The Last Roman (The Praetorian Series - Book I) by Edward Crichton
***
Three weeks later, I was still waiting for Caligula to send for me. Within that time I had learned a very important fact of life: Santino was much more boring to be around when he didn’t have any material to work with, and a depressed squad member and his equally sarcastic best friend don’t offer much material. So I spent most of my time exploring the city on my own.
I couldn’t believe how much I missed Helena.
Now, that would have sounded sappy and pathetic had we been dating, but we weren’t, so it wasn’t, thus making me feel only partially pathetic. I just hoped my friends in the field were all right, particularly her.
I thought I was about to go insane from boredom when I was finally summoned by Caligula. I was escorted by two of the original Praetorians who’d led us to the Curia the day we arrived. Gaius and Marcus were their names, but I had to constantly remind myself which was which because they were practically carbon copies of one another. Even so, with Vincent’s help, I’d gotten to know them fairly well over the past month. We’d taken to each other like any group of professional military men would.
Nice fellas.
The Praetorians took me within the bounds of the pomerium to one of Rome’s numerous libraries. The exterior facade looked magnificent, but once inside I found myself in a dimly lit, dust covered room, overcrowded with information decaying from mold. It was a far cry from the snazzy library I’d worked in on my college campus, but the musty facility made my inner historian feel like a kid on Christmas morning. The place was a gold mine. Besides the hundreds of scrolls lying on what looked like modern day wine cellar shelves and tables with documents sprawled everywhere, I spotted the slinky man from the cavern I had seen almost a month ago.
Finally. Time to get some answers.
Noticing our approach, he nodded to the guards. They replied by performing an about face and marched out of the room, leaving the two of us alone. For the longest time, we just stood there measuring one another up before he started things off.
“My name is Marcus Varus. And you do not belong here.”
I stepped closer to the man, hoping my size would intimidate him to the point where he’d be too scared to screw with to me. Barely a forearm’s length away, the man held his ground and didn’t so much as blink, as he waited patiently for me to speak up.
I ground my teeth in annoyance. “You can call me Hunter, and what do you mean?”
“Just what I said. Your presence here is a mistake and you must go home.”
I just stared at him, my patience already wearing thin. That sentence was confusing enough without the added stress of what I thought he said. Too many ablatives. Or were those datives? I always got hung up on the grammar.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly straightened my back, raised my chin up, and pulled my shoulders back. I didn’t have to do it too often these days, but pulling myself into perfect military posture gave me a sense of purpose, not to mention a few extra inches which demanded respect, something this little man did not show much of toward me.
I loomed over him with my additional inches, effectively enhancing the image that I was far larger than I really was. “I don’t have time for twenty questions,” I said grimly. “Now, how do I get home?”
The man was finally intimidated. Taking a step back, his throat visibly gulped. “Well, I’m not sure,” he said, his words stammering indecisively. “What I do know is that those who opened the doorway thought they would find vast amounts of treasure. Not human beings. Especially not ones like you.”
“What do you mean, ‘the doorway?’ Did it have anything to do with that sphere?” I couldn’t think of the Latin word for sphere or ball, so I just mimicked its shape with my hands. The doorway he was referring to must have meant the portal that sucked us through time. My limited vocabulary was going to make this hard enough without Vincent, and trying to determine archaic terms, and convert them into colloquialisms I could understand would be another, much harder task.
The man just nodded at my question, wandering aimlessly around the room before he settled into a chair behind a table. His eyes moved toward the floor, and he seemed lost in thought. Maybe he was just trying to bullshit his way out of this so I didn’t kill him, but then why bring me here at all?
“Look,” I said holding out my hands. “Just calm down. Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out. We’ll work this out together and maybe I can help you get me out of your life.”
The man perked up at that. We’d only known each other five minutes, but it was clear he wanted nothing to do with me. Hopefully, the potential for me leaving was enough incentive to get him to work that much harder, and get me home.
So he talked.
And talked.
Unlike Vincent, who spent as few words as necessary to get his points across, Varus had a knack for allegory and long winded descriptions, for which he provided no context. Of course, that was probably the language barrier’s fault, but it still took him fifteen minutes to get to the part about documents found with the sphere, finally getting to something useful.
Helena would have killed him.
“So, when I was presented with the sphere and documents, I immediately got to work translating them,” Varus continued. “They are written in an old dialect of Etruscan. I am one of very few people who can still read it.”
“Can you date them?” I asked.
“I can only extrapolate its origin from the context of the writings themselves. From that context, I have surmised that this document may have been written by Remus himself, or someone working closely with him. Are you aware of who Remus was?”
Remus? Co-founder of Rome? Of course I knew him. If what Varus said was true, the sphere would be one Rome’s oldest relics. I had to make sure I played it off cool.
“I have heard of him in passing. What else did they say?”
“Not very much, unfortunately. It spoke of how he knew of his brother’s plot to murder him, and that he had known about the plot for many weeks. Fearful that he would be unable to thwart his brother’s attempt on his life, he sought help from some sort of adviser. Apparently, this friend was a druid from the north, a very powerful one, who, as the document indicates, possessed great power and abilities over nature. The result of which, appears to be the blue sphere.”
“Magic?” I asked. Even though I had suggested it myself a month ago, I never really believed it. “You’re joking, right??
“I, too, find the subject distasteful and hard to believe. And yet, here you are.”
True. At least we agreed on something, and he did make a good point.
“So what does it do?” I asked. “Exactly.”
“Besides bring annoying plebeians to my door in search of my aid?”
As we had moved our conversation to chairs, seated across from a table, I couldn’t impose my height over the man. Instead, I leaned back in my chair, and put my hands behind my head. Wearing a tight, short sleeved t-shirt, I flexed my biceps, which, I had to give myself credit for, were in pretty darn good shape. He looked at my arms, and then at my face, before continuing.
“Does everything come down to physical violence with you? Are you just like those thousands of legionnaires who have nothing better to do than kill each other and fight in the dirt like children?”
I gave him a smile. “Of course. But I can make a swell turn-over cake as well.”
He looked at me, obviously not understanding the reference. Frustration and annoyance obvious on his face, he picked up where he left off. “Apparently, the sphere was meant as a gateway to a vast treasure and the downfall of those who uphold the legacy of Remus’ brother, Romulus. The Senate, I believe, felt that by treasure Remus meant money, and of course, with enough money anything can be accomplished. I can only imagine their surprise when you and your friends arrived instead.”
“But why is it that we came here at all? Nothing happened until I t
“There was an obscure mantra at the bottom of the document, nearly indecipherable. What I could make out of it said something along following, ‘the gateway shall bring treasure of unfathomable power. Once the relic has felt the touch from my loins, all the power of our descendants shall become theirs.’ There is more, of course, but from what I gather, it would seem that perhaps those who are blood kin to Remus have the ability to utilize the sphere. But I do not understand what role you play, as it would seem it was only the two of us who came in contact with the sphere. I know the Senate’s lackeys kept it wrapped in a cloth. Yet, the two of us cannot be related. My family has always been very small. ”
I barely heard anything past, “Senate’s lackeys…” my mind completely focused on the table, deep in thought. Everything was starting to fall into place. I only needed one last piece of evidence to prove my train of thought.
I looked up and began a thorough inspection of Varus’ face.
After two thousand years I had little hope of finding any similarities between the two of us. The differences alone were enough to dissuade any further inspection, but I was persistent. The man was short, whereas I was tall. He had black hair, instead of my brown, his face was round, mine was lean and hard. We didn’t share a single similarity.
Except for one.
There it was. Staring right back at me. His eyes were nearly identical to mine. Inquisitive, just as Pope Gregory had said, with the same shade of ambiguous gray that could look either blue or green depending on our surroundings.
I got them from my mom.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to confirm the definite possibility that he may be some long lost ancestor of mine. It wouldn’t be enough in a court of law, but it was something. I was astonished. But then something else hit me. One would think meeting a two thousand year old ancestor would be enough fun for one night, but if Varus was reading the document correctly, not only was he a ancestor of mine, but we were both direct descendants of Remus.
Now that fact definitely struck a chord. A direct descendent of Remus?
Awesome.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The sheer amount of family trees that spider webbed down the millennia was amazing. It made the possibility that everyone in the 21st century was descended from somebody famous very likely. If you truly took your Bible to heart, one would argue that we were all cousins, descended from Adam and Eve.
I hadn’t even known Remus had any children. It was always my impression that he and his brother were barely out of their teenage years before Remus was killed, but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe Vincent can fill me in on the details later. What I did know was that their mother, Rhea, bore them not by any human father, but by the god, Mars. That was just a myth, of course, but it would certainly explain my own absolute awesomeness, not to mention my gray eyes. Mar’s sister was Minerva, or Athena in Greek, and was regularly referred to as “Gray-eyed Athena” in mythology.
I’m going to choose to believe the god/eye color similarity had to be a coincidence.
Yah. A coincidence. I wasn’t even going to touch on that one.
I continued to stare into the eyes of my great times a thousand grandfather or uncle, and frowned. I had always hoped to be descended from a Roman, but I had always wanted him to have been a bad ass centurion, leading men into combat and dying for glory, not some bookish nerd. Granted, as Santino so astutely pointed out, I was pretty much a big nerd at heart as well.
“Any of your family in the army?” I asked him.
“No. Why?”
Damn.
I was about to ask him what he made of all of this when his eyes widened, and he quickly stood up, his head bowing reverently. Surprised at his sudden change in attitude, I glanced over my shoulder to see another man enter the room. He was tall, blond, handsome, and had the same short, curly haired hair cut Julius Caesar had made so popular. It was the man I’d seen at the Circus maximus. The one I’d skeptically deduced as Claudius.
I rose as well, and bowed my head just to fit in.
The man smiled a smile I determined lacked any kind of warmth or genuine happiness. The sinister kind. He held out his hands, a failed attempt at friendliness. There was something about him that immediately made him unlikable.
“Varus,” the man said, stepping forward to embrace him in a bear hug. “My friend. How good to see you. It has been awhile since I have seen you in the library.”
“Yes, well, my duties to your nephew have kept me fairly occupied these past few months.”
His nephew? This had to be Claudius. I couldn’t believe it. I had never, not once, read an account of the man that didn’t claim he was weak, feeble, and prone to stutters and twitches. He was a lame ugly duckling, not a stud quarter back! Who was this man?
He continued to smile. “And I see you have made a new friend. Please, no need to get up,” he said cheerily, even though I was already standing. “Any friend of Varus is a friend of mine. I am Caligula’s uncle, Claudius”
“He is no friend of mine,” rumbled Varus.
Claudius ignored him. “Besides, I know you are one of the strangers who came through Remus’ gateway. Now, that is reason enough to get to know you.”
His smile was beginning to irritate me. Unlike Santino’s, whose smile was always filled with good cheer and fun, annoyingly so, Claudius’ merely disturbed me. He also knew about Remus’ message, which only made me more suspicious, because it was quite well known back home that Claudius was one of those few people Varus mentioned who could read Etruscan as well.
I decided to play dumb. “Yes, I am one of the few who came through the gateway. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” I opened my arms in a mirror gesture of his own. “Is there anything we can do for you?”
“Oh, no. I just wanted to meet you. Your potential is limitless. I want you to know that you can come to me for anything, and to ask that perhaps you may do some things for me, as your friends have done for my nephew?”
This was getting weirder by the second. The guy was coming off as heartwarming as even the most black hearted and malevolent of bad guys. They always start off all warm and fuzzy until they stick a shiv in your back, and you end up having to wait until the last ten minutes of the movie to save the day – only having already lost your family, girlfriend, best friend, and dog along the way.
I wasn’t about to let that happen.
“I’ll certainly keep that in mind,” I replied, trying to sound sincere. “My schedule is wide open.”
Claudius frowned for a brief moment before smiling again, finally understanding my joke.
“Humorous. Now, if you will excuse me. I have matters to attend to.”
As the man turned, his traveling cloak swirled behind him in that bad-guy kind of way. He was gone a few seconds later.
I snorted. “Quite the character, isn’t he?”
Varus smiled. “I’ve never liked him. He spends much of his time here reading history and spending many hours wasting my time. The man loves to listen to himself speak. It was through him that I learned the Senate had plans to utilize Remus’ orb, which is why I ended up there when you arrived. I can’t be sure, but it seemed as though he had something to do with it, and that his knowledge of the plot was not because he had simply overheard another’s conversation.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise me, but I didn’t let my suspicion show. I couldn’t understand why the man wasn’t the sharp minded, but weak bodied man he was supposed to be. My mind kept wandering to the old BBC production of I, Claudius that I loved so much, and how well I thought the actor who played Claudius had done in mimicking his mannerisms.
Suddenly my suspicions started to grow. History, after all, was written by the victors, and it was none other than Claudius himself who succeeded Caligula after his assassination.