Like the three hundred Spartans at Thermopylae, the narrow gate and the short distances forced the advancing enemy into a narrow corridor, minimizing their numerical advantage. When they realized their tactical deficiency, small groups of men began scaling the walls in an attempt to flank our position. Gunfire from inside the house indicated that some men were indeed trying to work their way in through the rear of our position. All those who attempted to come over the walls were summarily put down like those who had tried earlier.
So far we weren’t running through too much ammo, only taking pot shots at the climbers, not wasting our time on low priority targets presenting themselves at the gate. Only a few times did I need to fire into the crowd when I saw a Praetorian in desperate need for aid.
So far the battle was going well. The enemy’s tactic of sending in the civilians first had backfired. Our soldiers had practically pushed them back to the gates, and now the rebel Praetorians would not have the opportunity to push into the courtyard and form their lines before charging at us, a full complement of pila at their disposal. Now, they had to push through the gates on an equal footing. If only they didn’t outnumber us by so much, we might have had a chance of standing our ground, instead of just fighting a delaying effort.
Then, a dozen feet or so from the gate, I saw the first major snag in our plan.
Smack dab in the middle of both sets of Roman Praetorians, the enemy ones just beginning to show their faces outside, stood Marcus Varus, poorly attempting to blend in with the angry mob around him.
I saw him, and he saw me, and I knew he was only trying to reach his friend, Caligula.
The ballsy bastard was going to get himself killed.
I mumbled in frustration as I turned to Marcus. “Get ready, my friend. It’s time for a rescue operation.” Unsure as to what I meant exactly, his eyes narrowed in confusion, but he made ready to follow me all the same.
Waving my hand, I grabbed Helena’s attention. “Cover me. I forgot my smiley face boxers back in our room.”
“Wait, what are you…” Helena began as I took off down the stairs. I heard her call out behind me, but her words were drowned out in a roar of voices.
Running along the flank of my allies, I was doing my best to think of a plan on the move. I had grenades on me, but knowing Varus was in there, I couldn’t just toss them in. In close quarters, my pistol was my best bet, but against sword and shield, I had little to protect myself.
As I made my way to the front line, I got an idea.
Grabbing Marcus and four other Praetorians, I started issuing orders. “About six rows into the enemy is a friend of mine. We need to get him. He’s Caligula’s friend as well.” That was all they needed to know. “What I need you to do is form a loose semicircle in front of me, and just push through the enemy’s line, a little left of center. You’re going to have to trust me, but do not stop to engage unless someone gets in your way. When I give the word, duck behind your shields and wait. You’ll know when to fall back.”
The men looked at me bravely, only partly understanding their orders.
“You hear that, Strauss?” I radioed Helena.
“Are you fucking nuts? You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“You know, you sound really cute when you swear.”
“Jacob…”
“Just shoot the guys behind me. I’ll be fine.”
Pissed off, the only response I received from her was a double click. At least she wouldn’t let me die. At least not on purpose.
“Okay, Praetorians. Form up.”
The five men, Marcus at the tip of the formation, pulled in front of me, and waited for my order.
“Go!”
My escorts took off, not running, but quicker than anyone else on the battlefield. Our front line opened just enough to let us through, and we began pushing the mob aside. The insanity of our attack worked well enough to both confuse, and distract the mob as we pushed through. I heard the familiar cracking noise of shattered skulls coming from behind me, as well as the touch of warm liquid splashing against my neck, hapless men who paid me too much attention, catching Helena’s. Three fourths of the way there I took a sword blow to my right shoulder, luckily protected by my shoulder armor. It would bruise, but I wasn’t cut. My attacker was rewarded with two rounds through his chest, compliments of my Sig. After another blunted sword blow across my lower back, and one of my guardians beaten down, Varus was in arms reach. Hauling his ass beside me, I grabbed a grenade with my free hand, pulled the pin with my teeth, counted to three, and tossed it over my human shield’s heads in the direction of the enemy Praetorians, mere arm lengths away.
Pulling Varus to the ground, I shouted, “Down!”
My men went to their knees, and locked their shields, their backs to mine. Within the few seconds that followed, I took a club to my side and a slash against my underarm, missing the gel pad, that one drawing blood. The first man I shot in the head, but the second was taken off his feet by the force of the grenade that had just gone off.
In such close proximity, the grenade did maximum damage. Men in a ten yard radius were either on the ground dead, or dying. I took full advantage and shouted for my men to run. Before I could flee as well, I had one more job to do. Twisting at my waist, I took careful aim with one of the last bullets in my pistol, and shot the lead centurion in the head.
Thankfully, my Praetorians, while disoriented by the explosion, still had sense enough to run. Most of the civilian mob, however, were either still on the ground, shaking their heads clear, or fleeing in panic. Running on pure adrenaline, losing more blood than I thought from my arm, I quickly grabbed Varus, and rolled another grenade in the direction of the enemy soldiers. I was well within my lines by the time it detonated within theirs, taking out at least twenty more soldiers.
Frightened and temporarily leaderless, the Praetorians outside the gates fell back, just enough to allow their fleeing civilian allies to run, leaving only the professional soldiers.
Dragging Varus up the steps, I pushed him in the doorway.
“Go! Caligula’s in his room. We’re trying to buy some time before we can move him out of here.”
“Th-thank you. I…”
“Just go! You can thank me later.”
He nodded and ran inside.
I watched him flee inside before stumbling back towards a column behind me. My back fell against it roughly, but I managed to slowly slide myself to the floor as I clutched my arm in pain. I pulled back my sleeve, revealing a nasty laceration that ran from mid forearm to my elbow. Looking over my shoulder at the battle, I didn’t see Helena crouch down next to me.
I was rewarded with a slap to my face.
“Ow!” I yelled, clutching my stung cheek. “That was the only thing that didn’t hurt!”
“Don’t you ever do something stupid like that again!” Her tone was angry but her expression relieved. “What were you thinking?”
“I had to save Varus. He’s… important.”
I guess he was. For all I knew, he may be a direct ancestor of mine and I couldn’t let him get killed now. Who knows what kind of paradox I’d create then. A “great, great, great times one hundred grandfather paradox,” or maybe I’d just wink out of existence. The universe might just implode for all I knew. Or maybe I’d prove that grandfather paradoxes are nothing but shit science.
“Well, he’d better be,” she said, grabbing my arm roughly. “This is bad. It needs to be treated.”
I turned to look out over the battlefield again, seeing that both sides of Praetorians had not yet engaged. One was scared, while the other was just stalling for time. Once the enemy found another centurion to rally his troops, the fighting would reach a whole new level of bloodiness.