Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome

by Edward Crichton

  Noon was quickly approaching, exactly when the festivities were planned to begin. The wedding wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow, but even the rehearsal was drawing a crowd. A royal wedding was one thing, but the royal wedding of the empress to not only a god, but a god who’d returned from the underworld to lead the city into the future, who also happened to be one of the legendary founders of the city, was another thing entirely.

  I glanced to my right, finding Helena seated beside me in a cross legged position, her rifle balanced across her body, its butt stock fixed firmly against her shoulder. Her back was to me as I laid prone beside her, but I could still see the side profile of her lovely face, and I allowed myself the luxury of just staring at her. I drank in the details, her sharp nose and small chin, thin eyebrows that sat above eyes set firmly behind her scope as she stared through it diligently. She’d grown very tan this summer, although I couldn’t help but imagine her sitting out in the hot sun, day after day, alone, hoping to find warmth in it since she hadn’t been able to find it in me.

  Her eye peeked at me from behind her scope, and she flinched as she realized my attention was on her. She recovered quickly and offered me a half smile as she looked through her scope again.

  “How do you feel?” She asked.

  I took in a breath. “Ready, I think. You?”

  She looked at me again. “I’m just glad you’re here, Jacob.”

  “Me too. Even if this is the end.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” she scolded. “Everything will go exactly as planned. And I’ll never leave you.”

  I frowned. “You’re not worried about me leaving you?”

  She smiled slyly at me. “I won’t let that happen. Never again.”

  I smiled lightly for her benefit.

  I’d been doing that a lot since yesterday.

  With a deep breath, I yanked out my radio from a pocket and looped its earpiece into my ear. Setting the radio to its push-to-talk setting, I started the process of wrangling the troops.

  “Eagle Eye, Sniper-1,” I radioed. “Sitrep.”

  “In position, Sniper-1,” Gunnery Sergeant Alex Cuyler reported. “Hide secure, eyes on AO, nothing of interest.”

  “Copy that, Eagle Eye. Sniper-1 out.”

  Cuyler was about eight hundred meters west of the area of operation, the AO designated as the wedding venue structure built about where the Colosseum stood in my timeline. Cuyler had found a nice little hide on the roof of a tall building on the Capitoline Hill. He’d spent the majority of the night maneuvering into position, and had been laying there as quiet as a mouse since 0500 this morning.

  Helena and I, due north of the AO on the southern tip of the Viminal Hill, had been lucky enough to find an abandoned home to set up in. Overlooking the Subura, one of Rome’s most eccentric and notorious residential districts, we had a clear sightline over hundreds of low rising buildings toward the AO, which, itself, was a tall structure that sat slightly above every other structure around it.

  One thing was for sure, while Agrippina’s Praetorians were doing a bang up job securing the immediate area and controlling foot traffic in and out of the venue, they hadn’t a clue how to set up anti-sniper security. These guys clearly weren’t the Secret Service, and thank God for that. Helena and Cuyler would have free reign to ply their trade as easily as if they’d been duck hunting. Their job was to contain our quarry and sow confusion until the last stage of our plan was ready.

  I, however, was only spotting for Helena, as all of my rifles had been destroyed.

  I pressed the radio’s PTT button again. “Ground Team-Actual, Sniper-1. Report.”

  “Ground Team-Actual here,” Santino’s hushed voice replied. “We’re in the thick of it. Ready to receive and deliver Package Alpha.”

  “Copy, Ground Team-Actual,” I transmitted. “Try not to do anything stupid. Sniper-1, out.”

  My last bit of advice wasn’t necessarily meant for Santino alone, and was certainly good advice considering the team consisted of every one of our goofballs – although one no longer seemed interested in shenanigans anymore. Santino was in charge of Wang, Stryker, and Titus, and the only silver lining concerning that group was that Marcus wasn’t also with them. Their job was to mingle with the crowd during the rehearsal until Romulus showed up and to make sure he knew where he was going. The young god was bound to be confused by all this, and although we were certain he wouldn’t have a problem going toe to toe and mano e mano with his brother, we wanted to make sure he had all the help he could get.

  I pushed the PTT button one last time. “Extraction-Actual, Sniper-1. Status.”

  “Ready,” Bordeaux’s silky-French voice came through loud and clear. He was paired with Brewster for this operation. “HQ secure, gear relocated to the farmhouse, ready to bug out. Over.”

  I nodded. “Copy that, Extraction-Actual. Hold down the fort. Sniper-1, out.”

  I heard the quick, staccato double click of static, and I knew he was secure. I took in another deep breath and turned back to Helena, who was already looking at me.

  “Everything’s fine, Jacob,” she assured. “Everyone knows their jobs and knows what’s at stake. Nobody’s going to screw this up.”

  I nodded, taking some comfort in her words, but also recognizing the underlying subtext as well. Everything was at stake here. We’d never get a chance like this again, and if we blew this operation completely, we’d never be as prepared as we are now. Supplies were already thin, but if we ended up shooting our way out of here, we were more than likely to run through them completely. Gear like claymores, mines, grenades, and demolition charges were mostly long gone. Bordeaux was likely to have a little C-4 literally shoved up his sleeve for emergencies, and I think Santino had a flashbang or two, but that was about it. More technical equipment like flashlights, NVGs, laser sights, and infrared optics were either on their last legs or completely useless. Santino’s drone never recovered from the harsh winter spent in Britain, and many of our batteries, which we’d been able to recharge with solar power for years, had been completely drained in that environment as well. They’d never recharge again. Ammo was also tight, but we’d hopefully have enough for today’s operation, even if it turned into our Alamo – our last stand. Weapons were in mostly working order, but my spare M-4 was trashed, as was my SR-25 sniper rifle, and poor Penelope was probably still in a million pieces back in Britain, a loss I still couldn’t believe when I thought of it… but it was a loss that paled in comparison to the loss of Vincent.

  Or of my son.

  I’d nearly lost it completely last night when Helena had told me about how they’d buried him next to Vincent in an empty part of the world, devoid of any real kind of society or civilization. But it had offered something of closure, as well. I still blamed myself for killing Vincent, but Merlin had at least helped alleviate some of the blame for my son. He had died because birthing a child was never full proof. As joyous an occasion as it was supposed to be, often times it ended in misery. Even back home in the year 2021, despite all its vaunted science and precious medical breakthroughs, it happened all too often – far too often. But in the age when Rome was ruled by members of the Julio-Claudian family, unfortunate tragedies happened even more regularly. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever fully recover from the stillbirth of my son, but I’d honor his memory by doing everything I could to right the wrongs of my past, and I would start by returning Helena, his mother, home.

  Even if it was at the expense of his father’s life.

  “I guess you’re right.” I told Helena, clearing my throat and looking through my binoculars again, panning them to the right in a southwesterly direction. The Capitoline Hill came into focus, and on its slope, I saw the Tullianum, a sort of prison used by the Romans that didn’t necessarily mimic the way such institutions operated back home. The prison was only needed to hold those awaiting trial… or to lock people away in secret for other nefarious means.

  Where better to house a superman, a god
among men?

  I hope Artie knew what she was doing…

  ***

  What was I thinking?

  What am I doing?

  Creeping through a moldy, smelly, disgusting Roman prison facility, that’s what I’m doing.

  Why, exactly? Because I wanted to help? Wanted to share in the joys of another clandestine, special ops mission like the rest of them? Wanted the thrill of sneaking around, avoiding death or dismemberment at every turn?

  Wanted to feel useful?

  Well, at least one of those reasons was true, but now I really regretted the way I’d stupidly opened my mouth yesterday. Jacob and Tim had just outlined their plan, their cockamamie, ridiculously simple, overtly stupid, plan, and Jacob had just finished assigning roles for everyone to play: snipers, assaulters, extractors, the rescue unit, etc… But my name hadn’t come up, and that had made me angry.

  Plain and simple.

  “And what about me?” I’d demanded. “You expect me just to sit by and do nothing while the rest of you risk your lives?”

  Jacob had stared at me like a man standing on the edge of a precipice, his eyes full of sadness and despair with a hint of anger as well. He hadn’t looked insane or possessed, as I often expected him to look after his time with the orb, but defeated and broken. I didn’t want to think he was truly suicidal but his role in the mission didn’t offer much to dissuade that idea, and the desperation in his eyes then had only exacerbated that fear.

  But then he’d spoken with a soft voice, not patronizingly so, but reassuringly. “Artie, I can’t let anything happen to you. If something does happen to me but we still somehow retain possession of the blue and red orbs, you’re the only one who can send everyone home. You’re the only one here who’s not completely expendable.”

  “Bullshit,” I’d said bluntly, causing a few chuckles from the others. “I’m just as expendable as you are. Don’t put my life up on a pedestal just because you’re so willing to throw your own away. I’m not going to let you do that. Put me on the mission. Give me something to do. Maybe if you’re worried I won’t come back either, it’ll give you some incentive not to get yourself killed.”

  Jacob had leaned away, crossed his arms, and frowned, but hadn’t said anything.

  I think a part of him knew I was right, even if another part didn’t want to accept it because he didn’t care. He wasn’t completely broken, but he was close. It was so easy to see. Merlin, Remus, the orb, Agrippina, and a life in Ancient Rome had all done their parts to chip away at the man Jacob used to be, leaving in their wake a cracked, perforated, nearly defeated man.

  But while I could understand it, I wouldn’t accept it.

  “So,” I’d pressed, “give me something to do.”

  Which is when Tim had stepped in.

  “There is something she can do, Jacob. It is of minimal risk but utmost importance.”

  “What?” Jacob and I had asked together.

  “You assigned Gaius and Marcus to retrieve Romulus, but I do not believe that to be our best approach. He will be heavily confused when found. Remus has had me drug him to keep him subdued unless he needs his brother cognizant to use the orbs. Gaius and Marcus are Praetorians, and he may distrust them. May fight them. Artie, however, is someone he may trust.”

  “Why?” Jacob had asked, his own voice full of suspicion.

  “Because she can take a blue orb with her and prove that she’s there to help him.”

  Jacob’s head had flung side to side vigorously at that. “Not happening. She’s not going near one of those things, not without the red orb as well.”

  “Jacob…” I’d pleaded.

  “No! I won’t let what happened to me, happen to you. Of all the things I can’t let happen, that’s the one that would outright kill me.”

  “Jacob, it’ll be all right,” I’d said softly, placing a hand on his arm but nearly jerking it away when I’d felt how boney it was. But I hadn’t. “I’ll be in contact with the orb for only a few hours. I can take that kind of exposure. It takes days of constant contact before it even starts to draw you in let alone manipulate you. I’ll be fine. Let me do this.”

  Jacob hadn’t said anything for quite a while then, his eyes narrowed and fixated on the ground, countless thoughts, worries, and scenarios probably swirling through his mind. He’d always thought way too much about things, even as a kid, but I supposed that was probably a good thing in most instances. He didn’t always make the right choices, but at least they came from a good place.

  Another few seconds had passed, but then Archer had spoken up, interrupting the peace. “I’ll go with her, Jacob. I’ll keep an eye on the orb and make sure she’s safe.”

  It seemed appropriate. Archer had been the orbs’ caretaker for the better part of a year now, and despite what he’d done to Jacob and even with our rocky relationship before that, he’d made strides in recent months to atone for his mistakes. Besides, he was tough and could protect me at least as well as any of the others.

  Jacob had looked at his old friend turned nemesis, turned savior, turned near-executioner, turned whatever he was now, and stared at him with heavy eyes. The two gazed at each other for a while, Archer doing his best to remain supportive and confident, although it was clear there were deep emotions brewing inside of him as well. Seeing Jacob in the state he was in, knowing it had been caused by his own hand, must have hurt.

  Good.

  Finally, after what had seemed like forever, Jacob had nodded, I’d had my assignment, and further details were discussed before we’d all turned in for the night. The only other part of the mission everyone was still uncertain of was how we were actually going to obtain the orbs for Jacob to use, but Tim had assured us that they’d be present at the rehearsal and we’d be able to take them there. Numerous individuals had pressed him for more information, but little more was forthcoming, as was clearly becoming the norm with the eccentric, asinine old man.

  And now I was here, in the belly of a prison ancient by even the standards of today. Jacob had gone on yesterday for a few minutes – brief for him – about how Roman’s didn’t really believe in long term incarceration, preferring slavery, corporal punishment, and execution as far more effective means of punishment. The prison was only needed to temporarily hold those accused of a crime.

  However, for a prison that supposedly didn’t hold people for long, the accommodations certainly suggested otherwise. Not two minutes ago, I could have sworn that we’d passed by a human skeleton hung up by his hands in a barred cell, and I’d seen at least four juicy spiders the size of my hand strung up on webs that infested the area. I’d nearly run headlong into one, and another even managed to crawl its way onto Archer’s shoulder, only to be brushed off by a helpful Gaius.

  But, at least, those spiders seemed the sole inhabitants of these long forgotten, rarely used catacombs. Gaius and Marcus had led Archer and me deep into the prison system, informing us that we would journey into sections as old as the structure itself, which dated back hundreds of years. Gaius had told us of how very few individuals were brought down here, only the ones who’d committed particularly heinous deeds or, at least, had been accused of such deeds by the wrong person, left to rot and starve and die. He’d said it was the perfect location to “lose somebody”, as we were hundreds of feet beneath the Capitoline Hill and the numerous levels of honeycombed hallways, rooms, and gathering areas were as confusing to navigate as they were gloomy.

  And then, of course, there was Marcus, who had offhandedly mentioned the numerous ghost stories concerning the prison, and how numerous children had been thought abducted by all kinds of demons, ghouls, and ghastly apparitions and brought into these depths. There was even a story that a Minotaur resided here. Fortunately, I hadn’t known what a Minotaur was, but then I’d been stupid enough to ask, and, unfortunately, Marcus had explained it in great detail to Archer and me. We’d stopped in our tracks to look at each other, sharing an extremely rare moment together, and ha
d to jog a bit to catch up to the Romans who had continued their trek uninterrupted.

  That had been about thirty minutes ago, and we were starting to run behind schedule. It was nearly noon and the rehearsal ceremony was due to start at any minute. I was beginning to wonder if Gaius and Marcus had any idea where they were going, but I knew they had to. They were Praetorians, and held high rank within the organization. After the chaos that had resulted when Agrippina had left Rome over a year ago – scattering her Praetorians far and wide, some staying with her, others out on assignment – roster call was a mess. No one had asked any questions when Gaius and Marcus had shown up a few days ago, and they’d had no trouble prying information from the drunken lips of other off duty guardsmen.

  Only a handful of Praetorians had stood watch over these inner sections of the prison, assigned specifically to guard the entrance to where Romulus was kept, but none dared venture into the bowls of the structure itself and none had questioned Gaius and Marcus when they’d led Archer and I, disguised in ragged clothing as a pair of political rivals to one politician or another, into the depths. It had been an obvious enough ruse, but today was a busy day, and everyone seemed distracted, so it had worked without a problem.

  That had been forty five minutes ago.

  I was growing tired of all this skulking around. I wasn’t sure our trip would ever end as we continued to pass empty cell after empty cell, each as spooky and desolate as the last – although I could have sworn I just saw another skeleton hanging from shackles attached to the ceiling. I shuddered at the possibility and continued on, but not before I ran headlong into Gaius’ back, my nose smashing against his armor, causing pain to flare all over my face. Flinging a hand up, I checked to see if it was broken, but it only seemed bruised. I looked up to glare at Gaius, who had turned around, his face illuminated by his torch.

  “You were supposed to stop when I did,” he said, smirking.

  “Har, har,” I mumbled, wrinkling my nose and giving it one last rub to eliminate any discomfort I felt there. “Where are we?”