“Wait,” Helena said, looking at Madrina. “You aren’t going home with them?”
Bordeaux and Madrina exchanged glances before the redheaded woman answered.
“They will be fine, but my place is with Jeanne.”
“We aren’t going anywhere safe,” Helena informed her.
Madrina looked up at Bordeaux, and wrapped her hands around his gigantic left arm.
“I know,” she said as Bordeaux leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
Bordeaux had a family now, yet he was still willing to risk his life to help us. But why? Duty? The idea that deep down if he turned his back on us, his absence may result in not only our failure, but possibly our deaths? Madrina, on the other hand, had no such sense. While she was his wife, she was also a mother. Did her willingness to aid her husband, possibly putting herself in harm’s way, make her a bad one?
I wasn’t sure I could answer any of those questions, particularly the last.
I wasn’t a mother.
What I did know was that they must have shared a truly intimate connection. Madrina wasn’t the first woman Bordeaux had shared such a bond with, but the first had been taken from him by hate filled men willing to sacrifice their own lives for seventy two imaginary virgins. Having to watch Helena almost die seemed trivial in comparison. She had survived, his first wife hadn’t. Madrina must have meant the world to him.
“Well this warms my cold, dark, dreary heart,” Santino quipped, “and I agree with Helena that it will be nice to have another girl around here to look at…” Helena opened her mouth, but Santino plowed on, “…but who’s the creepy kid in the corner glowering at us? I thought that was Jacob’s job.”
He finished his statement by hooking his thumb towards the young man who leaned nervously to the right of Gaius, and all eyes turned promptly. He was tall, by local standards, just shy of six feet, and had a mop of brown hair, not dissimilar to mine, only curlier. He had a thin nose and a well-defined jaw line and chin, and while his posture and body language revealed his tenseness, his deep blue eyes seemed sharp and discerning.
Noticing our attention on him, he shifted on his feet, but stayed silent. Vincent rose from his chair and moved to stand next to him, placing his non-amputated hand on his shoulder. His left arm had been lost just above the elbow during the Battle for Rome four years ago, and it was reassuring to see him so alive and active despite its loss. While the older man’s square jaw and hard eyes looked a few years older, his grizzled expression and well built, stocky build assured me he was still a man not worth messing with.
“This,” Vincent said, looking at the boy, “is Mark.”
“That’s it?” Santino asked. “Just Mark?”
Vincent smiled and I noticed more than just humor in his expression. Mark was one of the last names I ever expected to encounter during the days of ancient Rome. Unless, of course, this kid was actually…
I looked up at Vincent, hoping to God he didn’t do what I think he did.
“You didn’t,” I accused worriedly. “Did you?”
“What?” Vincent asked. “Interfere with one of the Gospel writers? Whisper a little information in his ear? Alter the course of Christianity as we know it?”
“You didn’t,” I repeated insistently.
He laughed to himself. “Hunter, you really are gullible. Of course I didn’t. Although, I have to admit, I’ve been waiting for years to use that one on you.”
“You’re worse than Helena,” I told him, receiving an elbow in the ribs for it.
“What about me?” Santino complained.
“No one is worse than you.”
“Damn right,” he said proudly.
“You didn’t actually find out anything about…” I began tentatively, “well… you know.”
“Would you really want to know if I did?” Vincent asked with a rise of his eyebrows.
I glanced at my feet. “No, not really actually.”
“Good,” Vincent said, his demeanor shifting towards serious again. “This young man’s name is actually Titus Marcellus Glabrio.” He paused and surveyed the room. “He is my son.”
Silence came over the room again before Santino, not missing a beat, said, “I must say, sir, I’m very impressed. At this rate, he’ll be bigger than Bordeaux by the time he’s five.”
I stuck my finger in his direction, ready to scold him myself this time, but Helena reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling it down to the table between us. She shushed me and shook her head.
I nodded. I guess everyone already knew Santino really couldn’t be that stupid.
Vincent gave him an exasperated look, but continued. “He is not my biological son, of course. He is my stepson. My biological son, however, just turned one.”
Helena beamed. “You found someone?”
“I did,” he said, smiling back. “My wife’s name is Culpurnia Glabrio. She is an attendant to the governor-general of Judea’s wife. Her late husband, Titus’ father, was in the legions and died over a decade ago.”
“I’m so happy for you, Vincent,” Helena said, unable to stop grinning. “You’ve waited for so long. It’s wonderful!” She looked over at Wang and Santino on the bed, her smile faltering momentarily before it recovered with a more mischievous look to it. “I guess that just leaves you two.”
Santino and Wang looked at her before turning towards each other. Their looks lingered before they turned back to Helena again, noticing for the first time how close in proximity they were to each other on the bed. In response, they hastily shifted apart, their cheeks blushing nicely. Neither man looked back at the other.
“Nice one, dear,” I said, wrapping my arm around Helena in a hug.
“Thanks, honey,” she replied, wrapping her own behind my back.
“Oi!” Wang said defensively, pointing a finger at her, “I had my hands full in Greece. I developed a dozen medications from sleeping pills to pain killers, using nothing but local resources and the primitive, backwater tools they had available.”
“Noted,” Bordeaux chimed in. “You’re excused.” He looked at Santino. “But what’s your excuse?”
Normally, Santino would just brush off any jeers at his manhood with a juvenile joke or childish comment, but despite his endless fornications with random women over the years, I knew he had a soft spot when it came to relationships. I almost expected him to make a crack about how the team was slowly turning into Praetorians: 90210, but I guess he just wanted to join the club these days.
He looked around the room, hoping for some support, but finding none, pointed his finger accusingly at Gaius and Marcus.
“What about those two?”
The two Romans exchanged glances.
“What about us?” Gaius asked. “We are both married.”
“To other people,” Marcus clarified.
Santino looked around the room again, hoping for someone to help him out, before tossing his hands in the air and leaning back on the bed. “I fucking hate you guys.”
“What’s your son’s name?” Helena asked Vincent as everyone had a good laugh at Santino’s expense.
The older man smiled. “Brian Wilson Glabrio.”
“Brain Wilson?” I questioned distractedly. “Not very Roman, and why does that name sound so familiar?”
“None of you know?” Vincent asked, looking around the room at vacant expressions all around. “I really must be that old. Brian Wilson was one of the founding members and lead vocalist for the Beach Boys.”
“You’ve got to be kidding?” Santino asked.
“I told you years ago that I loved them,” Vincent remarked.
“Yeah, but…” Along with Santino’s hatred for 80’s music came a misunderstanding for Classic Rock in general. He sighed, “…never mind.”
“It’s a good name, Vincent,” I said, reassuringly.
“Thank you, Hunter. I miss him already and worry for his safety constantly.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
> “Judea has become quite volatile over the past few years,” he answered, switching to English. “Many speak of open rebellion, but I doubt much will come from it. You know as well as I that it will still be many decades before that happens, but the environment is different now. Believe me when I say, it could happen within years.”
“Yeah…” I agreed, lost in thought. The Jewish uprising in the Middle East was still another thirty or so years away. Unless…
And then a light bulb went off in my head, but I set it aside.
“Don’t worry, Vincent,” I said, shifting my seat on the table. “I get the feeling you’ll probably be seeing him sooner than you think.”
“Yes… well,” he said, taking his hand off Titus’ shoulder, but not moving back to his chair, “I think it would do you well to explain what it is you’re planning first.”
“I will,” I said, pushing myself up off the table, “but before all that, Vincent, mind explaining why Titus is here exactly?”
“He’s…” Vincent paused, glancing at his amputated arm,” he’s my replacement.”
“What?” Santino, Helena and I asked in unison.
“Exactly as I said,” Vincent sighed. “I was old four years ago, and I’ve really started feeling it since.”
“Children have that affect,” Madrina offered from her chair beside Bordeaux.
“They do indeed,” Vincent replied, offering her a smile. “Besides that, I cannot use my rifle as efficiently as I once could. That is why I have been training Titus here for the past two years. I had no intention of doing so at first, but once he discovered my rifle and managed to use it without any guidance, he demanded I tell him everything. I’ve been training him ever since, and he has become quite the warrior.”
“You told him everything?” I asked in English.
“Not… everything,” Vincent answered tentatively. “There are still a few gaps in our story.”
“More riddles!” Gaius complained. “Will we ever know where you are from? Why is it that you still do not trust us?
“We do trust you, Gaius,” Helena said, always the mediator, “but it’s for your own safety. The less you know, the better.”
“It’s still my guess that they’re from the future,” Marcus told his friend, his arms crossed against his chest.
“Again with this “future” business,” Gaius exclaimed. “That is the worst idea I have heard yet. They are ancestors of the ancient Titans, rivals to the gods themselves!”
Helena and I exchanged knowing glances as they bickered for a few more minutes.
“For the moment, it’s not important,” I told them from the center of the circle. “What is important is that young Titus here understands exactly what he’s getting in to.” I turned to face the young man, his late teenage face showing no sign of fear or intimidation. “Well? Are you?”
Titus looked at Vincent, who nodded in support, before he looked me square in the eye. “I am prepared, Jacob Hunter.”
“Fine,” I said, but decided right then that no matter how things played out, one of the first things he needed to drop was the use of my first and last name. He’d better not keep that up. Agrippina was one thing, and Gaius and Marcus used to do it all the time as well, and it had gotten old long ago.
“Don’t worry, Hunter,” Vincent assured. “I’ll still be with you every step of the way, just in a diminished capacity.”
I nodded, turning to face Bordeaux and Wang. “What about you two? You haven’t been getting all lazy and paunchy on us while you’ve been gone?”
I looked at Bordeaux first. All he did was roll his giant shoulders and I had my answer.
“Never mind,” I said to him. “What about her?”
Bordeaux looked down at Madrina and smiled. “I haven’t bested her in a fight yet.”
“Sure you haven’t,” I snorted in amusement, turning to Wang. “And you?”
In response, he rolled up his sleeve and flexed his impressively ripped bicep, proving he was still in better shape than Bruce Lee ever was.
“Great,” I replied. “Except for Santino, who’s been packing on the pounds…”
“I have not!”
“… we’re ready to go. We still have ammo left, but not enough to last forever, some demo, and much, but not all of our equipment, is in working order, so I’d say we’re all set.”
“Finally!” Wang said. “The point.”
I looked at him. “Actually, I’m not quite there yet, and I’m hurt that our little reunion here has been too much of a drain on your time.”
Wang blushed again, and everyone chuckled. I chided myself for snapping at him. I’d meant my retort in jest, though it came off pretty harsh.
“Sorry, James. I’m just used to dealing with Santino all the time.”
He smiled. “Well that’s bloody understandable.”
“Good. Now, speaking of Santino,” I said, holding out my hand, “the bag please.”
He nodded and picked up the small local bag which held the orb and tossed it to me. I watched the unopened bag as it flew through the air, and familiar tingling feeling crept into the back of my mind. I was just about to reach out and snatch it when a blur to my right reached out and snagged it first. I looked to see Helena holding the bag, a know-it-all expression affixed firmly to her face.
“Yeah…” I said, the prickle fading. “On second thought, maybe you should go ahead and open it.”
She smiled and sat back down on the table, while I moved to stand near the door. Gently, she reached into the bag and extracted the most annoying creation to ever exist on this fair planet. It glowed a dim blue, perhaps sensing its proximity to me, but nothing swirled within, and it appeared solid. I eyed it suspiciously, as though it were a conscious being intent on doing me harm. I slide further away, putting just that much more distance between me and it.
Everyone not privy to what we’d been doing tonight looked astonished. Except for Madrina and Titus, who just looked confused.
“You found it!” Wang proclaimed excitedly. “Does that mean we can go home?”
“We could,” I replied, and everyone’s head shifted from the orb, to me, “but not yet. We’re not even sure how it works yet. The last time I used it, I saw the cavern we traveled to within the orb, but now, there’s nothing. That could mean a dozen different things, but we can’t just go about experimenting with it, hoping to make our way home. We could end up in Jurassic Period for all I know.
“What about the other one?” Vincent asked.
“That,” I said, “is the other reason we can’t go home yet. Agrippina has it, and while we’ve caused enough trouble on our own, there’s no telling what kind of damage she could do with it if she ever figured out how to operate it.”
Gaius, Marcus, Titus, and Madrina all looked confused, but the rest understood.
“So what are we to do with it?” Bordeaux asked.
“Well, big guy, today’s your lucky day,” I said as a confused look spread across his face, “because you get to blow something up.”
***
Unfortunately for Bordeaux, it took another few days before he could act on my promise to let him blow anything up. He’d already been out of his seat and rifling through his bag for explosives when an insistent knock had sounded from our door. It had been four in the morning, but despite tired and drooping eyelids all around, the entire room sprang into motion at the interruption.
Hands went to rifles or swords, chairs were abandoned and strategic positions were taken to best defend the room. I’d been the last to find cover, of course, so I had the unpleasant duty of answering the door, which I did very carefully, half expecting one of Agrippina’s ninjas to be standing there selling girl scout cookies or something.
It turned out to be no more than a few of the prostitutes infesting our building. They’d seen the constant flow of men into the room earlier, and had recruited a force of eight to try and infiltrate our lines and make some serious money. I tried not to look dir
ectly at them as they crowded around my door. Most were hideously ugly, and I could feel the venereal diseases trying to claw their way towards me from across the hall, and I just prayed they didn’t rush me.
I politely told them to get the hell away from us and slammed the door shut. That had been enough excitement for one night. We packed up the orb and turned in. Helena offered Bordeaux and Madrina our room. Even though it offered little in creature comfort, it was the only private space we had. Helena figured Madrina, at least, would appreciate the room while I only hoped the abnormally large couple fit on the bed.
The rest of us conked out in the main room. Santino took the bed, claiming it had been his all along so there was no need to give it up now. The rest of us laid ourselves out on the floor, using as many pillows and blankets as Wang and Santino could pilfer from neighboring rooms. Helena and I flipped our table on its side and pushed it parallel to the back wall, creating a basic barrier between us and everyone else. We didn’t plan on doing anything frisky, but the added shelter was nice. I’d had worse accommodations over the years, my mind wandering back to the few months I’d spent in Mexico agai, when my men and I would find our way to a random forward operating base and spend the night with one Army unit or another.
Not the most ideal of living conditions.
The rest of the guys spread out as best they could, but had about as much room as sardines in a can. Helena and I were comfortable, but with that many men in one room, the collective snoring kept me awake until sunrise. Helena had been out as soon as her head hit my chest, and had slept like a rock. Hours later, she didn’t so much as mumble in her sleep when I pushed her off me, frustrated I couldn’t join everyone else in sleep’s soothing embraces.
At least Helena didn’t snore, even though I always joked that she did.
So, when I noticed the first wisps of dawn peak in through the window, I decided then would be as good a time as any to adhere to my annual tradition of watching the sun rise. I hadn’t missed a year since I started doing it in high school, but something about this one seemed like it would be special.
To Crown a Caesar (The Praetorian Series: Book II) Page 25