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

by Crichton, Edward

  I heard her words and drank them in, but was unable to repress the fury swirling within me as I found myself being dragged to the floor of our tent by Helena, tremors continuing to course through my body. She turned my head to rest it against her chest, and an overwhelming need to sleep overcame me. I shut my eyes, forcing any potential wayward tear back behind the shoddily erected barricades my subconscious struggled to rebuild, and felt the sweet escape of sleep overpower me as Helena rocked me in place.

  But my last thought before unconsciousness was that maybe Agrippina was right. Maybe she really did have all the answers. Maybe the only thing I needed was to accept her offer and work with her. Maybe with her, my life would be complete, or… or at least find meaning again, and the sense of emptiness deep within me would be filled. The responsibility I’d heaped upon myself would be gone and I could dictate a new path to the future without the need to reorient the timeline.

  Who would care?

  I thought of little else as my mind slowly spiraled on a downwards course towards oblivion, but a physical presence reminded me not to trust random thoughts influenced by emotion. The warm, familiar form of Helena next to me reminded my subconscious to think more clearly and rationalize everything, the same as her comforting voice always did when I was awake.

  It was unfortunate then that at that very second, when my mind finally collapsed in on itself, that the last thing I remembered was the sweet scent of Helena’s presence associated with the horrifying idea that maybe Agrippina was in fact right. It was a furtive thought that threatened everything I had come to understand and hope for, but was perhaps an idea worth investigating.

  The only question left was how I would feel when I woke.

  Part Two

  V

  Byzantium

  Mission Entry #5

  Jacob Hunter

  Byzantium, Thracia - June, 42 A.D.

  If you are at all knowledgeable about geography, you should already know from the heading that we went east. As for the mission to capture Nero, all I have to say on the matter is that it was a failure. He wasn’t even there.

  No – that’s not all I’m prepared to say, actually. There’s more.

  Finding Agrippina hadn’t been a problem for us that night, but what really threw a wrinkle in our plan was that we found the blue, time traveling orb as well. It was the same one I knew we’d have to find some day, but was also the one thing I hadn’t been prepared for. There had been, and still are, too many unanswered questions about the thing, so many, in fact, that I hadn’t even wanted to go looking for it until we were satisfied the timeline was back on track.

  And still don’t.

  But I’d found it that night and it had influenced me in ways I hadn’t thought possible. There’s just something about it, some kind of draw that I can’t resist. Something that makes me think things and do things I wouldn’t normally do. I’ve yet to determine whether it affects others as well, but I haven’t really had many opportunities to test the theory. But regardless of whether it does or doesn’t, I can vouch for how it affects me:

  Negatively.

  To the point that it almost made me do things I would later regret.

  Then again, I did do things that night that I regretted anyway. Things I don’t want to discuss nor feel the need to record here I’ve suffered through enough self-inflicted pain over the episode already, and the only reason I had been able to deal with it all was because we egressed the fuck away from Agrippina that night, and have been on the run ever since.

  Like I said, we went east.

  We knew Vincent was somewhere in the Middle East, probably around Jerusalem, so we decided to follow Bordeaux’s trail. We hoped to meet up with them a lot sooner than originally planned, but when we arrived in Athens, he’d already left with Wang.

  Having already missed them, we’d decided to spend a few days there, where we learned firsthand how much of an influence Wang had been on local doctors and the Greek medical profession in general. Greece had always been on the cutting edge of science and medicine, even after the Romans conquered them, but their knowledge palled before Wang’s – a simple combat medic from the 21st century.

  We’d asked around concerning his whereabouts, and many of his former partners told us his story:

  Wang had arrived early one morning a few months after he’d left Rome, claiming he had walked all the way from the Orient and that he possessed knowledge far beyond their own. They were skeptical, of course, but with his help, Greek doctors had been able to synthesize all kinds of new drugs, the most popular being more effective pain killers. Others, such as diuretics and cough drops, were popular as well.

  They’d given us a few test samples, and I remember smiling at the small objects that mimicked those in gross demand two thousand years from now. Obviously, Wang didn’t have the material or equipment needed to make the kind of pills you take every day, but he had done his best. From what I observed, the pills, which were more like wafers, consisted of mashed together herbs and plants that had been dried, crushed and formed into little consumables, held together by God knows what.

  It had worked though, and the headache I’d been suffering from that day had been gone in minutes.

  Unfortunately, the doctors also informed us Wang had left two weeks before our arrival in the company of a very large Gaul and his, likewise, very large family. They had seemed comically sad that Wang had left them and had indicated no one knew where he was going, just that they had gone east.

  So, after a quick tourist stop at the Acropolis and Parthenon for some pictures, we moved on to Byzantium, the ancient city later known as Constantinople, which would even later be named Istanbul. What name you know the city by is any man’s guess, but I do know its Greek name – Byzantium – should still exist in your timeline if you dig down deep enough through your history books.

  It was a good place to lay low for a while.

  I needed to get my head together after the incident with Agrippina, and I knew Helena and Santino could use rest as well. After four years on the run, constantly taking risks and making enemies, we needed a break. Byzantium would be a good place to blend in and keep ourselves off Agrippina’s radar for a few months.

  East was the last place she would think to look for us.

  There was nothing of value for her here.

  Byzantium was also the best place to wait for Bordeaux as he made his way back with Wang and Vincent. They’d have to cross through Anatolia, you may know it as Turkey, but I doubt it, and the best place to cross from east to west was over the Bosporus, the narrow straight that separated the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara (or simply Propontis as its known these days – the “before sea“).

  It’s been a little more than two months since Santino’s last journal entry, which I feel the need to comment on as elegant in its crude simplicity, and it may be a while again before the next one. I was too hasty and arrogant when I first decided to act on my plan a few months ago. Santino, Bordeaux… Helena… they were all right. They were always right. I don’t know why I even listen to myself anymore.

  I need perspective.

  I need time to regroup and think.

  I sat back and thought, leaving my journal to rest upon the table where it lay.

  Taking time to regroup and think was a hell of an idea, but even after a few days here in Byzantium and months on the run, I’d done little in the way of thinking. It had taken me the entire time we were here just to convince myself it was time for another journal entry, and I now realized it had in fact been long overdue.

  What had happened aboard Agrippina’s barge and later with Helena in our tent ate away at me at times, but never so much as it did that night. I had let my guard down with Helena and allowed myself to succumb to the one emotion I couldn’t afford to feel: fear. We weren’t going to accomplish anything that way, but there were times when I couldn’t help but dwell on that night. The orb and its power had been disturbing, yes, but it was an obvious prob
lem. What was truly unsettling were the things Agrippina had said.

  The image of her kneeling on her bed as blood dripped from her neck and was smeared all over her thighs was burrowed into my mind, but her words were all I could focus on – You didn’t expect all your questions to be answered so quickly, did you, Jacob? That, as you would say, would spoil the story, she had said. And she was right. It was exactly something I would say, but how would she know that? And before even that, she had said something about choosing a particular path. What path? Were there more than one?

  Her words had a distinctly predictive nature to them, as though she knew more than she let on. As if she knew the course of events that night before they even began. The thought shouldn’t have been a surprise considering her possession of a glowing, time traveling ball, but I was convinced she couldn’t use it. I had seen Claudius hold the orb in his own hand without any indication he could use it like I could and Caligula had had ownership of it for months after the reclamation of Rome. In neither instance had there been any sign they had any idea how it worked, let alone been able to operate it. As far as I knew, Marcus Varus and I were the only two people in the entire universe that could use it.

  My only conclusion was that I didn’t know what to think, but that I’d damn well better figure it out soon. Not only that, but that we now had two immediate objectives, neither new, and neither overtly specific. First, we had to destroy the orb; both of them, actually, since technically there are two. The second had yet to surface, but we had to find and destroy it just as soundly as the one in Agrippina’s possession. Secondly, we had to continue our goal of usurping Agrippina from the throne. The more I thought about her the more convinced I was that she had to be removed for the sake of everything. She knew too much about the orb, and that was bad enough. At worst, she was displaying signs of corruption from its presence, although it was taking far longer with her than it had with either Caligula or Claudius.

  Helena was probably the last piece of redemption I had to work on. The last, yes, but that didn’t mean I had to wait to work on it. We’d been so close to bridging the gap that had formed between us over the past year, but little progress had been made since Agrippina. I’ve been distracted, introspective, much the same as I had been prior to my time on the barge, only this time I had cause and wasn’t unaware of it. I thought Helena understood this time, hence her own distance, but I couldn’t be sure.

  The only problem was that I had no idea where to start with either goal. Santino and Helena weren’t ready to discuss it, both preferring to stay out of the game as long as possible. They’d been avoiding me more than usual lately, and I hadn’t done much to promote conversation either. Helena, I knew, was worried about me, having voiced her concerns on a number of occasions, but while I wasn’t nearly so distant as I had been before, I wasn’t ready to talk quite yet.

  Santino, on the other hand, was simply more inclined to let things play out and see what happened. It was a character trait he’d developed during his time with Delta, whose original mission parameters were often discarded in lieu of more timely developments that threatened to dramatically alter a mission.

  I sighed and crossed my arms, still disgruntled over the whole affair. Everything was so muddied in my brain, I couldn’t think straight. Every time I felt I was on to something, another something would pop into my mind and distract me. Whether it was our direction for removing Agrippina or realigning the timeline or finding the orb; the past few months had been filled with foggy internal monologues about what to do and how to do it, but with no results to show for it.

  But that’s what we were here for. It was to be a time to relax. If there was ever a time to get a handle on my life, It was now. It was time to grow up and find perspective.

  Luckily, we couldn’t have chosen a better spot.

  I picked up my journal and wrapped a rubber band around it with my pen inside, and gave my surroundings a thoughtful look. Byzantium, as the ancient city was presently known, was a Greek city that was everything but the shinning beacon of Christianity it will become as Constantinople, or the exemplar of Islamic dominance it will be as Istanbul. Byzantium, as I’ve come to notice, was many things, but it was nothing like I remembered from when I visited Istanbul as a kid.

  Istanbul had been a beautiful city, despite how much I once despised it. I hadn’t hated it based on any modern religious connotations, but because Constantinople had once been the capital of the Byzantine Empire, the eastern continuation of the Roman Empire, and I had hated anything that fucked with my beloved Romans.

  At least I had before I found myself living in their hellhole of a world.

  Now, I couldn’t care less. Good for the Ottomans.

  Like its modern equivalent, Byzantium was rich and prosperous, and the area I was now in reflected that prosperity even if the city itself was a shadow of what it would soon become. Located on the only waterway that connected the Black Sea with the rest of the Mediterranean, and situated on the far ends of both western and eastern cultures, Byzantium had become one of the largest trading hubs in the Roman Empire. Anything that could be bought or sold went through Byzantium, and the city turned a tidy profit because of it.

  Istanbul, circa 2021, however, was huge, spreading all the way to the Black Sea along both eastern and western banks of the Bosporus, a narrow waterway that connected the Black Sea and the Mediterranean Sea, and inland for miles in both directions. The ancient city of Byzantium was tiny in comparison. Currently the city’s territory consisted of only the small peninsula at the southern tip of the Bosporus, formed by a narrow waterway that juts into the western shoreline for a few miles, known as the Golden Horn, used as a deep water harbor since the city’s creation.

  The city was nice and compact, and with the addition of the Golden Horn, easily defensible, as the city proved regularly, even though it would eventually fall. Nothing lasted forever. Only a few square miles in size, the city still boasted areas both opulent and dingy. Santino and Helena had voiced concerns that its small size wouldn’t make for a suitable place to hide, but I had my suspicions otherwise. I figured that due to its location and importance as a trading port, the population density would be extremely high. When we arrived, I was quickly proven right. The amount of people that crowded the streets was vast, and every last one of them seemed to congregate around the city’s markets, of which there were dozens, where any number of goods and items could be found.

  To make matters worse for my companions, I’d convinced them to take up residence in one of the seedier areas of the ancient city since logic dictated it was the best place to remain inconspicuous. It was rank and dirty, but it suited our purposes. Located near the southeast side of the city, it was fairly close to the water. In fact, our small two room apartment had a fantastic view of the Propontis, even if our neighbors were less than desirable.

  It had only taken Santino a number of hours before he realized the majority of the building was used as a brothel.

  Our shady neighbors, downtrodden conditions and beds that smelt like mold and fermenting bodily fluids were minor inconveniences we needed to get used to, a fact lost on Santino. It’s been nothing but complaints from him about how we could easily afford better living accommodations which, I had to admit, was true. We’d accumulated enough wealth over the years to set us up for quite some time in one of the finest establishments in any city, in fact.

  We brought our wealth with us in two supply containers, both about the size of a small bed, along with the few remaining MREs, spare clothing, ammunition, explosives, tools and repair kits, medical supplies, and other survival gear – what moderate amounts we had left. We also placed the few extra rifles and pistols we had, including Helena’s M107 .50 caliber Barrett sniper rifle, the rest of the ammunition and other miscellaneous supplies in a third containers, burying the three remaining ones.

  Yet another lost part of the place we’d come from.

  We’d loaded everything into a wagon, drawn by Helena
’s horse and my own, and went east. We didn’t run into any trouble along the way, but that was because we left our cocky attitudes with Agrippina and assimilated completely into Roman culture. Our rifles, combat fatigues and boots were all stowed away, replaced by tunics, woolen trousers, Greek style dresses for Helena, and sandals for footwear. We kept our pistols handy, but had brought our swords out of retirement, reluctantly realizing we may have to use them to maintain our cover.

  We were on vacation.

  Basically.

  Our few days here had been relaxing so far, reminding me of our first few days spent in Ancient Rome. Like then, life seemed so peaceful, but with the nagging feeling that I was being watched. Then, we had been under the watchful eye of Caligula’s Praetorians, but now it was out of a sense of paranoia. While no one knew we were here, and the Roman Empire was vast, I couldn’t bring myself to trust a single person I interacted with.

  With that thought in mind, I dropped a few coins on the table to pay for my meal as I left, and didn’t pay another soul in the restaurant any attention. I’d had lunch in one of Byzantium’s upper class districts, where the sun seemed brighter and the chances of getting stabbed in the back slimmer. The food had been adequate, not quite at the standards of the 21st century, but the outside patio was pleasant and great for people watching, something my mother, sister and I had done all the time back when we were kids.

  The immediate area was a public bazaar of sorts, where small booth sized shops sold food, clothing, jewelry, weapons, and all sorts of other knickknacks. I had observed men and women of all ages, ethnicities, and cultural background mingling in the busy streets, doing this and doing that, nothing of real consequence.

  The laughter and happiness of these simple people was contagious, however, and I was suddenly transfixed by a couple purchasing some new clothing for their young daughters The girls tried on their new dresses, squealing in delight, giving both mother and father tender, warm hugs. It was a touching sight, and maybe I was just feeling old and nostalgic, but I could have sworn I felt something like jealousy as well. Whatever the case may have been, I was just glad to have the opportunity to relax and spend some time alone for once. I hadn’t been very good company for the past few months, and having been in such close proximity with Helena and Santino for so long hadn’t done much to raise my spirits.