Edward Crichton - The Last Roman

She’d grown weak and bed ridden over the next few weeks while she finished healing. She was trapped in bed, and even with modern antibiotics and Wang’s direct care, her recovery hadn’t been as graceful as it would have been in a modern hospital. She’d contracted a fever, and the wound on her back became infected, but she was resilient, and Wang was always there to help. A few weeks before he left for Greece, Wang finally gave her a clean bill of health and directions to start getting into shape. He never would have left Helena before making sure she made a full recovery. Total recovery time was over two months and she was still far from one hundred percent.

Helena leaned forward slightly on the bed and looked up at me. “Are you all right, Jacob?”

I smiled at her. “Me? I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re all right.”

I patted her on the knee and leaned in for a kiss. She didn’t pull away, and I found myself lying on the bed next to her a few seconds later.

“You know,” she said in between breaths and lip locks, “I still haven’t properly thanked you for taking care of me.”

I smiled, and pushed her gently away. “Now, that, you definitely haven’t been cleared for! Let’s not push it.”

She smiled back. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever met.”

“I know. It’s why you love me,” I answered, getting to my feet. “Come on. We’d better make sure Santino hasn’t choked on an olive or something.”

“We do?” She asked.

I chuckled, gripped her hands again, and slowly pulled her to her feet. I handed her the cane fashioned for her, and held out my arm for her to rest against as well. We walked out of the room together to find Santino, feet back on the table, trying to toss olives into his mouth. Judging by the body count on the floor, he hadn’t been very successful.

Putting his boot back on, he jumped to his feet when he saw us. “Finally! Let’s go. I’m starving.”

I shook my head. “Just so you know I’m not going to let you crash on my couch much longer. You need to find your own place.”

“I have one,” he said, information that I unfortunately already knew, “but your place is cleaner.”

I shook my head, and looked to Helena for support. Over the past few months, Santino hadn’t just been freeloading, but helping care for Helena when I had to do things like sleep, eat or other daily necessities. Needless to say, she didn’t hate him anymore, and with a heart of gold, could never force him to leave, even though he had a perfectly fine place right next door.

She shrugged at me and smiled.

My shoulders slumped. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend, and my girlfriend actually happens to like you,” I told Santino. “When does that ever happen?”

He smacked me on the shoulder. “Couldn’t have happened to a better guy. Now. Can we please go?” He asked, moving towards the other side of Helena and taking her other arm, tossing her cane on my couch.

“Seriously, Hunter,” she said. “I’m starving!”

I sighed, completely defeated. “All right. At least this should be an interesting evening.”

Interesting? Maybe. At least I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

Reclaiming an empire, even when you were the legitimate sovereign, wasn’t an easy task. When we had marched into the city, there were small pockets of resistance of little consequence. Stubborn senators with delusions of grandeur and dreams of a seat on the throne, defended their lives with hired servants and slaves. These were the men who had probably planted the seed of rebellion in Claudius’ mind to begin with, unaffected by the orb, their own egos fueling their quest for absolute power. Any remaining Senator who couldn’t prove his loyalty was likewise crucified next to their Praetorian allies. As for the orb, it was history. It was taken to an undisclosed position by Varus, and he hadn’t told us where it was. No one knew where the second one was either.

The next step was a conscription, which was basically a list of names, and if yours was on it, you were a free target for any legionnaire, bounty hunter, or civilian alike willing to sell your ass to the State. Any and all assets were to be seized, and your life forfeited. Dictators like Marius and Sulla had abused the process to eliminate those disloyal to them, but Caligula only targeted those directly involved in the plot. Almost a fourth of the Senate was rounded up and crucified, order had been restored, and those who remained would think twice before ever crossing Caligula, especially with his devoutly loyal Sacred Band by his side.

Finally, where the patrician families of Rome suffered, its lower classes prospered. After the siege, Caligula ordered immense grain supplies to be imported to the city from neighboring towns. Each were completely willing and happy to help. Some plebian families even found their way into new found wealth and power. Those who had rallied against Claudius during the siege were commended, and some offered vacant Senate seats, and with it, the honor of citizenship.

To further benefit the people of Rome, Caligula had proposed plans to erect a stadium of epic proportions, one that could hold immense gladiatorial fights, races, and naval battles, all for the viewing spectacle of the people. It had been an idea whispered in his ear by Vincent, along with a suggested location, right in the vicinity of my current home. Caligula thought it was a good idea, and promised those residents they would be moved to better homes, and recruited a young, upstart architect to begin planning its design, with a start construction date in a year. The original Colosseum’s architect was lost to history, so for all I knew, Caligula’s chosen man may very well have been the actual designer, recruited decades earlier.

Vincent would never learn.

So that was that.

Rome was under control and with its rightful ruler popularly and sanely in place. The rest of the empire’s knowledge of the incident was reduced to mere rumors spread by traveling citizens. Santino and I had accepted Caligula’s offer to remain as bodyguards for him, as did Helena, who would join us when she recovered. It wasn’t so much a bodyguard position, but as agents he could call on for “special” assignments.

It was the best posting I’d ever had because Caligula hasn’t asked us to do anything yet, except for the occasional appearance in the Curia, dressed in our full military gear. The rules of the pomerium were restricted to swords, spears, and shields, so our rifles fell through a loop hole that allowed us to carry them.

Caligula was also sympathetic to my desires to care for Helena, and knew three would be better than two on any assignment he sent us on. With that in mind, he told Helena, on one of his occasional visits, to take her time healing. Other bonuses included our housing assignment, an income that easily put us in the equestrian class, those wealthy Roman businessmen who weren’t part of the patrician senatorial class, and invitations to numerous dinner parties, most of which Caligula himself invited us to.

Which is where we were headed now, only this one wasn’t hosted by Caligula, but by his sister.

Agrippina.

I hadn’t told anyone about what I saw that day Santino and I were captured. About how she had possibly set us up, and how she had been present at the moment we were captured. The evidence was circumstantial, as Claudius could have been lying about sending her as a messenger just to get a rise out of me, and I still couldn’t be sure it had actually been her smooching him after I had been hit over the head.

Besides. Who would I tell? Caligula wouldn’t believe me. He seemed completely secure in the notion that Agrippina was a sweet little angel, and now a mother to boot. If I told Helena, she would have crawled out of bed, dragged herself to Agrippina’s home, and ripped her throat out with her bare hands. While the latter outcome was somewhat appealing, I couldn’t condemn someone on circumstantial evidence alone.