to my tent thoroughly creeped out, and wrapped myself around Helena. In seconds I was back asleep with another hour to burn.
By the time the fiftieth day of the siege rolled around, I’d just about given up any thoughts of it lifting. Besides the few moments of excitement and action, there wasn’t much to do. I spent my time running, practicing swordsmanship, cleaning and preparing my gear, spending some quality time with my reconciled lady friend, and working on my tan. I was a solid bronze, practically Helena standards, by the time Caligula called for a meeting of his senior staff. He told Vincent to bring the rest of us along.
All the usual suspects were present and accounted for, so Caligula began promptly.
“I am sure you are all aware of how the siege is progressing, so I’ll get to the point.” He paused, placed his fists on the table and leaned heavily on them. “We’ve just received reports indicating massive unrest in the city. Many of its citizens are calling for an end to the siege and demanding Claudius do something about it.
“Seven months ago, news of my apparent death didn’t go over well with the public, and while Claudius’ ascension was taken in stride, it was not overwhelming popular. Therefore, our arrival, and my apparent rise from the dead, has made the people question what actually happened the night we left. Thanks in part to Vincent and his people, many felt the gods themselves had fought against my Praetorians. Now, however, they are not so sure.
“This works in our favor. Claudius now has no choice but to face us in open combat, or risk the city rising against him. I do not care how unstable he may be, he is not stupid. He’ll come out and face us.”
He looked at each of us present and met each of our gazes. Most wore stone faced expressions, but some, mostly those of us who had never seen a military engagement of this kind, looked worried. He must have noticed our apprehension.
“Vincent. What can I expect from you and your people?”
Vincent shifted his feet, and looked at each of his operators. I gave him a reassuring nod.
“We’ll fight for you, Caesar,” he replied, confidently.
“Good.”
“I think what the emperor meant is how can you help us?” Galba asked, still looking for a reason to keep us around.
“Three things,” Vincent said, ignoring Galba. “First, we can lay a field of explosives on the battlefield the night before the engagement along a path where we expect our enemy to be. They will trigger when passed by. It should cause significant damage to small portions of the army.”
“Wouldn’t that require them to attack us? As it is that we are besieging them, it would seem that the orders of combat would be reversed,” Galba said, continuing his skepticism and sarcasm.
“Not necessarily, sir. We can sneak close enough to the walls to lay them in the area the enemy will use to form their battle lines. We can hit them any time we want.”
I groaned quietly. That would mean we, probably Helena and I, would have to spend hours crawling under the cover of ghilli suits just to get close enough to lay out a field of demo. It wouldn’t be fun, but it would definitely work.
C-4 was very good at blowing up walls and bringing down buildings, but its blast radius and direction was very concentrated, so laying it on the ground to blow at the enemy’s feet wouldn’t work. We did have a few claymores left, provided in our supplies but what would really help were the few dozen antipersonnel mines we discovered. Nearly invisible to those not directly looking for them, the mines were equipped with laser trip wires. Once triggered, the mine would launch a device a few feet in the air, and explode outwards as it spun, tearing through skin and bone in a twenty yard radius. The few dozen of these we had would be very helpful, indeed.
“Second, we can provide rifle fire to help weed out the enemy at a much farther range than your pila volleys. Since we are within our range already, our sustained fire might force their hand, and cause them to charge us. Once both sides are within pila range, no matter who charges who, we will fall back through your lines and fire when targets of opportunity display themselves only.”
“And the third?” Galba asked insistently.
Vincent looked around the room, maybe deciding if he wanted to continue or not. “Before the battle even begins, should Claudius be present on the battlefield, we, and by ‘we,’ I mean her,” he said, pausing for emphasis as he pointed at Helena, “can eliminate him before he takes two steps onto the field.”
Galba opened his mouth to speak, but just as quickly shut it. He had seen her shoot an apple off of a wall from a few hundred yards away, and must have known she could do what Vincent was offering. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, and since she was a better shot than even I was, Helena, not her rifle, was currently the single most effective weapon on the entire planet.
Caligula appeared more thoughtful than his general, as he too realized Helena could perhaps end the war before it even began. Still leaning on his fists, he looked up and for maybe the first time since both had known each other, looked her square in the eye, and spoke to her as a commander would any of his soldiers.
“Are you willing to do this?”
Helena looked at Vincent, who nodded, then at me. All I could do was offer a weak shrug. It wasn’t my place to decide for her. She looked down at her feet and thought it over before meeting Caligula’s face.
“I am,” she answered, mostly confident.
Caligula looked at Galba, whose face was unreadable. I knew what he was thinking, and it couldn’t have been an easy decision. Just because you had the power to end a life on a whim, doesn’t mean you should do so. Besides, enemy or not, crazy or not, Claudius was still Caligula’s uncle, and I’m sure that fact had to weigh heavily on his mind. He turned his back on his staff, and rested his chin on an upraised fist.
Five minutes passed and he still hadn’t made a decision.
“Caesar?” Galba queried tentatively.
Caligula’s head dropped, but he soon turned back to face us.
“No,” he said quietly. “No. Thank you, but I cannot condone that. He is my uncle, and both sides are aware of why they are fighting. Assassinating him at the onset of battle would do little to dissuade the troops. Whoever has more men standing at the end of the day will prevail, and will be able to maintain their hold on power through their own loyal troops. The less dissenters the better. This must be decided on the battlefield.”
Bravo, Caligula. I had to imagine emperors both before, and definitely after, would have jumped at the opportunity to wield the kind of power Helena possessed. Sure, he’d used her before for the exact reason, but it seemed as though the past few months had matured the man, his arrogant personality abandoned. If we could defeat Claudius, I saw a bright future for Rome.
As for Helena, she was obviously relieved. She’d gotten a taste for both combat and assassination lately, and had a definite knack for it, but I knew it didn’t come easy for her. I knew she didn’t like it. It had been a topic for many a late night conversation. I wondered if she would have cut it as a sniper back home. She had no choice here. Here it was kill or be killed, but it wasn’t so black and white back home. She wasn’t a bloodthirsty killer, and I had a renewed regret for bringing us here and causing all this shit.
“So, when the day comes,” Caligula continued, “I expect your people to be at my side. They will have a place of honor, right beside me.”
“It is indeed an honor, Caesar,” Vincent answered, “but I believe we would be put to better use in a more active part of the field.”
“Do not worry, I do not plan to loiter in the rear and stay safe in this battle. The troops will need their emperor guiding them, as much as their eagle. I leave it to you to keep me safe. Believe me when I say, I wouldn’t be so quick to do battle myself if you were not there.”
“We will do our best. Thank you, Caesar.”
Caligula smiled, and looked over at his Praetorian primus pilus. “Don’t look so glum, Quintilius. I would not be so eager to fight if you and your men weren’t there as well.”
Quintilius returned the smile, his dignity and pride restored.
“Let us talk strategy then,” he said.
Finding his favorite map of the walled city, he began explaining his preliminary battle plans. Before he could make any headway, a commotion from outside the tent forced us to stop.
“What now?” Santino asked.
I turned to Helena. “If it’s Agrippina, just shoot her this time.”
She flashed a toothy smile, but we breathed a collective sigh of relief when a simple messenger entered the
