The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (48 page)

Initially, the men on the rampart held them off
easily. It was only a matter of knocking over their ladders, and
sending them falling the short distance to the ground, but when
there were too many to handle, the ramparts were abandoned, and men
started spilling into the trenches.

The two centuries of legionnaires, plus Helena and
I, were equally matched in numbers with our enemy by now, but we
were all professional soldiers, whereas they were glorified
peasants. Organized, we stood shield to shield, waiting for them to
waste themselves attacking us.

Wave after wave came at us, slashing, cutting, and
stabbing only to be repelled. These men were amateurs, men with no
military training, with nothing but a purpose driving their
attacks, whatever that purpose may be.

By the time we cut the enemy’s number in half again,
I lost Helena somewhere in the confusion, and I could only pray
that she was all right. Cut off from my swim buddy, I found myself
in the middle of a line of three legionnaires. So far I had only
been involved in small skirmishes and I’d seen many men cut down,
but had yet to bloody my sword.

With only seven enemy combatants remaining, they had
no time for heroics. Hitting our line, I blocked and stabbed, and
blocked even more, before I saw a clear opening for my first kill.
An enemy was engaged with the legionnaire to my right, and had over
extended himself, falling onto his shield. I saw the enemy’s
exposed flank, and drove my sword up through the man’s armpit,
driving it into his neck. Freeing my sword, a stream of blood
spewed all over my clothes and face. No time to react, I saw one of
the last men swinging his sword with both hands downwards, in an
attempt to split me in two.

I gave him no such chance. I caught the slice on my
shield, blocking and sweeping his sword away, giving me an open
shot at his entire front side. I looked right in his eyes and he
looked back, immediately realizing his mistake. Gazes still locked,
I thrust my sword right through the man’s chest. I felt the blade
slip through his ribs, and out his back. I’d hit him right in his
heart, and he fell dead almost immediately, blood spurting from the
wound and his mouth.

The last of the enemy slain, the surviving
legionnaires bellowed a triumphant cry. They inspected the bodies,
putting down any poor soul still left alive. It was a barbaric
custom, but this was war, and definitely not one with any modern
rules. Sanitation, food, medical supplies, guards – each of these
things were at risk by harboring prisoners, and it would only
hinder the siege. As immoral as it may have seemed, it was the only
practical answer.

Only a few dozen of our men had died, while another
twenty had sustained injuries. Our men would receive help, of
course, and I did what I could with the limited medical kit I had
on me. Tending to a legionnaire cut along his bicep, I applied a
few butterfly bandages to the wound after wiping it with some
anti-bacterial cream. Applying the last of the bandages, I was
prematurely pulled away from the man by Helena, who grabbed my head
and kissed me with a passion I hadn’t experienced from her in days,
well... hours really. My reunion with her incited most of the men
watching to boo and throw dirt at us. The legionnaires had grown
accustomed to seeing us together back in the winter camp, but now
that we were clearly together, they let their humorous disapproval
show whenever they could.

Poor jealous bastards.

That was the first of our mini engagements, and the
only one I had participated in. Everyone else in the squad had
received a small taste for sword combat during the siege as well,
and each came away admitting they hated it, but happy they got some
experience. These engagements had me worried though because if
Claudius could afford to waste troops in these completely
ineffective counter attacks, how many men did he really have? The
enemy was losing far more than we were, and it led me to wonder if
Claudius had recruited a larger army than Galba had estimated.

As for Nero and Agrippina, I had no idea where they
were, and frankly, couldn’t care less. A part of me wished the pair
died in the initial artillery strike, but that seemed unfair. After
all, young Nero was still technically innocent, and something as
beautiful, albeit evilly beautiful, as Agrippina shouldn’t be
wasted.

On the thirty seventh day of the siege, I awoke
early around four in the morning, and was not feeling well. I’d
slept all right, but it must have been that damn beef patty MRE I
had again the previous evening that woke me.

I’ve sworn off the stuff since.

With my upset stomach groaning, I got up slowly so I
didn’t disturb Helena. She was still fast asleep; the remnants of
her clothing strewn about the tent after I’d aggressively removed
them earlier. She looked perfect in the dim light from a dying glow
stick that softly illuminated her body, so I retrieved my rifle as
quietly as I could and left to wander through the trenches. It was
still dark, and there were only a few sentries posted and awake. As
I passed by them, they offered me friendly, but tired greetings,
mostly paying me little attention. I continued on my morning walk
until I found a nice spot to watch the sun rise in the East. Since
high school, I made it a point to just sit and watch the sun rise
whenever I could. My time in the military, and in the Roman army,
granted me many opportunities to be awake during the time, but
never any to just sit and enjoy.

It had been a beautiful dawn, followed by an even
more stunning sunrise. I didn’t move until the entirety of the sun
had cleared the horizon, and was floating just a few feet above the
tree line, far in the distance. I could never figure out why I felt
better after watching the daily event, I just knew that I did. It
made me feel whole. I threw the sun a salute and continued on my
trek.

Along the way, I stopped at each fort and used my
rifle’s scope to check out the walls in case trouble was abrewing.
At the last fort before my camp, I set my sights just above a
gate’s entrance, and saw the last thing I thought I’d see.
Agrippina was standing there, and oddly, she seemed to be looking
right at me. There was no way she could have recognized me from the
distance we were at, but I could have sworn she’d smiled at me.

I lowered my rifle, rubbed my eyes with my hands and
then the lenses of my scope with a rag. Raising my rifle again, I
looked back at where I thought I had seen her only ten seconds
earlier, but found nothing. Just an empty wall. I shuddered,
finally realizing the odd contrasting similarities between
Agrippina’s smile, and Helena’s eyes. Not a person in the world
could either unnerve me or confuse me like those two women could. I
went back to my tent thoroughly creeped out and wrapped myself
around Helena. In seconds, I was back asleep with another hour to
burn.

By the time the fiftieth day of the siege rolled
around, I’d just about given up any thoughts of it lifting. Besides
the few moments of excitement and action, there wasn’t much to do.
I spent my time running, practicing swordsmanship, cleaning and
preparing my gear, spending some quality time with my reconciled
lady friend, and working on my tan. I was a solid bronze,
practically Helena standards, by the time Caligula called for a
meeting of his senior staff. He told Vincent to bring the rest of
us along.

All the usual suspects were present and accounted
for, so Caligula began promptly.

“I am sure you are all aware of how the siege is
progressing, so I’ll get to the point.” He paused, placed his fists
on the table and leaned heavily on them. “We’ve just received
reports indicating massive unrest in the city. Many of its citizens
are calling for an end to the siege and demanding Claudius do
something about it.

“Seven months ago, news of my apparent death didn’t
go over well with the public, and while Claudius’ ascension was
taken in stride, it was not overwhelming popular. Therefore, our
arrival, and my apparent rise from the dead, has made the people
question what actually happened the night we left. Thanks in part
to Vincent and his people, many felt the gods themselves had fought
against my Praetorians. Now, however, they are not so sure.

“This works in our favor. Claudius now has no choice
but to face us in open combat, or risk the city rising against him.
I do not care how unstable he may be, he is not stupid. He’ll come
out and face us.”

He looked at each of us present and met each of our
gazes. Most wore stone faced expressions, but some, mostly those of
us who had never seen a military engagement of this kind, looked
worried. He must have noticed our apprehension.

“Vincent. What can I expect from you and your
people?”

Vincent shifted his feet, and looked at each of his
operators. I gave him a reassuring nod.

“We’ll fight for you, Caesar,” he replied,
confidently.

“Good.”

“I think what the emperor meant is how can you help
us?” Galba asked, still looking for a reason to keep us around.

“Three things,” Vincent said, ignoring Galba.
“First, we can lay a field of explosives on the battlefield the
night before the engagement along a path where we expect our enemy
to be. They will trigger when passed by. It should cause
significant damage to small portions of the army.”

“Wouldn’t that require them to attack us? As it is
that we are besieging them, it would seem that the orders of combat
would be reversed,” Galba said, continuing his skepticism and
sarcasm.

“Not necessarily, sir. We can sneak close enough to
the walls to lay them in the area the enemy will use to form their
battle lines. We can hit them any time we want.”

I groaned quietly. That would mean we, probably
Helena and I, would have to spend hours crawling under the cover of
ghilli suits just to get close enough to lay out a field of demo.
It wouldn’t be fun, but it would definitely work.

C-4 was very good at blowing up walls and bringing
down buildings, but its blast radius and direction was very
concentrated, so laying it on the ground to blow at the enemy’s
feet wouldn’t work. We did have a few claymores left, provided in
our supplies but what would really help were the few dozen
antipersonnel mines we discovered. Nearly invisible to those not
directly looking for them, the mines were equipped with laser trip
wires. Once triggered, the mine would launch a device a few feet in
the air, and explode outwards as it spun, tearing through skin and
bone in a twenty yard radius. The few dozen of these we had would
be very helpful, indeed.

“Second, we can provide rifle fire to help weed out
the enemy at a much farther range than your
pila
volleys.
Since we are within our range already, our sustained fire might
force their hand, and cause them to charge us. Once both sides are
within
pila
range, no matter who charges who, we will fall
back through your lines and fire when targets of opportunity
display themselves only.”

“And the third?” Galba asked insistently.

Vincent looked around the room, maybe deciding if he
wanted to continue or not. “Before the battle even begins, should
Claudius be present on the battlefield, we, and by ‘we,’ I mean
her,” he said, pausing for emphasis as he pointed at Helena, “can
eliminate him before he takes two steps onto the field.”

Galba opened his mouth to speak, but just as quickly
shut it. He had seen her shoot an apple off of a wall from a few
hundred yards away, and must have known she could do what Vincent
was offering. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, and since she
was a better shot than even I was, Helena, not her rifle, was
currently the single most effective weapon on the entire
planet.

Caligula appeared more thoughtful than his general,
as he too realized Helena could perhaps end the war before it even
began. Still leaning on his fists, he looked up and for maybe the
first time since both had known each other, looked her square in
the eye, and spoke to her as a commander would any of his
soldiers.

“Are you willing to do this?”

Helena looked at Vincent, who nodded, then at me.
All I could do was offer a weak shrug. It wasn’t my place to decide
for her. She looked down at her feet and thought it over before
meeting Caligula’s face.

“I am,” she answered, mostly confident.

Caligula looked at Galba, whose face was unreadable.
I knew what he was thinking, and it couldn’t have been an easy
decision. Just because you had the power to end a life on a whim,
doesn’t mean you should do so. Besides, enemy or not, crazy or not,
Claudius was still Caligula’s uncle, and I’m sure that fact had to
weigh heavily on his mind. He turned his back on his staff, and
rested his chin on an upraised fist.

Five minutes passed and he still hadn’t made a
decision.

“Caesar?” Galba queried tentatively.

Caligula’s head dropped, but he soon turned back to
face us.

“No,” he said quietly. “No. Thank you, but I cannot
condone that. He is my uncle, and both sides are aware of why they
are fighting. Assassinating him at the onset of battle would do
little to dissuade the troops. Whoever has more men standing at the
end of the day will prevail, and will be able to maintain their
hold on power through their own loyal troops. The less dissenters
the better. This must be decided on the battlefield.”

Bravo, Caligula. I had to imagine emperors both
before, and definitely after, would have jumped at the opportunity
to wield the kind of power Helena possessed. Sure, he’d used her
before for the exact reason, but it seemed as though the past few
months had matured the man, his arrogant personality abandoned. If
we could defeat Claudius, I saw a bright future for Rome.

As for Helena, she was obviously relieved. She’d
gotten a taste for both combat and assassination lately, and had a
definite knack for it, but I knew it didn’t come easy for her. I
knew she didn’t like it. It had been a topic for many a late night
conversation. I wondered if she would have cut it as a sniper back
home. She had no choice here. Here it was kill or be killed, but it
wasn’t so black and white back home. She wasn’t a bloodthirsty
killer, and I had a renewed regret for bringing us here and causing
all this shit.