Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome (18 page)

Nothing was left for me there.

Agrippina knew what was in my best interest better than I did, and she was right.

She was totally right.

With the historical knowledge I possessed, the power of the orbs I would soon wield, and Agrippina’s connections, station, and ruthlessness, we could do anything.  I could create a Roman Empire that would truly last ten thousand years.  I could do what so many wannabe tyrants had tried and failed to do in the intervening years between the fall of Rome and the twenty first century.

I could make it work.

In response to these thoughts, I pulled my hands away from her soft and supple rump and placed them against her back, pulling her in roughly.  Our kiss intensified but only for a moment until Agrippina pulled away and smiled at me.  “I knew you would make the right decision, Jacob.”

I found myself smiling back as she pulled herself back in for another kiss, her hands plunging into the water, but just then, the memory of the dark haired individual my mind so often drifted to returned, and it stared at me with such disappointment and sadness that I found myself feeling the same.

I tried to pry Agrippina away from me so that I could breathe, but she was extraordinarily persistent as she tugged at my lip with her teeth.  “No, Jacob,” she said longingly, her teeth still closed until I managed to tug free.  “I want…”

“It’s all right, Agrippina,” I said, suddenly out of breath and perturbed by the memory of the apparition and how easily it had altered my perception.  “Another time.  Soon.  After we find the orb.”

“It will be quite the celebration then,” she said with a coy smile as she pulled her body against my own and hugged me.  She nipped at my ears and neck with her lips as she continued, her voice devious.  “You really are quite lucky, Jacob Hunter.  Perhaps I will invite others to our celebration.  Perhaps your two lovely escorts?”

“Sure,” I said evenly, although I still felt shaken.”

Agrippina kissed my neck one last time and rested her head against my shoulder.  “We’ll do great things together once we find the red orb, Jacob.  Great things.”

I nodded, feeling her damp hair against my cheek.

“We certainly will,” I said, my resolve strengthening.

While I couldn’t understand the reason why that dark figure so often plagued my thoughts, it never seemed to manifest itself when thoughts of the red orb entered my mind.  Despite the memory’s apparent reluctance to see Agrippina and me fully consummate our relationship, I knew it would be of no trouble once I had the red orb.  The world would be my playground then, and with all the power in the universe to bend it to my will, there wasn’t a thing it could do to stop me.

Part Two

V

Leadership

May, 44 A.D.

Eastern Gaul

Diana Hunter

Although I’d lived my entire life in a world at war, the sounds of warfare weren’t ones I was at all familiar with. I’d never been on the front lines, nor had I ever been witness to any of the domestic military actions that had plagued America since before I was born.  I’d led a rather sheltered life, and while I was quite aware of how bleak a world stuck in an endless loop of destruction could be, nothing had prepared me for this.

Over a month ago, the Romans had abandoned their conquered territory in Britain the day after Galba had announced his intention to leave.  No one had been very excited about the decision, least of all the legionnaires who had bled and died to conquer it in the years before, but they hadn’t grumbled much, knowing it wasn’t their place to question or argue.

As for the rest of us, it had been met with mixed emotion.

Most of us had wanted to go straight to Rome, under armed guard or on our own.  All we wanted to do was find Jacob and help him, although there were still grumblings among some about abandoning him completely.  Jeanne wanted leave to connect with his wife, which had been our plan all along even though we weren’t anywhere near our previously agreed upon rendezvous site.  James was still upset over Jacob’s betrayal and TJ and Georgia were both nervously aware that they didn’t really have a reason to fight anymore.

And no one had mentioned that we would have to fight a major battle along the way.

We had been marching without incident through conquered Roman territory in Gaul when we had been attacked earlier this morning.  Had Jacob or Vincent been here, they could have easily explained what was happening and why.  I didn’t know if there had been a battle in the original timeline that would have offered insight into why we had been attacked today, or if the current political situation had simply led insurgents in this part of the world to take up arms against Rome.  It seemed odd that we would be attacked in a portion of the world that had been, until this morning, thought of as peaceful, but with all the minor rebellions and skirmishes that had broken out throughout the Empire, it didn’t seem extraordinarily unusual.

At least the legions had been prepared, even if I had not.

Marching through a wide clearing at the base of a valley with a dense forests on both slopes, we had been ambushed by wild-eyed and frenzied men who wore cheap-looking armor and wielded axes the size of my legs.  The Romans, swift to respond, had shifted their position into battle lines that could defend us from either side, creating a narrow band of open space through the center of their once densely packed column.

That was about the extent of my technical knowledge on what had happened, but I’d tried to keep up as I passively participated in the initial part of the battle by staying out of the way.

It all seemed a blur, as hours upon hours of fighting had left the valley soaked in a river of blood, but we’d long ago abandoned the location for higher ground and a more defensible fighting position – or so I’d been told later by James, who I had been with since our push up the eastern slope of the valley.  The hill on our left had a lower slope than the one on the right, and the trees were less densely packed, so once the original confusion of the ambush had been overcome, Galba and his other generals had organized their men into a formation that pushed through the enemy while simultaneously staying engaged with those attacking from the other side.

A marvel of communication and professionalism, it was remarkable the way the officers had communicated through messengers running up and down the battle line, which stretched for nearly two miles. Even more impressive was the way everyone had done exactly as they’d been ordered, exactly when they were supposed to.  Like an organic machine, each cog acted in perfect, systematic coordination to the design of some greater power that had complete control over every facet of the battle

I’d been amazed as the Roman army had cut its way up the hill, slicing through hordes of attackers, pushing them aside like they were little more than toy soldiers being wiped away by a child playing make believe.  Their strategy hadn’t been to kill enemy soldiers, but to simply push them aside so that we could relocate to better ground, and I remember running through the midst of the chaos, leading my panicking horse by her reins, as soldiers all around me shouted and grunted and did everything they could to keep the enemy combatants at bay with their shields.

Our struggle to take the hill had left us surrounded for what had seemed like half the day, but in reality had only been about an hour.  I’d only been near the thick of the fighting at its onset, but as soon as the command was given, the legions created a kind of triangle to drive through the enemy.  Victory had seemed impossible when we were completely surrounded, but then, like an air bubble escaping the depths of its watery surroundings, our force had burst through the tail end of the enemy and had spread to the left and to the right in yet another series of well-choreographed maneuvers that allowed those legionnaires engaged with the enemy to remain in the battle, while the others had slipped around the back to extend the ends of our formation.

Jacob had often lectured that the strength of a Roman legion rested in its ability to outmaneuver the enemy, but I hadn’t really understood what that had meant until I’d seen it today.

I’d barely comprehended how the Romans could have moved so precisely, but it was hard to deny my own eyes.  In what seemed like only heartbeats, our forces had taken the high ground and regrouped in a way that had recreated the original long line of legionnaires, but now with all of them facing down the hill, trapping every single enemy combatant in front of them.  Casualties had been sustained during the maneuver, far too many to justify the action in my mind at the time, but as our forces had pushed the enemy back down the hill over the course of the next few hours, I’d come to understand that sometimes there was a cost to victory.

It had been incredible to see the battle firsthand, to witness how exciting and visceral it was, but I also observed the unbearable and often ignored aftermath: the body count.

It was astronomical.

Both sides had lost thousands of men, if I had to guess, but the death toll had been grossly one-sided, at least once the Romans had taken the high ground and begun their counterattack.  During the push up the hill, the loss ratio between Romans and barbarians had been perhaps one to one – I really had no way of confirming – but as they fought their way down the hill, the ratio increased precipitously.  For every legionnaires I saw on the ground, there were a dozen enemy casualties.  What was more, while many of the legionnaires that had fallen were only wounded, every single one of the enemy was already dead.

And I knew why.

I’d watched as the wounded had been executed by Romans that trailed the front line, like buzzards sweeping for a meal.  It was a sickening sight, just another thing I hadn’t been prepared for, but in the context of war, it made a grizzly kind of sense.

The rest of my friends were off on their own, fighting at random points along the battle line, while Helena and Alex had situated themselves atop the hill to fire sniper rounds at the enemy.  I hadn’t questioned any of it, knowing they were all doing what they could to ensure our end goal was still attainable, but with little military training at my disposal, I had no way of helping.  There was nothing I could do to affect the tide of battle besides stay out of the way.  I had no way to influence its final outcome, and I’d felt helpless.  I found myself doing nothing but sitting in the rear with all the other non-combatants, watching the legionnaires march down the hill, and listening to Alex and Helena’s slow and meticulous stream of rifle shots. I had been dismayed when those around me had joked and took bets concerning the outcome of the fighting.

That was when James, the one person out of us all who could often find other ways to contribute to a battle besides killing people, had found me.  He’d noticed my utter shock over the events of the day, and had gently asked if I would be willing to help him tend to the wounded.  I had about as much training in the medical field as I had in the military one, but I’d been touched by his confidence that I could help.  It had taken me a few moments before I’d finally taken his proffered hand and allowed him to help me up.  He’d patted my shoulder and nodded his thanks, but had then taken off to aid those in need without another word.  Once I’d caught up, I’d asked him whether he was worried about our friends being hurt and him being unable to help, but he’d answered simply by saying that this was something they were all used to, and that if someone was hurt, they’d notify him over the radio. 

Until that happened, he would care for the Romans.

Luckily, such a call never came, and he and I had spent the rest of the battle tending to those James determined could be saved.  We’d spent four hours treating the wounded, moving from one fallen body to another, helping those who could be saved and abandoning those who were too far gone.  It had been another heart wrenching experience, one I hadn’t handled very well at first either.  I’d pleaded with James to help the first man we’d come across, a legionnaire whose arm had been severed above the elbow and had a deep gash across his chest.  But James had only taken five seconds to look at the man before wordlessly moving on to the next. I’d reached out and grabbed his arm, demanding that he help the man.

But he hadn’t. 

He hadn’t even explained his reasoning to me.  He’d simply pulled away and pushed on, but I stayed with the wounded man, not knowing what to do, holding his remaining hand as I’d recited empty encouragements that he would be all right.  The man hadn’t seemed to hear any of it.  He was drowning in his own blood, but in his last moments he’d looked up at me and smiled.

I’d held his eyes as well as I could and had barely understood him as he spoke his dying words, “A fine sight… look upon in… death…”

And then he’d died, only fifteen seconds after Wang had abandoned him.

His eyes had had remained open, and when I’d moved to close them, it truly hit me just how completely alien war and death was to those who had never experienced it before, because his eyes simply would not close.  Even though he’d only been dead for seconds, his eye lids remained stubbornly open. Likewise, as I’d tried to remove my hand from his grip, I’d struggled with that action as well.  The man was stiff and unrelenting, and I had had to jerk myself backward to escape, landing in puddle of mud mixed with blood.

I’d felt like crying, but with the realization of how horrid war actually was came determination.  I was no longer upset at James for so heartlessly leaving him to die, because I finally understood that there was no place for heart on a battlefield.  There was no place for a soul when so many unique, irreplaceable individuals were murdered without remorse.  And emotions were best left locked away against moments when they could cripple you with indecisiveness.  All that was left was to do what was necessary, save those who could be saved, stay alive, and… kill those who had to be killed.

In a way, I’d come to understand all of Jacob’s pain and suffering over the years as I’d stared at the corpse of the man who had been alive just seconds before, and I’d also come to appreciate the cold, almost inhuman devotion that had infected Helena.  There was no place for sentimentality or humanity when the only other choice was death or destruction.

The choice was simple, and I’d learned it wasn’t much of a choice at all.

I’d left the man then and found James only a few steps away, tending to another victim who had a nasty gash in this thigh. I’d taken stock of the situation, noticing that he was an understandably uncooperative patient as James dug around in his leg with a pair of forceps, and the only thing I could think to do was sit on the man’s chest and use my hands to hold his unwounded leg down so Wang could focus on the other.

A doctor would have scoffed at my unorthodox treatment plan, but James had nodded at my arrival, not taking his eyes off his work.  The man writhed in pain underneath me, so I wasn’t even upset when he’d reached up and grabbed my butt.  I’d glanced over my shoulder and seen that he wasn’t even looking at me as he’d tried to fight through the pain, and I’d done nothing to remove his hands, realizing that he’d simply needed something to hang on to.

When James finished, he’d offered the man a pain killer – a local medicinal treatment that he’d apparently manufactured years ago during his time in Greece – and the man had slowly settled down.  Gently lifting myself from his chest, I’d turned to look down at him as James had taken off for another patient.  I’d held his head and waited for him to look at me, but when he did, he’d jerked away from me, but in surprise, not pain

“You’ll be fine,” I’d told him, with a smile.

He’d stared at me and nodded.  “Thank you… goddess.”

Word had spread over a month ago that I shared a name with a Roman goddess, and these naïve Romans hadn’t been able to comprehend that I wasn’t also some kind of goddess. Even though the mistaken association had probably stemmed from some chauvinistic or misogynistic origin, I was glad that my mere presence had offered this man some comfort.  If seeing a female face as they dealt with the aftermath of war and injury made them feel better, I would look at every single one of them if I could.