After two thousand years I had little hope of finding any similarities between the two of us. The differences alone were enough to dissuade any further inspection, but I was persistent. The man was short, whereas I was tall. He had black hair, instead of my brown, his face was round, mine was lean and hard. We didn’t share a single similarity.
Except for one.
There it was. Staring right back at me. His eyes were nearly identical to mine. Inquisitive, just as Pope Gregory had said, with the same shade of ambiguous gray that could look either blue or green depending on our surroundings.
I got them from my mom.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to confirm the definite possibility that he may be some long lost descendent of mine. It wouldn’t be enough in a court of law, but it was something. I was astonished. But then something else hit me. One would think meeting a two thousand year old descendent would be enough fun for one night, but if Varus was reading the document correctly, not only was he a descendent of mine, but we were both direct descendants of Remus.
Now that fact definitely struck a chord. A direct descendent of Remus?
Awesome.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The sheer amount of family trees that spiderwebed down the millennia was amazing. It made the possibility that everyone in the 21st century was descended from somebody famous very likely. If you truly took your bible to heart, one would argue that we were all cousins, descended from Adam and Eve.
I hadn’t even known Remus had any children. It was always my impression that he and his brother were barely out of their teenage years before Remus was killed, but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe Vincent can fill me in on the details later. What I did know was that their mother, Rhea, bore them not by any human father, but by the god, Mars. That was just a myth, of course, but it would certainly explain my own absolute awesomeness, not to mention my gray eyes. Mar’s sister was Minerva, or Athena in Greek, and was regularly referred to as “Gray-eyed Athena” in mythology.
I’m going to choose to believe the god/eye color similarity had to be a coincidence.
Yah. A coincidence. I wasn’t even going to touch on that one.
I continued to stare into the eyes of my great times a thousand grandfather or uncle, and frowned. I had always hoped to be descended from a Roman, but I always wanted him to have been a bad ass centurion, leading men into combat and dying for glory, not some bookish nerd. Granted, as Santino so astutely pointed out, I was pretty much a big nerd at heart as well.
“Any of your family in the army?” I asked him.
“No. Why?”
Damn.
I was about to ask him what he made of all of this when his eyes widened, and he quickly stood up, his head bowing reverently. Surprised at his sudden change in attitude, I glanced over my shoulder to see another man enter the room. He was tall, blond, handsome, and had the same short, curly haired hair cut Julius Caesar had made so popular. It was the man I’d seen at the Circus maximus. The one I’d skeptically deduced as Claudius.
I rose as well, and bowed my head just to fit in.
The man smiled a smile I determined lacked any kind of warmth or genuine happiness. The sinister kind. He held out his hands, a failed attempt at friendliness. There was something about him that immediately made him unlikable.
“Varus,” the man said, stepping forward to embrace him in a bear hug. “My friend. How good to see you. It has been awhile since I have seen you in the library.”
“Yes, well, my duties to your nephew have kept me fairly occupied these past few months.”
His nephew? This had to be Claudius. I couldn’t believe it. I had never, not once, read an account of the man that didn’t claim he was weak, feeble, and prone to stutters and twitches. He was a lame ugly duckling, not a stud quarter back! Who was this man?
He continued to smile. “And I see you have made a new friend. Please, no need to get up,” he said cheerily, even though I was already standing. “Any friend of Varus is a friend of mine. I am Caligula’s uncle, Claudius”
“He is no friend of mine,” rumbled Varus.
Claudius ignored him. “Besides, I know you are one of the strangers who came through Remus’ gateway. Now, that is reason enough to get to know you.”
His smile was beginning to irritate me. Unlike Santino’s, whose smile was always filled with good cheer and fun, annoyingly so, Claudius’ merely disturbed me. He also knew about Remus’ message, which only made me more suspicious, because it was quite well known back home that Claudius was one of those few people Varus mentioned who could read Etruscan as well.
I decided to play dumb. “Yes, I am one of the few who came through the gateway. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” I opened my arms in a mirror gesture of his own. “Is there anything we can do for you?”
“Oh, no. I just wanted to meet you. Your potential is limitless. I want you to know that you can come to me for anything and ask that perhaps you may do some things for me, as your friends have done for my nephew?”
This was getting weirder by the second. The guy was coming off even less sincere but still heartwarming than even the most black hearted and malevolent of bad guys. They always start off all warm and fuzzy until they stick a shiv in your back, and you end up having to wait until the last ten minutes of the movie to save the day – only having already lost your family, girlfriend, best friend, and dog along the way.
I wasn’t about to let that happen.
“I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” I replied, trying to sound sincere. “My schedule is wide open.”
Claudius frowned for a brief moment before smiling again, finally understanding my joke.
“Humorous. Now, if you will excuse me. I have matters to attend to.”
As the man turned, his traveling cloak swirled behind him in that bad-guy kind of way. He was gone a few seconds later.
I snorted. “Quite the character, isn’t he?”
Varus smiled. “I’ve never liked him. He spends much of his time here reading history and spending many hours wasting my time. The man loves to listen to himself speak. It was through him that I learned the Senate had plans to utilize Remus’ orb, which is why I ended up there when you arrived. I can’t be sure, but it seemed as though he had something to do with it, and that his knowledge of the plot was not because he had simply overheard another’s conversation.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise me, but I didn’t let my suspicion show. I couldn’t understand why the man wasn’t the sharp minded, but weak bodied man he was supposed to be. My mind kept wandering to the old BBC production of I, Claudius that I loved so much, and how well I thought the actor who played Claudius had done in mimicking his mannerisms.
Suddenly my suspicions started to grow. History, after all, was written by the victors, and it was none other than Claudius himself who succeeded Caligula after his assassination.
***
I spent the next few hours chatting with Varus and comparing notes on the situation, but I kept my theories to myself. By the time I left, Varus had learned little more about Remus’ message, but at least we had ended on good terms, and I found myself starting to like the little man. He was sharp and curious. He asked if I would teach him English, and in return, he would help me with my Latin. I told him I would enjoy that, and that I looked forward to the opportunity. When my escorts arrived to take me back home, I excused myself and left with them.
Arriving at the house, I tossed Gaius and Marcus a quick salute, which they respectfully returned before opening the door and gesturing for me to head inside where I found a full house.
The away team had returned.
The team was sitting on the floor in a circle with a spot left for me. Noticing my arrival, Santino threw his arms in the air in a childlike greeting. “The prodigal son arrives,” he squealed.
I looked at him squarely. “You realize the word, ‘prodigal,’ really only means that someone is bad with money, right?”
Everyone l
ooked at Santino, smiles on their faces. He glanced at his squad mates, wearing an embarrassed expression of his own.
He looked at me. “I fucking hate you.”
I smiled. “Love you too, buddy.”
“If you two are done,” Vincent interrupted, trying not to grin, “we were just about to begin our after action report. Maybe you can fill us in on where you’ve been when we’re done.”
“I’d be delighted, sir,” I said, sitting between him and Bordeaux.
I noticed Helena sitting across from me, a downtrodden expression on her face. I made eye contact with her, and gave her a welcoming smile. Her expression brightened at my attention, but her face remained dour.
Shifting my attention, I started things off. “So, you guys are back early.”
Vincent nodded. “Our guide was very proficient. Thanks to his direction and the location of the camp residing well inland of where we expected it to be. We made much better time than planned. Upon arrival, we scouted the camp from a distance, identified the high value target and his tent, and located key points to lay our explosives. Early the following morning, we made our way to the camp, and rigged it to blow. Our goal was to create more confusion than casualties as well as direct their attention away from us. We had to eliminate two guards during our insertion, which we hid in a tent. When first light hit, we synchronized the assassination with the triggering of our explosives. At 0535, Lieutenant Strauss fired upon the HVT, the bullet penetrating the target’s cranium. Lieutenant Bordeaux simultaneously triggered the explosive charges set around the camp, programmed on a timed sequence to detonate at random intervals.” He paused, taking a sip of water from his CamelBak. “We lingered only long enough to confirm the HVT was down and that hysteria had erupted in camp. Satisfied, we left at 0545, encountered zero resistance and made our way back.”
I nodded. A perfectly successful mission. The only negative outcome I could think of was some random archaeologist in two thousand years who discovers what looks like a manufactured rifle bullet that were dated to have existed during the Roman Empire. I can only imagine the book he’ll write trying to prove that time travel exists by theorizing that modern soldiers were sent back in time to fight history’s wars for them.
I’m sure he’ll be considered a crack pot.
“So, Hunter,” Vincent continued, “did you discover an answer to our problem with Caligula’s man?”
I looked around the room again, meeting each of their gazes in turn. Each was expectant, hoping I had somehow learned how to get us home.
“Well,” I began, “I’m pretty sure I’ve confirmed my theory on how we got here.”
“Maybe, you should start at the beginning,” ordered Vincent.
So I started with Varus, and how he had contacted me to discuss our arrival in the city. I told them about the document, Remus, the she-wolf and Mars, how Varus and I were related, and how we were both descended from Remus. I ended with how my rubber band sphere theory still seemed the most likely cause of our arrival.
Santino quickly spoke up. Wait, wait, wait,” he said, rubbing his head in confusion. “So, if what you’re saying is true, you’re…part… she-wolf? Or are you part god? It’s so hard to keep up with your stories sometimes, Jacob.”
Everyone just stared at him.
Bordeaux rested his head in a hand. “Merde,” was all he said
“Santino, you really can’t be that stupid,” Wang ridiculed.
Santino simply smiled.
“He’s kidding,” I said. “But there’s more. As always. I also met Claudius, Caligula’s uncle and next emperor of Rome. It know that sounds backwards, but that’s how it turned out. The important thing is that he was nothing like history remembered him as. History remembers him as sharp mentally, but weak, feeble, and physically twitchy, but he’s nothing of the sort. Tall, blond, good looking, but mentally deranged at best. He’s basically the Lex Luthor of the Roman Empire. Just with hair. I don’t trust him. The guy’s evil.”
“Who’s Lex Luthor?” Helena asked.
Santino rolled his eyes. “He’s Superman’s arch nemesis. Billionaire, evil, scheming, plotting, bald. He’s the ultimate bad guy.” He sighed. “Women…”
She shifted her attention back to me. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
I tossed my hands in the air.
“Whatever,” Vincent interrupted before I could say anything else. “We’ll keep him on our short list, but until we see him do something that contradicts what we know about history, we respect him like the rest of our benefactors.”
“I like evil bad guys,” Santino offered. “Their inflated egos make for big targets.”
“They’d need to be, considering how you shoot,” Wang quipped, another sign he was feeling better. Santino pushed him playfully, and laughed at his own expense.
“An interesting day, then,” Vincent commented, “but we’ll worry about Roman politics later. Bordeaux, break out the MREs.”
The Frenchman smiled, his look indicating he was famished as well. “Yes, sir.”
I wasn’t hungry. Varus had some cheese, bread, and wine for us to snack on during our talk, so I headed to the small room I had been sharing with Helena. Finding my way to my bunk, I glanced around the room. Even though it was small, it had enough room for a few amenities, but I couldn’t help but smile. While my uniforms were folded neatly, the rest of my stuff was disheveled and unorganized, whereas Helena’s gear and personal effects were neatly stacked, arranged, folded, and organized. I guess it was a universal fact that no matter where you lived on Earth, or when, women were neater.
I heard Helena’s voice from the doorway.
“Isn’t it time you cleaned the house, dear?”
I continued smiling. “Sorry, honey, but there’s a game on the TV and I can’t be bothered. Why don’t you go do the dishes?”
She laughed. “Men. You’re all such lazy pigs.”
“Can’t fault that logic,” I declared
Helena moved into the room and sat on the edge of her bunk. She placed her meal in between our beds and waited as it cooked in its self-heating pouch. Like the flickering of a fire, the magnesium ignited water boiling within generally had a hypnotic property to it, but I ignored it, and turned towards Helena.
“So how did the mission go? Really?”
She shifted uneasily. “Do you always know when something’s wrong with people?”
I shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of insecure girlfriends.”
“I bet you have,” she said, retrieving her cooked meal. It smelled like the chicken with salsa entree, my favorite. She ate quietly, but quickly. What she had to say must have been important, but she needed her nourishment. I could understand why she didn’t want to be distracted. Finished, she placed the rest of the MRE’s contents in a pack, took a sip of water from her CamelBak, folded her hands in her lap, and looked me square in the eyes.
“I’m… sorry I didn’t tell you this before, and please try to forgive me, but I think there’s something else you should know.”
“Oh, this should be good,” I said, sitting on my bed, propping myself up with my hands behind me.
“Adminius was my first and only confirmed kill. In fact, he was the first man I’ve ever shot in cold blood…” she paused, “and up until that day in Syria, I had never even killed another human being before. I’m sorry.”
She had to be joking. She was too good a shot to not have had years of practice. Every sniper knew shooting immaterial targets was completely different from shooting real people. It’s not just something you can pick up in a day. I had to call her bluff.
“Yah right, Strauss. Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you were never even in the military.”
She just looked at me, her expression completely deadpan. There was nothing amusing in her eyes.
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked tentatively. “There’s no way… you couldn’t…you’ve been in for years. Killed dozens of targets.”
Her eyes continued to stare right through me.
I reclined onto my back, and started laughing. There was no other reaction I could think of. We’d gone into combat with a completely green rookie covering our backs, and still managed to survive. The situation was nothing, if not funny. I thought I was going to start crying from the laughter when my inappropriate reaction must have struck a cord with her.
“This isn’t funny, Jacob. I was given my commission eight months before I came to Rome, and thrown into an accelerated basic and then KSK training program. My government knew they wouldn’t be able to get one of their own on the team, unless they could offer something no one else could. The Pope was only taking the most select people. That’s where I came in, a female who was also a good enough shot that they could mold me into a sniper, something no one else wanted to offer. They even shipped me off to the States to participate in one of your sniper schools. I don’t know why they did it all, since our identities will never be leaked to the public, but that’s what the Pope wanted, and that’s what he got.
“When the GS9 agents came to my home and offered me the opportunity, I leapt at it. Like I told you, it was the first chance I had to get away from my life. I’m so sorry. I was forced to secrecy, but considering where we are, I felt the need to come clean. Everything else we’ve talked about is completely true. My father, hunting, Oxford, the Olympics, my fiancé. Everything.”
Her speech left me with little else to do except stare at the ceiling, unsure how to respond. How could I trust her now when she had been so blatantly lying to me for so long? She was a stranger now, someone who’d broke the bonds of brotherhood and was someone I couldn’t trust or rely on. I rolled onto my side and faced away from her.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked. “I forgive you? You didn’t do anything wrong? How can I do that? Any reason I may have had to trust you is gone.”
It’s been my experience with women that they generally do things in unexpected and unpredictable ways. Many a time in a conversation, a woman will do something crazy. One comment will lead to reaction A, while a seemingly identical comment will result in reaction B, and at the end of the talk a completely different comment ends up eliciting reaction A again. It was completely insane and was pretty much the main reason I’d given up trying to understand women long ago. It was why, with my back turned away from Helena, that I was completely unprepared for her unwarranted attack.
The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) Page 21