To Crown a Caesar (The Praetorian Series: Book II)

by Crichton, Edward

  The man looked around skeptically, perhaps fearing how others would view him in the future were he to trust us, but we’d run into guys like him everywhere we went: leaders of small bandit groups with more balls than brains, and a lust for gold and riches that overwhelmed more rational thoughts.

  He had been as good as convinced long ago.

  “I’ve heard many rumors,” the man explained, “about your abilities and skills. Some even say you are gods.”

  Roman gods, Greek gods, Gaulic gods, it didn’t matter. Everyone we ran into always jumped to that conclusion first, and we never gave them any reason to doubt it.

  “We can demonstrate our worth if you require,” I told him. “But if you’re satisfied, I want fifty percent of all our earnings.”

  My negotiating partner crossed his arms and looked up at his companions. Not a one said a thing but some glanced amongst themselves awkwardly. They’d all heard the stories as well and knew we’d be powerful allies… or deadly enemies.

  “Thirty percent,” the man haggled.

  “Fifty,” I said.

  “Forty?” He asked, knowing full well where I was going.

  “Fifty,” I repeated a final time.

  The man looked beaten, but still pleased. “We must see what you can do first. Where?”

  “Outside. Now.”

  Taking my cue, Santino whispered in the barmaid’s ear, and she got off his lap to complete his request, pausing only slightly to giggle after Santino pinched her butt.

  The Gaul didn’t look impressed.

  “Why not here? Now?” The man asked.

  He was cleverer than I thought.

  “This tavern pleases me, as do its staff,” I said, throwing another wink at another waitress, a gesture I made sure he observed. “I would not like to inadvertently harm it or those within.”

  “Why should gods worry about such things?”

  “It’s not me that I’m worried about,” I said as I rose to my feet. “It’s you.”

  ***

  Once outside, I immediately felt the chill of the April air against my skin.

  I hated this time of year.

  The weather was unpredictable and its spontaneity was too difficult for my body to keep up with, and I regularly felt either too warm or too cold. It was an annoying sensation for me, but I didn’t let it show on my face, for a god wouldn’t find discomfort in such things.

  In the brief seconds it took for everyone to emerge from the tavern, I allowed myself the pleasure of taking in the view. Lush and beautiful, the alpine wonderland around us was breathtaking. The tavern sat on a small crest, a cliff that jutted from a small mountain, the first stop before continuing further up into larger and higher mountain ranges. It offered a perfect view of the city below and was an ideal place to rest before continuing the arduous hike upwards. Down the road, off in the distance, I could see the small town of Valentia at the foot of our mountain, little to see but with wide open vistas. Opposite the tavern was another steep hillside filled with trees that continued up into the mountains.

  That’s where Helena would be.

  I paused on a spot a few yards from the horses and indicated the Gauls should stop where they were, just a few feet away, between me and Helena.

  “What now?” The leader asked.

  “Patience,” I said.

  Before the words escaped my mouth, Santino’s barmaid came running from inside, a large coconut in her hands. Where they’d found the coconut, I hadn’t a clue, my only guess revolving around migrating swallows. Whatever its origins, the young barmaid handed it to Santino and stepped up on her toes to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head at the last second and kissed her full on the lips. The small woman giggled again and her hands flew to her mouth. She scampered in place for another second before rushing back inside, Santino grinning after her.

  I gave him a dubious look as I snatched the coconut from his grip, which he returned smugly. Still looking at him, I shook my head and offered the fruit to one of the Gauls.

  It wasn’t the leader, so when he looked at it in confusion, his question came out in Gaulic.

  “What does he do with it?” The leader demanded.

  “Tell him to hold it out in front of him, as far from his body as possible.”

  When the man did so, I held out my hand so that my palm faced the hillside.

  “When I snap my fingers, I will make this piece of fruit explode.”

  Some of the men laughed, while two traded money in preparation for a bet. The leader gestured with his hand, an eerily similar gesture to the one Caligula had offered us four years ago when he was given his own demonstration. It was a gesture of uninterested skepticism, one that always made me smile.

  I counted down on my hand, starting with all five fingers extended, but when only my middle finger remained, clearly directed towards the leader, I snapped them together. Not a millisecond later, the fruit exploded gloriously in a sticky mess. There had been no sound from Helena’s suppressor equipped DSR1, so from the god fearing perspective of ancient Gauls, I had indeed caused it to explode.

  The leader laughed as he wiped coconut milk from his face and came to slap my shoulder. “A fine show!” He yelled. “You will be good, I think. My name is Madriviox. Come. I will take you home.”

  ***

  I gathered our bags from inside the tavern while Santino said goodbye to his fair, young lass. She was sad to see him go, but he promised he would return. She perked up at the news and gave him another kiss. He squeezed her butt in return and I rolled my eyes at how she loved every minute of it. I tapped my foot as I waited for him at the door, but at least he didn’t make me wait long. We were soon on our horses and falling into line with Madriviox.

  The horses had actually been Agrippina’s. Ones Santino and I had rode when we had accompanied her to Rome before she’d betrayed us all those years ago. They were black Spanish stallions, some of the best I’d ever seen. We’d stolen them from Agrippina’s stable the day we fled Rome while Helena had taken a pure white mare. I’d named mine Felix, the Latin word for lucky. I figured it was appropriate.

  Just another reason why Agrippina had it out for us.

  We rode in the middle of our new employer’s formation, peering and distrustful eyes all around us. I would have been worried had Helena not been pacing us at a distance where she could cover us with her long rifle should she need to. We’d only been travelling for a few miles when Madriviox randomly peeled off the main road. From then on, we took a disorienting route as we weaved our way through the forest. It wasn’t long before I found myself completely lost, with no idea where we were or what direction we were going. The sun was behind clouds, all the trees looked the same and there were zero distinguishing features along the way to guide me.

  However, one of my watch’s more advanced features was a basic GPS function that mapped out a journey as it rode on a wearer’s wrist. At automated increments, it updated a waypoint and calculated the distance between it and the previous waypoint. It would also indicate the direction needed to retrace my steps. The watch even transmitted the waypoints to Helena through Santino’s UAV, an invisible guardian angel, flying above us as it broadcasted an internet connection capable of reaching Helena miles away.

  I spent the long hours of our trip trying to focus and think, but quickly found myself bored senseless. Endless trees didn’t offer much inspiration and I fell asleep in my saddle on a number of occasions. After what seemed like half the day, we finally found ourselves standing before a brush of bushes. As we approached, Madriviox called out and the bushes separated, allowing us entrance into a cave.

  I laughed, never actually believing that secret lairs used by bandits, highwaymen and the like actually existed. I’d always thought they were something Hollywood and the video game industry had made popular with little thought towards historical accuracy, but the hideout before me was in fact something straight out of Robin Hood.

  As we entered, I immediately sensed t
hat the cave system was indeed more like the ones in the movies than I first thought. We had to abandon our horses at the entrance, moving the rest of the way on foot. The winding corridors reminded me of the caves we’d traversed back in 2021, but I didn’t like those then, and I don’t like these now. The narrow hallways and honeycomb of passages left too many unknowns lurking around hidden corners and the feeling of claustrophobia only grew worse as we continued.

  I glanced at Santino as we walked with two guards at our back and he flicked his eyebrows up in anticipation. I looked at him ruefully and concentrated on counting bad guys. For such a large cave complex, I only counted twenty two, but there could have been a hundred men in the unexplored sections of the complex.

  Our escorts were quiet, only nodding to friends they encountered along the way. I was beginning to wonder where they were taking us when that fact became evidently clear. We found ourselves in a narrow corridor that dead ended at a cul-de-sac, barred off from the rest of the tunnel.

  I looked over at Santino again. He looked calm and ready.

  One of the Gauls opened the gate and led the entourage inside. Once inside I noticed the room’s sole occupant was a young blond girl. She was youthful and cute, but had a series of nasty cuts and bruises all over her thin body, most of which was visible thanks to the little clothing she wore. Judging from the description her mother had given us, I decided this girl had to be our target.

  Madriviox walked to where she lay and roughly hauled her off the floor. He pulled her up into a choke hold, tearing off what little clothing she had left with his free hand, tossing it to the floor. I looked away, noticing another dozen of her kidnappers approach our position from down the hall. They leaned against the walls or milled about casually, their posture indicating they weren’t preparing to spring a trap on us, but that they were aware Santino and I might not be welcome after all.

  I hated it when the bad guys were competent.

  Madriviox pointed towards me and barked something out in the guttural language of his homeland. One of his men nodded and offered me his sword. The only weapons I had on me were my rifle, my sidearm, a large bowie knife on my belt, and the small throwing knife I always kept sheathed behind my belt at the small of my back. I grasped the sword handle and looked at it dumbly. I wasn’t sure what they expected me to do.

  “Kill her,” Madriviox ordered, the small girl limp, complacent and broken in his arm.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, looking into the terror stricken eyes of the young woman.

  “I said kill her. She is beautiful, but we have had enough of her. There are always more women.”

  I looked at the sword as though I didn’t even know what it could do. I knew I wasn’t going to kill her, but how could I continue our ruse if I didn’t? My mind raced, but I was unable to think of a solution. I guess we hadn’t thought this one through. We were getting cocky. Four years of successful missions, even infiltration missions just like this one, each going off without a hitch had made us arrogant.

  “No,” I said before looking up, nothing else to say.

  The man tsked me. “Too bad. I keep that fifty percent now. We would have given you to the empress soon anyway.”

  With a snap of his fingers, his men turned on us, pointing their swords and spears threateningly at Santino and me. I looked around, hoping for a way out, but found none. I dropped the sword and ejected the magazine from my HK416, Penelope, before handing it reluctantly to one of the Gauls. He looked at it curiously before shrugging, passing her to one of the other Gauls who also looked at it skeptically. He banged it against the wall and I winced at the abuse. Santino did the same and we surrendered our knives as well.

  “A pity,” Madriviox continued. “I hoped to use you for a few months, but we will go to Rome now. The empress will be pleased. As for you,” he said, whispering in the small girl’s ear. “I let you live. Keep them company tonight. It may be the last time they see a woman.”

  “Hey, Gender Confused Moron,” Santino chimed in, “you realize Agrippina’s got lady parts dangling between her legs, right?” He crossed his arms confidently before smacking his forehead in realization. “Oh wait, I got that one wrong again, didn’t I?”

  Madriviox glared at Santino, my friend’s small joke sparking a wave of chuckles amongst his own men. He barked an order that stopped them mid laugh, and they filed out of the area as quickly as they could. Anger swelled around Madriviox as he dropped the girl and watched as she crawled to a corner before curling up into a ball, trying to hide her shame. With nothing left to say, he sent me another sharp look before exiting the cell, locking the door behind him.

  Santino and I walked over to the bars and rested our heads between them.

  “How did we let this happen?” Santino asked. “We were just tricked by a bunch of illiterate Vikings.” He shook his head. “Agrippina was one thing, but this is pretty pathetic.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” I assured.

  “And why not?”

  “Because they broke the first two rules in the ‘How-to-be-a-Good-Bad-Guy’ Handbook.”

  “Do tell.”

  “First,” I said, holding up a finger. “They let us live.”

  “Always a bad idea,” he agreed.

  “Second, they didn’t search us very well. We still have our pistols, and I still have this.” I held up a small brick of plastic C4, more than enough to blow open the lock.

  Santino chuckled. “Clearly they don’t watch enough TV.”

  “Clearly. Still, we should wait till nightfall.” I thought for a second. “Is your UAV picking up our signal down here?”

  Santino pulled his computer from his bag and consulted it. “No. Guess the rocks are blocking it.”

  “Figures,” I muttered. While it wasn’t exactly a shit show, the mission was quickly turning into one of our worst. “See if you can pick this lock so we can bust out of here real quiet like.”

  “Me? What are you going to do?”

  “Just do it,” I told him perhaps a little too hastily.

  I ignored his hurt expression and moved towards the cowering form of the young Roman woman. It occurred to me that I could have simply told Santino that I feared his scarred face may frighten the young woman, but my patience with his whining had worn thin long ago. I pulled off my bag, which the Gauls had also stupidly left us, and pulled out a thin blanket. I knelt beside the girl and tried to wrap it around her, but she recoiled from my touch, forcing me to back away. The poor girl was so frail and beaten; I wasn’t sure how to interact with her. I tried holding the blanket out innocently, and was happy to see her gingerly reach out and take it with a shaky hand. I took a step back and enticed her to wrap it around herself by mimicking the gesture over my own shoulders. It took her another few seconds before she understood what to do.

  “What’s your name?” I asked her gently, crouching a safe distance away.

  She didn’t say anything. She just looked at me out of the corner of her eyes as she trembled, the blanket covering everything from her nose down.

  I reached my hand out but didn’t touch her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to bring you back to your mother.”

  The girl’s eyes widened at the revelation, and her trembling slowly subsided. Quietly, through chattering teeth and eyes streaming tears, I heard the girl whisper, “Julia.”

  That was the name her mother supplied me.

  “Try and get some sleep,” I told her. “We’ll take you to your mother in a few hours.”

  She didn’t react outwardly, but her tears finally stopped flowing and her eyes closed before she quietly went still. She was already asleep. The poor girl was exhausted. I reached out and tucked her exposed arm under the blanket, careful so that I didn’t disturb her. She may have been kept awake for days, probably for reasons I never wanted to think about it.

  I joined Santino by the bars again. “What do you think? Four hours?”

  “Three,” he corrected. “Most of these guys alread
y look drunk enough as it is, and it’s getting late. What I don’t get is how they expected these bars to hold us. You blew up a coconut just by snapping.”

  “I figure they’re either too smart or too dumb for their own good,” I deduced. “Either they’ve figured out we faked it somehow or else they’re just too dumb and drunk to think we can do the same to iron bars. Either way, we win.”

  “Right,” Santino agreed. “I picked the lock by the way.”

  I looked at the bars to see they were already slightly ajar. We could leave at any time.

  Santino waited for some form of acknowledgment from me, but when one didn’t come, he crossed his arms, leaned his right shoulder against the bars and looked at me. He was never one for awkward silences.

  “Sure you don’t want to talk about what happened back at the tavern? We’ve got plenty of time to burn.”

  “No,” I said. “There’s nothing to talk about, especially not with you.”

  He flicked his eyebrows into the air and looked away. “Well, that was rude,” he mumbled. After a second he looked back at me and seemed to perk up. “Hey, here’s an idea, why don’t you feel free to blame me for all of your problems.”

  “I’m not,” I countered, amazed at how angry I now was. “It’s not your problem.”

  “You’re damn right it’s my problem because your problems always become my problems.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what it means, Jacob. Everything you’ve done since I’ve met you has affected my life in one way or another, and you know what, some of it ain’t good.”

  I stared at him, the frustration dripping from his tone paining me more than I thought it could. He was my best bud, after all. We’d had our share of disagreements and arguments over the years, sure, but he’d never said anything quite so personal before. Different perspectives and ideas on how to run an op, definitely, but never something with so much disguised meaning behind it. But it was more about what he had left unsaid that was the most upsetting, the implied lack of faith in the decisions I’ve made and frustration at the actions I’ve done.