The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (40 page)

Well, that was a nice thing to say. During our
months in the camp, I’d always gotten the feeling Galba never liked
us much.

“Unfortunately,” he finished, “their use in the
battle will be limited at best.”

Never mind.

“I’ve been going over their tactics and strategy
with Vincent and his lieutenant for months, and I see little use
for them. Their strengths rely in small unit skirmishes, stealth,
and ambush, not in a large scale battle between thousands of men.
However, that is not to say they won’t have an important place in
the upcoming battle.” He sighed. “Vincent has issued a concern over
the amount of ammunition they can carry to field, so they will be
used for another purpose.

“Instead,” Galba said, pointing at the walls of
Rome, “they will be used as our gateway to the city before any
fighting even begins. While the army is still a day’s march out,
Vincent and his men,” he paused, glancing at Helena who gave him a
cold look, “his people, will place their explosives along key
junctions around the walls.

“As we have all experienced this winter,” he
continued, a hint of anger and annoyance in his voice, “these
people are extremely efficient at reconnaissance, stealth,
infiltration, and…” he hesitated, trying to find the appropriate
wording, “… causing trouble, and should have no problem bringing
down the walls without ever having to enter the city.”

Standing before Galba, I forced myself to suppress a
smile.

During our winter vacation in the camp, we had spent
time playing the ancient equivalent of war games against the
legion. Galba would allow Vincent and the rest of us to leave camp
and spend time observing his defenses, before trying to capture a
flag placed on a tent pole of the
praetorium
. It was a basic
game of capture of the flag, something the Romans never played
during their training, but one most militaries of the 21st century
used regularly. The last time I checked, the score was 8-0 in favor
of the troops from the future.

To be fair, the Romans never stood much of a chance.
In one of our gear containers, we found a dozen air pistols and
rifles. Also provided were hundreds of tranquillizer darts filled
with a knockout agent capable of rendering a man unconscious for
hours. Combined with Santino, as well as his UAV, sneaking in and
getting out was as easy as boiling water.

The Romans were smart, and their defenses top notch,
but they were no match against a modern Special Forces unit. Most
incursions followed a simple step by step series of procedures.
Helena and I would crawl forward under cover of darkness until we
were within range of the air rifles, around fifty yards, and easily
take out the guards on the ramparts.

Even though I had no desire to compete with Helena
when it came to shooting, our war games inevitably proved who was
the better shot, and it most definitely wasn’t me. In my defense,
she had picked up her first high powered rifle when she was a kid,
whereas I had to wait until I joined the military. Even so, I held
my own, and I tried to not let those cocky smirks of hers bother
me, even though all I wanted to do was smack them right off her
face every time.

Once the guards on the rampart were down, the rest
of the squad would rush forward through the palisade and ditch, and
scale the walls. Helena and I participated in the actual
infiltration only once, so our AARs filled us in on how every other
mission played itself out the rest of the time.

Bordeaux and Wang would stay stationed on the
rampart, ready to provide cover fire, while Vincent and Santino
would descend into the camp. Once on the ground, Vincent would hang
back by the rope, while Santino would sneak through the camp and
capture the flag, undetected each time, except for on one
occasion.

For the most part, Galba arranged his defenses as
strong as they would be on any regular night, not adding sentries
or guards just because he knew we were coming. We wanted these
games to accurately reflect the combat effectiveness each side
could muster. Something we’d never actually determined of ourselves
since we became a team.

It came as a surprise one day when we realized that
we’d only been a team for a few months, and that we never actually
had a chance to perform any team training together. At first we
were worried the professional Romans would actually beat us, but as
it turned out, we had little to worry about. We performed
fantastically, meshing together like a unit that had seen combat
for years.

So, on the one occasion that Santino
was
detected, it wasn’t because someone fouled up, but because Galba
had stacked the deck that night. I suspected it was probably
because he was a sore loser, but Santino didn’t seem to mind. It
only made him change his style.

Galba had left the rampart security the way it
always was, his first mistake, but had added two dozen guards
outside his tent. He tried to rationalize these guards by saying
there were always roaming legionnaires in the camp, and these had
simply decided to station themselves outside the
praetorium
that night. Galba would soon realize that we still had a few tricks
up our sleeves, and sheer manpower wasn’t going to get him a quick
victory.

Other than the tranq darts, which the Romans quickly
learned to hate, another weapon of the future we had plenty of were
flashbangs. Flashbangs were non-lethal grenades, meant to blind,
deafen, and disorient anyone who came into contact with them. Many
a morning at BUD/S, they were used as alarm clocks, the most
efficient ones I ever had. Santino had brought along two
nine-bangers with him, basically flashbangs that went off nine
times in quick succession, bouncing around with each bang, each
concussive blast overwhelming and disorienting those near them.

After sneaking to the edge of the
via
principalis
, tranqing one legionnaire along the way, he quickly
assessed the situation, determining he’d have to forfeit his
perfect score of remaining unseen. Over the radio he asked Helena
and Bordeaux to get ready, and once they announced they were, he
transmitted a double click.

Receiving his all clear, Helena launched a red
flare. The bright red flare lit up the night sky, slowly drifting
to the Earth on its small parachute, achieving its desired effect.
Every man in the camp looked up at the magical red light that had
spontaneously erupted in the darkness, giving Santino the
opportunity he needed to pull the pins on his nine bangers and toss
them gently into the group of waiting guards.

The following explosions were louder and brighter
than anything the Romans had ever experienced before, all eighteen
of them. To the unaware Roman, the nine bangers would seem like
lightning strikes and thunderclaps going off right at their feet,
only worse. Santino was prepared and insulated from the explosions,
and he bolted for the flag as soon as the first bang went off. It
all went perfectly until in his haste retreat, Santino managed to
pull down one of the tent poles with the flag, collapsing the
praetorium
. Not wasting any time, he made a beeline for the
porta praetoria, and didn’t look back.

Those inhabitants of the camp who had been sleeping,
weren’t any longer, but most were too afraid to leave their tent,
not understanding the noises they heard, the flashes they’d seen,
or the ominous red glare emanating through the thin linings of
their tents.

As Santino ran, Bordeaux detonated the C-4 charge he
had set against the porta
praetoria
, blowing the gate clean
off. Waiting for Santino at the gaping hole in the Roman’s wall,
Bordeaux, along with Vincent and Wang fired blindly down the road
toward the
praetorium
as fast as they could reload. When
Santino reached the wall, each of them fled the camp. Only a few
legionnaires tried to follow, but were quickly incapacitated by
Helena and me, patiently waiting as snipers were trained to do.
When the fugitives reached our position, Helena and I joined them
in flight, made our way to the trees, and laid low for a few
days.

We didn’t want to return immediately, for fear of
hurt feelings and angry legionnaires, so we spent the time
celebrating our victory. We enjoyed some wine Santino had managed
to pilfer during his short time in the camp and feasted on a deer
hunted by yours truly.

When we returned a few days later, waltzing
nonchalantly through the newly under construction
porta
praetoria
, we received a few glares and angry expressions, but
most were happy. Even those few we had actually shot were aware
that the training exercise had been productive. We returned the
flag to Galba, while Caligula stood next to him wearing an amused
grin on his face. Galba on the other hand was not happy. One of the
squad’s errant tranquilizer darts managed to find its way into his
thigh, and he had not awoken pleased.

In the end, every man in the camp, ourselves
included, gained important knowledge, training, and insight into
the ways of war. We had utilized our winter efficiently, and we all
felt that much more confident about the upcoming campaign because
of it.

Reminded of the night that five men and one woman
had successfully defeated over twelve thousand men, I couldn’t help
but smile, despite my attempts not to. Galba must have noticed,
because when I managed to snap myself from the day dream, I noticed
he was glaring at me.

I gulped and shifted on my feet, turning my
attention back to the maps sheepishly.

With a shake of his head, Galba continued. “Once
night has fallen on the following day, they will bring down the
walls and our army will rush through, hopefully catching the enemy
asleep and disoriented. The auxilia will attack the
Castra
Praetoria
directly, while the legion itself will head straight
for the
Forum Romanum
and the
Domus Augusti
, subduing
any opposition in their path and capturing the rebel leadership,
especially Claudius.”

Galba pointed to Vincent. “They will be our Trojan
Horse, our key to the city, and like the Trojans, we will hit the
enemy while they are at their most vulnerable. But,” he said
sternly, looking at each of us in turn, “once the walls come down,
and my men enter the city, you will stand down and take a defensive
stance only. Let us handle the suppression of the city. In fact,
I’d prefer if you stayed out of the way completely.”

Even after all this time, Galba still didn’t trust
us. Fight with us, use us, respect us, yes, but not rely on us.
Galba was a tough man to please, but I couldn’t fault him for how
he felt. It was hard to trust that which you couldn’t understand,
and from a Roman’s point of view, there was nothing that could
explain us.

Galba was about to continue when we heard a
commotion outside the tent. Caligula and Galba remained at the head
of the table, waiting for a report to be made to them. When the
tent opened, I expected to see one of the legion’s junior
centurions burst in with news. A woman entered instead, and every
head in the tent turned to look, jaws dropping all around.

The woman was strikingly beautiful, dare I say, just
as beautiful as Helena. Her slender neck connected to a face with
full lips, high cheekbones, and an olive tanned complexion. Blond
hair and royal blue eyes were an interesting contrast to her skin
tone, but an alluring one. She was also tall, only a little shorter
than Helena, and had a fullness to her slender frame that suggested
a recent pregnancy. Adding to her beauty was her clothing, cut in a
way which produced a slit along her left leg that ran nearly to her
waist. It wasn’t a style I’d seen amongst Rome’s town women, but it
definitely had an effect on all of us present, save probably
Helena. It was also cut in a low fashion along her chest, revealing
ample cleavage.

I thought I recognized her from somewhere, but I
couldn’t put my finger on where.

Santino rubbed his eyes, as though she was some
figment of his perverted imagination.

I wasn’t so easily fooled. There was something off
about her. Her beauty was so unlike Helena’s, which conveyed warmth
and tenderness. Instead, she seemed devious, insistent, and
cunning. Like so many bleach blonde, bimbo clones back in 2021,
this woman knew she was beautiful, and used it only to achieve her
own ambitions and goals.

The only man in the room not drawn to the woman’s
beauty was Caligula, who surprised us all by crying, “Sister
Agrippina!” and rushing to her side.

“Sister?” Santino repeated, giving me a look.

The realization hit me like a truck. “Oh, no…”

Vincent understood. “Agrippina…”

X

Agrippina

Rome, Italy

April, 38 A.D.

I knew all about this beautiful, young, vile
woman.

Agrippina, or Agrippina the Younger, as she is
better known to history, was the oldest of Caligula’s three
sisters. In my undergraduate thesis about the Julio-Claudian
family, I had spent ample time researching her in particular and,
if I had learned anything about her, it was that she was trouble.
If I remembered my dates correctly, she should be about twenty two,
a very mature looking twenty two, if I were to judge. Pliny the
Younger, a different Younger, recorded she had canine teeth, a sign
of good fortune amongst Romans, and that physical detail allowed me
to confirm this woman was indeed her.

Agrippina had been more than a mere seductress, but
a very ambitious woman as well. Perhaps one of the most ambitious
throughout Roman history. After Caligula had gone insane, rumors
started to circulate that an incestuous affair between him and all
his sisters was taking place. In 39 A.D. she was involved in a plot
to murder Caligula and replace him on the throne with someone she
could control. When it failed, she was exiled, only to be recalled
by her paternal uncle, Claudius, after he had become emperor.