The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I)

by Edward Crichton

  ***

  Twenty minutes, a few drunken witnesses, and a number of reproachful charlatans later, we made our way to the Curia, Rome’s senate chamber. As we passed through the Forum Romanum, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. I was walking through Rome’s political epicenter, the place where most of its major decisions were made. A thousand years of governance and policy were debated right here. Everything so was saturated in history, I felt drenched just thinking about it. Every debate settled by the men of this city affected the world in ways few truly appreciated. Without these walls and the men who filled them, my world would have been far different.

  I saw the Curia, an unremarkable building, with its plain, brick façade, as well as the Rostra, on the other side of the forum. There was the source of it all.

  “Take a look over there,” I told Helena, nodding off to our right. “That’s the Rostra, a speaker’s platform. Back during the Second Triumvirate, one of the greatest writers and orators of all time, Cicero, had spread some rather nasty propaganda about Marc Antony. It had something to do with how Antony should have been killed along with Julius Caesar on the Ides of March or something like that. Anyway, Antony, being the spoiled little shit that he was, had Cicero killed, and had his head and hands cut off. He then had them placed on those poles to further insult him as if killing the most learned man of his time wasn’t enough. Those poles are actually called rostra, by the way, the Roman word for a ship’s prow, which is where the title for the platform came from.”

  “Always the history lesson with you.”

  “There’s just so much of it here. I’m overwhelmed. How can you be so disinterested?”

  “I’m not ‘disinterested.’ I’m just a bit queasy and I could really use some sleep.”

  “Oh, sorry. Well, perk up. A few more months with me and you’ll be an expert in no time.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “Heads up, people,” Vincent announced. “Looks like we’ve arrived.”

  Making our way to the building, the enormous outer wall blocking the moonlight, we were ordered to stop by one of our guards. He, along with three others, made their way inside, while the rest of us were directed toward a few stone benches just outside the Curia.

  Dragging Helena all this way was tough work. I had been ready to pass out the moment we entered the Forum, and by the time we made it to the benches, Helena was practically moving under her own power, receiving little help from me. I heard her moan in pain when she took a particularly heavy step on her bandaged leg, but we managed to make it to the bench before either one of us collapsed completely.

  I swung her onto the bench, and sat beside her, resting my head on her shoulder. “Next time, you’re carrying me.”

  She pushed my head away. “Yeah right, Lieutenant.”

  Santino plopped down next to me on the ground, while Bordeaux and Wang sat next to him. Vincent took up station by the entrance, waiting to go inside. Bordeaux and Santino stretched out to lie on their backs, probably just as exhausted as I was, while Wang had his head between his knees, still unsettled by the loss of his long time commander. Helena was leaning against a pillar, and seemed out cold. Rejuvenated by my few seconds of respite and with no one to talk to, I rose to my feet and joined Vincent with the remaining guards.

  He noticed my approach. “So what do you think, Hunter?”

  “Well, sir. It’s the opinion of this sailor that we could have picked a more interesting time to find ourselves in. I, for one, would have loved to meet Augustus.”

  He smiled. “I would have preferred Marcus Aurelius or Constantine, but I see where you’re coming from. Still… while there is certainly something exciting about all this, we can’t stay here.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, sir. I’m not sure if I can live without my TV.”

  “Well, Lieutenant, in that case, we definitely need to get out of here.”

  “Right, and remember, whenever we meet Caligula, or whoever we’re here to talk to, we can’t mention anything about who we are and where we came from.”

  “What if he asks?”

  “I guess we can tell him we’re observers from far away, but no specifics. If we tell him that I’m from America, a place beyond the Pillars of Hercules, or whatever… who knows? They might just go there and colonize the place, a millennium before Columbus, or even before the Vikings poked around. Just keep the details vague, and tell him we have no idea how we got here. They seemed to know that blue ball thing would do something, or else they wouldn’t have been ritualizing it, so we’ll just play the hapless bystander card and hope they bite.”

  “All right. We also need to see about digging our way into that cavern to secure our gear, and make sure we can get McDougal out. We need to give him a proper burial.”

  “That might be harder than it sounds. We’ll have to find a way to impress these guys just to get our weapons back, let alone ask for them to dig out a cave.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  I flinched at his last comment, but nodded all the same. I turned back toward the cityscape, ending the conversation. It certainly wouldn’t be a problem to impress these people. All we needed to do was show them a lighter, or give them a demonstration of our weapons, but that would be a bad idea.

  I heard the clicking of Roman style boots against marble, and turned to see one of the Praetorians emerging from the Curia. Caligae were constructed with hobnails imbedded in their soles, offering cleat-like characteristics. Like soccer players who used them for traction during matches, the Romans’ application was the same for the battlefield. The centurion spoke quickly to Vincent, who held up his hands while replying. The Roman looked at me, his eyes cold as ice. He looked back at Vincent, and nodded rapidly, saying, “celere.”

  Basically, “make it quick.”

  Vincent tilted his head in thanks, and made his way toward his wary soldiers.

  “Wake up people, break’s over.”

  Years of training kicked in, and while only Wang stood, everyone else was back on task and paying close attention.

  “It seems these Romans have been gracious enough to grant us an audience with the Caesar, but they will only allow me and one other to see him. Hunter, you’re with me. I may need your ridiculous ability to comprehend this… sci-fi stuff.”

  I smiled. “My mom always told me I watched too much TV.”

  “Your mom’s a smart woman,” Santino said.

  “The rest of you will be taken to a holding area,” Vincent informed. “They know of your injuries, so they’ve agreed to keep you together. Bordeaux, get your ankle taken care of, and I’m sure Strauss can use another look at that leg. Santino, make sure nothing happens to them.”

  Santino nodded, completely serious.

  “All right, Hunter. Let’s get this over with.”