It was getting dark, and I hadn’t had time to grab my NVGs or attach my night vision scope to my rifle, so I couldn’t see much as I peered into the woods. Bordeaux, Wang, and Brewster joined our position and fell beside Helena, their weapons raised as well.
“See anything?” Wang asked.
“Not yet,” I replied.
To my left, a centurion crawled his way toward my position, knelt beside me, and looked off into the tree line. I immediately identified him as Vespasian’s old first file centurion, Fabius.
“Legate,” he said, referring to me, which was still weird since I hadn’t had heard it much while onboard our ship. “Two of my scouts report a small band of men on horseback, maybe forty. They do not appear to be local barbarians, but my men were unable to identify them.”
“Thank you, Fabius,” I replied. I didn’t know him very well yet since we’d been on separate ships during the voyage, but from the little time I’d spent with him, I’d learned to trust his instincts and rely on his advice. “Nothing two legions should be unable to handle, yes?”
“Indeed, Legate. They should be in range shortly.”
“Good. Tell your men to act defensively only. I want to question them first.”
“As you say, Legate.”
I nodded and turned back toward the line patiently, but excitement rarely took its time around here. No more than a minute after I’d concluded my conversation with Fabius did I see a number of horses materialize out of the darkness. The troops laid low, not engaging immediately as Fabius had relayed to them, and I waited until the interlopers were well within missile range before I stood and took a step in their direction.
“Halt,” I called out in Latin, not knowing if they would understand, “you have wandered into the camp of two Roman legions. If you wish to live, I would advise that you explain your presence here.”
“Gods be damned!” The man yelled frightfully in a gruff voice. “Stand down, Hunter!”
I peered into the woods curiously, the voice familiar. “Identify yourself.”
The voice didn’t reply, but horses moved in my direction. Helena tapped my thigh and I glanced down to see her holding a flashlight. I grabbed it, flicked it on, took aim at the man who had spoken, and smiled as recognition set in. There was only one person I knew who could have so fat and ugly a face, but still have an exceptionally fit build and carry himself with such charisma.
“How did you know it was me?” I asked.
“Lower your torch,” Servius Sulpicius Galba said, raising his hand to block the light. When I did, he lowered his hand and stared at me angrily. “I knew, because only you and your ilk bastardize Latin as horribly as you do, and only you, Hunter, could get me into a situation like this…”
***
“I will inform you promptly that I am not happy with my current appointment,” Galba announced as we stood around my desk inside the praetorium that I now got to call my own – which was pretty sweet.
“Aw, and here I thought you missed us,” Santino joked.
“What could I miss?” Galba grunted, turning a stern look in Santino’s direction. “Your mere presence in my world has led to nothing but bloodshed and catastrophe, and dare I mention, has been detrimental to my career as well.”
I rolled my eyes. Ever since we’d met Galba all those years ago, he’d shown nothing but distrust and resentment toward us. Yet, every time we’d sought his help, he came through for us and delivered on his promises – although he did so grudgingly and with excessive complaining.
“Galba,” I said, “I already told you what happened to you in my timeline. Trust me; at the rate you’re going, you’ll end up better off.”
“I do not need your help to achieve high station,” he growled. “Nor do I need your help to be remembered.”
I chuckled but let the man think as he did. He was an extremely proud and stubborn man, and there was no point trying to reason with someone like that. And yet, he was also a good man. He was a proficient and effective general, a loyal soldier, and a man we could count on to help us, even if he never knew why. I was glad he was here, despite his own misgivings about us.
“Just remember who’s in command here, Galba,” I told him bluntly. “Vespasian put me in charge.”
“I remember quite well… Legate,” Galba said with a nod in my direction. He clasped his hands behind his back and tipped what some would consider his chin at me. “I still find it difficult to believe that Vespasian has done what he has done, but even you are incapable of forging his seal, and I must believe these orders to be true. I shouldn’t believe it, but I do. I must be growing stupid as I age.”
“I’m glad you see it that way,” I said with a nod of my own. “Now, what do you say we get down to business?”
“Fine,” he said unhappily. “Allow me to discuss the military situation here in Britain first, and then we can decide on what to do with your little mission.”
I did everything I could to keep the annoyance I felt off my face. Despite his shortcomings, I had to remember that Galba knew what he was doing. He had nothing but Rome’s best interests at heart, interests that included the removal of Agrippina from power. That alone made him a rare ally, and while he’d never respect me, I knew he’d do everything I needed of him.
“Go on then,” I ordered evenly, trying to remember my days as a leader of troops in another life. Patience was more than a virtue when dealing with recalcitrant subordinates, and I’d have to earn Galba’s respect in the same way I had with the SEALS under my command a lifetime ago, the ones who had been combat veterans with many more years of experience than I once had.
“Very good,” Galba said as he took a step closer to the table between us. Upon it was a rudimentary map of southern Britain, revealing only slightly more terrain than what Rome had already conquered. Central England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland were nowhere to be seen.
Galba cleared his throat and delivered his report. “Earlier this year, four legions under command of Vespasian were finally able to subdue the populace of southeastern Britain prior to his redeployment to Germany. A number of tribes were offered the olive branch in peace, and many accepted, but most were put down through military force. The area was subdued, and Camulodunum became Aulus Plautius’ seat of power, Agrippina’s chosen governor in Britain.”
I nodded. In my timeline, Aulus Plautius had been Vespasian’s superior during the Invasion of Britain, not the other way around, except under Claudius instead of Agrippina, and was exactly who the emperor Claudius had named its governor once the invasion had concluded as well.
I was not surprised.
I held up a hand. “Whatever happened to Caratacus and…” I snapped my fingers and turned to Vincent, who stood beside Santino. “Who was the other guy?”
“Togodumnus,” he answered immediately.
“Right, thanks. My Roman Invasion of Britain history is a little rusty.”
Galba glared at me, clearly not amused. “Togodumnus was slain on the battlefield early in the invasion while Caratacus was later captured and sent to Rome for trial. It happened just before Vespasian and I were recalled to the German front. I have heard a rumor that he appealed to Agrippina for pity and forgiveness, regaling her with a magnificent speech to sway her opinion. However, he was unsuccessful, and Agrippina had him crucified.”
My eyebrows arched in surprise and I turned to Vincent, who returned my look with a sad shake of his head. The only reason I even remembered Caratacus’ name over Togodumnus’ was because in the original timeline, Caratacus had given a similar speech, only to Claudius, who spared his life, freed him, and allowed him to live out the remainder of his days in Rome.
Although Caratacus shouldn’t have been captured for another ten years.
Just another interesting parallel derailed because of my meddling.
“So who’s raised up arms against Rome now?” I asked.
Galba shrugged. “It’s unclear at this time. This land is rank with scatter
ed tribes: Iceni, Atrebates, Cantiaci, Catuvellauni, amongst others, and I have not been kept fully up to date on the situation here since my time and attention has been, until recently, rather aptly focused on Germany.”
I nodded absentmindedly as my eyes stared down at the map of Ancient Britain, my hand cupping my chin in thought. The map offered little help or insight, doing little more than act as a distraction as my eyes wandered toward where Wales should have been displayed. If the Isle of Mona was where I needed to go, that’s really all I cared about. After everything we’d discovered in Alexandria, I was no longer interested in Roman politics, military strategy, or even the realignment of history.
I sighed, pushing such thoughts out of my mind, remembering that we still had other responsibilities. Vespasian had sent us here with a purpose, and I wasn’t about to let down the one guy who was risking his life for us. We had to put down these rebellions so that Rome could establish its dominance here, allowing the English people in the coming centuries to develop a self-identity that aimed to emulate the Romans. If we didn’t, there was no doubt in my mind that the Britain I remembered would cease to exist, and with it, even more bits of history.
I looked up with my eyes alone and looked at Galba. “Strategic recommendations?”
“I thought you were in command… Legate.”
“I know when to defer to those with more experience, Galba. This is your area of expertise, not mine.”
“Indeed,” he replied, his voice suggesting he appreciated my confidence in him. “Well, we won’t find any answers on this beach. I suggest we march your legions to Camulodunum and speak with Plautius. He’s a good man and understands warfare well, and will appreciate reinforcements.
“Now, about this other duty you must embark on, please explain, and do not leave anything out that I may later deem important.”
I sighed and took a seat at my desk, holding out a hand to indicate Galba should take a seat before me. Vincent moved to stand at my back while Santino stood off to the side of the tent with his arms crossed, but Galba didn’t move.
“I don’t need to remind you that what I’m about to say is extremely important and very confidential, correct?” I asked Galba.
“If it has to do with your orb, then yes, you need not remind me.”
“Good,” I answered before leaning back in my chair lazily. “Our mission here in Britain has nothing to do with fixing broken history or usurping heads of state. It has nothing to do with you, or the legions outside, or even anything to do with the Roman Empire. Instead, it has everything to do with the orb. It’s a fact finding mission to track down people who may know something about its origin or how we can operate it properly.”
Galba huffed and looked sidelong at Santino, then up at Vincent, before returning his attention back to me. “I do not even know where to begin, Hunter, but it would be a gesture of good faith if you would at least tell me where you were planning to go.”
“The Isle of Mona.”
“I have heard of such a place,” he said, curiosity in his voice, and finally took his seat. A haven for vagabonds, criminals, and… ah… Druids. I understand then. Where is it?”
I leaned in and pointed at an empty part of the crude map. Galba glanced at my pointed finger and raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Impossible!” He nearly shouted. “Even with both of your legions, such a trip would be suicidal. The territory between here and there is hostile, and I would not let you take even a single century of men with you. Your troops are needed with Plautius, defending Camulodunum and then counterattacking more local enemies come spring, not gallivanting across the country!”
I pulled my finger back and placed my hand in my lap. “I understand your concerns, Galba, but as you’ve already reminded me, you’re not in command here. I am. And the Isle of Mona is where I have to go, so that is where I am going, whether you like it or not.”
Galba stood so suddenly that his chair fell backward and crashed into the grass. He raised a finger and pointed it at me accusingly. “You’ve always been too arrogant for your own good, Hunter! I can’t believe I just wasted seconds of my life listening to you lie about deferring to those with better judgment while you sit there now and countermand such logic.”
“Sit down, Galba,” I said impatiently, but he didn’t listen. “I didn’t say I was just going to take the legions with me and leave your precious ass undefended. I agreed with you that we need to reach Camulodunum and regroup with Plautius, where we’ll be able to work out a spring campaign that will accommodate us both. I’m not in a hurry.”
Galba glared at me and didn’t speak, choosing instead to pick up his map and leave. I watched him go, oddly not caring that I’d just driven him up a wall.
Santino watched him go, and hooked a thumb at his retreating backside. “Again with these people not saying goodbye…”
Vincent walked around my desk and picked up the chair Galba had just overturned. “He’s not someone you want to make an enemy of, Jacob. He’s a competent general and a sound strategist, and he knows legions in a way that academics like you and I will never understand. We need his support.”
“You think I don’t know that, Vincent?” I asked. “I do, I just don’t need him thinking that he has any actual sway over my decision making ability.”
“Then why did you just lie to him?” Santino asked to my left. “Wait, did you just lie to him?
I looked up at him, frustration beginning to simmer in the pit of my stomach. “I didn’t lie to him, John. All I want is for him to remember who’s in command here.”
I looked back to Vincent, who after a moment of thought, finished his movement and set the chair to stand on its legs. He gave it a look before straightening his posture and setting his eyes to look just above my head.
“With your permission, Legate, I’ll take me leave.”
I sighed and waved a hand at him. “Vincent, it’s not like that. I’m…”
“With your permission, sir.”
I felt my frustration with Galba turn into anger directed at Vincent, but before I let it, I lowered my hand to the table before flicking it to the side. Taking the hint, Vincent tipped his head, turned on his heels, and left my praetorium.
“I think I’ll go too then,” Santino said, but before I could ask him to stay, he rushed from the tent, leaving me alone.
I sat there in both verbal and mental silence for a few minutes, deciding there was no point in wasting my energy worrying about Santino, Galba, or Vincent. I found myself relaxing into my stiff chair and letting myself fall into a kind of mental daze, a state of mind that seemed to come so easily these days. My mind wandered, never able to lock onto anything specific or relevant, like a night trying to fall asleep when what seemed like every memory, song lyric, movie quote, life experience, or comment I’d ever experienced invaded and raced through my mind and refused to go away. I felt sweat bead on my forehead as I sat in my daze, but it was over in seconds and the distractions were gone.
When I opened my eyes and came out of my stupor, I found that I was no longer sitting behind my desk, but sprawled out on the grassy ground, my hands held out and placed on my footlocker. I looked at it, trying to divine its significance, but all I felt was a coldness that trickled down my spine as I realized my hands were completely numb.
I pulled them away and rolled onto my back so that I could stick them between my armpits, hoping to warm them. As feeling returned seconds later, I stood and made my way toward my bed, which I plopped onto without hesitation. I pulled the sheets up to my neck and tried to sleep – perturbed, spooked, and wishing Helena was there.
As though on command, I felt a slight breeze on my cheek, indicating someone had parted the tent’s entrance flap. I opened my eyes on reflex alone, knowing only one person would dare enter the Legate’s tent unannounced.
Helena crossed the small space between us in three long strides and carefully sat on the bed beside me. I shifted my body so that my head rested i
n her lap and stared at her growing baby bump, letting her brush my hair lightly with her hand. She looked down at me with a sweet expression and smiled.
“Feel all right?” She asked.
“Fine,” I answered, hiding yet another lie. “You?”
“I feel okay,” she answered. “I was just wondering what was keeping you. Your meeting ended an hour ago.”
“It did?” I asked, looking away.
“It did. You must have fallen asleep.”
“Yeah… I must have,” I said to myself, wondering where that time had gone. I tried to think on it, but Helena’s downtrodden expression diverted my attention. “What is it?”
Her mouth flickered and a supportive smile formed there, but it was slow to come. “I’m fine, Jacob, I promise. It’s… it’s just that the rowers are getting impatient about you coming through on your….”
“Christ…” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut, feeling very angry at myself. “I completely forgot! God, I’m stupid! What the fu…”
“Calm down,” Helena soothed, her voice concerned. “It’s all right. Nobody’s judging you for forgetting. You’ve had a lot of things to do today. You’re not exactly a monster.”
“I’m not?”
“Of course not!” She exclaimed. “What’s wrong with you? The sla… rowers aren’t even working, and we’ve even arranged for the men and women to mingle. They’re content, just impatient.”
I felt my frustration drift away at Helena’s words.
“Quick thinking,” I commented, forcing a small smile.
“Well, it was my idea,” she quipped. “Now come on, General. Back to the trenches.”
***
The next morning, my legions were marching toward Camulodunum.
At first light, the legions had begun the task of striking down their makeshift fort and packing all their belongings and gear for deployment. Their alacrity at completing such tasks never ceased to amaze me, and within hours, the entire contingent was lined up in marching order – legionaries, auxilia, cavalry, and time travelers all – although I’d been one of the last to ready myself for the march as I hadn’t slept well the night before.
Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion Page 17
