Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome (59 page)

I didn’t move.  I didn’t react.  I didn’t judge. I didn’t care.  I simply stood there and stared at what had once been a conniving, shameful, evil woman… and a loving mom.  I stood there for many seconds, many minutes, God knew how many before an individual stepped up beside me, reached for my hand, and gripped it tightly.

“Why did you wait so long?”  I asked her.

“I wanted her to know it was coming,” Helena responded without emotion, her eyes staring down at Agrippina’s lifeless corpse.  “I know it’s wrong that I wanted to do it so badly, but I didn’t care anymore.  I’m just glad
you
didn’t do it, Jacob.  If you were at all still under control of the orb, you would have.”  She paused for a moment while she reached up to brush away a tear, but then she didn’t seem able to control herself anymore and she threw her arms around my neck and clung to me.  “You’re free of it, Jacob!  Free of
her
!  Of all of it!  Thank Christ, Jacob, it’s over!  It’s all finally over…”

Helena couldn’t continue logically from that point onward, but I didn’t need her to.  I understood where her elation came from, on every level I could think of, but I still couldn’t bring myself to celebrate.  As I glanced down at Agrippina’s headless body, amazed that she’d died with her dress covering her entire body, more humble in death than she’d ever been in life, I couldn’t help but wonder what the cost of such a victory had been.

Archer’s life had been the cost of victory.

Artie had been the cost of victory.

I still didn’t know if she was dead or simply trapped, or perhaps stuck wandering the Multiverse like in some silly episode of
Sliders
.  Remus could have killed her the instant they’d gone to the other side, wherever that was, or she could be on the move somehow.  The worst part was that I simply didn’t know. I may never know. Unless she returned, I’d be forced to live out my days not knowing, replete with the knowledge that Artie had, basically, just taken a bullet for me.  She’d sacrificed herself for me.  She’d done what I had been supposed to do, what I’d planned to do as a way out of my own miserable life.

But now what was I left with?

Life, I supposed, one that I couldn’t possibly squander if I wanted to honor her memory.  I
had
to live now.  I had to make a future from the ashes of this run down body and broken mind filled with memories I wished I could forget.  It was something that would take a lot of work, but it had to be done now.

Goddamn it, Diana.

She’d done it completely on purpose.  I wanted to hate her for it, but I couldn’t.  I could never hate her.  I’ll love her forever for it.

She’d better be all right.

“What now?”  Helena asked as she managed to push herself away from me, her eyes more red than green around her tears.  “What do we do about Diana?”

“There’s nothing we can do.  She’s on her own,” I said, choosing my words purposefully, dedicating myself to never giving up hope that I’d see her again.  “She’ll have to find her own way back.”

“John’s not going to be very happy,” Helena said sadly.

“A lot of people aren’t going to be very happy,” I said.  “More people than you or I will ever know, I suspect.”

“What about you?”  She asked, reaching up a hand to rub my neck.  “How do you feel?  You seem okay.”

I nodded.  “Only because I’ll never give up hope she’s still alive out there.  I can’t.”

Helena looked at the ground, apparently accepting this answer.  “And us?”  She asked as she glanced up slowly, as though dreading the response.  “Can we go home?”

I took in a deep breath and turned so I could wrap her up in a hug.  I rested my head against the side of her own and closed my eyes.  “Not yet.  There’s still a few things left to do.”

XII

Farewells

August, 44 A.D.

Rome, Italy

Jacob Hunter

Today was my birthday.

Over three weeks had passed since the incident between Romulus and Remus, and while the city was still recovering, physically, emotionally, and mentally, it had been a time of relative peace for my friends and me, a tranquility that would come to an end today, on this most appropriate of days – considering how much I hated birthdays.

I’d spent most of the morning contemplating the time since the last anniversary of my birth, and the events that had filled it.  I’d practically circumnavigated the entirety of Rome’s vast empire, going from Byzantium, to Caesarea, to Alexandria, and to Britain before ending up in Rome, where this whole ordeal had started countless years ago.  Since the beginning, three Caesars had died, two emperors and a single empress, wars had begun, wars had ended, rebellions had threatened to tear the Roman Empire to pieces, and rebellions had slowly been quelled.  And at the tail end of all that, two twin brothers who had drifted apart in both time and space, had managed to see the glory of their undertakings for themselves, only to have it all swept away in completely different ways.

Romulus and Merlin were gone.  While I had the orbs and could certainly check in on them and confirm that to be true, everything I’d learned in the past year led me to believe that such a thing shouldn’t be done.  Having power didn’t equate the need to use it.  Caesar Augustus could have taught me that, not Merlin, but the lesson had been learnt regardless.

Artie and Remus were also gone, to the edge of the universe for all I knew.  Trapped, lost, wandering, dead, I didn’t know, but something told me they were both alive, somewhere, doing something, just waiting to be found.  Even when we finally went home and I saw my actual sister again, I would miss Artie 2.0.  They hadn’t been the same woman.  In fact, in the time since meeting Artie 2.0, I’d come to see them as complete and total individuals, and I loved them both dearly, and would miss the one I’d lost immensely.

Archer was dead, a loss no one seemed particularly upset about, except for me, oddly enough.  Santino had recently told me what he’d done: slipping the orb into my bunk over a year ago to see what it would do to me.  He’d mentioned how no one had even known about it until very recently, all except Artie who’d confided in Santino the night before we’d taken down Remus, as though she’d known what was going to happen and had prepared for her own disappearance or death. 

I should have been furious over Archer’s betrayal, but, oddly, I wasn’t.  I no longer cared about past mistakes.  I was finished with my old life of pining over them and worrying about the repercussions and how much I’d been responsible for.  Now, it seemed best just to accept them, learn from them, and move on.  And I still couldn’t be sure that had Archer not done what he’d done, that life would have turned out any better.  And in the end he’d redeemed himself, and that was all I cared about now.

Such thoughts may have seemed odd to an outsider when considering that I was now a man who could in fact control all of time and space – with some spatial restrictions, of course – but that once nagging responsibility over the past had instead transitioned into a kind of vigilant stewardship of the future.  Past mistakes and blunders were just those, and lessons should be heeded, but the future was something that needed to be preserved, as it truly was a fragile, fickle thing. 
That
was my responsibility now, as were the orbs, which had been entrusted to me as though they were my wards.

And, at least so far, it wasn’t too bad of a job.

Time travel was so passé now, years out of trend, like bell-bottom jeans by the mid-eighties, and it had been pretty easy to resist using them.  I kept them close, however, and always together.  I didn’t want to think of what could happen to me if someone accidentally or intentionally removed the red orb from my presence, leaving me alone with the blue one again.  It was a situation just ripe for disaster, but I didn’t have much of a choice, and it would be something I’d have to figure out a solution to once we returned home.

I couldn’t just hand them over, even to the pope, but I wasn’t sure hanging onto them forever was an equally viable option either.  I guess I’d have to cross that bridge when I reached it, and hopefully be able to burn it down to ashes behind me once I safely reached the other side.  Too much was at stake, including my sanity, the remaining bits of it being something I very much wanted to maintain as long as I could.

But today was my birthday, and such concerns could be forgotten.  We were very nearly at the end of our journey now, and as was appropriate on an individual’s birthday, I was about to receive a present.  Not just one present, but two, in the form of a pair of burly individuals, Romans by birth, generals by upbringing, just a pair of good men with large axes to grind, against me, against each other, and against the establishment. 

Luckily, if I had anything to do with it, all of that would come to an end today.

I was in the
Curia
, Rome’s quite beautiful senate building.  I’d only been here once before, on the day I’d arrived in Ancient Rome, where Vincent and I had been brought before Caligula, who had instantly taken a liking to us.

Something told me that my visitors today wouldn’t do the same.

The building’s interior, the senate hall itself, was large and rectangular, with three wide steps on either side of the room that could seat individuals.  Occasionally, these long steps were adorned with seats that senators could sit on, but often, like now, they were left bare and used as long benches.  Hundreds could fit in the space, although only a handful occupied it now.

There was me, of course, seated at the far end of the rectangular room and on the only chair in the house – the one meant for the reigning emperor – and scattered throughout the room like loyal fans two hours deep in a rain delay at a baseball game were the rest of my friends.  Flanking me stood Gaius and Marcus.  They cut sharp figures in their armor, freshly polished and repaired after the battle against Remus. 

After the conflict, I’d later learned that both men had in fact done far more to ensure a positive outcome than I’d first expected, as they had wrangled many Praetorians to our cause, using them to deflect rioting civilians and enemy Praetorians alike from encroaching on the wedding venue.  Once the dust had settled, they’d then tasked all those remaining Praetorians in a city wide cleanup operation that was still in progress.

But much could change in the course of three weeks, as life had quickly returned to normal, complacency had once again set in, and Rome’s everyday citizenry had all but forgotten about the rampaging demigods that had terrorized Rome mere weeks ago, and with Agrippina dead, buried, and gone, the contingent of Praetorians left in the city were under new management, which meant a less intrusive police presence, fewer patrols and arrests, and an all-around cheerier disposition.  They had no emperor or empress to protect – for the moment – but under Gaius and Marcus’ supervision, were maintaining their discipline as they remained in a holding pattern until further developments unraveled.

Developments that included the two other individuals who had just entered the
Curia
, who walked shoulder to shoulder between the rows of benches that led to my position.  They wore their armor, sans weaponry, and neither one seemed particularly pleased to be in the presence of the other.  Servius Galba and Titus Flavius Vespasianus, known to his friends in the modern era as Vespasian, were a mismatched pair in both appearance and general outlook on life, and while I was certain neither would outright kill me once they finally stood before me, one of them was bound to snap, although I wasn’t sure which one would do it first.

“Remove yourself from that throne!”  Galba yelled, his finger pointing in my direction, still a dozen or so steps away.

I glanced up at Marcus and smirked.  “You were right.  It wouldn’t have been much of a bet.”

He smiled but didn’t shift his attention away from the approaching men.

“Calm down,” I said, raising a hand to quell Galba’s anger, but then waved it at him indifferently, “I don’t plan to stay here long.  This chair is too uncomfortable.”

“It is meant to be,” Vespasian commented as he came to a stop just a few feet away, clasping his hands together behind his back.  “It would be in poor taste to let the Caesars fall asleep during senate meetings.”

“Well,” I said, straightening my posture and sitting up, “it’s a good thing then that the only Caesar left still takes regular naps.  Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yes,” Vespasian said evenly, glancing quickly at Galba who stood with his shoulders hunched, breathing heavily.  “We wished to speak with you concerning the fate of Agrippi…”

“She’s dead,” I said sharply.  “Unfortunately, her head is in a million pieces, so you’ll just have to take our word for it.”

“That wasn’t what we wanted,” Vespasian remarked.  “We wanted you to capture her, let her stand trial for her crimes, allow for due process…”

“Listen,” I said, cutting him off.  “She’s gone, buried, and done with, and what’s done is done.  You want to take it out on someone, take it out on Helena.  She’s the one who killed her.  You remember Helena, right?  She’s the one who was nearly murdered a number of times by Agrippina and was the mother of a newborn baby who
was
murdered when Agrippina poisoned her while still pregnant with him.  Remember her?”

Vespasian and Galba both looked to their right, toward Helena who sat close by.  They didn’t say anything and neither did she, although she kept her hand firmly placed on her pistol and stared at the two like an apex predator ready for a hunt.  The two generals looked away, glanced at each other with hints of nervousness, and turned back to me.

“Unnecessary,” Vespasian announced.  “We have no doubt that she earned her grave, but there is also the question of what occurred when she was killed.  We have been hearing many strange rumors about divine beings many claim to have been Romulus and Remus, our legendary progenitors, fighting one another and destroying half the city in the process.  What say you to these rumors?  Are they true?  Years ago I would not have believed them outright, but since meeting you, Jacob Hunter, I will believe anything.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  Vespasian offered me a look of confusion but I lifted a hand to indicate I would explain.  “I’m sorry.  I wasn’t laughing at you.  It’s just that I still often forget how slow news travels around here.  Back home, the entire city would have been able to capture the entire ordeal on little devices in the palms of their hands and share it with the entire world in a heartbeat.  There’s little room for rumors there.”

He shook his head.  “I do not understand.  What are you speaking…?”

I waved a hand at him.  “Forget about it.  And forget about the rumors.  Trust me, you don’t want to know what really happened.  Like Agrippina, it’s behind us now.  Done and done.  The only thing left to do is plan for the future.”

Galba actually growled at me then.  “Which had better include your removal from that thr…”

“Relax, Galba,” I said, finally standing and stepping away from the chair.  “I was only sitting there because Santino thought it’d be funny.”

Galba craned his neck back and to the left, and looked at the man in question who sat atop the highest bench in the room, well and away from us.  He smiled and waved back.  It was classic Santino, but it was clear his heart wasn’t completely into it.  He was still upset over Artie’s loss and while he had slowly begun to accept my hope that she was still alive and could show up at any time, he wasn’t quite ready to move on.  I’d been surprised by my friend’s reaction.  All reports had indicated that they had grown close in my absence, but no one had mentioned anything else besides them just being friends.

I shrugged internally as I thought about them, happy Artie had found someone to rely on in my absence and equally happy that she’d apparently tamed the primal beast within Santino, but also saddened by their separation.  Their loss of each other seemed to cut even deeper than my own feelings concerning Artie’s disappearance.

After only a second, Galba turned back to me, his face mildly amused.  “He always was quite amusing,” Galba said.  “Not actually
funny
but his antics never failed to amuse.”

I scrunched my nose and nodded in agreement.  “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Indeed…” Galba said distantly, “…but tell me, Jacob Hunter, if you haven’t in fact staged a coup and have been ruling Rome as an usurper, who has?”

I shrugged, as though the answer was obvious.  “Who do you think?  Nero, of course.”

Galba literally choked on his answer, but Vespasian was much quicker to recover from his shock.  “But he is just a boy.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but he’s also Agrippina’s only heir.  In fact, he’s the only Caesar left after she cleaned house.  He…”

“But…” Galba sputtered, finally coming to his sense, “…he’s just a boy!”

“Uh… yeah,” I said as I hooked a thumb at Vespasian, “your buddy over there just said that.  Now let me finish, because you’re going to love this part.  Nero is Agrippina’s heir, we all know that, but he’s also underage and can therefore not legally take on the role of emperor.  In fact, as you already well know, Agrippina was only empress because she was simply filling the role in the interim while young Nero reached the appropriate age.  Once he…”