Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome (21 page)

I smiled, reveling silently in my small victory.  “Well you must have,” I said jokingly, “since you even ended up with a woman’s name.”

Jeanne frowned at my comment and I realized I’d overstepped myself.  “Jeanne, sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.  I was just jok…”

“Don’t apologize, Diana,” he said, a smile forming on his lips.  “You think I can’t take a joke after having spent as much time with Santino as I have?  Besides, I am not ashamed of my name.  I chose it, after all.”

“You picked your own name?”  I asked, confused.

“Well,” he started, shifting his feet.  “My given name is Jean, which is the proper French form for a boy, but my mother’s name was Jeanne.  She died when I was very young; an unfortunate automobile accident.  She’d been a lovely woman and I love her dearly still, but soon after she’d passed, an older boy in school teased me about her death and started calling me by her name, Jeanne.  He’d been a friend when we were very young but we’d grown apart by then – obviously – and he became the first person I ever rendered unconscious.  After that, I asked my father if I could officially change my name to Jeanne in her honor, and he agreed.  In hindsight, it may not have been the wisest decision… although it gave me constant motivation to become the prime specimen of manhood you see before you today.”

I rolled my eyes.  “You’ve been spending too much time with John and James.”

He nodded with a long sigh in silent agreement.  “Unfortunately, you are all too correct, but it is true.  Besides… this world is rough and if a man named Jeanne’s gonna make it, he has to be tough …”

He trailed off, perhaps expecting me to understand a reference, but despite how odd the words sounded around his accent, I didn’t.

He looked confused.  “
A Boy Named Sue
?”

I shook my head.  “What’s that?”

“Johnny Cash?”

I shook my head again.

He looked amazed.  “A great pity.  The song became a favorite of mine.  It helped me through a childhood spent with a girl’s name, no need to mention my time in the military.  In the end, I have little regret over my chosen name and don’t mind explaining its origin… just don’t tell Santino or Wang.  One’s an American and the other a Brit, and neither understand a thing about the refined nature of the French naming system.”

He raised a finger over his lips and winked at me.

I smiled.  “No problem… Jeanne.  I…” Just then, my stomach decided to growl violently.

He glanced down and smiled, gesturing with his mug in the direction of the legion mess area.  “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“
Moi aussi
,” he said as he glanced up at the sky.  “Dinner should still be available.”

I looked at him in surprise.  “It’s that late?”

He chuckled but didn’t answer, turning me around and leading me toward where the legion’s cooks prepared meals while camped for extended periods of time.  It was a good five minute walk, so I turned back to Jeanne as we walked, not wanting to spend it in silence.

“So what happened yesterday?”  I asked, looking up at my towering companion.  “In the end?”

His face looked grim as he answered.  “We won, but at great cost.  Between the three legions, we lost about half a legion’s worth of men, and maybe another half wounded.  The Praetorians fared considerably better but the auxilia were gutted.  Almost half of Galba’s fighting force is incapacitated.”

“What about us?”  I asked, surprised that I would so easily gloss over the pain and suffering of
so
many men.

“We all made it,” he answered, his voice lifting a bit.  “Stryker has a concussion from a stone slung at him, and I took a spear to the arm.”  He shrugged his right arm at the comment, and I finally noticed the bandage wrapped around his massive upper arm.

“Are you all right?”  I asked, instantly worried.

“Oh, I’m fine, Artie,” he said teasingly.  “I’ve had far worse.”

“And John?”

Jeanne smiled knowingly at me.  “Fine… of course.  His only weakness seems to be women he actually likes…”

I blushed at the comment, not sure exactly what he meant by it, and turned away, but still had more questions on my mind as the mess hall materialized before me as we rounded the corner of a large tent we’d been walking beside.

“So what happens now?”

He shrugged.  “Galba will want to split his force as originally intended, but I think even he isn’t so bold as to march with so many wounded.  I think we will stay here for a few weeks before finally continuing on.”

I halted mid-step and flung out a hand to grip his uninjured arm, barely able to wrap my fingers around it to take hold.  Politely, he stopped, even though I had no way of making him.

“But that will delay our trip to Rome!”  I said loudly.  “Jacob needs us!  We can’t…”

“I know, Diana, but Galba is a hard man to deal with, and Helena made an agreement with him.  We can’t break it now or he’ll never trust us.  Christ, he’s
never
trusted us, but he always did tolerate us.  We can’t risk what little faith we have left.”

“But…”

Another voice cut in, interrupting me from somewhere behind me.

“No butts, Artie…” it said, “…unless you’re talking about mine, of course.”

I turned as I recognized the voice immediately, and flung my arms around John’s neck as he gathered me up into a hug.  I held onto him tightly, elated to see him alive and well after a battle that had taken the lives of so many.  It didn’t seem possible that all of my friends had survived relatively unscathed, but they were the best.  They didn’t take chances and they knew how to survive, and I was so glad that they did.

I pulled back and looked at his scarred but handsome face, and grinned at him.  “Guess I’m stuck with you then,” I said, playing it straight.

He frowned.  “Guess so.  I’m about as hard to get rid of as a tick, but much better looking.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  “That isn’t saying much.”

He shrugged and smiled again.  “Better than nothing.”

He pulled me after him, leading me to where Jeanne stood.  He grinned up at the larger man, who looked back at him with a nervous expression.  John, ignoring Jeanne’s sudden apprehension, simply looped his arm through my own and then did the same with Jeanne’s, linking the three of us together in a chain.  Clicking his boots together a few times, he started to skip toward the mess, dragging the two of us with him.

Jeanne, however, didn’t seem very enthusiastic as he immediately stopped, yanking John to a halt as well.  John glared up at him.  “Come on, Toto.  We’re off to see the chef… because of the not so wonderful but still edible things he does… because, because, because…”

Jeanne frowned at John.  “I don’t want to be the dog…”

“Don’t interrupt me in the middle of my song, you big baby,” John warned, nothing but sarcasm in his voice.  “With the way you’re acting, you’re lucky I don’t throw you to the flying monkeys the minute we finally run into them.  The way this story’s shaping up, I expect them to show up by next Tuesday.”

Jeanne rolled his eyes but finally fell into step with us as we continued on, although he did tear his arm away from John’s and distanced himself from us.

I smiled at the interchange, joining John in his skips toward the mess as he hummed, not having a clue what they were talking about.  I thought about seeking clarification, but then decided against it, not wanting to upset John’s mood or ruin his joke.  Whatever it had been in reference to, it certainly seemed odd, and I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of genetic experiments had been done in their timeline that had created monkeys that could fly.

***

Half an hour later, the three of us were sitting at a table beneath a wide tent meant to accommodate hundreds of men, having finally procured a meal for ourselves.  Georgia had joined us about fifteen minutes ago, having cut her way to our position in the line of legionnaires, looking for a hot meal of her own.  Some had grumbled about her moving ahead of them, but the rest of them respected her too much to do anything but whisk her forward.

In fact, as soon as Jeanne and John had entered the tent, a cheer had rang out from the gathered soldiers.  Those in line clapped while those at the tables pounded their mugs, and the chefs had offered to serve them first, but we’d politely declined and stepped to the back of the line.  They were like gods in the eyes of these legionnaires, and Georgia, like Helena, was even more popular than the men.  She wasn’t as beautiful as Helena, but she was less aloof and far more friendly and cordial with the troops, which endeared her all the more to them.

But for all the adulation and high spirits in the mess area, the food was still horrible.  The bread was fine, though a bit chewy for my taste, but the oatmeal-type food in the bowl before me was nearly inedible.  Chunky and runny at the same time, I made more of an effort stirring it than I did eating it.  Disgusted, I threw my spoon at the table and looked up to see John smiling at me toothily, bits of oatmeal stuck in his teeth.  My stomach churned and I looked over his shoulder to distract myself.

I watched the legionnaires in line, taking heart at their elated attitude and confident demeanor, but my joy faded when I saw Archer standing near the center of the queue, waiting patiently with the rest of them.  He shuffled forward when the line dictated it, but then cast his eyes downward when he was stationary.  John noticed my attention and twisted at the waist to look as well, just in time to see Archer grab a bowl of gruel and a chunk of bread and head for an empty table to sit alone, ignoring us completely.

John turned back to me, gesturing at Archer with a fully loaded spoon, causing a bit of it to splash against Georgia’s cheek.  She glared at him as she wiped it off with a finger but John ignored her.

“What’s his problem anyway?”  He asked

I thought about telling him, the secret weighing on me more and more as of late, but quickly concluded that John would probably kill Archer right here and now if he knew the truth, and I was fairly certain Jeanne wouldn’t even try to stop him.  They would immediately assume the worst and wouldn’t give Archer the benefit of the doubt, which was difficult even for me. 

I shook my head and was about to change the topic when every single legionnaire within the mess tent suddenly rose to their feet to stand with rigid attention.  I looked left and right, hoping to see what had grabbed their attention, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

A heartbeat later, I heard a commanding and familiar voice rise above the silence.  “Stand down, men.  Go back to your meals.”

A thundering yell from hundreds of men followed.  “At your command!”

The intensity and unexpectedness of the decree startled me, and I nearly fell out of my seat as the gathered mass of legionnaires retook their seats en masse, almost too synchronized to believe, but once they were all settled, the tent returned to its earlier state of relaxed and unprofessional attitudes.

Only three men remained standing besides those serving food or being served.

Galba, Gaius, and Marcus were scanning the crowd until Galba’s eyes caught mine and he led his little group straight to our table.  My heart sank.  I was never sure what Galba would say, how he’d treat us, or what decision he’d make that would affect our lives.

“Galba, my good man,” John said enthusiastically, as he, too, noticed their approach.  “Join us for some glorious chow.  Your chefs serve only the gloopiest of porridge.  You should be proud.”

Galba grunted as he walked around our table to sit beside me, offering me a quick look as he sat heavily upon the wooden bench.  “It is often difficult to remember why I still like you,” Galba huffed, folding his hands upon the table in front of him.  “Yet still I do.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” John replied casually as he smacked Jeanne’s back, causing him to spill his spoonful of porridge-oatmeal.  “Bordeaux here has been my buddy for like seven years now, and he’s still trying to figure it out as well.”

“Indeed…” Jeanne mumbled while John offered him a hurt look that was clearly intended for comical purposes.

Galba shook his head, but then he hooked his thumb directly at me with his elbow still resting upon the table.  “And this one apparently seems to love you.  Strange.  Although I shouldn’t be surprised…”

I didn’t dare move as I sat there, stunned that Galba would say such a thing…
know
such a thing…
think
such a thing, and I felt my cheeks grow hot.  I couldn’t help but glance at Georgia, who sat to John’s right, looking as though someone had just died.  Her mouth was closed but paused in mid-chew.  She shifted her eyes to look at me, and tried to offer me a small smile in support, but all it did was make me bury my face in my hands in embarrassment.

John, of course, was no help.  “Hunters do the craziest things sometimes… don’t they?”

Galba didn’t respond verbally, but it wasn’t difficult to envision him nodding, his jowls jiggling in response. I didn’t dare move my hands away for fear that I’d open my eyes to see everyone staring at me.  Instead, I just sat there, waiting for the conversation to move on, which it thankfully did moments later.