There might have been a thousand rows of tents before us, each containing eight sleeping men, and I had no idea how many tents there were per row. To find our way through, we simply picked a narrow avenue in one of the denser areas of the camp and slowly made our way towards the center, looking for a potential legionnaire to interrogate.
We didn’t have to wait long before our first candidate appeared.
A man stumbled out of his tent nearly on top of us, muttering about how he really had to use the bathroom. Helena moved first and tackled him to the ground, covering his mouth in one quick motion. I knelt beside him and pushed my small boot knife against his throat.
“Galba,” I whispered into his ear. “Where’s his tent?”
The man’s eyes were filled with shock, wide open and unbelieving, as though he were witnessing an apparition before him. He trembled and I heard the sound of running water beneath me. I glanced down to see that the man had urinated himself. Helena looked down as well, just in time to shift her knee out of the way. She looked back up at me and rolled her eyes.
“Galba?” I whispered with some force this time, driving my knife deep enough to draw a droplet of blood.
The legionnaire shook his head vigorously, his eyes wide with terror. Helena moved her hand just slightly. “Two tents behind the praetorium, three in the direction of the porta decumana.”
I nodded. “Thanks. Your helpfulness won’t go unrewarded.”
Helena covered his mouth again and I shot him with a tranq dart before he could do something stupid. She looked at me with wide, annoyed eyes, not finding my parting words nearly as humorous as I did. We waited a few seconds for the affects to take hold and I removed the dart. I rolled him near the entrance to his tent with the shove of my boot. A random passerby wouldn’t suspect any foul play, just another drunk passed out on the ground, and he’d probably be too out of it when he woke up to even remember us.
I flicked my fingers towards the praetorium and we carefully stalked our way through the camp. It took us about fifteen minutes, but we were eventually in position to cross the via principalis.
Luckily, traffic wasn’t heavy, but there were guards posted sporadically. If not for a few parlor tricks Santino had taught us about creating diversions and dividing and conquering, this operation would have been over almost before it began.
But we were lucky, and our insertion seemed complete when we found ourselves in front of the tent the legionnaire had indicated was Galba’s. I glanced at my watch. 0330. We had a few hours before the army started its daily hustle and bustle. I followed Helena as she reached the tent’s entrance and gave the camp one last look. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so I patted her on the shoulder and followed her inside.
I stepped into a large open space, littered with mobile furniture and storage containers scattered throughout in a haphazard manner. After a second to take in my surroundings, I went directly to the bed. Looking down, I saw the fat face of the ugly man I knew to be Galba. I never did figure out how his head always looked so fat while his body stayed in the tip top shape of any legionnaire.
Helena and I exchanged nods, and I bent over to clasp a gloved hand over his thick lips.
His eyes shot open, but he didn’t flinch, try to escape or utter a noise. In his eyes I saw immediate recognition, even with our concealing facemasks. He was one of the few people who knew who we were. I held a finger vertically over my covered mouth and waited for him to nod in understanding. When he did, I slowly removed my hand.
“You,” he growled. “I should have you arrested and crucified. I’ve recently received word from the empress that you have officially been charged with the murder of Caligula.” He narrowed his eyes at me angrily.
I cocked my head to the side and looked at Helena. Her indecipherable figure shrugged. That was news to us. I’d always wondered why she hadn’t pegged his murder on us years ago, but I guess it was better late than never for her.
Interesting timing, though.
I pulled off my mask, revealing a face I knew was familiar to him and stood up straight.
“Servius. I need you to listen to me.”
“Listen to you?! Why should I do that, you traitorous murderer?”
I leaned down and whispered, “Servius, do you really think we killed Caligula?”
Galba looked at the foot of his bed before looking back at us, shifting positions so that he was sitting up and crossed his arms over his chest. It gave him the appearance of a chubby, stubborn two year old.
“No,” he said. “I don’t. You are many things, but I always considered you loyal, and since you didn’t try to usurp power for yourself after his death, I see no motive.”
Helena removed her own mask and pulled her very long hair from beneath the back of her vest.
“Listen to him, Galba,” she said. “You may not want believe what he has to tell you, but you need to trust us.”
I looked over at Helena, who had cleaned up since our time in the tavern, and was back to the ravishing green eyed beauty I’d always known her to be.
“So you brought your woman,” Galba commented as he looked around. “Of course you did. Where is the funny one? I actually liked him.”
I’m sure Santino will be ecstatic.
“Servius,” I pressed, “what I’m about to tell you will sound ridiculous, outlandish, and frankly impossible, but I need you to keep an open mind.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” He asked nervously. “My name is Lucius, not Servius.”
“No, it’s not,” I said sternly. “Your real name is Servius Sulpicius Galba. You only took the name Lucius Livius Ocella Sulpicius Galba from your step mother and her family, who loved you dearly and raised you as one of their own.” I saw his eyes widen in surprise. “Now, let me tell you another story. One about you, me, Rome, its future, and how I need your help to ensure its very survival.”
III
Mission Entry #3
Helena Van Strauss
Vindonissa, Germania Superior — April, 42 A.D.
My turn.
It seems only fair that someone other than Jacob have the opportunity to tell our story. He’s always been too secretive for his own good. Stubborn and arrogant too. But while that stubbornness was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him all those years ago, it’s also what brought us here today.
In a place I don’t want to be.
I sit here writing this entry from within Galba’s tent, at the very center of a fortress filled with tens of thousands of armed and dangerous men, all of whom wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to cash in on the Whore’s reward for our heads. To someone like me or you, this may seem crazy, but to someone like Jacob, it’s completely normal.
The man I love is on a mission, and when he’s on one, it’s best to stay out of his way.
The man I love.
I’ve found it harder and harder to regard him in that way for maybe six months now, ever since his plan became less theoretical and more like an obsession. I don’t feel wrong in questioning my feelings for him when his fixation suddenly became more of a priority to him than I was. And I don’t mean that in a jealous way. What I mean is that he no longer seems to care about anything I have to say, if he even bothers to ask.