The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (53 page)

I looked to the left past the 1st cohort, and saw
staggering lines and wavering troops. Things were definitely not
going as well as we’d hoped, and I couldn’t see past them to find
out what was happening with Caligula’s men. I couldn’t help but
think this whole thing might have been a big mistake, and that our
plans had failed the day Santino and I failed to set the explosives
along the walls of Rome.

I looked to Nisus, waiting impatiently for my
orders.

He was keeping his calm, but he knew he had to pull
this thing together before it fell apart completely. “Go,” he said
to me. “Find the breach on the left. I will take the 1st and 7th to
assist.

I nodded, before glancing over at Helena. “Ready for
this?”

She tilted her head to the side and met my eyes. “I
am, but remember…”

“No dying… I know.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

We peeled away from the 1st cohort, and ran behind
their lines as fast we could. We passed between the 7th cohort,
receiving cheers as we did so before we came face to face with the
grim reality that was the 8th cohort’s fate. Its line wasn’t only
breached but being annihilated, chopped down by a swarm of
Praetorians, and I quickly knew why.

Behind them, high on his black horse rode Claudius,
sword and orb in hand, shouting orders, his anger and charisma
driving his men forward.

Even so, he wasn’t the problem right now, and I
focused my attention on the troops.

Just as with the 2nd cohort only ten minutes
earlier, the Praetorians had crashed into the gap between the
cohort segments. Unlike before, they exploited it far more
effectively and had pushed aside the halved cohorts beyond the
point where they could help each other. There might have been forty
Praetorians standing within the gap, effectively surrounding the
2nd.

Placing myself thirty yards from them, I dropped to
a knee and started pouring fire into the gap. I counted two dozen
men go down, before I had to reload. A new magazine in place, I
pulled out my second grenade and readied to throw it. Helena was
still firing her P90’s larger mag, while simultaneously readying a
grenade of her own.

The Praetorians noticed our intervention in their
small victory, as did Claudius. He immediately recognized me and
pointed his sword in my direction and yelled. Many men turned away
from the legionnaires they were fighting and started running
towards Helena and me, completely exposed and alone. I primed the
grenade and chucked it in their path, and Helena quickly followed
suit with her own.

The grenades detonated just as the first men passed
by them, obliterating another dozen or so from their ranks. There
seemed to be an endless stream of them funneling through the breach
and I knew it wouldn’t be enough. I kept up my fire from my
kneeling position, reloaded, and spent one of my last magazines as
they came within ten yards of my position. Then I froze when I saw
them nearly upon us, having no idea what to do.

The training drilled into my skull during the past
winter completely abandoned me. Hesitation in the face of impending
death was an interesting feeling. It wasn’t something I was
familiar with, and because of it, I couldn’t even
attempt
to
help myself. All I could do was wait for the inevitable as I
squeezed my eyes shut.

When it didn’t come, I felt my fear turn first into
confusion, before it turned into fear again. When I peeked through
my right eye, I saw hundreds of spears flying over my head. It took
me a second to realize these spears hadn’t come from the enemy, but
from a maniple of the legion’s 3rd cohort, who had been ordered to
secure this position as well. I got my senses about me in time to
see three Praetorians running at me, survivors of the
pila
barrage. No time to pull my shield from my back, no time to think,
no time to run, when the first Praetorian lunged at me, my Special
Forces training finally kicked in, and I immediately reacted to the
threat.

Still kneeling, I pivoted away from the man’s sword
thrust, grabbing his sword arm in one motion. Using his forward
momentum against him, I stuck out a leg, tripping him to the
ground, while using his fall to pull me to my feet. Mid maneuver,
his sword brushed across my forearm and opened up a nasty gash
there, right where the last one had healed after escaping Rome.

Helena was not going to be happy.

The motion that threw him to the ground, and brought
me to my feet, had so much momentum behind it, I nearly stumbled
alongside him. With a little luck, I kept my balance, and turned to
face my opponent, who was still lying with his face in the grass.
Just as he started to twitch, I put a bullet in the back of his
head.

I looked frantically for Helena, and quickly found
her standing over the remaining two opponents, her shield at the
ready. The bodies had a cluster of neat bullet holes in their
chests.

Apparently, she hadn’t panicked.

How embarrassing.

I turned back towards the gap in our lines, only to
find it still there, and another wave of Praetorians running at us.
I sighed and pulled out my sword and shield, slinging Penelope
behind my back, waiting for the onslaught. I was so distracted by
my own doom and gloom that I barely noticed my saviors from the 3rd
cohort rush past me. As they ran past, I knew I wouldn’t have to
fight this battle after all. The one hundred and sixty legionnaires
met those few remaining Praetorians, and started pushing them back
towards the hole.

I fell to my knees and dropped my equipment,
gripping my forearm.

Helena calmly walked over, knelt beside me, and
gently inspected my arm. Shaking her head, she pulled out yet
another bandage, pressed it against my arm and wrapped the
wound.

“You really need to stop getting hurt,” she told me
matter of factly.

“I know, I just…”

“You have a shield for a reason.”

“Yeah, but…”

“They help stop swords.”

“But…”

“No excuses,” she said, tightening the bandage to
punctuate her order.

I groaned slightly under the pressure. It always
seemed to hurt more when she was fixing me up.

“You are relentless,” I said, smiling up at her as
the pain rescinded. “It must be why I…”

I was interrupted by even more commotion. I turned
to see the legionnaires nearest me looking to the far left,
pointing with expressions of shock on their faces. I followed their
outstretched arms to see both loyal and rebel Praetorians still
pounding against one another. I also saw Santino and Vincent,
running randomly throughout the battle, sticking together and using
their rifles only against immediate threats. I saw Wang near the
rear, working on a man who already had his left leg amputated. I
had no idea where Bordeaux was.

The only thing exceptional enough to draw the
attention of the entire legion had to be Caligula. He and his
cavalry bodyguard unit had crashed into the enemy’s line, and were
steadily and smoothly chopping away at the enemy Praetorians, who
were in complete shock at his reckless bravado. Claudius noticed as
well, and moved to meet the challenge.

This must have been the sign Caligula had told us to
look for, and Helena’s expression confirmed my theory. She pulled
me to my feet, and we ran to join Vincent and Santino, who were
trying to make their way to Caligula’s side as well.

“How much ammo do you have left?” I asked her, as we
pushed allies to the side and sidestepped corpses.

“Half a mag, but a full load for my pistol.
You?”

“Pistol’s fresh, but only one mag for my rifle, and
I’m saving it.” I had already shouldered Penelope and pulled out my
Sig.

After Caligula had gallantly charged forward, his
Sacred Band had kept its U-formation, trying to follow in his wake.
Normally, it would have been fruitless, but with Santino and
Vincent helping out, they were moving through. Once Helena and I
joined only a minute later, our Praetorians had effectively pushed
the enemy’s left flank aside, and were wheeling around, trying to
get behind the enemy Praetorians who were still systematically
destroying the
XV Primigenia
. The legion was probably a bit
below half strength at this point and could use our help as soon as
possible.

Santino and Vincent had been reduced to their
pistols as well, but protected within the Sacred Band’s cocoon; the
four of us could pick our targets with ease. We ignored our
training of aiming for a person’s center mass, and went for head
shots. Moving along the interior of our lines, I would pop a shot
off at the first target of opportunity, spin out the way, and find
another target. It was tedious and gruesome work, but with two
opposing forces deadlocked in a clash of shields, it was the only
offensive gesture I could perform.

We pushed our way through the throng of bad guys as
a unit, and found ourselves witnessing a spectacle one only read
about in rare histories or mythology. Seated on their horses,
Caligula and Claudius had engaged themselves in a duel of emperors,
the death of one enough to perhaps end the war. It reminded me of
Homer again, who when recording the duel between Patrocolus and
Hector, amongst many other duels, indicated men on both sides
simply stopped fighting, to form a protective circle around the
duelists, and watched.

If only that were the case here.

Instead, a circle had indeed formed around the
emperors, with a diameter of about thirty yards to fight in, but
instead of the perimeter watching, it was being contested as well.
As though on secret orders, the Sacred Band spread out to fortify
the circle, letting no one in, or out. It would be tough to
accomplish, with many enemy Praetorians from the battle with the
legion turning to aid their traitorous emperor now fighting behind
their lines.

Caligula had made a far bigger mess than any of us
could have ever hoped to.

I settled into position along the circle, waiting to
see a target pop into view, while trying to keep at least one eye
on the battle. When this was all said and done, I was writing it
down, and it was going to be accurate to the letter. I’d lost track
of Helena once again, but she seemed to be handling the whole
legionnaire thing better than I was anyway.

She’d be fine.

***

Claudius scored the first victory.

Resourcefully, he used the blue sphere as a type of
shield, its round and seemingly impenetrable exterior an
interesting device to turn away sword thrusts. Caligula began his
attack with a downward slash of his sword towards Claudius’ wrist,
but was surprised when his sword ricocheted off the orb. Claudius
barked a laugh and used his foot, not hindered by a stirrup, to
kick Caligula from his horse.

On his knees, Caligula waited for Claudius to run
him down. Just as the emperor hoped, Claudius galloped forward
recklessly. His horse gave Claudius a clear advantage, but it also
bred overconfidence. As he reached the downed emperor, Claudius
could never have foreseen that Caligula would wield a broken
pilum
like a baseball bat. Sidestepping the horse, Caligula
swung at Claudius’ abdomen, dropping him to the ground as well.

As their two steeds chased each other off the
battlefield, Caligula did not let up. With both men unhorsed, they
were once again on an equal playing field, but Caligula’s younger
and more vibrant body gave him the edge, and while he had lost his
sword, he was not defenseless. He must have been paying attention
during our self-defense lessons, occasionally sparring with
Vincent, because when Claudius tried to slam the sphere into the
side of his head, Caligula easily blocked the swipe with his broken
spear. He pressed his advantage by twirling in a circle as he moved
forward, using his speed to hurl a spinning backfist into
Claudius’s jaw. He finished his attack by sweeping into Claudius’
body and tossing him to the ground.

With Claudius on his back, Caligula started raining
soccer kicks to the usurper’s head, and bludgeoning him with his
broken
pilum
. The melee had turned into a brawl. Hardly a
limb went untouched, and when his uncle rolled over onto his back,
propped up on an arm, Caligula held the spear tip at his
throat.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

I was distracted when I had to block an incoming
sword myself, and run my attacker through the abdomen with my own.
When I looked back, Caligula had already fallen for the oldest
trick in the book. Claudius had thrown a fistful of dirt in his
face, and Caligula dropped his spear as he staggered back, clawing
at his eyes to clear his vision. Claudius struggled to his feet and
came at Caligula like a drunken bare knuckled boxer, scoring a few
easy punches to sternum and face. Caligula covered up like any good
boxer would after taking a few more blows and countered a quick jab
with an uppercut to Claudius’ jaw. The blow knocked the crazed man
back a few feet and Caligula wasted no more time fooling around. In
a very non-dramatic and un-heroic manner, Caligula picked up the
iron spear head he’d dropped earlier and hurled it with all his
might. With no wooden shaft, the spear did exactly what every
modern historian theorized it couldn’t. It hit its target square in
the chest, the tip extending inches out of Claudius’ back.

Still clutching the sphere as he fell to his knees,
he looked down at the
pilum
in his chest, randomly grabbing
for the shaft. Too weak to get a grip on the spear, he looked at
his nephew before falling over onto his side. He tried to offer one
last sinister smile, but with death’s hold overwhelming him, so did
the orb’s influence wan, and his face seemed at peace. Caligula
caught him just before he fell to the ground.

Turning away another sword blow, I was distracted
and could never be sure, but I thought I saw tears running down the
true emperor’s eyes as Claudius uttered his last few words, his
arms falling limp at his sides, and the sphere rolling a few feet
away from his body.