Praetorian Series [3] A Hunter and His Legion (16 page)

“Down, boy,” Helena said from beside me, knowing what I was thinking.

I gave her a grin but reluctantly complied.

As my small retinue made its way
up the exterior staircase, Helena covered her long, dark hair and her face with a shawl.  This wasn’t the Middle East that was so vigorously repressive of women from back home, but even these days, women weren’t necessarily welcome in male dominated places either, so while Helena’s veil wouldn’t conceal her identity as a woman completely, it would at least discourage the men from staring.

Also along for the ride were Vincent and Wang – Vincent for his
historical knowledge and Wang for his band aids, as we so often needed.

It took us nearly a full minute to make our way up the long, wide stair
case and enter the building, and the interior did not fail to impress either.  Like the nave of a great Romanesque cathedral, the library’s main anteroom was as large as it was opulent, with a vaulted ceiling, hallways that led to other rooms, and exterior porticos that dotted its perimeter and led to other buildings.  The circular interior of the large room we found ourselves in was lined with shelving ranges that created concentric rings that grew increasingly smaller as they reached the room’s center, which was dominated by a large desk that I could see through a gap in the shelves.  It was staffed by what I assumed were librarians, and I saw young pages hustling about with gathered documents and scrolls in their arms.

It was a
sight that induced real excitement, even to my cynical self.

Having worked at a library back in college, I knew something
about the inner workings of one, but seeing it on such scale here was breathtaking.  So many documents.  So many people.  So much gathered knowledge in one place.  But how many of these treasured artifacts were lost and forgotten by the time I was born?  Maybe all of them.  A simple fire could extinguish all this knowledge in the blink of the eye, something that I guess had actually happened.

What a shame
.

I frowned, but was distracted by a tall, slender librarian
approaching our position from the central desk.

“May I help you?”  He asked
, giving us an odd look.  We were in local clothing, but it was impossible for us to ever really blend in with a crowd.  We were just too weird.

“Yes,” I answered
easily.  “We’re looking for a Flavius Rumella.  Is he in today?”

The man arched an eyebrow at us almost imperceptibly
, and hesitated.

“He is… but may I
ask what this is concerning?”

“I’m sorry, but I am not at liberty to say.  A friend of mine was conducting some important research with him, and I’ve come to help.”

“I see.” His eyes narrowed and he looked about ready to turn around and leave us hanging, but then he waved for us to follow him.  “Well, do come this way.  He is in the Barbarian Mythology Research Wing, and has been there for quite some time.  He refuses to leave and often sleeps there, and we are forced to bring him food for fear that he will die there and leave a smell.  I am not too sure how keen he will be to receive guests.”

“We’ll take our chances.”

The man hummed dismissively, and I glanced at Helena, whose bright green eyes suggested amusement.  She jerked her head in his direction and we hurried to catch up.

Once we left the central atrium, t
he trip lasted a few minutes, with nothing but hundreds of thousands of scrolls and studious men intent on reading every single one lining every nook and cranny in the place, including the hallways.  We continued through a second scroll laden hallway before entering another large circular atrium, although it wasn’t nearly as big as the main one.  I’d thought we’d arrived when the librarian continued his path around to the right and down yet another hallway before depositing us into a square room the size of a small gymnasium.

The librarian held out a hand and beckoned us in.

“The Barbarian Mythology Research Wing,” he reported.

There must have been another ten thousand scrolls in this room.

“All of this is just for ‘barbarian’ mythology?”  I asked.

The librarian smiled.  “Oh no.  Certainly not.  This room merely contains the recorded information we possess on the mythologies of Rome’s northern neighbors.  Mostly
Celtic, but some Germanic and Sarmatian as well.  It is actually one of our smaller collections, but no less important I assure you.  The other wing is comprised of mostly Egyptian lore, and we have entire buildings dedicated to Roman and Greek mythology nearby.”

I turned to give him an amused look.  “Shouldn’t Roman mythology be in the barbarian wing too?”

He snapped his head up and sniffed derisively at me, turned on his heels, and stormed out of the room without another word.

“What was that about, Hunter?”  Archer asked, watching him go.

I smiled.  “The Greek word for “barbarian” really means little more than, ‘those who don’t speak Greek.’  People in modern times obviously think of barbarians as something more…
barbaric
than just that, but Romans generally use the word with only its original meaning.  I just find it funny how they always try to lump themselves in with the Greeks, even though they’re a different culture completely, and while I’m sure most of the guys here speak Greek, your general Roman citizen certainly does not.  It’s funny.”

Archer clearly didn’t seem to understand what was so funny about it, but while Vincent looked humored by my comment, he shook his head
at me.

“What?”  I asked him.

“Jacob, you don’t speak Greek either.”

“Yeah…
but… “I tried to think of a counter argument, “…well, at least I don’t go around calling people barbarians.”

He smiled and nodded humorously at my point as Helena grabbed my arm and pulled me along behind her.

“Christ, let’s just find Rumella already!”  She cried.

I
chuckled and fell into step behind her, but it wasn’t long before we stumbled upon the only occupant currently residing within the dusty and exceptionally musty room.  There must have been mold lurking in this place as well because I suddenly felt my sinuses acting up.  As for the man, he was hunched over a document, holding a candle to enhance the dim natural light that was leaking through an open window.  He didn’t even flinch at our arrival, so I cleared my throat to get his attention.  He jumped at the noise and immediately looked annoyed.

“I told you, I am not finished yet!  I don’t have time to inventory the east wing of the Scipio Africanus collection.  I am too busy for such nonsense.”

The collection on Scipio Africanus alone required more than one wing?

Goodness.

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “I believe you have us confused with someone who actually works here.  We’re looking for Flavius Rumella and were directed here.”

The man looked at us with a gaunt and
lined face.  His eyes were small and sat recessed deep within their sockets, and his expression looked tired and weak, but masked in a thick, gray beard.  He was a small man as well, with boney arms.

“I am Flavius Rumella
,” he indicated.  “Who are you?”

“We’re friends of Marcus Va…”

“Jacob Hunter!?”  He asked excitedly, shooting to his feet in a way that contradicted his age.  “Is that you?”

“Well, yes
, actually.  It’s nice to meet y…”

“Never mind that!”  He yelled excitedly.  “Do you have it?  Do you have it?”

I glanced at Vincent and then Helena before back at Rumella.  “Have what?”

“The orb of course!  Remus’ orb!”

I stood there in a state of shock.  How could this tertiary, red-shirt character whom I’d just met know about such an integral plot detail?

“And what exactly do you know about that?”  I asked suspiciously.

“Know?” He repeated.  “Why, I know everything about it, Jacob Hunter.  Everything!”

***

I paused cautiously.

Nope.  Not buying it.

“If Varus told you of me,” I started, “you should already know that I am not one for hyperbole, so you’d better start at the beginning.”

“Of course!”
The old historian cried.  “But where are my manners, please sit down.  Would you like refreshment?”

“We’re fine,” I said
, taking a seat while the rest of my troupe settled in around me.  I gestured in their direction.  “These are my friends: Helena, Vincent, Archer, and Wang.”

The old man blinked rapidly at
the oddity of their names, and his jaw dropped at Helena as she removed the shawl from around her head.  He quickly recovered and coughed into his hand.

“Charmed
,” he said with a weak bow in her direction.  “You must forgive my reaction, miss, but there aren’t many women who visit the great library.”

“That’s because your society is too busy repressing them and keeping them from growing brains of their own,” Helena countered darkly.

“That is in fact not true,” Rumella disputed without missing a beat.  “In fact, any good historian would tell you that women have played an integral part in singlehandedly turning the tides of destinies and empires.  Women have always been, in fact, exceptionally keen, and history is remembered as it is due in large part to their contribution.  Take Livia, Augustus’ wife.  She…”

I had to smile at Helena
as Rumella went on.

I wasn’t sure if she’d
been trying to legitimately scold the man, but he had deflected her comments quite easily, an impressive feat, since most men who encountered Helena’s scorn usually came out of it flustered or confused.

I
continued listening to Rumella speak of Livia, a topic I could listen to all day, but Helena glared at him angrily, and he quickly got the message and trailed off.

“Still…
” Rumella said, clearing his throat, “…you do make a valid point that many women are not educated as well as they should be.  A few may become learned individuals, some pursuing their studies even here, but there is a reason why they are discouraged from a life of scholarly pursuit; for it is the foolish man who does not fear the day when women are as evenly educated as they are, as women would certainly then no longer have a need for man, and the world would most likely be better for it.”

He smiled
at Helena and she smiled back, twisting her head around toward me and holding out a finger in his direction.  “I think I like this guy.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” I said, directing my attention
back to Rumella as I lowered her hand to the table for her.  “So, about the orb…”

“Yes, yes,” he said quickly
, finally taking his own seat, “I was just getting to that.  It all started when young Varus came to the Great Library just five months ago.  He spent an enormous amount of time here in this section reading everything he could, but the exciting work was not begun until two months later.

“Now, y
ou must understand, this portion of the library does not receive much attention.  There is not much scholarly work left to be done on barbarian mythologies, nor was there ever much to begin with, so it was to my great surprise that I found someone so willing to spend such an inordinate amount of time here.”

“I see,” I
said.  “So you just took it upon yourself to find out what Varus was working on?”

“There was nothing malic
ious about it, I assure you.  I am simply a curious old fellow, and have become quite interested in oddities in my old age, and this room is filled with many.”

“Had you already heard of Remus’ orb before and suspected a connection?”  Vincent asked quickly.

“Are you joking, sir?  No one had heard of Remus’ orb except Varus and anyone else you’ve told.  It is an oddity to displace all oddities.  The ultimate mystery.  And it has overwhelmed my life ever since Varus invited me to help him in his research.”

I cleared my throat.
  “Rumella, I think you should know that Varus is dead.”

He stared at me blankly.
  “Truly?”

“Yes.”

“Such a shame,” he said as he shook his head.  “Such a fine scholar.  A man with his finger on the tip of a true discovery, not the nonsense the men outside endlessly debate.  He was a brilliant man.  I… I shall miss him.”

“So will I,” I said
softly.

Helena took that moment to jump in, cutting the tension.
“He died getting us the information we needed to find you.”

“Then his death was not wasted,” Rumella said triumphantly.  “Now that you are here, Jacob Hunter, all will be revealed, and we will work on getting you and yours home.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Rumella,” I said.

“
I know not what the shit of bulls has to do with your predicament, but I assure you, I speak the truth.”

“So let’s get started then,” I said.

Rumella sighed and glanced out the window where dusk had fallen.  I hadn’t even noticed, nor had I seen the staff members that must have surreptitiously swept through the room minutes ago, lighting the dozen or so candles here.