***
As we journeyed south toward Rome later the next day, Santino and I rode atop black Spanish stallions, a favorite amongst Rome’s leading citizens. As a kid, my sister had taken horseback riding lessons for years and I would watch when it was time to pick her up. Every once in a while she would teach me a few pointers when she had time, so I had come to ancient Rome as a somewhat experienced equestrian. Santino, however, had a rougher time of it.
As he had learned how to ride over the winter, I’d had a hard time imagining the scrappy Italian from one of the seediest areas of New York ever riding a horse, and he proved my point by doing so like a drunken sailor. We had all gotten a good laugh out of it, and Helena, easily the most graceful of us all on a horse, took great pleasure in watching him fall time and time again.
As for Helena, I tried not to think about her, but my thoughts often drifted toward our last night together. When I tried to reconcile with her before I left, the only response I’d gotten was a sad and scared look from eyes that were bloodshot and puffy. She looked as though she hadn’t slept all night, and had spent most of it crying. I couldn’t stop thinking about that morning and how she looked. I didn’t understand the tears at first, but I now realize she had to have been crying for me. Crying that I had become some kind of monster or that she somehow knew I was going to die in a place where she couldn’t help me.
The thoughts plagued me, but at least I had Santino for company. We’d made good time on our first day, and I calculated we’d be in Rome within a few days. I had spent that time worried Agrippina might try something on me again, but I was happy to discover she had turned her attention elsewhere.
During our first night, she and Santino chatted quietly with one another as we sat in our rented rooms. People would be surprised to learn that Roman highways functioned much like modern day interstates, complete with Holiday Inn-type establishments dotted sporadically along the roadway, just without the turn down service and free continental breakfast. Our rooms were acceptable, and while the three of us were hanging out in Agrippina’s room currently, we’d booked a second one for the boys. I sat aloof from them both, near the window, and cringed every time I heard giggles emanate from the treacherous woman as they joked and laughed freely. I was surprised that when I ordered lights out, Santino hadn’t stayed the night. After we packed up the next morning, and continued our journey, I asked him why he hadn’t.
“Big boobs, a firm ass, perfect skin, and a beautiful smile aren’t everything I look for in a woman, you know,” he answered.
I snorted. “Bullshit. What’s the deal? She seemed willing and able, and if not willing, at least she wouldn’t have said no.” I paused. “Even if she is evil…”
“I know.” He sighed. “Guess I’m getting soft in my old age. I just don’t want to risk anything by jumping into bed with her. She seems like trouble.”
“Oh, she is my friend, she is,” I told him, an image of Agrippina’s offer that involved Helena popping into my mind, “but I suspect it would be worth it.”
“What are you two talking about?” Agrippina interrupted from behind us.
I looked back at her, noticing she still looked beautiful, but conservatively dressed for once. “Nothing, ma’am, just talking strategy.”
She made a pouty sound and looked off into the distance. Maybe I was giving her too much credit, and she really was just some dopy teenager at heart.
I turned back to Santino and jabbed a finger toward his face. “Don’t let your emotions get in the way of letting you do what you want. Doing so leads to all kinds of internal struggles and moral dilemmas. It can get ugly.” I cocked my head, wondering where such hypocritical insight came from.
Santino glanced down at his horse’s mane and shook his head with a big grin on his face. “You’re not seriously lecturing me, are you? I mean, you do know who you’re talking to, right? It’s me.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I know. I’m just saying.”
He laughed again. “Well, you’re just full of helpful information then, aren’t you? Maybe you should have been a guidance counselor or something.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right.”
My poor sleeping habits continued that night, but not because of my own musings. Our new hotel was no cleaner than the last, but poor sanitation didn’t stop Santino from acting on my helpful advice. Agrippina offered us some wine, which I indulged in lightly, but both of them had more than enough. As a result, Santino stayed behind while I went back to my lonely, cold room, and had to try and sleep through hours of sexual outbursts on more occasions than I cared to remember. They all started to blur together after the first one and gave me nightmares. They were fueled by weird outbursts from Santino, interestingly arousing cries of pleasure from Agrippina, and the insistent pounding of someone repeatedly smacking the wall that separated our two rooms.
As soon as the first wisps of dawn struck my face, I hauled myself out of bed as quickly as I could, nearly delirious from exhaustion. With a quick knock to wake up my travel companions, I rushed outside to ready my horse. As I pulled a strap to tighten my gear along his flank, a sudden shriek from the hotel drew my attention in its direction before I realized how horribly familiar the sound was. I sighed, and looked at a few other early risers who were outside and heard the noise as well. They laughed, knowing full well what was happening, and when Santino came waltzing out twenty minutes later with a radiant Agrippina on his arm, they whooped and hollered at him. He gripped his hands together and shook them alongside both sides of his head in a celebratory gesture in response. Whether the ne’er-do-wells outside understood what he was doing or not didn’t matter. They loved it.
I looked over at him. “Quite the show of stamina last night you bastard.”
He returned the look. “Yeah, it’s my Italian blood.”
“How appropriate. Feel any better?”
“Definitely, but I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. You were right. She’s a freak.”
I had to laugh and roll my eyes at the same time before mounting my horse and giving him a quick kick. “Don’t worry. She has two sisters. Maybe one of them will be more to your liking.”
He smiled at the idea, while I paused to let him think about it.
“However,” I continued. “I hope you realize you may have just sired the next emperor of Rome.”
“Yeah, I...” He paused after mounting his own horse. “Wait, what?”
“Seriously,” I confirmed. “If something happens to Nero, and Agrippina has a child from your endless fornicating last night, he may become a Caesar. We can name him Julius Agrippa Augustus Germanicus Santino Caesar. I like that. Has a ring to it.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, actually, I’m not. Plus, you may have just created your own great times a thousand grandfather since you’ve had relations with a woman from a time period you don’t belong in.”
“Wait. That can’t really happen.” He thought about it. “Can it?”
I let him stew for a few seconds before I started laughing. “No, from what I think I know, it can’t. Just kidding.”
“Oh, good,” he said, looking laughably relieved.
The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I) Page 57
