Praetorian Series [4] All Roads Lead to Rome by Edward Crichton Page A

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    I gave them a distrustful look, then I pointed at my eyes with my pointer and middle finger before jabbing it in their direction a couple of times.  They huffed and stamped their feet in place for a moment before settling down, and I knew they got the message.
    I shook my head and turned back to Felix, catching Agrippina’s horse out of the corner of my eye.  “And watch out for Clytemnestra over there.  I think she’s in to you.”
    Felix gave me a bashful look as he shifted his head away from her, and I chuckled as I turned to follow Agrippina into the lodge.  Once inside, I took quick stock of the accommodations.  At the central point of the enormous room, a few strides through the front door, was a large fire pit with a smoldering fire that I knew could keep the entire structure warm and cozy all night.  Above was a square portico for ventilation.  Off to the left and right where hallways, and dotting both sides of these hallways were rooms cordoned off by little more than curtains, which I eyed cautiously as I entered the atrium, not trusting the security standards of this establishment one bit.
    Agrippina was already speaking to the owner of the lodge, probably negotiating a rate for the night as I knew the shrewd woman was prone to do.  We didn’t have nearly as much liquid currency as I’d once had, as our mission to Britain had practically bankrupted me, but I still had a little left over, and of course we had what I’d just taken off our target dummies earlier.  But the idea was to remain as inconspicuous as possible, which didn’t seem particularly easy considering who we were, but it wasn’t like the Roman Empire possessed the internet or twenty-four-seven, round the clock TV news coverage.  Most citizens and non-citizens who called portions of the Roman Empire home probably didn’t even know the name of their current emperor or empress, let alone have any idea of what they looked like.  Agrippina was probably about as anonymous as an attractive bar wench – although I supposed it was true that she had a tendency to draw more attention than was needed for that very reason.
    I pushed the thought out of my mind, but it quickly returned as I pulled up short just behind Agrippina. One of the old “Wanted” posters with my face on it was displayed on the wall.  It wasn’t a super accurate depiction, the art style sort of reminiscent of what you would find in an old Byzantine Catholic church, and like all the others I’d seen over the years, this one looked just a little bit different than all the others.  But what really drew my attention was that someone had scratched a beard onto my face. I wasn’t sure if the added facial hair was an act of simple vandalism, or if, somehow, someone already knew I was coming.
    Trying to ignore the thought and remain cool and collected so that I didn’t appear guilty, I finally stepped up behind Agrippina.  She had her polite face on, which was one I rarely saw, and her voice was as deceptively sexy as I’d ever heard as she concluded her transaction with the portly owner.  He sat behind a counter and in something of a booth, just as one would find in a modern day equivalent of a shady roadside motel back home.  He eyed me suspiciously, but again I wasn’t sure if he recognized me from the Wanted poster or if he was simply wondering what this bearded, skinny, ragged-looking schmuck was doing with an ethereal beauty like Agrippina.
    But then all was well as Agrippina passed him some coins, probably more than was needed, and the man slumped off his stool and unenthusiastically escorted us to our rooms.  He led us off toward the right of the fire pit and down a long, wide hall, stopping in front of the third door on the right – a great choice as it would let us keep an eye on the horses outside.
    I glanced at my surroundings, noticing a large figure in the room across from us whose face was concealed by dark shadows and a small cadre of young