To Crown a Caesar (The Praetorian Series: Book II)

by Crichton, Edward

  I turned to look into her eyes, green as ever, and like always, appearing to look right through me. She was waiting for something, and I knew from her gaze that she could wait all day.

  I decided I wasn’t going to spend it in awkward silence.

  “So?” I started. “Anything on your mind?”

  She narrowed her eyes, directing a hint of anger at me. “And what could possibly make you think that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’re normally so talkative that it’s sometimes hard to know when you’re ignoring me.”

  “Very cute, professor.”

  I frowned. She may have meant her words to sound flippant or comical, but her tone didn’t deliver the sentiment. She shifted so that she lay on her back and stared at the bottom of the bed, her attention distant and directed away from me once again. A minute passed before she finally opened up.

  “You’re not the same man I fell in love with.”

  Well that was unexpected.

  “I’m not?”

  “No, you’re not,” she said, shifting only her head, her gaze once again making me more uncomfortable than most of what she said. “Most of the Jacob Hunter I fell in love with is still there – the one who is caring, strong, intelligent, and the man who I still love. But you’re also different now. It began a few months ago when you first outlined your plan to ‘fix the timeline’. Now you’re obsessed, indignant, and self-righteous.”

  “Self-righteous?” I blurted.

  Just then a voice crackled in my ear.

  “Uh, guys?” Santino’s voice transmitted again through my ear piece. “You’re on VOX.”

  I felt my face get warm. I must have accidentally left my radio set so that it transmitted everything I said, not just what was said when the “push to talk” button was held. I reached into my cargo pocket and switched the radio back to PTT mode.

  I clicked the transmitter. “3-3, this is 3-1, over,” I sent using our official call designations. While no one could pick up our com chatter here, old habits die hard.

  “3-1, 3-3, go ahead,” Santino replied automatically.

  “Go to ground, 3-3. Hold your position. 3-2 and I are hunkered down in camp for the duration of the day, howcopy?”

  “Solid copy,” he said before holding his tongue for a few seconds. “Come on, guys. I’m already bored out of my mind. You expect me to just lay out here and wai…”

  I switched off my radio, silencing him.

  “That wasn’t very nice,” Helena chided.

  “He’ll live. I’ll switch it back on in a few hours.” I paused while I checked the radio again before turning back to Helena. “So… ‘self-righteous’?”

  “Exactly. The problem is your idea that we’ve somehow broken something and that it’s our, and only our, responsibility to fix it. We have no idea how these so-called laws of time work. The future could be exactly as we left it, but that isn’t even the most important part.” She paused and took a deep breath, “The important part is that I don’t even know why you think this is so important because you won’t talk to me about it.”

  My brain immediately wanted to say one thing, but a distant voice in the back of my head made me stop. I turned inward and tried to find an honest answer for Helena. I knew she deserved the truth, but in this moment, I was finding it difficult to give her an answer. I couldn’t just tell her all my theories were based off of science fiction television and documentaries on the Science Channel. She wouldn’t accept that, and I suppose I didn’t either.

  What I did trust, however, was myself. I’ve always trusted the men I had under my command as a SEAL, but the only person I could ever absolutely rely on was me. Every single job throughout my life that had to be done, I did myself. Every one of those experiences helped build my confidence in my own instincts and abilities. It hadn’t been easy as a kid, as it rarely is, but over time and through the vagaries of life, I grew into a rock steady adult who trusted himself implicitly. Experience is the forbearer of all knowledge and I had been through a lot in my time, and everything within me had been telling me that something needs to be done.

  “I feel it in my gut, Helena,” I said wholeheartedly. “I really do. I know this is the right thing to do.”

  “In your gut?” Helena asked knowingly, her look suggesting she had known the answer all along.

  I eyed her suspiciously. “Yes. It’s never led me in the wrong direction before.”

  “Well, Jacob,” she said coyly, “I’ve always trusted your gut too. I always have but only because my own gut lets me. After everything Agrippina’s done to manipulate us, I promised myself years ago that I wasn’t going to blindly follow anyone ever again, that I’d never be that little girl again who had no choice in who she was going to marry.” She took a second before jabbing a finger against my chest, biting her lower lip as she did so. It hurt a little and I flinched away as she continued. “You’re just lucky that you’ve always been good at making decisions because I’ve never had any reason to doubt you before.”

  “Except now,” I said, understanding.

  She nodded. “I want to trust you, Jacob, like I always have, but I just can’t if you don’t trust me in return.”

  Just like last time, I opened my mouth to answer immediately, only to close it just as quickly. Seconds later, I figured out what she was trying to get at. In all the time I’d known her, she had always been the person I could rely on more than anyone, even myself, but all I’d done over the last few months was push her away and internalize everything without ever seeking her input. Bordeaux was right. Trust and communication were two sides of the same coin. From her perspective, I no longer trusted her because I no longer sought to confide in her.

  To her, it must have felt like a complete betrayal.

  I shut my eyes to shield myself from the intensity of her inspection.

  I’d spent the past five months diligently preparing for what we were about to do, but now I wanted nothing to do with it since all I’d seemed to accomplish was turn my closest friends against me.

  I opened my eyes and looked into Helena’s, noticing that she must have known I’d come to some sort of conclusion because her eyes seemed softer than I’d seen them in months.

  “Helena…” I started, almost unable to get the name out, “I’m sorry. You know how I can get sometimes, and I took it too far this time. I regret that more than you can know.”

  She waited a few seconds before nodding. “I accept your apology, Jacob, but you’re not getting out of this that easy. We’re not actually ‘talking’ right now. We’re simply discussing your inability to communicate. The only thing I want out of you right now is a truce. You stop pushing me away and I’ll stop ignoring you, and maybe you can finally convince me all this is worth it.”

  I haven’t underestimated Helena since the moment she nearly knocked me out upon our first meeting, and since the day we began our friendship, even before it blossomed into something more, I always knew just how formidable she really was. That impression had been hammered into my brain over so many years with a hammer worthy only of Thor, but I never realized it quite so much as I did right now.

  “Agreed,” I answered finally. “Consider a cease fire in affect.”

  “Not yet,” she said, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “I need something from you first. Consider it a gesture of good faith.”

  When I saw the smile on her face my heart dropped. “What?”

  “How old are you?”

  I turned away from her as quickly as could. “No.”

  She punched me in the back, yet another of her endless beatings that actually hurt. “Honestly, Jacob, you are ridiculous. We’ve known each other for years and I still only think you’re in your early thirties, but I don’t actually know. You won’t even tell me what month you were born in. You’re acting just like Santino.”

  “I don’t like birthdays,” I said truthfully. There were too many sad memories associated with them.

  “Just tell me th
e day. I don’t even need to know the year.” When I didn’t say anything, she continued insistently. “Now!”

  I rolled back over and sighed. “Fine. It’s the day Augustus died, and yes, I’m in my thirties,” I said grudgingly, even though I was only thirty two. Although, technically, there was a chance I was still only thirty one, since we left the future in July and arrived in Rome in September, bypassing my birthday month of August completely. I honestly didn’t know. “If you can figure out the date, you’ll know.”

  “August nineteenth,” she responded almost immediately.

  My eyes narrowed. “How did you know?”

  She smiled. “You really don’t think I pay attention to your lectures, do you? You’re a surprisingly good teacher. Besides, you always seem in a bad mood that day, and yes, you’re that bad it’s memorable.”

  I chuckled. “I guess you aren’t so bad after all. At least you’re learning.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” she said. “We still have a lot to talk about.”

  While her eyes told me there was still more healing that needed to be done before she went back to truly trusting me again, she offered me a small smile before turning her head to look at the bed again.

  “Go to sleep, Jacob,” she whispered.

  I watched her pull Galba’s linen sheet to her chin, but before she fell sleep, as I was sure she would do in seconds, she spared one last glance at me. It was a neutral glance, but the gesture alone made me feel a whole lot better. I edged just a bit closer to my companion and fell asleep in minutes.

  ***

  I woke up eight hours later rested, attentive and happy, even with the legions outside constantly reminding me of their presence. Pulling away from Helena as gently as I could, momentarily forgetting it normally took a thunderstorm to wake her up, I moved to the edge of the bed and stretched my arms and my legs. Satisfied I’d worked out any grogginess I might have felt, I reached into my cargo pocket and pulled out my radio. Turning it on, I pressed the PTT button twice in quick succession, and waited for Santino’s reply.

  I started to worry when his return clicks didn’t immediately come but after a noticeable three second delay, he responded in kind. I chuckled. Even though he had only communicated by the click of static, I could still sense his frustration. I placed the radio back in my pocket and pulled out my MRE.

  Reading the label, I was relieved to discover that it wasn’t one of the dreaded meat patty variants. Perhaps we were finally rid of the vile creations.

  With a small sigh, I opened the package that contained two entrees, an appetizer, a dessert, coffee powder, and juice mixtures. I reached in to pull out an entrée but hesitated just before extracting it.

  Each and every time I opened one of the ready to eat meals, I was reminded of the fact that we were quickly running through the last of them. Every time we ate one, we lost just that much more of our old home, and ever after all the time I’d spent here, I was still home sick. I missed my sister immensely, my SEALS and friends as well, but most especially, I missed my TV. Helena thought I was addicted to it, and while she was probably right, I suspected she was just afraid I’d be a lazy boyfriend if we ever got home.

  There wasn’t much sense thinking about it. With each passing year, the idea of going home became harder and harder to believe anyway.

  I opened one of the cracker packages and applied some jalapeño cheese spread. Taking a bite, I nodded pleasantly. For some reason, MREs had a stigma for tasting horrible, like tissue paper or something. I couldn’t disagree more, suspecting such complainers actually ended up eating the tissue paper itself.

  As careful as I was, I noticed Helena shift in her sleep beside me. Always a light sleeper, I could recall many occasions when I had been unable to fall asleep during heavy thunderstorms, our thin tents offering little protection from the bright flashes and loud thunder claps brought on by the storms, while Helena dozed peacefully throughout, never once waking.

  She rolled over and looked up at me, her hands beneath her head.

  “Morning,” I said happily.

  Her expression was groggy, but at least she didn’t seem angry. “Shouldn’t it be late afternoon by now?”

  I looked at my watch. “Oh, right.”

  She gave me a small smile.

  “Hungry?” I asked, holding out the cracker. She took a bite and her eyes opened wide, her palate never meant for spicy foods. She reached for the CamelBak and swallowed some water, which I knew would only make it worse. Finally, she snatched a cracker without any cheese and started munching, the redness in her face slowly residing.

  I looked at her knowingly, offering a weak shrug. “Sorry?”

  She returned my look with the same anger her eyes normally exuded, but I knew it wasn’t real. At least I hoped it wasn’t.

  “It’s too bad I fell in love with you and not Santino,” she said.

  I placed a hand against my chest. “Ouch. That one really hurt.”

  “Sure it did,” she said, peeking into the MRE bag. “What else do you have to eat in there?”

  I looked into the bag that held the individual servings of food. “Rice pilaf and turkey with gravy. Great.”

  “Ever wonder who comes up with these combinations?”

  “No,” I said, “and frankly I don’t want to. Those sadistic bastards at the MRE packaging plant once loaded an entire crate of the stuff with nothing but cream cheese in each meal. I was eating cream cheese for two weeks. Two weeks!” I repeated angrily. “Cream cheese!”

  “Obviously they’re all insane sadists.”

  At least our conversation was back near our normal banter level.

  “You have no idea,” I said, tearing open the rice pilaf package and handing it to her.

  I tore open the turkey and gravy and started digging in. Helena and I traded packages after a few scoops from each, and I used the MRE’s small container of Tabasco sauce to spice up the rice, finished off the rest of our crackers, and split the black and white cookie desert with her. Never liking chocolate much, I gave her that end, and I ate the vanilla side. Even without warming it through, the meal had tasted good and had been substantial.

  We policed our mess and got comfortable again. I looked up at the bottom of Galba’s bed and picked at some splintered wood with a finger, hoping we were in fact doing the right thing. Helena had a point about one thing. No matter how I justified it, we were in fact messing with people’s lives every time we took a breath in this world, and the only responsible thing to do would be to just flee into the shadows and never interfere with society again.

  But that felt like giving up, and even if we stayed away from every human being for the rest of our lives, it still wouldn’t matter. Even if we buried our heads in the sand like an ostrich, we were still interfering with the lives around us. Even that deer Santino shot the other day could alter the timeline. That deer could have been meant for a starving family two months from now, but since it won’t be there for the family to hunt and feed off of, the children in that family may die of starvation. Those kids could be the ancestors of Charlemagne, Joan of Arc, Louis XIV, Jacque Cousteau, Celine Deon, even Bordeaux, or any other countless soul who could possibly draw their ancestry back to the area around the Rhine River.

  I tried to keep track of all the people we’d helped over the years, and the number sat at eighty five men, women and children. Each was a life we interfered with, but that number didn’t include the few hundred we’d killed while helping them, not to mention the thousands upon thousands of men had who died on the battlefield outside of Rome four years ago, which included Claudius, and later Caligula, whose deaths alone could be more than enough to alter the future. After all we’d done, there was no telling what 2021 looked like anymore.

  Maybe I’m not being fair to the rest of the world, but I think it’s hard to argue that the decisions made by the various civilizations to call Europe home weren’t amongst the world’s most influential. Sure, Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan s
till needed to embark on their rampage through the area, and I’m sure nothing we do here will stop that from happening, but even with their intervention and… seeding, the emigrating hordes of barbarians weren’t the only people to call this area home. What if through the results of our actions here we somehow produce a stronger, more enduring Rome, one that could hold off the invading hordes of Huns, Mongols, Goths and the rest of them?

  The possibilities were mind boggling.

  As for places like China and Japan, they didn’t really catch up to the rest of the world until the likes of Marco Polo and his successors got involved a thousand years from now. Eastern civilizations may be older, and at one point or another more advanced, but where the western world progressed over the millennia, the east hit a plateau.

  Even Islam’s day might be over. I knew Augustus had sent a Legion to Yemen to conquer the area for their stash of incense and precious stones. He’d been hurting for cash after establishing his unilateral dominance over Roman politics and needed whatever resources he could find. The expedition had failed thanks to traitorous guides and a deadly Arabian summer, but now that someone like Agrippina was running the show, they might try again. Who knows? The prophet Mohamed may accidentally trip on a rock after receiving his visions from God because a Roman siege engine, hundreds of years earlier, knocked a stone onto his path where there originally hadn’t been one.

  Then again, maybe nothing quite so revolutionary will happen by 2021 and the only discernible difference would be that Betamax players will put VHS tapes out of the market in the 1990s.

  Stranger things have happened

  And probably will.

  “What are you thinking about?” Helena asked from beside me, closer than we’d slept last night, but still not in my arms. The distance seemed like miles. “You have that far off look on your face again.”

  I smiled. “Just thinking... like always.”

  “Obsessing.”

  I hesitated. “Yeah, I guess. I just can’t stop thinking about it, Helena. I simply can’t be responsible for something that could potentially end western civilization.”