The Eagle and the Wolves

'We can deal with that later,' Cato replied. 'Right now I want Artax taken and held somewhere safe. Somewhere nice and quiet, where we can ask him a few questions.'

'What the bloody hell is going on?' Tribune Quintillus exploded as he marched into Cato's office. 'Why was I called away from my training?' Then he noticed the body on the floor. Cato had arranged his cloak so that it covered Bedriacus' face. Only his bare feet stuck out from the heavy material. 'Who is that joker?'

'Joker, sir?' Cato followed the direction of the tribune's glance. 'That's one of my men. My standard bearer, Bedriacus.'

'Dead?'

Macro nodded. 'Well spotted, sir. Glad to see the army is still pursuing its policy of recruiting the brightest and the best.'

Quintillus ignored the comment, and turned to Cato. 'How?'

'Stabbed, sir.'

'Accident?'

'No.'

'Ah, I see,' Quintillus nodded thoughtfully, and then decided what must have happened. 'Some kind of local grudge thing no doubt. Give the Celts long enough and they'd all kill each other. Save us the job. Do we have the culprit?'

'No, sir,' replied Macro.

'Why not?'

Macro gave Cato a look of exasperation as Quintillus continued without pausing for any kind of response, 'If you haven't caught the killer, then why send for me? Why waste my time? I can't do your job for you, you know. Well?'

'We haven't positively identified the killer yet,' Cato said apologetically. 'But the matter is more complicated, sir.'

'Complicated?' Quintillus smiled. 'What could possibly be complicated about some native brawl?'

'It's not a brawl, sir. Or at least it doesn't seem like one. Tincommius found him in the corridor.'

'Tincommius?' The tribune frowned, before he placed the name, and his face brightened. 'One of those clowns that hang around King Verica? What on earth was he doing in here?'

'He's serving with the two cohorts we raised,' Cato explained. 'So are a great many of the nobles, as it happens.'

'They've done us proud, sir,' Macro added. 'They're good men.'

'Yes, well, quite.' Quintillus turned on Cato. 'What's Tincommius got to do with this killing?'

'As I said, sir, he found Bedriacus on his way to find me.'

'Who was on his way to find you?'

'Bedriacus!' Macro snapped.

Cato shot him a warning look. 'Yes, sir, Bedriacus. He was trying to tell me about something he'd overheard. Something about a plot against King Verica.'

'A plot?' Quintillus laughed. 'What is this? Some cheap matinee performance at Pompey's theatre?'

Cato fought to control his exasperation as he replied. 'Never having had the opportunity to attend Pompey's theatre I wouldn't know about that, sir.'

'You haven't missed anything. But it sounds like someone is trying to make up for your lack of education. Or pulling your leg.'

'Pulling his leg!' Macro shot a finger at the body. 'That's a dead man there, sir. Pretty harsh practical joke, wouldn't you say?'

'Centurion, if you only knew the kinds of things the young blades get up to back in Rome… Still, in this instance, maybe there's something more to it. Please continue, Centurion Cato. About this plot?'

'Yes, sir. That's all we got out of Bedriacus before he died.'

'He didn't happen to let you know who stabbed him?'

'No, sir,' Cato admitted.

'Oh, come on! This is ridiculous. There must be more to it than that!'

'Maybe, sir. Tincommius was joined by another man before he set off to find us.'

'And who is this man? Let me guess – another one of Verica's little friends?'

'As it happens, yes, sir. But one who might have less cause to be fond of Rome than some of his comrades.'

'Imagine that.'

Cato shrugged. 'I find it difficult to believe that he just happened to be nearby when Tincommius found this man dying, right outside my quarters. Especially when Bedriacus had something vital he had to tell me. Too much of a coincidence, wouldn't you agree, sir?'

'It might be. Then again, it might just be coincidence that Artax was there. Have you any other proof?'

A puzzled expression passed fleetingly across Cato's face, but he was interrupted by Macro before he could answer the tribune.

'Artax is a fishy one, all right. Arrogant sod has been giving us the evil eye ever since we showed up in Calleva.'

'And yet he still serves with your cohorts,' Quintillus pointed out.

'Well, yes… But what better way to keep an eye on us?'

The tribune shook his head. 'No. I doubt he's plotting anything. Plotters don't tend to try to stand out, let alone act suspiciously.'

'Speaking from experience, sir?'

'Only from common sense, Centurion…'

Some people just couldn't help being confrontational, Cato decided as he watched the two men. But this was not helping things. Artax was being held in a cell on the far side of the headquarters block, and Cato was sure the Briton knew something about the stabbing, if not the plot that Bedriacus had mentioned. He had to be questioned, and soon.

'Sir, we must interrogate Artax. He's keeping something from us. I'm sure of it.'

'You're sure of it?' the tribune said scathingly. 'On what grounds? Gut feeling?'

There was nothing Cato could say to that without looking foolish. It was true that there was no hard evidence on Artax, just Cato's observations of the man over recent days, the weight of coincidence and, if he was honest with himself, gut instinct.

'So, I'm right then?' Quintillus gave a small smile of triumph. 'Well, Centurion?'

Cato nodded.

'So then, this Artax. Just how close is he to the king?'

'Very. Blood relation, and part of his entourage before he joined the cohorts.'

'Sounds like a model ally, and well enough placed for you to treat him with respect, wouldn't you say?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Then I suggest you release him as soon as possible, before he reconsiders his view of Rome. Given the sensitivity of the situation I don't think we should risk any u

'Sir, if we could just question him first-'

'No! You've caused enough trouble already, Centurion. I'm ordering you to release him immediately. Now see to it. I've got training to get back to.' Quintillus strode to the doorway, and paused in the wooden frame, almost filling it with his well-honed physique. He looked at Macro and Cato as he spoke. 'If I hear that you've delayed acting on my order I'll break you both and send you back to the ranks. Understand me?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I want to see this Artax in the king's party when we leave on the hunt tomorrow. If there's so much as a scratch on him, I'll have your balls for paperweights.'

As the tribune's footsteps faded down the corridor Macro clenched his fist and pounded the palm of his other hand.

'Bastard! Utter bastard! Coming in here and telling us how to bloody proceed. Who the fuck does he think he is? Bloody Julius Caesar? Cato? I said who does he think he is?… What the hell's up with you? Cato!'

Cato started. 'Sorry. Just thinking.'

Macro rolled his eyes. 'Thinking are we? Tribune's ordered the release of our only likely suspect, and you sit there daydreaming. Pull yourself together, lad. We need to act, not think.'

Cato nodded absently. 'Didn't you think it was a bit odd?'

'Odd? No, not really. Typical twat behaviour for a tribune, sticking his oar in when it's not needed.'

'No. Not that.' Cato frowned.

'What then?'

'The fact that he knew Artax was involved before we even mentioned his name…'

04 The Eagle and the Wolves