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

by Crichton, Edward

  “We will help you, Matthias Ben Joseph. Contact us when you have further information.”

  Matthias showed no emotion, no suspicion, or even a smile in celebration. He merely stood, nodded and left. Santino and I’d been sitting at this table at the same time, every day for a week now, and he knew we’d be here tomorrow.

  Now that he was gone, I allowed myself the slow sigh of personal abhorrence I had been letting in for too long.

  This war was going to happen with or without our help, I tried to reason as I attempted to soothe my conscience. One way or another, Romans and Jews were going to fight each other. Many on both sides were going to die. We were merely accelerating its beginning to serve our needs, but we had no intention of helping the Jews win. All we needed was for them to draw Agrippina away from Germany. We planned to fight with them until that happened, but once she arrived, we needed to take action, and that meant abandoning those we promised to help win their freedom.

  I tried to reassure myself by remembering that despite our abilities, we were still a very small drop in the ocean that is the Roman war machine. They’ll have little trouble putting down this rebellion with or without our help.

  Fate, as it was, would get what it wanted.

  “So?” Santino asked, his skilled eyes tracking Matthias’ departure. “Now what?”

  He already knew the answer.

  “Now,” I replied, letting out another sigh as I got to my feet, “we go play the other side.”

  ***

  I glanced at my watch. 0130. Eight hours after our meeting with Matthias.

  Santino and I were sneaking through the side streets of Caesarea, making our way to the home of the Roman procurator, Cuspius Fadus. Like foreign embassies in the 21st century, Roman’s kept little bastions of itself tucked away in the provinces they controlled where provincial administrators and their families would operate and live in small compounds, tucked away and secure behind twenty foot walls and a local force of urban cohorts.

  Nothing we couldn’t handle. Infiltrating a Roman administrative complex was child’s play next to sneaking into a legionary barracks.

  Our intel confirmed lazy guards, gaps in their perimeter, and a complete lack of patrols, whether on rooftop or within the courtyards. We assumed there would be guard patrols within the halls of the buildings, but I wasn’t expecting much. There was a fair chance that once inside, we’d encounter very little, if any, resistance.

  Bordeaux, Wang and Titus were on overwatch, tracking us with the UAV. They waited nearby, having gone to ground in defensive positions along bordering rooftops to provide cover fire should we need it. Helena, as always, was situated about three hundred yards away, playing the pivotal role of guardian angel. The past four years had instilled in me an inherent trust, along with a need, to know she was there. The rest of the guys were appreciated reinforcements, but without her doing what she did best, I wouldn’t be so confident.

  Finally, Vincent and Madrina were on bail out duty. Madrina had the wagon we’d brought with us from Gaul loaded and ready to go, while Vincent controlled the rest of the team’s horses. Should we need to get the hell out of Caesarea, it would be a quick matter of linking up with them and bugging out.

  I lowered my arm and glanced at Santino, just in time to stop myself from bumping into him. He’d stopped at a corner and was peaking around, scanning for potential threats. His hand signal indicated all was clear, and he led the two of us into a small alleyway, dead ending with the halls of the embassy to our right, and other residential homes to the left and in front of us.

  Using the shadows for cover, Santino reached into his locally made bag and extracted his grapping hook and rope. After performing a quick inspection of his equipment, an assortment of expletives spewed from his mouth when he discovered the rope had found a way to tangle itself in his poorly designed pack, a problem that wouldn’t have happened had the mission called for our night ops combat fatigues, but tonight, we were going in native.

  Madrina was not only a logistical genius, a great cook and a pretty face, but a fine seamstress as well. Being pretty handy with a needle and thread myself, she and I crafted a few sets of clothing that very closely resembled what Agrippina’s Praetorian ninjas wore. The outfits weren’t overly difficult, the material consisting of some kind of ancient denim/corduroy hybrid, and the end result was close enough to fool just about anyone who’d encountered the troublesome foe before.

  Santino dropped another expletive when he had to backtrack his untangling and attack the rope from another direction.

  “Ever get the feeling we overuse this plot device?” He asked, frustrated.

  “You mean the grappling hook?” I asked back. “Nah, grappling hooks are way cool. Every good movie has them.”

  “Name one.”

  “Uh, ninja and pirate movies?”

  I didn’t have much to offer. It had been four years since I’d last seen a movie, and my once extensive vault of pop culture knowledge was quickly fading.

  “Good enough for me,” he said, finally deciding on the best route to untangle his mess. “Speaking of movies, put any thought into what you’re going to do first when we get home?”

  I actually hadn’t thought much about it. Camp gossip had, as of late, been rife with little else but thoughts of home, but I tried not to allow myself the luxury of a, still as of yet, distant hope.

  “Probably take a two hour long shower I guess,” I answered, not really needing to think about it much. “There’s dirt on me that’s been with me ever since our time in the Primigenia’s camp.”

  Santino ceased what he was doing completely to look at me. “Will Helena…”

  “Shut it.”

  “And after that?” He asked, not missing a beat, already back at work on the rope.

  I sighed. “I’m not sure. Since we were talking about movies, maybe I’ll watch one. Helena has promised to sit through all the Bond movies with me, maybe we’ll start…”

  “Do you two ever stop talking?” Helena asked from three hundred yards away.

  “Sorry, mommy,” Santino said, finally getting the rope under control.

  I sent him a thumbs up, more for the mom quip than his successful defeat of the stubborn rope, and backed up to give him room to throw it over the wall. Tossing it over, he pulled it taught and ascended into the little piece of Rome away from Rome.

  Once upon the stone wall, the compound’s lack of security became immediately apparent. The guard station to our left revealed two snoozing guards, derelict of duty, and in serious need of a few lashes from a centurion’s olive branch. We paid them little mind and moved deeper into the compound, making our way inside the small housing and administrative complex.

  Once again, the guards were negligible, as we knew they would be.

  Santino and Wang had infiltrated the embassy yesterday, under the guise of rival store vendors hoping to defer to Roman law over a price gauging controversy. The two had spent their time mapping out the interior of both administrative and residential wings of the large building, and had identified the location of the procurator’s room. The two morons even managed to get their fictitious case heard by the procurator, who sided with Wang, stating that the quality of Santino’s goods did not justify his prices.

  Crazy bastards.

  We moved quickly through the complex, only running into one real problem along the way. Just outside the procurator’s room, a pair of guards who apparently took their jobs more seriously than the rest, stepped into view as we made our way down the hallway that led to our destination. Using the cover of darkness, I hid behind a small column while Santino ducked under a marble bench, and we waited for them to simply pass us by. We waited for another ten minutes before they finally passed by us again.

  A ten minute window being more than enough time to make our way into the procurator’s room, we carefully walked to Fadus’ room, opening and closing the heavy wooden doors with a gentle touch. Moving into the room, Santino tapped m
y shoulder and pointed to the ceiling, indicating the open skylight above us. I tossed him nod, indicating I too saw the designated escape route we had noted the night before. We located two chairs, moved them to the left side of the only bed in the room, plopped ourselves down, and inspected our target.

  It was hot outside, muggy, and the night air was stifling. Cuspius Fadus lay bare-chested upon the bed, only a light sheet wrapped haphazardly around his midsection. The only other piece of adornment he wore was a pretty nice piece of arm candy, in the form of a dark skinned naked girl somewhere in her twenties. This girl wasn’t Fadus’ wife, and while I never condoned adultery, I was pretty impressed with his catch of the night.

  “Wake up,” I whispered.

  Fadus’ eyes shot wide open and he bolted into a sitting position. The young girl awoke much slower, wondering what had alerted her older lover before she too took note of us. After another ten seconds, along with a very revealing show of her nude form, she finally realized her nakedness and went about securing the sheet over herself. She cowered beneath Fadus’ arm for protection and eyed us nervously.

  Fadus was in his forties, black hair, a bit of paunch on his stomach, but still in pretty good shape. I assumed he didn’t need his prestigious position to score with lovely young ladies like the one here tonight, but it probably helped. Like most of his fellow procurators, word on the street was that he was avaricious and bloodthirsty, similar qualities possessed by his successors thirty years from now.

  He was exactly someone Agrippina would choose and the people hated him for it.

  “The Empress sent you, didn’t she?” He asked. “You must be her new lapdogs she has been threatening everyone with.”

  I stayed silent, deferring to Santino’s dialect magic, once again in character.

  “We are,” he confirmed, his Latin sounding distinctly southern Italian. “My name is Mario, and this is Luigi.”

  “What do you want?” Fadus asked, shaking his head in confusion. Whether it was from our presence or the names Santino provided, I didn’t know.

  Santino leaned in close, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “It is the Empress’ wish to settle an issue here in Judea. She regrets her appointment of Herod. Even though he holds little power, she wishes you to remove him.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard,” Fadus admitted. “I have received word that he will be in Caesarea for at least another week. With the growing tension in the city, I would think it a matter of little difficulty to see him back to Rome. Should hostilities occur, people will either blame him or expect him to resolve them himself. Neither option seems enjoyable to me.”

  “You do not understand,” Santino chided with a shake of his head. “She wishes for you to eliminate him.”

  “Assassinate him?”

  “Yes. His presence has become a nuisance to Rome. The Empress receives constant correspondence from him and his people demanding a change in Rome’s political and administrative policies concerning Judea, but as you are fully aware, the Empress is quite satisfied in her positions.”

  “Yes, she is quite confident in herself,” Fadus admitted, looking at his feet.

  Even a career bureaucrat had to know some of her policies were bullshit and that people were not happy about it.

  He looked back at Santino, his eyes suspicious. “Why are you coming to me unannounced in the middle of the night? Could you not have made an appointment with me tomorrow and come see me then?”

  “We are asking you to assassinate a local head of state,” Santino said slowly. “One does not normally ask such things in an official capacity, now do they?”

  “Well, no, I suppose not,” Fadus admitted, pulling his arm away from his whore, and pushing her off the bed. Santino and I watched her impressive backside patter across the room and out the door.

  “What is the Empress’ deadline?” He asked.

  “You have two days. No later,” Santino said hastily. It must have been killing him inside, unable to make a joke about the girl, her retreating bare butt, Fadus’ promiscuity, or some combination thereof.

  “Why don’t you two do it? From what I understand, you are most capable of such a deed.”

  Santino stood from his chair and I followed suit. He looked up at the skylight and tossed his grappling hook over the ledge. At least grappling hooks were indigenous to the time period, and its use wouldn’t seem odd to the Roman procurator.

  “Because the Empress wishes you to do it,” he said, making sure he emphasized the point that any wish from Agrippina was more of a demand than a request. He let me head up the rope first, leaving Fadus with a final thought before he shimmied up behind me.

  “Do not disappoint her.”

  Fadus nodded his head vigorously and ignored our departure.

  He was onboard, even if he didn’t know it yet. No one crossed Agrippina these days. To do so was certain death.

  Once on the roof, I helped Santino out of the skylight, and hauled up the rope.

  “Nice job, buddy,” I complimented. “I thought you were going to crack when that floozy ran out of there.”

  “Pfft,” he wheezed. “I am a professional, you know.” He sighed. “But you are right. That girl had a fantastic ass. I think I’m getting lonely.”

  “Get over it. When was your last tavern wench? Last night?”

  He let out another sigh. “Memories…”

  I laughed and the two of us quietly snuck out of the compound, making our way to the team’s prearranged rendezvous point.

  “So,” Santino said, “now, now what?

  “Now,” I answered, “we have a little chat with Herod.”

  ***

  “Why am I here, Jacob Hunter?” Asked the annoying voice of, for once, not Santino, but of young Titus.

  I looked at you him in frustration. “Before I answer, may I ask you something?”

  “Of course, Jacob Hunter.”

  I balled my hands into fists and started shaking them in annoyance as we walked.

  “Titus, when have I ever called you Titus Glabrio? In fact, when has anyone referred to anyone with anything but their first or their last name?” I paused, recalling old memories. “And why the hell am I the only one you do it to?”

  Titus continued looking out in front of him as we walked, ignoring me completely. I thought I saw a small smile creep onto his face, but I couldn’t be sure. Something about his attitude was suspect, and I wondered if Wang or Santino might have had something to do with it.

  “So why am I here?” Titus asked again, ignoring my tirade completely.

  “Because I thought you’d be less annoying than Santino,” I growled, “but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Then why didn’t you bring Helena? My father tells me you two are very close, but you don’t seem to spend much time together.”

  I smiled. It was nice to know he both cared about the wellbeing of Helena and me, as well as considered Vincent his father. Step-sons could be a real hassle sometimes.

  “Titus, she and I have spent almost every minute of the past four years together. That much time in such close proximity can seriously stifle any relationship, and we only just started feeling the growing pains a year ago. We’re fine now, but trust me, it’s not how much time you spend together that matters, it’s what you do with that time the counts.” I paused, shaking my head in disbelief. “I’m turning into Bordeaux…”

  “What is it you two do in your time together?” he asked squeamishly.

  For a handsome nineteen year old who didn’t speak much and seemed on the sensitive side, he was certainly asking a lot of questions about something I hadn’t thought he’d needed to talk much about.

  “That’s none of your business,” I replied jokingly. “Any particular reason for this line of questioning?”

  “No,” he said too quickly, an instant indication he was holding something back.

  “You don’t have a crush on her do you? I mean, it’s perfectly understandable, but…”r />
  “I assure you, Jacob Hunter, that is not the case. She is very beautiful, yes, but I respect your possession of her.”

  “I don’t own her,” I pointed out. “Now, she may own me, but that’s another story. So, what’s the deal? Why do you care so much? It’s just you and me. We’re off the radio. Go ahead and speak your mind.”

  It was past noon on the day after our encounter with Fadus, and Titus and I were walking through crowds of men and women, on our way to meet with Herod. While we didn’t have the direct form of backup we’d had during phase one and two of the mission, the rest of the team was surreptitiously tailing us like they always did.

  Helena and Vincent, Bordeaux and Madrina, and Wang and Santino were three pairs amongst hundreds following behind us, appearing like any other Cesarean. We decided to switch up swim pair assignments a month ago, in order to take advantage of our new comers, but even our current setup was mixed up. Officially, Wang and Santino were now paired together, keeping our best infiltrators and targets for jokes together. Titus and Bordeaux were our heavy support team. Helena and I, inseparable despite Titus’ thoughts otherwise, remained as the best sniper team ever concocted. And Vincent and Madrina were our logistics team, one handicapped, the other a noncombatant.

  The new pairs gelled perfectly, giving us a solid amount of flexibility, even if we had decided to switch them up just a bit for today.

  Titus sighed for the first time since I’d known him, the first indication that he was human after all. “No, Jacob Hunter, there is nothing to talk about.”

  “It’s about a girl, isn’t it?”

  Titus continued to ignore me.

  “Fine. I know a love sick teenager when I see one. Don’t ever say I never asked.”

  He kept on walking, apparently no longer interested in conversation. That was fine by me. The only reason I brought him along in the first place was because he was quiet, at least I thought he was, but it didn’t much matter. We wouldn’t have much time for chit chat soon enough. Herod’s residency was quickly approaching.

  Turning a corner, Titus and I came into view of a majestic building, a palace and a fortress both. It sat on a promontory that jutted out over the Mediterranean and was easily the largest habitable building in the city. Inside the courtyard sat two large statues, one I didn’t recognize, but the second was clearly that of my favorite Roman ruler, Augustus. Seeing it brought a pang of anger to me, as I knew this statue would be destroyed and lost at some point in history. As much as I hated the idea of “Rome” these days, knowing so much history and art will be lost still pained me.