To Crown a Caesar (The Praetorian Series: Book II) (47 page)

A simple wooden door, the gate was
our first indicator that this camp was only temporary, meant for campaign use only.  Its defensive stakes, ditch, palisade, and rampart were there, but it wouldn’t hold off an invasion like some of the other forts I’d been in before, but this particular one was built just like all the rest, and that meant a straight jaunt through the middle of the camp, right for the
praetorium
.

As we passed through the threshold, Helena and I
were greeted by unfamiliar looks from unfamiliar legionnaires.  I’d expected expressions of awe, curiosity and, in Helena’s case, lust, but none of the legionnaires displayed such emotions.  We were instead met by looks of anger and hatred.  Many of these men probably recognized us from the thousands of “Wanted” posters displayed throughout the empire, or were perhaps wondering why these people who’d come from the city they had just been besieging, were suddenly and nonchalantly strolling through their camp.

Helena shared a worried look with me,
and she tucked in close.  She gripped her P90 and brought it close to her chest, while I shouldered
Penelope
as well.  While we were mostly sure Vespasian didn’t want us dead, if we were going to die, it was going to be guns blazing and together.

But as we quickly approached the center of the camp, fewer and fewer looks
came our way.  Within minutes, we found ourselves at the entrance of the
praetorium
, and both Gaius and Marcus walked inside while we waited.  A few minutes later, important looking military and administrative figures offered us dirty looks as they were hastily escorted from the tent by Marcus while Gaius remained inside.

“You can go inside, now,” Marcus
informed us once they were gone.

I nodded and took a step forward, but
he rested a hand against my chest and stopped me.

“You
r weapons, Hunter,” he said.

I held his gaze for a few seconds, but he didn’t flinch.  After another second, I nodded and unclipped my rifle from
its 3-point sling draped across my shoulder.  I handed it to him, while Helena did the same.  I tried to step forward again, but Marcus halted me just as he had before.

“All of them
,” he said, with a flick of his eyes towards my pistol.

I took a deep breath
and retrieved my Sig, slapping it roughly into his waiting hand.  “You sure he’s not going to kill us?”

“Hunter, if he wanted you dead, you
already would be.”

“T
hanks for that,” I grumbled as Helena bravely pulled me behind her into the tent.

The interior of the command tent was just like all the other ones I’d seen.  Relatively small, about the size of half a tennis court, and spartanly furnished.  A chest, cabinet, desk, bed, and a few extra chairs were the room
’s only furnishings, but there were a few oddities.  A five foot tall broadsword was prominently displayed on a rack, its dark metal contrasting harshly against the white crispness of the tent’s canvas walls, as did a set of double bladed battle axes that hung crisscrossing one another.  I wagered they were mementos from the only inhabitant’s previous two campaigns in Britain and Gaul.

As for the i
nhabitant, I was taken aback by his presence; by his looks, his countenance and years of anticipation.  Just under six feet tall, he had dark, almost black hair, a broad nose that completely suited his face and severe eyes that didn’t seem capable of missing a thing.  He was built like a wrestler, a popular sport these days, even if it was nothing like modern day Greco-Roman wrestling, which was also, in fact, neither Greek nor Roman.  He also had an interesting scar on his right cheek, not like Santino’s, but a simple line from his temple to chin.

I thought back to all the busts and sculptures
of the man I’d seen during my college years.  None of those facsimiles resembled this man at all, even one in particular that I normally associated with the man; a representation of him struck maybe twenty five years from now.  Even so, there was something fundamentally familiar about him.

Vespasian.

Finally.

But most surprising was that he also seemed
happy, even jovial.  He rose to his feet and moved towards us, reaching out with his arm, which I gripped just before the elbow.

“Greetings!”  He hailed in an impressively deep voice.  “You must be Jacob Hunter.  I have heard much about you.”

I smiled and tried not to look intimidated by this confusing man. 

“All good things I hope,” I said awkwardly.

“Perhaps,” he said, still smiling, before turning to Helena.  “And this must be the lovely Helena… van Strauss?  Am I saying that correctly?”

Helena smiled as well, even more embarrassed than I was.  “Yes, yes you are.”

“Wonderful,” he boomed.  “It is an honor to meet you as well.  The tales of your beauty precede you greatly.  Tell me.  Is it true you can turn men to stone on a whim?”

She looked at me, completely flushed.

“Well,” she said like a love sick teenager, hooking a thumb in my direction, “maybe only this one.”

He belted
out a rich laugh.  “I have heard you two are together.  Congratulations!  Your marriage must be happy and bountiful.”

“It’s not like that…” we both started, before cutting ourselves off
.  I stood as confused as I was embarrassed.  This man was nothing like I imagined he would be.  He didn’t seem like most people, let alone like most Romans.

“Bah!  If two people can fall in love and still fight wars with each other and not against one another,
then you have something truly special indeed.”

An interesting platitude.  I hoped he was right.

“Now,” he said, his joyful attitude draining immediately, “we have much to discuss.  Please sit.”

“Such a charmer…” Helena
whispered in English as we moved to our seats.

“Don’t get any ideas
, honey,” I replied with a smirk.

As Helena and I maneuvered into our chairs, Vespasian took a seat behind his desk, fold
ing his hands in front of him.  He rested them on the desk while he waited for us to get comfortable.  He took a deep breath, and in an instant, the cheerful man who’d hit on Helena and shook my hand was gone, replaced by a very stern authority figure.  My spider-sense spiked and I knew something was wrong, something that told me our meeting wasn’t going to be all shits and giggles after all.

“So,” Vespasian began, making eye contact with Helena and I equally, “I have made a very good friend over these past few months.  I
must admit, I am almost embarrassed to say that before our campaign in Germany, I considered him little more than an arrogant ass, already past his prime.  However, as the fates would have it, he and I grew quite close as we worked together, and I found myself liking him as more than just a colleague.”

I gulped.  I had a feeling where this was going.

He continued.  “As we campaigned this past summer, he amused me with many stories, the particularly interesting ones revolving around events that occurred four years ago.  The stories themselves weren’t of particular surprise, as I had heard them many times amongst camp gossip and with my legates over dinner.”  His eyes drilled through mine as I tried to maintain my composure.  He didn’t seem convinced that I had any idea what he was talking about.  “Oh, you know the ones.  The stories about Caligula and a group of people from… well… that part isn’t always so clear.  However, what made this man’s rendition of these tales all the more interesting was that he seemed to know more than most.  Do you know who I am speaking of?”

I cleared my throat
and fidgeted in my chair.  Helena didn’t seem particularly comfortable either.  The tone in the room had shifted completely.  How easy it had happened was unsettling.

“Galba?”  I answered.

“Galba, indeed,” he said with a slow nod of his head.  “You should know that when he first told me these stories, I did not believe him.  How could I?  Claudius a traitor?  An orb of magical powers?  Time traveling soldiers from an era of flying machines that can reach Luna and weapons that can destroy entire cities?  Ridiculous!  Yet…”  He paused, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, his chin held up by his hands.  “…here you are.  Tell me; is it true your weapons can kill from miles away?”

I deferred to Helena
.

She shrugged, smiling
meekly.  “Yes, but it isn’t easy.”

“It.  Is
n’t.  Easy,” Vespasian responded, with a slow shake of his head as he straightened his posture.  “A very interesting response.  Humble, yet most would say it was impossible.”

“Galba’s t
old you more, hasn’t he?”  I asked.

“Oh y
es… far more.”

“D
id he speak of Agrippina?”

“Ah, the lovely Agrippina,
” he said, rolling his head as he spoke, “yes, well, we shall get to her soon enough.  But first, I have a question for you.  As I said, Galba has informed me of where you come from.  I understand how you came to be here, at least, as far as anyone could honestly understand it, and wish to sympathize with you.  However, your arrival is an accident, and if I truly understand everything, possibly a detrimental one.  Now, choose your words very carefully, for your response is most important…”

Before asking, he leaned back in his chair and held the back of his head with his hands.  I wasn’t sure if the posture was meant to throw us off, intimidate us or give us false hope.  Considering the ambiguity the man had displayed thus far, I couldn’t even begin to guess.  Even so, he stared me dead in the eyes, shifting his attention to Helena,
and back to me.

“
This is my home.  Rome,” he said.  “Flawed as it is, it’s one I care very deeply for.  So I must know, what gives you the
right
to interfere with it as you have for the past five years?”

His question was steady, but strain was obviously evident.  He didn’t sound angry, but there was
sternness in the question. I felt Helena’s hand reach out and grip my own, giving it a tender squeeze.  Vespasian noticed but didn’t comment.  I looked at her and she gave me a supportive smile.

This was it. 
The
question.  The one I had struggled with and attempted to justify since we’d arrived here.  I took a deep breath and tried to collect my thoughts before answering.

Vespasian waited patiently for almost two minutes.

“The right,” I started, glancing up from my thoughts.  “A very interesting concept, don’t you think?”  Vespasian didn’t respond, but I didn’t expect him to.  “Well, I’ve always thought so.  I mean, who really has the right to anything?  Has God,” I paused, “or gods, ever come down and personally proclaimed anything for anyone?  Maybe.  I’ve spent my entire life in the belief of a supreme being, and I still do, but when I think of what ‘rights’ he has given me, my conclusions always draw me to a single thing.”

“And what is that?”  Vespasian asked. 

I paused and looked at Helena.

“To life,” I said turning back to him.  “My government added extra little things like ‘liberty and the pursuit of happiness
,’ but those are social constructs, created in the hope that people would strive for more with those principals beneath them.  But life, well, there is no one out there who can deny me my right to live, and if they threaten it, I will defend it.  I have the responsibility for self-preservation and a responsibility to protect those I love.”

Helena squeezed my hand again.

“Our arrival here was, as you said, an accident, and yes, a potentially detrimental one.”  I took a deep breath.  “And it was my fault.  I have carried this blame on my shoulders for five years, and it gets heavier by the minute.  At times I feel like Hercules taking the world off of Atlas’ shoulders for a while the responsibility seems so great.  But because it was my fault, it is also my job to put things right.” I paused again, taking yet another breath.  “Our interference, as you put it, has possibly changed your history, and very possibly the lives of trillions, but, honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

Vespasian opened his mouth to speak, but I defiantly cut him off with an upraised hand.

“In fact, I only care about one thing, and that’s getting me, my friends, and the woman sitting next to me home.  They are all I care about.  But we have to fix what we’ve broken first.  Only we know what needs to be done, and only we have the means to accomplish it.”

My right hand started shaking in frustration
upon my knee as I spoke.  I looked down at it and clenched it into a fist to quell it, placing it in my lap before continuing.

“Where I come from, we have
a saying.  ‘If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it,’ but sir,” I said with half a chuckle, “we broke something.  Something that could have ramifications thousands of years from now.”  I paused, shaking my head at the floor before continuing.  “It’s something we… I… have to fix it, and that gives us… gives me… the right to do everything I need to do.  If I can’t do that we’re as good as dead anyway.  The only real question is whether you’ll help me or not.”