The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I)

  ***

  If Helena had been right about one thing, it wasn’t that talking to Vincent would make me feel better, but that by talking to him I would at least find the truth. I wished I’d never even tried.

  A few mornings after we had talked, I went looking for Vincent. I found him eating breakfast with a number of centurions, talking and laughing with his fellow career military men. I loitered around the area while I waited for him to finish his breakfast, before approaching and asking politely if we could talk. He excused himself from his buddies, and took a walk around the camp with me.

  We spent the first two laps discussing camp gossip, which believe it or not, was extensive, the weeks itinerary, and the weather, everything but what I had intended to confront him with. He noticed I was keeping something back, and demanded I just come out with what was bothering me.

  So I did.

  “Sir. Prior to our arrival here in Rome, did you, or any of your superiors, the Pope included, have any preconceived notions or intelligence regarding the methods, means, or motives behind how we got here?” I’d practiced the line over and over in my head for months, but I’d never had the guts to ask. I wasn’t sure if I feared a reprimand or the truth more.

  Vincent continued walking around the camp, thinking deeply before answering my question. “Yes.”

  I snorted out a laugh. Of course they did. There were too many plot holes in this story for him not to have.

  “So, are you going to tell me, or am I going to end up with a horse’s head in my bedroll tomorrow morning?”

  “I’m not going to kill you, Jacob. You have a right to know.” He sighed, and I felt frustration flowing off of him. “It wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did. We had no idea things would turn out like this.”

  “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”

  He took a deep breath before continuing. “Years ago, papal historians were conducting routine research in the Vatican archives when they came across a document which spoke of a means to change the past. From what I was told, and from what I’ve learned here, I assume the document was the very same one you and Varus had discussed, or at least a copy. I assume so because the historians indicated it was written in a very old language, Etruscan, which proved nearly impossible to translate. However, it had numerous notes, scribblings and translation attempts scrawled all over it, as well as on attached notes. I assume the document you saw had no such writing?”

  “No, sir. It didn’t.”

  “You see? I’ve been learning from your little lectures. The notes must have been written sometime between now and when we found the sphere, as more and more people attempted to unlock its secrets, before it somehow wound up in our archives, lost and forgotten. Anyway, the few discernible facts historians pulled from the notes were about a blue sphere. At first, we thought nothing of it, until a news report surfaced in 2016 concerning the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities break-in. The one in Cairo.”

  “I remember reading about that,” I replied, vaguely recalling the morning I read about it on my news feed. “Apparently nothing of value was stolen, except for two items, neither related in any way to the other. They never released what those artifacts were.”

  “That’s probably because they thought their importance wasn’t significant. However, we quickly learned that one of those artifacts was actually our lost blue sphere.”

  “Really?” I asked. “The plot thickens.”

  Vincent ignored my sarcasm. “From the security footage we knew the robbery was committed by known terrorists. Most were unrecognizable nobodies, but there was one the CIA identified for us. Abdullah.”

  Now things were getting interesting.

  “So, let me get this straight,” I said, hoping I hadn’t missed anything. “Your researchers recovered evidence of an ancient time machine, which just happened to be residing, inconspicuously, in an Egyptian museum, only to have said museum broken into by Islamic extremists and the sphere stolen? Then, in your infinite wisdom, you sent out a team to recover the sphere, hoping to utilize its abilities for yourself, and somehow magically make the world a better place?”

  “You make it sound almost… wrong, but to answer your question, no, that was not actually the plan. Did you or Varus understand the part about how the sphere affects those who spend too much time around it?”

  I thought about it. “Actually… no, that didn’t come up.”

  Vincent huffed. “Well, our historians learned that there were some who, when in direct and constant contact with the sphere, developed interesting symptoms revolving around intense paranoia, Tourette Syndrome, dementia. These people were borderline insane, and prone to random acts of physical violence. Others who came into contact with it showed no affects at all. Sound familiar?”

  I didn’t flinch at his paternal tone. “No.”

  “I thought so. That information was in the notes. Now, think for a second. Intelligence agencies reported Abdullah as a rational man prior to the attack on the Vatican, a man low on their priority list because he was never pegged as one who would actually do anything crazy. But what does he do a year later after the museum robbery? He causes one of the most atrocious acts of terrorism the world has ever seen. And remember the condition we found him in? He was crazy. Listen to me, Jacob. If my theory is correct, the entire world war was orchestrated not by Abdullah, but by the orb.” Vincent sighed, the weight of his words astoundingly heavy, but then he looked up and flipped his hand at me nonchalantly. “By the way, I want to add something to your ever-expanding theory on time travel.”

  I nodded, feeling excited, rather than annoyed.

  “In our history, when nothing happened, you said the ball was packed up and lost to history, right?”

  “It’s a possibility, yes,” I answered.

  “A possibility?” He repeated with a smirk. “Well, here’s my theory: what if it sat on Caligula’s nightstand for months, or even years, before it was lost?”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. I couldn’t believe what he was saying, because it made perfect sense. The sphere is a part of our history, and may have indeed become a trinket of Caligula’s when it seemed to serve no purpose. If its negative side effects were true, it would definitely explain how Caligula really slipped to madness, as well as how it became worse and worse over his short reign.

  “I must say, sir, your theory is compelling. If you’re right, then I think it’s especially important to find out where the sphere is now. Actually,” I corrected, “we need to find out where both of them are.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking about that as well, but I have no idea where they could be. Hopefully, they’re locked away in a vault somewhere back in Rome.”

  I considered that for a moment. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. When we found them, we needed to destroy them. Even if we could find a way for them to return us to our original place on the timeline, home might not be how we remembered it anymore. We’d need to fix that first, too.

  “You still haven’t answered my question as to your motives behind us arriving here,” I reminded him, not letting him off that easy.

  Vincent stopped, and sat down on a large stone near the porta decumana, while I continued to stand near him. I looked up at the rampart and saw Helena standing on the platform, performing her guard duties. She noticed us beneath her and raised a questioning hand. I waved her off and turned back to Vincent who, meanwhile, had picked up a stick and started drawing lines in the dirt like an eight year old.

  He took another long breath before continuing. “We weren’t supposed to end up in ancient Rome,” he said shaking his head distractedly as he admired his sand drawings. “The Pope hoped to bring the sphere back and study it, and maybe utilize it to help, but only if it could have been done safely, in a controlled way. The Pope’s first team was commissioned to look for the sphere. It had been unsuccessful so far, which is why our second team was created, to help in
that search, while simultaneously eliminating terrorist threats.”

  I frowned. “Was McDougal in on it?”

  “Of course. He was the one who came up with the plan to provide additional supplies for teams who had a direct lead on the sphere. The object was the whole reason we went after Abdullah. And McDougal knew that anything could happen when dealing with something unknown, and he wanted us ready for anything. That’s why we were given the supply cache. Just in case.”

  I looked at him suspiciously. “What about me?”

  Vincent must have known I’d ask about that because he didn’t hesitate. “We had no idea you would be the key to getting us here. Honestly, we didn’t, but you were chosen for reasons other than the ones you were told. We knew the document was written in Etruscan, so chances were it had something to do with antiquity. We knew you were studying the classics before enlisting in the military, and thought it would be a good idea to recruit you. You’d be surprised to learn there aren’t very many military men with the eclectic educational background that you have. I guess we got lucky, but I was just as surprised as you were when we ended up beneath that temple.” He paused for a second. “There’s... more.”

  I waited expectantly, folding my arms across my chest.

  Vincent continued. “We’re under orders to do all that we can to aid the regime in power, to help maintain peace and stability in whatever region we find ourselves in, for as long as possible.” He paused again. “I was ordered to get involved. When we arrived here, I thought our luck couldn’t have been better. Caligula showed such promise.”

  I threw my hands in the air, anger brewing deep inside my chest, and started walking in a small circle. “You can’t be fucking serious! What about the church? Christianity? The Pope, for God’s sakes?! What about our goddamned timeline?! Didn’t you think about Charlemagne, Muhammad, Genghis Khan, King Henry VIII, Admiral Yamamoto… I dunno… Julianna Fucking Margulies?! Didn’t you for one second think you might change all that?”

  “Think about it, Jacob,” he replied calmly, glancing around at the suspicious looks legionnaires had turned after my outburst. “Jesus has already died and risen. Most of our institution’s background is just starting to establish itself as we speak, but in the East. No matter what we do here, things won’t slow down over there. And think about Caligula. Does he seem like the kind of man who would persecute and destroy a population based on their faith like Nero?”

  I thought about that. Caligula seemed far from that kind of man. He had the confidence and arrogance of any Caesar, but he was compassionate, caring, intelligent, and furthermore, a leader. He would have no problem with Christians.

  I still couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could one so willingly try to change the past? The ramifications were unfathomable. Just because we thought we were doing the right thing didn’t mean things would turn out for the better. Things could turn out worse. We had no idea which.

  I turned my back on Vincent, put my hands on my hips, and looked at the ground. This was stupid. We were messing with shit no man had the right to mess with. We had no right to screw with the lives of all those who lived between 37 and 2021 A.D. I looked up at the rampart to see Helena leaning over the rail, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

  I turned back to Vincent. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t. So what do you suggest we do now?”

  “Now? We continue what we’re doing. We help Caligula retain his throne and protect him as long as we can. Maybe help push him in the right direction. I understand Claudius was a far better emperor than Caligula had been in our original time, but it’s obvious something has gone wrong with him, so we need to preserve Caligula. Here’s another question I want you to think about. What else did Praetorians do besides protect their emperor, at least after Augustus?”

  What else did they do? Was that a trick question? The only other thing I could think of was that they actually assassinated their emperors when they weren’t protecting them. What did that have to do with –

  Ah.

  “They had a very influential say in who became the next emperor,” I answered.

  “Right. Damage to their loyalty has already been done during Tiberius’ reign, but we know that the Praetorians were completely loyal to Augustus. What if they became the stalwart protectors they were designed to be once again? We may be dealing with a Praetorian rebellion here, but if Caligula is able to reestablish control, I have to assume there will be a cleansing of the guard.”

  “So, your plan is to stop the precedent of Praetorians controlling the ascendancy of the emperors? Make them into a dedicated bodyguard unit who merely comply, do their duty, and follow orders?”

  “I think that would have an interesting effect on history. We’re already seeing evidence that it could be possible with Caligula’s Sacred Band. Three hundred loyal men can go a long way for an emperor.”

  That they could. The historian inside me was screaming right now. One side told me to preserve our history, and that if we interfered with it, we’d be no better than those men who tweaked what they recorded just because no one could stop them. That voice was too little too late, though, because the other voice was enthusiastically interested in how things could now turn out. Maybe I’d even have great epics written, devoted to my life’s endeavors. They might even make me a god. It worked for Julius Caesar after all.

  “So?” Vincent asked, interrupting my thoughts. “What do you think we should do now?”

  What would I do?

  I knew we couldn’t change what we’d already done. As far as I knew, there wasn’t any way I could change the past, as stupidly ironic as that sounds, so I might as well make the best of it.

  I sighed. “I really wish you would have come to me earlier. We need to work on setting things straight, not changing things for what we perceive may be for the better.”

  Vincent stood up, and placed both hands on my shoulders, a gesture a father would offer his son. “You’re a good officer, Hunter. Like McDougal said, you are quite the Renaissance man, intelligent, moral, and not unable to step back and make rational decisions, not unlike our friend, Caligula. I’m proud to have had this opportunity to serve with you.”

  He held out his hand, which I very slowly grasped.

  “Thanks, I guess. I still can’t believe this and I’m sure as shit not happy about it, but it is what it is.” A cluster fuck, I couldn’t help but think. “So, what should I tell the others?”

  “Tell them what you will, if you feel they truly want to know. I leave it in your hands now. I know you’ll make the right decision.

  Later that night, after my watch was up, I slipped into the tent I shared with Helena, who was already in her sleeping bag. She was fast asleep, so I made every effort not to wake her, but when my head hit the pillow, her eyes fluttered open.

  “I saw you talking with Vincent today,” she said, her head facing away from me. “Seemed pretty intense. Did you find the answers you were looking for?”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Anything I should know about?”

  I thought about that for a second. She deserved to know, as did the rest of the guys, but would their knowing really change anything? They’d just have the same problem I did, with the worst case scenario being it would undermine Vincent’s authority. Even though I hardly felt it would come to that, we needed to stick together, no matter what.

  “If I told you, would it change how you felt about anything?”

  “No,” she whispered, half asleep. “Like I said when we first arrived here, we have to worry about the here and the now. There’s no way to change what was done, and even if there was the chance things might have turned out differently, there’s no point dwelling on it. We just have to make the best of it.”

  “You’re a woman after my own heart,” I joked, but I wasn’t sure if she cracked a smile or not. “I
’ll tell you one thing though: you are right. There is no way to change what happened, but I don’t think making the best of it is what we need to do.”

  “Then what?”

  I turned away from her and closed my eyes. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”