The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I)

by Edward Crichton

  ***

  The nice thing about sieges was that there really wasn’t much to do.

  After I’d awakened for the second time, this time with Helena deep in sleep beside me, her head resting lovingly on my chest, I was still too weak to move. It left me with plenty of time to think, and one of the things that hit me hard was the fact that Santino and I had failed our mission. Not only had we been tricked by Agrippina into participating in her so- called humanitarian mission, an embarrassing defeat in and of itself, but we also failed to secure the demolition along the walls, which would have ended this mess a lot quicker. Instead, I woke up to find myself in the middle of a siege, a military blockade of an enemy city with the sole purpose of starving the city into fighting or surrendering. Sieges could last for a year, waste precious time, and never left the disgruntled innocent bystanders of the besieged city all that happy should there be a change in leadership. What made me feel worse was the fact I had failed a personal request from Caligula himself. I dreaded the day I had to get my ass out of that tent and face him.

  I didn’t have to wait long. Only a few hours after Helena joined me for her nap, Santino still unconscious on the bed next to me, Caligula had sought me out instead. I hadn’t heard him enter the tent, and he had snuck up on me as quietly as Santino ever could. Caught unaware, my first instinct was to get up, only to find that I still couldn’t move. I felt silly with Helena practically straddling me, but Caligula didn’t question it.

  To my surprise, his expression wasn’t angry, nor did he seem upset. He hadn’t stayed long, but he reassured me that while he was sorry we had failed in both missions, he wasn’t upset. He was just happy we’d be available to fight for him whenever the siege lifted, but also pressured me for information on Claudius and his state of mind. I did my best to relay everything I could. He wasn’t happy to learn of his turn toward insanity, but also didn’t seem overly surprised. If I had to guess, I would assume he and Varus had done some more digging into the origins and meaning behind Remus’ documents, and may have learned what Vincent and I already knew.

  I also tried to apologize to him, as well as tell him about Agrippina’s suspected role in my capture, but he left before I could. I wasn’t sure how to feel as I watched his retreating back, but at least I wouldn’t have to face him later. Suddenly feeling very tired, I fell back asleep.

  Three days later, I finally gained the strength to get up and begin my rehabilitation. Wang had given me a clean bill of health, but also let me in on just how close I had come to death’s door. I had been deprived of food and water for almost two days, had lost multiple pints of blood, and had my head beaten to the point where brain damage had only been a few more knocks on the cranium away. I was lucky to be alive, and as I sat on the table I had spent the past few days on, trying to knead feeling back into my muscles, he had pointed at Santino and practically proclaimed his survival an act of divine intervention. A man any less willing to survive wouldn’t have, and Wang diagnosed that it was probably Santino’s drive to annoy people that had kept him going.

  With him still bed ridden, Helena and I started my rehab exactly the way we had done when she’d recovered from her injuries sustained in 2021. We started with stretches and light calisthenics, then onto walking and jogging, before I was finally able to start running again. Santino took a week to get out of bed, but was soon on his feet and getting stronger as well.

  That was two months ago.

  During that time, Santino and I pushed ourselves hard, and it wasn’t too long until we were back at our peak physical readiness once again. Not that it mattered much. We didn’t see any signs of the siege lifting any time soon.

  Caligula’s initial barrage of artillery had ended quickly after it had started. Its purpose was mainly to let the citizens of Rome know he was out there, but its cover for the rescue operation was still appreciated. As Caligula said before the operation even began, he had no intention of razing Rome to the ground, or destroying more property than he needed to. While the city had burned that night, little real estate was severely damaged, and the fires had quickly died out thanks in large part to the rainy spring months.

  So, the siege would endure, either starving the people of Rome into surrendering, or sallying out in a counter attack.

  Rome was many things, but self-sufficient it was not. It had grain supplies that could feed its citizens, but they wouldn’t last forever. By the time Augustus took power seventy years ago, Rome had just finished fighting its third civil war in the past one hundred years, the last between Augustus himself and Marc Antony. The population of the empire, and the city itself, was at an all-time low. Now, however, more than a half century later, and another forty after Augustus enacted his legislation encouraging Romans to marry and have children, Rome was reaching a population level that it would soon find overwhelming.

  Twenty five years from now, during Nero’s reign, a fire would engulf the city, last nine days, and reduce entire sections of the city to rubble. Nero would later take advantage of the newly cleared land to build his golden house on top of the destroyed territory. During the fire, however, grain supplies were lost, and the very real revelation that Rome’s citizens might starve occurred to many. While Nero had actually done a good job in rationing out the grain, and not dancing with his fiddle during the fire as Suetonius records, had Rome been ready for such a disaster, they may have been able to feed everyone, despite the loss of supplies during the fire.

  As fate would have it, just as during the fire of 64 A.D., one of the few things hit during the initial artillery barrage was the city’s grain supplies. It wasn’t a major blow, but any loss to their food reserves brought the city that much closer to starvation.

  Vincent and I determined that Rome’s grain supplies probably wouldn’t last the eight months Caligula’s experts predicted. They just didn’t have all the facts, let alone hindsight. Even so, we’d be here for a while.

  To complete the siege, our legionnaires had spent days digging trenches and ditches three hundred yards or so away from the walls to encircle the entire city. The trench system was meant to contain the inhabitants as well as provide defense if the legion was attacked. Aiding our effort were two natural phenomena.

  The first lucky break was the fact that Rome hadn’t expanded to its largest point yet. The Aurelian walls hadn’t been built, and its defensive line was still the city’s original Servian Wall. The second blessing was the Tiber River, which worked as a natural barrier to the West. The legion merely took up residence in the Campus Martius, which also lay outside the walls, but between them and the Tiber. Additional troops were also stationed on the opposite side of the river, effectively shutting down the city in the west.

  Unfortunately, as the saying goes, “all roads lead to Rome”, there were many points of entry for us to contain. The via appia, aurelia, cassia, claudia valeria, flaminia, salaria, and other smaller ones were all roads that passed through Rome, and each needed to be blocked. Therefore, each road received two centuries of legionnaires and a varied number of auxilia. Each century constructed a camp, much like the larger version they had wintered in on either side of the road. On the road, they placed wooden beams, attached together in a cross-bracing. These barriers reminded me of the anti-landing craft barricades the Nazis had placed along the shore of Normandy prior to D-day. The remainder of the legion was spread out along the trench network at set intervals in small camps, no bigger than a couple of tennis courts.

  Most of these camps were provided with artillery pieces such as an onager. The word onager literally translated as “ass”, a reference to how it kicked like a donkey when fired. It was basically a catapult, and while it was highly inaccurate, it was still able to throw heavy objects far distances. They scared the hell out of people, but weren’t overly efficient.

  Finally, scattered around the trenches were the legion’s cavalry auxilia, who would be handy if the defenders decide
d to counter attack. Their quick response time would allow them to react to a breakout along the lines anywhere in a matter of minutes.

  Caligula’s command camp was the largest of all. It held us, his sacred band, his two loyal Praetorian cohorts, and the Primigenia’s first cohort. It was located between via cassia and via aurelia, on the west bank of the Tiber, near where the Vatican would one day stand.

  To help strengthen the defenses, Vincent had assigned us to patrol the trenches in our swim pairs occasionally throughout the day. The trenches, miles long, proved good exercise, as well as a warm up for what was to come.

  On the tenth day of the siege, a supply train was intercepted trying to sneak supplies into the city. A ridiculous undertaking considering the blockade, but nonetheless, a caravan of some fifty wagons tried to breach our lines and move into the city. As it happened only two days after I had started limping my way around the camp again, I wasn’t able to participate in the take down, but I did watch it from the ramparts.

  The blockade runners were pressing their horses to full speed as they traveled down the street. Calmly and efficiently, a few dozen legionnaires posted themselves on the paved road, and planted stakes. Unable to dig them into the dirt, they positioned rocks to act as fulcrums, and planted a foot on the blunt side to keep them angled. The Romans managed to erect a barrier of overlapping sharp sticks, three rows deep, while they hunkered down behind their shields.

  Horses were by no means stupid animals, and unlike in the movies where they would ride straight into their impending doom, these horses noticed the obstacles, and quickly veered out of the way. The turn forced them to slow just enough for more legionnaires to board the wagons and eliminate the passengers. The camp had gained additional supplies and horses, and the city of Rome continued to wane.

  On the thirtieth day of the siege, Helena and I were on patrol, approaching one of the small picket stations placed sporadically along the trench system. We arrived to good cheer, as every legionnaire loved the sight of us. Well, at least the sight of Helena, but I tried to imagine they liked me too. Besides, it was always humorous to watch them scramble over one another just to seem more important in the eyes of the only woman they’d seen in months and had grown to adore.

  Completing nearly half of our trip around the trenches, we took a break in the small outpost. In the center were temporary troop quarters and a small dining area, and along the perimeter of the trench was a small rampart that ran around the perimeter of the camp with another ditch system on the other side for added protection. Helena and I climbed one of the walls, and rested our rifles along the railing.

  I’d lost Helena’s P90 after failing to escape the Domus Augusti, and after Caligula came to see me that first day, I had feared that when she woke, she’d forget about our happy reunion and remember that I had lost her gun. Thankfully, Claudius had kept everything he’d confiscated from Santino and me in a room close by. It had been breached and cleared as well, and Helena and Wang had recovered their lost weapons. The only thing missing was Santino’s knife. He was still lamenting its loss.

  But thank God we’d found Helena’s weapon. She might have hurt me.

  She left her DSR-1 back in our tent, preferring the lighter weapon for our long patrols, so she pulled out a small monocular, and scouted the walls of Rome, looking for any sign or disturbance while I sighted through my scope. I frowned when I saw a small gate opening in the walls, and a small contingent of men rushing out in our direction, maybe four hundred or so in total. Some rode horses, but most were running on foot, and none of them wore armor, so I assumed they were civilians.

  I flicked my safety off, and Helena and I opened fire on the oncoming men. They were close enough that I could have picked them off the walls had I the chance, but the defenders had learned that lesson early in the siege when Helena’s kill count reached four tribunes and ten centurions, all from the city’s Praetorian cohorts.

  Just as we had done defending Caligula’s home, Helena fired single and precise shots, even with her smaller gun, while I fired in controlled bursts. The enemy had to cross around three hundred yards of open ground before they reached the outer ditch, and we made them pay for it. We must have shot more than a quarter of their strength before they finally reached our outpost. Immediately, Helena and I abandoned the ramparts to let the more experienced legionnaires handle the initial onslaught. We lobbed a few grenades into the intruders’ dense ranks just for good measure before jumping off the walls and into our trenches. When the grenades went off, twenty legionnaires cast their pila into the enemy ranks, impaling only a handful here and there before the enemy got their acts together and started scaling our wall.

  Initially, the men on the rampart held them off easily. It was only a matter of knocking over their ladders, and sending them falling the short distance to the ground, but when there were too many to handle, the ramparts were abandoned, and men started spilling into the trenches.

  The two centuries of legionnaires, plus Helena and I, were equally matched in numbers with our enemy by now, but we were all professional soldiers, whereas they were glorified peasants. Organized, we stood shield to shield, waiting for them to waste themselves attacking us.

  Wave after wave came at us, slashing, cutting, and stabbing, only to be repelled. These men were amateurs, men with no military training, nothing but a purpose driving their attacks, whatever that purpose may be.

  By the time we cut the enemy’s number in half again, I lost Helena somewhere in the confusion, and I could only pray that she was all right. Cut off from my swim buddy, I found myself in the middle of a line of three legionnaires. So far I had only been involved in small skirmishes and I’d seen many men cut down, but had yet to bloody my sword.

  With only seven enemy combatants remaining, they had no time for heroics. Hitting our line, I blocked and stabbed, and blocked even more, before I saw a clear opening for my first kill. An enemy was engaged with the legionnaire to my right, and had over extended himself, falling onto his shield. I saw the enemy’s exposed flank, and drove my sword up through the man’s armpit, driving it into his neck. Freeing my sword, a stream of blood spewed all over my clothes and face. No time to react, I saw one of the last men swinging his sword with both hands downwards, in an attempt to split me in two.

  I gave him no such chance. I caught the slice on my shield, blocking and sweeping his sword away, giving me an open shot at his entire front side. I looked right in his eyes and he looked back, immediately realizing his mistake. Gazes still locked, I thrust my sword right through the man’s chest. I felt the blade slip through his ribs, and out his back. I’d hit him right in his heart, and he fell dead almost immediately, blood spurting from the wound and his mouth.

  The last of the enemy slain, the surviving legionnaires bellowed a triumphant cry. They inspected the bodies, putting down any poor soul still left alive. It was a barbaric custom, but this was war, and definitely not one with any modern rules. Sanitation, food, medical supplies, guards – each of these things were at risk by harboring prisoners, and it would only hinder the siege. As immoral as it may have seemed, it was the only practical answer.

  Only a few dozen of our men had died, while another twenty had sustained injuries. Our men would receive help, of course, and I did what I could with the limited medical kit I had on me. Tending to a legionnaire cut along his bicep, I applied a few butterfly bandages to the wound after wiping it with some anti-bacterial cream. Applying the last of the bandages, I was prematurely pulled away from the man by Helena, who grabbed my head and kissed me with a passion I hadn’t experienced from her in days, well... hours really. My reunion with her incited most of the men watching to boo and throw dirt at us. The legionnaires had grown accustomed to seeing us together back in the winter camp, but now that we were clearly together, they let their humorous disapproval show whenever they could.

  Poor jealous bastards.

  That w
as the first of our mini engagements, and the only one I had participated in. Everyone else in the squad had received a small taste for sword combat during the siege as well, and each came away admitting they hated it, but happy they got some experience. These engagements had me worried though. If Claudius could afford to waste troops in these completely ineffective counter attacks, how many men did he really have? The enemy was losing far more than we were, and it led me to wonder if Claudius had recruited a larger army than Galba had estimated.

  As for Nero and Agrippina, I had no idea where they were, and frankly, couldn’t care less. A part of me wished the pair died in the initial artillery strike, but that seemed unfair. After all, young Nero was still technically innocent, and something as beautiful, albeit evilly beautiful, as Agrippina shouldn’t be wasted.

  On the thirty-seventh day of the siege, I awoke around four in the morning, and was not feeling well. I’d slept all right, but it must have been that damn beef patty MRE I had again the previous evening that woke me.

  I’ve sworn off the stuff since.

  With my upset stomach groaning, I got up slowly so I didn’t disturb Helena. She was still fast asleep, the remnants of her clothing strewn about the tent after I’d aggressively removed them earlier. She looked perfect in the dim light from a dying glow stick that softly illuminated her body, so I retrieved my rifle as quietly as I could and left to wander through the trenches. It was still dark, and there were only a few sentries posted and awake. As I passed by them, they offered me friendly, but tired greetings, mostly paying me little attention. I continued on my morning walk until I found a nice spot to watch the sun rise in the East. Since high school, I had made it a point to just sit and watch the sun rise whenever I could. My time in the military, and in the Roman army, granted me many opportunities to be awake during the time, but never any to just sit and enjoy.

  It had been a beautiful dawn, followed by an even more stunning sunrise. I didn’t move until the entirety of the sun had cleared the horizon, and was floating just a few feet above the tree line, far in the distance. I could never figure out why I felt better after watching the daily event, I just knew that I did. It made me feel whole. I threw the sun a salute and continued on my trek.

  Along the way, I stopped at each fort and used my rifle’s scope to check out the walls in case trouble was abrewing. At the last fort before my camp, I set my sights just above a gate’s entrance, and saw the last thing I thought I’d see. Agrippina was standing there, and oddly, she seemed to be looking right at me. There was no way she could have recognized me from that distance , but I could have sworn she’d smiled at me.

  I lowered my rifle, rubbed my eyes with my hands and then the lenses of my scope with a rag. Raising my rifle again, I looked back at where I thought I had seen her only ten seconds earlier, but found nothing. Just an empty wall. I shuddered, finally realizing the odd contrasting similarities between Agrippina’s smile, and Helena’s eyes. Not a person in the world could either unnerve me or confuse me like those two women could. I went back to my tent thoroughly creeped out and wrapped myself around Helena. In seconds, I was back asleep with another hour to burn.

  By the time the fiftieth day of the siege rolled around, I’d just about given up any thoughts of it lifting. Besides the few moments of excitement and action, there wasn’t much to do. I spent my time running, practicing swordsmanship, cleaning and preparing my gear, spending some quality time with my reconciled lady friend, and working on my tan. I was a solid bronze, practically Helena standards, by the time Caligula called for a meeting of his senior staff. He told Vincent to bring the rest of us along.

  All the usual suspects were present and accounted for, so Caligula began promptly.

  “I am sure you are all aware of how the siege is progressing, so I’ll get to the point.” He paused, placed his fists on the table and leaned heavily on them. “We’ve just received reports indicating massive unrest in the city. Many of its citizens are calling for an end to the siege and demanding Claudius do something about it.

  “Seven months ago, news of my apparent death didn’t go over well with the public, and while Claudius’ ascension was taken in stride, it was not overwhelming popular. Therefore, our arrival, and my apparent rise from the dead, has made the people question what actually happened the night we left. Thanks in part to Vincent and his people, many felt the gods themselves had fought against my Praetorians. Now, however, they are not so sure.

  “This works in our favor. Claudius now has no choice but to face us in open combat, or risk the city rising against him. I do not care how unstable he may be, he is not stupid. He’ll come out and face us.”

  He looked at each of us present and met each of our gazes. Most wore stone faced expressions, but some, mostly those of us who had never seen a military engagement of this kind, looked worried. He must have noticed our apprehension.

  “Vincent. What can I expect from you and your people?”

  Vincent shifted his feet, and looked at each of his operators. I gave him a reassuring nod.

  “We’ll fight for you, Caesar,” he replied, confidently.

  “Good.”

  “I think what the emperor meant is how can you help us?” Galba asked, still looking for a reason to keep us around.

  “Three things,” Vincent said, ignoring Galba. “First, we can lay a field of explosives on the battlefield the night before the engagement along a path where we expect our enemy to be. They will trigger when passed by. It should cause significant damage to small portions of the army.”

  “Wouldn’t that require them to attack us? As it is we who are besieging them, it would seem that the orders of combat would be reversed,” Galba said, continuing his skepticism and sarcasm.

  “Not necessarily, sir. We can sneak close enough to the walls to lay them in the area the enemy will use to form their battle lines. We can hit them any time we want.”

  I groaned quietly. That would mean we, probably Helena and I, would have to spend hours crawling under the cover of ghilli suits just to get close enough to lay out a field of demo. It wouldn’t be fun, but it would definitely work.

  C-4 was very good at blowing up walls and bringing down buildings, but its blast radius and direction was very concentrated, so laying it on the ground to blow at the enemy’s feet wouldn’t work. We did have a few claymores left, provided in our supplies but what would really help were the few dozen antipersonnel mines we discovered. Nearly invisible to those not directly looking for them, the mines were equipped with laser trip wires. Once triggered, the mine would launch a device a few feet in the air, and explode outwards as it spun, tearing through skin and bone in a twenty yard radius. The few dozen of these we had would be very helpful, indeed.

  “Second, we can provide rifle fire to help weed out the enemy at a much farther range than your pila volleys. Since we are within our range already, our sustained fire might force their hand, and cause them to charge us. Once both sides are within pila range, no matter who charges who, we will fall back through your lines and fire when targets of opportunity display themselves only.”

  “And the third?” Galba asked insistently.

  Vincent looked around the room, maybe deciding if he wanted to continue or not. “Before the battle even begins, should Claudius be present on the battlefield, we, and by ‘we,’ I mean she,” he said, pausing for emphasis as he pointed at Helena, “can eliminate him before he takes two steps onto the field.”

  Galba opened his mouth to speak, but just as quickly shut it. He had seen her shoot an apple off of a wall from a few hundred yards away, and must have known she could do what Vincent was offering. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, and since she was a better shot than even I was, Helena, not her rifle, was currently the single most effective weapon on the entire planet.

  Caligula appeared more thoughtful than his general, as he too realized Helena could perhaps end the war before it eve
n began. Still leaning on his fists, he looked up and for maybe the first time since both had known each other, looked her square in the eye, and spoke to her as a commander would any of his soldiers.

  “Are you willing to do this?”

  Helena looked at Vincent, who nodded, then at me. All I could do was offer a weak shrug. It wasn’t my place to decide for her. She looked down at her feet and thought it over before meeting Caligula’s face.

  “I am,” she answered, mostly confident.

  Caligula looked at Galba, whose face was unreadable. I knew what he was thinking, and it couldn’t have been an easy decision. Just because you had the power to end a life on a whim, doesn’t mean you should do so. Besides, enemy or not, crazy or not, Claudius was still Caligula’s uncle, and I’m sure that fact had to weigh heavily on his mind. He turned his back on his staff, and rested his chin on an upraised fist.

  Five minutes passed and he still hadn’t made a decision.

  “Caesar?” Galba queried tentatively.

  Caligula’s head dropped, but he soon turned back to face us.

  “No,” he said quietly. “No. Thank you, but I cannot condone that. He is my uncle, and both sides are aware of why they are fighting. Assassinating him at the onset of battle would do little to dissuade the troops. Whoever has more men standing at the end of the day will prevail, and will be able to maintain their hold on power through their own loyal troops. The less dissenters the better. This must be decided on the battlefield.”

  Bravo, Caligula. I had to imagine emperors both before, and definitely after, would have jumped at the opportunity to wield the kind of power Helena possessed. Sure, he’d used her before for the same exact reason, but it seemed as though the past few months had matured the man, his arrogant personality abandoned. If we could defeat Claudius, I saw a bright future for Rome.

  As for Helena, she was obviously relieved. She’d gotten a taste of both combat and assassination lately, and had a definite knack for both, but I knew it didn’t come easy for her. I knew she didn’t like it. It had been the topic of many a late night conversation. I wondered if she would have cut it as a sniper back home. She had no choice here. Here it was kill or be killed, but it wasn’t so black and white back home. She wasn’t a bloodthirsty killer, and I had a renewed regret for bringing us here and causing all this shit.

  “So, when the day comes,” Caligula continued, “I expect your people to be at my side. They will have a place of honor, right beside me.”

  “It is indeed an honor, Caesar,” Vincent answered, “but I believe we would be put to better use in a more active part of the field.”

  “Do not worry, I do not plan to loiter in the rear and stay safe in this battle. The troops will need their emperor guiding them, as much as their eagle. I leave it to you to keep me safe. Believe me when I say, I wouldn’t be so quick to do battle myself if you were not there.”

  “We will do our best. Thank you, Caesar.”

  Caligula smiled, and looked over at his Praetorian primus pilus. “Don’t look so glum, Quintilius. I would not be so eager to fight if you and your men weren’t there as well.”

  Quintilius returned the smile, his dignity and pride restored.

  “Let us talk strategy then,” he said.

  Finding his favorite map of the walled city, he started to lay out his preliminary battle plans. Before he could make any headway, a commotion from outside the tent forced us to stop.

  “What now?” Santino asked.

  I turned to Helena. “If it’s Agrippina, just shoot her this time.”

  She flashed a toothy smile, but we breathed a collective sigh of relief when a simple messenger entered the tent instead, handing Caligula a sealed letter. The emperor thanked the man and started reading. I saw his eyes grow slightly before he crumpled up the letter and burned it with a candle.

  “General, alert the troops,” he ordered Galba. “Tomorrow we do battle. It seems Claudius has decided to come out and meet us in open combat. We’ll continue this when you return.”

  Galba smiled, his expression itching for a fight. “With pleasure, Caesar.”