Centurion's Rise Read online

  The thought of his captors firing up their machinery, harnessing a bolt of lightning and crying out ‘It’s alive, it’s alive’ when a Frankensteinesque creation stepped out of the glass coffin allowed him a brief smile. A look to his left into the anxious eyes of his research assistant, Alex, made the corners of his mouth return to their pensive state.

  “That’s never happened before,” Alex whispered. “They’ve made hundreds of phones calls out since taking us captive, but never received one.”

  Professor Russell nodded in agreement and then looked to the other side of the captivity cage to meet the intent gaze of Frank Graves. Up until their imprisonment, he knew Frank to be a washed up, foul mouthed helicopter pilot. Brian now knew the man was a very convincing undercover agent for the NSA on assignment to keep tabs on their efforts to discover previously hidden chambers inside the Great Pyramids and Sphinx.

  The research project was a resounding success with the discovery of four chambers in the Pyramid of Khufu and another inside the Sphinx. Sharing in that great discovery was an observer from the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities, Dr. Andre. Brian considered the man a trusted friend right up to the moment Dr. Andre took them all captive inside the Sphinx’s hidden chamber, presumably to keep the discovery secret. The man still remained oddly cordial, but the forceful kidnapping definitely put a damper on the relationship from the professor’s perspective.

  Brian was about to speak when Frank snapped an index finger to his lips to let him know silence was golden at the moment. Collectively the three captives focused their senses on the one side of the unique phone conversation they were privy to hear.

  “You are saying an American came to the Secretary General’s office this morning,” Dr. Andre repeated. “What did he look like?”

  Professor Russell heard a male voice chattering a response on the phone but couldn’t make out the words. He definitely liked the sound of an American visiting the SCA head office though. Perhaps Frank’s NSA colleagues were finally getting around to investigating their disappearance. After all, three people missing from a registered dig site at the Great Pyramid was bound to get noticed eventually.

  “Right, did he have on a baseball cap . . . yah, an old beat up Texas Rangers hat . . . perfect,” Dr. Andre said without emotion. “And he left with the paperwork? . . . Excellent. Thank you.”

  Dr. Andre snapped the phone shut and tossed it to his partner, a relatively young man in his late thirties. “He has picked up the scent. It is only a matter of time before he will be knocking at our door with his cap in hand.”

  “About time,” the other grunted.

  “I’ll say,” Frank barked from the corner. “Seven days now I’ve stomached your crappy food and these cramped quarters. Now that Mark is in town you two had best move on. I’d hate to see either of you get hurt playing with the big boys.”

  “You grew up in Texas if I am not mistaken, Mr. Graves,” Dr. Andre responded. “I believe your brethren have a saying I find quite appropriate for this occasion. ‘You are all hat and no cattle’.”

  “We are the NSA, you have no idea what our resources can do,” Frank declared.

  “Oh no Mr. Graves, it is you who suffer from a lack of knowledge,” Dr. Andre fired back. “Fear not though, enlightenment will be yours soon enough.”

  Professor Russell wanted to slap Frank upside the head for antagonizing their captors. Given the advanced technology they witnessed protecting the hidden chamber, the professor was not eager to see any more.

  Chapter 6: Pompey the Great

  “So, you’re a Roman senator now. Was that governing body the well meaning steward of societies greater good that you hoped to find, or did corruption and greed reign supreme?” Dr. Holmes asked of his patient.

  An uncharacteristically long contemplative pause found Hastelloy’s attentive gaze focused on his hands folded neatly in his lap. The contrite posture remained as he delivered a somber response. “I found the Republic in a precarious state delicately balanced between pure intentions and debauchery. It may have remained there indefinitely had external forces not offset that balance.”

  “External forces,” Dr. Holmes repeated in surprise. “Plural? What is left to act upon society? There is only you, the Alpha were destroyed back in Egypt.”

  The patient calmly glanced up from his hands to deliver an unexpected reply, “Religion. That aspect of a well balanced society I so arrogantly neglected held a master key to everything. It took thousands of years for me to finally appreciate that fact, but others understood and used it from the very beginning.”

  **********

  Hastelloy let loose a yawn while he sat on his hard, marble seat in the Roman senate chamber. A representative from the liberal leaning Populares faction proposed grain distributions to the people of Rome to combat a famine ravaging the city. In response, a senator from the conservative Optimates insisted the number of slaves allowed in the city must be raised if the measure was to get any support from his political allies. The Populares vehemently opposed the addition arguing more slaves meant fewer jobs for common citizens, who were their voting base.

  So with a nifty bit of political maneuvering the Populares were boxed into an uncomfortable corner. Feed their people but eventually take away their jobs, or let them starve. Whether the measure carried or failed didn’t really matter to the Optimates since they stood to gain votes either way. Fewer jobs would anger the commoners to the point they might change their political inclinations. On the other hand, having the commoners starve would yield the double benefit of people dying, thus removing votes from the Populares, and the survivors getting angry watching their loved ones suffer and change their votes.

  Such was the way of things in the Roman senate. Hastelloy simply shook his head in disgust. The people were starving and there was grain in the silos stored for a war effort that would no longer to take place. The food would spoil soon, so of course it needed to be distributed to the people. Everyone knew it, the Populares and the Optimates, but when there was something to be gained obvious decisions became bare knuckle fights on the senate floor.

  During his brief two months serving in the governing body, Hastelloy formed his conclusion: democracy was not working for the people of Rome. The leaders in the assembly were only interested in enhancing their own power and wealth, not working for the people’s greater good. The civilization was not ready for democracy and needed to get pulled back into the rule of a single leader. One who was rich and powerful enough that gaining more didn’t accomplish anything and was therefore inclined to enhance everyone else’s lives to enshrine his legacy for the ages.

  Hastelloy just wanted to scream ‘for the love of the gods shut up and give the people something to eat,’ but he was a freshly minted senator relegated to the back bench who’s words carried no impact. Political alliances were still being formed on both sides of the aisle so insulting everyone in the room would not be wise. He just wished someone with influence would have the sense to stop this madness. No sooner had the thought entered his mind when someone did just that.

  Gnaeus Pompeius stood up from his seat on the Optimates side. The man was almost a legend in the senate and among the people. He was born a common, albeit rather wealthy, man. He earned his nobility while serving in the military. His distinguished career as a soldier along with his money, backing from the generals, and roots with the commoners made him one of the most influential men in the entire Republic.

  What particularly impressed Hastelloy about the man was his willingness to give up power and money. After the wars, Pompey dismissed his legions and gave the veterans his own lands to farm. He also shared the spoils from his conquests with the people by building a grand theater and even gave away five hundred Sesterces to every citizen in Rome, and it wasn’t even an election year. Hastelloy’s respect for him grew infinitely stronger with the statement that followed.

  “I’m no stranger to political gamesmanship,” Pompey stated with a booming voice. �
�I have engaged in more than a few gambits myself, but this is not the time. People are starving and they will be fed or none of us in this chamber deserve to wear the seal of our office.”

  The Populares side of the hall gave a resounding cheer while Pompey’s fellow Optimates responded with polite nods. “I put my vote behind the noble proposal on the floor without the extra measure, and I denounce anyone who votes otherwise as a vile serpent that should have its head cut off.”

  The stiff rebuke drew angry stares from the senators seated around him. They obviously thought Pompey was grand standing so he could still draw support from the commoners, but throwing an insult at members of his own faction was unexpected. This was not a political move for Pompey, it was a decision of conscience.

  Debate quickly ended and the simple measure to feed the starving poor passed without a single dissenting vote. From that day forward, Hastelloy made a point of getting to know Pompey very well. He needed to make sure the man was as civic minded as he appeared. If so, he could very well be the single leader Rome desperately needed.

  The senate moved on to other matters concerning the festering civil war between Sulla and Marius. Hastelloy knew all too well neither player in the current uprising was the man for the job. They were brutal thugs making a power grab, not leaders of vision and purpose.

  Chapter 7: Proscriptions

  The civil war between Sulla and Marius came to a conclusion with Sulla the victor. Such was the man’s hatred for the other that Marius’ body was exhumed from its resting place and tossed into the Tiber River to lie with the other vile vermin.

  Living under a state of civil war, oddly enough, had provided a sort of balance; nothing too appalling was done because the other side still had the ability to retaliate. Now that Sulla had complete control, his forces were executing his enemies and anyone who looked like them just for good measure.

  One such execution was scheduled to take place at high noon. Gaius, a nephew of Marius, was to have a show trial in front of the people but the verdict was already determined. The man’s head would lose contact with his shoulders within minutes of the trial’s conclusion.

  This particular execution carried much public interest because Gaius was the high priest of Jupiter; king of the gods. In their eyes the man had a direct link to the divine and could do no wrong, so the public was outraged that their revered religious leader now stood trial.

  Hastelloy couldn’t understand the tactical logic of the trial. Being the high priest meant Gaius could not command armies and therefore posed no threat to Sulla. Perhaps he saw how much influence the charismatic young priest held over the people of Rome. Gaius technically could not command armed soldiers, but he could influence those who did to do his bidding. Perhaps that was the reasoning, so Hastelloy decided to attend the open air trial himself to make sure.

  The prisoner was led to the top of the judiciary building steps by two soldiers dressed and armed in full military attire. The prisoner still wore the badge of his office on the left shoulder of his pristine white toga. Sulla strutted over to Gaius and removed the ornate pin declaring, “You stand trial today as a common citizen, not as Jupiter’s ambassador to this world. Your interference in matters not concerning the faith forces you to relinquish this office.”

  The large, and growing crowd, responded with shouts and jeers. The accused man simply stood quiet, refusing to show any emotions on the matter. It was as if he was just any other observer of the trial rather then the subject of it. The angry crowd finally quieted down so the Crier could read the charges and begin testimony.

  “On this day Gaius Julius Caesar stands trial for high treason against the state and interests of every Roman citizen. We will now hear evidence for and against.”

  In rapid succession an endless line of citizens, under Sulla’s payroll no doubt, spoke of the prisoner’s vile deeds. Speeches inciting rebellion, financial contributions from the temple treasury to support Marius, plotting to kill opponents, and even an incestuous sexual relationship with his sister were alleged.

  The fact was almost all of Marius’ supporters during the civil war worshiped at the Temple of Jupiter on a regular basis so there probably was some truth to the accusations. Still, the basis of the case was circumstantial; however, any man, woman, or child who could divulge what was said inside the temple were already dead. The order of trials and executions made sure of this convenient fact.

  With the prosecution’s case made, the Crier invited the defendant to present evidence of his innocence. Young Julius Caesar gave a bold yet brief reply.

  “I see no need to give evidence in this case. No credible evidence has been given to prove my guilt.”

  The magistrate jumped right in before the crowd could stir up a response. “Very well, the facts are clear. Gaius Julius Caesar is hereby found guilty of treason against the state and sentenced to death. The sentence will be carried out immediately.”

  The guards on either side of Caesar forced him to his knees, drew their blades and made ready to carry out the sentence. Sulla put a stop to their actions.

  “No. I will not allow this traitor’s blood to stain the beautiful stones of this great city. Take him to the Forum Boarium. The meat market is the only place that will not be sullied further from the touch of this traitor’s vile fluids.”

  The soldiers dragged Caesar back to his feet and descended the steps to start the quarter mile march of public humiliation to the spot of his execution. It was astonishing how calm the man was as he walked with an air of serenity about him. Either he was in a state of shock, or he knew something no one else knew.

  If it were Hastelloy in that circumstance he imagined his actions would be much the same since the Nexus and accompanying regeneration chamber would bring him back to life. No real harm would be done so there was no real reason to worry. Caesar on the other hand was facing the end of his existence. Something in the man’s calm demeanor was not right.

  A dozen soldiers cleared a path through the crowd as the prisoner was escorted to his execution. Most in the crowd turned to holler either support or insults at the man, while others simply went about their daily business. One individual among the crowd crossed just in front of Caesar and the trailing mob let out a collective gasp.

  The woman wore a flowing floor length gown of white. Above her head was a matching white headdress that draped over her shoulders along with a set of red and white ribbons. The pure white garments only enhanced the angelic glow the woman projected as she came to a full stop in front of the prisoner. She slowly turned to him as though she just became aware of his presence at that moment. Almost as an afterthought she gently placed her hand on Caesar’s shoulder and quietly said, “You are pardoned for your crimes,” before continuing on her path as if nothing happened.

  Once the woman passed Sulla shouted, “Well what are you waiting for, press on to the Boarium.”

  The crowd erupted in protests, and even the magistrate, who handed out the sentence joined in. “The Vestal Virgin has pardoned the prisoner on his way to execution. By law the prisoner is to be set free.”

  The crowd shouted in agreement.

  “The law also states it must be a meeting of chance,” Sulla countered. “Clearly this crossing of paths was prearranged and therefore nullifies the law.”

  This time Caesar himself spoke up. “I fully expected to die on the steps of the judicial building. You, and no one else, chose to move the location.”

  Caesar turned to the crowd and declared. “The gods have favored me with a chance meeting and pardon from a sacred Vestal Virgin. The law was not written by men, but ordained by the gods themselves.”

  Caesar turned to square off against Sulla, “Like it or not, the gods have spoken through that priestess of Vesta. My life is to be spared.”

  Sulla looked around to take a read of the crowd. In an instant he gauged if the execution moved forward his would immediately follow at the hands of the faithful crowd.

  A snarl crossed his f
ace when he next looked upon Caesar, but then he forced a smile. “Your words are true. I chose the path and the gods put a Vestal Virgin upon it to grant your pardon.”

  Sulla then looked beyond Caesar to address the crowd. “Be warned though, I see many a Marius in him.”

  Caesar visibly let loose a sigh of relief and soon made his way back to his private residence. He promptly left the city, knowing full well Sulla’s assassins would eventually carry out the execution in a less public setting. He left Rome to seek his fortunes through military service.

  While the crowd was occupied watching the miraculously freed man walking home, Hastelloy climbed a flight of steps to have a look around the forum grounds. Sure enough, he spotted three more women in white veils and flowing gowns scurrying in various directions.

  Hastelloy conceded a quiet laugh as he reasoned all seven of the ceremonial Vestal Virgins were probably out and about this fine day just in case Julius Caesar happened to be led in their direction.

  “Well played. I couldn’t have orchestrated it better myself. The former high priest of Jupiter will definitely bear watching in the future, as will the Vestals.” he said quietly to himself.

  Hastelloy now understood Caesar’s motivation for letting his arrest and trial happen while looking so calm. Caesar wanted to shed his ceremonial title and he knew full well the Vestals would pardon him on his way to the gallows. Now he was free to pursue the military career his title of high priest excluded him from doing. An added, yet not insignificant benefit of the ordeal was the citizens of Rome now believed he carries the god’s favor.

  **********

  “Gaius Julius Caesar,” Jeffrey said reverently. “The Julius Caesar? Beware the Ides of March Julius Caesar?”