The Eagles Conquest

Chapter Forty-Four

At dawn the watches at the forts changed and Cato led his half-century back down the slope to the camp. The strain of the night watch was over, and the men were looking forward to spending the day resting, especially as the army would soon be on the move. All the rigours of marching with fully loaded yokes and packs, constructing marching camps and eating endless meals of millet porridge would begin again.

Although the clear sky promised another perfect day, Cato could not share their light mood this morning. Nisus was dead. Warfare was wasteful enough of human life without adding to its toll by accident. What made the death of Nisus even harder to bear were the mysterious circumstances of his earlier disappearance. If he had been killed in battle then that would have been sad but not unexpected. But something was very wrong about this death, and his recent actions made Calo suspicious. He needed to know more, and right now the only clue he had was the strangely marked bandage tucked inside his tunic. He firmly believed that the solution to the mystery somehow lay with Vitellius. The tribune had worked on Nisus, changed him and made him complicit in whatever treachery Vitellius might be pla

Cato had to speak to someone. Someone he could trust, who would take his suspicions seriously. Macro might ridicule his fears, or just as easily charge in with some formal complaint against the tribune. It had to be someone else.. Lavinia. Of course. He would find her, take her to some peaceful place away from the camp, and open his heart to her.

He stripped off his armour and weapons, scrubbed the dried splashes of blood from his face and hands, and put on a fresh tunic.

As he crossed the bridge, he noted the frantic activity of the camp on the south bank; the army was preparing to move on to the offensive. Cato had to pick his way through the massed baggage of the imperial entourage and the Praetorian Guard. Unlike the camp on the other bank, this one was filled with a sense of eager anticipation, as if the army was about to lay on a spectacular military display rather than go out and fight a determined and dangerous enemy. The wagons of the imperial court were heaped with expensive furniture that had never been designed to leave the luxurious boudoirs of Rome and had suffered a battering as a result. There were huge chests of clothes, musical instruments, ornamental di

Cato threaded his way out of the wagon park and headed for the enclosure used by the Emperor's entourage. A large gate co

'Purpose of your visit?'

'To see a friend. Handmaid to the Lady Flavia Domitilla.'

'Do you have a pass signed by the chief secretary?'

'No.'

'No entry then.'

'Why?'

'Orders.'

Cato glared at the guards, who stood at attention staring casually back, quite unfazed. Cato knew that there would be no talking his way through. The men of the Praetorian Guard were experts at gate-keeping and obeyed orders to the letter. Shouting abuse would be a waste of breath, Cato decided. Added to which, the guard who had addressed him had the physique of a gladiator; he was not the kind of man he wished to be confronted by if ever they met off duty.

Cato turned and strolled into the wagon park. Amid the confusion of soldiers, clerks and household slaves, he ran his eyes over the outside of the enclosure surrounding the imperial entourage. A number of the wagons had already been packed and dragged to one side, close to the palisade. One wagon in particular caught his attention: a heavy four-wheeled affair piled high with brightly decorated leather tents, folded and tied down. The load was so high that it stood level with the top of the palisade. Cato made his way round the wagon park so that he could approach the wagons out of sight of the guards. After quickly checking to make sure that no one was watching him, he slipped between the packed wagons and worked his way over to the one carrying the tents. He clambered up and lay flat on the top, only raising his head to peer over the palisade and into the enclosure of the Emperor's travelling companions.

Out of sight of the army, the social elite of Rome made camp with the smallest of concessions to the hardships of campaigning. Huge tents sprawled across the enclosure, and through the openings of those tents facing him Cato could see ornately tiled flooring and expensive furniture within. Some members of the imperial court had awnings erected outside their tents and they reclined on upholstered benches, waited upon by the slaves they had brought with them from the city. The centre of the enclosure had been left open to serve as a social space, but the intensity of the previous night's partying meant it was almost empty. Cato looked carefully at the few figures visible but none of them was Lavinia. So he lay on top of the wagon and waited, sometimes nearly dozing off in the sun's warm glow. Every time a female figure emerged from a tent, Cato raised his head and strained his eyes to see if it was Lavinia.

Then at last, not far from where he lay, a tent flap was flicked open and a slender woman in a diaphanous green gown stepped stiffly into the shadow of the awning. She stretched out her arms and yawned, before moving into the sunlight where Cato could see the jet-black tresses of her hair. He was filled with a heady sense of lightness. For a moment he watched Lavinia, drinking in her every movement as she leaned back against the post supporting the front of the awning, and tipped her face up towards the sun.

Then she scratched her backside and turned to go back into the tent.

Cato began to rise, desperate that she should see him and not disappear after such a tantalisingly brief appearance. If she caught sight of him, he might be able to indicate that they could meet outside the enclosure. Cato raised his hand, and was about to wave when a movement at the periphery of his vision attracted his attention.

Through the gate of the enclosure strode Tribune Vitellius. The chill that Cato always experienced at the sight of the man returned to him instantly, as with sickening inevitability the tribune walked straight towards Lavinia, who had her back to him and was unaware of his approach. Vitellius stalked up to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. She spun round with a start. Cato rose to his knees, ready to rush to her rescue without regard to the impossibility of reaching her in the heavily guarded enclosure. He raised his hands to call out but before he could utter a sound he was suddenly pulled by his feet with great force off the top of the wagon. He tumbled down the side and landed heavily on the ground, the breath driven out of him. A pair of boots thudded down by his face, and in an instant later Cato hauled up,gasping for air like a stranded fish.

'And what the fuck d'you think you're up to, my lad?'

Cato recognised the face of the Praetorian Guardsman from the enclosure gate, He tried to reply, but the lack of breath in his lungs caused him to wheeze instead.

'refusing to answer, eh? Well then, let's see if my centurion can loosen your tongue. and maybe a few teeth while he's at it.'

The guard twisted his fist into Cato's hair and half pulled, half dragged him across the wagon park towards the headquarters tent. The slaves and legionaries packing the remaining wagons paused to watch the unedifying spectacle. Some laughed and Cato felt himself colour at the shame of being seen to be treated like some naughty schoolboy.