As I’ve said, I’m not an expert on the Roman-Jewish War of 66 A.D., but there was more to it than Roman and Greek dislike for the Jewish people alone. Besides the social upheaval, there was economic mismanagement, religious disenfranchisement, political pandering, and most importantly, the impetuousness of youth.
As it was in any society, the driving force behind any kind of social resistance or protest started with the idealistic young people. I’ve got nothing against voicing one’s opinions, even if they do go against the norms of an institution, because the ability to protest and voice that opinion is a fundamental right that should be granted to all humanity.
Unfortunately, unlike the generally understanding America I left, the Roman Empire wasn’t exactly lenient when it came to its recalcitrant troublemakers. As a result, it brought down the wrathful fury of its legions upon the small province of Judea.
So, here we were, twenty five years earlier, placing our faith in the theory that if you wanted to get shit done, you see the young people first. Sociologists would leap at the opportunity to be in our position right now. If we could rally the young people of today, who were in fact the same old men who were probably content to live under Roman rule and opposed the war in 66 A.D. in the original timeline, we’d be verifying a very interesting social paradigm.
So, we had some plans, and I must say, for once, not half-assed ones. We were ready this time, and I had the full support of my team. Oh, sorry I was so brash in my last journal entry, but I was too excited to put any serious thought into anything. Vincent, Bordeaux and Wang were back and had a few friends with them. Bordeaux had his wife, Madrina, and Vincent his step son, Titus. Madrina was a hell of a cook, and since Bordeaux would never risk putting her directly in harm’s way, became the team’s central organizer. She handled the expenses, logistics, inventory, and made sure everything ran smoothly, and she was pretty good at it. I guess raising kids does that to people.
As for Titus, Vincent had been training him to replace him for the past few years, as his lost arm drastically hindered his combat effectiveness. Nineteen years old, the kid was strong, fast, smart, and a good shot. We’d given him the spare combat fatigues meant for McDougal, along with our fallen commander’s G36 assault rifle, and he started fitting in just fine.
He was too quiet though. Never said a damn thing. And he still calls me by my first and last name. That was aggravating.
Okay. I’m not adding anymore spoilers. If you’ve read your history and already know what’s going to happen, great, if not, you’re just going have to wait like the rest of us.
“What’re you smirking at?” Santino asked as he munched on a piece of bread.
“Hmm?” I replied distractedly. “Oh, just taking a little pleasure out of baiting my future readers. I’m going to make a movie out of this yet!”
Santino shook his head and waved his pita bread at me, trying to swallow his latest mouthful. Middle Eastern cuisine hadn’t changed much in two thousand years, and I was happily enjoying pita bread, falafels, and a classic shish-ka-bob, complete with vegetables and meat.
“No, that’s not it,” Santino managed finally. “Something else.” He tapped his chin in thought. “Isn’t your birthday coming up?”
“Nope,” I said honestly. He was late by a week
It hadn’t been as horrendous as I’d thought it would be, now that Helena knew about it. Although, she did force me to admit how old I was, just so she could carve a number into the MRE dessert cake she gave me. At least she reluctantly agreed with my theory that I was now thirty one, and not thirty two due to the lost months during our trip through time.
It took some doing though.
“Then what? I haven’t seen you this pleased with yourself in years. Helena wear something sexy to b…”
“No,” I answered quickly. I wasn’t going to let him have the pleasure of forming the mental image.
“Just tell me! It’s not like we’re really doing anything right now. Just waiting. Like always.”
I wrapped up my journal and dropped it in the bag I’d bought in Byzantium, and turned to survey my surroundings. Santino and I were sitting in a nice café on a balcony overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. We had a beautiful view, and even though it was at least ninety degrees Fahrenheit outside, the dry air made it bearable and the sea breeze, comfortable.
“This isn’t exciting to you? Get your blood boiling?” I asked him, pumping my fists. “We’re done sneaking around. Done not knowing what to do next. We’re taking control for once. It’s like we’re on some grand adventure now instead of just half-assing it. I’m instigating an open rebellion against one of the most dominant world powers to ever grace civilizations, usurping an empress with my own emperor, pitting two political sides against each other, and possibly changing the course of world history!” I paused for dramatic effect. “And looking good doing it.”
I brushed my hands through my newly cut hair to emphasize my point. I’d let it grow almost to my shoulders in Byzantium, but now it was back to my preferred length of short, but still longer than Navy regulations. It was much more comfortable this way and Helena really liked it too.
Santino had cut his hair as well, along with shaving his beard. His new hairstyle was popular throughout the empire these days, stylized after how Julius Caesar wore his hair: short, with tiny little curls for bangs. His freshly shaved face was also a local Roman grooming standard and set him apart from many of the local Jews who sported bushy facial hair. Combined with his stupid grin and myriad of dashing scars, he had even more luck with the ladies these days, a fact he let few forget, especially Wang. Helena’s little joke a month ago had spawned some kind of competition between the two, apparently the only objective of which being to sleep with as many women as possible.
Santino was winning, and whenever he wins at anything, is generally pretty annoying about it.
Santino yawned. “Some grand adventure. All we’ve been doing is sitting on our asses for three weeks.” He looked out over the Mediterranean. “Nice view, though.”
“You’re worthless,” I commented. “Only you couldn’t get caught up in all this.”
“This isn’t a Dan Brown book, Jacob. This is real life.”
I tilted my head to the side. “You can read?”
He smiled. “I’ve seen the movies.”
I sighed, resigning myself to Santino’s mood. He was right. We were doing a lot of waiting these days, but political scandals took a long time to work themselves out.
“Will you two please stop bickering,” the faint voice of Helena said in my ear piece. “Try and stay focused.”
“What?” I said, pretending her words were somehow shocking and insulting. “No way. Are you telling me it’s okay if you and I bicker, but I can’t even argue with my best pal?”
“Yeah, mommy,” Santino chimed in, the both of us on VOX. “I’m just hanging with my besty. Gee, Hunter, you sure can pick em. Always the needy, clingy, bitchy ones.”
I nodded my head in agreement. “You know what, John? You’re absolutely right. Maybe I should listen to you more often”
“Been sayin it for years.”
“Of all the…”Helena said, anger now clearly evident. “You two know I can shoot you right…”
“Stop,” the drawn out voice of Vincent interrupted in an obviously annoyed manner.
Santino and I exchanged smiles and traded air high fives. Having everyone back together brought out the worst in us, and the past couple of weeks had been just like those first few weeks in Rome, with Santino cracking jokes, me backing him up, and Helena hating every moment of it.
Of course, back then all she would do is playfully punch me when I annoyed her. Now, she was denying me more recreational and… fun things.