“Good,” Vincent said, his demeanor shifting towards serious again. “This young man’s name is actually Titus Marcellus Glabrio.” He paused and surveyed the room. “He is my son.”
Silence came over the room again before Santino, not missing a beat, said, “I must say, sir, I’m very impressed. At this rate, he’ll be bigger than Bordeaux by the time he’s five.”
I stuck my finger in his direction, ready to scold him myself this time, but Helena reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling it down to the table between us. She shushed me and shook her head.
I nodded. I guess everyone already knew Santino really couldn’t be that stupid.
Vincent gave him an exasperated look, but continued. “He is not my biological son, of course. He is my stepson. My biological son, however, just turned one.”
Helena beamed. “You found someone?”
“I did,” he said, smiling back. “My wife’s name is Culpurnia Glabrio. She is an attendant to the governor-general of Judea’s wife. Her late husband, Titus’ father, was in the legions and died over a decade ago.”
“I’m so happy for you, Vincent,” Helena said, unable to stop grinning. “You’ve waited for so long. It’s wonderful!” She looked over at Wang and Santino on the bed, her smile faltering momentarily before it recovered with a more mischievous look to it. “I guess that just leaves you two.”
Santino and Wang looked at her before turning towards each other. Their looks lingered before they turned back to Helena again, noticing for the first time how close in proximity they were to each other on the bed. In response, they hastily shifted apart, their cheeks blushing nicely. Neither man looked back at the other.
“Nice one, dear,” I said, wrapping my arm around Helena in a hug.
“Thanks, honey,” she replied, wrapping her own behind my back.
“Oi!” Wang said defensively, pointing a finger at her, “I had my hands full in Greece. I developed a dozen medications from sleeping pills to pain killers, using nothing but local resources and the primitive, backwater tools they had available.”
“Noted,” Bordeaux chimed in. “You’re excused.” He looked at Santino. “But what’s your excuse?”
Normally, Santino would just brush off any jeers at his manhood with a juvenile joke or childish comment, but despite his endless fornications with random women over the years, I knew he had a soft spot when it came to relationships. I almost expected him to make a crack about how the team was slowly turning into Praetorians: 90210, but I guess he just wanted to join the club these days.
He looked around the room, hoping for some support, but finding none, pointed his finger accusingly at Gaius and Marcus.
“What about those two?”
The two Romans exchanged glances.
“What about us?” Gaius asked. “We are both married.”
“To other people,” Marcus clarified.
Santino looked around the room again, hoping for someone to help him out, before tossing his hands in the air and leaning back on the bed. “I fucking hate you guys.”
“What’s your son’s name?” Helena asked Vincent as everyone had a good laugh at Santino’s expense.
The older man smiled. “Brian Wilson Glabrio.”
“Brain Wilson?” I questioned distractedly. “Not very Roman, and why does that name sound so familiar?”
“None of you know?” Vincent asked, looking around the room at vacant expressions all around. “I really must be that old. Brian Wilson was one of the founding members and lead vocalist for the Beach Boys.”
“You’ve got to be kidding?” Santino asked.
“I told you years ago that I loved them,” Vincent remarked.
“Yeah, but…” Along with Santino’s hatred for 80’s music came a misunderstanding for Classic Rock in general. He sighed, “…never mind.”
“It’s a good name, Vincent,” I said, reassuringly.
“Thank you, Hunter. I miss him already and worry for his safety constantly.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Judea has become quite volatile over the past few years,” he answered, switching to English. “Many speak of open rebellion, but I doubt much will come from it. You know as well as I that it will still be many decades before that happens, but the environment is different now. Believe me when I say, it could happen within years.”
“Yeah…” I agreed, lost in thought. The Jewish uprising in the Middle East was still another thirty or so years away. Unless…
And then a light bulb went off in my head, but I set it aside.
“Don’t worry, Vincent,” I said, shifting my seat on the table. “I get the feeling you’ll probably be seeing him sooner than you think.”
“Yes… well,” he said, taking his hand off Titus’ shoulder, but not moving back to his chair, “I think it would do you well to explain what it is you’re planning first.”
“I will,” I said, pushing myself up off the table, “but before all that, Vincent, mind explaining why Titus is here exactly?”
“He’s…” Vincent paused, glancing at his amputated arm,” he’s my replacement.”
“What?” Santino, Helena and I asked in unison.
“Exactly as I said,” Vincent sighed. “I was old four years ago, and I’ve really started feeling it since.”
“Children have that affect,” Madrina offered from her chair beside Bordeaux.
“They do indeed,” Vincent replied, offering her a smile. “Besides that, I cannot use my rifle as efficiently as I once could. That is why I have been training Titus here for the past two years. I had no intention of doing so at first, but once he discovered my rifle and managed to use it without any guidance, he demanded I tell him everything. I’ve been training him ever since, and he has become quite the warrior.”
“You told him everything?” I asked in English.
“Not… everything,” Vincent answered tentatively. “There are still a few gaps in our story.”
“More riddles!” Gaius complained. “Will we ever know where you are from? Why is it that you still do not trust us?
“We do trust you, Gaius,” Helena said, always the mediator, “but it’s for your own safety. The less you know, the better.”
“It’s still my guess that they’re from the future,” Marcus told his friend, his arms crossed against his chest.
“Again with this “future” business,” Gaius exclaimed. “That is the worst idea I have heard yet. They are ancestors of the ancient Titans, rivals to the gods themselves!”
Helena and I exchanged knowing glances as they bickered for a few more minutes.
“For the moment, it’s not important,” I told them from the center of the circle. “What is important is that young Titus here understands exactly what he’s getting in to.” I turned to face the young man, his late teenage face showing no sign of fear or intimidation. “Well? Are you?”
Titus looked at Vincent, who nodded in support, before he looked me square in the eye. “I am prepared, Jacob Hunter.”
“Fine,” I said, but decided right then that no matter how things played out, one of the first things he needed to drop was the use of my first and last name. He’d better not keep that up. Agrippina was one thing, and Gaius and Marcus used to do it all the time as well, and it had gotten old long ago.
“Don’t worry, Hunter,” Vincent assured. “I’ll still be with you every step of the way, just in a diminished capacity.”
I nodded, turning to face Bordeaux and Wang. “What about you two? You haven’t been getting all lazy and paunchy on us while you’ve been gone?”
I looked at Bordeaux first. All he did was roll his giant shoulders and I had my answer.
“Never mind,” I said to him. “What about her?”
Bordeaux looked down at Madrina and smiled. “I haven’t bested her in a fight yet.”
“Sure you haven’t,” I snorted in amusement, turning to Wang. “And you?”
In response, he rolled up his sleeve and flexed his impressively ripped bicep, proving he was still in better shape than Bruce Lee ever was.
“Great,” I replied. “Except for Santino, who’s been packing on the pounds…”
“I have not!”