The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (25 page)

We didn’t hate our fathers, we just didn’t
understand them, like they didn’t understand us. Although, after my
father had snubbed me back at the airport, hate wasn’t that far
off.

Our mothers, on the other hand, were startlingly
similar, despite completely different backgrounds. Loving, guiding,
and our primary care givers, we had both spent more time with them
than our fathers and loved every moment of it, and after the way
Helena spoke of hers, I really hoped to meet her one day.

A duchess or baroness of some kind, Helena described
her as eternally loving and beautiful, far more so than even
herself, reason enough to get home so I could meet her. She had
been very hands on with Helena, always a guiding presence, even
with the cadre of maids, nurses, teachers, and other caregivers
Helena had been surrounded by. My mother had been horribly
pedestrian in comparison, but after I’d shown Helena a picture of
her that I kept stashed in my go-bag, she commented how she must
have been a wonderful lady, beautiful on both the inside and
out.

She had been surprised at how close my mom and I had
been, and had jokingly called me a “momma’s boy” because of it. I
told her to try my cooking and see if she still wanted to joke
about it. She backed off immediately, admitting she could barely
boil water herself.

I still held back my “nurse” story, figuring there’d
be plenty of time to get into that one later.

The only one of us who seemed aloof was Vincent.
Plagued by the duties of command, he knew better than to socialize
with the rest of us in a casual atmosphere. Even so, we spent
plenty of time in “Latin 101” as Santino dubbed it. A few times a
day, we would learn the basics as best we could from Vincent’s
instruction. It took me six years to learn what I know now, and the
rest of the time since then to forget it, so I sat in on the basic
grammar and vocabulary lessons as well. By the third day, I began
to wonder if Vincent had actually written the text book I used in
high school, as he seemed to follow the lessons almost to the
letter.

While the rest of the team struggled, and would
probably continue to do so for the months to come, I started
picking things up rather quickly. Listening in, as well as trying
my own hand at conversation when the Romans came to chat, I found
myself slowly reaching my old level of proficiency and beyond.

I always knew I was good at Latin, even though my
professors would never admit it.

All in all, things were going well, if not boringly
well, but by the end of the third day, our patience was rewarded
with the news that the Romans had recovered McDougal’s body, and
our gear containers, thankfully locked from prying eyes.

The next morning, dressed in our BDUs, we met
McDougal’s corpse a few miles outside the walls of Rome, an area we
estimated was clear of the city in our own time. Interestingly,
Caligula was also there, indicating his wish to be present both to
honor the dead, and to observe our burial rituals.

Father Vincent, back in priest mode I had originally
seen him in, began with a prayer.

“
In nomi
…”

He paused. As with many masses spoken in the twenty
first century, much of it was still spoken in Latin. Vincent looked
me in the eye, realizing how odd it would sound to the Romans to
hear their own language spoken in our prayers.

He covered with a cough before starting again. “In
the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” He cleverly
left out the “amen” what was originally a Latin word.

We continued as many funerals did, with the reading
of a scripture passage from a Bible Vincent kept on his person, as
well as a eulogy, delivered by Wang. His delivery was heartfelt,
but strong, the discipline of a military man showing itself.
Nearing the end, we all gathered some dirt, and sprinkled it over
McDougal’s body, buried roughly six feet deep.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We commence this soul
into your heavenly embrace, oh Father. Look upon him kindly.”

With that, Vincent ended the funeral as it had
begun.

The ceremony complete, we finished burying the body,
staking a wooden cross in the ground at its head, wrapping one of
McDougal’s dog tags around it. Vincent kept the other half.

Noticing our ritual had ended, Caligula approached,
respectfully. “You have my deepest sympathy and my thanks for your
permission to attend the ceremony.”

Vincent spoke up. “Who am I to deny the most
powerful man in the world?”

Caligula smiled. “Who indeed? Still. I found it very
interesting. Now, to discuss more important matters.”

“Of course.”

Caligula took a deep breath of the fresh, crisp fall
air. “Such a beautiful day. Why don’t we walk back to Rome
together?”

Vincent nodded, gesturing for the rest of us to fall
in behind them.

“You seem to know quite a bit about my little
empire,” Caligula began, strolling down the pristine Roman road.
“Yet, I know almost nothing of you, except that you have
capabilities far beyond anything I can muster. So, I ask you again,
who are you, and where are you from?”

Vincent and Caligula walked side by side, with the
rest of the team filed in behind them. Helena was limping on her
own at this point, while Bordeaux had a cast around his ankle and a
cane to help support him. Surrounding us were more of Caligula’s
Praetorians, hands on the hilts of their swords, ready to protect
their emperor at moment’s notice.

Vincent held out his arms, palms open, as innocently
as possible. “I am sorry, but I cannot say. It may do more harm
than good.”

“Yes, you keep telling me that, but your words mean
nothing to me. You speak in riddles. How am I to fully trust you if
you will not answer my questions?”

“We are here to serve, Caesar.”

Well, that was interesting, Vincent. Since when did
we have plans to throw in with the Romans? I mean, really?

Caligula thought it over. “Very well. If that is
truly the case, there is something you must do for me.”

“Name it, Caesar.”

“I mean to claim the northern island of Britannia
into my domain. However, my plans are not yet ready and with the
winter months approaching, will have to wait. However, with your
abilities, you should be able to speed the matter up rather
effectively.”

Speed things up is right. Caligula never made an
attempt to invade Britain for at least three more years, and things
didn’t go so well. Sources claim that he ordered his troops to
gather seashells, and little else. It wasn’t until his uncle
Claudius that Rome made any progress in the area.

“What would you have us do?”

“The country is far from unified. Or civil. It’s
nothing but a barbaric hinterland. But, that is our goal as Romans,
to bring civilization to the far corners of the world. For your
part, there is one particular war chieftain, Adminius is his name,
who is quite troublesome. I would like you to eliminate him, and
cause as much destruction to his camp as possible. We have word
that he is keeping a large portion of his military strength close
to him, but we don’t know why. Additionally, we have learned that
he has erected his winter quarters deep on the mainland, for peace
talks amongst the Gauls. Probably not for any direct action against
us now, but maybe to build up his strength for the future. We can’t
have that.”

“I understand.” Vincent considered for a minute.
“Very well. I will send three of my people.”

“Only three? Would not all be better?”

Vincent looked over his shoulder at us. “Two of my
people could do it alone if I allowed it, but these are hardly
normal circumstances, and I’d prefer only sending a small
team.”

“Surely the woman is not one of these two?”

“Actually, she is, and she will be one of the three
that goes. I will also send the man who destroyed your column, and
myself. However, the two of them will need time to heal. At least
two weeks.”

Caligula mulled that over. “That will do. It will
allow me to send for a guide who is familiar with the area. Now.
Tell me how you plan to accomplish your task.”

So he did.

Vincent went over every detail of what he planned
meticulously, as if he had been planning it for weeks. The way
things were going at this point, that wouldn’t necessarily surprise
me one bit. He spoke all the way to the gates of Rome, with
Caligula venturing questions at random.

Vincent’s plan called for a jungle creep, a term
coined for any lengthy excursion through the wilderness. When they
reached the camp, they would spend a day scouting the location and
identifying the high value target, before using the cover of
darkness to place demolition charges in key positions around the
camp. Come morning, they would eliminate the HVT, blow the camp,
and extract as quickly as possible. The team would have ample
cover, not to mention at least a mile between their targets, so
getting out wouldn’t be a problem. In theory it seemed simple, and
for once in my military career, I could honestly say that it really
was.

In our own time, the same kind of mission was
relatively straight forward as well. However, the enemy here will
have no idea what hit them, and will probably be more likely
prostrating themselves before their gods than looking for any
mortal culprit.

It was a safe bet Caligula had already figured that
out, and had planned exactly for it. We were a perfect way to
inflict a crushing military blow against his enemies, with
absolutely no expense to him, or fingers pointed at Rome. The man
must have been planning this since the day we met him.

By the time we reached our little home away from
home, Caligula seemed pleased with our plan, and told us he would
call for us when our guide arrived. Until then, we were back to
being his guests, under armed guard of course. We were stuck in our
four bedroom apartment, allowed to leave only under the watchful
eye of the Praetorians.

So, when we got back to the room, there was little
more to do except pull out the cards and start playing.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

VII

Claudius

Rome, Italy

October, 37 AD

In all honesty, the two weeks turned out to be one
of the most relaxing fortnights of my life.

The food provided was better, we were given cleaner
and more comfortable sleeping accommodations, the Praetorians were
much more casual around us, and we were invited to dine with
Caligula himself on a few occasions. It was also the only time I
could remember ever having a two week furlough without the risk of
being spontaneously summoned by the Navy. The longest leave I’d
ever had since the war began, the time recovering from my wounds
notwithstanding, was five days, and that was to pay my respects
after my mother’s passing, and included travel time.

The best part though, was that we were finally
allowed full access to the entire city of Rome and at the start of
every day, Helena and I would go for a morning jog. We took it easy
at first, rehabilitating her leg and ankle with walks and light
jogs. Helena still had a bit of a limp, even by the end of the
second week, but she was getting stronger. By the end of the first
week, while not quick, she was nimble enough that she and I could
sneak away from our Praetorian escorts.

Once away from their watchful eyes, we’d wander
around the city for a few hours every morning, becoming as familiar
with its narrow corridors and back alleys as its residents became
with us. Wearing our combat boots, shorts that hung above the knees
and loose shirts, we stood out like a sore thumb.

Over the course of a few days, I noticed a few women
gathering together on a street corner, giggling and pointing as I
ran by. Their numbers grew as the days went on, and I always made
sure to smile as goofy a smile I could and wave. Some of them were
fairly attractive, and if not for my overly protective and
combative swim buddy, I may have made a pass at one or two of them.
As we made our way around their corner, Helena would always glare
at me, quite the hypocrite since she didn’t have a problem with any
of the guys who ogled her, of which there were of course many.

Vanity aside, our runs were really just a good way
to pass the time. With little else to do after our daily
calisthenics, Helena and I would head to those public baths I’d
been dreaming about earlier, but we always kept our distance from
each other, hoping to avoid any inevitable awkwardness. After a
scrub down with scented oils, and a quick dip in warm water
followed by cool water, we’d rendezvoused at the entrance and head
back to our small building.

The rest of the team would be there, but not for
long. We spent plenty of time in each other’s company throughout
the day, but everyone went out to explore the city at one point or
another. Generally, we all made it a point to gather for lunch,
dinner, and Latin 101, but other than that, the day was ours. After
dinner, Helena and I would head out and explore the sights again,
continuing our exploration. I always brought my camera along, and
took pictures that would have historians back home drooling all
over themselves.

Occasionally, Santino would join us - “chaperoning”
as he put it.

The truth is, despite his antics, charm, and
pleasing disposition, Santino didn’t really fit in. Surprise,
surprise. Most people could only take him in small doses, but I
loved being around him. We gelled wonderfully.

Besides, Wang wasn’t really in the mood for jokes,
Vincent had to remain distant from the rest of us, and while
Bordeaux had a good sense of humor, Santino didn’t dare cross the
big Frenchman. That left just Helena and me, which was fine by
me.

Helena, on the other hand, was as uptight as they
came around people like him, which only gave us the openings we
needed to really piss her off. It didn’t take her too long before
she realized it was all in good fun, and began a practice of
slugging me in the arm to deal with her annoyances. Girls always
thought it was cute to punch guys in the arm, but I never
understood what was so fun about it. I didn’t mind too much, as
long as she stayed away from my face.