Avenging Angels (Bad Times Book 3)

a polyglot of peoples from all over the region. There were Jews, Arabs, Greeks, Armenians, Macedonians, Dacians, Parthians, Dalmatians, and every other people and race that lived beneath the rule of Tiberius Rex.
There was enough variety of custom, dress, and appearance that four American men in t-shirts, oddly patterned kilts (Lee in his BDUs), and boots did not rate any special attention. Their weapons and armor were concealed on the animals’ backs. They wore knives on their belts as the only visible means of protection. Bat had her Sig in a cross-draw holster concealed under a loose linen blouse that also hid her figure.
Bat was surprised at how little Roman presence she saw as they made their way along the dusty streets. From the wharves to the market, they saw only a few Roman soldiers and those seemed to be more interested in shopping. She naively expected the past to be like the movies, stolid legionnaires tramping everywhere behind their shields and columns of slaves in chains being urged on by lashes from a bullwhip. Except for some of the architecture, there was no sign that this city was under imperial rule of any kind.
It looked like any bustling seaside town in stark contrast to the tomb-like atmosphere they’d encountered the night before. There was no sense of either tyranny or rebellion in the air. No one seemed to be rankling under the yoke of oppression. She remembered that slaves did not wear any outward sign of their servitude under Roman law. There was no way to know how many of the people they passed were chattel to the Romans, or even Judeans. She felt vaguely disappointed. Except for the lack of honking cars and radios blaring everywhere, she could be in modern Haifa.
She realized there was another difference. In modern Haifa, you saw signs of the military everywhere. The IDF was a constant presence in a nation under perpetual threat from terrorists seeking its demise. It was a testament to how absolute Roman authority was here that there were so few soldiers in evidence and the port was left unguarded. Any real challenge to the rule of the Caesars was centuries away.
This place and time had a feeling of the surreal. Bat had to remind herself that this was real, not a re-creation. They were actually in the distant past. They were in so alien a period that they could openly speak English and not fear being overheard. Their language would not exist in anything like the form they used for over a thousand years or more. The Angles and Saxons were still far to the north in their deep forests. The British Isles were occupied by Picts and Celts and, for now, beyond the rule of Rome. And America was a place undreamed of beyond the waters of the Mare Incognita where the world ended. The thought of that made her a bit dizzy.
They drew some stares as they followed the streets eastward. It wasn’t for their dress but for their height and the diverse mix of the group. Boats with his flowing red hair and beard, Chaz’s ebony skin, and Jimbo’s high cheekbones and striking profile. Lee stood out with the array of multicolored tattoos running down his arms. Only Bat fit the place and time with her olive complexion and raven curls held back by a strip of cloth. No one challenged them, only watched and remarked. The odd caravan moved on through a gate and until the streets became dirt paths and they left the city behind.
In a lane between rows of date palms, they decided to saddle up and make time. Before mounting, Jimbo had taken down a gear bag to remove his Winchester. He slid it into a leather boot and strapped it to the saddle where it would be ready at hand. The rest found their sidearms and strapped on. Their holsters were concealed-carry models. To anyone seeing them, they would look like the kind of purses men wore on their belts to hold coins. They also retrieved CamelBaks, binoculars, boonie hats, and meal packs.
Bat added the snubby in a thigh holster to her arsenal, securing it under the hem of her kilt.
“Sexy,” Lee remarked.
“Me or the Colt? Don’t answer that,” she added quickly with a squint.
Jimbo and Bat mounted easily despite the lack of stirrups or pommel. It took Lee and Boats a few tries. The worst time of all was had by Chaz. He pulled his mount to a section of a low stone wall that he used as a step. The horse won three out of four falls before Chaz got firmly situated.
“I thought you spent summers on your Uncle Red’s farm,” Jimbo said.
“I didn’t spend them playing cowboy,” Chaz said, urging the horse forward with a slap of the reins.
“You always picked the fattest horse when we were in Helmand,” Lee said.
“Fat horses are safer. They don’t take off with you,” Chaz answered. “This bitch has a gleam in her eye I don’t like.”
“I’ll stay by you,” Bat said and leaned from the saddle to run a hand down the neck of Chaz’s mount. “Who’s a good girl?” she cooed. The horse’s ears came forward.
Jimbo rode ahead to scout. The rest followed at a trot leading the pack horses behind them. Before them, they could see the land rising to the blue ridge of mountains.
They knew from their maps that it fell away beyond those peaks to the deep Jordan Valley and the Sea of Galilee before ascending again to the Golan Heights. The orchards and farms would give way soon to the broken country of hills and defiles where they would need to be wary. While the Romans held the cities and surrounding areas, the land they rode for was without law of any kind.

22


Drive Curious
They were on the E-60 heading north and west for Auxerre. The highway was mostly sunken for long lengths between hills but would sometimes climb a rise. Then Caroline could