When the Eagle Hunts

'Or maybe Vellocatus was in the raiding party himself,' Macro added.

As Boudica translated from the Latin, Prasutagus looked hard at the platter, and then suddenly rose to his feet, turned towards Vellocatus and started to draw his sword.

'No!' Cato jumped up and clasped Prasutagus by his sword hand. 'We've no proof. I might be wrong. Killing them serves no purpose. It'll just alert the Durotriges to our presence if they find him dead.'

Boudica translated and Prasutagus frowned, softly uttering a string of oaths. He released his grip on the sword handle and folded his arms.

'But if you're right about this Vellocatus,' Macro pointed out, 'then we can't let him live to tell any passer-by that he's seen us. We'll have to kill him and the rest of them here before dawn.'

Cato was shocked. 'Sir, we don't have to do that.'

'You got a better idea?'

The young optio thought fast under the cool gaze of the others.

'If Vellocatus is working with the Durotriges, we might yet turn that to our advantage by making sure that whatever he tells anyone else serves our ends.'

Chapter Twenty-Two

They set off again in darkness, following Vellocatus down a track to the ford. The party had breakfasted on the unwarmed remains of the broth, which was scant comfort in the clammy mist that hung over the icy water and shrouded the willow trees lining the bank. At the edge of the ford Vellocatus stood to one side, watching them mount. When all was ready, Prasutagus leaned down from his saddle and quietly thanked their host, clasping him by the hand. Then as the farmer stepped back into the black shadows of the willows, Prasutagus spurred his horse and the quiet was broken by the churning splash of the horses entering the river. The shock of the freezing water startled the animals and they whi

'Are we happy?' gri

'Are we fuck!' Cato completed the army saying with feeling.

'This was your idea, remember? Bloody well should have let you go on your own after all.'

'Yes, sir.'

The river bed gradually sloped up to the far bank, and the horses eagerly emerged from the freezing water. Looking back across the disturbed surface they could see almost nothing of the far side, their last sight of friendly land. In case Cato's suspicion of Vellocatus was justified, they first went upriver, away from the strongholds of the Durotriges, and increased their pace to a quick trot so that the sound of their hoofbeats on the beaten track would carry across the water back to the farmer, if he was waiting and listening beneath the willows.

A mile down the track, they halted, turned south-west, and quietly walked their horses through the cold wetland until they rejoined the track leading inland from the ford. As the first light of day began to filter through the darkness, Prasutagus quickened the pace, anxious not to be caught in the open once dawn had broken. At a gentle canter they followed the track until the surrounding land became more firm and the wetlands gave way to meadows, and then clumps of more substantial trees. Before long they had entered a small forest. Prasutagus followed the trail a short distance and then branched off along a twisting side path that led deep into an area where pine trees grew, evergreen and straight-trunked. As the lower branches closed in on either side, they had to dismount and lead their horses on foot. At length, the narrow path opened out into a small clearing. Cato was surprised to see a small timber hut faced with turf to one side. All around it stood bare wooden frames. Above the lintel over the hut's door hung the skull of a stag with a spectacular set of antlers. Nothing moved.

'I thought we were supposed to be avoiding the locals,' Macro hissed at Boudica.

'We are,' she relayed the answer back. 'This is a Druid hunting lodge. We'll spend the day here, resting. We'll continue along the main track at dusk.'

Once the horses had been relieved of their baggage and tethered, Prasutagus pushed aside the heavy leather flap that served as a door to the hut and they went inside. There was the usual beaten earth floor and a framework of pine branches held up the tightly packed thatch of the roof. A rich scent of pine and mustiness filled their nostrils. A small hearth stood at one end below an opening in the roof, and a line of simple wooden cots lined the rear wall. The bracken in the cots was slightly damp but serviceable.

'Seems comfortable enough,' said Macro. 'But how safe are we here?'

'We're safe,' Boudica replied. 'The Druids only use the lodge in summer, and most of the Durotriges are too scared of the Druids to venture anywhere near this place.'

Macro tested one of the cots with a hand, then stretched out on the rustling bracken. 'Ahhh! Now that's what I call comfortable.'

'Better get as much rest as you can. We've quite a way to go when it gets dark.'

'Fair enough.'

Cato eased himself into the next cot, eyes already heavy at the prospect of slumber. A nagging anxiety over the trustworthiness of Vellocatus had robbed him of sleep the night before and his mind was dull with exhaustion. He lay back and pulled his cloak tightly about him. His aching eyes closed and his mind quickly drifted away from the harsh discomforts of the real world.

Prasutagus regarded the Romans with a faint look of contempt, then turned back towards the low doorway. Macro quickly propped himself up.

'Where do you think you're going?'

Prasutagus made a quick gesture towards his mouth. 'Find food.'

Macro stared at the Briton, wondering how far he could be relied on.

Prasutagus held his gaze for a moment then turned and ducked out of the lodge. A flash of pearly daylight filled the interior before the leather curtain fell back across the doorway and all was still and silent in the lodge. With his veteran's instinct to snatch whatever rest he could, Macro fell asleep almost at once.

He awoke with a start, eyes snapping open, perplexed by the tangle of pine branches above his head. Then a sense of location returned and Macro remembered he was in the lodge. From the pale quality of the light filtering in from a narrow slit in the wall it was clear that dusk was approaching. He had been asleep for almost the entire day then. A snapping crackle of twigs sounded from the end of the lodge and Macro twisted his head round. Boudica was squatting down next to the hearth with a pile of kindling at her side. She reached for another handful as he watched. There was no sign of Prasutagus, and no sound from outside. Cato was still deeply asleep and lay with his mouth open, his breathing accompanied by an occasional clicking at the back of his throat.

'It's time we talked,' said Macro quietly.

Boudica appeared not to have heard him, and continued snapping twigs, arranging them in a nest around the clump of dry bracken she had pulled from one of the cots.

'Boudica, I said it's time we talked.'

'I heard you,' she replied without turning round. 'But what's the point? It's over between us.'