The streets here were lined with stalls and kiosks, an interesting commonality amongst most ancient cities I’d visited over the years. The midday crowd was thick, as was the line of men and women waiting to enter Herod’s residence, hoping he would settle disputes between conflicting parties. It wasn’t a requirement for the King of the Jews to perform, but we’d learned that Herod apparently enjoyed the task.
In reality, his judicial power meant little in the Roman world. His decrees only went so far as to appease those concerns that did not interfere with Roman law. Since Rome wanted little to do with the religions of its protectorate constituents, especially one that only worshiped a silly, single deity, Herod mainly concerned himself with matters of religion and culture.
As for the line of waiting Jews, it extended well outside the doors of the building and into the courtyard. Noticing the crowd, I pulled up short, tossed my hands in the air and shook my head. With this many people in front of us, it could take all day before we saw Herod.
I looked over my shoulder for one of the pairs tailing us and saw Helena and Vincent stopped outside a clothing stall. Helena noticed my attention and quickly looked around in anticipation of some kind of trouble. I indicated with a quick slash of my hand that everything was fine. She nodded and blew me a peck of a kiss. I smiled at the gesture and yanked on Titus’ arm, pulling him towards the end of the line.
Thirty minutes later, I was having flashbacks to my childhood standing in line at an amusement park. Kids never really realized just how much of an inefficient use of time it was spending two hours in a line for only five minutes of payoff. It may have been a fun five minutes, but was it really worth it?
Sure it was. Rollercoasters were a blast.
I still hated lines.
Just as I felt the need to fight off a sudden angry mood swing, I saw a familiar face in the crowd.
Matthias Ben Joseph.
He was strolling through the throng of people, apparently weeding out the more urgent disputes from the lesser ones, prioritizing the cases before they went before Herod. He appeared to be placating a pair of old and wrinkly women who had been insistently screaming at each other since Titus and I found our place in the queue. He was clearly aggravated by the two old crones by the time he managed to catch my eye.
I raised an eyebrow at him and his expression lifted. He said something to the bickering grandmas and made his way to my place in the line.
“Vani,” he greeted my mostly silent companion and me. “Have you come to deal with Herod?”
“We have,” I answered. “Is there any chance you can send us to the front of the line?”
The older man looked relieved. “Of course. It will give me an excuse from dealing with these complainers.”
I had to smile. Any issue these people had that didn’t fall under Roman rule had to be about as insignificant as a single ant on an ant hill. I could only imagine the silly squabbling that occurred that led most of these people to seek solace in Herod’s power. I imagined allegations like someone picking their nose on the Sabbath had to be common in Herod’s court. Probably why men like Matthias were tasked with picking out only the most ripe of cases.
Without another word, Matthias gripped my arm and led me through the mob of people waiting outside. Passing by dozens of arguing Jews, our companion escorted us through a few quick rooms before delivering us to what looked like Herod’s courtroom.
Marble floors, a vaulted ceiling and pillars running along both sides of the room conveyed opulence and power. Mosaics covered the floor and ceilings, and the distance from the door to the only chair in the room was a good forty yards, plenty of time for an offending party to rethink their stance before being heard by the king.
I made sure to take note of any tactical amenities the room offered. The columns supported second level balconies, which had no doors, merely appearing as further decoration. The balconies gave anyone situated in them a clear view of the room below. Also, even though it was 1600, and the sun was shining brightly outside, there were deep shadows in the corners. Finally, there were only two exits, the large double doors we’d come through, and a small door in the far corner.
Twenty five yards in, I was able to make out the man I knew had to be Herod Agrippa. Known as Julius Marcus Agrippa back in Rome, or later as simply Agrippa I, he was the grandson of Herod the Great and a rather impressive ruler in his own right. I knew quite a bit about the man thanks to my study of the Julio-Claudian family, and had come to respect him as both a person and ruler.
Even though he was seated, I estimated he had to be about six feet tall. He had dark brown hair in neat curls, along with a full beard, left thick but well groomed. He had dark brown eyes that, as we drew closer, I noticed flitted about rapidly, analyzing ever detail he came across. His shallow cheeks and generous nose gave him a very distinguished look, and for once, I could honestly admit whoever did the casting in my favorite BBC miniseries I, Claudius, had got it right.
Thirty yards in, I noticed a line engraved in the floor, and figured it would probably be a good idea to stop. Kings never liked their subjects too close. Paranoid bunch. Titus, Matthias, and I performed half bows for him and waited until spoken to. The few dozen or so retainers and guards gathered around the room’s single seated occupant watched vacantly.
King Herod measured us up quickly before breathing an unimpressed sigh. I didn’t blame him. We weren’t all dressed up and ready to party right now.
“So you are these Vani I have heard so much about,” he accused in a rich, deep voice. “Most interesting. From the stories I have heard, I half expected giants, or at least a woman wearing little clothing.”
I resisted the urge to smile.
“They are,” Matthias answered for us. “This is… Burt,” he said awkwardly. “I spoke to him yesterday near the docks.”
Herod nodded in my direction. “Good. I’d hoped to meet all of you, but I understand your desire to remain secretive. Very wise. Now. What have you come to discuss with me?”
“Sir,” I began, taking a small step forward, remaining behind the line. “We have been made aware of a growing threat to your person. The Empress has ordered your assassination. It is to happen very soon.”
Herod uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands. “Is that so? How is that you have come by this information?”
“We have contacts within the Empress’ Praetorian Guard. We worked with them four years ago and have good friends in high places. The threat is very real.”
He leaned back in his seat. “So the Vani feel obligated to protect me then, is that it? As I have said, I know all about your exploits in the West, but why should I trust you? You owe me nothing.”
I stepped forward, defiantly crossing the boundary between man and king. Herod stifled at my approach, but no one made any attempt to stop me. I didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with kings. There was too much at stake to let the pomp and arrogance of a so-called monarch stand in my way.
“King Herod, please understand if we wanted to deceive you, we could have spent this afternoon having a relaxing lunch instead of warning you. Fadus is gathering his assassins as we speak. Whether you want our help or not, I would not sleep in your bed tonight.”
I turned to leave, Titus following obediently, but before we could take another step, Herod stood from his chair and reached an arm out in our direction.
“Wait.”
We turned back to face the monarch. Herod glanced at his feet in a very non-royal manner.
“As I have said, I know who you are and what you can do. Please. If you can help, I would not turn you away.”
“That is most prudent, my lord,” I replied, cringing at the overly formal title. It was hard for someone who had lived his entire life in a free world to acknowledge such a title. “They will come for you tonight. We suggest that you remain here, in your courtroom. We will be able to protect you far easier here than anywhere
else.”
Herod nodded as he retook his seat.
“Should I not just leave now before they come for me?” He asked.
I shook my head. “Not a good idea. If you leave, they’ll just hunt you down. If you hold your ground, the empress may back down.”
“What is her purpose in this?” He asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Is it not enough that she defiles our temple with a statue of her likeness, despite my pleadings otherwise? Not enough that she keeps me here as a mere figurehead with no real power? These people,” he continued, waving his hand at the window and the gathering Jews outside, “come here for nothing. All that is within my ability is to settle petty squabbles.”
“Perhaps that will change once your people see what the empress tries to do tonight,” I baited.
His head lifted and I could tell he took it. “Perhaps. I tell you, Burt, this is not at all how I imagined life would be when I lived in Rome. When I was but a child, the great Caesar Augustus himself assured me Judea would become a sovereign nation within his empire.” He frowned and lowered his head, submitting himself to the life he had been dealt. That I had dealt for him. “There are days when I miss my friends Caligula and wise Claudius. Oh, what great emperors they could have been.”
I felt my mouth twitch, but I didn’t let on like I cared. Even though I did. Once again I was reminded of what was a result of my actions.
“I’m sorry for what has befallen you here,” I consoled after forcing myself to swallow my guilt, at least for the moment.
At my words, his head straightened, and I could see his resolve tighten.
“Will it be just the two of you?” He asked, fishing himself this time.
I smiled. “Perhaps, but you won’t be seeing anyone tonight either way, but we will be there.”
And with that, I turned on my heels with the military like precision I thought I’d forgotten years ago, and marched out of the room. I couldn’t see Herod’s reaction, but I hoped he heeded my warning. Fadus’ assassins were actually coming for him. Only they wouldn’t be alone.
“So?” Titus asked, as we made our way into the crowd. “Now, now, now…”
“Shut it,” I snapped, jerking my head in his direction.
I hoped to catch some kind of reaction, but his face remained hard. I decided that I had to keep this kid away from Santino. It was clear my child-like friend was a bad influence on the personable teenager. Even I couldn’t take two Santino’s running around here.
Better play it safe and keep him away from Wang as well.
I sighed. “Now, I said, figuring I might as well play along, “we become magicians.”
***
“Tangos inbound, north north east. ETA, five mikes. Howcopy?”
“Solid copy, 8-7,” I whispered with the click of my radio. “We’re in position and ready to receive.”
True to his word, Fadus had sent his assassins. Granted, the term “assassin” was used loosely, as his agents for murder were really little more than common thugs. A procurator didn’t exactly have the resources or connections to get in touch with highly trained professionals, so he did what most Romans with deep pockets would do. He gathered up fifty or so well-known trouble makers, deviants and scumbags, paid them an extravagant amount of money and sent them on their way.
Which was perfect for us. They wouldn’t notice a few additions to their ranks.
Helena, Bordeaux, and I were camped out on the high balconies overlooking Herod’s courtroom. We’d snuck in through a small window near the back as soon as it turned dark. There wasn’t much room to maneuver on the overhang, so the three of us had spread out along the length of the courtroom, providing overlapping fields of fire.
Below us sat Herod, his two dozen loyal bodyguards and half as many employees, administrators and servants. They were gathered around a few large tables which had been brought in earlier this evening. They were munching on wine, cheese and fruit, very Roman of them, and appeared to be going over legal documents, dockets, cases, and the like. They looked nervous, and they had every right to be. The guards were tense and stiff, and Herod was clearly perspiring.
Frankly, I was still impressed they were so willing to trust us. I guess the reputation Helena, Santino and I had built over the past few years truly was one worth respecting. These people were placing their lives in our hands, and they didn’t even know we were there.
“ETA, two mikes,” Vincent updated.
He and Madrina were once again waiting outside the AO, working as our intelligence team. Santino had his UAV up and flying and Vincent was using it to track the incoming bad guys.
As for Titus, Wang and Santino, they were waiting just a few blocks away, along the mob’s projected course of entry into Herod’s compound. Their mission was to tag along with the assassins, gain entrance into the courtroom and perform a little play acting.
That put our best swordsmen in play on the ground and our best shooters up top in support. The three of us opted against our rifles, replacing them with air guns and our remaining tranquilizer darts. Most of what occurred tonight relied on theatrics, and we couldn’t overplay our hand by allowing a few overly curious inspectors discover bullet wounds.
“ETA, one mike,” Vincent reported for the last time. “Good luck.”
I sent back a double click. Vincent and Madrina would now be falling back from their lookout position, making ready our escape, just in case. We had spent considerable time hashing out this plan, and we were completely confident it would work. We had the upper hand and the enemy was dancing to our tune. Even so, I stretched my neck and tried to get comfortable. No matter how easy a mission was, the nervousness and adrenaline never left me.
I didn’t have much time to think on it as fifty eight seconds after Vincent’s transmission, a horde of malcontents burst into the courtroom. Some seemed drunk, others alert, but they were all tense and ready for a fight. They didn’t make any preamble by ordering Herod to come quietly. They simply charged forward.
Herod’s guards advanced in return, ready to meet the interlopers. As for Herod’s retinue, many fled through the small door in the back of the room, but some stayed. They armed themselves and made ready to protect their sovereign. Finally, near the rear of advancing assassins, came three other men: Santino, Titus and Wang.
They had two, very specific mission instructions.
Not to kill indiscriminately.
Ensure Herod’s survival.
They were to defend themselves if they were attacked by either side, but they had to leave people alive for when I decided the right moment had come.
Tracking my first target carefully, I fired.
My tranq dart found its target, about three men back in the advancing horde. As he stumbled and fell to the ground, many more behind him tripped over his fallen body. When the two forces met, Herod’s guards lost little ground. They were braced and well able to receive the oncoming blow that hit them in a haphazard fashion thanks to my intervention. However, once the assassins regained their footing, the tides quickly turned, and Herod’s guards were systematically pushed back.
Bordeaux, Helena, and I continued to provide fire support, but only at specific targets. We didn’t need to be too fancy. Wang and Santino were handling themselves with little problem down there. Both were more skilled with a sword than even most Romans, Wang from his martial arts training and Santino from watching too many movies. Titus, however, had learned the trade from his biological father as he matured, but had never faced combat. As we got to know him, the fact quickly became evident that while, theoretically, his skills surpassed those of any of us, there was still the question of his complete greenness in battle, but both Vincent and Helena had vouched for him. Vincent knew him better than all of us and Helena knew what it was like to be thrust into a situation with other seasoned operators, where you either had to kill or watch your new friends die. She saw in him what she had felt all those years ago: a willingness to prove himself.
So
, we only fired when we feared one of our friends were in danger. We knew the assassins would wake up sooner or later once the tranq darts wore off, but that was all part of the charade. All we needed to do was to keep it to a minimum for the time being.
The battle continued, with Herod’s side continuing to lose ground, even though our friends below had inconspicuously switched sides during the confusion of the battle and were now fighting against the assassin’s.
I decided now was a good time to do a head count. I tallied nine assassins, five guards, and three goofballs. That would have to do.
“Do it,” I said into my microphone.
There was no reply, but there was no doubt everyone received my message.
Almost immediately, Wang and Titus turned on anyone around them, creating utter chaos in the already disorderly battle. Wang skewered a guard through the right bicep, while Titus managed to nearly decapitate one of the assassins that left the man’s head dangling. Santino didn’t bother with either, instead focusing his attention solely on Herod.
The King of the Jews hadn’t sat idly by while his men defended him, but hefted sword and shield as well. It was a noble gesture, and it almost made me feel bad for what we were about to do. Santino didn’t catch the sentiment. He stalked around behind Herod as the king dueled with one of the last assassins, while Wang did his job by knocking out Herod’s dueling partner with the hilt of his sword, following it up by shoving Herod, just enough so that he faced Santino.
The man’s body turned and he immediately saw Santino looming before him. Santino face betrayed no hint of what was to come, but after performing a quick check to make sure some of the guards were watching, he plunged his sword deep into Herod’s chest.
To Crown a Caesar (The Praetorian Series: Book II) Page 30
