Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion (10 page)

Always.

I pushed her away gently and walked toward my favorite spot in the camp.  I passed by Santino and Wang who were bickering about the proper way to fold their tent, as well as Gaius and Marcus who sat patiently, having already packed up their gear well before even Helena and I had.  I looked to my left and saw Bordeaux happily holding his wife’s hand as they carried a few bags to their carriage.  Madrina seemed unsteady on her feet, but it was the first time I’d seen her walking since her time spent unconscious.

Borde
aux caught my eye as I passed but he immediately looked away.  A heartbeat later, he glanced back and held his attention longer this time, but betrayed nothing before having to avert his eyes again as Helena approached to offer a hand.

The big guy hadn’t been
very happy after I’d ordered him to reset his bomb that had destroyed Agrippina’s villa a few days ago.  With the knowledge I’d gained after going back in time, shortening the bomb’s fuse had been the only way to forestall Agrippina’s murderous rampage and save everyone’s life.  The only problem was that Madrina had come snooping around after we’d been captured, not knowing what had happened, and had been knocked unconscious by the bomb’s blast.  It had taken her a long time to recover, and Bordeaux had been of a mind to kill me once we’d all had the time to catch our breath, but once he’d learned that what I’d done had saved his life, as well as Madrina’s, he’d understood to some degree.  He must have still felt bad for attacking me, but I wasn’t about to force an apology on him.  He was upset at himself, and I knew what that felt like enough to know that I’d want to be left alone as well.

A
short walk later, I found myself back on my old rock, the one I’d perched myself on last night to read the Other Me’s journal.  I stared at it as I walked around it, preparing myself for what was to come.  It was too bad the rock wasn’t capable of offering any helpful advice or input.  It was just a rock.  A large, sturdy one, sure, as rocks should be, but a rock nonetheless.  I wondered what had gone through the mind of the rock that had held Odysseus in his opening moments in
The Odyssey
, where he had spent every free moment he had perched there, staring out at the sea, crying for his lost kingdom and his wife, Penelope.

That
man had been a true wreck.  He’d spent decades away from Penelope, fighting wars, battling monsters, watching his entire crew be killed or devoured in one grotesque way or another.  It had been a miracle that he hadn’t caved completely – that or Homer’s clever wit – so I tried to remember that even though I’d gone through a lot, he’d gone through far worse.

And at least I still had Helena.

I let out a long sigh as I mounted my companion rock, and retrieved Varus’ note.  I unfolded it so that it resembled its original, rolled appearance but paused when I noticed the small seal that kept it closed.  It didn’t have a fancy symbol or signet punched into the red wax, just a red depression, completely puritan in style.  The only thing that assured me it had come from Varus was the handwriting which I immediately recognized as his always calligraphic print.

I smiled at the lettering, thinking about Varus and how proper and
fastidious he’d always been in his presentation and in his work.  A quiet scholar who’d never asked anything of anyone, he’d been a brilliant linguist, a knowledgeable historian, a dedicated friend to Caligula – an odd relationship lost to history – a good husband, a proud father, and my pal.

It was unfortunate t
hen that besides his wife, I wasn’t sure anyone else knew these things.  Even Helena and all the rest had barely really known him – Hell, I’d barely even known him.  I hadn’t seen him or spoken with him in years, but we had been close in the short time we’d known each other, sharing a connection that neither one of us had ever really understood until much later.  I’d always suspected he’d been some long lost ancestor of mine, which was why the two of us had been able to connect through the orb, a theory that had later been confirmed by Artie and her arrival here.

I
still wondered if there was more to how the orb worked than just that, but with and another long breath to hopefully expel my continued confusion, I popped the seal that hid Varus’ words from the world.  Written there was a message that didn’t nearly take up the entirety of the surface area available, written in stylish but clear Latin letters.  Five years ago I would have driven myself to tears trying to translate this thing, but these days, I read Latin as easily as I did English.  I was confident I could translate circles around all those old Latin professors of mine – the same ones who had once thought I’d never learn the difference between an ablative and a dative.

I supposed that was one of the few benefits of my time here
: when I found my way home, I’d have quite the resume.

Not a bad thought actually.

I shook my head with a smirk, but cleared my mind and set my eyes to the page, ready to absorb whatever words of wisdom Varus had left to impart on me.

Jacob Hunter

Was it fate that brought us together, my friend?

Which odd twist from the hand of a divine was it that brought you into my life?

Sadly,
I do not have the answers to these questions, but I do know that I am glad for it.  Even as I write this, knowing what Agrippina may soon do to me, I am eternally grateful to have known you, and to have had the opportunity to research this great mystery you have brought into my life.

The orb.

I kept nothing from you on that fateful night aboard Agrippina’s barge, for I had not yet divined its secrets.  Please do not think that I kept from you what I am about to tell you here, for that is not the case.  Much has happened in the months since then.  More than I’ll ever truly come to understand.

Agrippina did not expect you on that night, try as she might have to convince you otherwise.  She may have known then – as I finally do now – what the orb does, but she has never been able to wield its power. 
She is a cunning and shrewd woman, and had been lying in wait for you since the moment you left Rome on the tragic day of Caligula’s death.  She later confided in me that she had been purposefully placing herself throughout the empire over the years to draw you out.  That’s all she had ever done, but she succeeded on that night.  Do not let her words intimidate you.  Do not let her suggestions sway your judgment.

And for the sake of the gods, Hunter, do not think
with anything other than your mind when you are with her.  Her nature is her greatest asset, and it is an alluring one.  Do not let your thoughts stray around her.

But the orb.

The orb is the key.  And I know now what it does only through a mere fluke.  An accident.  I have once heard how most great discoveries are done so only through such tricks of… yes, fate.

After what happened aboard the barge, Agrippina urged greater haste with my research and even allowed me access to the orb.  After all those years, finally, I was able to study it in person.  As I am certain you already have inklings as to what it does, I feel safe in my assumption that as you read th
ese words, you will not be surprised at what I learned in those wonderful few months.

The orb
is a time manipulation device.

You are from the future!

Or course!

It all makes such sense now.  How could I have been
so blind?  It is so obvious.  So obvious.  I was quite angry at myself for some time once I had discovered the truth.

I tested
it with a number of people in Agrippina’s retinue, but not once did it operate between two different individuals as it had you and I.  However, through a single accidental encounter later, I was able to replicate the results we shared and duplicated the orb, but I will not describe that event here.

But regardless, o
nce I had the orb, I pleaded for Agrippina to allow me leave to visit the library at Alexandria to further my research.  After much convincing, she relented.

That was two months ago
as far as she knows, yet, from my perspective over two years have passed.

Can you imagine it
?

Can you?

The amount of knowledge I gained in those two months… those two
years
… is simply incredible.  I could not take anything with me during those temporal trips, nothing except my mind and my memories.  I learned so much in that time, however, compiling data and decoding lost histories.  The man I worked with at the library could not understand how my knowledge grew as it did.

I was not bore
d in that time.  Nor did I age and I never felt any ill effects from such prolonged use.  It was simply amazing.  My mind grew but my body stayed healthy.  What leaps in knowledge I could have gained had the orb not been taken from me!

But I get ahead of myself.

Once I had gained as much research as I felt I needed, I recorded my findings.  This took several weeks, and often I would use the orb to ensure I had everything in order.  My research assistant was Flavius Rumella, a scholar employed with the library.  He and I worked together to make sense of it all, and… Jacob, what we learned was astounding.  I dare not speak of it here for fear that this document may fall into the wrong hands, and I feel I should begin to close as well before I utter too much in my excitement.

Go to Britannia, Jacob Hunter

But first, go to Alexandria.

Find Rumella
at the great library.

Tell him who you are.  He is expecting you.  If something happens to me, he is your only hope of discovering the answers you need.  I know you have no wish to remain here and I wish nothing more than for you and Helena to find some s
emblance of happiness together, but this cannot happen here.  You must go home.  And if helping you is the last thing I do on this despicable world, then at least I can rest eternally assured that I did something to be proud of.

If we
never meet again, and you find your way home, take care of yourself, Jacob.  Take care of the woman you love.  Everything you do, you must do for her and for the both of you together.  Nothing else matters.

I am sorry our time t
ogether was so short, as I am certain that had we more time, we could have solved the orb’s mysteries long ago.  It is a great regret of mine.  I have always felt that the two of us had a connection.  Some form of bond that made us the sum parts of some greater whole.  I cannot explain it, even now, but it makes me sad to know that we never had more time to learn more of each other.

Good luck, my friend.  Go to Alexandria.  Hopefully you never have to read this, but if you do, well, you’ll know what to do
.  Tell my son how proud his father is of him, and please… trust in yourself, Jacob.  Trust your friends.  Do not fall prey to Agrippina and her manipulations.  Everything you do from here until the end rests on your ability to trust.

I know you will do me proud.

Your friend,

Marcus Varus

My eyelids drooped heavily over my eyes as I read.  Tears were forming there,
although I hadn’t yet found the courage to let them fall, but as the note ended, I decided there was no longer a point in holding them back.  There was no one to impress, and even if I wasn’t all alone, it would do Marcus Varus no justice to contain them.  I let them go and felt two droplets splash against the roll of papyrus, one after another.

I felt my lower lip quiver as
my tears turned to sobs, but I pulled it together.  I bit my wayward lip and tightened my resolve.  I couldn’t believe how deep Varus’ words stung.  It was less the words but the depth to his message.  He had written that letter to me and me alone, had tasked me with a mission of monumental importance, and had asked me to tell his son that even though his father was now dead, that he still loved him very much and that he was proud.

How was I supposed to do th
at without telling the kid I had basically killed his father?

That it was
my actions that had resulted in his death?

I
t was Agrippina who had been directly responsible for his murder, that I knew, but only because it seemed her sole purpose in this world was to hurt me.  I was convinced of that.  I had put Varus in that horrible position, and without my presence here, he would still be alive.

I felt a hand come out of nowhere and
place itself on my shoulder.  I jerked at the touch and looked up, expecting Helena’s comforting presence beside me, but it was Artie who had risked approaching me instead.  She looked down at me with consoling eyes, but I could only look at her accusingly, as if all this was her fault too.  I barely even recognized her in that moment, but could think of nothing else to do but place my head in my hands, and let the document that Varus had so valiantly risked writing sop up the tears that streaked down my cheeks.

I felt Artie’s arm wrap around my back and she pulled me in close.  I let her,
trying to remember that none of this was her fault either.  Not at all, because it was all
my
fault.  No one else’s.  She wrapped her other arm around me and drew me in so that my head rested against her shoulder, and whispered soothing words that I barely understood.

“It’s all ri
ght, Jacob,” she whispered.  “We’ll fix all of this.  All of it.”

It was difficult to believe her.

I wasn’t sure if I could fix anything anymore.

Or if it was even worth fixing.

III

Generals

Caesarea, Judea

October, 42 A.D.

Later that night, we
finished packing and set out for Caesarea a few hours before midnight.  I opted to ride with Helena atop our carriage, since the idea of being alone upon my horse during the cold bleakness of night was far from appealing.

Thanks to
Artie, who had successfully contained my emotions earlier as I’d sat on my rock, I’d managed to avoid prying eyes and judgmental looks from my friends as they continued their preparations.  Santino and Vincent had already been perched atop their horses, while Stryker and Martin had their gear and most of their supply containers loaded onto my carriage, and had themselves plopped upon it.  Most of the others had been just about finished as well, so when Artie left me atop my wagon with a squeeze of my knee, we were ready to go.

W
ith the exception of Helena, Madrina, Titus, and myself, every member of my team rode their horses to act as scouts, flankers, or rearguard, while the only new member atop a horse was my sister.  Quite the little equestrian in her youth, even in this new timeline, Artie was an expert horse rider and could ride circles around Santino, who was still by far our worst rider.

Once on the road,
Helena remained mostly silent as I recalled the details of Varus’ note.

S
he hadn’t asked to read it and I hadn’t offered it to her either, neither one of us thinking it was appropriate since Varus had addressed it specifically to me.  She’d been most interested in Varus’ proclamation that we go to Britain, but had also voiced concern over going to Caesarea first.

We suspected Agrippina had gone
north to Anatolia so that she and her Praetorians could deal with the Parthian threat, but her ninjas were still out there.  Gaius and Marcus, former members of Agrippina’s Sacred Band – and two of her ninjas as well – had confirmed that while we had thinned their ranks considerably in recent months, had warned that she had a large supply of recruits to call on.

Helena
was far from a coward and she would never back down from a fight, but she had grown taciturn in recent weeks, often voicing her dissent about putting us directly at risk, especially when it concerned Agrippina.  She wanted nothing more than to strangle Agrippina to death, but also seemed more aware than the rest of us how adept she had become at besting us.  Helena knew we had to take risks if we were to get home, but she didn’t have to like it, especially not when she had our baby to think about, something I couldn’t blame her for either.  But the idea of heading to peaceful Alexandria to perform a low risk/high value mission for once appealed to her.  She wasn’t exactly excited about me ensconced in a library with tons of information to absorb and then regurgitate back to her, but she knew she had to pick her battles.  Better to be bored to death rather than stabbed, as she, unfortunately, well knew.

We
spent the next three days in transit heading southwest, relying on help from the random people we encountered for more precise directions.  A half dozen pointed fingers later, we found ourselves atop a small mountain with a grand view of Caesarea, still miles away, but sadly no better in appearance than when we’d last seen it.

Even from this distance, we could see how its once
pristine buildings had crumbled to nothing more than piles of rubble, and smoke plumes still wafted into the sky from innumerable fires set throughout the city.  We could also just barely make out the various legion camps scattered around the city’s perimeter, but with my binoculars, I could make out the shapes of soldiers running about in controlled chaos.  And as if the sight wasn’t bad enough, the stench of burnt garbage and decaying corpses was still strong, even as far away as we were.

Felix, my trusty
black, Spanish stallion that I’d stolen from Agrippina all those years ago, grumbled beneath me.

I’d left Helena’s side the day before yesterday, always feeling more protected atop Felix’s strong back and sturdy legs, at least when I didn’t need a shoulder to cry on as I certainly had that night.  He made me feel powerful
and gave me a commanding position high above any man on foot, but even horses had nerves, and like most animals, could sense things humans could not.  The city before us was a haunting sight, and the ghosts of countless dead must have tickled the senses of my poor horse.