Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion (24 page)

I looked up with my eyes alone and looked at Galba.  “Strategic recommendations?”

“I thought you were in command… Legate.”

“I know when to defer to those with more experience, Galba.  This is your area of expertise, not mine.”

“Indeed,” he replied, his voice suggesting he appreciated my confidence in him.  “Well, we won’t find any answers on this beach.  I suggest we march your legions to Camulodunum and speak with Plautius.  He’s a good man and understands warfare well, and will appreciate reinforcements.

“
Now, about this other duty you must embark on, please explain, and do not leave anything out that I may later deem important.”

I sighed and took a seat at my desk, holding out a hand to indicate Galba should take a seat before me.  Vincent moved to stand at my back
while Santino stood off to the side of the tent with his arms crossed, but Galba didn’t move.

“I don’t need to remind you that what I’m about to say is extremely important and very
confidential, correct?”  I asked Galba.

“If it has to do with your orb, the
n yes, you need not remind me.”

“Good,” I answered before leaning back in my chair lazily.  “Our mission here in Britain has nothing to do with fixing broken history or usurping heads of state.  It has nothing to do with you, or the legions outside, or even anything to do with the Roman Empire.  Instead, it has
everything
to do with the orb.  It’s a fact finding mission to track down people who may know something about its origin or how we can operate it properly.”

Galba huffed and looked sidelong at
Santino, then up at Vincent, before returning his attention back to me.  “I do not even know where to begin, Hunter, but it would be a gesture of good faith if you would at least tell me where you were planning to go.”

“
The Isle of Mona.”

“I have heard of such a place
,” he said, curiosity in his voice, and finally took his seat.  A haven for vagabonds, criminals, and… ah… Druids.  I understand then.  Where is it?”

I leaned in and pointed at an empty part of the
crude map.  Galba glanced at my pointed finger and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Impossible!”  He nearly shouted.  “Even with both of your legions, such a trip would be suicidal. 
The territory between here and there is hostile, and I would not let you take even a single century of men with you. Your troops are needed with Plautius, defending Camulodunum and then counterattacking more local enemies come spring, not gallivanting across the country!”

I pulled my finger back
and placed my hand in my lap.  “I understand your concerns, Galba, but as you’ve already reminded me, you’re not in command here. 
I
am.  And the Isle of Mona is where I have to go, so that is where I am going, whether you like it or not.”

Galba stood so suddenly that his chair fell
backward and crashed into the grass.  He raised a finger and pointed it at me accusingly.  “You’ve always been too arrogant for your own good, Hunter!  I can’t believe I just wasted seconds of my life listening to you lie about deferring to those with better judgment while you sit there now and countermand such logic.”

“Sit down, Galba,” I said impatiently, but
he didn’t listen.  “I didn’t say I was just going to take the legions with me and leave your precious ass undefended.  I agreed with you that we need to reach Camulodunum and regroup with Plautius, where we’ll be able to work out a spring campaign that will accommodate us both.  I’m not in a hurry.”

Galba glared at me and didn’t speak, choosing instead
to pick up his map and leave. I watched him go, oddly not caring that I’d just driven him up a wall.

Santino watched him go, and hooked a thumb at his retreating backside.  “Again with these people not saying goodbye…”

Vincent walked around my desk and picked up the chair Galba had just overturned.  “He’s not someone you want to make an enemy of, Jacob.  He’s a competent general and a sound strategist, and he knows legions in a way that academics like you and I will never understand.  We need his support.”

“You think I don’t know that, Vincent?”  I asked.  “I do, I just don’t need him thinking that he has any actual sway over my decision making ability.”

“Then why did you just lie to him?”  Santino asked to my left.  “Wait, did you just lie to him?

I looked up at him, frustration beginning to simmer in the pit of my stoma
ch.  “I didn’t lie to him, John.  All I want is for him to remember who’s in command here.”

I looked back to Vincent, who after a moment of thought,
finished his movement and set the chair to stand on its legs.  He gave it a look before straightening his posture and setting his eyes to look just above my head.

“With your permission, Legate, I’ll take me leave.”

I sighed and waved a hand at him.  “Vincent, it’s not like that.  I’m…”

“With your permission, sir.”

I felt my frustration with Galba turn into anger directed at Vincent, but before I let it, I lowered my hand to the table before flicking it to the side.  Taking the hint, Vincent tipped his head, turned on his heels, and left my
praetorium
.

“I think I’ll go too
then,” Santino said, but before I could ask him to stay, he rushed from the tent, leaving me alone.

I sat there in both verbal and mental silence for a few minutes,
deciding there was no point in wasting my energy worrying about Santino, Galba,
or
Vincent.  I found myself relaxing into my stiff chair and letting myself fall into a kind of mental daze, a state of mind that seemed to come so easily these days.  My mind wandered, never able to lock onto anything specific or relevant, like a night trying to fall asleep when what seemed like every memory, song lyric, movie quote, life experience, or comment I’d ever experienced invaded and raced through my mind and refused to go away.  I felt sweat bead on my forehead as I sat in my daze, but it was over in seconds and the distractions were gone.

When I opened my eyes and came out of my stupor, I found that
I was no longer sitting behind my desk, but sprawled out on the grassy ground, my hands held out and placed on my footlocker.  I looked at it, trying to divine its significance, but all I felt was a coldness that trickled down my spine as I realized my hands were completely numb.

I pulled
them away and rolled onto my back so that I could stick them between my armpits, hoping to warm them.  As feeling returned seconds later, I stood and made my way toward my bed, which I plopped onto without hesitation.  I pulled the sheets up to my neck and tried to sleep – perturbed, spooked, and wishing Helena was there.

As
though on command, I felt a slight breeze on my cheek, indicating someone had parted the tent’s entrance flap.  I opened my eyes on reflex alone, knowing only one person would dare enter the Legate’s tent unannounced.

Helena crossed the small space
between us in three long strides and carefully sat on the bed beside me.  I shifted my body so that my head rested in her lap and stared at her growing baby bump, letting her brush my hair lightly with her hand.  She looked down at me with a sweet expression and smiled.

“Feel all right?”  She asked.

“Fine,” I answered, hiding yet another lie.  “You?”

“I feel okay,” she answered.  “I was just wondering what was keeping you.  Your meeting ended an hour ago.”

“It did?”  I asked, looking away.

“It did.  You must have fallen asleep.”

“Yeah… I must have,” I said to myself, wondering where that time had gone.  I tried to think on it, but Helena’s downtrodden expression diverted my attention.  “What is it?”

Her mouth flickered and a
supportive smile formed there, but it was slow to come.  “I’m fine, Jacob, I promise.  It’s… it’s just that the rowers are getting impatient about you coming through on your….”

“Christ…” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut
, feeling very angry at myself.  “I completely forgot!  God, I’m stupid!  What the fu…”

“
Calm down,” Helena soothed, her voice concerned.  “It’s all right.  Nobody’s judging you for forgetting.  You’ve had a lot of things to do today.  You’re not exactly a monster.”

“I’m not?”

“Of course not!”  She exclaimed.  “What’s wrong with you?  The sla… rowers aren’t even working, and we’ve even arranged for the men and women to mingle.  They’re content, just impatient.”

I felt my frustration drift away at Helena’s words.

“Quick thinking,” I commented, forcing a small smile.

“
Well, it was
my
idea,” she quipped.  “Now come on, General.  Back to the trenches.”

***

The next morning, my legions were marching toward Camulodunum.

At first light, the legions
had begun the task of striking down their makeshift fort and packing all their belongings and gear for deployment.  Their alacrity at completing such tasks never ceased to amaze me, and within hours, the entire contingent was lined up in marching order – legionaries, auxilia, cavalry, and time travelers all – although I’d been one of the last to ready myself for the march as I hadn’t slept well the night before.

The act of freeing a thousand slaves hadn’t been
nearly as heartwarming as I’d thought it would be.  I expected jubilant faces and dances of joy from those I had just freed from forced bondage, but instead, all I received were complaints, demands for work, advice on where to go, and threats on my life or certain body parts because I’d brought them here.

It
all seemed like such a good idea two months ago in Judea.  Had I not purchased them, they would have been sent to salt mines or forced to serve fruit while nude and painted gold to decadent Romans.  I’d given them an opportunity to start over, in a land that was, for now, quite free of Roman influence.  But this wasn’t their home.  Amazingly, a few of the slaves had been captured right here in Britain over a year ago and dragged all the way to Caesarea, but these I could count on a single hand.  While they were happy to be home, Britain was a foreign land to the rest of them, as most had been prisoners of war brought to Judea from Germany by Vespasian’s legions or recently captured in the Middle East.

In a cruel
twist of irony, the only way to dissipate the irate group of former slaves had been to forcibly remove them at spear point and through the use of whips.  I hadn’t wanted it to happen, but they’d grown unruly and violent, and while in all probability most of them were happy or at least content with their current situation, the vociferous minority had ruined the moment for everyone, myself included.  I’d watched reluctantly as the entire cadre of former slaves had been pushed past the tree line and into the wilderness, even the ones who would have thrown themselves at my feet and kissed my toes in thanks.  It had been a horrendous sight, one I no longer wished to remember, but one I knew would stick with me for the rest of my days.

Only shipmaster Gnaeus had parted ways in good spirits, quite happy with all the money I’d sent his way.  He and I had concluded our business dealings amicably later that night, although he hadn’t had a single nice thing to say to me, and seemed quite eager to sail back to the Mediterranean and forget he’d ever known me.

Good riddance.

Helena had been supportive throughout the entire ordeal, but when we returned to
our
praetorium
, I hadn’t been in the mood for much of anything.  I’d laid in bed for most of the night, not sleeping or even dozing, just lying there thinking and listening to Helena’s rhythmic breathing, the kind that I knew indicated she was out cold and wouldn’t be disturbed by a giant plodding through the middle of our tent.

Instead, I
’d mulled over my recent bouts with what I was beginning to suspect was insanity – simple, good-old-fashioned, loony toon craziness.  I’d always wondered if those deemed clinically unstable had felt themselves slipping into psychological oblivion, wondering if they could see it coming, knowing there was nothing they could do to stop it.  I still didn’t have an answer to that question, but I was fairly certain I could feel it in myself.  Whether that meant they could as well, I couldn’t be sure, but the one overlying factor in all of this was the orb.

I
remember looking to my footlocker a number of times that night, but once my eyes fell upon it, I forgot exactly why it was I’d looked there at all, and I’d turn away again to stare at the ceiling.

A
ccording to Varus’ note, he’d used the orb for quite some time, spending two years within the course of two months using the thing, and he hadn’t seemed psychotic in the least in his letter.  He had been sane, completely unlike the Other Me, and, interestingly, the jury was still out on Agrippina and whether she was affected as well.  But as for me, I was beginning to suspect the worst, just as Agrippina herself seemed to have suggested back in her villa.

Was I going down the same dark path Caligula
took?