The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (19 page)

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Well,” Vincent answered, “these Romans speak so
fast, it’s hard to keep up, but I think he said he wants our
weapons.”

“What do you think?”

“We could take them out before they had any idea
what was happening, but if what you said is true, these men may
play integral roles in the future. We can’t just kill them.”

“I’m glad someone was paying attention.”

“Hey, I heard you,” Santino said. “I just think
you’re nuts.”

“In any case,” Vincent said, ignoring him. “I say
diplomacy is our priority. Everyone, put your rifles on safe, and
unload your mags, and don’t forget the chambered round. We don’t
need these guys accidentally shooting each other.”

We all complied, securing our ammo, before laying
our rifles on the stone road. The Romans gave our rifles a curious
look, as well as each other, before gathering them up. One man
picked up Helena’s curiously designed P90, trying to figure out if
it was actually a weapon or a piece of art. Knowing they had no
idea what exactly our weapons looked like, or did, we kept our side
arms at the ready.

I noticed the man I had seen creeping in the sphere
out of the corner of my eye. He seemed completely out of place. I
couldn’t help but wonder what role he was playing here, and whether
he could help us. The way his eyes panned over us suggested he was
more interested than anything. They continuously focused on small
details concerning our clothing and gear. Even when his attention
focused on Helena, he only examined her gear and weapons, as well
as her bandaged wound, and moved on.

That, in of itself, was impressive.

The Roman Praetorians, satisfied that we had
relinquished our weapons, or at least anything we could hit them
with, formed into a square around us, and started moving. I glanced
at my watch, my compass indicating we were heading northeast.

“What do you think they’re going to do with us?”
Helena asked.

“Well, hopefully, they don’t crucify us,” I replied,
only half joking. “Romans made the process famous after all.”

“That’s a wonderful image. Thanks.”

“Anything I can do to help.”

“But seriously. What are we going to do here? If
everything that’s happened in the past twenty minutes aren’t
actually a dream, and we can’t risk changing the future by actually
doing anything here, how are we supposed to find our way home?
We’re going to have to interact with something if we’re going to
figure this out.”

“That’s a good point, but again,” I said with a
shake of my head, “I don’t know. Honestly, I think I would like it
here, but we can’t stay. The longer we do, the bigger the chance we
screw something up.

“Don’t you think meeting the emperor of Rome might
change something?”

“What do you know about Caligula, anyway?”

“All Europeans aren’t history scholars, you know,”
she said indignantly. “All I know is that he was crazy.”

“I guess that’s more or less true, but he wasn’t
always crazy. In fact, when he was young, he was a very inspired
and hopeful young man. His uncle and foster father, Tiberius,
emperor at the time, would bring him along on campaign when he was
barely a teenager. He spent much of his youth learning the ways of
war first hand. In fact, the legionaries loved him so much, they
called him “little boots,” which is where his nickname, Caligula,
comes from. The Roman word
caligae
, which means shoes, or
sandals, or boots, or whatever.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, that’s the thing with history. Since so much
has been lost, we’re not exactly sure. Little information
contemporaneous with his life exists, except for a few historians,
most of whom wrote after his death. Suetonius, for example, wrote
extensively on the Caesars from Julius to Domitian. However, as a
source of historical fact, he’s not so helpful. He’s great at
describing the drama and debaucheries of the crass imperial
families, but I can’t remember a single date offered in his
writings. It reads more like gossip. A soap opera. He’s not
considered a very reliable source, but he’s still one of the main
providers of information we have on the time period. People like
Claudius wrote extensively on many subjects, including his family
tree, but unfortunately, none of his work survived. Suetonius
quotes it at least once, but has the nerve to describe it as
tasteless. Claudius is Caligula’s uncle and the next emperor, by
the way. I’d actually love to meet him.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, but what about
Caligula?”

“Well, when Tiberius died, Rome was very excited.
Tiberius went down in the history books as a rather mundane ruler,
but in reality, he was a very successful military commander, and
while his time as emperor was uneventful, Rome hardly suffered from
it. So when Caligula took the reins, big changes were expected. All
for the better.”

“Any reason why it’s taking you so long to get to
the point?”

“I’m just trying to provide context,” I sighed.
“Yeesh. It’s always the pretty ones. Anyway, Tiberius introduced
Caligula to more than just warfare during his formative years. On
his island retreat of Capri, Tiberius immersed Caligula in
debaucheries that made the ones in Rome seem like tea parties. Ever
see the movie
Caligula
?”

“No,” she answered.

I grimaced. “Probably for the best. It’s one of
those movies you have to see to believe, and while probably more
farfetched than reality actually was, it definitely portrayed
Tiberius as the sick bastard he, again, very probably was, and
Caligula was raised around all this sex and degeneration and
violence. Many historians credit this upbringing as the cause of
his eventual insanity, but it wasn’t until he became very sick that
his mind was finally warped. Supposedly, he started doing things
like appointing his horse consul, Rome’s highest elected position,
and started an incestuous affair with his sisters. All three of
them. Historians are conflicted on the matter, though. They’re
conflicted on everything.

“One of the earliest writings about Caligula claims
he went insane as a direct result of his illness. There are many
others, though, that feel too much emphasis is put on the illness,
and shouldn’t be taken seriously. Either way, he rose pretty high
on people’s shit list, including his own Praetorians. It wasn’t
long before they assassinated him, and proclaimed Claudius emperor.
The way things were going, it was definitely for the best. Claudius
did a good job, and despite the hiccup with Nero, Rome prospered
for quite a while before beginning its inevitable decline.”

“So…” she said, her voice dripping with
impatience.

“So…” I mimicked, her impatience beginning to
irritate me, “that’s about the gist of it. If we got here too late,
chances are we’re fucked. Better expect to suffer a painful,
painful death in some gruesome, grotesque manner. Hey, I once
learned about a Roman execution method where they would have you
stand on a platform above a ramp with a revolving buzz saw running
down the center. Then, they would slice your Achilles tendons,
causing you to fall off the platform because, you know... pushing
would be too nice. Then, you’d fall from the platform down onto the
ramp and slowly slide your way into the saw, slicing you in half.
Right down the middle. There. Happy?”

Her stare was blank and I wondered if she was
thinking about the execution method I’d just detailed or whether or
not I really was crazy, like Santino suggested.

“So were you some kind of high school history
teacher before joining the military?

I smiled, forgetting my tirade. “No, but I did go to
college, and had to major in something. Double majored in history
and classical studies. Mom was proud. I always figured I’d spend my
life as a history teacher, not in the military. Hopefully, meet a
nice, saucy Spanish teacher and settle down.”

“You really are a strange man, Jacob.”

“Hey. A guy can dream, right?”

She rolled her eyes.

“I was even working on my Masters when I was forced
into the Navy,” I provided proudly, “and hoping for a PhD one
day.”

“Why would you need a PhD to teach children?”

“Why not?” I asked with a look that suggested her
question should have had an obvious answer.

She ignored the sarcasm, but I saw she had a small
smile on her face. “So, why were you forced into the Navy
then?”

“For a girl who couldn’t take a little history
lesson a few minutes ago, you sure do ask a lot of question, but
again, sorry, let’s leave that story for another time.”

That was another annoying story, and I wasn’t about
to let it ruin the fantastic dream I must be having right now. Here
I was, strolling through Rome with a beautiful woman on my arm,
taking in the sights like a couple on vacation. It was something
I’d always wanted to do, but never actually had the luxury to
do.

I must be dreaming.

Granted, the woman was half unconscious, came close
to losing a leg, we were under armed guard, and while we may be in
Rome, we were somehow in a time when gladiator tournaments were
still popular…

Even so, I couldn’t help but admire the view.

The landscape was almost completely unrecognizable
from the city I had just driven through. St. Peter’s Basilica was
gone, and many of the ancient ruins were either in perfect
condition or not even built yet. Most of Rome’s landscape was due
for a series of major renovations in the coming years, and most of
what I was seeing would be gone in two thousand years anyway.

Nero would build his magnificent golden palace,
along with a pool the size of a football field just a ways down the
road to my right. It wouldn’t last long though, as Vespasian would
later build the Flavian Amphitheatre, better known as the
Colosseum, on that spot. Later, Trajan would move half of a
mountain to build his own forum, just because he needed more
room.

But none of that was here at this point, and I found
myself saddened we weren’t transported to a time when Rome’s more
lasting structures existed. Sure that sounded superficial, but all
the fun times of social and civil wars occurred well before we got
here and the wonderful building projects were probably out of my
life span, even if I had to stay here. I even missed Augustus, my
favorite emperor, probably one of the top five most influential
figures in all of western civilization. At least as far as I was
concerned.

Oh, well. Looks like we’re about to meet another
influential figure in history. I just hope we were sent back early
enough. After all, he was only emperor a few months before he got
sick.

***

Twenty minutes, a few drunken witnesses, and a
number of reproachful charlatans later, we made our way to the
Curia
, Rome’s senate chamber. As we passed through the Forum
Romanum, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. I was walking
through Rome’s political epicenter. The place where most of its
major decisions were made. A thousand years of governance and
policy were debated right here. Everything so was saturated in
history, I felt drenched just thinking about it, and not just in my
pants. Every debate settled by the men of this city affected the
world in ways few truly appreciated. Without these walls and the
men who filled them, my world would have been far different.

I saw the
Curia
, an unremarkable building,
with its plain, brick façade, as well as the
Rostra
, on the
other side of the forum. There was the source of it all.

“Take a look over there,” I told Helena, nodding off
to our right. “That’s the
Rostra
, a speaker’s platform. Back
during the Second Triumvirate, one of the greatest writers and
orators of all time, Cicero, had spread some rather nasty
propaganda about Marc Antony. It had something to do with how
Antony should have been killed along with Julius Caesar on the Ides
of March or something like that. Anyway, Antony, being the spoiled
little shit that he was, had him killed, and had his head and hands
cut off. He then had them placed on those poles to further insult
him as if killing the most learned man of his time wasn’t enough.
Those poles are actually called
rostra
, by the way, the
Roman word for a ship’s prow, which is where the title for the
platform came from.”

“Always the history lesson with you.”

“There’s just so much of it here. I’m overwhelmed.
How can you be so disinterested?”

“I’m not ‘disinterested.’ I’m just a bit queasy and
I could really use some sleep.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, perk up. A few more months with me
and you’ll be an expert in no time.”

“Fantastic.”

“Heads up, people,” Vincent announced. “Looks like
we’ve arrived.”

Making our way to the building, the enormous outer
wall blocking the moonlight, we were ordered to stop by one of our
guards. He, along with three others, made their way inside, while
the rest of us were directed towards a few stone benches just
outside the
Curia
.

Dragging Helena all this way was tough work. I had
been ready to pass out the moment we entered the
Forum
, and
by the time we made it to the benches, Helena was practically
moving under her own power, receiving little help from me. I heard
her moan in pain when she took a particularly heavy step on her
bandaged leg, but we managed to make it to the bench before either
one of us collapsed completely.

I swung her onto the bench, and sat beside her,
resting my head on her shoulder. “Next time. You’re carrying
me.”

She pushed my head away. “Yeah right,
Lieutenant.”

Santino plopped down next to me on the ground, while
Bordeaux and Wang sat next to him. Vincent took up station by the
entrance, waiting to go inside. Bordeaux and Santino stretched out
to lie on their backs, probably just as exhausted as I was, while
Wang had his head between his knees, still unsettled by the loss of
his long time commander. Helena was leaning against a pillar, and
seemed out cold. Rejuvenated by my few seconds of respite and with
no one to talk to, I rose to my feet and joined Vincent with the
remaining guards.