The Last Roman p-1

by Edward Crichton

  Ah.

  “They had a very influential say in who became the next emperor,” I answered.

  “Right. Damage to their loyalty has already been done during Tiberius’ reign, but we know that the Praetorians were completely loyal to Augustus. What if they became the stalwart protectors they were designed to be once again? We may be dealing with a Praetorian rebellion here, but if Caligula is able to reestablish control, I have to assume there will be a cleansing of the guard.”

  “So, your plan is to stop the precedent of Praetorians controlling the ascendancy of the emperors? Make them into a dedicated bodyguard unit who merely complied, did their duty, and followed orders?”

  “I think that would have an interesting effect on history. We’re already seeing evidence that it could be possible with Caligula’s Sacred Band. Three hundred loyal men can go a long way for an emperor.”

  That they could. The historian inside me was screaming right now. One side told me to preserve our history, and that if we interfered with it, we’d be no better than those men who tweaked what they recorded just because no one could stop them. That voice was too little too late, though, because the other voice was enthusiastically interested in how things could now turn out. Maybe I’d even have great epics written, devoted to my life’s endeavors. They might even make me a god. It worked for Julius Caesar after all.

  “So?” Vincent asked, interrupting my thoughts. “What do you think we should do now?”

  What would I do?

  I knew we couldn’t change what we’ve already done. As far as I knew, there wasn’t any way I could change the past, as stupidly ironic as that sounds, so I might as well make the best of it.

  I sighed. “I really wish you would have come to me earlier. We need to work on setting things straight, not change things for what we perceive may be for the better.”

  Vincent stood up, and placed both hands on my shoulders, a gesture a father would offer his son. “You’re a good officer, Hunter. Like McDougal said, you are quite the Renaissance man, intelligent, moral, and not unable to step back and make rational decisions, not unlike our friend, Caligula. I’m proud to have had this opportunity to serve with you.”

  He held out his hand, which I very slowly grasped.

  “Thanks, I guess. I still can’t believe this and I’m sure as shit not happy about it, but it is what it is.” A cluster fuck, basically. “So, what should I tell the others?”

  “Tell them what you will, if you feel they truly want to know. I leave it in your hands now. I know you’ll make the right decision.

  Later that night, after my watch was up, I slipped into the tent I shared with Helena, who was already in her sleeping bag. She was fast asleep, so I made every effort not to wake her, but when my head hit the pillow, her eyes fluttered open.

  “I saw you talking with Vincent today,” she said, her head facing away from me. “Seemed pretty intense. Did you find the answers you were looking for?”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Anything I should know about?”

  I thought about that for a second. She deserved to know, as do the rest of the guys, but would their knowing really change anything? They’d just have the same problem I did, with the worst case scenario being it would undermine Vincent’s authority. Even though I hardly felt it would come to that, we needed to stick together, no matter what.

  “If I told you, would it change how you felt about anything?”

  “No,” she whispered, half asleep. “Like I said when we first arrived here, we have to worry about the here and the now. There’s no way to change what was done, and even if there was the chance things might have turned out differently, there’s no point dwelling on it. We just have to make the best of it.”

  “You’re a woman after my own heart,” I joked, but I wasn’t sure if she cracked a smile or not. “I’ll tell you one thing though: you are right. There is no way to change what happened, but I don’t think making the best of it is what we need to do.”

  “Then what?”

  I turned away from her and closed my eyes. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

  ***

  Having spoken with Vincent, there was nothing else to look towards but the upcoming months, which just about brought me up to the here and now: freezing my ass off on yet another morning watch.

  Only for a short while did Helena and my watch schedules sync up so we could share the night together, but not since that night after my talk with Vincent did we manage it. These days, by the time my shift was finished, it was time to go to sleep, and when I woke up, she was just finishing her shift, and was ready for bed herself. It got pretty lonely at times, but at least as I sat here on the porta decumana rampart, freezing my ass off at three in the morning, I had Santino to keep me company.

  “Come on, Jacob. Don’t lie to me. I know what’s going on in that tent of yours.”

  “Santino, you of all people should know I’d never tell you anything even if we were doing what say we’re doing.”

  “That’s not an answer, my friend.”

  “What makes you think you deserve one?”

  “Come on!” He said insistently. “I’m freezing my balls off here. Give me something. Anything.”

  I shook my head. “You’re helpless. And an asshole. We need to find you a woman when we get back to Rome.”

  “We’d better!” He exclaimed with a shake of his head. “A man can only go so long before going crazy. I don’t know how you’ve done it since the nurse.”

  I frowned. It was still a bad memory.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to reopen old wounds.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I assured.

  Santino turned and leaned against the railing to face the wilderness. “It’s hard not to.”

  I moved to stand against the railing as well, but leaned so that I could face my friend. “Why do you say that?”

  He smacked the railing. “Jacob, you have a wonderful and beautiful woman sitting in your tent every night! And then the two of you prance about the camp all day like you hardly know each other, but we can all see it.” He paused. “We can see a lot of things.”

  “We’re just friends, John.”

  He huffed. “You’re wasting your time if you ask me.”

  “Well no one asked you.”

  He snapped his head around and stared at me intently. “You shouldn’t have to. Guys like us don’t find a girl like her every day, and you’ve meet two that I know of, and you fucked up the first one. All I’m saying is that you’d better not let it happen again.”

  I turned away from my friend and looked out over our wall, past the ditch and wooden stakes, and into the clearing, the tree line far off in the distance. He was right. I’d never find another one like her. I didn’t know why, but somehow that thought didn’t comfort me.

  ***

  Days later, I leaned up off my bedroll after a sleepless night, resting my arms on my knees, and hanging my head between them. I felt horrible, and I had no idea why, but I suspected it had something to do with that beef patty MRE I had for dinner last night. Lifting my head, and rubbing my hand over my face and through my hair, which was getting much longer than I’d ever grown it, I looked over at the empty spot where Helena normally slept.

  I sighed. Maybe I was just getting lonely since I never seemed to see her these days.

  “Ah, get up, Jacob,” I said to no one in particular. “Today’s too big a day for this shit.”

  I got to my feet and pulled off my shirt and looked around for a fresh one. Once I found one I thought was mostly clean, I snatched up my web belt, which held my tactical thigh holster holding my pistol and a few extra mags, and strapped it around my waist. My morning ritual completed, I unzipped the tent, stepped out into the frigid weather, and headed towards a trough of water. Normally used as the legion’s horses’ drinking water, I dunked my head as deep as I could into the freezing liquid, a scene I’d seen a do
zen times in Wild West movies. Whipping my head out of the icy cold bath just as quickly as I had dunked it, I sent a stream of water flying behind me, splashing an unknowing Bordeaux as he walked towards his tent.

  I stood and dried myself off as best I could, before I turned to see Bordeaux still standing there, a wet scowl on his face.

  “Oh, sorry, Jeanne. Didn’t see you there.”

  He walked up to me angrily, and snatched my dry shirt from my shoulder to dry his face with. In turn, he shoved a loaf of Roman bread into my hand, fresh off the fire. It was tough and chewy, thanks to the gluten rich wheat they used, but it offered enough sustenance to be the backbone of a legionnaire’s diet, which was good enough for me.

  “You all right, Jacob?” He asked with a mouthful of bread. “Today’s a big day.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, taking a bite of my own and mumbling around the food, “jus dinnt sweep swell.”

  He looked at me pathetically. “Well, get yourself cleaned up. We’re expected in Galba’s tent in a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” I finished after gulping down my meal.

  With that, I turned and headed back to my tent. I found the zipper and gave it a pull, only to find it stuck and refusing to budge. Gripping it with both hands, I tugged harder, only to have it stubbornly remain jammed. I started yanking furiously on the zipper. Never a morning person, my annoyance quickly turned to rage, and I couldn’t stop myself from kicking the tent, unplanting one of the stakes in my tirade. Wang, emerging from his own tent, noticed my predicament, and came over to help, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

  “Here, Hunter. Let me try.”

  I conceded the zipper, throwing my hands up in frustration, and backed away.

  Wang gripped the zipper lightly, gave it a yank to further close it before sending it on its way to open the flap, which it did easily.

  He turned to look at me, taking a sip from the steaming mug. “You all right, Jacob? Today’s…”

  “…a big day. Right. I got it.” I tried to breathe through my nose, hold it, and exhale through my mouth, an old Zen calming technique. “Thanks for your help. I’ll see you in the praetorium.”

  He pulled his cup from his mouth to speak, but just as quickly replaced it to take another sip. The look on his face indicated he wanted to say more, but he knew how I was in the mornings. Shrugging, he turned towards the praetorium without another word.

  Entering my tent, I threw off my web belt in anger, and tried to find a shirt to wear.

  Could this day get any worse?

  Finding a shirt that I assumed was clean, I slipped it on, replaced my web belt, and retrieved a fleece jacket I had found in our supplies. It was festooned with pockets, and could be worn in freezing temperatures, as well as in moderately cool days. It was even colored in olive drab. My favorite color, a good choice for any military man. Good camouflage.

  As I left my tent, I closed the zipper with excessive carefulness, hoping to avoid any further complications. Checking my watch, I realized I only had a minute before I was late. Luckily, the praetorium was only a twenty step jog away. When I entered I was annoyingly rewarded with the fact I was the last to arrive.

  My always punctual mother would have been disappointed.

  At the center of the tent were two large tables, with two large maps displayed on top. The first was a rudimentary topographical map of the Italian peninsula, and rudimentary was putting it nicely. The map was a far cry from the satellite imagery we used in our own time, but it would do. The map was only mostly identifiable, with the general shape of the country present, along with Sicily, Corsica, Sardinia, and plenty of landmarks, rivers, mountain ranges, and cities, most of which were close enough to where they were supposed to be.

  The second map was a simple diagram of the city of Rome. It wasn’t as detailed as the one I had framed and hanging on my wall back home, a diagram I’d hoped to use in my classroom once upon a time, but even so, it showed the city’s largest buildings, walls, and gates accurately.

  Arrayed around the tables were the usual suspects. Caligula, Galba, his primus pilus Maximus Nisus, Quintilius, Gaius, Marcus, Varus, three of the legion’s tribunes, and a few slaves and freedmen administrators

  Santino and Wang stood next to each other, mugs of steaming liquid in their hands, probably debating their preferences for either coffee or tea again. By yet another grace of God, MREs included ground coffee, and we also found tea bags in the cargo as well. Teas weren’t new in Rome, but coffee beans were indigenous to the Americas, resulting in some very jealous Romans. Centurion Nisus, in fact, had grown addicted to the stuff after his first taste, enamored by its caffeine content like so many college students. He and I had worked out a deal that sent my MRE coffee bean packages his way, for a portion of his salted pork rations. I had to side with the Brits on this one, as I never really enjoyed coffee, and the idea of fire roasted bacon made me very happy.

  Bordeaux and Vincent were next to the two debaters, while Helena stood around the corner, quietly chatting with Varus. She’d struck up a friendship with him just as I had, and had learned that the scholar was in fact married and expecting his first child. When she told me the news, I immediately wondered if that child was another link in the possible genetic chain that connected the two of us.

  Hoping to glide in under the radar, I quietly took an open spot around the table, between Santino and Vincent, opposite Galba and Caligula, and waited for the briefing to begin. Caligula and Galba had been conversing quietly prior to my arrival, and continued after I had taken my place at the table, completely ignoring my entrance.

  Score.

  I glanced at Helena and she gave me a concerned look, which I answered with a slight shake of my head.

  Focusing on the maps, I only had to wait a few seconds before Caligula asked for attention.

  “As you all know,” he started, raising his hand for silence, “we have received very little intelligence over the winter concerning Claudius and his hold on Rome. What we have learned, as Galba so astutely predicted, is that Claudius has not contacted any other legion to support his cause. We have to assume that he realizes his hold on power is only as strong as his ability to keep me from reclaiming it. Once I’m eliminated, no one will ask any questions as to his legitimacy, but until then, he’s vulnerable.”

  He paused, looking each of us in the eye in turn.

  “That said, I also face a problem. We as well cannot seek help. If we did, my own hold on power may slip, and we could see a series of attempted coups and power struggles for years to come. That would not be in the best interest of my empire. No. The best thing we can do is end this smoothly, quickly, and as quietly as possible.”

  “What happens exactly when this rebellion comes to an end?” Varus asked, thinking beyond the immediate military situation. “Even after we retake Rome, the news of Claudius’ betrayal will travel like a wild fire, and we may find recalcitrant members of the empire also wishing to play their own hands. The Germans are still beating their war drums since their victories thirty years ago and the Jews in the East, especially, have been grumbling for years. A power struggle in Rome may incite them to take up arms against our legions stationed in Judea.”

  Nisus made a dismissive noise. “You’re point, Varus? Our Eastern legions would crush any insurrection in a matter of months.”

  Some of the military men pounded their fists on the table in agreement. It wasn’t a surprise they didn’t think much of their Jewish protectorates in the East, since they hadn’t given much cause for concern in the past. I knew, however, that not too far in the future, a Jewish rebellion would take place and last for many bloody years.

  “Both Varus and Nisus make valid points,” Galba interjected, raising his hands for silence amongst his men. “Our legions would have no problems dealing with open rebellion anywhere in the empire, but Varus’ point that we need to contain the news is valid as well. There is no way to stop those who have traveled from Rome since we left, but
once we retake the city, we can control any news’ spread.”

  Caligula nodded. “Galba is correct. Gods’ willing, once we retake Rome and depose Claudius, we will quickly restore order and make it appear as though nothing happened. Remember, news travels slowly during the winter months. Any persons returning to Rome, or traveling to Rome solely on the basis to determine whether or not Claudius staged a coup will arrive to find nothing of the sort.” Caligula paused, and looked as serious as I had ever seen him. “A seamless restoration of power is required. We can ill afford any doubt in the minds of patricians, equestrians, or plebeians alike. I am Caesar, not Claudius, and any who wish to challenge that claim will be dealt with.”

  The men, and one woman, around the room nodded, myself included. Even if I hadn’t already known he was Rome’s true emperor, I wouldn’t have doubted it now. He spoke with such conviction and purpose, it was easy to see him as the leader of the known world, and not some mere mortal like the rest of us.

  He looked around the tent again, seeing the hardened but confident expressions each person present had on their faces, and nodded. “With that, I turn this briefing over to the legate.”

  Galba cleared his throat.

  “The problem we face is that of besieging a city with minimal forces.” He indicated to the map of Rome with his hands. “The last few incidents of Roman military expeditions conquering Rome were the result of those in power fleeing and leaving the gates open behind them. We will not have that luxury. Additionally, a lasting artillery barrage is out of the question. We are not going to destroy half of Rome to simply knock down a few walls. That said, while our advantages are few, I believe they may be enough to retake the city.

  “What we lack in experienced troops, we make up for in numbers. My legion and auxilia are at full strength, and alone consists of more men than the Praetorian contingent loyal to Claudius. Additionally, our auxilia are of German stock, men always itching for a fight. In my career I’ve never seen fiercer or wilder men. They will be very useful. Furthermore, Caligula’s Sacred Band, along with two thousand additional Praetorians, each seasoned veterans, will form the heart of our lines. Lastly, we have five men, and one resourceful woman, each with abilities far superior to our own, and perhaps worth a cohort of men, each.”