“Of course,” he replied.
Helena smiled at the Roman and put her hand on his shoulder. “I hope my dear Jacob hasn’t been too much of a bother. He can be quite dense sometimes, believe me.”
I tilted my head back and rolled my eyes, but kept my attention on our course.
“Can’t you, dear?” She asked, moving to stand next to me and wrap an arm around me. She shot up on her toes and planted a small kiss on my cheek.
“Umm… sure,” I answered.
Gnaeus grunted and looked away.
“Yes, well, he certainly can be,” he said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare my things before we reach land.” He paused mid-step. “Try not to crash us into the lighthouse, Hunter.”
“Yes, sir!” I replied cheerily.
The cantankerous Roman merchant left, and Helena and I watched him go.
“You’re welcome,” she said.
I chuckled. “You won’t be when I actually crash us into very large rocks.”
“Oh please, you’ll do fine. Just don’t let me distract you.”
“No more kisses then, if you please.”
She smiled and kissed me anyway, but I managed to keep us on course.
Somehow.
***
For the next twenty minutes, I kept my attention locked on our destination and nothing else: a small dock near the southern edge of the city. It wasn’t near the lighthouse, much to my dismay, but Gnaeus knew the dockhand and guaranteed us a safe place to keep the legionnaires aboard secret. Hopefully, we would only need to stay here a few days, but I had no way of guaranteeing that. If we stayed any longer than that, we’d have to devise some kind of schedule so they could get out and stretch their legs.
But one thing at a time.
For now, I had to make sure I parked this thing in a way that kept it from being smashed to pieces, but thankfully Gnaeus had returned not long after he’d left, and helped me maneuver us in, keeping his comments civil this time, probably because Helena was still around. He signaled to a man near the steps leading below deck, and a few seconds later I heard the rhythmic beating of the rowers’ drum cease. They then pulled in their oars so that wind power could guide us the rest of the way in, while sailors collapsed a number of sails as well to slow us down. I bit my tongue as I made gentle course corrections, making sure I lined up our approach perfectly. Santino, meanwhile, stood at the bow of the deck with his right foot on the railing, guiding us in with his upraised sword – ever helpful.
“Careful…” Gnaeus whispered. “Careful…”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled as I pulled us in alongside the dock. “I’ll show you careful…”
“Careful…”
But we were still going too fast. Unsure if it was my fault or not, I clung to the wheel in a death grip. A few seconds later, everyone aboard lurched forward as we crashed into the dock, and I watched as Santino was pitched over the railing and a few others on the upper deck fell to the main deck only a few feet below. I heard something crack loudly as we came to a stop and noticed Helena run forward to check on Santino.
Gnaeus was already glaring at me.
“Sounds expensive,” I remarked.
He kept his gaze fixed on me for only a little longer before he tore his eyes away and stormed down the steps, shouting for someone to help him survey the damage. I looked for Helena and found her waving me over. I ran to meet her and followed her finger over the railing to the dock below. There I found Santino sprawled out on top of a smashed vendor stall, jumping fish scattered all around him.
“You okay?” I yelled down to him.
He moved his head slowly to look up at us.
“Yeah,” he grunted. “Fish broke my fall.”
He reached beneath him and pulled out a wiggling fish, and I let out a sigh of relief.
If he’d been hurt, I’d have never heard the end of it.
Helena patted my back.
“Ready?” She asked.
I looked at her. “Yep. Let’s get this crazy train moving.”
***
Thirty minutes later, every single temporally displaced member of our group was walking through the streets of Alexandria along with Gaius, Marcus, Madrina, and Titus, who hobbled along with Vincent’s help. Much like Caesarea and Damascus, Alexandria had a very Middle Eastern vibe to it, only far more posh and upscale than their modern equivalents, and this city in particular was something special. Buildings were immaculate, dirt and dust were negligible, people walked to and fro at their leisure, and the city hustled and bustled like any twenty first century metropolitan city. The buildings were shaded in tans, browns, and whites while red brick and green shrubs littered the streets and walls in an impressive show of opulence.
“It’s beautiful,” Artie remarked from beside Helena.
“Eh,” Santino uttered, walking at her other side, “seen one of these stupid cities, you’ve seen them all. I’m sure we’ll be responsible for destroying it within the week, anyway.”
I ground my teeth at the comment.
I knew he was just joking, but I wished he’d at least keep comments like that to himself.
“It is quite lovely,” Archer said, but no one really cared what he had to say and stayed quiet, so he decided to continue. “But what exactly are we doing here again?”
“We’ve been over this,” I replied. “This is where Varus wanted me to go. We’re to meet a researcher that works at the Library of Alexandria and ask him about what Varus was working on before he was recalled to Rome. Then we go from there.”
“What could we possibly hope to find in a library?” Archer demanded.
“I was wondering the same thing,” Helena mumbled, still not thrilled with the idea of me in a library.
“How should I know?” I snapped. “But did Varus tell you to go somewhere else?”
Archer shook his head, not happy.
“Well there you go! We go to the fucking library then! If Varus left us some crumbs to follow, we should be able to figure something out.”
“Ignore him, Jacob,” Artie said, but then heaved a deep breath. “I only wish we spoke the local language, or any of these languages for that matter. I don’t see how I can help.”
“If we come across something technical, your expertise could come in handy.”
“Then maybe I should stay on the ship?” She suggested. “It could be dangerous. We…”
“You’ll be fine, Artie,” I promised. “You have plenty of protection.”
“Jacob, I’ve seen your scars,” she said, but paused to look amongst the group as we walked. “I’ve seen all of your scars, and I know you, at least, didn’t have them before you got here, and I assume they didn’t either. This place is dangerous and I’m not a soldier.”
“Just stick with Archer and his team. They don’t understand the language either, but are still fully capable of defending you.”
“Don’t forget me,” Santino said, sliding up beside Artie to loop his arm through her own. “Protecting beautiful women is a specialty of mine.”
Artie patted his arm and rested her head against his shoulder momentarily as she smiled.
I frowned, but then thought of something.
“See Artie? You’re well protected. You’ve even got your very own pirate bodyguard willing to lay down his life to save your own. Isn’t that right, Mr. Pirate?”
Santino’s look wasn’t very confident, but he managed a nod.
Who the hell did he think he was fooling? It wasn’t like I was going make this easy on him. It’s what big brothers are for.
“So,” I started again, “why don’t we find some kind of lodging arrangements and rest up for a bit. Then some of us will go to the library while the rest of you do some sightseeing. How about that?”
“I suppose that will work,” Artie agreed nervously.
“Great. Let’s get to it then.”
***
“What am I doing here, Hunter?” Archer asked impatiently, hours
later.
“Providing backup,” I replied carefully, not wanting to rile him up.
The truth was that I wanted to keep an eye on him, but it wasn’t like I could just tell him that. The last thing I needed right now was to alienate him. I didn’t want to risk open conflict between the two teams, but I still didn’t trust him. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had some kind of ulterior motivations here, so the closer I kept my eye on him the better.
“And because I know you,” I clarified. “At least, I knew a version of you, and I’m confident he, at least, could watch my back.”
“I’m thrilled by your confidence,” Archer said. “Your voice is just dripping with earnestness.”
I grudgingly held back further comment, as his tone was no more supportive than my own, and I was reminded how careful I had to tread with him.
Luckily, the great Library of Alexandria was coming into view, and I couldn’t be more excited. We were still a few hundred meters out, but I could see the complex of buildings in detail already. It was enormous, with a cream colored façade and large marble columns running along the length of maybe two dozen buildings that stretched out in a semicircle. Dozens of steps led up to the magnificent structure’s central entrance and there were hundreds of scholarly looking men loitering about, deep in conversation.
It was as if Raphael’s painting, The School of Athens, had come to life – only set in Alexandria.
Were these actual ancient philosophers or historians who’d come to Alexandria to study and cogitate on meaning of life stuff? Sure the likes of Aristotle and Plato were long gone, but acute thinkers still existed today, and besides Athens, I could think of no better place for learned men to gather. As we grew closer, I could see some men weren’t simply talking, but were engaged in heated debate, and a part of me wanted nothing more than to jump right in and argue with one of these guys about whatever the topic of conversation was.
“Down, boy,” Helena said from beside me, knowing what I was thinking.
I gave her a grin but reluctantly complied.
As my small retinue made its way up the exterior staircase, Helena covered her long, dark hair and her face with a shawl. This wasn’t the Middle East that was so vigorously repressive of women from back home, but even these days, women weren’t necessarily welcome in male dominated places either, so while Helena’s veil wouldn’t conceal her identity as a woman completely, it would at least discourage the men from staring.
Also along for the ride were Vincent and Wang – Vincent for his historical knowledge and Wang for his band aids, as we so often needed.
It took us nearly a full minute to make our way up the long, wide staircase and enter the building, and the interior did not fail to impress either. Like the nave of a great Romanesque cathedral, the library’s main anteroom was as large as it was opulent, with a vaulted ceiling, hallways that led to other rooms, and exterior porticos that dotted its perimeter and led to other buildings. The circular interior of the large room we found ourselves in was lined with shelving ranges that created concentric rings that grew increasingly smaller as they reached the room’s center, which was dominated by a large desk that I could see through a gap in the shelves. It was staffed by what I assumed were librarians, and I saw young pages hustling about with gathered documents and scrolls in their arms.
It was a sight that induced real excitement, even to my cynical self.
Having worked at a library back in college, I knew something about the inner workings of one, but seeing it on such scale here was breathtaking. So many documents. So many people. So much gathered knowledge in one place. But how many of these treasured artifacts were lost and forgotten by the time I was born? Maybe all of them. A simple fire could extinguish all this knowledge in the blink of the eye, something that I guess had actually happened.
What a shame.
I frowned, but was distracted by a tall, slender librarian approaching our position from the central desk.
“May I help you?” He asked, giving us an odd look. We were in local clothing, but it was impossible for us to ever really blend in with a crowd. We were just too weird.
“Yes,” I answered easily. “We’re looking for a Flavius Rumella. Is he in today?”
The man arched an eyebrow at us almost imperceptibly, and hesitated.
“He is… but may I ask what this is concerning?”
“I’m sorry, but I am not at liberty to say. A friend of mine was conducting some important research with him, and I’ve come to help.”
“I see.” His eyes narrowed and he looked about ready to turn around and leave us hanging, but then he waved for us to follow him. “Well, do come this way. He is in the Barbarian Mythology Research Wing, and has been there for quite some time. He refuses to leave and often sleeps there, and we are forced to bring him food for fear that he will die there and leave a smell. I am not too sure how keen he will be to receive guests.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
The man hummed dismissively, and I glanced at Helena, whose bright green eyes suggested amusement. She jerked her head in his direction and we hurried to catch up.
Once we left the central atrium, the trip lasted a few minutes, with nothing but hundreds of thousands of scrolls and studious men intent on reading every single one lining every nook and cranny in the place, including the hallways. We continued through a second scroll laden hallway before entering another large circular atrium, although it wasn’t nearly as big as the main one. I’d thought we’d arrived when the librarian continued his path around to the right and down yet another hallway before depositing us into a square room the size of a small gymnasium.
The librarian held out a hand and beckoned us in.
“The Barbarian Mythology Research Wing,” he reported.
There must have been another ten thousand scrolls in this room.
“All of this is just for ‘barbarian’ mythology?” I asked.
The librarian smiled. “Oh no. Certainly not. This room merely contains the recorded information we possess on the mythologies of Rome’s northern neighbors. Mostly Celtic, but some Germanic and Sarmatian as well. It is actually one of our smaller collections, but no less important I assure you. The other wing is comprised of mostly Egyptian lore, and we have entire buildings dedicated to Roman and Greek mythology nearby.”
I turned to give him an amused look. “Shouldn’t Roman mythology be in the barbarian wing too?”
He snapped his head up and sniffed derisively at me, turned on his heels, and stormed out of the room without another word.
“What was that about, Hunter?” Archer asked, watching him go.
I smiled. “The Greek word for “barbarian” really means little more than, ‘those who don’t speak Greek.’ People in modern times obviously think of barbarians as something more…barbaric than just that, but Romans generally use the word with only its original meaning. I just find it funny how they always try to lump themselves in with the Greeks, even though they’re a different culture completely, and while I’m sure most of the guys here speak Greek, your general Roman citizen certainly does not. It’s funny.”
Archer clearly didn’t seem to understand what was so funny about it, but while Vincent looked humored by my comment, he shook his head at me.
“What?” I asked him.
“Jacob, you don’t speak Greek either.”
“Yeah… but… “I tried to think of a counter argument, “…well, at least I don’t go around calling people barbarians.”
He smiled and nodded humorously at my point as Helena grabbed my arm and pulled me along behind her.
“Christ, let’s just find Rumella already!” She cried.
I chuckled and fell into step behind her, but it wasn’t long before we stumbled upon the only occupant currently residing within the dusty and exceptionally musty room. There must have been mold lurking in this place as well because I suddenly felt my sinuses acting up. As for the man, he was hunched over a document, ho
lding a candle to enhance the dim natural light that was leaking through an open window. He didn’t even flinch at our arrival, so I cleared my throat to get his attention. He jumped at the noise and immediately looked annoyed.
“I told you, I am not finished yet! I don’t have time to inventory the east wing of the Scipio Africanus collection. I am too busy for such nonsense.”
The collection on Scipio Africanus alone required more than one wing?
Goodness.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I believe you have us confused with someone who actually works here. We’re looking for Flavius Rumella and were directed here.”
The man looked at us with a gaunt and lined face. His eyes were small and sat recessed deep within their sockets, and his expression looked tired and weak, but masked in a thick, gray beard. He was a small man as well, with boney arms.
“I am Flavius Rumella,” he indicated. “Who are you?”
“We’re friends of Marcus Va…”
“Jacob Hunter!?” He asked excitedly, shooting to his feet in a way that contradicted his age. “Is that you?”
“Well, yes, actually. It’s nice to meet y…”
“Never mind that!” He yelled excitedly. “Do you have it? Do you have it?”
I glanced at Vincent and then Helena before back at Rumella. “Have what?”
“The orb of course! Remus’ orb!”
I stood there in a state of shock. How could this tertiary, red-shirt character whom I’d just met know about such an integral plot detail?
“And what exactly do you know about that?” I asked suspiciously.
“Know?” He repeated. “Why, I know everything about it, Jacob Hunter. Everything!”
***
I paused cautiously.
Nope. Not buying it.
“If Varus told you of me,” I started, “you should already know that I am not one for hyperbole, so you’d better start at the beginning.”
“Of course!” The old historian cried. “But where are my manners, please sit down. Would you like refreshment?”
“We’re fine,” I said, taking a seat while the rest of my troupe settled in around me. I gestured in their direction. “These are my friends: Helena, Vincent, Archer, and Wang.”
Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion Page 11