Edward Crichton - To Crown a Caesar

She didn’t interrupt me as she sat there, her arms still folded, her expression unchanged, so I pressed on. “Put everything aside except Caligula. What about him? He’s proof everything we do here can change history. Without a competent emperor doing competent things for the next fifteen years, things will go from bad to worse.”

She almost laughed. “Anything can happen in fifteen years. Even if you are right, that’s a long time for someone to avoid an accident, fail to make enemies, do something stupid, or have a change of heart.”

“And you’re willing to just let…” I cringed at the word I had to use, “ fate right all our wrongs for us?”

“Call it faith, Jacob. One man can’t change the fate of the entire world on his own.”

I came up short with my next reply. It was a profound sentiment, one that made almost too much sense, but as much as I wanted to believe her, I couldn’t.

Just as I opened my mouth to answer, Santino meandered into the tavern with his young barmaid on his arm. She left him with a kiss and made her way back to her duties while he moved over to our table.

“Can you try to trust me just a little bit longer, Helena?”

She didn’t answer.

Santino sat down and put his booted feet up on the table. “So? What’d I miss?”

“Bordeaux decided to help us,” I reported while Helena looked away. “He’s going to find Wang and Vincent and meet us back here in a few months.”

“Let me guess. He bought into your whole, ‘save the universe’ plan, eh?”

“Actually, he did. I’ve always liked him.”

“You like anybody who agrees with you.”

I glanced at Helena. “Yeah, I guess I do. But who wouldn’t?”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Screw things up even more,” Helena mumbled under her breath, and I couldn’t help but wonder, somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, if she was right.

On the second morning after our meeting with Bordeaux, we headed north, following the Rhone River before turning east, looking for the Rhine. The past few nights with Helena had been awkward, but so had the past few months. No further attempts to discuss our issues had arisen, but our bed had been shared like two boyhood friends forced to sleep in the same bed by an overbearing mother. Once on the road, the three of us traveled in silence, the distance between us greater than ever, but we were professionals. We spent the time analyzing all the available intelligence we had on Rome’s military situation.

Word on the street was that Vespasian had been appointed to the rank of legate, and sent to serve under another Roman during the campaign in Britannia with the Legio II Augusta . The rumors indicated that he had performed well in Britannia, more so than expected, and it hadn’t been long before he was granted another commission, and an army of his own to command in Germany.

Everything was going according to my knowledge of Roman history, except pretty much nothing.

Most of what I knew about Vespasian was based on Suetonius, a risky source at best, but I was pretty sure he was supposed to retire and disappear from public life for a number of years after campaigning in Britannia, an operation orchestrated by Claudius in the original timeline, only to be recalled into the military to deal with the Jewish revolt in the east in 66 A.D. Agrippina, apparently, had other plans for him. It was a shrewd strategy. There hadn’t been progress in Germany since Julius Caesar had crossed the Rhine, only to coming back across just as quickly without venturing very far. The only noteworthy news in the area after Caesar was the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest, where three legions were annihilated under the command of Quinctilius Varus. If Agrippina had plans to expand the empire, going there was the logical, if not dangerous, choice and appointing Vespasian was another.

We’d also heard from passing Romans, whose tongues were quite lucid after a few drinks and a scantily clad Helena, that Galba had been assigned to Vespasian’s command team. After The Battle for Rome four years ago, Galba had gone back to Germany to retrain the nearly destroyed Legio XV Primigenia after it had helped Caligula reclaim his imperial power. Later, he had been made governor of the Iberian Peninsula, another historical consistency.

I wasn’t sure why he had chosen to serve under a relative upstart like Vespasian, but I had a bad feeling it had something to do with our involvement. As far as I knew, until 69 A.D., Galba’s life was fairly mundane, but since our arrival forced him into a civil war, and a bloody battle outside the gates of Rome, maybe we had piqued his interest in war a bit and now he was itching for a fight.

Sometimes I wished Vincent were here, for the sole reason of discussing the finer points of Roman history, but sadly I didn’t have that luxury. Hopefully, in another few months, I would. Either way, Galba was to retake command of the XV Primigenia and serve alongside five other legions under Vespasian’s overall command, six legions in total, twice as many as Julius Caesar had when he invaded Britain.

It was clear that Agrippina’s intention wasn’t simply to invade Germany. She was planning on conquering and taking up shop. Six whole legions, along with their full compliments of auxilia was an army that could conquer the world. It was also an army that could take control of Rome. All we had to do was get Vespasian to understand his potential historical significance, convince Galba to back him, and somehow force Agrippina to step aside so Vespasian could take over.

Easy.

It took us about a week and a dozen pointed fingers later, but we soon found our way to the enormous legionary barracks that was the army’s camp.

To say it was huge was an understatement.

It sat on the west bank of the Rhine River and was called Vindonissa. It had been built around the birth of Christ and has since been called home by the Legio XIII Gemina , and if history was at all accurate, the Legio XXI Rapax should have just moved in. Along with Galba’s Legio XV Primigenia and Vespasian’s Legio II Augusta , that accounted for four of the six legions meant to embark on the campaign.

It would be a difficult nut to crack as all that firepower would make sneaking in a challenge. Santino’s UAV would have been helpful for advanced recon, but it was no longer available so we’d have to reconnoiter the camp the old fashioned way.

Like all legion forts, it had been constructed far from the tree line, a defensive strategy that ensured an attacking force would have to abandon the natural cover provided by a tree line to enter missile fire range.

General George Washington, before he was a general and when he was still a Redcoat, had made the mistake of not clearing out the tree line around Ft. Necessity before a battle during the Seven Year’s War. The blunder had left much of his force dead, and he and his remaining men were just barely able to hold the line.

No insult to George Washington, but Romans would never make that mistake. Their camps were so efficient and practical that no matter how many legionnaires were present, the fort would always be built around the same basic principles, just scaled up.

Camps worth keeping around, like this one, generally had far larger walls around its perimeter and were built with stone instead of wood. The higher walls would make our infiltration route more difficult, but once inside we’d instantly know our way around. The only possible snag was that we didn’t know exactly where Galba’s tent would be. Vespasian, as the overall commander of the entire army, would be staying in the praetorium this time, not him.

But the praetorium was always situated directly in the middle of the camp, set halfway along the via principalis , and it didn’t take a huge leap in logic to assume Galba would be nearby. As one of Vespasian’s legates, he was only one step below Vespasian in the chain of command, and the army’s generals would be posted near each other. All it would take is a legionnaire who valued his life more than his pride to tell us where Galba was.