Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome (12 page)

“James had to take out your appendix!”

“Eh, didn’t really need it to begin with, right?  Good riddance, I say.”

“How can you be so flippant about it, John?”  I asked, concern returning as I turned away from him and crossed my arms over my stomach.  “Agrippina almost killed you.  And Helena almost died from a very similar wound once.  Had James not recovered long enough to treat you, you would probably be dead!”

He shrugged.  “The Roman doctors aren’t that bad…”

“John!  Stop!  No more jokes…”

“All right,” he said, so quickly that I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.  “What do
you
want to talk about then?”

I was ready to continue yelling at him when I realized the futility of such an effort.  Johnathon Archibald Santino III wasn’t the kind of person who let anything get him down, let alone an abdominal stab wound, and I just had to accept that. 

Besides, I suddenly had another thought that might just annoy
him
for once.

“So where did you get a middle name like Archibald from?”

His reaction was exactly as I’d hoped it would be.  His next breath drew up short, his mouth hung open in sudden horror, and his eyes turned on me with comic slowness.  A smile spread across my own face as I took a moment of victory at my discovery of something that could bother the unflappable Johnathon Santino.  But then I lost my smile when a look of malicious joy returned to his face.  The tables had turned and I realized he hadn’t been offended or worried in the slightest.

“What?”  He asked, leaning in to nudge my shoulder with his own.  “Did you think I would be ashamed of my middle name or something?”

“No, but…”

“It was my great-grandfather’s name.  Archibald ‘Archie’ Santino!  What a name… right?  Never knew the guy, but apparently neither name was his legitimate one when his family immigrated to America, but… what are you going to do?  He named his first kid Johnathon, which has stuck around ever since, and we just bumped Archie to the middle slot.  Simple as that.”

“I like it,” I said.

“Like what?”  He asked, legitimately confused this time.

“The name.  Archibald.  I’ve never heard it before.”

“Don’t have
Archie
comics from where you come from?”

“I guess not,” I admitted sadly.

He frowned.  “Well, you’re not exactly missing much… I hated being called Jughead all the time when I was…”

“Aha!”  I exclaimed, pointing at him.  “I knew there must have been something!”

“Yeah, yeah, but you don’t even get the reference.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said triumphantly, “I know you’re weakness now.”

He held up a finger.  “Don’t make me remind you who does the joking around here.”

“Oh, fine,” I said, grinning at him, “I guess I’ll just stick with Archie then.  That way we can basically have the same nickname.”

He jerked his head to the side, obviously having never thought about that before.  “Cute,” he said finally.  “Very cute, actually.  I guess that means we’re meant for each other.”

I gave him a playful shove.  “Is that your way of flirting… Archie?”

He smiled.  “Never been very good at it, to be honest.  Usually, women just fling themselves at me.”

“How convenient for you.”

“You could say that,” he said with a deep sigh.  “Although, it does get kinda boring after a while.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.  “Miss the challenge of chasing women?”

“Who was chasing?”  He scoffed.  “How can I miss what I’ve never experienced?”

“You know, Archie, you really aren’t helping yourself here…”

“You see?!”  He yelled, throwing his hands in the air.  A pair of passing legionnaires on patrol around the camp’s perimeter reacted to his exclamation by pointing spears at us, but once they saw who it was, they ignored us with shakes of their heads and went back to their walk.  Santino waved a hand at them as they walked, but turned back to me.  “See?  I never was very good at the whole flirting thing.  How about you just take the hint and we move on to the good part then?”

I frowned at his comment, but not because I was offended or taken aback by what I knew to be more of a jest than a proposal, but because even though I wanted to do exactly what he was suggesting, I knew that I couldn’t.  Not anymore.  Not after what had happened to Jacob.

My eyes drifted off to my right just then, looking out over the camp in a direction that held no actual meaning to me.  But because of our experiences in recent months, I knew exactly what I was looking at even if I couldn’t see it.  The orb was there, somewhere, beckoning to me just as it had Jacob, but unlike Jacob, I barely felt anything at all, just an indication that it was resting over in that direction somewhere.  I had no desire to seek it out or take it for myself, it was just there, a helpful reminder that what had happened to Jacob could happen to me at any moment, and I couldn’t put John through something like that.

I knew a thing or two about boys, even assholes like Archer, and I knew that if this particular boy grew attached to me, something he apparently never did with any other woman he’d ever met, then losing me would be heartbreaking.  It’d turn him into Helena, but, again being a guy, he’d probably have even less control, and unlike Helena, he might do something stupid.

John immediately picked up on my anxiety.  “Something wrong?”

“Hmm?”  I asked, turning back to him, not really remembering why I’d turned away to begin with.  “No, everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure?  You looked pretty distracted.”

“I’m okay.  What were you saying before?”

“I…”

But he was interrupted when a shadow loomed over us, blocking out the midday sun just as John had done when he’d first approached. We looked up, shielding our eyes with upraised hands.  When my vision cleared, I recognized Archer standing over us.  He looked haggard and drawn, as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.  For some reason, I almost expected him to attack us, or do something silly like sit between us to drive us a part, but he did neither.

“Got a problem, Blondie?”  John asked.

Archer shook his head, saying only one word before turning and leaving:

“Briefing.”

***

There’d been a lot of rushing around since Jacob’s disappearance.  There had been plenty of sudden events and impromptu meetings, but no one really ever had the energy for it.  Even Archer had slunk away from John and me after his announcement, not even heading toward the commander’s tent for the briefing.  He’d simply rambled toward a random area of the camp near the northern gate, which made me wonder if he’d even been invited.

John and I didn’t move immediately, too unexcited for what we were both sure would be another arbitrary meeting where nothing was resolved and no additional information was gained.  Why the two of us had been invited was anyone’s guess, but despite my lack of drive, I was still going to go.

I started to my feet, and John did the same, but by the time I was fully upright, he was still struggling just to get off the ground.  I reached out and gripped his arm, unable to completely ignore just how large and solid it felt beneath his light jacket. I tried to forget about it while I did what I could to lift his heavy frame up off the ground.  With my help, he put a hand to his knee and finally pushed himself upright, but he had to stop and catch his breath at the exertion, and it took another few seconds before he was fully up straight and stable.

He looked at me and winked.  “See?  Good as new.”

I laughed.  “You’re a worse liar than Jacob.  Do you need help walking?”

He looked hurt at the suggestion.  “Do I need help…
walking
?  I got myself here on my own, didn’t I?”

“Fine, tough guy, but I’m not helping you up if you fall.”

“Don’t blame you,” he mumbled under his breath as he started toward the center of the camp.

I caught up a second later and thought about holding his hand as we walked, but then thought better of it.  If he wasn’t going to be a very fun flirting partner, then I certainly wasn’t going to make it any easier on him.  We’d grown close, although I’d thought the two of us had done it mostly just to annoy Jacob, but now I wasn’t so sure.  I wasn’t sure how I felt, and I certainly couldn’t read a guy like Johnathon Santino.  Every instinct screamed at me not to trust him – he was just another womanizing asshole – but there was also something different about him that made me question my own instincts.  Beneath his façade of jovial, juvenile, asinine arrogance was someone who had often gone out of his way to help those he cared about, sacrificed little things to make others feel better or knock them out of a rut. Often times this was accomplished through self-deprecating humor, slap-stick comedy, or even outright insults or abusive comments, but the end result was the same.  Maybe he simply went through women in Ancient Rome because he knew nothing would ever come of it. Maybe he was just lonely, especially after having to live with Jacob and Helena for so long.

Maybe I was reading way too much into it.

We were drawing close to the central point in the camp, where the two main roads intersected and where the commander’s tent was constructed.  For the past month, that tent had belonged to Galba, but now that we were back in Camulodunum, it belonged to the Roman general Aulus Plautius, who was a complete mystery to me.  The last time we were here, we’d only stayed one night, and only Jacob and Galba had met with him.  All I knew of him was that he was the commander of Rome’s armies in Britain.

And no one else knew much more than that.

With Jacob and Vincent gone, none of us had any real knowledge of Roman history.  Without them, we had no one who could provide critical historical knowledge or context at moment’s notice.  It was something none of us had realized we’d miss until we no longer had access to it.

The tent was in sight now, only a few dozen steps away, and I looked at it as I would any other of the thousands of tents in this place.  It was large but plain, clearly the abode of a professional, no-nonsense soldier, and exactly like all the others I’d seen, just bigger.  Posted outside were a pair of guards who didn’t move to stop us as we approached, allowing us access after a simple glance

The first person I saw was Helena, who stood poised like a raging monster simmering at the chance to tear the tent down around us – easily the most dominant personality in the room because of her height and the simple fact that she was the only other woman in attendance.  Beside her were Gaius and Marcus, familiar faces, although I still didn’t know them very well yet.  Alex Cuyler was also here, an odd choice because of his quiet nature, but a good one because of his frank attitude.

Finally, there were Galba and Plautius.

Galba was easy to recognize with his fat and ugly face but fit body.  Aulus Plautius, however, wasn’t nearly so distinct in appearance.  He looked much like most of these Roman soldiers: not particularly tall, dark hair, clean shaven, and possessing a hard, indifferent face that had seen far too much combat but had grown to crave it, as revealed through eyes so intense that they seemed ready to pop out of his head.  Still, his body language suggested he was more patient than Galba, who paced furiously on his side of a table with a large map positioned across it.

If there was one thing I’d learned about these Romans, it was that they really liked their maps.

Galba’s face looked as equally upset as Helena’s, and I was sure it was because the two of them had just concluded another of their arguments.  When John and I were fully inside the tent, he finally took notice of us and ceased his pacing.

He pointed a hand at us.  “Oh, good!  The funny one has finally arrived.  Now
real
progress can be made.  And you brought your woman, good…”

“She’s not my…” Santino started to say.

“Be quiet!”  Galba roared, causing his neck to jiggle.  “I am tired of the incessant coupling between you lot.  Hunter and this one was bad enough.  This is why a real army does not allow women within its ranks.  This…”

“Enough!”  Helena said, her voice commanding and loud.  “This isn’t the time to…”

Galba took a step toward her threateningly.  “Do not interrupt me, woman!  I am also sick of your…”

I rolled my eyes and listened to the two bicker, following the nature of their argument fairly well thanks to persistent Latin lessons given by Professor Santino.

John leaned in close to my ear.  “You’d think they were the ones in love, am I right?”

I smacked his arm but couldn’t help but smirk at his comment.

“Ow,” he said, clearly not hurt.  “I’m wounded, remember?”

“Oh, now you’re wounded?”

He simply grinned at me, but also pointed at Helena and Galba as they continued to argue.  “Think I should step in here?”  He asked.  “Take on more of a leadership role and maybe grow up a little bit before this story is completely told?”

I shook my head.  “Most certainly not.  That would be too out of character for you.  Jacob’s movie goers and book readers might not like it.”

He shook his head as though he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that as well.  “Fantastic points.  Thank God one of us is thinking rationally.”