickly as possible.

The man was Flavius Julius Valens Augustus, the Eastern Roman emperor. He had just witnessed the destruction of his mighty army by the Goths at a place called Adrianople, located approximately one hundred and thirty miles northwest from his capital at Constantinople.t was difficult to tell who was breathing harder—the man or the horse. The man because of the overwhelming fear of his impending death; the horse because of the terror pulsing through the man, who pushed it to run even harder. Both were in full agreement to flee the area as quickly as possible.

What started out as a great day for the empire was now a complete disaster. The Roman army had been crushed by the Goths, with the remnants in full flight. All the Roman soldiers who were wounded or could not escape were slaughtered unmercifully. Death watched with glee as blood washed over the countryside.

Emperor Valens believed that if he was captured, the Goths would parade him about as a spoil of their victory. The Goths would seal his fate in a manner similar to that of Roman Emperor Valerian, who had been captured by the Persian King Shapur I a century earlier. He accepted as truth the persistent rumors that the unfortunate late emperor had been flayed alive and his skin stuffed with straw.

Valens moved his thoughts away from that dreadful scenario and, in a brief moment of clarity, sensed a pain in his side. When he tried to rub the area, he felt a sharp, burning sensation. The arrow wedged inside his rib cage had penetrated his left lung. Blood oozed from the wound and soaked his clothes. His breaths became labored. Perhaps I will die before the Goths capture me, he thought, and said a quick prayer to God to save his soul.

In the chaos after the battle, Valens had been separated from his guard, his generals, and his loyal eunuchs. However, he was fortunate because it was twilight; darkness was about to envelop the landscape. The moonless night would provide cover for him. Unfortunately, Emperor Valens was not a man who could survive on his own.

A large man with dark skin in Roman battle dress rode up beside Valens on a black horse. At first, Valens did not know what to think of him. He was thankful, though—the large man was a Roman. But the pain took over his mind and before Valens could say anything, the large man easily pulled him onto his own horse.

“I am a loyal subject of Rome, Emperor,” the large man said reassuringly. “I will take you to safety. I have friends in the woods across that ridge.”

“What friends? And who are you?” Valens spoke meekly with eyes that could barely make out the shape of his rescuer.

“In time, Emperor. Now, just rest.”

The two men rode by a barn where several Roman soldiers stood nearby. One solider recognized Valens and shouted for him and the large rider to join them in the barn.

“I am taking the emperor to safety in the woods,” the large man shouted. “I would not stay in that barn, if I was you. The Goths will trap you in there. You will have better fortune in the woods.”

The soldiers were barely visible in the growing darkness. They again urged Valens and his rider to join them, but the large man just waved. He continued to carry Valens by horseback into the woods.

The forest was abundant with vegetation; thickets of scrub dodged the dark shadows of the tall canopies. Even in the August heat, coolness permeated the woods.

Valens lost and regained consciousness several times as the large man wound his way over the forest floor. Once when he awoke, Valens inquired, “How can you know where we are going?”

The large man answered, “It is marked. Even at night I can follow the trail. We will be at our destination soon. Rest, Emperor.”

About a half hour later, the two men slowly rode into a clearing. An old woodcutter’s hut appeared to the south, illuminated by a torch. The hut had a poorly covered thatched roof with old wooden walls on three sides. The south side of the hut was partially exposed to the elements. It had been years since anyone had used it, as was evident from its dilapidated condition.

The man gently lifted Valens off his horse and carried him into the shelter. A large pile of leaves covered an area on the dirt floor at the back, serving as a rudimentary bed. The large man carefully laid Valens down, the dry leaves rustling as he settled. He opened Valens’ tunic and stared at the wound. He straightened again and walked outside with a grimace.

The man surveyed the area around the hut. When he saw no sign of life, he gave the call of a night bird. He waited a short time before he repeated the call. He walked back into the hut and stood silently. He lit a second small torch and mounted it on the inside wall. Flickers of light from the torch broke the dark’s hold. He could hear Valens’ raspy cough, but could do nothing.

From the southwest, three figures emerged from the forest and rode slowly on their horses through the clearing. The man in front was thin and short with a mustache that smothered his upper lip and curved down on both sides of his mouth. He carried a lighted torch. Behind him came an older man with short, almost gray hair and a neatly cropped beard. The last to arrive was a woman in her mid-thirties. She had a pretty face with long, black hair that curled across the top of her cloak. Her face was starkly pale in the torchlight, which contrasted sharply with her crimson cloak and dark hair. She was someone who would be noticed in a crowd—and by an emperor. She had become Valens’ mistress within days of their initial meeting.

About the Author

Scott resides in Bayside, Wisconsin, with his wife, Marcie. He is a retired environmental consultant with a strong interest in natural resources. Scott enjoys spending time with his three adult children and writing. Into the Realm of Time is Scott’s debut novel. From the Realm of Time is the sequel to Into the Realm of Time.

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