Soldier of Rome: The Last Campaign (The Artorian Chronicles) by James Mace Read Free Book Online

camp. As they did so, Gratus noticed something unusual behind one of the curtains that his men were tearing down in order to use as makeshift sacks.
    “Hey, Cornelius,” he said, drawing his gladius. He quickly pulled the curtain aside, revealing the terrified Claudius, who shrank away from the heavily armed praetorian. “Well , what have we here? You think it’s one of the assassins?”
    “P…please don’t hurt me!” Claudius pleaded as the optio brandished his weapon menacingly. “I j…just want to find my family and leave!”
    “Hold fast!” Cornelius snapped. “He’s not a conspirator; it’s the emperor’s uncle, Claudius. He’s Germanicus Caesar’s brother. Put your weapon away, Gratus.”
    “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt him,” the optio replied, his face breaking into a broad grin. “I’m going to salute him.”
    “What are you on about?” the centurion asked, puzzled.
    “Think about it,” Gratus replied. “He’s the only surviving member of the Julio-Claudian line who could have a legitimate claim to the imperial throne.”
    Cornelius’ eyes brightened, and Claudius’ grew wide in startled realization as to what the praetorian optio was suggesting.
    “N…no!” he protested, his head twitching violently. “W…what you propose is madness! J…just let me g…go find my wife!”
    “Are you insane?” Gratus retorted. “Your nephew’s German guard s are on the rampage, and the conspirators are still loose. We don’t know who all of them are, and unfortunately for you, they’re mostly dressed like us.”
    “If either of them finds you, you’re a dead man,” Cornelius added. He then addressed his optio. “Get him out of here, Gratus. Take some men and see to it he’s delivered safely to the Castra Praetoria. I’ll use the remainder of our force to find his family.”
    “Understood,” Gratus replied. He then bowed to Claudius with his gladius extended in salute. “This way, Caesar .”
    The halls of the palace were mostly deserted as the praetorians led the muddled Claudius along the corridors. Two of the men practically carried him, as his limp made their pace unnervingly slow. As they approached the main entrance, a troupe of German guards came bursting from one of the side passages.
    “Shit,” Gratus uttered through clenched teeth.
    As the Germans approached them with shields and spears ready to strike, the two squads of praetorians formed a protective wall in front of Claudius.
    “ Gladius…draw! Protect the emperor!”
    “Halten!” the lead German said to his men, holding his spear to the side to stop their advance. He had heard Gratus’ order, and speaking passable Latin, he understood what had been said. He cocked his head to one side, giving the group of praetorians, who stood battle ready with their weapons drawn, a perplexed gaze. He then addressed Gratus in heavily accented Latin. “This…emperor?”
    “That’s right,” the optio replied. He hoped to bluff his way past the Germans and avoid a bloody fight. He stepped in front of the large man, who stood at least a half-head taller than him, and met his hard stare. “This is your new emperor, now show him some respect!”
    Whatever Gratus’ racial prejudices towards what he considered ‘barbarian’ peoples; this German was clearly a thinker. He , too, understood that with Caligula dead, the only way to quickly restore order and give them the best chance of bringing the assassins to justice was to install a new emperor as soon as possible. He gave the optio a nod of understanding before turning to address his men.
    “Hagel den Kaiser!” he shouted, holding his spear high.
    His men appeared at first baffled by this assertion from their commander, yet none of them so much as uttered a word in protest. He then turned and bowed deeply to Claudius, who was still in a state of disbelief and simply stood with his head twitching slightly.
    “Call off the rest of your men,” Gratus ordered the