Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion

by Edward Crichton

  But then I lost it anyway.

  I hated that tears came so easily to me now. It hadn’t been so easy in my other life, not since my father had smacked and punched the tears from my system when I was just a kid. Men don’t cry, or so he was always so fond of telling me, and the only time I could remember crying before arriving in Rome was at the news of my mother’s death, and even then my tears had been light, and had dried quickly.

  When I cried now, however, I wept, no longer caring what others thought or even being aware that they were nearby to judge. Even Homer’s Greek heroes had openly wept, all the time in fact, from Achilles to Hector to Odysseus, and I was no different now. It was all I could do to keep myself from dying inside, all I could do to release my demons before they grew out of my control.

  I felt myself leaning forward now, my head dipping toward Vincent’s body so that my forehead could rest against his chest as I sobbed. My hand reached out and grabbed for his head, and around my tears, I wanted to do nothing more than to rip his hair out or beat his face to a pulp for leaving me like this. How many times had I gone to him for advice? Tell him of my issues? Seek his guidance in a time of need, knowing he’d never betray my confidence or lead me in the wrong direction? Like a priest he’d once pretended to be, Vincent had been such a consistent force for good in my life, one I could turn to at every impasse and seek everything a man without direction could need.

  And even a degree of salvation as well, it had seemed.

  He’d been the father I’d never had, and now, like with Varus, I would have to be the one to tell Titus and his infant son, Brian Wilson, that he was dead. That he would never again return to guide them, to teach them, to offer them the support they would need as they grew older.

  All because of me.

  “Jacob…”

  The voice came from behind me, but it wasn’t Helena’s, and I was too distracted to recognize it. Nor did I want to. All I wanted was to stay by Vincent’s side and let go of the pain within me, one tear at a time.

  “Jacob… it’s all right.”

  The voice was closer now, and I felt a hand land on my shoulder and rub it gently. It pulled me back, comfortingly, and I turned to pull whoever it was into a hug. I didn’t even care if the hand belonged to Archer in that moment; all I cared about was the comfort he would give me.

  Through blurry eyes, I looked at the man willing to risk interrupting my grief, half expecting it to be Bordeaux or Wang, both very supportive individuals in their own ways, but the man was neither large enough nor small enough to be either. I figured it to be Santino then, but when my eyes cleared, I discovered it was Santino either.

  It was Vincent.

  My tears dried up almost immediately and I recoiled from his touch, practically flinging myself to the side and away from him. I scrambled backward in a crab crawl, almost barreling my way into Archer and Brewster who stood on the other side of the gathered circle, staring at me with looks that would warrant the, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” comment.

  Because I had.

  “It’s all right, Jacob,” Vincent said from where he knelt with his hand held in my direction. “It’s all right to be upset. She didn’t deserve this.”

  She?

  Who?

  My head jerked left and right, registering the faces around me. All of my original friends were there with Archer and Brewster standing on either side of me, and Cuyler was beside her, Stryker stood beside him.

  It was then that Brewster knelt down and placed her hand on my back to keep me from scooting even further away, but she looked up desperately, not really knowing how to handle the situation. No one had any advice to offer her as they stood just as shocked and upset as I was – except those emotions were now clearly directed at my reaction, rather than the loss of their friend.

  Finally, with my heart racing, I worked up the nerve to look at the body. I stood, Brewster standing with me and offering her support, but when I stepped forward she remained where she was. After another step, I looked down and discovered that the corpse below me was no longer Vincent, but Technical Sergeant Patricia Martin, her short, disheveled hair just a wet mop atop her head and the sun tattoo on her cheek somehow darker now.

  The cause of death was obvious. There was a small, red circle in the center of her throat, either the entry or exit wound from an arrow. Perhaps Wang had been busy, or hadn’t noticed and hadn’t been there for her as he had been for so many of us over the years, and she must have bled out – a slow, lonely, terrifying death.

  I looked up and saw Vincent’s comforting eyes again, and he too seemed on the verge of tears, perhaps my own emotional outburst too much for him as well. In fact, the expression was shared by many. Tears streamed from Helena’s eyes to intermingle with drops of rain that escaped her hair to pour down her cheeks, while Santino stood beside her, holding her with a consoling arm wrapped around her back, his own eyes looking just as dour.

  But expressions all around were shifting now, turning to look just as confused as I felt. They didn’t understand my initial, emotional outburst, how severe it had been, and how it had all just evaporated in an instant.

  Nor did I, and it left me feeling empty.

  I risked one last look at Martin, who was very obviously not Vincent.

  My mouth quivered with unspoken words, but only a single thought continued to pervade my mind as I stood there:

  What the hell was happening to me?

  VI

  Britannia

  Oceanus Britannicus, the English Channel

  December, 42 A.D.

  “Land ahead!”

  It was a simple announcement, but a great cheer rose up from the gathered individuals on deck at the sound of it nonetheless. We’d been at sea far too long, and people were beginning to get antsy. Once we’d turned north after passing Gibraltar, or the Pillars of Hercules as they were referred to today, the temperature had almost immediately started its downward plunge toward freezing, so everyone was very excited about the idea of huddling around a fire again, although my slaves were not quite as excited as everyone else.

  Before we’d set out over a month ago, I’d told them to nominate one of their peers as a representative to approach me with issues. The Romans had balked at the concept, but they weren’t in a position to argue, and when the representative came to me, it was often to remind me of my agreement to free them upon arrival, but no matter how many times I assured him I would uphold my end of the bargain, the man never believed me.

  I guess I couldn’t blame him.

  There was just no way for him to know that their release was one of the things I was most excited for. The act of purchasing them still haunted me, and their eventual release was the only thing that could settle my emotional burden. Little excited me more than the idea of releasing them upon the Isle of Britannia, and seeing their faces as they came to realize they would be able to start a new life in a new world.

  As for my team, they were holding up as well as could be expected.

  No one had really been sure how to react after my episode with Patricia, least of all me. Everyone had just melted off into the night one by one, leaving me alone with Vincent, Santino, Helena, and Brewster, who had stood by me to the very end, having had no idea what to do with herself. She’d been the next one to leave, and then Vincent, who had looked at me in certain understanding as he’d disappeared from sight. He knew I’d had another vision, he just hadn’t known what it was, and I hadn’t had the heart to tell him.

  Helena and Santino had then split apart, Helena to help me up and Santino to move the body of Patricia Martin to where the other bodies were being gathered. Neither had spoken to me, not even Helena as she led me below deck and helped me to bed. I’d slept for twelve hours that night, and it had been years since I’d last had so restful a sleep.

  I’d awoken feeling immensely better, and ready to finish our sea voyage.

  Interactions between team members had been awkward after that, b
ut everyone, including myself, had slowly returned to normal. Martin’s death had been hard on everyone, but since Archer’s team had been thrown together only a month or so before they’d come to Rome, no one had been especially close with her. Her funeral at sea had been sad and heartfelt, but her body had been just one of many cast into the deep that day.

  Today, only Santino still grieved, but nor for Martin, but because he had been forced to give up his pirate routine, and was now banned from ever uttering the sound “argh” or saying the word “scallywag” again. He’d packed up his eye patch and pulled down his Jolly Rodger yesterday, packing them away for what I hoped was forever. Everyone had gotten a kick out of watching him pull the thing down as slowly as he could, hoping to eke out every last bit of the joke as he could.

  I smiled as the memory still amused me, but then grew impatient as a week seemed to have passed since the first announcement of land.

  In that time a thin line on the horizon slowly began to take form, but it would still be another few hours before we reached our destination, although its sight was still comforting. I glanced to my left to inquire into Helena’s thoughts on reaching land again, but I noticed she was no longer where I’d last seen her. I looked further to the left, and saw her leaning over the side of the railing. A smile tugged my lips again and I moved to join her.

  I crept up beside her and crossed my arms atop the railing.

  “Morning sickness?” I asked, looking down at her.

  I heard her retch into the sea and I couldn’t help but cringe and look away.

  “I’m on a boat,” she said, her head still over the railing. “It’s not as simple as ‘morning sickness.’”

  I rubbed her back. “Don’t worry. Only a few more hours and we’ll be walking on solid ground again.”

  “Great,” she said with another heave, prompting me to pull away from her. “Then I can do this wherever I please. Not just over the railing.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You’re not ser…”

  “Oh, Jacob, just shut the hell…”

  Another bout of sickness cut her off.

  Her queasy stomach had only manifested itself a few weeks ago, but I was completely ignorant of how a woman’s body worked during pregnancy, so I didn’t know how normal this was. I’d thought pregnant women experienced this kind of thing early on and generally in the morning, but Helena was five months in and had seemed constantly sick since our encounter with the pirates.

  I really hoped it was just the boat.

  After a few minutes passed without another sound from Helena, I tentatively helped her to her feet. I held her by the arms and rubbed them to help warm her up. She smiled at the gesture, but didn’t seem any less sick.

  “Feel better?” I asked.

  “Ask me again in five months,” she responded, taking a deep breath and an exaggerated gulp. She shook her head. “I didn’t expect to get so sick, especially since I’d avoided it earlier on.”

  “Is it normal to be sick so late?”

  Helena laughed and smacked my arm. “My God, Jacob, you really don’t know a thing about anything, do you? Every woman’s pregnancy is going to be different. Although… my mother told me that difficult pregnancies tend to lead to girls rather than boys. It’s just an old wives’ tale, but… well, I can dream, right?”

  I laughed. “Maybe you should start wishing for a boy as well.”

  She glared at me. “You’d better toughen up yourself, Hunter. If you think it’s bad now, just wait till the end.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, but until then, think you can make it another few hours without losing your lunch?”

  She looked out over the water and gulped again. “No promises.”

  ***

  Five hours later, with Gnaeus at the helm, we were just about ready to make landfall somewhere in southeastern England, interestingly, just east of modern day London. Traveling through the English Channel had been fairly smooth, and seagulls flew hazardously around the deck. One of our legionnaires had speared one in midair, and was already hard at work cleaning it in preparation for dinner. Supplies had been a bit limited these past few days, and the men were getting hungry. Stryker often poked fun at Brewster’s logistical shortcomings, but the woman easily countered his jibes by indicating they’d all have starved to death by now had it not been for her.

  That usually shut him up.

  While no one had gone completely hungry, we were on two meals a day. We’d be fine once we connected with the legion garrison located at Camulodunum, modern day Colchester, where the Romans had established their capital, but our initial landing was bound to be chaotic. With crewmen, legionnaires, time travelers, and slaves all trying to get off the boat and return to land, it was sure to be a mess. At least the legionnaires were well disciplined, as nothing evoked unit cohesion like a hard ass centurion who made Marine Corp drill sergeants look like flower girls at a wedding.

  “Ten minutes!” Gnaeus shouted over the sounds of the sea and excited crewmen.

  I turned my head and saw Helena smiling at me, while Santino, Wang, and Stryker stood just beside her, leaning against the railing as well.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” she said as she looked away. “It’s just that you look pretty happy right now, and it makes me feel the same.”

  “I do?”

  She looked back. “You do. Keep it up.”

  ***

  “No!” I shouted. “This stuff goes here, and that stuff goes there! How hard is this?”

  “Quite difficult,” the random legionnaire reported, “when your friend’s orders contradict your own.”

  He didn’t stick around to clarify his report, and instead went back to unpacking his crate. I blew on my hands to warm them and then stuffed them in my pockets. It was too damn cold out here for this shit. I had over ten thousand legionnaires and half as many auxiliary troops milling about on the beach trying to get organized, yet I couldn’t arrange our own pitiful amount of gear properly. Legionnaires were already hard at work digging trenches and building fortifications for our camp tonight, but here I was struggling to find our simple sleeping equipment.

  I pulled my right hand from its pocket and immediately felt it grow cold as I pressed the push-to-talk button on my radio. “Santino, where the hell do you keep telling these guys to put our stuff?”

  Santino was still onboard the ship, which had run aground and sat idle about forty meters from where I currently stood. I saw a small figure move over to the railing and look down at me.

  “Where you told me,” he said through the radio. “Weapons and gear near the sand dune, supplies and clothing on that clump of grass.”

  “No, I said the opposite!”

  “Well maybe you should be more specific next time.”

  “More specific? How more specific do you need to me to be??”

  There was a pause before he replied. “How more specific can you be?”

  “Just make sure they get it right this time!” I ordered, very nearly losing my cool. “I have more important things to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like running an army!”

  “Oh, is that what you’ve been doing all this time? Could have fool…”

  “Give it a rest, Santino,” Helena’s voice cut in over the coms. “Jacob’s got a lot of things to do.”

  “I’m just trying to train him,” Santino radioed. “Just wait until the little guy gets here. Then he’s going to have lots of things to do.”

  “Well, in that case…” Helena said, but I didn’t hear her through the coms, but from behind me instead. I turned around and saw her climbing the shallow hill, an amused expression on her face. She reached up and removed her ear piece, and didn’t say anything else.

  “In that case what?” Santino asked, but we both ignored him. “What?”

  He continued asking as I took my ear piece out as well.

  “See,” Helena said as she walked up to me. “He’s going to
make a great uncle.”

  “Yeah, he’s exactly the kind of uncle the kid will need,” I said sarcastically. “Leave him alone with Wang and Santino for a few days and they’ll warp his mind.”

  “Aw, you’re being too hard on them. I think they’ll be great uncles.”

  I looked at her in shock. “Who are you and what have you done with Helena?”

  “Jacob, stop, you know they’d never do anything to hurt her.”

  “That’s not exactly what I’m worried about.”

  “I know…” she paused. “But maybe the baby will need personalities like theirs around.”

  “You think we’re going to be bad parents or something?” I asked, not really knowing how to take her comment.

  “Of course not, but…”

  “But what?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  “It’s just that we’ve been dealing with a lot, you and me. We aren’t the same people we were all those years ago when we first met. We’ve changed, and it hasn’t all been for the better.”

  “Helena, come on, we…”

  “No, listen to me, Jacob. I’m not saying we will be bad parents or that we should hand her off to Bordeaux or Vincent to raise her without us, but I think she’ll benefit from their influence. All of them, your sister’s too.”

  I sighed and reached out to grip Helena’s hands. “I suppose you’re right. We’re pretty messed up. I think me more than you…”

  “Well obviously,” she said with a laugh.

  “Very funny.”

  “So are you ready to…”

  “Movement in the woods!”

  I looked beyond Helena to see dozens of legionnaires grab swords and shields as the warning was called out up and down the lines. Helena was already running toward our supply pile to pull her shotgun from a crate. She found Penelope as well and tossed it to me, but she caught me by surprise and I almost dropped her. I glared at Helena for her carelessness but she ignored me. Together we ran toward the front line of legionnaires setting up a perimeter around the makeshift camp.